#but then I got distracted with finishing and editing this fic lol
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needy
no thoughts besides steve harrington wearing those big 80s glasses
warnings: 18+, smutty smut, rimming (both ways), lots of ass play, steve and reader are both switches, breeding, talk of babytrapping, steve is needy and so is reader, not edited or spellchecked lol
i’m going to be 100% real with you guys, this one is nasty because i’m inconsolably horny and lovesick and you’ll probably end up getting a kink you didn’t know you had through this blurb/fic. you’re welcome xoxo love you have safe sex and don’t fuck or date anyone who doesn’t live up to the steve harrington/eddie munson boyfriend standards
“what’re you lookin at,” steve has a pen in his mouth, concentrating on the crossword laid out on the table in front of him. the two of you had been drinking coffee late into the afternoon. lazy saturdays were quickly becoming your favorite activity with him, whether it be filling out the crosswords, you reading a novel, watching cartoons. quality time and simple days like this one was more fulfilling than date nights, date nights were on fridays, the next day you always woke up in his apartment excited to make each other breakfast. steve liked strong coffee, which you’ve gotten used to and now have a taste for. but the glasses, you never got used to those, something about seeing stevie in glasses had you feeling feral and ready to jump his bones. like wild hysterical cuteness aggression had invaded your thoughts, you had to fight off the urge to rock his world every time you saw him wear them on your lazy days.
“nothin’, ” you turn your eyes back to your current novel, rereading the page you had already finished because you were so distracted you forgot what happened on said page.
a small smile played on his mouth, a knowing smile, he was more than aware of the effect the glasses had on you. the man was in gray sweatpants and shirtless for christ’s sake he knew he was torturing you. “come on, i know something’s on that mind of yours. what is it?” steve put his clicky pen behind his ear and gave you this cute quizzical look.
“you,” you pointed at him accusingly.
“be careful who you’re pointing fingers at, miss. what did i ever do to you,” steve feigned innocence, he’d been trying to get you revved up since he’d woken you up with the smell of hash browns wafting through the apartment. he knew food and coffee were sure fire ways to get your grouchy butt up before 10 am. when you’d stumbled out of bed with a blanket wrapped around your head, shielding yourself from the dreaded sunlight that flitted through all of the open blinds. steve was a natural early riser, but you? yeah, not so much. steve was holding a spatula in one hand and a pan in the other, “breakfast is served, sleepyhead,” he looked so tan and cute you had to hold yourself back from every dirty thought that filtered through your head.
“whatever, you’ve been slutting yourself around the house all morning. who do you think you are??”
steve chuckled at how silly you sounded when you were frustrated, “god, you’re adorable when you’re mad come here.”
you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, a defiant action on your part. you wanted to get under his skin as much as he got under yours, he’s not the only one who can tease.
“ok fine, be like that,” steve stormed over to the counter, refilling his mug for the third time today with a slight pout on his pretty face.
payback time
you get up and follow him until your behind him locking your hands around his lower stomach and pulling him towards you. “be like what exactly, stevie?” you kissed his back and rested your head there and hummed, “i’m not doing anything wrong, am i,” you let your hands roam to the front of his sweats and find he’s already hard for you. he lets out a faint gasp when you palm him through the soft material.
“i- i what are you talking about,” steve stuttered and blushed, thankful that you couldn’t chastise him for the face he was making.
“you forgot what you said to me already, that figures, your brain is mush when i touch you, huh? aw you’re so cute when you’re flustered,” you use your tip toes to get a glance at steve’s flushed face. he rolls his eyes at you and you giggle in return.
steve let’s put a strangled breath, “p-please touch me, baby i’ll die if you don’t.”
“you’re so dramatic, i am touching you,” you ran your hands over his hips and grazed his cock lightly with your fingers over his sweats.
“no, baby, here, i need you here,” steve grabbed your hand and shoved them into his boxers. “i need you, fuck, i need you bad,” steve whimpered and humped your hand shamelessly and with need.
“now was that so hard to ask for, you didn’t have to tease me all morning to get me to touch you. you have to use your words, stevie.”
“i like teasing you, m’ sorry,” steve gripped the counter while you pumped his cock in your soft hand.
“you’re such a bad boy, humping my hand like you didn’t tease me on purpose all morning,” you release your grip on him and tell him to lay down for you on the bed. steve wastes no time and rushes to your shared bedroom. laying on his back, all ready for you to do whatever you wanted to him.
you lie on top of him and kiss him sloppily, his favorite. you’re both all tongues and moans, he grabs your ass with want, “take these off, wanna feel you,” steve says, he sounds so needy and desperate you decide he’s earned it. once you flung your panties to the side steve’s spitting on his fingers and toying with you.
“you’re being so good i guess you deserve this,” you moan into his mouth and kiss down his neck.
“mm now this,” steve tugs on your pajama shirt, “please?”
“since you’re being so polite,” you remove your shirt and squeal a little when steve pulls you close and smothers himself with your tits, licking and sucking and not wanting to let you go. “wow you really needed this, didn’t you?” steve nods his head and squishes your ass to his crotch. steve pushes his pants and boxers past his ass in desperation, “gotta feel you,” he groans when you grind down on him.
“feel better, stevie?”
“mm, yeah but it’s not enough,” steve flips you over so you’re under him now, undressing for you completely and sparing no time with diving between your legs. “you know what i want,” steve slaps your ass and flips you onto your stomach. a sort of muffled moan slips off your tongue when his mouth licks through your folds and to your asshole.
“you’re so dirty, baby,” your hands are gripping the sides of the pillow for dear life.
steve let’s out a dark chuckle at this, “but you love me for it, don’t you? who else could do this to you?”
“mm..only you,” you answer by holding the back of his head to you, he’s so dirty, moaning while rimming you.
“tight little thing, aren’t you,” he groans pinching your clit and continuing his assault on your poor ass that he’s gripping and smacking relentlessly.
you run your hands through his hair and pull on it, to which he moans, “dirty boy, aren’t you?”
“yeah baby, whatever you want me to be,” steve leaves a deep hickey on your ass cheek and bites down a little before letting up to give you a break.
“fuck me,” you beg him and you’re completely aware of how crazy it makes him, whining because you need him so bad.
“don’t have to tell me twice, look who’s the needy one now, huh?” steve has your chin tilted up at him, pushing two fingers in and out of you , “you want it bad? show me how bad you really want it.” you do the first thing that comes to mind, rubbing his cock with your foot. “oh my god, fuck,” steve moans, “fine, but taste yourself first,” he lets you suck the taste of yourself off of his fingers.
“yum,” you lay back on your elbows to slightly prop yourself up. steve’s crushing his body weight on top of you and you fall back onto the covers with his hands all over you. “you’re groping me, stevie.”
“you like it,” he spits on your pussy before slamming himself into your cunt. there’s not an inch of space when the two of you are like this, you’re grabbing his ass and he’s crushing you with his weight, tongues and lips, kisses and scratches. steve wants more though, you can feel the question coming before he asks it, he always does this. “please,” it’s said as a question and you know what he means, you smirk knowing he needs you just as bad as you need him. when you don’t say anything he says please again but it’s more of a whine while he grabs your hand and places it on his ass.
you nod and steve’s climbing over you to reach into the bedside table for lube, “ok, i’m ready,” and he fuck himself back into you. he’s fully laid out on top of you with his whole weight, grinding himself into you and holding your face while you kiss sloppily. you reach for his ass again, pushing him down onto you more and finding his hole, pushing a middle finger in and curling it slightly. steve whimpers, “more,” you add your pointer finger and ask him sweetly if that feels better and suddenly he’s a fucking mess on top of you. pathetically humping and grinding himself into you while you fingered his tight hole.
steve’s sucks on your neck, surely leaving a hickey in his wake and then licking over the spot, “are you a vampire, baby?”
steve’s so fucked out and sweaty he can barely concentrate on the words you’re saying so he just smiles and crashes his lips to yours with a feverish need. he’s fucking you into the mattress with reckless abandon, and when every part of you is soaked with his sweat he finally comes with a string of curses and kisses littered on your tits. “mm,” steve pulls out of you and stares at his come inside of you, pushing it back in with his fingers. “bout’ time i breed this pussy,”
you half gasp and half laugh at this, the condom completely skipped your mind. “stevie! why didn’t you remind me?”
“why remind you when i can babytrap you?” steve smirks and kisses your lips softly.
“oh my god! you can’t say that,” something about that gave you butterflies even though you know it shouldn’t.
“but my come looks so pretty in you,” steve laughs and you know he’s not joking but you laugh with him anyways.
“you’re a piece of work, you know that?”
“whatever you say, baby,” and gives you a wink that could make you forget just about anything.
later that night steve is tossing and turning and it’s obvious he’s not going to stop until you do something about it.
“knock it off, i’m tryin to sleep here,” you mutter into the pillow.
steve flips over so he’s facing you, wordlessly pulling you towards him so you’re chest to chest, his thigh wedged between your legs.
“what do you want stevie,” you say running your fingers through his fluffy hair.
“use me,” he answers and rocks your hips for you on his thigh. you grind yourself down on him and kiss his pouty lips. you do this for a little while until you’ve found a rhythm and then turn him over on his back. you sink yourself down on his hard cock and wonder if he’s been hard this whole time he’s been tossing and turning, you lazily grind on him until he comes in you for the second time tonight. you roll over next to him where he holds you and kisses your shoulder, “if i get hard again just put me outside, i’m sorry honey you just drive me crazy.”
if only he knew how crazy you were for him.
#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x yn#perv!steve harrington#steve harrington x reader smut#my fanfics <3
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Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 1!
DO NOT read these commentaries until you have finishes reading the entirety of The Golds! These commentaries have many spoilers for future chapters.
First I’m gonna talk about why I decided to write this fic in the first place, because it wasn’t part of my original roadmap for the series. After I finished writing Daemon’s Handbook, my plan was to write an epic longfic with POVs from all the Targkids that encompassed a multi-year timespan a la the ASOIAF books…and then I realized if I did that, I had high odds of burning out halfway through 💀.
I’ve discovered that I do better at writing fic if I have an ending an mind when I start writing it, and the story needs to be something I can finish writing in several months so I don’t lose steam or get distracted/go on hiatus too long. That meant I needed to focus on a specific story with 1-2 protagonists/narrators that had its own complete story arc within the series’ larger arc.
When I finished writing the Handbook, I read a lot of books during my break. Several of those books were about fashion history, and one was the official GOT costumes book. I got really obsessed with fashion in the HOTD world, and I temporarily thought about writing a Rhaena POV fic because in my verse, she’s really into fashion and I wanted to put my newfound amateur knowledge to use 😅. But as I brainstormed what her story would look like, I realized it was super adjacent to Jace’s story because Rhaena is her lady-in-waiting, and eventually I shifted over to a Jace-centric story.
While I was brainstorming the Rhaena fic, I thought of a pregnancy subplot where Rhaena has to create Jace’s pregnancy wardrobe, and that pregnancy plot ultimately became the central story in The Golds. I was originally going to make Jace the sole narrator as she deals with the pregnancy, but I realized Aegon would have some really entertaining thoughts so I made it dual POV. This is when I started thinking about the Bridgerton approach, where each Targkid gets to be the star/costar of their own story in roughly chronological order.
The title “The Golds” is a reference to the canonical Greens and Blacks. There’s a theme throughout the story of Jace and Aegon accumulating popularity and soft power at court and among the smallfolk. This growing faction will unofficially be called the Golds because Jace and Aegon are strongly affiliated with that color, due to Sunfyre’s scales, Jace’s preference for gold, and all the symbolism that gold entails.
Most chapter titles are lyrics from the in-universe lullaby “The Song of the Seven.” Since the fic is about pregnancy, childbirth, and parenthood, I thought a reference to this lullaby was appropriate. My original outline had 7 chapters for the fic so I was going to title each chapter after the first line of each stanza in the lullaby. As I wrote the fic and realized it was going to be more chapters, I had to get creative. For Chapter 1, I picked the Maiden lyrics because the Maiden is associated with innocence and young women. Aside from this chapter including the wedding night (and thus Jace’s last night as a maiden), this is also the beginning of Jace’s character and emotional journey, during which she becomes less innocent/naive and, as you know, encounters a lot of darkness in the real world.
Ok now for the actual chapter commentary lol
I started showing during the Handbook that Jace is a responsible, dutiful “eldest sibling syndrome” kind of person, and I wanted to really highlight that in this fic. In the beginning of this story, Jace is the neurotic workaholic while Aegon is hedonistic and urges her to relax. Throughout the story, Jace does learn to relax and delegate better, but Aegon also starts picking up responsibilities along the way. By the end, my goal was for them to meet in the middle, where Jace learns that she has to take care of herself if she wants to take care of others, and Aegon learns that he needs to put in some work in order to secure the things he really wants in life.
There’s also a theme of private vs. public. Jace starts as having a very public life (she’s the heir to the throne, her life is on display at court) while being very private about things like her body and personal wants. In contrast, Aegon is very public about his body (the casual nudity is canon, don’t blame me) and personal wants (“I love my wife and everyone must know it”), but he wishes he could have a private life (be his own person and do what he wants, rather than be the prince and politician his family wants). Again, they kind of grow to meet in the middle by the end. Jace learns to be more selfish about her desires and fight for them (she also becomes more comfortable with her body around Aegon, although the self-consciousness never entirely goes away). Aegon learns to put aside his hangups about “I don’t want to be a player in the game” and steps into the arena so he can ultimately achieve what he wants, which is to protect Jace and their child.
We see the beginnings of Aegon’s powers of observation this chapter. He notices the Bracken/Blackwood exchange (these are the same lovers that Daemon spies in the tunnels in Chapter 9 of the Handbook) and deduces a likely explanation. This trait was inspired by a TGC quote about how Aegon is very observant and knows people’s weaknesses. I loved this idea that Aegon observes a lot of what’s happening around him, but canonically he’s too drunk and apathetic to do much about it. Here, Aegon is not an alcoholic and he’s a lot more grounded, so he actively registers a lot more details.
I mention in Chapter 2 that Daemon is part of the reason Aegon doesn’t drink so much, but that’s definitely not the whole story. Aegon seems very driven by the pursuit of dopamine, things that give him pleasure. In canon, he achieves this through whoring and alcoholism. Here, he has Jace, who has always fulfilled many of his emotional needs and now his physical needs. His life is a lot happier, so there’s no need for him to drink himself into a stupor. He did still have a youthful period of debauchery, but it’s not an outrageous amount of debauchery for a spoiled prince—although still in an upper percentile.
Aegon remains impressively chaste during the Stepstones because he realizes his youthful debauchery was a big reason Rhaenyra disapproved of him. And by the time he leaves for the Stepstones, he’s realized (thanks in part to their forced separation, thanks in part to Jace being the prettiest girl he can ever imagine existing) that no other woman is ever going to compare to Jace, so why bother? (He definitely had a locket or something with Jace’s mini portrait and lock of hair lol)
Aegon’s attitude toward dancing (he’s good at it but he hates the formality) is similar to his overall attitude toward court life and politics. He can do it if he wants, but he just doesn’t want to—unless it makes Jace happy.
Confession: the Tyroshi subplot wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. I’ll explain more in future chapters, but for now, I’ll just say Floris and Sara weren’t always intended to die. But they did die in the final draft, and in hindsight I’m glad I included the Baratheon scene this chapter. Originally the scene was supposed to showcase Jace’s politicking and diplomacy, as well as lead up to her eventually picking Floris as a lady-in-waiting. Now it has extra meaning because it shows how sweet Floris was, how she fit in with her sisters, and how her mother doted on her 🥺.
