#anyways if you read this entire post i am making you a Cup of Wip Motivation Tea
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Works In Progress 2023: A Cyberpunk 2077 Year In Review
I thought for a hot minute about doing one of those snazzy templates that’s been going around, but editing photos just ain’t my MO and rather than going by month I picked 12 favs that I’ve posted in 2023. Some of them were popular, some of them weren't. Overall, I think I did pretty good for just doing vanilla photomode on console.
You might be wondering why there's a picture of a sticky note. I don't remember when I started doing this, and I'm horribly inconsistent as you can see by the dates, but I'll jot down my word count for my wip chapter and then jot it down again when I remember to later.
I write slow. A lot of times I sit down to write and it feels like the wheels are spinning in place. My minutes and hours don't stretch very far, typically don't add up to much. But days, weeks, months. That's when I can at least measure the progress.
Fic: So It Goes 40/44 - 438,946 words
My V x River Ward and tinfoil hat conspiracy theory long fic. I've spent way more hours on this then I have on any of my VP.
I got tagged by @just-a-cybercroissant @therealnightcity and @wanderingaldecaldo to do some WIP Whenevers. I post my VP pretty regularly, so it’s always seemed silly to do work in progress posts for them, and I don’t know when I’ll have any new writing to share since in between work and the holidays, I haven’t had much time to sit down with anything since my last chapter update. And I've been feeling very... stingy, lately. Especially when it comes to mine and other people's writing. So take this WIP/Year In Review as my offering. Both these series, as am I, are all very much still works in progress.
I confined my reflections for this year below the cut. If you don’t want to read my long-ass essays, you can admire the pictures, maybe check out my fic, or just move along and have yourself a lovely day.
We’ll start with the easy one.
VP
After at least a year of multiple playthroughs (I’ve played all the lifepaths, done all the endings), it only occurred to me at the beginning of this year to start taking VP. Part of the reason I never did before was because I didn’t realize it was a thing and then by the time I did, I figured I didn’t have much to offer. I play on PS5 and only have access to vanilla photomode, so seeing everyone else’s high-fidelity, ultra ray-tracing, modded, posed, full on virtual photo shoot photos, I was like there’s no way. (Not that I’m hating on PC modders, it’s just not everyone has access to mods or a PC capable of running the game, and I’m all for making art and creative endeavors accessible.) On top of that, all I’d ever heard from most other folks was how much vanilla photomode sucked. In the glamorous world of VP, I didn’t think there was any room for me.
But I started snapping pics anyway. And sure, there are a lot of limitations with vanilla photomode. But what that really translates to is opportunities to get creative. I am also a hoe for subverting people’s expectations, and very much believe when there’s a will, there’s a way.
Environmental and landscape shots were my first subjects before I started branching out into portraits and then capturing story moments. Through VP I found an entirely new way to enjoy a game that I’d already played a ridiculous number of times along with also finally being brave enough to share my V with other people too. I’d always worried about that before, if people would like her. Granted, I know Grandpa’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but whether you like her or not, I certainly think she’s made a name for herself over the past few months. Even if most people haven’t really gotten to know her the way I’d hoped.
I’ve taken hundreds of photos this past year. Most of which I’ll never share. There’s a lot of flops, a lot of weird experiments, ones that didn’t quite turn out the way I’d hoped, but I’ve learned something from every single one of them. I know how to spot good lighting, frame shots to create optical illusions, get a very limited toolkit to work in my favor, parkoured on all of the things, and heck, I even figured out how to make Grandpa smooch other NPCs. I’ve done atmospheric, mundane, down right goofy, as well as things that most people probably thought weren’t fucking possible.
I can’t say how long I’ll keep doing this, I’m sure I’ll move on at some point, but for now I’m still enjoying myself. There's a lot to explore in this game and I just can’t stop digging Night City.
Now, for the more complicated thing.
Writing
So It Goes… My peace, my war, my greedy and most ravenous of ghosts.
I’m operating under the assumption that most people following me here probably haven't read my fic or aren’t all that interested in reading it to begin with. It’s fine. But you need to understand this fic, my writing, is the main thing that brought me here. This is also Grandpa V’s story. Most of you have met her, but unless you've been reading, most of you do not know her.
I wrote around 185,000 words and posted 10 chapters this year. 2022 was about 253,000 words and 30 chapters, along with several unrelated one shots. However, I don’t think I’ve done a single chapter this year that was less then 10k, and my longest managed to hit 27k. As of the last update I posted, the fic is currently sitting at around 439k words, 40 chapters, and still isn’t done.
I have four more chapters to write. I have written a metric shit ton of words. This is, by far, the longest and most intense creative project I’ve ever endeavored to complete.
When I started writing, I was expecting this fic to be around 100-150k. That seemed to be the average for most long fics. I did not plan on being an outlier. I'm not sure you can ever really plan for that, but I guess I enjoy subverting my own expectations too.
For those of you who are reading my fic, it is my sincerest hope that it shatters every expectation of where you think it’s going. It’s not a joke that I tagged my fic “#an ode to my tinfoil hat”. An ode it has turned out to be. I’ve been sitting on this theory for two years. I have told no one about it. I hope it sticks the landing and hits the way I want it to. I don't know if it will. But fuck, I just want to be done with it so I can move on with my life, take a break, and give myself the opportunity to make and focus on other things before I have to get back on the damn horse.
I wrote less this past year then I did in 2022. I had a lot of life changes, most of which were good, but with times of change come times of adjustment. Along with some realizations that maybe you don’t understand as much as you thought you did. Looking back, I’ve been in a state of unsettled, kuzushi, for a really long time. Which is not a good place to be. It’s how your ass ends up on the ground with a knee knocking out all your teeth. I thought I knew better. Thought I had enough practice to get away from it. But bad habits have good memories.
I think given the circumstances, I accomplished a lot with my writing this year. I don’t know if my writing is exactly where I want it to be. I doubt it every will be, but it’s evolved, grown, and I wrote a pretty hefty stack of words considering I started working full-time again, bought a house with my partner, moved, and have been dealing with the millions of other beans that life tends to throw one’s way. That being said, and for full disclosure, I’ve also been dealing with some of the worst cases of jealousy and envy I’ve had since I was a teenager.
Frankly, it sucks. They walk with me every fucking where I go, hold my hands to whisper back all my doubts. Try to persuade me to my baser instincts, to be cruel and lash out. But that's not aikido. Luckily, I’m not 16 anymore so it’s at least been easier for me to identify the problem. Though I’m still coming up short in terms of actually being able to do anything about it, and will be for at least a few months more.
Yeah, I keep talking about it because I don’t know how many people know that I've been feeling this way. And I’m tired of not talking about it in a room full of creatives, because yeah, I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. And not talking about it just makes all that pent up resentment worse for everyone.
Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. But with the way I work and think, it’s a slow, tedious, and incredibly time-consuming art. With how much my fic has snowballed over the course of writing, it’s left very little room for the other hobbies in my life. And as my fellow writers probably already know, writing is an incredibly insular craft. And unlike a picture or an image, which only requires a glance, reading a bunch of words requires time and commitment.
So, when you put yourself out there and share what you wrote, it’s a lonely feeling not knowing whether or not anyone connected with what you put on the page. Especially, when the people who do read aren’t compelled to voice anything and when the people you’d hope would read don’t. And then you're stuck in the dark, not knowing, because neither of us says a goddamn thing.
I started writing this fic prior to actually joining the CP2077 fandom. And I joined the fandom because I felt alone. I’ve been here a while now, albeit in a few different places, and that feeling still hasn’t gone away. I’m still trying to find camaraderie with my fellow writers and carve out something that kinda sort of resembles a home or a sense of community. I watch my peers around me as they seem to build that with each other, except me.
I’m envious of the things that people make and jealous of the relationships those have created and fostered between said people, because for the life of me, it’s been a struggle to cultivate that since I got here. I know it’s selfish, but I also don’t know what about me makes people so hesitant. There have been a handful of strangers that have shown up for me regularly, but as far as people I call friends in this fandom that have shown up and actually stuck around, I can only name one right now. (I know we're all busy. And I acknowledge my writing's not for everyone. I know maybe some of you are quiet, or shy, or probably a thousand other things. I get it. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. People will never know unless you say. Never know unless you take the time to interact or engage. Be brave. And that's true for a lot of things.)
The propensity is for the negative to outweigh the positive. I've got a lot of numbers on my fic, so you would think things would be fine, but at this point they just feel empty. They don't bring me any comfort or real satisfaction. And I hate feeling like the people I know don’t care and that most of you are just talking around me. That I’m some kind of annoyance not fit to interact with. Which may or may not be the case. I don’t know. Again, most of you have never said anything. And maybe I need to accept the fact that most of you never will.
But this is me trying to start conversation.
It’s really shitty, knowing that the thing I want the most is also the thing holding me back. I know how to work on it too, not that it’s any guarantee. The problem is I’m still writing and in a needy state of greed. And because I’m slow, I don’t have the time or the energy to be generous. I can only take right now. I can’t give.
Relationships require both.
I can’t bring myself to read other people’s writing. I can’t comment, or like, or share if I haven’t read anything. I'm desperate for conversation, but I also don't have the time or assurance to facilitate it with other people right now. And for some reason people never seem to want to talk to me, especially when it comes to writing. I want to be part of conversations, talk deeply with other people. But I can’t speak right now, I'm not in a place to offer generosity without someone first giving it to me.
And generosity and grace is what we all need.
Four more chapters and I hope my ghosts will finally let me read in peace.
#cyberpunk 2077#2023 year in review#year in review#virtual photography#writing#from the top#fic: so it goes#long post#i can't guarantee a safe space but i can guarantee a brave space#if anyone's been feeling similarly and wants to talk about it my dms are open#the door's always open
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TRICK OR TREAT :3333
this is the only gif i have to hand that i don't think i've already posted somewhere so :3
aaaaaaaaaaaaaa that gif Jay!!! another day another unexplainable reason for you not to have posted it
anyway, you are my favourite person so you get....... a wip fic you've already read (exclusively) 😅
~
“Hey, look at this!” Chay pulls Macau out of his thoughts with an elbow to the side. They’re lying on the grass sharing a pair of earphones from which a familiar voice that Macau can’t quite place drifts with a slow, melancholic tune. The warm early afternoon sun kisses their noses and cheeks. Tankhun’s carp pond is not far from where they lay and if he turns his head a little, Macau can see that his eldest cousin is currently feeding the fish. He’s accompanied by the usual two bodyguards he drags everywhere with him and mumbling in discontent. Even turned away, Macau doesn’t miss the displeased glances he keeps sending their way.
When Chay flips his phone’s screen in Macau’s direction, he forgets about Tankhun and concentrates on the picture he's being shown. Cutesy drawings of doughnuts and coffee cups dance across a bright pink background in front of his eyes. “What am I looking at?”
“It’s a new café,” Chay explains excitedly. “It’s just around the corner from here and it’s having a big opening tomorrow morning. We should definitely go.”
Macau mentally flips through his weekly schedule, trying to recall what day it is. Tuesday. And tomorrow’s Wednesday. Macau has classes until 12:30 on Wednesdays. “Sorry, Chay, I can’t,” he says, “I have classes on Wednesdays.”
Porchay’s face falls and he pulls back his phone. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, faking detachment.
Macau looks at him from the side, trying to discern if it’s finally the right moment to bring up the subject. He’s not entirely sure, but he tries anyway. “What about you, dude?” He starts flippantly. “What do you do in the mornings? I’m pretty sure you just cry and lament the fact that your most fun friend isn’t there, but I could be wrong.”
Chay snorts. Macau is glad to see the smile return to his mouth. “You know, just…” he replies and goes a bit shy, his smile turning bashful. When he continues, it sounds hesitant. “... waste time.” Macau sees the fingers of Porchay’s left hand twitch slightly on his chest where he’s resting it and thinks of the guitar case in Chay’s room. That can’t be right, though, it hasn’t moved even one-tenth of an inch during the entire time they’ve been hanging out together and if Macau hadn't already noticed that, the thick layer of dust all over it would be a dead giveaway of its disuse.
“So you do cry about me being gone,” he jokes again and nudges Chay’s shoulder with his own.
Chay laughs. It had taken Macau a while to pull that specific reaction of out him. Even though Porchay comes off as quiet and unassuming at first, he’s actually a very guarded person. Every time Macau manages to make him laugh, it feels like a reward and the sound of it never fails to put Macau in a mischievous mood to try and get more out of him.
“Ew, gross, as if!” Chay squeals and scurries away to get out of reach of Macau’s hands which he’s trying to shove under Chay’s armpits. They roll a bit in the grass before Macau decides he’s too lazy to keep going and they both settle back into their supine positions with a sigh.
“I honestly just waste time,” Chay continues after a couple of minutes of silence which Macau thought meant the conversation was already over. His smile is dimmer, just a remnant of their previous laughter, and his eyes are lost staring in the distance above as they cloud with whatever Porchay is thinking of.
Macau scrutinizes the side of his face but he can’t begin to read what’s going on in Porchay’s brain. In moments like these, he feels a little like decoration among the mess of Porchay’s life. He’s there, next to all the other things Porchay wants and cherishes but if he wasn’t, Porchay probably wouldn’t notice, not right away at least. It makes Macau a bit lonely but all the more determined to dig deeper, move some of the useless stuff around and get to a place where Chay will want to play with him first. It’s a childish feeling, the kind that was burned out of him the first time Vegas prioritised Macau’s attention and was left with bruises for the trouble. He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, Macau thinks and then shakes himself out of his trance when the feeling starts getting a little too big for his ribcage to keep it all in.
