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27-royal-teas · 10 months

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literally on my knees begging for the phoenix essay because it’s my all time fave fall out boy song and it makes me feel emotions on the shrimp spectrum

ok!! well!! ask and you shall receive, dear anon, your wish is my command :)) and because i love when people are excited about what i have to say and you are very nice <33 however, i will warn you, this is less of a structured essay and more of a massive infodump, so be warned !!

OK SO. THE PHOENIX. first off musically it's a fantastic song. and its actually scientifically proven that typically strings are used to increase musical tension and emotional tension so usually when you hear fast strings it means that they (the artist) want you to feel stressed, angry, or excited. We can apply this to the beginning of The Phoenix specifically because fob wants you to get hyped!!! It's their opening song for their newest album and for them, this shit is TERRIFYING. will you still want them or will you skip to another song? It's such a stark contrast to the first line of cork tree ("brothers and sisters, put this record down") because they want you to do the exact opposite of that. This is the one they want to use to hook you, to pull you in. Fall Out Boy is back, and this time they've brought even more intensity than before. They want to know: will you still be here? will you listen? these strings are not quite the old fall out boy, will you find them compelling and stick around?

andys drum work on this song is also INCREDIBLE. It's got this pounding, heavy beat. i constantly say that andy is the backbone of the band and i feel like that's more musically apparent in this song than anything. If i really want to scrounge for symbolism, I can say that by making andy's drumbeat stand out so much more in this song, the band is saying that they as a whole are more stable and reliable, just like their backbone. the drummer keeps the beat, the pace. they keep the band on track. together, the instruments (drum, strings, bass) bring the song together into a really rounded sound and it feels so FULL. there are some songs that are spiky, but this one is round all the way through.

and now that we're through with talking about the music itself, let's talk about the lyrics. i love the lyrics in this song so fucking much. it's so pete wentz and even more than that it's the most perfect song to open with. im gonna try to discuss every line and how it relates to the album and fall out boy's history at the time of release + they message they attempt to convey with this song and album. ive been wanting to make an essay on this for a while actually so thank you for giving me this ask as an opportunity to barf my stupid brain out onto tumblr

ok anyway let's start off with the first line-- "put on your war paint". this line is repeated twice: the very beginning and the very end. Why? because it's bold. this album is called save rock and roll. it is giving us a mission to accomplish from the very start. we are gearing up for a war. this is the image that is being painted of the entire album, and it starts from the very beginning- put on your war paint, prepare for battle. the first song is us (cough, the band, cough) preparing for the war as a whole. this is the intro, the gather, the plan. because we are saving rock and roll, through this album. this is the revival. we are bringing it home. this part musically is very strong and it feels like structure. we are showing here how much power and stability we have. also it makes me think of that one picture of pete putting on eyeliner

i am skipping the entire first verse for now but i will be back to it in a bit i promise! i want to talk about the chorus: “hey Youngblood/ doesn’t it feel/ like our time is running out/ im gonna change you like a remix/ then I’ll raise you like a phoenix”. we’re just going to go over the first half first because it’s kind of long. I think it’s in interesting choice, ‘Youngblood’. it kind of makes me think of mcr’s killjoys. it’s the motif, i guess— this haunting youth. ‘Youngblood’ addresses us ourselves, full of life and blood and rage. it again goes with the plot line of the album. the chorus has a paced feel, like running through a field at top speed. ‘like our time is running out’ references again the portion of ‘we were gone for so long, will you still listen?’ fall out boy’s limited time is nearly out here. they are fighting the clock. they are years older and more mature and they’ve GROWN. their time is running out and they are begging us to listen. and then my FAVORITE line, probably in this whole song. ‘I’m gonna change you like a remix, then I’ll raise you like a phoenix’. This entire album is a result of change. Folie a Deux was harshly criticized by the media and the fans because it was a change from fob’s norm. they were mocked mercilessly and basically TOLD TO CHANGE. now, here, they are back, they have made it through alive, and they are better than ever. basically, they have changed but on their own terms. you know how a phoenix is reborn through their ashes? They burn to a crisp when they’ve reached their limit and 100 years later are reborn as babies again. This is why the phoenix is such an important song to open with from the beginning of the album, as well as a fantastic metaphor for the band themselves— because it tells you from the start. Fall out boy is the same, but they have changed. They have grown. And they are better than ever, musically and mentally. This is also good symbolism for rising again even when defeated, which I’ll touch on again later