I actually kind of like Maris, she’s funny in a mean girl way 😂. But she canonically has a tendency to run her mouth and say nasty things. Here, I think she feels jealous that Cassandra is getting so much attention from potential suitors, and that contributes to her rudeness. Jace could have publicly shamed Maris for being so rude to a Targaryen bride at her own wedding, but she decided to be sneakier about it and not cause a scene. Jace wants to maintain a good relationship with the Baratheons while making it clear what Maris said is unacceptable, so she extends the private tea invite to the other Baratheon women while deliberately omitting Maris from the offer. Now Lady Elenda feels honored by the invite and relieved to not have disfavor, and she’ll probably give Maris a terrible scolding in private.
The bedding tradition seems awful and potentially traumatic, especially for the bride (but that’s ASOIAF for you!). I can’t remember what’s canon or fanon, but I went with the interpretation that the bride and groom are supposed to be stripped naked or close to it. I feel like the royal family ought to be exempt from it (in a privileged “nobody else is allowed to behold our naked bodies” kind of way), but I know Alysanne made a point of having the bedding ceremony so nobody could question her marriage was consummated. The ceremony also seems horribly wasteful because all that expensive material and labor that went into the wedding clothes is just trashed, but I guess it’s a status flex. Only the super-rich can afford to deliberately destroy all those resources after one use.
I wish I wrote more scenes where Jace and Aemond hang out 😭. They have a lot of similarities: dutiful, studious, responsible for their siblings. I imagine their relationship being super chill. Then again, they’re very proper so they probably have hangups about spending alone time with someone of the opposite gender for extended periods of time 🙃. Anyway, their relationship is much less antagonistic than in canon. Fem!Jace thinks bullying is wrong and tones down Aegon’s mean streak, while Aemond has a chivalrous and gentlemanly attitude toward women (contrast with book!Aemond, who seems pretty misogynistic). Since a lot of the friction from canon is removed, they get along much better, and this Aemond is more comfortable with the idea of fem!Jace being queen one day because they start from a better place, and he’s her good-brother.
You can see my newfound fashion history geekery showing itself during the scene where Jace gets ready for bed. (Also, take note of how meticulous Jace is. It highlights her general cautiousness, and it serves as a contrast for Chapter 3). I try not to get too flowery with description, but I decided it was relevant to highlight key fashion choices like her wedding dress because it is an aspect of Jace’s influence at court, and she is concerned about appearances. I incorporated a lot of design aspects from GOT, which are much less medieval than the HOTD gowns. I had this idea that the older generation (Alicent and Rhaenyra) stick more to traditional cuts and designs, while Jace and the other girls are starting a new fashion trend akin to what we see in GOT, where styles are more flattering and multicultural.
Jace’s wedding dress is strongly influenced by Margaery’s Purple Wedding dress. The backless part makes it rather daring, and it’s part of Jace and Rhaena’s goal to depict Jace as a leader among the younger ladies at court since matrons are far less likely to wear something so revealing. Also, in GOT, Daenerys’s dresses tend to be much more revealing than anyone else’s, so I deduced that the fashion culture in Essos is overall more daring than in Westeros. Rhaena grew up in Pentos, so I decided she brings that influence into Jace’s wardrobe, which then spreads through court. Jace’s jewelry (heirlooms owned by Valaena Velaryon, mother of the Conqueror and his sisters) is also a statement to highlight that she was born a Velaryon but now she’s a true Targaryen in name.
Jace’s lingerie is definitely Rhaena’s (and Baela’s) influence. Otherwise she would have zero clue what’s fashionable in Lys. 😳
Jace deciding to work on her wedding night is very in character for her. And Aegon making her stop to enjoy herself is also very in character for him. Definitely a recurring pattern for these two.
Like any scene I write, I try to make sure the smut has a purpose in the story. I don’t usually write PWP but I think smut scenes are an excellent way to demonstrate dynamics and emotional connections between characters, so that’s how I typically use them. Here, we see Aegon is devoted to Jace: makes her feel comfortable, ample foreplay, even cracks a few jokes because their relationship is familiar enough for that sort of thing. He literally “lets her hair down” so she can shed her usual inhibitions.
True to character, Jace overthinks the process. She knows the theory of how it works (Rhaenyra would ensure her daughters are informed of the mechanics, and Jace has been living with Baela for three years). She also knows Aegon enjoyed his time on the Street of Silk and she desperately wants to meet his expectations. She doesn’t realize that she could do literally anything (or nothing) and Aegon would still think she’s perfect.
Since Aegon hasn’t had sex in three years, he’s trying very hard not to finish too early 😅. It’s OK though, Jace has no idea how long a guy is supposed to last and they have the whole night to make up for it 😂.
In the Handbook, I hint at Aegon’s artistic tendencies when he doodles in his letters. Here, I expand upon that so he’s sort of a Renaissance man: he sings, he plays lute, he dances, he draws, etc etc. All the skills he enjoys are skills not conducive for a politician/king. In this verse, Jace encourages him to sing and draw, so he pursues it further than he would’ve in canon.
I like to think of the morning-after smut scene as when Cheeseball is conceived 😂. It’s when Aegon dirty talks about making heirs for the throne, and Jace thinks about how much she would like to have children with Aegon. It just makes sense lol.
GRRM makes his female characters give birth way too young. Some people argue it’s historically accurate, but it’s really not. Other than Margaret Beaufort (who gave birth at 13 and never had any other children, probably due to complications), royal and noble women generally married in their late teens and early twenties. But this is the world and culture GRRM created, so I’m trying to work with it. I still headcanon that in normal peacetime, highborns try to wait until bride and groom are at least 16 to marry because they are aware that giving birth too young is dangerous. It’s during wartime or when politics require an earlier consummation that we see things like Sansa marrying at 13 💀. So I made Jace realize, after she’s had time to stew, that being forced to wait three years was best. (Especially since she IMMEDIATELY gets pregnant.)
I had to research whether people with a broken nose (or recovering from rhinoplasty surgery, which apparently has similar side effects—the more you know!) could have sex. Apparently one of the concerns is causing blood vessels around the nose to expand/contract/whatnot, and arousal impacts blood flow so that’s why Orwyle bans any nookie 😔. No wonder Aegon bribes Alyssa to wake Daemon early lol.
A side effect of broken noses is bruising around the face and black eyes, so Jace looks like she got hit very badly. The ensuing gossip about how she got injured ties into the recurring themes of a) Jace’s concern with appearances and b) that courtiers can and will gossip about anything, and the more salacious the better.
Jace is pretty peeved that Luce was so reckless re: the tunnel incident, and probably upset that it inadvertently led to her broken nose. But as soon as Luce needs help, Jace stops caring about her injuries 😭. Another recurring part of Jace’s personality: she’ll do almost anything to help her loved ones but she’s much harder on herself. (Note Luce’s little question, “What do I do now?” which is a question she always asked Jace when she was in trouble as a kid.)
Aegon is closer to Aemond than in canon, since a) they went to the Stepstones together and b) Aegon had far fewer options for male companionship in this genderbent world so he had to lean on Aemond a lot more. The brothers aren’t the kind to have heart-to-hearts, but Aegon knows Aemond well enough to know that Aemond is really into Luce and is probably going to try to marry her.
With Larys dead, there isn’t a very good option for master of whisperers. The council keeps trying to fill it but the candidates never last for long. I like to joke that they’re holding the seat open for when Joff is old enough, but finding a good spymaster seems pretty difficult. Daemon would probably be good at it but he’s already flamed out of several council positions, and he would hate working with Otto.
A little more fashion history! A surcote is that quintessential medieval gown for women, which I decided is very traditional in Westeros. This is Jace’s first day at her new job, so she wants to dress extra conservatively. Color is a big deal in this world of Black versus Green, so she deliberately picks very neutral and inoffensive colors. She also styles her hair and wears gold jewelry from Aegon to emphasize her new marriage, which shows she’s a mature woman and is forging harmonious bonds with her husband across the Black/Green divide.
In canon, Corlys resigns his position as master of ships around Episode 2. Tyland is canonically master of ships during this time, but I made an error in the Handbook and turned him into the master of coin. So I decided to just force Lyman Beesbury into retirement, and this can serve as an in-universe explanation for the change in roles: Viserys (or somebody else) wanted Corlys to have his position back, so they reshuffled the council a bit.
Aaaaand Jace officially has a “first day at work” horror history. Vomited, fainted, and cried in quick succession. And for someone who values privacy regarding her body, this was an awfully public way for her to find out about her pregnancy (and have it announced) 🥲.
#my writing#meta#fanfic meta#hotd meta#house of the dragon meta#Aegon II Targaryen#female jacaerys velaryon#the golds
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Next steps for the AU:
-I have a couple of analysis-type posts to make. I love talking about this fic lol so I have a lot to say still. Included in this will be a review of art symbolism, setting as a character, and some selected real-life cases and research I ran across. I may also talk a little about fire symbolism as well as my fun fire-related words I purposefully scattered around (if you noticed me describe feelings as a spark a lot, it was on purpose lol.) I also may talk about a couple things that didn't end up happening, or did happen but almost didn't.
-This weekend I am going to revisit the fic chapters 8-12 to see if I can add more art to them. I had initially wanted more art pieces throughout the fic but the art would sometimes delay finished chapters for weeks (i have to both draw and color it traditionally, photograph it in good light, and then digitally edit it) so I started worrying less about it. If I do I will post those pieces and retroactively add them in the chapter.
-Speaking of retroactive edits, some earlier chapters of the story on AO3 have some issues with em dashes appearing smaller than they should be. This is corrected in my original document but I never got around to correcting the published chapters (i am always mildly worried the formatting will break lol.) When I do this I will also add cocoabats' cover into the first chapter. I also plan to retroactively edit some of my Fire Finder Math in chapter 3 because I think I made Grian's tower taller than it needs to be/at the wrong elevation. This won't affect the chapter outcome at all I just Need that to be accurate for myself
-I have a great many web weaving materials that I have slowly collected over the months that I would like to mess with again. I have been saving them in a #f tag on my main blog, but I didn't make any except for one because I wanted the full context of the story to be published.
-Going to upload the Letters from the Lookout drabbles into the AO3 series. Hopefully in the future I may add more. Or, I may not. We'll see. I also have a Scar-centric story called "Alpenglow" in my outline. based on its structure it may have multiple chapters, but it will not have any sort of through-line plot. It's selected scenes from his 8 years career as a lookout. I want to write this, but I don't know if it will be or not. With the main fic done I will be releasing my brain to work on other projects/ideas that I didn't want to get distracted by earlier. That doesn't mean it won't happen, it just means that it may not happen on a fast timeline.
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Which Secret Life POVs I've Watched So Far (will be updated and edited as I finish)
OK so I may or may not have gotten distracted again- oops- but basically I'm putting here which POVs I've already watched in full and what my first thought about each one was.
-WARNING: wall of texts and ramblings from an mcyt obsessed audhd under the cut...and also spoilers. Don't click unless you're ready for simultaneously spoilers and an ungodly amount of text lol-
Grian: "God this series is so hype I can't wait to see what all happens and- OMG GEM IS HERE! :D GEM IS GREAT! I can't wait to see her kick Etho's ass at PvP again /lh ...waiminute...is that logo on the statue...is that the Watcher logo??? Huh??? Wait...and why does it have the same mossiness of the Entity and Grian's s9 base? Suspicious...OMG the chaotic Best Friend energy with Mumbo and Grian- tbh would be me and my best friend on any given day. Amazing. Their laughter is so infectious too lmao- Oough merch! Pretty :3 Wait it's over already? Aweeeeh ): can't wait for the next episode tho!"
Mumbo: "Wait he switched sides of the circle when Martyn punched Jimmy lmaoooo just like 'these people are crazy, save me, Grian-' 💀 The best friend energy omg still amazing I love their dynamic so much! Ooh a sideways house that *IS* an interesting idea! WHY DOES JIMMY KEEP BREAKING THE CRAFTING TABLES LMAO Hmmmmm Impulse ik cherry blossom is great, but that salesman voice is indeed very sus. I'm with Mumbo on this one."