“How come you’re not in university?” Macau tries to sport his most casual tone. “And don’t say you don’t have the smarts for it,” ─ that was the excuse Porchay had improvised when one of the cooks had asked that one time, it took three days for Macau to convince Chay to go back to eating in the kitchens after that one ─ “I’ve seen you shake your head whenever I botch my Statistics homework, you can’t fool me.”
Chay breathes out a resigned sigh and closes his eyes. He skips to the next song on his phone before speaking, Macau doesn't recognise this one. "I did pass the first few tests, actually," he says, "but I skipped the last one I was supposed to take."
Macau nudges him again, prompting him to continue but Porchay doesn't. "Why didn't you?" he asks then.
Chay shrugs and looks away. His fingers are tangling and untangling with each other where he’s resting his hands on his chest. “I didn’t really see a reason to anymore.” Macau doesn’t prod, but he’s hoping the silence will make Chay elaborate on his own. “Porsche didn’t like that very much,” he eventually continues, “When he found out, he was furious. He’s never shouted at me like that before.” At that, he gives a mirthless laugh. “I don’t even know if he was madder about me not telling him or me not going to university.” Macau doesn’t find it very funny, but he keeps silent. “I’m still not sure how he found out. He said Kinn told him but I don’t know where he got it from.”
Macau supposes Kinn might have noticed a missing tuition somewhere at some point, but he can tell Chay doesn’t really care all that much. He can tell that the reason Chay told him isn’t the whole story but going by Chay’s mood, this isn’t the right time to ask for more. “What were you gonna study?” he asks instead, hoping that’s tangential enough that Chay won’t mind answering. He realises that’s not the case when Chay immediately tenses and sits up with an abrupt move.
“Music,” he says curtly and gets on his feet. He pockets his earphone and brushes the legs of his pants from the grassy residue of their lie down. “Do you wanna go see what they’re making for dinner?” The deliberate change of subject isn’t lost on Macau. “Maybe they still have some leftover mango from yesterday’s cheesecake.”
Macau lets it slide, making yet another addition to the list of things Porchay doesn’t want to share. Later, he promises himself, We’ve got time.
#askeetie asks#ask meme#khaotunq#jay i took a million years to answer this i'm sorry 😭😭😭#mushiewrites
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WIP Weekend!
Once again tagged by @steves-strapcollection for a WIP game! (Gerry you are like half the reason phryctoria is nearly done, lol)
THE RULES
In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.
Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!
After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.
That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!
THE WIPS
wigwag (AKA Stobin go to Indy and Steve gets some (OMC) dick; AKA sequel to phryctoria, which is now revisions (and ch. 2 should be up tomorrow)!)
S4 Fix-it: Lucas POV
Stobin soulmate au
steddie week: day 1 [hunger] {I never finished or posted this one, but I want to start getting my Steddie week fics up on ao3!)
Not tagging anyone, but please please join in and tag me in to say I tagged you if you want to participate. (I'll also make note of it for the future!)
SNIPPET
from wigwag! alas i am not particularly close the nsfw bits yet, so it's entirely PG below the cut
"Guess what I have?" Steve asks when Robin dumps herself into his car on Friday afternoon.
"Please tell me it's something edible," she groans. "I'm starving."
"Unfortunately not, but I can make us some pasta when we get to your place."
"I would love you forever," she says with her puppy dog eyes. No wonder he'd tricked himself into thinking he had a thing for her. She's adorable.
"You already do, dingbat."
"Yeah...well..." she trails off like she's searching for an argument to that point. "That's true," she says, giving up. "So what is it then?" She asks as she buckles her seat belt.
Steve reaches into the cup holder and pulls out the plastic card there.
"Oh shit! Is that my fake?"
Steve laughs. "It is indeed. Your name is Rowan Buck and you were born on January 10th of 1965."
"Eugh. A Capricorn."
"What in the heck is a Capricorn and what is your problem with them?"
"Oh puh-lease--don't act as though a Leo such as yourself doesn't read your horoscope on the daily."
"Okay fine, I know what a Capricorn is, broadly speaking. I still have no idea why you'd have a problem with them."
Robin shrugs. "I don't, really. Just thought it would be funny to say."
"You're hilarious," Steve deadpans.
"Okay, you say that like you don't think it's true, but need I remind you of 'I've laughed more this summer than I have in a really long time'?"
"I never said that."
"You did."
"Must have been an alternate version, then."
"Yep," Robin says, popping the 'p' with a smug little smile. "Also known as 'truth serum Steve.'"
"Ugh, whatever, fine: you're hilarious," he concedes.
"Thank you." Robin holds her new ID up to the light. "You're sure this will pass inspection?"
Steve shrugs. "I got it form the same person who did mine."
"Yeah, sure, but we're dealing with small town dives down here, not big city bar tenders."
"Yeah, actually, I think the fact that we're up against everybody-knows-everybody-itis in Hawkins makes is more impressive that my fake works anywhere. Also--I don't think Indianapolis really counts as a big city."
"Touche."
"So...tomorrow? Wanna try our hand at hitting up a gay club?"
"I'd love nothing more, Stevie."
#longish snippet bc I'm just posting everything I wrote longhand last night#i love writing stobin dialogue so much#can you tell?#wip weekend#read writes#wigwag tag#couldn't resist the rhyme there lol#semiotics 'verse#at some point i should probably....explain...these titles....#stobin
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Omg I‘d love a WIPs list. What I enjoy is waiting for a chapter and connecting with the author during their process of writing. I’d love to see what you’d recommend
I love that too! Waiting can be so excruciating but also thrilling! And every time a new chapter drops it feels like a present 🥺
ANYWAY, my hellcheer wips list (currently reading + tbr)
Currently reading:
Teen Beat (at this point if you're my mutual you know how utterly obsessed I am with this fic, I've talked about it here), Tenderness (mentioned here), and The Street Of Philadelphia (mentioned here).
Poison: something different, may not be everyone's cup of tea: waitress!chrissy x retired rockstar!eddie, BDSM dynamic. The author warns in the tag that both C&E are "a little ooc" and yeah I do agree, they may feel a little ooc sometimes, but I really love the writing style, I love how they're interacting so far and I absolutely adore this really stressed \ a little lost Chrissy, she feels so real. Also, this is entirely from Chrissy's pov which I think it's intriguing because Eddie's a very mysterious figure here.
Reality and other highs: an absolute gem, I have the highest expectation for this fic because I loved the first chapter soo much. 12/10 the cutest idiots in love I've read so far.
I love the way I light up when you call me: everyday I check for an update because I love this concept so much: bodyguard!Eddie x Actress!Chrissy. I'm a sucker for this trope! Also, I love the idea of Laura Cunningham being an oppressive momager, it fits the canon chrissy\laura dynamics so well.
And we run with a lonely heart, and we run for this killing love... Rockstar!Eddie x Singer!Chrissy who just joined Corroded Coffin because their manager thinks adding a sexy vocalist could help the band to stay relevant... Of course, there's only one rule: don't fuck it up (namely, don't fuck!!). This is giving me all the Fleetwood Mac vibes I crave. Featuring a delicious piano oral sex scene. 10/10 I want more.
Dancing With Danger: we all love cute dork Eddie, right? Exactly, but sometime we may want to read a different take on him (but dw he's still 100% a good boy), and this fic is a perfect example. Also, the tags promise a satanic panic, Eddie wrongly accused of murder, and a corruption kink. 10/10 I have high expectations.
Light My Fire: this fic is making me lose my mind. It hasn't been updated since July and I am DYING because it features one of my favorite tropes ever: (almost) step-family AU. Chrissy's father died and Laura married Wayne (to everyone's surprise, so it's still kind of a mystery why they married and I am so intrigued!!), E&C are forced to live together and that sucks because Eddie has a massive crush and Chrissy apparently isn't exactly indifferent either but now they're family so it's a fucking mess (and I love this kind of drama!!!!). Also features adorable Eddie\Chrissy's little brother interactions. Let's manifest an update soon. UPDATE: IT WORKED A NEW CHAP DROPPED GO READ THIS ONE NOW!!
I Was Made For Lovin' You: the first eddissy fic that I read back in June 🥺 and sadly it hasn't been updated since. The first chapter was so good (and 10k long!).
TBR list (I've just realized I have too many fics on my TBR so I'll just post a few and I'll do a new list later)
swan song: "You know birds have hollow bones?” She says quietly into the thick air. “If I had hollow bones, I would fly away from here." Love the title, love the birds reference\metaphor, it seems very promising.
i wanna know what love is: Chrissy is married here. Love a good infedelity\ cheating trope!! let'ss go.
Class of '90, Come and Find Me: I am a sucker for college!AU so here we are.
This Office-Like fic by @eddiemoonson that's not out yet but I've read a snippet and I am so ready!!
The pacific Rim AU (that I can't find rn but I have it saved somewhere, I'm gonna include a link it once I find it): because I absolutely love Pacific Rim and drift concept.
#eddissy fic#eddissy#hellcheer#I am sorry I haven't tagged all the authors I'll update soon I promise!!#If you are reading one of these PLEASE slide in my dm and let's talk!!#also slide if you have fic rec 🥺
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Eldra's very bad day at work
wop wop under the cut to not clog your dash, writing warm up so i hopefully can get back to my real wip. I wanna post more of these little snippets of this story .
Eldra had not rested for the past two days, not since being woken up at 4 am by a red alert detailing a sudden peak in Neautra in the eastern provinces and hundreds of messages by distressed hunters. It had been two days and they still didn't understand what happened in the small town once called Edreyl. They couldn't contact the hunter unit stationed near the town, all comms in the region were down due to the high Neautra levels, but the satellite images that managed to make their way back to the HQ were distressing, the entire town and many miles in its radius…gone, blasted out of existence, Eldra had never seen anything like this, not in her days as huntress not in the records of their archive. The good thing, if you could even call it that, is that they’ve yet to detect any demon activity coming from the region…yet.
Tired and shaking from her 10th cup of coffee of the day she made her way into the State council room. The urgent meeting had been called in the past hour and Eldra had to rush to the Imperial Palace at the heart of Izeriath city. She sighed before the heavy white door as the guards opened it to her and she stepped inside the oppressive round table.
The State council was limited to only the ministers of each region, the Emperor and the two Royal Huntressess, Eldra and Serha, though the former could only be present in video format.
The ministers were all discussing in rushed tones to each other, and the emperor had his distinguished ever angry looking face. Eldra bowed before them before sitting next to the projection of Serha, who gave her a small nod.
“Now that we are all here” The Emperor said “Royal Huntressess, what news do you bring?” he said, staring down at the two drakin women.
Serha soke first, swallowing hard
“Nothing yet…your majesty” she said the ministers murmured in disappointment and anxiety “this is…we have never seen this before, levels this high…”
Eldra nodded
“thought there has been no demon activity signs yet!” She was quick to add “And this amount of Neautra may even lure them to that region, making it easier to hunt them down”
“But what are we dealing with is the question royal huntress” the minister of Atriste, the region affected spoke, his video image was greatly affected by the Neautra and often would glitch out “if a new portal is opening right in the middle of Izeriath”
“I doubt that “ Serha intervened “ A portal would have already started to consume matter, and from our satellites we can see it’s more or less stable” she said “whatever it was isn't putting more energy out”
Not that we can see anyway Eldra thought bitter, their equipment couldn't even process the amount of energy being read, stopping at the highest number it could handle, and had not yet decreased.
“either way…to get a better view of what's going on in the blast zone, we need to get in there our comms with the nearby units are still down, and besides…i don’t think even with our best gear a mortal could survive for long in this amount of Neautra.” She said grimm.
The discussion continued, no progress being made other than the obvious quarantine of the zone. Suddenly, the one channel that was off lit up, the room went into silence, this seat was never taken, for it was simply honorary. It was the seat for God.
But instead of God, the one on the other side wasn't her, it was a dark blue spirit, its ethereal mane flowed behind it gracefully, particles, orbs, all floated around it as if the being had its own gravity.
Everyone stood up and bowed towards the being in one swift movement, the spirt stared at them, its face expressionless, its eyes empty sockets of light.
“Great Emissary” The Emperor spoke “ speak your word, what do we owe you your presence”
“Ruler of men” the spirits voice was ethereal, like a loud whisper, a chorus of voices neither male nor female “ the contract has been broken, your kin’s cruelty has gone too far”
None spoke, all too stunned, confused
“ Our kind has been slaughtered time and time by the greed of men seeking to become gods, we tolerated it for they have brought on their demise by trespassing the sacred bound” the spirit continued “yet now despite the transgression, this cannot be ignored.”
“ Great one, what do you mean?” Eldra raised her head pleading, the spirits eyes burned into her skull, she felt overwhelmed from looking at it
“ Our God, Shadlan, has been murdered, murdered by a mortal”
It was a heavy silence, heavier than before, the emperor's eyes shot wide.Shock permeated everyone in the room, Eldra fell on her chair again.