now, onto the second half of the chorus. The phoenix line is repeated, but preceding that is "wearing our vintage misery/ no, i think it looked a little better on me". fall out boy is kind of known as being part of the 'emo trinity' which, at the time of release, consisted of MCR, FOB and Panic! At The Disco. Personally id replace panic with paramore just because i dislike brendon urie strongly but thats just me. anyway, emo as a subculture in itself is incredibly emotional, and that's the point- emo is short for emotional. (feel free to correct me about any of this at any point of time btw, i am in no way an expert). a consistent trend was a lot of black clothing and the haircuts. i guess this isnt relevant. the relevant part was the emotion. fall out boy in 2009 was miserable. all the members were constantly at each other's throats, and eventually they just called it quits (everyone thought they would never come back, which is why the phoenix metaphor works here). by saying 'wearing our vintage misery' they are saying that they are bringing back that sort of emo-emotional aspect back into their new music, their trademark depressing lyrics, but it's improved. it's a better look on them now because they are doing so much better mentally than they were doing before.

let's backtrack a step to discuss the prechorus: "so we can take the world back from a heart attack/ one maniac at a time we will take it back/ you know time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start so dance alone to the beat of your heart". pete fucking went OFF in this entire song but this section specifically. musically, the prechorus slows it down. it gives the song tension before exploding into the chorus. the first half of the prechorus again brings up the image of SAVE ROCK AND ROLL. i cant exactly recall what horrific events happened in 2013 to give the world a metaphorical heart attack, because i was very young and stupid and unaware of a lot, but i love the word choice here. one MANIAC at a time we will take it back. we are uniting the beaten, the broken and the damned. pretty much all the big names in emo have made their alliances clear: we take in the ones you don't want. they are the hufflepuffs of music. we will take your maniacs, we will take your people. we will build an army of the ones no one loves and we will take back our world together. possibly im interpreting this wrong but. i just think that's a really lovely image.

(also, pete has a motif in his songs-- mania. theres the entire album, for one, but this, as well.)

"time crawls on when youre waiting for the song to start so dance alone to the beat of your heart" is less obviously clear about rebellion and taking back change but it still is incredibly strong about this nonetheless. you can't sit and wait around for change. you can't expect the good things to come to you immediately, that isn't how the world works. when no one is there to lead you, to guide you, you're gonna have to do it yourself. your heart is steady and it knows the way. trust it. dance alone to the beat of your heart.

ok so now im going back to the first verse. sorry for skipping around the song so much. "you are a brick tied to me that's dragging me down/ strike a match and i'll burn you to the ground" i feel like honestly this line is kind of obvious- someone is holding him (pete) back. i'm not going to outright say it was about ashlee (his current ex-wife) because pete never explicitly confirmed it but it definitely seems super likely judging by the time this was written (pete and ashlee divorced in 2011, which was two years before this song was released).

at this point in writing this essay brain barf my thoughts have become a little dead so im looking at lyricgenius to see what they're saying and it is. so not helpful. like bro pls. add some context to WHY these lyrics are arranged this way. but never mind that FOCUS ON THE WRITING TOBY FUCK

ANYWAY. the next line in this verse is "we are the jack o' lanterns in july, setting fire to the sky/ here, here comes with this rising tide, so come on/ put on your war paint". another theme constantly in Pete Wentz Lyrics is summer. i am drawing the connection here specifically from this song and fourth of july. and there it is again! put on your war paint!

fun fact: the story of the jack o lantern apparently is that some guy named jack made a bargain with satan and was doomed to wander the earth with only the company of a hollowed out turnip. again-- the wanderers. we bring in the wanderers, we take them as our own. we are the light in the darkness. we will set the world ablaze. so come on! get ready for war! we will roll in with the tide, and like a tide, we will destroy if we have to, not because we want to, but because it is in our nature.

final line in the verse: "cross walks and crossed hearts and hope to die/ silver clouds with grey lining". these are two popular phrases that have been altered in minor ways that make a huge difference. ive noticed pete tends to do that often. here hes changed 'cross my heart and hope to die' and 'every cloud has a silver lining'. this change is super important because it flips the themes of the two phrases (The Truth Has Been Spoken and There Is Always a Positive, respectively) and it darkens it. what is the correlation between cross walks and hoping to die? the cars. and by saying 'silver clouds with grey lining' he is flipping the saying to read as 'even though something seems light, there is always a dark side... kind of like a yin yang. which makes me think of the current logo, the smiley-frown. it's always about balance and it's always about an even distribution. but that is irrelevant.