Skizz: "Idk I watched it when I was very tired last night and all I remember is 'Awwweh a frog! Take care of him...WH- TANGO!!!' and also him apologizing to Gem which was very nice. Oh yeah and love island <3"
Jimmy: "Alright, Timmy, you've got this. Just don't die and- OMG MARTYN NOOOO LMAOO- Aweeeh it's like when you have a really young sibling or you're, like, a parent or something and you kiss the child's scraped knee to make it feel better- 🥺 wholesome. THANK YOU! I thought I was alone in recognizing that symbol, thank you for acknowledging it. JIMMY LOOK OUT OMG YOU'RE GONNA GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK! OK but the task. This man is an absolute menace lol. Aweh that's very nice of Scar to compliment Jimmy's outfit! SCOTT LMFAOOOO YOU'RE SO RIGHT, BUT AT THE SAME TIME 💀 Jimmy building in the Mesa? Tumble Town 2 electric boogaloo?? 'Hmmmm if Scar's building a shack, we're gonna have to have a shack-off, mine's better.' NO JIMMY DON'T STEAL THE CAMEL! D: pftttt Scar would- remember the Relation-ship? And the Ranch? Arson boy lol. THE VALLEY GIRL ACCENT I CAN'T- 😭"
Scar: "OK, Scar, you can do the task, I believe in you. I've seen 4 other POVs which prove that you failed, but I still believe in you. OMG THAT'S WHY HE COMPLIMENTED JIMMY'S OUTFIT LMAOOO I WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION- So true, Scott. So true. But you can't stop them, they're still gonna end up neighbors. I know, I already watched Jimmy's POV. SCAR NOOOO YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL THEM- The way he jumped in the water- 💀 hc that c!Scar shook out his long-ish messy brown hair like a dog after that. Cuz he would. 'I'll make an exception for you. The first and ONLY exception.' if someone doesn't use this as, like, a fanfic title or something I swear- literally perfect material for a c!Scarian fic title. AWEEEEEEH HE CALLED GRIAN THE LIGHT OF HIS LIFE- I CAN'T BHATGLFYSJBJSRSKBLBK 🥺 Scar just like 'y'all crazy. Bye.' AWEEEEH GRIAN AND SCAR'S CAMEL RIDE! DESERTDUODESERTDUODESERTDUODESERTDUO! The way they stare at the hole Big B dug like *insert surprised Pikachu here* awwwwweh the way he let Grian have the cactus monopoly 🥺 you will never not convince me that bullying is their love language. c!desertduo bullies each other affectionately...I'm so normal about c!desertduo I promise- HE TALKED ABOUT ASOKA FOR 30 MINUTES OFC HE DID- 💀😭 I was wondering why he didn't include it lmao- NOT SCAR TREATING THE CAMEL LIKE A DISNEY RIDE LOL learning about the task goodies with Tango, Jimmy, and Scar 101 'IS IT A ROCKET' LMAOOOOO- HE'S SUFFOCATING AGAIN- SCAR BE CAREFULLLLL!!! Ik it's not in the comments, but, I GOT TO THIS POINT AND I'M ENJOYING IT, SCAR! Love this series sm and I'm only 5 POVs in lol. 'It's looking kinda like a shack' 'fancy house and exotic materials' indeed, Etho. Also yes, Scar, part of what gave it away is that ur favorite color is orange lol /lh the fact that Jimmy is the only one I've seen to call him 'Obi' when he says 'Hello There'- amazing. 'Nonono it's not a shack, look at that entrance!' But, Scar, you just said- ...OK- 'this is my shack' OK, Scar I'm confused. Is it or isn't it a shack? Ofc he cut out the arson threats and allegations smh /lh 'until next time, we'll see you later, and don't forget to subscribe because you may just become. SCARRRRED FOR LIFE!' ...yes I've memorized his outro-"
Martyn: "Wait OK before we start- are we sure that punching Jimmy didn't just, like, transfer the canary's curse? /lh like it could also be that he won last series and now he's the 'wet cat' of the first episode like I saw in another post, but like, what if?? I guess we'll see, huh? The awkward 'goodbye' and then walking the same way lmaooo 💀 Lizzie and Gem: 'WE HAVE TO GET TO THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS!' Martyn: 'uhhhhh anyways so-' what am I gonna get? Well uhhh probably one of the life hoodies, but I'll probably have to convince my mom to get it as a Christmas gift cuz I already spent a lot in the last month cuz I have no self control- but yeah probably the balloon hearts hoodie or the drippy hearts one. Love those. 'Ofc no wearing helmets' Scar, who has a helmet: 'Hi, Martyn!' 'oh mY GOd you scared me-' Payback for the jumpscare to Grian last series /lh /hj 'friends?' 'friends?' 'friends?' 'Helloooooo!' 'Martyn!' Idk why but that interaction made me exhale like- just imagine shouting through the walls in a cave to your friends irl. Omg now I'm imagining it with the reverb- 'you couldn't spare a heart, could you?' gives off the vibes of 'please sir, could I have some more?' Oliver Twist who? /lhj Bdubs and his chainmail lol 'THERE'S A SPAWNER?!' yeah...he's definitely having a rough first session- o7 'what is happening out there-?' I'd like to know too, Martyn, unfortunately I haven't watched their POVs yet. Also Etho saying 'BDUBS RUN! HIDE!' I- I'm normal about c!Ethubs I promise- 'YOU GOT HORSE ARMOR?!' ofc the local horsegirl /lhhj would ask about that lol- NOT ETHO TURNING INTO CANADIAN DAVID ATTENBOROUGH AND NARRATING HIS, MARTYN'S, AND BDUBS' ADVENTURES THROUGH THE CAVE- I- 💀 'this could go viral' true, Bdubs lol. BDUBS' MIC CUTTING OUT I'M CRYING- Gem's reaction of 'a what?!' and Scott's response of 'we just don't have a healer' is just perfect lol. Love that. WE'RE PLAYING THE MARTYN GETS NERFED MOD! TODAY WE CODED IT SO ALL THE MOBS ATTACK MARTYN AND ONLY MARTYN! that's the vibes Scott's comment gave me lol- 12 HEARTS?!? MARTYN!! OMG BE MORE CAREFUL!!! This Martyn nerf hitting hard- 'this could be really bad if I get poisoned-' YES IT COULD, MARTYN, YOU'RE ALREADY AT 12 HEARTS- IT'S LIKE YOU'RE TRYING TO BE THE FIRST TO YELLOW- /lh bro Martyn being risky is making my anxiety go 📈📈📈📈📈 BE MORE CAREFUL, MARTYN, PLS- I BEG OF U- MARTYN GOING TO THE NETHER- 📈📈📈 MARTYN THERE ARE GHASTS- PLEASE- I- AAAAAAAAAAAAA! MARTYNNNN! OMG! IS HE ALWAYS THIS RISKY, USUAL MARTYN VIEWERS?! CUZ IF SO IDT I'M GONNA SURVIVE BINGING ALL THE LIFE SERIES- 'ughhh I swear, dude, I swear, I'm gonna cry!!!' I AM TOO, PLEASE STOP GETTING INTO DANGER, MARTYN- Martyn saying damnit is me the whole time he's out risking his hearts. My heart can't take this kind of pressure, Martyn please stop being so riskyyyy- 😭 nINE HEARTS- MARTYN!!!! Istg I'm not surviving this episode- my heart is just- 📈📈📈📈📈📈📈 his pICKAXE BROKE?! OH YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! 'OH MY GOD, THE SUN!' I'M HAPPY TOO, HOPEFULLY HE DOESN'T LOSE TOO MANY MORE HEARTS. 'I've been to the nether and everything!' Yeah, imma be honest, I don't get that one. Like, didn't you write a song lITERALLY CALLED 'Screw The Nether' with friends????! /lh Lizzie's 'oh wow' 💀 fIVE AND A HALF HEARTS!! MARTYNNNN!!! OMG! 📈📈📈 NOT THE DROWNED- 😭 LEAVE HIM ALONE, BRUH, HE JUST TRYNA SURVIVE- Martyn panicking- same, bestie- Lizzie just like 'oh you stole my bed? Didn't notice' 💀 #1 way to tempt a horsegirl: offer something to protect his horse /lhj Cleo's laugh lol- infectious. MARTYN ZOOMING IN AND JIMMY JUST BRINGING BACK SCAR'S CAMEL IN THE BACKGROUND I CAN'T-"
OK I'm posting this and I'll rb for the other POVs, but Cleo's next.
So let's see, next rb is probably gonna be Cleo, Gem, Tango, Scott, Bdubs, and Pearl.
Third rb is probably gonna be Etho, Joel, Lizzie, Impulse, and BigB.
3 maybe 4 rb max.
#YOOOO THANK GOD IT SAVED MOST OF THIS IN DRAFTS I CLICKED AWAY AND FORGOT TO SAVE I WAS ABOUT TO CRY-#tofs musings#my thoughts on the first session of Secret Life#secret life#secret life spoilers#trafficblr#traffic life smp#grian#mumbo jumbo#skizzleman#solidaritygaming#goodtimeswithscar#inthelittlewood#also the reason that some of them are way longer is cuz I'm writing them as I watch and not after the fact
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ok. a genuine question. how do u guys write 20-30k *chapters* bc i will outline fics minutely or i will just let myself start writing based off a vibe & either way i will get 600 words out of maybe. two hours of work. on a good day with no distractions/interruptions, & i very much do not have an uninterrupted two hours to write very often, so you can imagine how slowly things get written T_T so i’m interested if there’s any aspect of any of your writing processes that really enables u guys to write so much or if it’s not really something you think about? anyways i really like ur guys’s work, & thank you for deciding to write for byler bc i know me and a lot of people enjoy it a lot. thanks!!
hello !! this is a super valid question and i’ll try my best to answer it for you 😗✌️
andi infamously writes a lot faster than thea and i do (she finished draft 1 of chapter 3 in like. two days. which was so scary. i’m in awe of her fr) but she has also spent a lot of time editing ch3 so it’s definitely not like these chapters are publish-ready in a short amount of time by any means! it took thea a couple of months total to fully write + edit ch1 and it took me about 3.5 weeks to write ch2 and another two weeks to edit it which is part of the reason we’ve spaced out our posting schedule like we have — we put a lot of effort and care into these updates and we want to give ourselves as much time as possible to get ahead before all 3 of us inevitably get so super busy with work and/or school in the fall!! so while we do write a lot, please don’t think we are so insanely speedy about it because unless we are having Really Good Writing Days, that’s definitely not the case. sometimes we do have days where we are really in the zone and write more than usual, but at least for me, this is so so so rare. whatever i write in this time gets heavily edited because so much of it was nonsensical brain vomit LOL
as far as writing process goes, i think one of the things that motivates us a lot is that we genuinely do just talk about this au constantlyyyyy like we’re always coming up with silly little hcs or drawing for it or adding to the Lore ™️so we’re always getting inspired to write! all three of us are definitely people who use writing as a way to relax or even reward ourselves after a long day; we would probably die if we had to go too long unable to :/ messages like “i can’t wait to get home and write after work today” or “i’m going to write a little bit of ___ before bed because i deserve it” are very commonly found in our gc because we really just look forward to it so much! as for our scary word counts, i feel like there is a lot of worldbuilding in this universe specifically, and pacing is really important to us — we want to make sure introductions and set-up to a scene and character interactions are meaningful and flow naturally, and building tension (which is a hallmark of this fic hehe) does take some time, which can definitely add up word count-wise.
for the most part, none of us usually have a solid few hours to sit and write either (unless it’s on our days off or after work if we’re not too tired) and we get a lot of writing done in chunks! we hold each other accountable for short check-ins (“ask me for a snip in 30 minutes”) which is super helpful when you’re stuck, because it kind of forces you to get Something down without worrying if it’s super polished and edited and perfect. if you’re writing on your own, something i’ve started doing lately is setting a 15 minute timer and just seeing how much i can get done in that time, and then setting another and doing it again (up until however much time you have to write that day). i’ve found that the artificial deadline helps break the monotony of sitting in front of your computer for Hours on end with nothing to show for it bc TRUST we’ve all been there and it sucks so bad 😔✊
this got super long so i apologize but i hope at least a little bit of it was helpful! it definitely helps that we are constantly feeding into each other (i.e: having brainrot) and offering inspiration and advice, which does wonders for creative flow tbh. we’re definitely not cranking these chapters out as quickly as people might seem to think — thea started chapter four, which won’t be posted for about a month, maybe a week or two ago. i just started chapter 5 — about 6 weeks away — yesterday lol so we do take our time! don’t be scared by the giant chapters, we just had a lot of content we wanted to include in each one and are in too deep to take anything out 🥳🥳 thank you for the question! good luck with your writing we believe in you 🫡
#suni talk about our writing process in a succinct manner challenge#i love these questions#unfortunately the answer to most of them is that we’re insane#we take so much time writing and then editing these so don’t be fooled!#as u can tell by this giant response#we just have shit to say.#asks
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GOOD MORNING (afternoon actually) time for more she-ra
(I actually started this episode last night lol but wasn't able to finish it)
s5 ep3 corridors
oh this episodes starts with the intro instead of an open. okay.
nnnoooooo
Not only do Catra's ears do a little twitch but it makes a really adorable noise????
Also I just looked at my fic to make sure I mention that Catra's eyes glow a little and got distracted rereading my own porn lolol but yes I did already edit that into a scene
man I feel sad for both of them here. they're both just little kids--with like, zero good role models :(
poor babies
anyway, nice segue
oh those lights are explosions. oh. :(
would you like some heavy-handed but appropriate symbolism
but also the clones are basically stalking her every move, and she runs into the clone that's actually Hordak
I wanted to get a screenshot of her smoothing down her hair and accidentally got whatever this is lol
but yeah Hordak is like "I don't know what you're talking about. anyway go away."
LOL
The ship shuts down and stops in space which is really funny because THAT'S NOT HOW SPACE WORKS unless you're fighting the gravity of a nearby planet or star or something you should maintain your speed forever
but whatever, fantasy universe, plot, etc.
awwwww Catra and Glimmer are talking again. Their banter is so easy to read as flirtatious, too.
It is a struggle not to screenshot every single facial expression they make during this scene.
...Also, I should read my friend's Glitra fics.
THEY'RE SO CUTE
Glimmer mentions specifically raiding the kitchen for cake enough times that I'm 99% sure I subconsciously remembered it when I wrote that short fic that includes it considering I wrote/posted it before I got to any of the mentions of it in my re-watch.
She even mentions eating it with her hands and here I thought it might be weird that I put it in the story lolol
I forgot entire huge portions of plot but remembered Glimmer likes to sneak into the kitchen to eat cake with her hands.
(they're talking about sleepovers)
UGH THIS SCENE IS SO GOOD also the look on Catra's face while she talks about Adora during happier times 🥺
SHIT Daci came upstairs okay I gotta finish this tomorrow
it is now tomorrow :D
don't mind me gonna rewatch this whole scene because it's so painfully sweet
OH ALSO one of the things that's good to note for myself later (re: character stuff) is that Catra is still a little shit here. She opens the conversation by taunting Glimmer about her failed attempts at escape, and when Glimmer pushes back she initially starts to leave.
So yeah. She's always still a bit of a brat.
ALSO I want to note that part of the reason they're willing to tolerate each other at all is that, at this point in the plot, they've both done Pretty Bad Shit. Whether it's the same amount of bad shit is a matter of debate, but Glimmer feels horribly guilty for trying to use the Heart of Etheria and allowing Horde Prime to find them--she's even the reason Catra is on the ship. So they're sort of equals at this point. I don't think Glimmer would be friendly to Catra to quite the same extent if she didn't have that hanging over her. I could be wrong though.
But also yeah they're still very similar people.
look at how soft she is ;_;
but yeah Glimmer's talking here, and oof, look at Catra
do you also have some regrets bb
;_;
and then she gets up and walks off without a word to Glimmer
lol the claws on the wall, absent-mindedly. I know why she's doing that--the urge to leave a mark, however minor--"I was here"--to be even the tiniest thorn in the side of an enemy that unfathomably powerful.
another allusion to Christianity
they went for (synthesized) Gregorian chanting here instead of the organ
oh no it's that fucked-up baptism thing D:
(true story: a lot of churches are willing to baptize you more than once, especially if they're weirdoes and don't think other churches' baptisms count. The Episcopal Church, like most mainline protestant denominations, won't re-baptize you--if your previous baptism was done with the Trinitarian formula ("Father, Son, and Holy Spirit") it counts. This actually gets tricky if you were baptized as a Mormon, because they do use the Trinitarian formula, but they mean entirely different things by it! In some parts of the country you'll get rebaptized, in others you won't. Sometimes they'll do what's called a conditional baptism, where they literally say "If you are not baptized, [name], I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Like. They insert a "just in case" clause. They also do this for people who just do not know if they were baptized--like if you can't ask your parents whether you were baptized as a baby because they're dead/no-contact. Anyway I was seven when I got baptized, so I remember it, which is nice; but I did text my mom about it when I was about to get confirmed and it turned out she'd kept my baptismal certificate all these years?!)
I don't know if they were going for The Meme this time--I don't think so? it's just a good way to frame this scene? --but I cannot unsee it
oof it must hurt to admit that, but also, it must be a bit of a relief to actually GENUINELY NOT KNOW and be unable to give away anything
"And yet you seek to protect her" dude has her number that's a fact
oh god he tells her to get info from Glimmer D:
"If I could tell you where Adora is I would! She's my enemy! I want her gone!" oh baby you're so convinced
at this point in the plot I'm not entirely sure he's wrong, but of course he misunderstands why it's a bad thing and the solution to it
(I get that a sprinkle of water on your head is a totally valid baptism but also I think more mainline churches should have full-immersion options bc I just think it makes sense from a symbolism standpoint. I know some mainline churches will allow you to do it if you're an adult getting baptized. Depends on the church/clergy.)
ANYWAY real glad that baptismal fonts/pools aren't electrified
And yes bringing Catra there was a threat
And Catra brings Glimmer cake
aww
hm
she could have stood looming over Glimmer here. Instead she's literally on her knees and holding Glimmer's other hand. She doesn't want to intimidate Glimmer into giving her information. She wants Glimmer to kNOW.
Glimmer drops the cake.
I'm gonna chew my fingers off aaaaugh
I'VE HIT THE IMAGE LIMIT i knew I would and I'm only halfway through the episode hold on
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i rlly want to write longer fics but i can never get past the first 1k words no matter what 😶 how TF do you write up to 30,000+???? pkease im DYING
This is a question I often battle with myself and it's one without an universal answer, imo. I can offer you advice that has worked for me, but you'll have to administer it following your own habits!