“No- No no mortal has the strength to do so!” Eidon pleaded
“no mortal should have this strength, yet it has happened and Her remains now poison the land she once loved” The spirit said solemn
Eldra looked at Serha, her face was pale as she cupped her face in pure horror. Eldra rested her head on her own hands, the exhaustion and shock taking over, what did that mean for them all? for the world? Who had the power to kill a god? how did they not see it sooner?
“This sin cannot go unpunished, your hands will not be cleaned by water but by your blood. If that means the end of this era, then so it shall be. We will not interfere further”
“ What you- “ Eidon started to speak getting up from his chair when suddenly a high pitched scream filled the room.
Eldra clutched her head falling against the table in a pained gasp. The scream continued, agonizing, painful, it felt like her entire body was being ripped apart by the sound, her mind becoming one with the pain.
The scream stopped
She loved you
The voice was furious, its anger bleed into Eldra, clawed at her chest, ripped her skin.
She loved your pitiful kind and you kill her
HOW DARE YOU
The pain increased, sorrow, anger, pain, loss larger than Eldra could handle, tears streamed down her face as she gripped her head, she had to tear it open, pull her brain out, stop the feelings stop the pain
There will be no mercy, there will be no peace
not until she’s avenged.
This is your last crime, mortals, this is my declaration, I will not rest until the very last of you is gone, until my sister is avenged with your DEATH.
The pressure left, and Eldra vision slowly returned, she was breathing hard, she had blood and hair on her hands from pulling on her scalp. Slowly she managed to turn her head without being wrecked with nausea, to assess the state of the others. Many were unconscious, those that were online, had disconnected. She locked eyes with the emperor’s haunted gaze.
The demon queen had come for them.
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i hope you're feeling better now but i just saw your post from the other day and i sure do have Things to put in your askbox so
hello hi tell me about your writing process ! and i mean literally any part of it, literally any Thing, i'm just kind of curious because i really love what you write and my wips generally stay unfinished no matter how much i like the idea so i'm also kinda just curious how you manage to Get It Done yk?
no pressure at all i was just wondering
(Dude, I wrote too much. Sorry. i love to speak. I was excited I got an ask)
Hi! Yes! I'm feeling a little better now, still kinda sick, but so it goes. And that's so sweet of you! I'm glad you like my writing!
Writing Process? Oh boy, this is gonna be so disappointing. Most of the stories I've written come to me at random moments and over the course of a few days I'll make up this weird elaborate plot in my head until I get to the point where I'm like 'ok, this need to be a fic'.
I usually use two documents while writing something. I've got a layout (that's where I pull the crazy planning posts from) and the actual story(where I get the out-of-context stuff). I write down everything I want to happen in the layout document and add as much to it as I see fit (this can include really anything from specific conversations I want to really generic plot points) as well as block out chapters and after I'm finished with that, it usually just looks like a weirdly formatted poem or something. I never use spellcheck or anything on that either and I use such casual language, so it always looks like something I wrote while blackout drunk, but I love it nonetheless. Here's the first chapter of "Mike Wheeler's Ultimate Guide to the Undead"'s outline for example:
As you can see, it's a mess, but I love it. And somehow I got the first chapter out of this.
The point of that is pretty much it's an outline, but it's also kind of fun since it's so casual, so I've found it helps to motivate me to write new parts of the story bc I'm engaged by the strange wording I use on the outline. I also use this doc for title planning and other stuff I have to figure out beforehand. For example, I wrote the poem in Shady Business on an outline doc.
I then transfer this over to the story doc in an actual storytelling format. Most of my writing comes out of absolutely nowhere and idk what to say about it. I'll word-vomit for about ten minutes and get a page, look at it, and go 'oh hey, why isn't that horrible?'. I'm also super conversational in my writing, which helps it flow better. I always thought that made my writing hard to read, but a lot of people have actually said they like my writing style so I guess it's not that bad! I just treat it as if I'm telling the story over a cup of coffee. As for representing the character well (because they are real characters), I just try to get into their mindset as much as possible. I don't really have any specific way I do that, though. I recently had to create a fake "Am I the Asshole" post for Mike so I could try to understand his feelings on something better within myself (made it on the outline doc!).
After the initial word vomit of a chapter, I'll go back and read it over, adding or taking away what I see fit and fixing initial spelling mistakes and making sure it reads well. I don't have a beta reader (I wish I did), so I've gotta just assume it's readable and go with it. After the initial fixes, I'll read it over again just to make sure. I only fix all the spelling mistakes by the time I go to publish because I use Grammarly on the Ao3 post thing lol. By that point, it's only like 4 mistakes left anyway (and the stuff Grammarly says is incorrect but I don't care bc it sounds good and I can do what I want).
I also highlight my little outline as I go (usually in green bc byler brainrot, you can see it in the image) and it helps me visualize my progress and keep going!
But, yeah. That's pretty much the entire process and I have no better explanation than it's simply a dumpster fire of improv and weird pieces of moment I have glued together in my brain. It's arts and crafts, at the best, but somehow I pull it together and create a story!
As for motivation, most of it's four things. One, the anticipation of writing scenes I really want to. Two, telling myself I'm gonna get fun comments and reading old comments (I thrive off of positive feedback from poeple). Three, a specialized playlist for the fic. I make playlists for my stories with songs I like that fit the overall vibe and sometimes I get inspiration from them and it gives me new ideas. And four, probably the most important, I just really like writing. It's my favorite things ever to just put words on a page and make a story out of it. It's so fun and so cool and so magical and I love it.
And that's about it. The end. That's my writing process. It doesn't really make much sense, but I guess it works, so it works for me! If you're looking to improve your own completion rate, I mean, maybe try some of it, but it's really a personal preference. You've gotta do tril and error. And I've really gotta work on slowing down anyway because I can totally rush writing a fic and end up making it a lot less than it could have been if I took more time. And If you're not feeling motivated to write, don't force it. Seriously. Things like I suggested totally help me keep up with it, but what I hate more than anything is stuff I wrote when I didn't want to write. It's just... uninspired.
Okay! Thank you so much for asking that! Hopefully this long rant of nonsense (omg like my writing) answered your question! Sorry I wrote an essay!
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so i am feeling incredibly emotional rn so, here’s an appreciation post for my favorite people. (this have been in my drafts for three weeks now) -- so why not post this along with my sleepover <3 sleepover bash
@chokemepansy
need i say more? no— but i will anyway. asteria, my mean cheerleader girlfriend, you are the first moot i’ve ever had, and honestly, i wouldn’t have it any other way. you're my favorite person in the entire world, and pls i am getting so emotional rn, i hate you >:-( i’ve told you everything at my previous letters but i just want you, and everyone else who’s about to read this, to know that you’re my platonic (and quite possibly romantic) soulmate, and my other-third, because pansy owns the shit out of us. love u lots, don’t say it back <3
@accioweaslcy
my favorite headcanon writer 😩 pls alyssa, i’ve had, and still do, have so much fun talking with you. i really, really, love your company, i love your writing, and most especially love you. you were one of my moots that talked to me with such ease and comfort despite being a tad bit younger than you, and it’s been fun ! you’re like one of those seniors who befriends juniors, but still have this amazing (and envying) friendship with each other. not only that, but you being my friend, and me being a dumbass, made our own version of the golden trio with @weasleyyy ! now, this is a story i’ll tell my kids. love u, even if you choose to chomp me <3
@weasleyyy
gHAZAL ! now, are you thankful for me being a half-asleep dumbass who thought you were rose because of your similar urls before, or what ? because i definitely am PFT SJSHSJSHSJN anyways, i’m so happy to have you in my life. i’m a sucker for your chaotic and impulsive energy, and your little thoughts about the hpu. just like rose, thank you for acting just as yourself around me, a smol bisexual mess, because i really do appreciate it, and now you made me a fanclub— which btw, i still cannot get over with. i wheeze everytime i remember it. i love u, madame gazelle, even if you’re a mean li’l fuck ! <3
@amrtxntias
AAAAAAAAH heather, you are officially my unofficial soft british best friend, and no, you do not have a say in this, because you’re stuck with me forever. thank you so much for helping me with terms i need for writing. you’ve been the best, you’ve supported me through every ups and downs with my writings ever since we’ve met. it wasn’t even too long ago ! but you’ve welcomed me like i was a long lost friend of yours. love u, h, the lily to my marlene <3
@buckysbeloved
aliciaaa !! you’re honestly like an older sister i’ve never had. i’ve never had anyone to rant about my marvel fangirlings with, but i am so glad that you were so open with my rants and conspiracy theories. you’ve never judged me or shown any disinterest with my rambles, you’ve been so supportive and you continue to give me the same energy as mine. it’s a very little thing to fuss about, but lish, you’ve got to know that it means so much to me. i’m tearing up— blame the hormones. but really, i’m so grateful for you and your company (and your maxibaby fics). love u to the moon and back ! <3
@acosmis-t
isa isa isa isa isaaaa, pls i love u so much. that’s all i want to say, but ofc, i need to say more. you have been one of my best friends— we clicked the moment we spoke to each other and i was incredibly happy to be your moot. i couldn’t even believe it at first because you’re this rly cool writer with tons of followers and i’m just another user in the crowd but like, everything i want to say is beyond the words that want to come out of my mouth, so i’ll leave it with a thank you for choosing me to be one of your mutuals. thank you for blessing me, and the others, with your lovely fics. never stop doing what you love, i’m here for you always. always was, and always will be. i mean, it should be with the jointed graves and all. love u <3
@reguluscore
SOOOORINNNN. sometimes i question what’s happening inside your head. like one second your posting angsty fics and thoughts, and next thing i know you’re posting a dancing prongs gif. i’ll never understand, i reckon, but that’s alright, i’ll love you just the way you are, even if you break my heart with your angst. tell me who hurt you and i’ll beat them up. i love u so much, i’m still listening to your playlist, because it’s astronomical. sending you some forehead kisses <3
@inks-and-jinx
vivian !! i’m still beyond grateful for you and your artistic and writing talents. you’re such an angel, and i’m so incredibly happy to have you in my life. you’re a sweetheart. you’re every sweet-soft-fluffy nickname there is, because honestly? i cannot speak well, or think straight because i don’t think words can describe how lucky i am to have you. well, i love u, and that’s all i could comprehend <3
@comfortwriting
karis ! you’re honestly one of my fave moots because you never fail to make me so appreciated and loved. your out of the blue messages always make me feel so happy because you’re so wholesome and nice. i’m very, very, glad to have you in my life. thank you for always being there to be my personal therapist and my human diary— who listens to all of my writing ideas, even if i have tons of wips to write. thank you for inspiring me to write again, without you, i would’ve never find my passion for writing again, so thank you, thank you for being the sweetest person there is, i love you ! <3
@krasivayadarling
ANYA ! darling, you are one of the very first mutuals i’ve ever talked to, you’ve welcomed me with open arms when i was new here and i wouldn’t change anything in the world. i’m so glad that you were the first person i’ve ever talked to because you are practically the human form of a squishmallow. don’t question me, you’re my squishmallow. anyways, you’re such a lovely person and i’m very happy to have you in my life, love you ! <3
@cursestothemoon
cHARLY-CHAR !! hehe you are like one of those nice, cool, senior students in school, you never fail to make me so giddy and loved. i’m so happy to have you in my life, and i’m wishing you all the happiness and love in the world because you truly do deserve it, especially when you’ve been nothing but so kind and friendly. pls i feel like crying because i don’t know what i did to deserve you. I BLAME U AND UR AMAZING WRITING SKILLS FOR MAKING ME SOFT >:-( i love you tho <3 — also thank you for that play fighting blurb with fred, i didn’t know that i needed to bite his cute butt until i read it.
@sunflowergirl522
ZOE ZOE ZOE ZOE ZOE ZOE ! I LOVE YOU. i feel so complete when i read your peter fics. i always look forward to them because it’s not everyday you find someone who actually writes him so good, and i know we don’t really interact much, but i feel like i got to know you more through reading your fics. u better trust me when i say that i’ll be your personal hype woman and maxibaby supporter, because i am, and i will forever be ! love u <3
@fives-cup-of-coffee
amelia, you bitch, i love you. to be honest, i've never really expected us to be friends, but ofc, here you are, simping for me and now we're besties. you've been, and still are, so fun to be around with-- only because i get to tease the shit out of you >:-) anyways, thank you for keeping up with my utter bullshit, i'm here for you always, i hope you know that. love ya ! <3
@moonvicake
wAHH-- sasha, hi. pFT JSADHJSAHDJH SORRY BUT PLEASE I LOVE YOU, DID YOU KNOW? it's been so painfully awkward at first because believe me, i'm the most gauche person you'll ever meet if we talk for the first time, but as soon as we grow accustomed to each other, you'd wish that you never spoke to me, because i'm this hot fucking mess, so thank you for keeping up with me. you're one of my favorite mutuals in here. i love you more than puppies and hello kitty pancakes <3
+ my mutuals who’ve been such amazing people, we haven’t talked as much as the tagged moots but i love you all just as equally, you lot mean the world to me, and i’m willing to go on the ends of the earth for all of you <3
@anchoeritic @babyjordy @frankenkyleluvr @ronsbadidea @kc-needs-coffee @nevilles-top @weasleyclaw @sweetnspicysimp @redbullchick @willowbleedsonpaper @weasleysandwheezes @daffodilmoons @incorrectpeterparker @dracosaccount @cedrics-grave @pad-foots @peepeepotter @oldschoolkiddo @spideyspixies @daltonacademia @eunoniaa @love-peachh @george-fabian-weasley @mayonnaise-and-anarchy @darthwheezely @thotbutpurple @l0ttadreamz @daisyyy2516 @prettywhitedoves @band--psycho @widowdays @loveboyhalo @gxtitobxby @fandomvariousness @nothinghcppens (i passed the 50 tags rule, eek— i’m sorry, i love all of you whom i didn’t get to tag, though 🥺)
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#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)
Fun Meta Asks for Writers
Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂
Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.