and let's have a chat about the second verse: "bring home the boys in scraps/ scrap metal the tanks/ get hitched, make a career out of robbing banks/ because the world is just a teller and we are wearing black masks/ 'you broke our spirit' says the note we pass". this is the most important verse in the song, because this is where the entire theme shows the best. i think from the very start we can make two connections just reading this here, and i bet i can guess what you thought from the start. I bet you saw 'bring home the boys in scraps' and thought oh, toby is totally going to connect that to their motif about 'bring together the unwanted.' and i bet you saw 'we are wearing black masks' and thought ah, toby will definitely relate that to the first line in novocaine. and yeah, you're right. you know me too well, i am a predictable guy. because i 100% will. we KNOW fall out boy. the best example i can use to argue my first point off the top of my head is that they were initially marketed to teenage girls. they were a pop band. i mean, no one can really call them pop now (god, i miss music from the 2000s) but, yeah. no one in the rock or punk scene wanted teenage girls to like their music (because clearly teenage girls were so uncool or whatever) so fall out boy marketed themselves to them. they took in the fans no one wanted.

also, a bank teller is the person who handles customer cash, which is something i did not know until about twenty minutes ago. in the case of a bank robbery, the robber would pass the bank teller a note so that there would be less of a scene. these kind of robberies are called 'note jobs'. so by saying "make a career out of robbing banks/ because the world is just a teller and we are wearing black masks/ 'you broke our spirit' says the note we pass" essentially the band is using a bank robbery as a metaphor for taking back the world and the injustice that has been served to them, as the youth youngbloods. we are trying to take it back as peacefully as possible, but we are still the ones on the side with the gun. the 'note we pass' is the robbery note. lyricgenius was absolutely shit it did not help me with this i feel very proud that i connected all the dots by myself but maybe i am just an idiot and this is already common knowledge.

we are almost done- this has gotten long, a lot longer than i thought it was going to be. hope that's okay. anyway we just have to go over the bridge and then i'll summarize the song as a whole: "the war is won before it's begun/ release the doves, surrender love". this repeats five times. the war is won before it's begun. this is connected to the second part- release the doves, surrender love- because the band doesn't really WANT to fight. they don't want to HAVE to take in the people who aren't given a category. if we could just learn to love those who were different, we might not have war. we would have won it before it's begun. on the third repeat, there is chanting in the background-- 'wave the white flag'. the white flag is a sign of surrender pretty much universally, and it goes hand in hand with what's being said here. and again. i feel like i keep repeating this- it's the intro song. why would they say this? because they don't really want to fight. remember, the point of a note job is to attract as little attention as possible. we don't want a war. we don't WANT to save rock and roll- but we have to. it is our job, as youth- as youngbloods. and THAT'S the message of this song. we are preparing for a fight for justice that we would rather not take part in, but we have to, to protect ourselves and our past and our future and our people.

this is what the band is saying-- we have been gone for so long, but we are back. and we are here to help. we have changed, but you have changed too, and we are better, and together we will take back what we have lost to achieve peace, even if it takes a millenia, even if we go down fighting. because ultimately, we, ourselves, the ostracized and the mocked and the hurt, we are worth it. We will rise above it like a phoenix reborn from the ashes because we are always worth it, and we will always come back.

#i wrote this in three different days with huge time gaps in between I hope it’s comprehensible #toby speaks #Toby’s asks #Toby’s meta #fob #fall out boy #save rock and roll #srar #the phoenix #I physically can’t look at this anymore if I do I’ll throw up #Hope you like it anyway anon!!! i appreciate the ask so much they’re so fun sorry for being so slow to answer #patrick stump #joe trohman #andy hurley #pete wentz

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the-angriestpineapple · 4 years

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fanatic // bakugou x male reader

Bakugou Katsuki, pro Hero Ground Zero, meets one of his biggest fans and gets roped into walking him home. He finds out just how big a fan he is. NOTES: So this was my first xreader fic. I wrote it basically for one of my partners @spacebunnywrites before he was one of my partners. It’s a rough dom Bakugou but there’s some aftercare I promise. Tags: all the holes, rough sex, toys, some embarrassment. x fem here x nonbi coming soon -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It can’t be… you think. He’s never in this district. But you need to check, and your legs are moving toward the gap in the buildings before you’re really thinking about it. Soon you’re running through the narrow passage, pulse quickening as the sound of the blasts grow closer. You’re almost there, you just need to see -

You skid to a stop at the alley mouth, eyes widening as a heated explosion rockets past you followed by a maniacally grinning blonde.