I’m putting this post under a readmore because it ended up being fairly long. (Tips, resources, links and book recs below cut)
In the throes of intensive fixation, I managed to write Catafalque's 32k in about ~2 months. But I think it's important to be clear here: 2 months of active, every day writing, even when I was feeling kind of meh about it, and I had already spent the previous November thinking about a lot of the themes / scenes / structure of the fic before I got to the writing part itself. I was also helped plenty by the fact that the fic is borrowing time locked events from Arcane's canon, and I knew exactly how things would play out for these characters ahead of time, meaning, I could explore alternate possibilities without a lot of stuff bogging me down. Readers would know what I was talking about by implication! I can just go on and on about feelings and abstract concepts and it's fine!
Compare it to my latest fic though (’Meat gets caught’) which sits at a hefty 6k, but also took… about 2 months of flubbing in the backburner, LOL. The Idealization period for this fic was considerably larger for a Way Smaller Output, since I was juggling characters people are mostly unfamiliar with, events they had no baseline for, and establishing a set character dynamic that is clear to me, but not to others, all in very a short allocation of paragraphs.
Now here's what I mean by the above: There is no standard speed to writing, and you should be aware that the process Will Be Different from author to author *and* project to project. It is a fallacy to believe success follows only one mold.
Ideally, you should stop thinking about big numbers altogether. Focus on the NOW. You want to finish a story you think might be kinda long, but you lose steam when trying to write aaaaaall that bullshit? ok then here's tip number 1 --
1) Just write 300 words a day. Every day. Make it a hardset goal, and avoid skipping this daily exercise as much as possible.
300 words a day for 30 days = 9000 words, easy. The objective here is giving you a task that can be completed without a daily headache. Maybe your minimum can be 200 words, if you prefer - so long as you write them. Pick a frequent or comfortable timeslot to do it, and make this a routine. Focus on finishing scenes, finishing a chapter, finishing whatever section you're already on. Keep going until you reach the end of your story.
You can edit it tomorrow, or when you're closer to completion. (I do a lot of fiddling with my words! I'll often edit my stories dozens of times, more if you're counting section rewrites or re-arranging paragraphs. Editing is your friend. Wait a little bit to see where you've messed up though. Fresh text is tricky.)
The good thing about setting this bar low, is that if you can only write your minimum of the day, that's perfectly fine. Close the doc and let it rest. But just the act of starting and working on the thing by itself is a surprisingly potent battery - there's days where i find a good rhythm for things and end up hammering a whole 1k, since my hands are already on the keyboard.
Tip #2, following on the footsteps of the above:
2) Use a different font color for each day. Make your progress actually *visible* while you're composing the document.
This can be as simple as alternating between black and dark blue to keep it non-distracting. (You can use other, crazier colors if you're into it though!) It's immediately rewarding to be able to scroll back through what I've already written and see that organic growth - days I wrote little, days I wrote a lot, how the text is still changing and being affected by what i do. I have an issue with abstract goals, I *like* being able to see how much progress I've made, and it gets me hyped to pinch in a little more.
3) EDITING IS YOUR FRIEND.
first drafts look and read like gummed up garbage. You should give imperfections a license to exist.
That's ideal! Don't be discouraged. Trust that you can come back and fix things when you have a better grasp of the whole piece. You can always edit it later. Remember: Polishing your text with time is not a bug - it's a feature.
4) BE FUCKING INDULGENT.
Writing is an inherently embarrassing act. This is self explanatory. Now, since you’re already there, just make the most of it.
If you’re really on the path towards a long con of a plot, make sure to sprinkle in gifts for yourself. Write about something you enjoy. Put in details that make you laugh. Make your characters go on your own big wubbyland adventure. ‘writing for an audience’ instead of for yourself can quickly kill the enjoyment (and drive) of anything.
5) Lost or confused? Think of your INTENT, FORM, and STRUCTURE.
I can't remember the last thing I wrote without an outline to guide me as the months wore on. I think it is deeply important to write down somewhere accessible, somewhere you can look back on:
What is the intent of this story? What am I trying to say?
This is a little cheat just for yourself, so you stay on topic. And you can broaden that question with a few more qualifiers if you like:
What is the sequence of events? What *themes* am I trying to convey? What are the major beats/ scenes/ actions taken? Can you break it down into a clean list of bullet points, one for each step of the story? that might help you a LOT. More than you'd think. If you find that helps you - make it a checklist. Make every little turn of the story into a micro goal that can be reached through narrative, and go ticking off the boxes until you’ve covered the whole thing.
You can even make this into a dedicated planning document by itself, put your themes, keywords, and bullet point outline all in one place. So when you're in the process of writing and your mind goes a little blank, all the refreshing elements are saved up nicely somewhere. Feel free to cheat.
...So that's INTENT and FORM -- what about STRUCTURE?
Mary Robinette Kowal did this great explainer on the structure of short stories and how to plan them, and the ideas she introduces here can be used to write fiction of *any* length. I highly recommend giving it a listen. If you're not used to thinking about story structure, this can be very clarifying! And if that's already something you worry about, the formula she provides is a great starting point to baking your own sourdough.
Structure is a broad subject depending on the specifics of your fiction, and this is where we begin to run into things like ‘Genre’ and ‘Point of View’ and the rubric stretches really wide.
When in doubt about structure (and genre), my rule of thumb is always:
1) Find something similar to what I’m trying to do
(what are things similar to this? what are the most popular examples of this? how were these things written, to express those ideas?)
2) Read up to see how they do it
(separate the stories into their barest components - how are the events presented? How is style used? How are characters developed -- what pushes characters into developing? What are the recurring themes? What connects this fiction into a cohesive, recognizable whole?)
3) Try to apply whatever notes I took from above ^^^^ into my own project
This might be obvious, but ‘questioning my story’ or ‘questioning my characters’ is usually how I begin developing all of my writing. You might be more attracted to another method! (and that’s okay) but this is the stuff I can offer.
More vaguely useful resources on structure/plotting or literary theory;
Ellen Brock’s (Novel Editor) Advanced Story Structure series
‘Monkeys with Typewriters’ by Scarlett Thomas (book)
‘Steering The Craft’ by Ursula K. Le Guin (book)
‘Story Genius’ by Lisa Cron (book)
If you read through *just* the intro of some of those you’ll notice that they all have very different takes on these topics (and some may even contradict the others,) which is what I think makes for the best path to self-discovery. Explore different stuff, test it out, throw it away if it doesn’t work etc. And while I can’t post direct links here lets just say these are all. ummmm. Very Findable in the internet! Get an epub reader. Highlight a bit.
now that structure is over and done with, let’s move onto my last tip:
6) Seriously reconsider the size of your story.
A lot of people really don’t like being told this, but someone has to do it.
You’ll notice that a lot of my above advice (and resources,) errs on the side of assuming you want to write something at least as long as a 200-300 page novel. I can’t really blame them, since that’s just the state of the industry and ‘what sells’, and these ideas are so prominent they have transferred to nonprofit hobby spaces to the point people tend to think that bigger IS better -- but consider, maybe it isn’t.
Maybe the story you’re trying to tell can be condensed into a 15k word oneshot.
Maybe you can *actually* get it done if it’s a collection of important character-related scenes split into 3 chapters, instead of a whopping 50.
Maybe the concept eluding you thus far can become stronger if you let go of the preconception that it needs to be a drawn-out epic, and just write it as a potent roller-coaster ride that ends before the hour is up.
I’m not saying you need to undo all the work you’ve already done - but consider the whole! Making the scope of your writing smaller works on your favor. Unless you have a natural knack for it, I really, really wouldn’t recommend making your first serious attempt at longform writing a 100,000 word behemoth. ‘Done’, as a goal, is immediately more achievable than ‘Perfect’!
You can get a lot of mileage out of short stories and oneshots, and it can be more satisfying for you, as a writer, to complete whole projects in a realistic timeframe.
anyway. Maybe this will help you, or maybe it won’t. But in any case: I wish you the best of luck in this journey and I hope you can find what works best for you!!!
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3, 8, 16, and 27 for the writer’s asks! 💖
Hi! Thank you!
3. how you feel about your current WIP
Depending on how actively you define WIP, I have between 3 and 5 stories that count as true active WIPs.
I'm writing a thing about Nora studying in Italy and being visited by Rebecca & crew that I just need a bit more time to work on and I think I'll really be in a flow!
I've got a Keeley/Ted-centric story that I've been actively thinking about since last September so I have so many weird 3D life memories of thinking about this fic in different places and I feel anxious about whether the actual in-docs version of this story could live up to it.
I've got the third installment of Boy-Crazy Rebecca going and it has been frustrating but I had a realization that what I'd been thinking of as two separate stories (three and four in the series) needed to be combined into one, with the plot of "story four" as a framing device for story three. So I have hope again lol.
And the other two are kind of non-things right now, barely what you could call paragraph form.
8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…
I won't cheat and just say the sequel that I'm already writing. I think I'd enjoy writing sequels to anticipate or salt, although I don't have any plans to.
16. favorite place to write
My writing desk! Looking out at my front yard and getting distracted by people and dogs walking by. Usually with a scented candle burning. I try to keep that desk to be a spot only for creating things and communicating with people, so it's an incredibly happy place for me.
27. your favorite part of the writing process
I love the very beginning, when all the glittery ideas/vibes/intentions are at the forefront of my mind and I haven't gotten bogged down by anything yet. And I love the point approaching the end but not yet having to deal with things like the final line or the title. If I'm working with a beta/editor, that point when I've gotten their comments back and have hope that I'll be able to finish the story. Or if I'm working solo and self-editing only, that point when I start to taste the end and feel motivated to write more quickly.
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I swear this fandom is becoming more and more insufferable every day which is scary not to mention it's at least one more year of wait until season 2. I don't want even to imagine what it's going to be like when it actually airs. I've been in other fandoms, including the GoT one, but this level of toxicity, aggression, tribalism and hypocrisy is unreachable. What is with this show that encourages such behaviour? I really don't understand. I used to be team green (I still am kind of) during the show, especially the second half and after the show ended because I hated the way many black stans were acting towards anyone who didn't share their opinions and the way they talked about green characters (and even the actors) in general. Also, the framing of the show with it's good vs bad guys concept was annoying af so it wasn't hard to choose TG, at least to me. However, now I'm not even sure I care enough. It's so difficult to discuss anything show related normally and nust because all this toxicity soured the whole hotd experience to me now I'm more than anything team anti hotd fandom. That's why your fic is literally the last hotd related thing I'm looking forward to so atm so thank you for actually giving something good to this wretched fandom 😩. Seriously, Aemond and Rhaena should follow my example and just be done with everyone and everything lol. Anyway, I'm (not so😁) patiently waiting for the next update. I don't know anymore if I'll watch season 2, but I'll definitely read swhhw.
I get you. At large, it's not a fun fandom to be in. I remember when there was a petition to stop Matt Smith from being Dr Who on the grounds of him being too ugly, so in a sense it's a little amusing to see how he's inspired this whole "Choke me daddy" rabid fanbase... But other than that, it's really not much fun. People take everything as fighting words. They're attacking real people to defend fictional characters written by a man who hasn't even finished his series as yet after a decade long hiatus...
I don't even get the joy of reading other fics really, because I try to reduce the odds on me 'stealing' someone else's fic idea. Like, I know fair is fair and it's all fanworks, but I'll literally read something, go to sleep, incept myself, and wake up like "you know what would be really cool???" and it's only when I'm reading it all over that I'll realize that I've split off on a whole different unrelated tangent and have to course correct. I'm trying to write better and faster and cut down on how distracted I get. For example, writing while commuting feels productive but it really isn't, not how I do it. I get so distracted... I'll be editing and realize, "No, you can't write that. That's a line from a Hozier song."
HotD doesn't deserve the time or the energy. Like, I look at the word count of swhhw and question all my life decisions. But the rhaemond fandom is so nice and so small, you can't help it. It's like an oasis in a radioactive wasteland.
I'm also kinda doing it for Team Dyslexia and Team Dysgraphia in a sort of "We can do it!" way?
I really want to finish this before S2 starts.
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🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?
🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis
🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?
🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before
🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?
🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings
🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?
🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now
📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?
🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character
🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?
🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on
❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?
🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity
🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh
🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?
🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate
🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told?
🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately
🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?
🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing
🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?
🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here
☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?
🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them
🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them
🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it
🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?
Hi hi thank you so much for all the emojis!! 🥰
🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?
Pffftt well, I've been "editing" my book for the past two years, so..... Joking aside, I would probably give it a solid 8. Nothing is as good as seeing all the hard work you've put in and then just giving it that extra little cherry on top!
Now, if you're asking me about spelling and grammar editing.... Don't.
🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis
🧛♂️🗡📓👻🏳️🌈
🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?
I've never written a reader insert but now yall got me thinking 😅
🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before
I have this weird thing where everyone thinks I look like someone else, and it's caused some pretty hilarious phenomenons. One time at the airport, a kid started screaming and crying because I waved at them. I still, to this day, have absolutely no idea who they thought I was ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?
So I have this fun little thing called ADHD...... But yeah, honestly, I'm incredibly chaotic, and while trying to keep up with the real-life stuff and all the distracting stuff and all the projects I got going...... Yeah, that's why I'm typically up until 2 am writing lol
🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings
Yay another one!!!
Zukka (Avatar: The Last Airbender)
Anytime Hakoda takes Sokka for some father-son bonding time, Sokka relentlessly insists Zuko come along. Zuko and Hakoda think he's just being a clingy boyfriend, but he just wants to show Zuko that he is deserving of love from a father figure and that Iroh isn't just doing it out of guilt.
(In turn, Iroh tags along from time to time, and their trips quickly go from family bonding to a dad joke battle)
🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?
Literally just come say hi!! I swear, contrary to popular lore, I don't bite!
🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now
I'm very lucky. Everyone in my family is doing great. Having this great opportunity to finish and publish my book. And I have great, supporting and loving friends 🖤
📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?
"He was just one of this like shitty guitar players in a shitty band."
"And?"
"And he was in a punk band, and I did graffiti. Can I make it more obvious?"
🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character
I never finished Stranger Things' first season, I don't know that I even got through the first five episodes. I was so bored the whole time.
Bonus hot take; I had the exact opposite problem with The Walking Dead. Around season five, I got really bored.
🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?
Guys, go Google New England Vampire Panic. Very interesting to read about, and also a good band name if you're from New England!
🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on
Even if you absolutely suck at it, if it's something you love, do it with all the confidence in the world, and you'll find your place.
+ Nobody's as confident as they claim. It's all a production. Fake it 'til you make it, but don't sell your soul over it.
❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?
So I've recently gotten into Baldur's Gate, and I just really fucking need Gale and Astarion on like a buddy cop mission where it's just absolute clown to clown communication. Gale being his waxing poetic self, and Astarion is far too emo and far too gay for this shit.
I don't know! I'm willing to bully all my friends until one of them picks it up or I just do it myself lol
🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity
Don't force it. If it's not coming to you take a break don't chase it! You'll only wear yourself out and hate what you did write.
Rome wasn't built in a day, but it sure burnt down in one. Remember that.
🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh
Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?
🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?
Very specifically, "You're evil"
Muahahahahaha 😈
🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate
Oh man, I don't think there's absolutely anything redeemable about that woman.
1.) Uhh, when she shuts up, she's cute ig.
2.) She's fun to write because I don't get to be pure evil a lot.