So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.
AT LEAST
NOT UNTIL TODAY
YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.
FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.
Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...
Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:
Fred Lives AU
The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology
The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)
Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)
Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)
Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy
Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)
Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo
Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion
So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around
The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)
Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private
After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)
They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘
Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)
In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:
NC-17 (smut incoming!)
Technology circa 2005
Phone sex
Semi-public sex
Sex toys
Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)
Crack taken way too seriously
Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...
HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.
Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.
Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.
He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.
"Is he coming, then?"
Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.
"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.
"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.
Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."
Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.
At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.
"Parkinson?"
She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"
"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"
The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.
"Whatever for?"
Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.
To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.
She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.
Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.
Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.
He hit call.
Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.
Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"
"Malfoy?"
"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"
Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.
"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."
"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."
"I know."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."
So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.
"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."
"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."
Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.
Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"
"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."
Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."
Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"
"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."
"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"
A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.
"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"
The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.
When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"
Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.
Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.
Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."
Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"
"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."
Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.
"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.
Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."
"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.
"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"
Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.
"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.
"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.
Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"
"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."
"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.
"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."
Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.
"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."
Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.
"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."
Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.
"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.
"Would I want to what ― oh."
Oh.
Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.
"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.
"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."
Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.
"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"
"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."
"Terribly clever, this one."
A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.
"Occupied!"
He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.
"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.
"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."
"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"
Another frustrated turn of the door handle.
"It's a single."
"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"
Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"
"Your dildo, Weasley."
The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.
"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."
"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.
"Eager, are we?"
"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."
Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."
Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.
"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.
"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.
Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.
Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"
"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."
Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.
Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.
"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.
Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.
"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.
"Yes, gods."
Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.
Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.
"Talk to me, Weasley."
Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.
"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.
Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.
"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"
"Oh, we're well acquainted."
"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.
Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.
Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.
Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.
"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.
Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"
"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."
"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"
"Fucking hell, Malfoy."
At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.
"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping.
Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.
The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.
"I liked that. A lot."
Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."
Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?
Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.
"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"
"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."
"You too, Malfoy."
Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.
The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.
#writer asks#dron#ron x draco#ron weasley#draco malfoy#harry potter#hp#fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#hp fanfiction#fangqueen writes fanfiction#fangqueen speaks
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Do you ever think about how in BOTW Robbie says in his diary he never got to say goodbye to Purah?
Like- I can't. I JUST CAN'T! 😭
WHEN I TELL U I THINK ABOUT THAT NEARLY EVERY DAY I AM ONLY BARELY EXAGGERATING
i reFUSE to accept it. i think he lied in his notebook. they all write their journals like they're EXPECTING them to be read. they all LIED and i rEFUSE-
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have the extended wip from my very first wip wednesday based on this VERY THING
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Slapping her hands over her mouth was all Purah could do to smother her own laughter, watching as Robbie smacked Link in his lower back with his rolled-up notebook.
“I’m starting to think I liked it better when you kept your nose outta things!” Robbie said, huffing and puffing his entire way back to his chair.
“I’m sorry!” Link said, keeping his distance out of swatting range.
Robbie swatted at the air, grumbling again.
Looking over at Link, all Purah could do was grin. “What’cha get into this time, Linky?” she asked.
He crossed his arms, face flushed with embarrassment.
“Journals I never said he could read!” Robbie answered, getting another laugh from Purah.
“How was I supposed to distinguish that from all your other mess of papers that you said I could?” Link asked.
The look Robbie shot her was that of, ‘Can you believe this guy?’
She shook her head. “Now he’s done it to both of us…”
Robbie continued to fuss at Link, all the way until Jerren and Zelda came to his rescue, dragging him along on their trip to Skull Lake to further investigate the shrine that was there.
Given it had been over 100 years since they last saw one another, Purah opted to stay behind with Robbie to continue catching up.
For the both of them, seeing one another after so long was...odd, at best; but in the same breath, odd always accompanied their relationship in some way, pre-calamity and post-calamity, so it wasn’t too hard to find a rhythm with one another again.
On Purah’s end, it was odd seeing Robbie as he was now. As a little old man, with a wife and a kid. (Never mind the part where his wife had been her assistant at one time)
For Robbie, even though he was fully aware of her experiment that had led to her physically reverting to a child, nothing could have prepared him to see her looking almost exactly as she did the day they last saw one another, the only key difference being a lack of dye in her hair and on her nails.
“What was he even getting into, anyway?” Purah asked, setting her cup of tea on the table separating them.
Unrolling the notebook, he leaned forward to place them down, angled to where she could read the first page -an invitation to continue reading if she wanted. “Just an old journal detailing coming out here and whatnot. My fault for having it out, I guess.”
Waiting for him to lean back, she looked down at it. “Can I?” she asked.
He nodded. “Go ahead. Nothing good in there, anyways. Just a lot of guilt,” he said, tugging at her heart.
She knew the feeling all too well. Far too many of her early journals were just detailed rants about the guilt she felt about not having done enough to stop the calamity.
As she began to read the first few pages, a smile tugged at her lips. His writing always tended to be more...poetic. Writing tended to be the only place he ever properly gathered his thoughts, whereas when speaking he could easily get off on one tangent, only to go down six other tangents before finally getting to the point.
It was one of many things that helped them get along, seeing as she was no better in the manner.
“Pushy? Me a pushy woman?” She asked, her grin evident in her tone.
He crossed his arms, returning the grin. “Don’t even pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he said.
She rolled her eyes in a playful manner. “I have never been pushy a day in my life. Especially not when it came to you,” she teased.
He chuckled. “Pushiest damn woman I’ve ever worked with,” he said.
When she looked up at him over the notebook, it occurred to him that, a lifetime ago, the look would have been more than enough to drive him mad in only the best kind of way. In only the way Purah ever did.
“Oh, please, you liked it. You wouldn’t have rolled over so easily if you didn’t. Mister Rebel Without A Cause only ever let me push him around,” she added.
“You and now my wife, apparently,” he said, thinking nothing of the comment.
Purah hesitated, re-reading the same line she had been on again. “That’s because I trained her first,” she said.
She re-read the line again, still not absorbing any of the words, too suddenly consumed with the thought of her oldest partner marrying and having a child with her old assistant. An assistant who was fifty years younger than the both of them.
If there was one major drawback of suddenly being so much younger, physically, it was that her emotions had distinctly become harder to control again. All the experience from her lifetime wasn’t enough when faced with a frontal lobe that wasn’t fully developed again.
A frontal lobe that only wanted to scream about how wrong all of it was. A frontal lobe that was competing with the knowledge that the calamity had forced people into odd situations, good, bad, and indifferent.
Robbie and Jerren were merely a product of the calamity; two people making the best of a bad situation neither had any control over and--
She re-read the line for a third time, finally registering a few words.
Though, it was thanks to her third re-read that she realized something: this wasn’t Robbie’s writing.
At least, it wasn’t his writing from when it would have been written.
Despite his hasty nature, his handwriting had always been immaculate. Neat, flowing letters, always in a perfect line even without some sort of paper line to guide him.
This handwriting was...scratchier. Some things didn’t connect the way they would have in the past. It wasn’t like his current handwriting, but it was better…
As she turned the page to continue reading, she hesitated.
Up to that point, she knew his account wasn’t entirely accurate, but had chalked it up to emotions getting in the way.
The way he described their parting, however, was an outright lie.
“Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice that Dr. Purah had slipped away. I knew Hateno Village wasn't much farther along the road, and that the Calamity had barely touched that area... So I felt safe letting her continue on her own. We parted ways without even saying good-bye, I suppose. Stirring myself back to action, I set out on my own journey back to Kakariko Village.”
Closing the notebook over her finger, she looked up at Robbie. “You and I both know that’s not how we parted,” she said, keeping her voice down, as though there was even anybody to overhear.
He looked away, unable to come up with a response.
“I might have skipped over some details, but I at least implied what happened,” she continued, feeling a distinct ache in her chest, cursing her young body. She had sworn a long time ago she had put all those feelings to rest.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he carefully looked back up at her. “You know I very well couldn't have written out every little detail like some trashy novel-”
“Like I said, I at least implied…” she defended.
Though, there had been a journal, long ago, right after she set up in Hateno, where she detailed everything. From everything the two of them had done, to every emotion she had forced herself to hold back from saying.
The guilt she felt from burning it in the ancient furnace nagged at her now and then.
“Don’t know why I’m trying to keep secrets after 100 years.” He adjusted himself to be more comfortable in his chair. “That’s an amended version, Cherry.”
From the other room, she just barely heard the Ancient Oven stir to life, a low grinding sound as it moved around.
Despite herself, she felt a shiver run up her spine. It had been a long time since she last heard that nickname. A nickname he had given her after she first put the red streak in her hair. A nickname she only allowed him to use.
A nickname she realized he had omitted from the journal -something he would have never done in the past.
She leaned forward again to put the notebook back in its place, her desire to read any more thoroughly quashed. “You never told Jerren about us, did you?” she asked.
“No, but in my defense, you never did, either,” he said.
“No, but I didn’t knock her up and marry her, did I?” she asked, not holding back any of the bite.
He seemed to flinch at her words.
Over 100 years later, and she could still get a rise out of him; always knowing just how to get under his skin.
And like 100 years ago, no matter how much he wanted to fight back, he rolled over.
“Jerren wasn’t even born by the time you and I had to part ways. There wasn’t a point in bringing it up,” he said.
She’d rather he just punch her in the gut.
She wanted to fight back. To yell. To lay into him for making her think that what they had never actually meant anything.
For the life of her, she couldn’t. No words would come out.
Robbie breathed a laugh. “I know that look, Cherry.” She wanted to tell him to drop the nickname. “Whatever you’re overthinking, don’t overthink it.”
She rolled her eyes, pushing herself back into her chair. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got an old man's brain! I’m over here stuck with my dumb twenty-something brain that is determined to bring up every dumb emotion I swore up and down I had buried!”
He was silent for an uncomfortably long time.
Staring at the fire crackling away in the fireplace, she nearly jumped when he said her name.
“Humor me. Come with me a minute,” he said, sliding off his chair.
She said nothing, but stood to follow him.
He led them back into the main room, where the Ancient Oven turned to greet them, their weird voice tone still grating to Purah’s ears.
“Greetings, Dr. Robbie and FamiliarNameMissing,” they said.
Robbie chuckled, regarding the machine with a look that was probably uncomfortably soft for just about anyone else. Purah, however, remembered the look well. He had always been attached to the guardians they had drug into the Royal Research Lab, giving each of them individual names.
At the time, she pretended to think it was stupid, but, secretly, she had known all the names he had given them.
“My pride and joy, the Ancient Oven. Few things I love more in life,” he said.
She breathed a laugh, uncrossing her arms.
“Jerren, though...hates it,” he continued, getting another laugh from Purah.
“Kinda figured that. The way the poor thing sprung to life after Link finally replaced the blue flame told me it hadn’t been on for a while,” she said.
It had been rather sweet; Link not even needing to be asked to do it. The second they arrived, he saw that the outside furnace wasn’t lit, and headed off without prompt. The personality adjustment was still new to everyone, but he still had his core, endearing qualities.
“Ancient Oven wasn’t her original name,” Robbie continued. “And well...I suppose you deserve the truth.”
The machine looked between the both of them, Purah now regarding her...differently.
“Ancient Oven, what’s your name?” he asked.
She focused on him. “My name is simply Ancient Oven,” she responded in her odd cadence.
He shook his head. “What’s your real name? The name I gave you?” he clarified.
She hummed for a second, a slow grind of her gears. “My name is Cherry.”
There had been considerable heat emitted from the machine before, but Purah was positive the heat she was now feeling was from her own flush.
“Why are you named that?” Robbie asked.
“I am named after the first woman you ever loved...” The machine almost seemed to hesitate.
Maybe it was a part of her programing to acknowledge everyone within her vicinity while talking.
Maybe it was pure happenstance.
Maybe the machine somehow knew.
“Cherry,” she concluded, looking straight at Purah.
If she was flushed before, she was having a full-on hot flash now.
“Don’t misunderstand me. I love Jerren dearly. I love the son she gave me more than life itself...but there will always be a part of me that belongs to you.”
Run.
She wanted to run.
She wasn’t sure what was making it so hard to breathe. The heat from Cherry, her own flush, or the knowledge that she could say the very same to him.
She wanted to cry.
“I’m sorry-- I shouldn't be here,” she said, turning on her heel to leave.
“Purah-”
“No, no- I shouldn't be here. This was stupid- I’m so fucking stupid-- I knew coming here would do this! I knew seeing you would do this,” she said, ranting her way to the door. She didn’t even bother going back for her coat, or anything else she didn’t have on her person. Zelda and Link could grab it for all she cared. She needed to get out.
“Purah, please,” he pleaded, following her to the door.
The midday air outside was far cooler thanks to the constant breeze coming off the ocean.
She looked around, searching for Mule among the horses in the nearby holding pen.
“Maybe I should have left without saying goodbye! I knew it then-- I should have made you hate me! Getting you to hate me- I should have. I should have done it.” She nearly tripped down the stairs, barely catching herself in time.