“DIE!!”

Oh my god it’s him! Bakugou Katsuki, pro Hero Ground Zero, in the flesh. Your heart stops again as you watch him sail through the air, so elegant in movement despite his abrasive quirk and even more abrasive personality. Most of your friends fantasized about Midoriya Izuku – Deku – the shy green haired number one hero or Kirishima Eijirou – Red Riot – the sturdy number five hero and Ground Zero’s battle partner. But you? Your heart beats for the wild blonde with the crazy smile who constantly pushes the limits.

The battle was moving down the street. You had to get closer. Where all the sane people were running away from the dueling villains and heroes, you were running closer. This was the first time you had ever seen Ground Zero in person and would likely be the last – he was never in your district and you honestly didn’t know why he was now. That didn’t matter though, he was here, and you’d watch him fight or die trying.

You’re so focused on watching the explosion hero in action that you don’t another fight right behind you; Red Riot is sparring with a huge, muscular villain. The red-haired hero slams the guy into the wall, but your ears are ringing from being so close to Ground Zero’s detonations that you don’t hear it. Then Ground Zero looks at you. Your eyes lock. Your heart stops. His mouth is moving, making words, and the look on his face goes from sheer confidence to panic.

The world around you starts moving again and you hear ‘Hey, LOOK OUT!’ before something slams into your head and you fall to the ground, the world going dark.

“Is he okay?”

“Fuck if I know, shitty hair, but at least the bleeding stopped.”

You blink as you come to, surroundings hazy and out of focus. Your world is a swirl of greys with splashes of red, black, orange, and yellow. Part of you wonders if it’s sunrise before your vision clears and you’re looking up into the concerned face of Red Riot, and the scowling face of Ground Zero.

Oh fuck.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? A medic team will be here shortly, and we didn’t want to move you.” The sturdy hero has concern pouring out of his tone, his eyes flicking your face for any sign of pain.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ground Zero hisses out, his eyes narrowing further than they were before.

“Bakubro, don’t be like that! He’s a civilian, he probably got trapped! He WAS right in between our fights after all!” Red Riot frowns at the blonde who is still glaring daggers at you. “You gotta work on your image man, your publicist is gonna straight up kill you one day.”

“Fuck off, Kiri.”

Your eyes are focused on Ground Zero, frowning at the anger that is radiating from him. You knew he was like this but it’s different when it’s directed at you instead of at villains or the press.

Both heroes look up as an ambulance squeals to a stop nearby, followed by police to apprehend the villains.

Red Riot immediately pops up and waves an arm. “Hey, he’s over here!”

Ground Zero is still staring at you as Kirishima gets the attention of the paramedics. Red Riot returns quickly, flanked by two more people.

“Hey, these healers can take care of you.”

One of the people holds out her hands, scanning over your horizontal body. “There appears to be no major damage, just a shallow gash to the back of the skull. It’s superficial, Nightingale can heal it without the need for stitches.” She steps back and her partner steps up next, placing a hand to the top of your head. You feel like warm water is rushing over your skull and the dull ache of pain recedes.

Red Riot gives you a relieved smile.

“He’s all set.” The medic, Nightingale, steps back and goes with her partner back to the ambulance. You sit up, automatically steadied by Riot’s large hands.

“Careful, uh...”

“(Y/N).” Your voice sounds a little raspier than usual and you wince.

“(Y/N). It’s nice to meet you! I’m Kirishima, and this is Bakugou. Can we escort you home to make sure you make it okay?”

Ground Zero’s eye daggers are now aimed at Red Riot and you hide a smile behind your hand.

“That would be great, actually.” You hope that you look calm on the outside because your heart is hammering WILDLY in your chest. Ground Zero walking you back to your apartment? Your mind races with all the ways that could end, except now he’s back to glaring daggers at you.