3.)................... She's kinda the gateway to one of my favorite characters?? 👀
🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told?
Here's a fun little fact about me, I'm brutally honest sometimes to the point of offense 😅 and I don't ever really have a need to lie.
That being said, I love randomly lying to strangers for literally no reason. Just recently, someone was being rude and interrupted my dinner with my family, so when they asked what I did for a living, I gave them a very detailed description of how I work in a morgue. I've never worked in a morgue a day in my life lol but it got them to leave me alone.
🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately
Man, this might be too deep for tumblr, but it's that time of year again when I can't stop thinking about death and all that good stuff. I'll spare you guys the gritty details, though.
🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here
"Look, when I moved out here, I got a mess in Oakland waiting for me, okay? My friend got all this shit and fucked this guy over and this crazy motherfucker showed up ate half my burger and killed a fucking guy. When the boss showed up, told me to get his wife outta there, I did and I ain't never been back. I got know idea what's waiting there for me."
"Hm, that's unfortunate," I crossed my arms, "Especially 'cause I watched it happen in Pulp Fiction with you last night!"
"Goddamn it."
☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?
So I answered the username part over here, so I'm going to answer about my pen name now!
I actually changed my pen name fairly recently to Gabryél Grimm-Goretz. Gabryél is actually part of my legal name 😅 and so I thought it would be cool to use it because i never get to use it day to day. I went with Grimm-Goretz to kinda represent my family and heritage in a way while also leaning into how my writing is typically grim and gory.
🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them
Whelp, we've got a nice handful of followers over here now, and unfortunately, I can't tag everyone. BUT I want to tell you all that you are appreciated. You are talented, and you are loved! Never let anyone tell you you're not good enough 'cause they're no better 🖤
🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them
Right here! uwu
🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it
I'm gonna be a little bit of a punk ass and tag myself here lol Link link link
I did this piece last year in celebration of one of my favorite band's new albums, and yeah! I just love it. It came out so good.
🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?
When a narrator is like, "She smiled tit-ly, so deeply that her large pendulum breasts heaved, then jiggled tightly into her pink, completely see-through lace bra. Her breasts were no doubt expressing their own excitement." 🙄
For you 😌💞
#okay maybe thats a fucked up meme BUT I LOVE YOU ITS FINE#gabyrels grumbles#gaybi answers things#writeblr#writerscommunity#writerslife#writers#writers on tumblr#writerscorner#writing#writblr#writer things#book blog#miss may i
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Which fics are your pride and joy? And why might they stand out more to you and your other writings?
The Bill & Frank AU and Bigfoot 1.5 are the ones im most proud of.
Mostly because I think they're the best things I've written, but also the process of writing them was really engaging for different reasons. I could tell when I was writing them that they were, i guess, important? If only to me, but still.
Bigfoot 1.5 was a labor. I started and stopped it over and over again and changed the format of it repeatedly. It was hard to write every step of the way and by the time I posted it I was sure it was awful but then when I finally summoned the courage to read it outside of the fog of editing I realized I loved it. And I learned a lot. It was really the first time writing something felt actually hard. But it was also the first time writing something where i felt like I absolutely needed to finish it no matter what. And even just the fact of finishing something that gave me that much trouble, even if I didnt wind up loving it, was a big moment for me.
The Bill & Frank AU was not hard to write, almost at all. It took a long time because it's just twice as long as anything else I've written and because I edited and polished it a lot throughout the process. But when I was actively writing it it mostly felt like it was writing itself (probably largely due to the fact that I had the episode to use as an outline for pacing etc.) But I just wanted to write it so bad and it was fun from the beginning, like I feel like I know everything about that universe because all of it wrote itself so clearly in my brain.
(I am also extremely attached to the Nancy/Barb prequel to the Bill & Frank AU because i love that universe so much an this fic only has 28 kudos and i feel like it deserves more than that! not for me, for them! for nancy and barb! like this is my child who doesnt have any friends and I will fight anybody who doesnt like them lol)
The only time I got hung up writing the Bill & Frank AU was at the sex scene just trying to figure out what it should be. It's a fade to black in the episode, and it happens so early in the story it's not really a climactic moment so much as a shift, so it didnt make sense to have it be like a full-on smut scene, i think that would have been distracting? But I was also like, these are middle aged women and it was important to me to not de-sexualize them because that's kind of a thing you know? I wanted it to be clear that these old ladies fuck, lol.
But that story was a lot more plot/genre than usually creeps into my stories. Mostly I just write the leadup to kissing, and that story had like action and whole lifetimes baked into it, and I was surprised by how much I loved writing it.
thank you for this ask this was really fun to answer! 🫘❤️🫘
#sweepystringvibes#asks#ronance#writing#you can tell when im writing something good because i get obsessed with it and talk about it constantly#unfortunately i am not obsessed with anything i am currently writing lol
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Tag Game- Current
Yo, so I got tagged by both @bunana-pancakes and @noodle-artist, thanks so much the both of you! Both of them have great artwork, do check those out!
Current time: 9:56pm Pacific Standard Time when I started this
Current activity: Watching a friend streaming the game Chameleon Twist 2
Currently thinking about: Oh gosh so many fandom events in the fall how I'll balance them all lol
Current favorite song: Bishop Briggs, Jekyll and Hyde.
Currently reading: Haven't been reading anything as of late, though the last thing I read were some fics from Dimileth Garden Gala and FE Engage Ship Exchange.
Currently Watching: Critical Role, which I'm a couple episodes behind and probably will switch to podcast version instead. I also recently finished watching Persona 5: The Animation.
Current Favorite Character: Alfred from FE Engage, he's been taking my brain space atm lol. Having finished Persona 5 Royal and watching a friend streaming Strikers, Yusuke comes a close second lol.
Current work in progress: My Lord of the Rings AU for Dimileth Goggles. Also plan to get back to The Azure Queen now that it has been announced Dimileth Trick or Treat is coming back. I have the draft of the rest of The Azure Queen finished, just need to make time for editing (got distracted with other fics and Persona 5 Royal lol).
Tagging: (no pressure!) @slam-dunkrai, @sweet-suzume, @write-the-stars, @silversdragonemporium, and anyone else that wants to do this!
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Chasing Tails Chapter Three: Trees and...
AO3 Link; fanfiction.net link ; Chapter 1 on here (you can find the “back of the book”-type summary here or at one of the other links)
Chapter Summary: Natsu finds a tree. Nashi finds Natsu. (Happy voice) And then...!
Author’s Notes:
First and foremost: Chapter 3 took forever for me to publish. Oops.
I genuinely expected zero people to read this, so when it actually got some hits, and I even got kudos, comments, reviews, reblogs, likes, and favorites (Thanks so much! You have no idea how much you guys helped!) I had an, “oh, shit” moment where I realized I actually care about making this story halfway decent. A lot of the work I did went to outlining and research (even though most of the research will be blatantly ignored lol). I hope it will pay off and allow me to publish chapters more frequently, but I have also been busy.
NOW. onto notes that are actually important to the story:
Initially, Layla’s earthbound last name was “Turner.” It was supposed to be her last foster family’s surname. However, I edited and changed it to O’Neil because I realized that made more sense. Sorry for any confusion. I went back and edited a couple other details, too, but nothing too big.
For anyone waiting for smut/lemons, I’m going to try to label chapters with lemons (at least on AO3). We’ll see how that goes. Nothing this chapter.
*Content Warnings:
Almost everything to do with Nashi’s upbringing on Our Earth is a very inaccurate portrayal of CPS, foster care, and the police. I didn’t bother doing deep research on those things because it’s only vaguely relevant to most of the story. Please criticize cops and the failings of the foster care system, just not on the basis of this fic.
Also: Drug & Alcohol abuse mentions; swearing; graphic violence; nausea & puke mentions; ignorant ableism (mostly by Nashi/Layla, whose top personality trait ATM is “just wrong” but still); bullying mentions; death mentions (not any OC’s); discussions of sex.
tbh, most of that’s gonna be standard fare for this fic.
*Tumblr-Specific Tip: I recommend scrolling to the bottom and reading the footnotes first. That way, you won’t need to scroll all over the place. I listed them all with context for this specific purpose.*
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“This tree is talkin’ to me!” […] “Yes, Great Tree!” - Natsu’s line, Episode 76, English dub [~2:45]
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“Oi, Mad Cow! If you don’t quit whining and drive faster, I’ll break your damn neck! You hear me?!”
The thick throat bobbed under Natsu’s forearm in response to the growled threat. “Y-yes,” came the hoarse choke. “But…it’s Mad Bull, not—“
“Like I care!” Natsu snarled, managing to hide his vehicular distress behind a scowl he fixed on the little mirror the big bastard’s eyes kept darting to. Sweat crawled down his temples.
It had taken mere minutes for his despair to burn into rage after Nashi left—and it didn’t even happen because of how badly their reunion had gone. The guy Nashi had just finished thrashing had been holding a weird-looking Mini-Comm to his ear as exited the same door she had, too distracted by his conversation to notice the pink-haired man curled wallowing on the ground amidst a scattering of untouched bills.
Natsu would barely have noticed him, either—if he hadn’t caught part of the asshole’s side of the conversation:
“—think I tried that?! The little freak was gone by the time I could sneak into the—yes, I’m fucking sure! How the hell could I miss her pink hair?!”
Natsu had stilled on the ground.
“—sure that’s the little bitch’s apartment building?…Well, whatever…don’t need an exact address, I’ll kick down every door in the damn place till she comes out if I have to, and make sure that whore regrets the day she ever—ARGGHH!”
The hulking man had bellowed in pain as he staggered from the Dragon Slayer’s sucker punch. His weird Min-Comm skidded across the ground, going totally silent as it audibly cracked against the ground.
“YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT, ASSHOLE!” the big man shouted, lunging.
Despite the brand new wave of near-paralyzing vertigo, it had been easy for Natsu to take him down. First, because the loser really was a huge waste of size and strength. Second, because of the rage which had driven him to his feet.
The world had both seared red and spun around him. In the back of his mind, he noted that the dizziness was almost definitely at least partly due to the fact that his fire was trying and failing to rise to the surface. Every attempt at using his Magic in this world, so far, had resulted in shattering dizziness. He didn’t worry about it too much. He wouldn’t have been able to control his Magic, anyway—not when he was this pissed.
After easily slamming the man to the ground, Natsu yanked the bastard’s arm across his back until it trembled on the verge of breaking or (even more likely) dislocating.
“I know I didn’t just hear you call my daughter a whore, you bastard!” he’d hissed, pulling the massive arm an inch further back, barely refraining from ripping it off.
“D-daughter!? You’re—?”
“SHUT UP!”
Natsu had garroted the freak’s throat with his free arm and chuckled darkly when he spluttered and gagged. He’d thought quickly, fighting his ongoing dizziness for clarity.
“Right. You’re going to take me to Nashi’s apartment. Now! Then you’ll get lost and stay lost, you got it?!”
“N-Nashi? Who the fuck—?”
“THE GIRL YOU WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT, MORON!”
He’d been forced to accept a car ride—very reluctantly, giving in only when Mad Cow had spluttered that it would take them hours to walk to Nashi’s building.
Now, sitting in a moving car yet retaining the wherewithal to keep the guy’s throat locked under his arm from the back seat, he remained as creeped out as he’d been at the beginning of the journey. He’d always thought it would be awesome if he could ride in a vehicle without getting sick, that Wendy was basically a miracle-worker whenever she used Troia to help him out.
Now, under these circumstances, with his heightened senses stolen from him—Natsu found himself disturbed as hell by his ability to keep his wits in a dreaded moving Magical Vehicle.
It made an awful kind of sense, though. Whatever this world did to Magic sucked so much out of you, Dragon Slayers even had their motion sickness reduced. Maybe to the point they didn’t have it at all, eventually, if Nashi’s ability to ride a Magicycle was anything to go by.
In any case, Natsu’s nausea was still pretty bad—but not so bad he had to let go of Mad Cow, which was good because the asshole had already tried to attack him once, when Natsu was reluctantly oozing into the car. The bastard paid for it with a head slam that created a small crack in his Magical Vehicle’s window. As satisfying as his scream of pain and frustration had been, it had tested Natsu’s already overtaxed temper. He couldn’t hurt the guy badly enough that he couldn’t take Natsu where he needed to go, but boy did he want to.
Sweat slithered down his face, stomach rocking persistently, but he managed to hide his strain until the car finally swished and jerked to a halt across the road from a medium-tall, crummy building. With a trembling, meaty hand, Mad Cow pushed the stick he’d been holding forward between the two front seats then quickly lifted his hands like a robber.
“W-we’re here…” he sniveled.
Natsu glanced around, eyes narrowing as they briefly latched onto the Magicycle gleaming under a street lamp before returning to meet Mad Cow’s beady gaze in the little mirror. “Right.” He pulled his arm tighter against the thick throat, relishing the distressed-sounding gargles he got in response and the way a Vulcan-ish hand started clawing uselessly at his arm. “If you even think of laying a hand on my daughter again, I’ll flay you alive! You got that?!”
Natsu had to let up on Mad Cow’s throat just enough to hear the wheezed affirmative, wishing badly that he had his fire so he could brand this freak with the threat. There was something in the way those dark eyes gleamed and darted around that he didn’t trust.
But he didn’t have the option, and his stomach was rocking violently. The lump on Mad Cow’s head and the crack in his Magical Vehicle’s window would have to suffice. If he got any ideas about trying something, Natsu would be nearby to protect her, anyway.
“Good!” For the first time in living memory, Natsu was able to stagger right out of a Magical Vehicle and stay standing, albeit by the skin of his damn teeth. He scowled after the car as threateningly as he could as it roared away. Only after it had screeched around a corner did the Dragon Slayer double over to groan in agony.
After recovering, he stared up at the apartment building for a minute, somber and contemplative. So. This was where his daughter lived. Angry shouting emanated from broken windows, slurry arguments, violent threats, and the sounds of loud sex layered over each other. A man puked on the cracked bricks of the building’s side. From the dark alley of the other side, a pair of shiny eyes stared at him unblinkingly.
Lucy would have blown her top if she found out their daughter had been living in a place like this. Natsu couldn’t say the looks of the place was doing his blood pressure any favors, either.
Noting the location of the building, he’d hobbled off in search of food. As reluctant as he was to lose walk away from where Nashi was, passing out from hunger wasn’t going to help either of them. Fortunately, he’d thought to grab the money Nashi threw on the ground and shove it in his pocket just before ordering Mad Cow to make sure his Magic Vehicle didn’t shake too much. An order which had made the bastard splutter excuses about how “that was impossible!” and which he had not obeyed.
Natsu panicked slightly when he realized everything Nashi had given him only a couple hundred jewel-things. But when he found an open food stand (with wheels?! What sick bastard combined something so beloved with something so terrible?!) he sighed in relief upon reading the low prices. Jewel-whatevers went further here, obviously.
He proceeded to cheerfully order all the spiciest things on the menu until he was out of money. He wished it was Lucy or Mira’s cooking—and that it came with his usual side of fire, but the food was tasty enough. Nothing could could clear his head or perk him up like good grub. He felt much better as he hobbled away from the wheeled food stand, waving back at the beaming (and oddly weeping?) family talking excitedly in a language he didn’t understand.
Still, being clearheaded wasn’t as much fun as usual, at the moment. He brooded as he ambled back to the dumpy building, the truth sinking in like a rock in a pond.