“You know damn well I could never hate you. I only ever lo-”
She instantly reared on him, talking over him so she didn’t have to hear that word. “Don’t! Don’t say it! Don’t you fucking say it!” she yelled.
Words that were all too familiar.
Words she said before.
Her eyes began to sting as she fought back tears. “I don’t care if you don’t feel it now, but don’t you dare tell me you felt it then!”
He waved his hands in exasperation. “Why? What is so damn bad about hearing me tell you how I felt?” he asked.
“Because you just don’t get it! You don’t get how pathetic I feel because I never got over you! I never moved on! I promised you I wouldn’t let you hold me back, but I lied to both of us! For over 100 years, I never moved on! I’m pathetic!” she yelled.
Only the wind dared to break the silence that followed. A soft rustle of the spring leaves. A sound far softer than her confession.
It took everything in her to not crumble in on herself. “You just don’t get it, Robbie. Maybe it was easier for you to move on, but I just...I never could.”
He grabbed a hold of the railing, but made no motion towards her. He only looked pained. “I don’t know what to say here, Purah. Nothing I can think of will make you feel better.”
#loz#tloz#hwaoc#botw#purobbie#fanfics#my fics#wip#can u believe there's gonna be MORE AFTER THIS#AND ALTERNATE ENDINGS????#it's wednesday somewhere#wip wednesday#i'll post another wip tomorrow PROPERLY but i just CANT resist sharing this
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Too Short For Ao3 Fic #3? 4?
SO this is the extended edition of the bonus wip I did with Sally's birthday. The overall fic it belongs to is Extremely Smutty, so I went in and revised out the brief references and I'm posting the family-centric g-rated stuff for anyone who wants that but not the smut! Cough.
Also, I felt bad about missing WIP Wednesday again. Lolsob.
Percy rouses at around eleven PM to a sketch of himself on Jason's pillow. There's a note on the other side.
I wanted to wake you up to say goodbye, but you looked so comfy I didn't have the heart to. your mom's presents are in the bag by my desk. say hi to everyone for me. I'll call tomorrow anyway.
love you to the moon and back.
-J. ❤
Complete with a little red heart. He doesn't even care that the doodle of him next to it, burritoed in a pile of blankets, includes a little spot of drool— he can tell by the rest of his cartoony, ballpoint features that Jason put it in because he thinks it's cute.
(And by the fact that he's said so, several times.)
Percy gathers up his junk. The cornflower blue sweatshirt he steals goes halfway down his fingers. He's come to accept that at six foot three and counting, Jason is the taller of them and always will be— barring some sort of horrible wood-chipper accident or curse from a grumpy deity.
Fortunately, there's something about looking up to meet someone's eyes that Percy finds incredibly attractive. He has since Annabeth outgrew him for the first time in eighth grade.
He heads out in his own jeans and the boxers he packed and the sweatshirt that smells like cinnamon. Once he boards the train, he stands with his arm around a pole and the other holding the bag against his chest, and tries to stay casual and keep the grin off his face.
It's almost midnight when he gets home. His mom, of course, is still awake, so he heads into the living room to greet her.
"My other half says hello."
There's a pile of presents on the coffee table. He puts the bag with the rest of them and sits down, kissing her cheek.
"He didn't have to get me anything." She closes her book and eyes the bag with a fond sigh. "How is he?"
Percy's the same way she is, always happy to do favors and give gifts, but feeling pretty awkward about receiving them. Jason's even worse, the three of them in an ongoing and circular competition to never let any of it go reciprocated.
"Working too hard, as always. Pulling As and winning games and barely sleeping to do it. His stepmother's up his ass and his father's a bully, so, you know, news at eleven." He leans his head onto her shoulder. "That's why he gives you stuff. He's trying to show you how much he appreciates you."
She sighs, and Percy knows it's because she's just as frustrated by the whole thing as he is.
"He knows I appreciate him too, I hope."
"Without a doubt." Percy smiles at her, watching as she goes a little pink and smiles back. "You have a talent for making him feel appreciated."
"He treats my baby like a prince," she says softly. "That's why I appreciate him so much in the first place. How could I do anything else?"
Percy turns his face into her shirt collar, another futile attempt to hide his goofy expression,
"He really does, doesn't he?"
Holding doors, pulling out chairs, offering an arm on unsteady streets. Jason's never laid his coat over a puddle, but Percy's pretty sure he would, if the option presented itself.
His mom starts playing with his hair, her fingers light and familiar.
"I'm just happy you're happy, sweetheart."
He knows that feeling too.
Half asleep from the petting, Percy lets himself be a little babyish. It's after midnight now, which means it's her birthday, and he knows that sometimes she misses when he was Estelle's age and little enough to curl up in her lap. He's way too big for that now, obviously, but he can still slide down the couch and rest his head there.
"You too, Mama."
She looks at him, her eyes misty with emotion and almost green in the light.
She's smiling, too.
She smiles a lot, these days.
—
In the morning, Paul makes coffee while Estelle helps unwrap the avalanche of presents. She's at the age where ripping paper makes her squeal with hysterical laughter, which worms its way into Percy's heart and melts it into pudding.
Several of them are from Percy's friends, including a handbound book of original recipes from Leo, a lovely silver bracelet inset with mother-of-pearl that Beckendorf made himself, and a huge sheathed knife with a matching decorative handle from Clarisse. The last one makes his mom snort as she gets up to put it on the bookshelf, out of reach of curious toddler hands.
"Decorative. Sure."
"I bet she'd teach you how to use it if you asked."
"I know how to use a bowie knife, dear. Your father and I used to catch and cook our own fish when we went camping."
"Which reminds me, he still hasn't taken me out," Paul cuts in, frowning. "I've been saving up dad jokes and embarrassing stories for four years."
"I'll bug him about it the next time we talk," Percy promises. "It's probably the ADHD."
"Do you want me to bug you about bugging him?"
"If you haven't set something up by blueback season, yeah."
Percy and Paul went in on a pound of jasmine tea, which his mom reaches for next. She immediately asks for a cup— it's one of two days out of the entire year where she lets other people wait on her, for a change, and even that took a lot of cajoling.
Paul makes the tea, since Percy usually scalds the leaves and it turns out tasting like grass. She probably wouldn't complain anyway, but it's her birthday, and she deserves to have the best tea that can be made in their kitchen.
"Is the last bag from Jason?" Paul sets the mug on a coaster in the middle of the coffee table, and Percy scoops the baby into his lap so she doesn't try to grab it. She mashes her tiny hand against his cheek.
"And Thalia. I'm not sure if they went in on stuff or he just packed them both in one bag to make it easy."
Either is a possibility. He watches as his mom reaches in and pulls out a large wrapped frame, Thalia's spiky handwriting answering the question.
Whatever's inside, it makes her shut her eyes and exhale deeply through her nose.
"Please pass on that I am absolutely furious."
She turns the frame around. An autographed vinyl EP of Sign O' the Times by Prince— one of the albums Percy grew up on, though she skipped a number of the songs when he was little. Thalia must have spent a fortune on it.
"That woman is incredible," Paul breathes, lightly touching the glass. "How does she get this stuff?"
"See!"
"She has friends in high places." Percy grins as Estelle reaches for the album, and holds her over the glass so she can touch it too. "She's also really good at barter chains."
His mother shakes her head, but he can tell how delighted she is— the two of them have spent hours animatedly talking about music, Thalia hanging on every word and groaning with jealousy over the concerts his mom went to in the eighties.
"I know exactly where I'm going to put it."
Thalia got her a turntable for her fortieth birthday last year, as well as a full set of replacements for every worn-out record in their collection— and had the originals framed too, since they had sentimental value. They're currently occupying the better part of two walls of his mom's study.
There's a blank spot by her bookshelf, right underneath the first copy, that the autographed album will fit into perfectly. Percy grins.
"I'll hang it up for you later."
She doesn't argue. There's only Jason's left, his careful print written out across the same paper Thalia used. The crinkling draws Estelle's attention, and she gleefully reaches over to help tear it off.
Their mom gasps at what's inside and puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes going bright.
It's a watercolor portrait of Percy and Estelle, laughing by the shoreline. She's dressed in a little bucket hat, a ruffled swimsuit patterned to look like a clownfish and the coolest shades in the world— sparkly blue frames shaped like seashells that he kind of wishes he could get in his size. He's in a wetsuit, having spent the morning surfing, and he's holding onto her hands so she can jump at the waves. In the distant background is the Montauk lighthouse.
It's beautifully done, like everything else Jason's ever put to paper, but Percy's never choked up like this over one of them.
"You remember that, Beluga? That was on my birthday, when you came and visited me and Jason at the beach."
"Beach?" she asks, expectant. Paul bursts into laughter, sounding as rough-voiced as Percy feels.
"You're your mother's daughter, sweet pea."
"Beach!" Estelle insists. Percy noses her pudgy cheek.
"It's too cold to swim, baby." His mom's eyes are sparkling, still a little teary. He can see Estelle in the smile on her face. "But we could go for a walk and visit."
"Brunch first." Paul kisses her— Percy averts his eyes, wrinkling his nose at his sister to make her giggle again— and gets up, heading back into the kitchen.
It's a lovely way to spend a late morning. Pale blue araucana eggs courtesy of Grover's new hens, a blueberry coffee cake from Nico by a fantastic hole in the wall in Hell's Kitchen, Paul's signature home fries made with blue potatoes and seasoned to perfection; all of it delicious.
Jason calls while Percy's doing the dishes. After his deep, resonant performance of the happy birthday song, the five of them chat on speakerphone for a little while, though he has to excuse himself pretty quickly to keep banging through his reading.
"Maybe next year," Percy sighs. His mom puts her hand on his hip, then crouches down to help Estelle with her light-up sneakers.
"He's always welcome for a rain check."
"He's always welcome, period," Paul adds. For the second time, Percy gets dangerously close to sniffling.
Montauk is a little far for a day trip, so they head to Brighton Beach instead. Estelle's shrimpy legs get tuckered out more quickly than the grownups' do, so Percy ends up carrying her on his hip, snuggled into his jacket to block the chilly breeze. She points at seagulls, shouting triumphantly every time.
"More bird!"
"That's right. A whole flock of 'em."
They watch for a while as the gulls fight over a discarded pizza crust. Then Percy feels an arm around his back and a head against his shoulder.
"I don't know how I got so lucky," his mother murmurs, barely audible over the rushing of the waves.
Percy's eyes sting.
For most of his life, her birthdays had been spent without fanfare. He was rarely actually there for them anyway, and Gabe complained so much it was easier to just ignore the day and focus on survival instead.
She'd been triaging like that since before she even met his dad, keeping herself afloat when nobody seemed to care if she drowned. It would have been easy to lie down and give up. Percy's pretty sure he would have, in her place.
He turns to hug her with the obligatory proclamation of a Stella Sandwich. He catches Paul's eye over her shoulder, and gets a wide, sentimental grin in response.
"Luck's got nothing to do with it," Percy tells her, leaning his cheek against the top of her head while his sister wriggles with delight between them.
"Listen to our son," Paul adds. "He's very wise, as you raised him to be. This is all on you, honey."
Within moments, she's surrounded by her whole family on all sides, and Percy has another arm around his back, and he's getting a little choked up over it all.
When she first started dating Paul, back when Percy was still in middle school, she'd spent weeks all aflutter. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her at the time. They'd sit outside and work on her car together, and she'd slip into song like a grease-stained fairytale princess without even thinking about it.
Seeing them interact is like cool water on a burn, Paul's devoted kindness soothing a lifetime of sitting back and watching people treat her like dirt. He worships her, just like she deserves and long overdue.
"I love you," she says, tearful and muffled in someone's shoulder. "All of you, more than anything."
"Love Mama," Estelle replies, and that's it— Percy's blubbering.
It'll never undo the damage, but it's about time she got a chance to heal and thrive.
-here in our bed, chapter 7, ~6200 words
#wip wednesday#yes I know don't look at me like that#i wrote this#sally jackson#paul blofis#estelle blofis#family fic#oh lord the cheese
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* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter
A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!
This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime.
1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits
For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is.
My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute.
2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background
Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?
My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault.
3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom
“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.”
Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs.
“One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.”
__________________________
Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)
Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."
My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always.
4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC
Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”
“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”
It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.
Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?
“Pardon?”
“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”
“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”
“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.
“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.
“I—what?”
“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”
“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.
Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.
“You don’t?”
He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.
My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other.
5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits
The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.
My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad.
6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex
It happens like this:
“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”
And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”
It happens like this:
“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”
It happens like this:
When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.
My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.
7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits
Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.
Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.
My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity.
8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J
“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”
Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.
And March?
March is trans.
My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap.
9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits
Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.
He’s not, of course.
Enter the Ice Crew.
AKA: The Ice Crew AU
My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form.
10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC
All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.
My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story.
Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.
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Working on a WIP scene for Heard Your Heart Beating, my Klapollo friends to lovers post AA5, slow-burn fic
___
//Come fix your prosecutor// read Athena’s text. Apollo groaned wondering what Klavier could have done in the hour Klavier had spent at the WAA.
He adjusted his tie in the mirror of his locker, checked to make sure that he no longer looked sweaty from his ride over from court, and shoved his cycling outfit into his locker along with his helmet.