“Red Riot!” All three of you look up as a police officer comes over. “We need a report from you.” His eyes flick to Ground Zero, still crouched near your side, and a flash of fear shoots through them. “Ground Zero we don’t need both of you so you’re free to go.”

Ground Zero rolls his eyes and stands, the movement as graceful as a dancer. “Fine, I have shit to do anyway.”

“Yeah, like walking this one home.” Red Riot stared at his friend, Ground Zero glaring back, before the blonde hero tossed his head back with a sigh.

“Fucking FINE. Whatever. Let’s go.”

He yanks you up, ignoring Red Riot’s suggestions to be gentle. You let out a squeal of protest on your own, attempting to pull your arm back out of his gloved hand. He’s strong though, so much stronger than you ever imagined.

“Wait, Ground Zero, Ground Zero STOP!” You yank hard on your arm, stumbling back when he lets you go and whips around to face you.

“What?!”

You huff, scowling back at him. “You’re going the wrong way.”

His eyes narrow. “Well, you didn’t tell me where you fucking live.”

“I didn’t get a chance to! You just dragged me off like some fucking animal!”

“The fuck did you just say?” Ground Zero closes the distance between you two, his crimson eyes glaring into your (e/c) ones.

“I said… you dragged me off like some kind of animal.” He may be the object of all of your carnal lusts, but you were not about to be rag-dolled through the city. At least, not in this manner. You don’t flinch as he glares at you, feeling a thrill of victory as he emits a growl.

“Fucking… fine. Come on then. Which way...?” His voice is low, and you can hear the annoyance laced through it. You grin and head off in a different direction, looking behind you at the angry blonde planted on the sidewalk.

“Well come on, Red Riot will be pissed if you leave me alone.” You smirk as his scowl deepens. Since he more or less promised your safety to his partner, that left you free to push his buttons. You weren’t very happy about being yanked like that, but fuck you loved the aggression that the blonde exuded. Every scowl and squint were sending chills down your spine and you wanted to see if you could get him yelling at you before you got back to your apartment. Fuck, that would give you something to get off to for months.

“Fine.” You hear the stomping of boots following you and you can’t help the smirk pulling at your lips. This was fun. Your heart was still pounding in your chest being so close to him, talking to him, teasing him, but you liked to think that you were holding your own.

You annoyed him with chatter and banter for the whole ten-minute walk to your small apartment, easily swapping between teasing him (there’s a hole in your uniform Ground Zero, are you getting slow?) and yammering about anything and everything happening around you. Ground Zero might think it was nerves, and he wouldn’t be entirely wrong. Your nerves were firing off like sparklers, bright and heated, but it was mostly the thrill of watching the storm cloud that darkened your favorite hero’s face as you walk.

You’re twirling as you go down the sidewalk, generally making a nuisance of yourself just to annoy him further, when suddenly you’re overcome with a dizzy spell. You stop twirling and put a hand to your head, the world spinning around you as you start to fall. You hear loud boot stomps and then strong arms are wrapping around you, catching you before you hit the ground.

“Fuck, do you have no sense of self-preservation? Why would you do shit like that after you just had a head injury?” Ground Zero has you fixed with that familiar angry scowl and you smiled up at him. You feel almost drunk as you reach out and ‘boop’ the hero’s nose.

He snarls. “Which fucking apartment building is yours, you shitty fuck?” Your arm flops toward your building and he grumbles as he takes off to it, carrying you bridal-style in his arms.

Your head is lolling back and he’s cursing under his breath. “Fuck. Which apartment? Where are your keys?” Your hand slips into your pocket and lazily fishes out your keys, promptly dropping them on the ground. Ground Zero curses again and crouches easily to pick them up. Your fuzzy brain has it together enough to be impressed that he’s able to squat and snatch your keys from the pavement like you weigh nothing. So strong. Swoon.

Ground Zero carries you effortlessly up the stairs to the third floor. Luckily your apartment number is on a tag on your key, so it takes him no time to find it. You aren’t really paying attention as he unlocks your door and swings it open, stepping into your home. You feel him pause, his eyes sweeping the area. You live alone and your home is small, but it’s cozy and you love it.

He spots a mass of pillows by the window in the main room and decides that is the best place to lay you. You squirm on the pile of squishy pillows and trying to make yourself comfortable; all the while Ground Zero watches you with a scowl. He knows for a damn fact that if he leaves you before you’re coherent that Kirishima will have his hide, so he’s trapped here until you wake up. Great.