Nashi didn’t believe him. Not just about the fact he was her dad, but about…anything. Hell, she didn’t even go by the name “Nashi.” Natsu could sort of start to understand how she’d come to be called “Layla”, seeing as it was her middle name. He worried about the specifics of the name change, though. Fairy Tail’s Strongest Team had had to use fake names on a few missions, mainly to infiltrate dangerous groups and take them down from inside.
Another guildmate who’d used fake identities in the past was Jellal (now the official Master of Fairy Tail’s Branch Guild, Crime Sorcière). Aside from playing Mystogan back when he’d been a fugitive, he’d done it mainly to prevent enemies from retaliating against Fairy Tail or his family. Then there was Mest, who Natsu was pretty sure still did spy things for the guild, but thankfully didn’t manipulate his own memories any more. None of the reasons he could think of for why Nashi might be hiding behind an alias made him feel too good, especially after his encounter with Mad Cow.
Even more concerning was the fact that Magic didn’t exist here. That you were considered insane if you mentioned it at all. Even Nashi, one of only two born Dragon Slayers in history, thought so. What the hell was he even supposed to do with that?! He couldn’t even protect her from whatever had forced her to take the name “Layla.”
He stopped in front of her apartment building and scowled up at it for the second time, struggling to think straight enough to come up with a plan with how physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted he was.
It was supposed to be simple: find Nashi and everyone else who vanished into those portals, then bring them home. Since the day they all vanished, that had been his main goal. Hell, it was the self-appointed mission of pretty much all the Mages left in Fiore—most of whom had also lost at least one person close to them to the mysterious portals which erupted across the country. Natsu had achieved the first part of the mission only for Nashi herself to become a new obstacle. In every possible way, he was lost.
His head felt like it was going to split. The pain made it even harder to think clearly. But standing there, Natsu did manage to draw one important yet unfortunate conclusion: kicking down the door to his daughter’s apartment building and yelling her name till he found her was almost certainly a bad idea.
He sulked at the realization. That was exactly what he wanted to do. Patience had never been his strong suit, and he was barely clinging to it at all after finding his daughter only to immediately learn she was in danger and living in a shit-hole. It was only what wisdom he’d gained as a grown man, a husband, and a father that allowed him to accept all he was likely to get from chasing her down again tonight was another kick—not to mention a lower chance of ultimately convincing her he was her dad. Something he had no chance of figuring out how to do when he was this tired and frayed.
Eventually, reluctantly, he headed to the park across the street from her house.
Or, uh, maybe a park? he wondered, eyeing all the dirty, bedraggled people curled up on benches or over the grass. Maybe travelers of some kind, seeing as some of them were in tents not too unlike the one he and Lucy had started bringing on missions after they’d started getting frisky. So long ago, now, but he could remember like it was yesterday.
He chuckled to himself at the thought and suffered the wave of ensuing (decidedly less-than-pure) homesickness. The breeze cooled Natsu’s skin pleasantly as he scanned for a good spot to rest for the night, quickly spotting a tree with wide branches.
He didn’t particularly like dozing in trees, preferring to spread out and/or cuddle Lucy as much as possible. But being able to was a skill that came in handy as a Mage—especially for S-Class missions that required initial reconnaissance.
Besides. In terms of this “mission”, the tree’s largest branch also happened to overlook Nashi’s apartment building. Even from here, Natsu could see her Magicycle gleaming beneath its street lamp, well in-sight of the tree branch he had his eye on. From there, he could watch over her.
“Oi, watch it!” someone snapped when he tripped over them on his way over to the tree.
“Oops, sorry! My bad, man!”
The tree bark was merciless against his palms. He grimaced at the trouble his knee gave him going up and grunted as he pulled himself onto the wide branch.
“This sucks,” he grumbled, shaking out his arms and glaring at his bloody, dirty knuckles. An entire lifetime of training dedicated to both his Magic and his body. Now he couldn’t even punch a couple people without exposing bone, could barely climb to the lowest branch of a damn tree. He wondered idly if this is how Loke felt when he’d remained on Earthland for such a long time.
He wondered how Nashi must have felt, when she landed here. How hard it must have been for her. At least she hadn’t been all alone. Even if Harley couldn’t fly, now, Nashi had confirmed they’d been together. The thought provided a sliver of comfort.
He settled his back against the trunk and peered out over his left shoulder, pleased he’d been right: from the perch he’d found, he had a clear view of Nashi’s Magicycle and apartment building perfectly. The nearly empty road between them sat like a dark and eerily still, silent river far below. Which apartment was hers? Could she look back at him, if she stood at a window?
“I’m keeping my promise,” he vowed softly, staring at the apartment building. “No matter what, I’m taking you home, Nashi.” He sniffled a bit, swiping the tears from his cheeks before they could wet his smiling lips.
Natsu crossed his arms behind his head and fell into a rather easy sleep, considering the bruises and aches on his weakened body.
----------------------
Thud!
She fell back to the ground with a cry of surprise and pain. A small one—the squeaky cry of a child no older than five. Frustrated tears gathered in her eyes. She groaned, propping her elbows beneath her and squeezing warm dirt between her fingers.
A huff met her ears, and she lifted her eyes to focus on the person strutting towards her. It wasn’t until he stopped right in front of her, blocking the sun with his head, that she could make him out. A scowling boy. Bigger than her, older, with hair the color of midnight.
It was when she noticed the edges of his form shimmering under the sun that Layla realized she was dreaming.
It had been a while since she’d had this dream…
The bright scent of fire and the smell of coming rain hung strong in her nostrils, so sharp they were breathtaking. So sharp they kept her in the dream despite her awareness of it. The combination of scents was inexplicably comforting. Familiar.
The boy crossed his arms over his bare chest, grunting irritably. “Would you quit?! Jeez! How many times have I told you to quit following me around, ya damn pest!?”
“Too bad!” she growled, still trying to get up. Her arms and legs weighed about a thousand pounds, and she wound up flumping backwards with a groan. “I-I’m gonna beat you, I swear!”
He rolled his eyes. “You mean like you said you were gonna yesterday? And the day before yesterday? And the day before that? And then also the—“
“Shut up!” Her cheeks burned. “Today’s gonna be different!
“You get that I’m, like, way older than you, right?”
“So what?!”
“So I’m bigger and stronger, that’s what!”
She groaned, pushed again. Once more, she fell. This time her head thumped against the dirt.
Concern peeked through the boy’s scowl, his arms dropping back to his sides. “Oi! Take it easy for once, would you?”
She ignored him. “Get up!” she growled, fighting back tears of frustration. “I always get back up!” Moving her legs was like swimming through sand. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get them under herself. Finally, her frustration boiled over, and she stabbed a finger at the boy. “GET UP!”
“YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S ON THE GROUND!” [*1]
He took a couple deep breaths. However, it became clear his efforts to calm himself didn’t work when he exploded, “Why do you wanna beat me so bad anyway, huh?! I mean, the hell’d I ever do to you?!”
“It’s not that!” she groaned, still pushing. “It’s not like you did anything! I wanna beat you because…because you’re so strong! If I wanna be the best, I can’t waste time fighting a bunch of babies! If I wanna be the best, I gotta be able to beat the best!”
She could feel his gaze on her as she finally managed to push herself to her hands and knees, breathing heavily.
He huffed again, and this time, the sound was less annoyed. “That’ll never happen,” he chuckled, then sighed. “Damn…you really are a pest, you know that, Nashi?”
Just as she gritted her teeth, preparing to stand, a hand appeared in front of her face. She looked up in surprise to find the boy smiling down at her. The irritation in those strange, clear blue eyes—fringed in long, dark lashes—had softened into an exasperated sort of fondness. His outline was clearer, now. Less shimmery. “Well? Thought you said you were gonna beat me. Can’t do that from down there, can you?”
----------------------
It was when she took the sparkly Edward Cullen child’s hand that she woke up. Always then.
Awareness of the pain in her battered body slammed into her like the morning’s white light against her eyelids. Groaning, she flung an arm over her eyes only to hiss when the movement tugged at muscles stiffer than cold taffy. Harley stirred at Layla’s abrupt movement, a purr emanating into her side. Her joints throbbed as did the underside of her right jaw.
She could tell from the din of traffic floating through her closed window that it was past time to get up. She’d had an absolute shit of a time falling and staying asleep the previous night, but she couldn’t afford laziness now, when the Championship fight was less than a week out [*2].
Unlike most fighters of Layla’s caliber, she didn’t have top-notch sparring partners, a doctor, or a nutritionist at her beck and call. She didn’t have money to throw around so she could pay other people to make her the best; she didn’t even get paid anywhere near as much as the assholes she fought, whenever they won a fight. Hell, she didn’t even have one coach any more. She was the best because she woke up earlier, trained harder, gave more, and aimed higher. It was up to her. Her alone. It’d always been that way.
And yet…that morning, for a few longing minutes, she tried to let sleep keep her. She clung to the details of the years-forgotten dream, heart pinching inexplicably as they faded despite her best efforts, like smoke slipping through her fumbling fingers. The smell of fire and coming rain were swamped by the pungent odor of sweaty clothes and kitty litter. The echo of the boy’s voice slipped away beneath the sounds of traffic and the couple next door’s shouting.
Unfortunately, the one part of the dream she wanted to forget—the detail she’d stewed over all night—stuck to the front of her brain like it’d been superglued:
“Damn…you really are a pest, you know that, Nashi?”
…Nashi…
That damn name.
Rage Layla had been too tired to fully realize the previous night boiled up in her chest as “NASHI” screen-savered through her head, the memory of that homeless, pink-haired wingnut popping up between the floating words like a bad jump scare. She gripped her bedsheets with swollen, lilac knuckles and clenched her teeth so hard, they creaked like they were going to break.
Why? she fumed silently, struggling to swallow the hot, frustrated scream clawing its way up her throat—only because she didn’t want to scare Harley. Fucking WHY?
It was bad enough that she’d stewed over the bizarre encounter until the not-so-wee hours of morning, unable to sleep thanks to her shithead roommate and her “friends” making a bunch of sounds she’d never wanted to hear in her goddamn life! (Not to mention the conversation she overheard between two of Gracie’s creep-ass “guests” right outside her bedroom door, two guys egging each other to “get the pink-haired girl involved in the fun” until Gracie lured them back to the living room—lucky for them.) But when she’d finally started to drift off, she’d sworn not to think of the incident until after her fight four days from now.
That’s right...she thought grimly. Four days.
The Championship.
Her shot at redemption.
Her stomach churned. The frustrated scream climbed higher in her throat.
It was humiliating and infuriating enough that Pinky Wingnut had caught her off-guard so bad. For most of the night she’d raged at herself for engaging with some freak who was so clearly insane, let alone almost believing him, let alone asking him about…that name, a name she didn’t even give a shit about anymore. A name gathering dust in the bottom of the tattered, locked trunk across her room, right along with the police file it was tucked away in.
It felt like she’d had an embarrassing childhood toy she didn’t remember burying shoved into her arms without warning. And instead of throwing it back in the jerk’s face and telling him to fuck off, what had her stupid ass done? Asked him where he dug it up. Oh, and paid him for his trouble.
But no, she brooded, dropping her arm from her face and letting the light sear her eyes so that she could glare at the ceiling. Worse than the fact that she’d let him wobble her mentally and emotionally, worse than the fact she’d given him $250 she couldn’t really afford to hand out…worse than any of that was the bastard’s timing.
The moments following her win had already been a shitshow, even if no one but her knew it. It’d been that way the whole past year, but last night—the semi-final fight—had definitely been the worst. The second Lee had thrown her away from Mad Fuck or whatever and she’d managed to pull herself out of “fight mode” to convince herself that yes, she’d actually won, her mind had eagerly jumped to her corner—only to remember it was empty, now. There was no one there. No strong, smirking older blonde boy or a tiny, old one-eyed man offering up one of his rare, proud smiles through his mustache.
Just a little bit of hope had kept her heart from sinking too far as she remembered that her friend from the system, Rose [*3], had promised to come out to watch her tonight.
The triumphant smile and pose had been a facade, one which she struggled more and more to keep up this past year. The effort had felt monumental while she strutted around the perimeter of the cage, heart warming a bit at the sight of some regular fans cheering from the front row, decked out in what must have been homemade merch with her name all over it, even as she remained desperate in her search for skin pink and slightly warped with an old burn; messy brown waves of hair; and large, dreamy hazel eyes in the crowd.
She never found them.
As her eyes’ search had faltered, realizing her friend wasn’t there like she’d promised she would be, they’d begun to sting, much to her horror. Bitterness nipped at her crumpling heart.
I…have nothing—
It was with the thought she barely managed to stifle, this time, that she’d been completely unable to maintain the facade, all of her effort needed to smother the pit trying to yawn wide inside her. The throbbing, gloved fist she had lifted in triumph had begun to drop, the smile had fled, her vision had blurred…
And then Pinky Wingnut had appeared like a bolt from the damn blue, bellowing the name she’d been so close to finally forgetting. In front of a shit-ton of people, no less. He hadn’t even looked embarrassed for himself. Had thrown himself into the arena like he had any—no, every damn right to be there, obviously not caring who he had to punch, elbow, or throw to get there. Had shamelessly barked and pitted himself against the ref, Lee, whose very presence demanded respect.
No, he was too crazy for shame, something which had finally been driven home during their second “reunion” when he’d started yelling about Harley—a name he definitely shouldn’t have known. Not even if he somehow had a copy of the same police file she did. Her police file. In the notes they took during the interview with her five-year-old self, the cops had consistently misspelled Harley’s name as “Charlie,” one of the many ways those dolts had fumbled and fucked up while trying to figure out who and where her parents were.
At least “Charlie” makes more sense than “Nashi Layla Dragon O’Neil”…she thought, eye twitching at the thought of the ridiculous name the pigs claimed her five-year-old self told them. Granted, Little Layla had been pretty obsessed with dragons. Even more than she had been throughout most of her childhood in the system. Even more than Pinky Wingnut. Maybe even enough to make up such a ridiculous name, one which literally contained the word “Dragon.”
If she remembered the interview correctly, she’d even whined that she was hungry and begged the cops for some fire to eat—that was, when she wasn’t too busy crying because Harley wouldn’t talk to her or making up wild shit about how her parents were warlocks or whatever, how she belonged in a fairy tale. She hadn’t even bothered to specify which one.
Throwing her blanket off herself and the cat in question, who beeped hoarsely in protest, Layla swung her legs out of bed. Her bruised bare feet slapped against the cold, cheap, off-white tile as she fumbled for her trusty bottle of pain pills on the nightstand, popped a couple, then brought her water bottle to her lips to wash it down.
She stood and stretched her arms above her head with a groan, scratching at her tan, toned stomach and wincing slightly as she tottered over to her bedroom window, tripping over piles of manga volumes on the way [*4]. She’d gotten lucky with her view of the park across the street, especially with the big, half-dead old tree which dominated the middle of the panes.
Now, Layla was so busy raging at herself, she barely registered the sight. Didn’t see the sunny day, the homeless people rolling up their tents and clearing out before someone driving by called the cops. She glared at the cars moving below, seething with her own thoughts so hard she could almost feel steam pouring out of her ears and nose into the room.
No more goddamn distractions, she swore viciously to herself. No more crying during her victory lap like a pathetic weakling. No more getting sidetracked by delusional Pinky Wingnuts. No more thinking about…that name and all the mortifying bullshit that came with it. Four days out was Championship night. Until then, no more fucking distractions.