He could hear laughing on the other side of the office’s front door so that was a good sign, he hoped, as he swiped his keycard through the lock.
“Herr Forehead has finally arrived from his battle with the courts!” Klavier beamed at him with the smile that Apollo was now coming to call “on-stage-mode”. Klavier was sitting on the sofa next to Athena, coffee cups and tea biscuits between them on the table.
He could hear Mr. Wright bustling in the office kitchenette.
“I am back,” Apollo announced, “...and I survived Blackquill-“
“Oh, is that the reason you biked back? Simon didn’t offer to give you a lift?” Athena laughed, “how mean. He needs to learn to leave it in the courtroom.”
Apollo rolled his eyes, “Probably, but I am sure it has more to do with him needing to go down to the precinct and yell at the poor detective who sent him into court with an outdated autopsy report...also, what would I have done with my bike? I don’t want to ruin the guy’s new car by stashing it in the back seat.”
Mr. Wright arrived from the kitchen, fresh pot of coffee in hand, “Wow. A defense attorney having an updated report instead of the prosecution? Never thought I’d see the day...”
Apollo flopped on the couch opposite Athena and Klavier, “Hey. Miracles do happen...and considering all of our court win-streak, we shouldn’t be too surprised that they exist.”
“Here. Here.” Klavier said amiably into his coffee looking as if he was about to attempt to change the subject. Oh, Klavier wasn’t getting away from whatever occurred before Apollo arrived so easily,
“So... what’s this about me needing to fix ‘my prosecutor’?”
Klavier made an amused expression, “Ah, is that what I am called? Well I am honored to be Herr Justice’s”
Athena rolled her eyes, “Oh stop with the charm-“ she looked at Apollo, “he doesn’t want you to know that he’s never been to the Tragic Kingdom”
Apollo stared at Klavier, “Seriously?” which earned Klavier a playful elbow to the ribs from Athena, “Told you he would react like that”
Klavier sighed, “Is it really that big of a deal? Not going to a children’s amuse-“
“HOLD IT!” Apollo didn’t care that everyone about him flinched (“Indoor voice, Polly, jeeze”, Mr. Wright muttered”), “Disneyland is for everyone,” Apollo breathed, “you seriously haven’t gone? Ever? I mean...it’s only in Anaheim. That’s less than an hour without traffic from here-“
Mr. Wright handed Apollo a cup of coffee, “It’s been a while since ‘Mr. Disney Adult’’s shown his face at the office.”
“You say that as if you don’t have an annual pass too, Mr. Wright.”
Klavier appeared lost in the conversation; it was refreshing to see Mr. Tall, Blonde and Unflappable looking out of his depth, “Is it really a big deal that I haven’t?”
“Mm...not so much,” Mr. Wright said before Apollo could object, “well it wouldn’t be a big deal if you were hanging out with someone else, but I mean considering that you two have been spending a lot of time outside of court together, I think it’s more shocking that Apollo *hasn’t* dragged you down there already.
“You act like I go there all the time-“
“Says the person who has scheduled himself to come in late on days where there are morning annual passholder events,” Athena mused, “or how about the time you, Clay and Trucy, just decided to go to Disneyland after work because you wanted corndogs for dinner”
Across from him Klavier made a face, as if silently saying “Corndogs for dinner? Really? What are you, five?”.
Apollo met ‘his prosecutor’s’ eyes, “Those corndogs are legendary, and the only ones I’ll eat,” he rebutted, not caring that Klavier hadn’t actually said anything.
“He has a point there,” agreed Mr. Wright, “so I guess the big question is- how long before Klavier gets pulled into driving Apollo down to Anaheim?”
Klavier looked around the room at all of the other attorneys as if expecting for someone to tell him suddenly that this was all an act. Apollo meanwhile was mentally running through his calendar to figure out when he would have time to properly take Klavier to the park. There was so much to do at work-not to mention, he would have to prep Klavier for his first park visit.
“Do you like amusement parks?” Apollo asked Klavier.
The blonde man simply shrugged, “I’ve only been to a few in my life. Mein family wasn’t really into things like theme parks; didn’t see the value in them as entertainment. And when I moved here, I just didn’t go-“
“Not even grad-night?” Athena asked, “Junie told me that’s what the student council is setting up for the seniors. It’s tradition. Heck, every high school in Southern California does a school trip there at least once.”
Klavier shrugged, “I graduated early, remember? I guess I could have gone to the ceremony with the class that was graduating that year, but I wanted to get mein badge so I went home as soon as I could to pass the bar in Germany.”
“There’s one in France!”
Klavier sighed, “If I asked to do anything outside of museums and cultural experiences while we were in France, I would have been left in Germany.”
“Anyway,” Athena said, “If you’re going to hang with Polly, you’re going to have to go to the parks eventually-“
Apollo felt his cheeks heat, “I mean if that’s not what you like to do for fun, you don’t have to-“
“Oh please,” Mr. Wright interrupted, “I can confidently bet that you’ve been sitting here this entire time planning a trip for him.”
Apollo crossed his arms and sat back in defeat as Athena continued to regale Klavier with anecdotes of the WAA’s trips to the parks as well as Apollo’s impromptu visits,
“Has he shown you his pin collection yet?” Athena said in a tone that was too close to the tone she liked to use whenever she teased Apollo about his and Klavier relationship not being as platonic as Apollo made them seem.
//As if she doesn’t know the actual truth// Apollo grumbled, “Okay enough. Klavier already knows I am a nerd- he doesn’t need any more evidence about it”
“Ach you’re always cool, Herr Forehead,” Klavier smiled again in “on-stage mode”, which made Apollo decide that he needed to show Klavier what he was missing.
“When’s your birthday?” Apollo blurted.
Athena groaned, “Oh my god, Apollo, haven’t you heard of Wikipedia?”
“I like that Herr Forehead doesn’t feel the need to research me, it makes a rock god like me feel practically human,” Klavier teased and then with an amiable grin, “May 23rd.
However-I told you that on Valentine’s Day, don’t you remember?” He said a little too suggestively for Apollo’s comfort,
“I’m hurt that you don’t remember… and here I thought things that were shared during sleepovers were sacred,” he added a pout for good measure.
Out of the corner of his eye, Apollo saw Athena not-so-subtly pull out of her phone to text something, most certainly to Trucy.
Great, he was not going to know peace from either of them for the foreseeable future.
Although, Apollo appreciated that Athena had the grace to attempt to hide her grin.
Whether or not Klavier was aware of what was happening next to him, Klavier only sipped at his coffee.
“So in three weeks. Great, guess what we’re doing to celebrate your 26th birthday,” Apollo announced.
“It’s on a workday.”
“Take off.”
“Don’t you have to work?” Klavier asked
Apollo turned to Mr. Wright, “Mr. Wright, may I have the 23rd off?”
“Of course. Just put it on the calendar.”
Apollo, having won the debate, smiled smugly at Klavier, “Get ready, we have a lot to do before then.”
Klavier looked genuinely confused, “Like what?!”
He was about to ask what Klavier’s favorite Disney movie was, but then Athena’s phone buzzed, “Simon’s here- he needs help bringing up the food...and Trucy says she wants to also go to Disneyland for Klavier’s birthday, I think that’s a good idea; what do you think, boss?,”
Before Apollo could say anything about Athena or Trucy inviting themselves, Mr. Wright smiled and said,
“You know what- unless something pressing comes up and Trucy doesn’t have any projects or tests at school, I think the agency needs a mental health day. Maybe Miles and Prosecutor Blackquill need one too,” he remarked walking towards his office in order to most likely call his fiancé.
Finally alone- sort of. At least until Athena and Prosecutor Blackquill came upstairs with the food. But still, alone enough to enjoy Klavier silently trying to figure out what the hell just happened...or Apollo would have enjoyed Klavier’s genuinely flummoxed expression, except that he remembered how Klavier, despite his celebrity status, didn’t like to draw attention too himself unless it was in court or on stage- and especially not in public.
It was the reason Klavier hadn’t shown up to Clay’s funeral after all. He looked at Klavier feeling guilty for putting his friend on the spot,
“Sorry, if you don’t want to- we don’t have to-“
“Nein, nein,” Klavier said with his genuine smile, “you all are so passionate about it, now I have to experience it”
“Are you sure? I didn’t even ask if that’s how you wanted to spend your birthday-I just kinda got caught up in it.”
Klavier shrugged, “Honestly, considering that I usually spent the last few dragged to stuffy VIP lounges of clubs I wasn’t interested in, with people who, as it turned out, cared less about me- I think this may be a gut change of pace.”
Well that made him feel better...and a bit sad for Klavier, “I’ll make sure you have a good time and we won’t be overwhelmed. A lot of celebrities go to Disneyland, and they don’t get mobbed- people are pretty respectful of celebrities having their time in the parks.”
“You sound as if you are familiar.”
“Clay...worked there for a summer, celebrities would come all the time as park guests. And aside from maybe helping a celebrity escape a crowd, they don’t give anyone special treatment unless they’ve paid for a guided tour-“
“Oh- are we not doing that, Herr Forehead?”
Apollo snorted,“Hell no, you’re going to stand in line for Space Mountain like the rest of us plebes.” Also I’m not about to suggest we spend $800 an hour for a theme park tour...
Klavier’s laugh was enough to make Apollo feel better and better about commandeering Klavier’s birthday. He was going to look forward to these next few weeks in getting Klavier ready for his first time at the park. The thought of movie nights made Apollo feel a bit warm inside. Warm in a way that he hadn’t felt since Klavier had comforted him during his own birthday.
The office door opened, Athena holding it open so that Simon could come through with the large box that contained their takeout dinners. Apollo braced himself for any barbed words from Athena’s prosecutor; considering how the day’s court proceedings had gone, Apollo expected some amount of sour grapes. Instead Simon ignore Apollo and incredulously regarded his co-worker with,
“You’ve seriously never been to Disneyland, Gavin-dono?”
***
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KCFICRECEVENT -Day 8 - Quick-Fire Questions
Belated Quick Fire answers, here we go! @klaroline-events
1. Who are your favorite KC writers?
@she-walked-away @bellemorte180 @lalainajanes (LalainaJ) @marvelouskatie @strongbeautifulfulloflight (Wrecklessrighter) to name a few!
2. Who’s your favorite KC smut writer?
I have spent a good amount of time plowing through @lalainajanes‘s one shot collection Make Some Noise, which includes a fair amount of smutty drabbles, and every single one manages to be just as good as the last. I think that when you write so much smut, you can get worried about scenes becoming too similar (that’s what I stress over especially) but they write their smut so effortlessly and each scene is unique and crafted to the context of the prompt! (I also appreciate the commitment to recognising how dangerous shower sex is)
3. A fic that you have read more than once.
Dirty Little Secret & Unexpected Exposure by @she-walked-away. I cannot tell you how many times I have read them. Dirty Little Secret is the reason I began and completed my first official Klaroline WIP (my crappy attempts a year prior don’t count), back when I actually...prepared multiple chapters before posting... And Unexpected Exposure is arguably my favourite fic that I have ever laid eyes on. Their writing is so consistent in both narration and dialogue and their charactersation is marvelous!
4. A feel-good fic that never fails to make you smile. + 5. A fic that has made you cry.
Family Game Night by @strongbeautifulfulloflight hands down! The very first time I read it years ago, I laughed so hard that I cried (which I guess answers question 5 as well). In fact, the scene in which Kol has clearly lost the plot after his phone is destroyed and he loses his high score is what inspired his first scene in my story Psychedelic Kicks! This story is just absolutely a bundle of fun and laughter and I recommend it to anyone who hasn’t read it.
6. A fix-it fic that has made you feel vindicated.
Fortitude by @life-needs-epic. Obviously, I recommended it for day 3 of the event so you can see my review and graphic there!
7. A fic that has made your romantic heart scream.
Picturesque by @supernutellastuff. I have definitely mentioned my love for it before and I really wanted to recommend it for this event BUT I held myself to a criteria of active/ongoing fics for the main 7 days. Still, I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH. I think this writer has a wonderful gift in building chemistry between two characters whether it’s romantic or platonic. The details of their friends arguing over things like coffee beans and other seemingly innocuous topics are fantastic. Their friendship group feels so natural and there’s not a single one of them to dislike regardless of flaws. There is one scene in which Caroline calls Klaus very late at night just to clarify whether he had been in the same country as her at the same time and it makes my heart scream SO MUCH.
8. Your favorite drabble writer?
@itsnotacrimetoloveyou has written so many wonderful drabbles including one that I recommended this week! Luiza never fails to create such cohesive and compact stories within these drabbles and her writing is just so engaging.
9. What was the story that made you fall in love KC fanfiction?
The Madness Underneath by @marvelouskatie. If you haven’t read it, go read it. The biggest reason I love this fic is that it is honest and realistic. It doesn’t try to bend in favour of the ship by making it all fluffy and sweet. These characters feel like real people and the plot is interesting enough that KC are just the cherry on top.
10. A fic you love and wish more people would read.
The Other Side of Sacrifice by @queencarolinemikaelson. You can find my review for it on day 2 of this event along with the graphic under the kcficrecevent tag! I just want to point out again, however, how they do such a wonderful job writing this diversion of canon. It takes how the diversion would affect their relationship into account without going too far off base of who their characters are. Klaus is starts off quite cold (because well he’s dead, duh) but it’s an expected and understandable level that just works for this story. They have to get to know each other under an entirely different circumstance and that circumstance is so interesting. I really can’t wait to see what’s in store and I hope the author knows just how much I love it!