He might as well try to find your bathroom and some medication, you’re bound to have a headache when you wake up fully. There’s only one door off the space you’re both currently in, so without hesitation he crosses to it and moves to open it. You open one eye in time to see Ground Zero’s hand wrap around the knob to your bedroom and you squeak out a weak protest, but the door opens. He stands in the doorway, frozen.

“...What the fuck is this.”

Shit. Now you were in for it. You try to pull yourself up, fighting the dizziness in an attempt to defuse the situation. You knew exactly what he was looking at. Your bedroom was absolutely covered in Ground Zero merch, both official and unofficial. You rise and shakily make your way to him. “Ground Zero, ah, don’t…”

He whirls on you, eyes narrowed. “You weren’t trapped between our fights. You came specifically to watch me.” It’s not a question and your cheeks color as you nod.

He inhales and turns from you, stepping into your bedroom and looking around at the amount of stuff. Posters, figurines, plush pillows that look like his grenade gauntlets. His eyes sweep your bed and pause at the elongated shape hidden under the blankets. Without asking for permission he rips back the black and orange comforter and you gasp as he reveals a body pillow of himself.

“Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?” Luckily it’s on the tame side and not the lewd side.

Then Ground Zero flips the pillow over. He looks at you with raised eyebrows. Your face floods with heat and you turn you turn away from him; missing the cocky smirk that graces his lips for a split second.

“If you have this so brazenly in your bed, what the fuck else are you hiding in here?”

You eke out another protest as he prowls around to the other side of your bed, zeroing in on a pair of doors. He opens the first, but it’s your small bathroom. The blonde hero shoots you a look and closes it, then grins as he opens the other one.

“People always hide weird shit in their closets…” He rips the door open and instead of a quick look like he did in the bathroom, he begins pulling your hanging clothes to the side, checking the floor, sweeping his hands on the shelf. He finds the thing you’re dreading quickly – a small box shoved in the corner of your highest shelf. “Hmm. Looks suspicious.”

He pops it open with a smirk that quickly vanishes, and you want to sink into the floor and die. You know exactly what’s in the box, and there’s a reason it’s hidden where it is.

Ground Zero holds up the bondage harness as you watch, mortified, his eyes sweeping the black and orange straps. "Is this... is this official merch? I'm going to kill my entire marketing team."

"No. I, um..." You swallow, averting your eyes as your cheeks flush. "I made it."

Ground Zero stares at you for a second, then a grin slowly curls up the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? You made it?"

You nod. "There's, um. There’re matching arm binders that look like your gauntlets. And leg binders that look like your boots." You risk raising your eyes to look at him and you feel the breath knocked out of you at the hungry, feral look in his eyes.

"Put it on then.” His grin widens as he throws the harness at you.

You catch it, acting more out of reflex than anything. “What?!”

“If you're so desperate for my cock. Fucking earn it."

He casually fishes out the arm and leg restraints, looking them over the way he looked at the harness. “You fucking heard me. If you want it, you have to work for it.” Crimson eyes flick to you. “Especially after the way you fucking teased me the whole walk here.”

Teased him? I mean yeah, you were a little sassy, but… your eyes widen in understanding. He likes the sass. That made you look at all his glares and glances in a new light, and… Your eyes flick to the heat in them now. Fuck were you in for it, and fuck were you all about it.

“I’m not going to say it again. Put. It. On.”

You look at Ground Zero as you stand in your underwear, and he motions to the small garments. Your face heats up as you slowly slide those off too. At his raised brow you pick up the harness, carefully stepping into it.

“I uh, I can’t put this on by myself. It’s why I’ve never worn it before.” Your face flushes, the harness straps hanging from your frame. Ground Zero shifts his weight, moving like a cat stalking prey. He slowly walks around you, reaching out for the straps, and pulling them tightly into place.

“So, I’m the only one to see you like this, hah?” His voice is low and rumbling, hot like raked coals.

You shudder and nod.

He pulls the strap he’s tying tighter and leans into your ear. “Good. It had better fucking stay that way.” The words spike directly to your core and you groan, immediately moving to slap a hand over your mouth. He just chuckles darkly and finishes tightening the straps, and you look down on yourself. The harness is very nice, if you do say so yourself. You can’t help but feel a little proud of your handiwork.