She sat there, staring unseeingly at the old tree and tried to amp herself up, frustration detonating slowly in her brain as her heart barely stirred at her own lecture. No matter how hard she worked, how much she tried, or how many times she yelled her catchphrase at the end of her fights…for the past year, something just wasn’t there.
“I’ve got a fire inside me you’ll just never put out!” came closer and closer to getting completely stuck at the back of her throat—and staying there. It felt more like a lie every time it left her lips.
Frustration finally hitting boiling point like a fucking teakettle screaming, she stomped back over to her nightstand, less tripping over her manga than kicking the pile, this time. She unplugged her phone from its charger, scowling as she scrolled through the notifications to see that not only had Rose not bothered to show up, she hadn’t even fucking texted to explain why. The last text she’d ever sent came two days ago, just the words, I’ll try n be there punctuated with a shitty smiley face.
“You fucking liar,” Layla seethed under her breath, croaky voice shaking.
Distantly, she registered Harley (who’d apparently decided to quit being a lazy little lump) twirling around her ankles, mewling for breakfast.
She told herself it was anger making her heart wince, not pain. She knew Rose struggled. She did. She knew that. Her life hadn’t been any easier than Layla’s—in ways, much harder after the fire which left them both scarred in different ways. After Layla and a reluctant Gracie had managed to convince her to get help a couple years ago, she’d been so much better for a while. But now…
Now whatever, Layla thought viciously, black flames licking furiously at her insides. One thing, she’d asked for. It wasn’t like she wanted anything crazy, just for one person who mattered to show up for two of the biggest fights of her life (so far). She’d long given up on Gracie, but Rose used to show up—even if it was only occasionally. Sometimes even when she was going through a bad period. Layla had been there for Rose as much as she could after juvie, had picked her up after benders, beat the shit out of anyone who made fun of her burns. And her “friend” apparently couldn’t pay her back by just freaking showing up once or twice.
So much for “Foster kids don’t ditch each other,” she thought bitterly.
Fuck you too, Rose, she typed aggressively. Seriously.
Layla hit Send. Then, after pausing for a second, she typed out:
If you’re not there Friday night, I’ll fucking kill you!
Layla hit Send again. Clicking out of their conversation, she scowled as another text from an unsaved number made itself known through bolded font:
Yo, congrats on the win! Looks like we’re up again! A fist emoji. Good luck...you’ll need it...
That text was punctuated by a winky face. Another text followed it up:
I heard some crazy shit went down at the end of your fight, tho…u good?
Layla’s eye twitched. Ever since that motherfucker Helio thwarted her attempt to take the championship title from him a year previously, he’d decided to fuck with her mind by sending annoying texts at least a few times a week. If that naive, gullible dumbass Rose wasn’t the one who kept giving him Layla’s number, insisting he “wasn’t such a bad guy” Layla would have killed her.
She gritted her teeth hard enough to give herself a headache, almost mangling her phone. No matter how much she tried to tell herself she was too experienced a fighter to let that stupid douchebag psych her out, the rage burning in her chest and the fact that she still hadn’t been able to make herself rewatch last year’s championship fight—the only one she’d lost in the semi-unders—said otherwise.
The most she’d ever sent him was a poop emoji. Their “conversation” was basically just littered with them. But now, her temper was so close to snapping that she just deleted the conversation entirely with hard taps, refusing to give herself a chance to reply something stupid.
For all the fucking good it did. This time, the frustrated scream did leave her throat, making her sound like a fucking demon smoker.
She threw her phone on her bed with more force than necessary, breathing heavily while she watched it bounce.
“Whatever,” she breathed to herself like a fucking bull. “Forget it, whatever!” At least she didn’t get any texts from that other, much worse bastard anymore…obviously, changing her number a bunch of times had done the trick.
Harley, wholly unperturbed by her outburst, decided to up the breakfast-begging ante. She went from weaving around her ankles to clawing viciously at her bare leg, meowing louder.
“Ow!” Layla snapped, swatting at the little gremlin to shoo her off. “You fish-addicted, fucked up cat!”
Harley yowled petulantly. The little shit was Layla’s best friend, and she loved her to death, but she could really be a monster when it came to her damn “fishies.” Or scratching the shit out of her furniture and walls. Or if anyone other than Layla came near her (though Layla didn’t really blame her for that one).
The little cat leapt atop one of the few still-intact pile of comics and manga near the window, white tail swishing agitatedly. Those odd, blank-but-not, round, charcoal eyes of hers an unblinking, salmon-filled demand. Layla was geared up to ignore her and get ready for the day—maybe even eat her own damn breakfast first, for once, if Harley was going to be such a little brat!—but her anger cooled when the morning light streaming in from the window illuminated the sheen of pink skin peeking through her white fur. Barely visible, but still there. A burn gained in the same fire as Rose’s, before Layla managed to get her out.
Layla didn’t feel bad for calling Harley “fucked up.” She didn’t. She was a cat, for crying out loud. She couldn’t even understand a word she said anymore than she could fly like Pinky Wingnut the Stalker, seemed to think.
The fighter sighed. “Tch…well, who wants a fishies, then?” she half-cooed, half-grumbled her usual morning phrase—which she’d never, ever say in front of anyone else—then snorted and made to get dressed when Harley practically sang a meow at hearing her favorite words.
----------------------
“Fuck off, Gracie!”
Her shithead roommate was the absolute last person Layla wanted to see while she and Harley were trying to enjoy their breakfast that morning. Especially when the jerk was practically naked—clad only in a thong and one of her loser “friends’” shirts (Layla assumed); especially when the apartment had gained a new beer can and burnt tin foil rug overnight; and especially when she was trying to steal Layla’s food.
She slammed a bruised fist onto Gracie’s lanky hand as it snaked to towards her bacon. The table, silverware, and Harley’s bowlful of raw salmon rattled as she pinned it to the wood hard enough to leave a bruise.
“Ouch!” Gracie squeaked, wriggling her hand out from Layla’s fist, Layla only letting her up after giving her a good long glare.
Harley, perched on the table right next to Layla’s morning feast, was barely fazed by the jolt to the table or loud sounds. However, she was clearly not happy with Gracie’s nearness. If Layla hadn’t been there between them, there would have been a real concern for the safety of Gracie’s hands. She lifted her head from the bowl of raw salmon she’d previously been loudly scarfing to stare down their lanky, pale roommate. Though her tail briefly bristled like a soda bottle, she quickly returned to devouring her fish to no one’s damn surprise, although she ate more quietly now.
Meanwhile, Gracie pouted, rubbing her hand and eyeing Harley with a distaste that was far too familiar. Then she finally returned her angled, glinting dark eyes to her angrily flushed roommate. Her pout grew bigger as she threw her skinny, naked ass into the chair on the opposite side of the table from Harley.
“Seriously? You have that ginormous breakfast and can’t even give your own bestie one tiny slice of bacon?”
“Bestie” was a major stretch, especially at the moment. But admittedly, it was a big breakfast:
One huge veggie omelet and a sizable hunk of meat (bacon, today) both marinated in enough spices to turn most peoples’ tongues to leather. Whole wheat toast with almond butter. A big protein smoothie to top it all off. It was a ton of calories, but every one would be needed for today’s training.
Makar, Layla’s old coach, would have skinned her alive if he’d been around to know she wasn’t taking the day after a fight to rest [*5]. She’d always thought it was a stupid rule, but she’d grudgingly followed it out of respect for her coach.
But now, Mak was buried in the graveyard a couple blocks over, and so was the “Rest Day Rule” as far as Layla was concerned. She hadn’t rested a single day the past year, not even when sick. Rest was for spoiled douchebags like Helio who had an entire team dedicated to shaping him into an amazing fighter like a ball of fucking golden clay. Hell, he even had a fight manager now that most of his fights were in the “real” octagon rather than the semi-underground.
She should know, since she’d been watching all his fights since forever.
(Just not theirs.)
Layla bared her teeth at Gracie. “No, I can’t! I need the energy for training! And even if I could, I wouldn’t! Get your own damn food!”
“Ugh.” Gracie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her braless chest. “Don’t tell me you’re butthurt about last night. God, it’s not even that big a deal. You are such a slut-shamer.”
“Don’t fucking call me a slut-shamer!” she snapped back, throwing her chopsticks down on her plate just to taunt Gracie with the fact that she wasn’t even eating the breakfast she refused to share. “As if that has anything to do with shit! Last night was the semi-final—“
“I forgot,” Gracie sniffed, turning away while closing her eyes.
“Like hell you did, liar!” Layla snarled. “I reminded you like a thousand times!” She scooped her chopsticks back up, squeezing them so hard they threatened to break. “I don’t care who you bone, but I’ve got four days to the Championship fight, and I’m not getting there like a zombie because I had to keep listening to your shitty crooning! Next time, I’ll throw their asses out!”
She pointed her chopsticks at the girl whose aura was now definitely souring, ignoring the sounds of Harley now loudly licking her chops from the other side of the table.
“And while we’re on the subject, how does that scenario even happen!? ‘Oh, hey, Rando, do you happen to be a huge asshole?’” She pretended to pause as if listening, then to brighten with a mocking amount of pageantry. “ ‘Oh, you are? Fantastic! You pass the audition! Come on over around 8 for a gang-wang!’”
“It’s ‘gangbang’,” Gracie sneered, her laughter making Layla’s ears heat with embarrassment. “Seriously, how do you get to ‘gang-wang’?” Layla hunched her shoulders in an attempt to hide the effect, hoping Gracie would just move on. But since when had she ever gotten what she wanted?
“And also, I just meet guys at parties, get their numbers, and text them. Really not rocket science. But then, you wouldn’t know that, would you? Since you’re such an oblivious prude. Not to mention an imbecile.” She stood, turning away to stretch and giving Layla an unfortunate full view of her bony white horse butt. “But then again…” She turned smirking over her similarly bony shoulder. “That’s only to be expected from a gorilla.”
Layla stiffened as the cruel nickname was thrown at her for the second time in as many days.
Let it go, she tried to tell herself. She’s just pissed because you called her out. Foster kids don’t ditch each other. They stick by each other.
But this time, the placations didn’t work; her rage leapt to her tongue faster than she could bite it.
“Go fuck yourself, Third-Base Grace!”
Her roommate froze, turning to stare at her with wide eyes full of horror and disbelief as Layla glowered up at her, cheeks tinged in anger. She’d never resorted to calling Gracie that. Ever. Hell, she used to beat people up when they called Gracie that, after they both left juvie and wound up in the same high school.
The worst part was that she couldn’t even make herself feel bad for pulling out the mean high school nickname. Not when she was having such a shit morning. Not when the resentment had been festering within her for this long.
Not when Gracie had done the exact same thing to her—several times, now.
When their glare-off lasted for several seconds, Gracie’s devastation transformed just as surely and quickly as Layla’s had. Layla could see it in her eyes. For a second, she thought Gracie was going to say something really nasty, and she geared up, ready to fucking throw down if it came to it. Throwing her naked ass out was looking more appealing by the minute, let alone by the day, if she was being honest.
But then, as soon as Gracie’s eyes narrowed and the fire flared within them, her anger was muted. Not exactly gone, but looking like a veil had been cast over it, darkening it.
“Whatever,” she scoffed, snatching her phone off the couch she’d been crashing on for months and stalking towards the bathroom. “Get that hideous thing you call a cat off the table.”
Harley, obviously unable to understand the girl, paid the words no mind, flicking her bristled tail while she watched her walk away.
Layla, on the other hand, felt her temper spike. “Her name is Harley! And fucking make me!” she snapped back. “And all this shit better be cleaned up by the time I get back, or so help me—“
The slam of the bathroom door cut her off, leaving Layla cursing under her breath.
Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry any more, but she forced herself to shovel down the rest of her breakfast as quickly as possible. She told herself it was the spicy food making her eyes burn.
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A good, hard run served as Layla’s daily warm-up for training. Always had, as far as she remembered. As per usual during the flaming can of garbage that was the past year, she felt like she was flagging the entire time. According to the timer on her phone, her times were better than ever. Yet she’d never felt slower.
Sometimes, it felt like her phone and even her Wikipedia page—which documented her unbroken record over the past year—were lying to her, playing tricks on her. Like a light scale, something she’d had to deal with occasionally back when she competed at other types of martial arts for Mak as a kid [*6].
It also didn’t matter that she refused to look at the graveyard when she passed it on her route; she could always hear Mak’s voice , like the loudest bastard of a ghost ever from the moment she dashed her first step.
“GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR! DON’T EVEN FUCKING THINK OF LETTING THOSE BOYS BEAT YOU!”
Nevermind the fact that she didn’t run alongside any boys to beat, anymore.
“Foul-mouthed…old…man,” she wheezed to herself, leaning against the big, dying old tree where she always finished her run, the one she could see from her window. She ignored the passersby who gave her strange looks.
Jeez, she thought after a while. It’s really taking me a long time to catch my breath. She felt way better, but she could still hear herself. In fact, it almost sounded like…
Her eyes widened. Hold up! That’s not someone catching their breath, and it sure as shit ain’t me.
Instead, it sounded like…snoring? Pretty loud snoring, too. Layla straightened. Warily, she glared down several of the passersby, wondering if one of them was fucking with her or something. To her fury, several of them eyed her suspiciously, like she was the one standing there in broad daylight snoring out loud like a fucking freak.
“What the hell are you looking at, huh?!” she snapped at one old man with a weird green had and a particularly disdainful glare. He huffed something about “rude brats” while shuffling along.
She frowned as he vanished, glancing around to see that most people in the immediate vicinity had cleared off. Yet the snoring raged on, sounding like a bear except when it would stop entirely, turning into these obnoxious little snorts. With a huff of confusion, she walked around the tree, frown deepening as she looked to see if someone was sleeping on the other side.
“Alright, seriously?!” she exclaimed throwing her arms up before flinging them across her chest, pouting in thought. She was stumped. If the snoring wasn’t coming from her, then what, was it coming from the freaking tree?!
She paused, actually considering the possibility. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. “Huh…” she muttered, eyes widening in fascination as she crouched down, putting a hand against the bark and wiping at her sweaty forehead with the other. “Well, I mean, plants gotta breathe, too, don’t they?” At least, she thought she remembered learning something like that in school.
Suddenly, the snoring ceased, turning into a groan. Layla yanked her hand away from the tree like it burned her, eyes bugging. “W-what the hell?!” she whispered, now officially getting creeped out.
Then the tree fucking gasped.
And then, Layla finally figured out it wasn’t the tree when the gasp was followed up with an unfortunately familiar voice crying a hoarse, “Nashi!”
She looked up.
She screamed.
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Footnotes:
*1. On Layla telling the “Edward Cullen” boy to get up when she’s the one on the ground: You might recognize this interaction from the original story. Natsu said it to Gray when they were fighting as children in one scene. I couldn’t resist borrowing the moment as both a hint and for nostalgic reasons.
*2. On having two fights within the same week: In the UFC, fighters have ~5 fights a year at most. The idea of someone doing a sport as violent, intense, and damaging to the body as UFC-level MMA even multiple times in one month is ludicrous. Doesn’t really matter since this is a Fairy Tail fic, and I won’t correct everything that’s inaccurate, but if I don’t roast myself just a little all my research was for NOTHING!!
*3. On mentions of characters from “Our Earth” such as Rose and Helio: Little characters and details like this are genuinely important to the fic and will ultimately be relevant even to Fairy Tail’s OC’s, I promise. This is NOT going to be one of those fics that’s ostensibly a Fairy Tail fic but in execution could really be totally unrelated to the original story, I promise.