11. A fic that isn’t your regular cup of tea for whatever reason but that you love anyway.
Demonology by @bellemorte180. I know I know, ‘Lottie, you have recommended three fics in this post that you have ALREADY recommended this week’ but it’s my fic rec post and I’ll do what I want. Let me start this off by saying: I love horror. HOWEVER, when it comes to Klaroline fics, I am extremely wary of fics that label themselves as ‘dark’. If you want to know my complete reasoning then I will happily share but expect a rant lmao. With all of that in mind, this story, though in its early days, is setting the stage for a roller coaster of madness and I am ready. Right off the bat, Erica throws a curve ball and from then on, the story only sinks its teeth into your soul more and more. The way the progression of Klaus and Caroline’s relationship is intertwining with the story so far is flawless and I hope that if you haven’t read this yet, you will give it a shot. I promise you’ll adore it.
12. A multichapter you wish would be updated NOW!
Fair Silvers of Us by @carolineforbae (like seriously, Giulia, I GOTTA KNOW HOW IT ENDS). This is another type of fic that wouldn’t usually be my cup of tea but Giulia is an excellent and engaging writer. How could I not fall in love with it? I think that mates as a trope can be a very delicate thing to handle, but Giulia deals with the issues expertly throughout the story. GO READ IT.
#kcficrecevent#klaroline#klaus and caroline#I had to stop myself from writing a full on essay for question 11 because I wanted to focus on the story rec
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Halo- Chapter 1
SPN-FICFANATIC MASTERLIST
"HALO” MASTERLIST - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE
Fic Summary: You’ve lived next door to Jensen and Jared for a year and have had a somewhat strained relationship. After a recent and massive change in your life your paths cross again and they discover the cause of that, and bridges start to mend in unexpected ways.
Characters: Jensen x Reader, Jared x Platonic!Reader
Chapter 1 Words: 2664
Genre: Angst mostly
Warnings: Swearing (the reader is a bit of a pottymouth). Blood.
Trigger Warning: Descriptions of domestic violence.
A/N: I’ve had this one on the backburner for soooo long, you have no idea! I probably finished it 6 months ago and have just had it sitting in my WIP folder trying to get up the motivation to post it. I hope you all enjoy :)
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Their neighbour had been complaining about their “loud” music all year, so when your music started blaring through the wall separating your apartments Jared and Jensen could only look incredulously at each other.
“Is she kidding?” Jared snapped, pausing the game and putting his controller down.
“It’s pretty unusual,” Jensen commented, doing the same and looking at the wall separating them from you. They could hear shuffling against the wall also, not a sound they were familiar so they were having trouble placing it.
“What do you think?” Jared asked with a frown.
“I think she’s been pissy at us all year for our loud music, and then the first day off we have in a week to play video games she blasts hers? No deal,” Jensen replied with a huff, putting his controller on the ground and standing up. Jared followed him as they walked out the door and headed to yours, knocking loudly to try and get your attention. They weren’t normally the “mean neighbours” but your incessant irritation at their music choice, asking them to turn it down when it was already as low as human ears could hear, was tipping them over the edge.
The woman they expected to see when the door opened was not the prim and proper uptight Y/N they were familiar with though. Your hair was in low pigtails and you were dressed in a simple white t-shirt and overalls, and for once you had a smile on your face. The usual caked-on make up was gone too, showing off your actual face for the first time.
“Oh, hi guys!” you greeted them with a wide smile which lit up your entire face. Jared and Jensen just gaped as they stared at you, stunned by your unexpected look and demeanour change.
“Is everything o… Oh shit, I’m so sorry my music!” you realised with a gasp, taking your phone out of your pocket and turning the volume down, activating your Bluetooth speaker in the middle of the room. “Shit, I’m so sorry, that must have been so loud on your side. There was a quiet song and I turned it up and then I forgot and the next song played and I just kinda got into the rhythm and… sorry, I’m rambling.”
“Umm, yer,” Jensen replied, clearing his throat to try and form coherent sentences.
“It’s err, it’s fine. We’re just trying to play Xbox, you know, and …” Jared started but you cut him off.
“And my music interrupted you, of course. I can’t apologise enough, especially after how I’ve acted this whole time. Actually, hang on, I have something for you guys,” you said, suddenly disappearing to what they presumed was your kitchen. They poked their heads in and saw the floor was covered in tarp, and a bucket of water and a sponge mop were leaning against the wall you shared. Jared was about to comment when you suddenly reappeared, practically bouncing into the door frame holding a large basket.
“This is for you guys, just a little something to say ‘sorry’ and ‘I hope we can start over’,” you said clearly embarrassed, handing them the basket and backing up a step.
“Um, wow, this is… unexpected,” Jared commented, looking at Jensen who for some reason couldn’t take his eyes off you. He nudged his shoulder, knocking him out of whatever world he was in and stared pointedly at the basket to bring it to his attention.
“Err yer, Mrs Y/L/N isn’t it?”
“Oh god, please call me Y/N. And you’re Jared and you’re Jensen so that’s the introductions out of the way. And it’s nothing really, I know I’ve been hard to live next to this year. For what it’s worth I think you have brilliant taste in music! But my husband, well, ex-husband now. Wow, I don’t know if I’ll get used to saying that. Anyway, he had this thing about music, he liked what he liked and damn anyone else you know? And anyway he’d, sorta, send me over whenever he wanted you to turn it down. It’s shit really cuz I couldn’t listen to music any other time but if I didn’t go over he’d, well, anyway… I’m sorry is basically what I’m saying, you know?”
You took a breath to fill your lungs after your ramblings, and Jared and Jensen watched on with wide eyes.
“Wow ok, yer, it’s fine. Really, don’t worry about it,” Jensen stumbled out, scratching the back of his head and looking at you in concern. Jared’s attitude had also taken a complete 180, and he also watch you with a worried expression on his face.
“This is… you really didn’t have to. It’s nice that you did, maybe you could come over tomorrow and we could share the goodies?” Jared suggested with a small smile, hoping you would agree. They were both saddened when you shook your head.
“Nah, it’s ok. I mean, it’d be great to have a beer sometime but I sorta have plans.”
“You’re not talking about painting the walls are you? Because I promise we’re a lot more fun than literally watching paint dry,” Jensen said with a lopsided smirk and you let out a giggle.
“I hope you are. And yes, I AM painting but this is kinda, well, it’s dumb. It’s a bit like therapy I suppose. I always hated this colour, HE picked it out so I just need to change it like now, you know?” you asked, blushing a little and hoping you didn’t sound like a crazy person.
“I get it, makes total sense,” Jensen replied with a genuine smile, hoping to put you at ease. “We’ll let you get back to it, if you like.”
“And you know where we are if you feel like a beer or something ok?” Jared added, shuffling his hand out from under the basket to pat his hand on your shoulder. You smiled at the friendly action and swallowed down the tears that you could feel coming to the surface. You nodded and gave a small wave before slowly shutting the door and turning back to face your mission for the weekend.
“Well, THAT was unexpected,” Jensen said once they were back in their apartment.
“No shit, and what about that crap with her husband? Did you have any idea?” Jared asked, putting the basket down on the kitchen counter. Jensen shook his head.
“Nah. God, how did we never notice? I mean, looking back she was never around, you know? And the rambling? It was almost like she was worried we’d interrupt her before she finished or something.”
“It sucks man, I reckon we go over with breakfast or something tomorrow. Let her know we’re cool.”
Jensen nodded, deep in thought. He couldn’t help but look back over the last year since you and your husband had moved in, and the little signs started to become more obvious. The long sleeves in summer, the fact you never left the house only to water the lawn and get the mail. Christ, you even had a black eye once.
“Fuck man… are we idiots?” Jensen asked sadly, flopping down on the couch before Jared joined him.
“I’m starting to wonder that myself.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your basket of goodies turned out to be entirely home-made. Biscuits, croissants, muffins, a pie…. It basically turned their kitchen into a bakery. And each bite the guys took only caused further guilt to pile on. Both went to bed that night feeling uneasy, both vowing to themselves to make sure they reached out and looked out for you.
It was an unwelcome turn of events that the following morning Jared was called into set. They were supposed to have the day off however they needed a shot and they needed it ASAP. Jared grabbed a muffin on the way out the door at 8am, leaving a note for Jensen explaining he’d be back “sometime after lunch (hopefully). PS. Don’t eat all the pie. PPS. I mean it Jay, don’t.”.
Jensen would have loved a sleep-in but his mind had been racing since 7:30am from the events of the previous afternoon. He’d heard the muffled conversation from Jared’s room and made the correct assumption he was headed to the set, but opted to stay in bed instead of getting up and being forced into conversation at such an early time. A shower and a cup of coffee later, Jensen was ready to face the day of basically doing nothing. His gaming buddy was out for the count and he didn’t have any scripts to read through. When the soft sound of music floated through the air he smiled and headed for the door, before remembering what you’d said. This was your therapy, and you didn’t need him interrupting that. He groaned in annoyance and picked up the Xbox controller, throwing in Halo 3 for the hundredth time.
It was around 10am that he heard the unmistakable sound of a gasp followed by swearing. Hitting the mute button he tried to figure out the problem before racing over and embarrassing himself over a stubbed toe.
“Fucking shitballs! Ahhh ok, shit, you’re ok Y/N. Just a bit of blood, you’re fine…” you muttered to yourself, and at the mention of blood Jensen was already up and out the door.
The blood was starting to spread across your shirt, and you were limping to the bathroom for the first aid kit when a loud pounding came to the door. You were startled, but calmed down when you heard Jensen on the other side calling your name. You took a deep shaky breath and headed over to the door and opened it just slightly, enough to block his view of your bleeding abdomen.
“Jensen, hey, how’s it going?” you asked quickly and with a strained smile, holding your stomach out of his view.
“Is everything ok? I thought I heard swearing,” he said rushed, concerned plastered over his face. You sighed and closed your eyes before resting your head on the door, berating yourself internally for bothering him.
“Shit, I’m sorry about that. I’m fine really, you can go back to Halo…”
“No I think maybe I- wait, how did you know I was playing Halo?” Jensen cut you off, looking at you confused. You laughed.
“I think we’ve established at this juncture that the walls are paper thin Jensen. I’ve played 1 and 2 and recognise the music. You suck at it by the way, I can hear your terrible aim from here” you giggled, standing up straight again and enjoying the gentle banter you seemed to have quickly developed. Jensen laughed too, happy to see your eyes light up if only for a moment. The moment passed quickly though when he spotted the blood on your shirt, and he gently pushed the door open further to get a better look.
“Shit Y/N, your stomach,” he mumbled as he reached out to lift your shirt. You stepped back with surprise at the sudden physical contact and he apparently picked up on that.
“I mean… God, I’m sorry Y/N. I’m just worried, can I please check your stomach? I’d never forgive myself if you bled out after I went back to gaming,” he told you, lifting his hands into a surrender pose to show he meant you no harm.
You bit the corner of your lip, sizing him up and down. He was a big strong guy and you were alone in your apartment with him, but he had proved himself nice enough so far so perhaps it was worth the risk. You nodded slowly and pointed to the bathroom.
“First aid kit is in the vanity, I’m just gonna...” you gestured to the couch while he headed to the restroom for the bandages. By the time you were seated he was back, kneeling on the floor in front of you and opening the bag.
“What happened?” he asked as he rummaged through, looking for the antiseptic.
“Um, popped a stitch I would wager,” you replied quietly, looking down into your lap embarrassed. He looked at you confused as you gently lifted your shirt and peeled back the blood-soaked dressing to reveal the wound on your stomach. A couple of inches long, it looked red and angry and Jensen’s heart broke a little when he laid eyes on it.
“Shit Y/N, what happened?” he asked again.
“I guess you guys were out a few nights ago?”
“Um, yer, we’ve been on set late all week.”
“You missed all the excitement then, kind of explains your coming over yesterday looking like deer in headlights,” you sighed. “Michael, err, my husband… EX husband. We got into an argument while he was chopping up vegetables for dinner. Apparently the dishes don’t go in like I put them in and he could only tell me so many times and one thing lead to another and, well, let’s just say I gave Mrs Krandle across the road a mini-heart attack when I stumbled from the house bleeding,” you rambled, shutting your mouth quickly after your confession. Jensen stared at you with his mouth agape, astonished with what you just told him.
“Um… shit. That’s-”
“Fucked, yer. In a way it’s good though. It got him out of my life and the police reckon he’ll be going to prison for some time. And you know, I’m not dead so that’s always a good thing. And hey, I can stack the dishes anyway I like now so yey for that bit of freedom,” you laughed, trying to make light of the situation but when your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes Jensen could tell you were putting up a front.
“Hey,” he said, lifting your face to look at him. Your eyes were glistening and you were swallowing hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. “There is nothing ok about any of this. And I’m sorry we never noticed. We feel like such idiots for leaving you to deal with him.”
“Oh God, please don’t blame yourself. I literally don’t think I could take that, please,” you begging him, the dam overflowing and the tears falling freely now. “He was smart enough to only hurt me when he knew you were out. He was manipulative and cruel and a complete douchebag and I was too blind to realise he was playing me like a fucking fiddle. And now even after he’s gone I’m jumping at every noise and every shadow in the corner of my eye, and the damn music can never be loud enough to shut up the voices telling me I’m not good enough and that he was the only one who would want me and-”
“Y/N stop,” Jensen said firmly and you pursed your lips shut, blushing when you realised how much you’d revealed.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, this was absolutely not meant to turn into an episode of Ricki Lake or anything. You can go, I can handle this I promise,” you told him, moving to grab the antiseptic wipe packet Jensen had yet to open. He pulled it back and stared at you with worry in his eyes.
“Not a chance. Just… lay back and I’ll fix you up. And then if you want to we can talk about all that crap, or we can go next door and play Halo together. Whatever you want… Deal?”
You nodded timidly, and decided silence was golden while letting him clean you up. After declaring further stitches were not required he gently wrapped a bandage around your waist and stood up to put the first aid kit away. When he returned he looked at you, not with pity but with determination.
“So, it’s up to you. We can hang out here and talk, or you can come next door and play Xbox. Painting is so completely off the table. What do you want to do?”
Chapter Two coming soon
SPN-FICFANATIC MASTERLIST
"HALO” MASTERLIST - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE
Tag Lists (Open)
Halo Series taglist: @ocean-waves-that-misbehave, @flamencodiva @krys198478, @lostnnot2befound, @deansyahtzee
“Dean/Jensen” taglist: @lilydarcy (won’t tag *SOB*)
“Everything” taglist: @angelsandwinchesters, @grace-for-sale, @growningupgeek, @iamnotsaneatall, @nanie5, @waywardasfudge, @ronja-uebrick, @im-dead-inside05, @julzdec, @adoptdontshoppets, @meghanbeinghappy
#supernatural#supernatural series#Supernatural Fan Fiction#supernatural fanfiction#Supernatural fanfic#supernatural angst#Supernatural RPF#SPN#spn fic#spn imagine#spn reader#spn fanfiction#spn fanfic#spn rpf#Jensen Ackles#jensen ackles fanfiction#Jensen Fanfiction#jensen ackles x reader#jensen reader#Jared Padalecki#jared fanfic#jared fanfiction#jared fan fiction#jensen fanfic#spn reader insert#supernatural re
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Sneak Peek Sunday
Suggested by the amazing @sententiousandbellicose, I present Sneak Peek Sunday. Every week I shall post a snippet from one of my WIPs, whether it’s yet to be finished or just waiting to be edited.
No new story to tease (I’m stuck in a bit of a holding pattern as to what to write next, and would welcome suggestion). So this week’s Sneak Peek Sunday comes from Good Morning, Holby: a remix of The Kill List, set on a breakfast morning show!
Enjoy:
Any chance of she and Bernie having a private moment alone was impossible now. Jason's words were gospel; Serena's aloofness (that was masking her insecurity and feelings) now Bernie's first impression upon her return. In her mind, Serena couldn’t care less that she was back. Which was probably why she had ducked into the dressing room as quickly as possible. She still looks utterly gorgeous. Tangled curls and long legs; thin lips and a glint in her eye that came from being the best combat journalist in the country. No jagged scar bisecting her eye or her roots showing.
It was hard to be angry, hard to be aloof, when she was reminded just how much she bloody loved Bernie Wolfe.
Like before, Serena found herself unable to stop staring at Bernie as they prepared for the morning briefing. Watching her partner make the familiar rounds: heading to Craft Services, exchanging thoughts on the weekend's rugby. Like before, they caught each other's gaze across the room. It had been comfortable before: secret glances, secret smiles. Everything carried weight now. But, like before, Bernie passed over several empty seats to sit at Serena's right. Like before, she was juggling two plates of food. Serena already had their coffees.
"Old habits," she said, as Bernie sat down.
"Quite."
They swapped coffees and plates: Serena getting a pain au chocolat; Bernie a bacon sandwich drizzled in brown sauce. They sipped their respective coffees. It wouldn't be too long now until Fletch began the morning briefing. The room was slowly filling up with people. If Serena wanted to say something personal – clear some of the respective air – this was the moment.
"Just so you know, I hadn't forgotten you—" Serena mentally kicked herself; try not to declare your undying love in front of the entire room, Campbell. "—forgotten that you were coming back today. It's on my calendar."
Bernie had only been here five minutes and already Serena was back to being a teenager paired up with her crush.
At least Bernie wasn't faring any better. She, too, had devolved into lip biting and fiddling with her hair. "I, um, wasn't expecting a trumpet fanfare on my arrival."
"Damn, all those lessons for nothing!"
Oh will the world just swallow me up. But Bernie still smiled; both chuckling awkwardly: a cover for all the things they had yet to say. Things like I am still in love with you and why did you leave? and I've missed you so bloody much. But there was no opportunity for such frank discussions as Fletch had finally arrived. So they settled for a boilerplate end to their conversation. If anyone was watching them for the very first time, they would be unaware that they had shared two passionate kisses, an unspoken love confession, and a brutal farewell.
"Anyway, um, it's good to be back."
"It's good to have you back."
Fletch then began the morning briefing. It started with a rousing applause welcoming Bernie back into the fold; this time Serena joining in with gusto. After that was the rundown of the show. Today's Good Morning, Holby would begin with the news and weather; a discussion of the newspaper headlines and online front pages; Cooking Kandahar Style with Bernie; Serena's business and finance segment she had brought over from her time at the six o'clock news. Morven and a couple of their reporters had stories that would go out, and Serena and Bernie would also interview Sam and Jo, a couple who had been together for over fifty years but had only recently walked down the aisle.
"Then we wind down, go to my boy Raf with a final look at the weather, and we can all go home for a nice kip! Right, see you in thirty, everyone."
Chairs scraped and plastic cups crumpled as the staff headed for their pre-air tasks. She and Bernie were destined for a wardrobe check and make-up. They'd be seated in hard plastic chairs, poked and prodded, for the next fifteen to twenty minutes before heading for their three hour live show. Not much time to make a move. As the room emptied, Serena reached for Bernie's arm.
"I don't suppose you fancy working on some story ideas later, do you? I've got some thoughts on Brexit in this region and what it means for the NHS."
"You do know how to show a girl a good time."
Serena stuttered, utterly flustered by Bernie's words and that twinkle in her eye; a twinkle that, had they been alone, would have likely led to a repeat of the morning Bernie had left. But they weren't alone. Jason was here.
"Auntie Serena, have you told Bernie what happened between you and Robbie?"
"Robbie?"
Bernie asked so naively; as if Robbie was a journalistic source or perhaps a very loud and angry internet commentator. But he was just a sports reporter Serena had dated earlier in the year. They'd been serious until his inability to accept Jason had rendered him utterly unworthy of her time. Bernie knew his name; Serena had bitched about him several times over the course of their friendship. What Bernie didn't know was that she had used Robbie to scratch an itch after they'd met again at the Midlands Media Awards.
Serena could deny Jason's assertions that she had forgotten Bernie. She couldn't deny that she had slept with her ex-boyfriend not two months after she had after essentially told Bernie she was in love with her.
"I thought they were going to get back together. I also thought she loved you, but she obviously doesn't." It was like watching a collision. There was nothing Serena could say or do to stop it. Bernie was crushed. "I don't understand relationships, do you?
Bernie wouldn't meet her eye. "They are very puzzling."
"Are you enjoying your first day back?"
All the ground they had covered had just opened up and swallowed them both whole. "Oh, yes, yes, loving it. Every second."
Bernie left without as much as a goodbye. Shoulders hunched, arms crossed: Serena was reminded of the Bernie she'd first met all those months ago. A guest spot on Guy Self's show about her time in Afghanistan – and the IED that had sent her home – had turned into a regular gig on the evening news. Their first few run ins – at Craft Services, in the car park – had given Serena the impression of a capable reporter who just didn't know why she was there. Serena loathed the thought of Bernie being uncomfortable in what had essentially become her home.
"I like Bernie." Well I more than like her, Jason, and right now she thinks she's nothing more than a colleague. "Why are you frowning?"
"I'm not."
"You are. I can count the lines. One, two, three—"
"—Jason, please."
"Have I said something wrong?" Serena didn't know how to explain that his brutal honesty – a trait she should encourage, and nurture – had unwittingly hurt Bernie and any chance of recovering their friendship. Possibly more. But Jason could read her expression as well as the lines on her face. He bowed his head. "I have, haven't I? I should get back to work."
Suddenly Serena was left alone in the briefing room. How fitting. That's exactly how her heart felt.
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YOU HAD BETTER KEEP WRITING YOUR STORIES / STORY IDEAS. THIS FANDOM IS TOO SMALL AND THE STORIES ON AO3 ARE ALL EITHER CHINESE OR RUSSIAN.
HEY FRIEND. CAN I INTEREST YOU IN SOME OTP MEMBERSHIP? *PRAYS FOR ANOTHER REUYANG CONVERT*
BUT OMG YES. i 100% agree! the fandom is too smol, needs mOAR of everything pls
but dw, i am busy scribbling away. all the time. gotta feed my otp obsession somehow????
ANYWAY WORD COUNT SUMMARY BELOW OF MY WIPs + 700w of random modern reuyang AU lmao
current word count on my almost completed fic (and i’ll let you in on a secret it’s not reuyang EN GASP) - this should be ready to post in a week or so, have about 1-2k left to write i think:
and then of course, the monster i am raging on and off at, the canon au fic. i want this done before september but we’ll see, i think it’ll be another 5-10k (more rather than less ugh):
but anyway, i’m always super excited to see someone else interested in my fic, please have some half-headcanon’d drabbles - i was screaming @beingevil at professor yang & then why not add some movie star reuenthal:
#1
Yang runs into Oskar for the first time when he’s about ten minutes late for his own 8am lecture.
The ‘runs into’ is literal because Yang’s turning around a corner, a folder full of lecture handouts that didn’t make it into his bag tucked under one arm, eyes fixed on his phone screen, his other hand composing a text slowly to his assistant so they would start the class without him.
He’s just sending off the text, sighing, when he walks into something very solid. His lecture notes go flying, as does his phone, both of them landing with a sharp crack against the concrete pavement that makes him wince instinctively, one after the other. Yang himself ends up with his back pressed against a dirty brick wall, slightly out of breath from the impact, but uninjured.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” The voice that speaks is deep, a man’s voice, and it’s only then that Yang realises what had actually happened.
The man is crouched before him, picking up his sheaf of papers, which Julian had the foresight to clip together with a bulldog clip after helping him print it last night as well as his phone.
When he stands, he towers over Yang by a good head. Strangely enough, despite it being halfway through autumn, his face is mostly obscured by a pair of aviator sunglasses tinted entirely black and an unmarked black cap pulled low over his forehead.
Yang takes the proffered items gratefully, inclining his head. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
A quick glance at his phone screen tells him that it’s broken but still working, the LCD panel lighting up when he presses the power button, which is more than he could’ve hoped for under the circumstances. He slides the now slightly dirty manila folder containing his class notes into the relative safety of his bag and zips it shut.
When he looks up again, the man is watching him, eyebrows furrowed a little warily, but when Yang just stares back at him a little questioningly, he seems to relax a bit.
“How can I make it up to you?” the stranger asks, tilting his chin towards the broken phone.
Yang pockets it hurriedly and waves his hands in front of himself a little awkwardly. “Oh. No, don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’s mostly my fault anyway.”
He checks his watch, mutters a curse, and then looks back at the other man apologetically. “I’m sorry, I need to run, I’m already late for my class.”
Then with another awkward wave, Yang hurries off without turning back.
#2
“He’s a what?” Mittermeyer blinks at Reuenthal.
“A college professor,” Reuenthal repeats patiently. He’s sitting with his ankles crossed, slouched casually into his chair.
His customary black aviators are shielding his distinctively coloured eyes, an adequate disguise for the most part. Most people, even if they recognised him, were nice enough to leave him be, especially when they saw that he was just out and about with a friend.
They’re sitting at one of the coffee shops that Mittermeyer likes to frequent with his wife usually, with hearty breakfast options paired with strong-flavoured, locally grown coffee beans.
Reuenthal’s already on his second cup while Mittermeyer is still slowly savouring his first.
Their breakfast plates have been cleared away already by a cheerful young waitress who had done a very obvious double take when Reuenthal had first walked in with Mittermeyer, but was professional enough to be nothing but polite during service, making sure that they were seated in a small corner, tucked away where no one could see them with a casual glance from the entrance or through the large ceiling to floor windows that faced out to the main street.
“He’s lovely,” Reuenthal says, pulling off his glasses and tucking them into the front of his crisply ironed off-white shirt. “Smart, adorable and has absolutely no interest in my fame. He didn’t even know my name the first time I met him.”
#3
Yang pushes open his office door and is immediately overwhelmed by the scent of fresh flowers.
There’s several artistically arranged boxes of different blooms placed around his desk, all bright colours, yellows and pinks and purples.
When Yang edges closer, he sees a bouquet of blood red roses that sit on his desk proper. There’s a small note tied to the bottom, a thick, smooth cardstock that Yang flips open.
There’s no flower that can compare to the beauty of your smile, it reads, written in a bold, elegant hand.
The initials printed on the bottom are O.v.R and Yang flushes a bright red when he realises who the sender is.
#anon-chan#ask me#talk reuyang to me#reuyang#linc ficlets#to the anon who sent me an ask about the arranged marriage au#i am 100% working on it <3#eulerian-circus#logh#legend of galactic heroes
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