*4. On Layla/Nashi’s manga volumes: Nashi’s love for manga (including eventual mentions of stories some of you may recognize) is as close to a crossover fic as this story will ever get.
*5. On Layla not taking rest days after fights: no
*6. Meaning of “light scale”: a scale that gives out readings less than one’s actual weight, an infamously common problem with the scales provided by US Olympics in sports such as Judo, where fighters have to cut (lose) or make (gain/maintain) weight to compete in certain weight classes
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Author’s Notes:
Hmm…could “Makar” be an Edolas-like parallel, I wonder?
Again, sorry this took so long! Tried to cut back on the “Our Earth” exposition, but kind of think it might still be too much? I’m also nervous about Layla/Nashi’s second debut. She’s definitely been something of a handful to write. But this is just how the story developed in my head, so oh well.
Like I said, I’m going to try to get chapters out faster, from here on out. I’d like to aim for at least one every week and a half, but I won’t give you guys a real, hard number until I figure out what works for me.
Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed!
#chasing tails#fairy tail#fairy tail fanfiction#fairy tail fan fiction#nalu fanfiction#nalu#gruvia#gajevy#jerza#fanfiction#fan fiction
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Hi Sarah, you sent me this but you're the only writer I know of AND talk to, so I'm pulling an uno reverse card! Now you gotta do this AGAIN, HAHA!! When you get this, answer one of the questions (or all if you really want!) then pass it on to 5 writer friends! 🥰 If you have more than one WIP, pick at random! We want you talk about your works and celebrate with you! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 1. What are you most excited to write with this WIP? 2. How has this WIP changed since the “daydream/brainstorm” stage? 3. Who is your favorite character in this WIP and why?
Lmao that's so real of you. Since I already did the wip I'm most fixated on, this time I'll talk about Put in the Work. This is barely a wip because it's complete, I've done the first full read-through, and made editing notes. I only need to make my edits, do another read-through, do those edits, maybe another read-through with some more edits, and then post! It's practically done 🫠
oh right it's a parkner fic currently sitting at 51k and was formerly known as The NASA AU (more on that in no. 2)
What are you most excited to write with this WIP?
At this point I'm most excited to actually finish it and start posting lol Oops got distracted reading it trying to find a spot I'm excited to edit haha let's just say the part where Peter finally clues Harley in that he means what he says is *chef's kiss* Have an excerpt!
Harley sits up, his lower back aching from the awkward position. “And you thought we could keep pretending like that first night and we would just—,”
Peter snaps to full lucidity. His eyes bore into Harley’s, wide and alert. He licks his lips and when he speaks it’s rushed, like if he doesn’t get it out now, he might never. “Harley, I haven’t been pretending. Not since the first night. Everything I’ve said to you, I meant it. Please don’t hate me.”
“Wha—,” All of the little I love you’s and promises of forever, spin through Harley’s mind in a dizzying instant. “Everything?”
2. How has this WIP changed since the “daydream/brainstorm” stage?
As mentioned, this was my parkner nasa au (it still sort of is). I don't know what it is about taking characters out of their canon and sticking them on a space shuttle or in a rocket lab but I live for that shit. Unfortunately, I only had the vague idea that Harley is a rocket scientist for NASA, Tony is jealous that he chose a government job over working at S.I., and Peter is Spider-Man, lives in New York, and was invited down to Florida with Tony to watch Harley's rocket launch.
Then I arbitrarily decided Harley should be a single father and everything went off the rails lol There is .02 seconds of NASA and the rest is all about the loneliness of devotion.
3. Who is your favorite character in this WIP and why?
Harley Harley Harley Harley
He's just so blorbo? He loves his people so much? He will sabotage his own happiness and call it an act of service. He sees something that needs done and he does it without witness, without reward. He's straight-forward and doesn't pander to bullshit. He's methodical and practical but also goofy and sarcastic. He thrives at the intersection of play and challenge.
He's my boy and I love him.
His daughter Hazel is also fun to write (which kind of surprised me!) and Abbie is as always a favorite <3
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I'm asking aLL THE FIC WRITER MEMES!!! in reverse order from current WIP back through your published works
Omg thank you, you mad man! But you know now I’m wondering just how much homework you set your actual students… ^^;
So I’ve chosen to interpret this in a very literal way. I started with the bottom ask and applied it to the current WIP, and worked backwards through my fics as I went up the list. I didn’t answer any of the ones that needed a trope or ship picking, but am still open to being asked if anyone wants!
★ what was the scene you most wanted to write in [fic]? what was the hardest scene to write?
(Whumptober 2022 day 31: Comfort | Bedside Vigil | “You can rest now.”) The whole thing is really just one scene, but it really did epitomise the eternal problem with writing Francis/Jerott, which is how do you get them to stop being smart with each other and just. Open up a little? Of course this opening up is also the scene I want most to write at any given time. Though any and all Jerott whump makes my horrible little gremlin brain happy, so to be able to include various flashbacks to times Jerott was having an even worse day was fun. And Francis feeling guilty about the kiss in Anemone was also fun >:} But I think finishing this one was hard. I wanted to push for more intimacy between them but that isn’t where either of them is at this point, but Francis’ care for Jerott even in his disappointment – AND VICE VERSA – is honestly one of my favourite things about Checkmate, so it was trying to do that justice while keeping them in-character.
✿ did anything major change when you started writing [fic] to when you finished?
(Only Ever Just One Night). I initially thought I’d write follow-up chapters. I had a mean little desire to whump Brasso and have Cassian get him out of a Situation. But it would have meant Plot, which I never fully managed to figure out, and then I got distracted writing lead-up smut to the friends-with-benefits situation instead. But on the whole what’s posted wrote itself really easily – it’s often the way with my first fic in a new fandom, all the initial impressions and headcanons come gushing out before I can start making problems for myself by overthinking.
☉ what do you do when you get stuck writing?
Ahhh, sulk? Nah, it doesn’t happen too often, and usually I manage to knuckle on through. A tried and tested method is a two hour bath lol. Lock the door, turn my music on, nothing to do except figure out that tricky bit of bridging. Usually results in fewer words than it feels like, but gets me through sections I’m struggling with. Also just leaving gaps and continuing to write the bit I want to write, knowing I can go back and join things together later. Making a playlist to remind myself of vibes helps, too.
✄ what’s your editing process?
I re-read quite a lot and tinker with things as I go. I quite like editing (good job as I do it all day), and I like seeing things come together, but I am awful at kill your darlings. I’m writing for fun so I just leave it all in – ‘sure this might not be relevant relevant but it adds fLAvourrrr!!’ I will stick a bunch of line-breaks in or use highlighting/bold to remind myself that a section doesn’t read well or needs adding to, though, and try to go back and figure it out before I let myself continue much further.
✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?
Some of the Whumptober days were like pulling teeth and I think it shows. I think the sweet spot is when I have a pretty clear idea of vibes and outcome and it’s not had the chance to outgrow containment – some scenes (e.g. the chapters at the summer house in Inchoate) lie in wait in my head and when I get to that part of the fic they practically write themselves (sometimes it’s nice stuff, sometimes it’s DDDNE, but it’s basically kind of scene or action with a concrete beginning and ending). But often fitting these scenes in – what comes just before and after – is a nightmare. And like. Yeah ok, I could just write one-shots of the scenes I want to write without the thousands and thousands of words of context but – and you might have noticed this – I am a CONTEXT FIEND. In terms of stand alone fics it’s like I said above about Only Ever Just One Night – fresh in a new fandom and determined-to-get-my-thoughts-down fics are usually dead easy to write.
✎ how do you think readers would guess a fic was yours if you posted anonymously?
Ah this one’s easy: it would be LONG. Probably at least three times as long as it needed to be. For a long time very little would happen, but the minutest detail of everyone’s body language would be described and everyone would probably be in denial about their emotions/circumstances. Most likely they would fuck nasty about it.
♡ pick a fic and I’ll pick a comment that made me really happy
(Escape Velocity) Well OF COURSE I am happy the person it was dedicated to left lovely comments. But especially where you picked up on Brasso being worried about flying in ships because he knows how to take them apart, and even more especially the idea of Cassian ‘stealing’ Brasso temporarily at the moment it’s paralleling the light on Kassa’s face when he leaves Kenari :’) it’s especially pleasing when readers pick up on stuff like that.
▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line
(Counting on You) Still a wip, so subject to change, but I’m very pleased with ‘something crueller than punishment - the certainty that Cass is loved’ and utterly delighted that @elwenyere picked it out in a comment <3
♫ send a fic and i’ll make a 3-5 song playlist for you
(Brassian saga au) Thankfully I already have a 3 hour playlist for the vibes, so to cherry pick some essentials, here we go…
Kate Bush – Get Out of My House
Sam Lee – The Devil & the Huntsman
Björk – Pagan Poetry
Nikniume – Nonantzin
Anna B. Savage – Crown Shyness
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Good morning (night for you), my dear L.
10, 11 (because the phrasing of that question actually made me laugh out loud), 17 (because the people need to know about your new mattdrai AU), and 25 for the writing meme ❤️ now go to bed please and do these tomorrow!
Thank you my dear! I did as you asked and waited until morning ;)
Under a cut because I am utterly incapable of being concise lol
10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?
This question gave me a bit of an existential crisis as a writer, so thank you lol.
I can take being 'haunted' a couple ways. My first thought was about stories I wrote but didn't like, ones I don't feel represent my writing skills well but are nevertheless in my bibliography forever. In which case, sure, I've got stories, especially older ones, that I would say haunt me. I'd also say I feel haunted by the works I don't finish, the WIPs I was so passionate about but I just cannot seem to pick up and finish. Literal ghosts, in a sense.
But to think about it in a positive way, there's also those stories that you bleed all your heart and soul into, the ones you want to forever be attached to your name. When people talk about you as an author they always point to certain works first because those are the epitome of your repertoire. And maybe it haunts you because it is the quality you forever strive to achieve in the works you create afterwards. In that vein, I can't say which fics people would associate with me, but I'd like to think I have a few. There's certainly a few I wrote that I use as a sort of standard to achieve with every new work. The ones when people when they see my name they go 'yeah they wrote this story'. Haunted by success, perhaps?
To the first point, have I ever been haunted by other's writing? Absolutely. Whether you're a writer or not, there's always stories that carve out a space in your mind. Sometimes they inform your own craft. Sometimes it's the emotions they caused or the thoughts they provoked; the stuff that lingers in your mind long after you've put the book down. I'd certainly say I have some of those.
11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?
I do believe this. Very much so. But it fucking hurts sometimes. Taking a knife to your own writing that you've put so much work into and meticulously crafted can feel like cutting a part of your soul out, but I have learned how good it can be. I wouldn't say I'm 'ruthless' about it, but I try to keep my mind open when I'm editing.
Sometimes you need to rip your words and details out to make it better. The reader does not need to know every single intricate detail of the characters, does not need to hear every single word of every single conversation, and do not need to know what is happening every single second of the day. It's cumbersome and laborious to read. It slows the pace of the story to a crawl, leaves no room for the reader's imagination to play, and in my opinion, actually distracts from the characters and narratives as a whole by confusing the focal point of the story. Sometimes it's just word count, nothing more. So yeah, I advocate for killing your darlings.
But I do have a darling graveyard. Non-destructive editing is a habit I've gotten into. I always have a separate document full of cut content and alternate plot lines. For sentimentality's sake, or because sometimes those pieces can find a home elsewhere, maybe even in another form. And I often go back to visit the graveyard. They are still your words, and you shouldn't hate them. Respect the work you put in even if it never sees the sun.
17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.
Okay, so you want me to talk about my new mattdrai project ;) Well, it's a World War One AU--one of those 'shoving my blorbos into a setting I'm fascinated by and probably know too much about' kind of fics haha. I'm not sure how much I can say without spoiling the whole fic. It's set in September of 1918, in the region of Amiens, France. But it doesn't actually take place on the battlefield (for the most part... no spoilers). It's essentially a very literal enemies to lovers plot.
The lore that I will share is this: Matthew travelled up to Canada and joined a Canadian regiment (the PPCLI) in early 1915, so he's been on the Western Front for over three years. Leon, conversely, was living in Canada for some time before the war, but due to rising tensions moved back to Germany shortly before the war broke out, and so ends up joining the German forces (160th Infantry Reg.) So he's basically been fighting for four years by September 1918. Which is when they meet.
Both of them are suffering from combat fatigue. They've lost friends, suffered wounds, grown accustom to the danger and the stress and the violence. They run into each other basically by accident, and extenuating circumstances force them to stick together for a while; talking, re-establishing some humanity in each other, getting a little close *wink wink*. But circumstances arise that force Matthew into action, and Leon to make a difficult choice. I can promise a happy ending, but there will be drama and angst along the way. My forte. My modus operandi, if you will lol.
Add on a heaping dose of internalized homophobia from Matthew and Leon being a wee bit traumatised by the amount of killing he's done. Both of them are skilled, highly-valued men in their units (Matthew is decorated, Leon is TBD). Matthew's more stubborn about keeping the lines between them firm, but Leon is less so, because he's so disillusioned at this point. Germany was suffering severely by this point in the war (disease, starvation, exhaustion, dissension in the ranks, increasing public disdain for the war, a revolution), so Leon's more willing to drop the pretense that the war matters. Though he does still find Matthew annoying at times; can't get rid of pissy Leon all the time lol.
And Matthew's tired too, but he's clinging to the idea that the allies have to 'win', even if he doesn't fully believe it, because if he doesn't than everything he's done and been through up to that point means nothing. Which is not to say he's heartless; eventually his hackles drop. I guess in a sense there's an underlying narrative of 'violent men relearning to be kind'.
Honestly there's details (like their family situations, their service records, etc...) that I don't know for sure whether or not will make it into the text, or to what extent. Some of it could be a bit spoiler-y, too. So I don't want to say more just yet.
I hope this whet your curiosity? Maybe built some intrigue? :)
25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?
Good lord, I've spent soooo much time trying to think of something for this. I don't know if I have an answer that fits? Most of my small character details tend to form in the moment as I'm writing, so there aren't many I can think of off the top of my head. If it isn't relevant I don't tend to think about it. I wish I did--it'd flesh out my character better. Maybe if I went back and read my stuff I'd find some little character details that fit the criteria, but I can't think of any right now. My brain is too exhausted I guess lol.
That being said, I may have one that's been on my mind recently? With regards to my WW1 mattdrai AU.
I have the notion that Leon still met and became close friends with Connor while he was living in Canada, and after Leon went back to Germany and the war broke out, they found a way to keep sending letters to each other despite serving on opposite sides. Maybe Leon doesn't send his letter through the military post, he goes into town when he comes off the line and sends his mail through civilian channels. Maybe they use some kind of pseudonym system to route the mail around to each other. Maybe they send them through neutral countries. Maybe he sends them to Connor's family first and they send it on to Connor under the guise of a family letter, and Connor does the same when sending to Leon. It's not realistic, but it's the idea that they would find a way to hold on to that friendship despite them being made enemies. I don't imagine it would be easy, or that it wouldn't be tense, but it could help keep their view of each other human, remind each other that the war looks the same on both sides. It may also explain why Leon's more readily able to humanise Matthew upon first meeting.
I don't know if any of Leon's or Matthew's friends are going to come up much, if at all, in this AU, simply because the circumstances keep the whole story pretty focused on the two of them, but I am thinking about what their friends and families are doing during the war.
Thank you again my dear! <3
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