Then you notice Ground Zero holding the arm and leg binders and grinning.

You immediately start to shake your head, but he just grins wider. “Ah ah, you made them, you must be dying to try them out.”

You’re only semi-surprised at the skill and nimbleness that he displays locking you into the binders, and you wonder if this is something he does regularly. Your arms are twisted behind your back and locked into place, and Ground Zero guides you down to the floor so he can use the leg binders to keep you in a kneeling position. It’s a good thing he has those huge knee pads on his hero outfit – they provide an excellent cushion from your hardwood floor. You’re glad you included them.

You roll your eyes back in your head at the flavor – he tastes like rich caramel. The scent rises off him now that his hands are so close to your face. You’re vaguely aware that it has something to do with his quirk, and that the nitroglycerin he sweats can be toxic, but you’re way too into him being in your mouth to care. He grasps your chin with his fingertips, holding your jaw in place from the inside. You give a small whine, closing your lips to suck on his thumb.

“Greedy little slut, aren’t you?” He pulls the thumb out and wipes your saliva on your cheek. “You know, that body pillow you got there? It’s fucking wrong.” He smirks a little, hooking the thumb that was in your mouth through a belt loop. “I bet you want to see the real thing, don’t you? You’re dying for it. I can see it in your eyes.” You whimper and nod, your eyes immediately going to the crotch of his pants. “Well too bad. I’m not done looking through your shit.”

You let out a much louder whine as he turns away from you.

“Let’s see now. I’ve already checked the closet, how about… in here?” He moves to your nightstand and yanks open a drawer, but all that’s in it are a few odds and ends. He gives you a scowl and slams it closed before pulling open the second one. That one yields much more fruitful results, and you feel like your face can’t get any hotter as Ground Zero lifts out a ball gag colored like a grenade, and a blindfold in the shape of his mask. He gives you a very direct look before carefully laying the items on your bed, then dives back in. Next, he comes out with a thin paddle made of wood with a slab of rubber on it, the rubber looking like a boot imprint.

“What the fuck is this?” He squints at the tread, then lifts his own boot and looks at it. “Is this my fucking boot print? How the fuck did you even get this?”

“Someone… after a fight in your district, someone made a casting of your boot print in the dirt. I uh, I bought it and cast the rubber to make a spanking paddle… with your boot tread on it.” You swallow a little. “I’m glad to know it’s authentic.” You give a tiny, nervous chuckle.

He stares at you for a second and then drops the paddle on the bed.

“You filthy fucking bitch. You just want me to walk all over you.” There’s definitely a vein of arousal in his voice, and when he turns you can see that the crotch of his pants is tighter than it was when he was standing in front of you. He shifts through the rest of the drawer, casually putting a bottle of lube on top of the night stand.

Your breath intakes sharply as Ground Zero returns up from the floor, holding a sizeable black and orange dildo. “Did you fuckin’ make this too?” He’s catching on that all your sex toys are in his trademark black and orange.

You shake your head. “Commission,” you squeak out.

“Ah, you keep my dildo right under your bed, hah? Has to be in easy reach so you can stuff yourself as soon as you need to feel my cock in you?”

Your breath intakes harshly at the words. “Yes.”

He stares at you with hard eyes for a second. “…Fuck.”

He stands, eyes drilling into you as he pulls off his boots. Next go his gauntlets, clattering to the floor, followed by his top, and despite the fact that you’ve seen his naked chest countless times in either battle damaged costumes or professional photo shoots, you’re not prepared for the real thing.

You make a hiccup-y gasp, and his grin goes feral.

“Be a good boy and don’t move.” He closes the distance between you and easily scoops you into his arms, placing you on the bed with your back facing him. He glances at the hardwood floor where you were originally sitting. “Tch. Haven’t even fucking touched you and you’re already making a fucking mess.” He gestures at the floor where a small pool of liquid betrays how turned on you already are. You feel a slight sliver of shame but it’s heavily outweighed by the sheer force of your arousal.

You watch as Ground Zero, now stripped of everything but pants and socks, moves behind you again. Hands reach out and caress your sides, softer than you thought the blonde was capable of. You moan, trying to arch your back in the tight bindings. You hear a chuckle behind you and then clothed hips are grinding into your ass, the feather soft finger tips now grabbing your waist hard enough to leave bruises. You cry out, pushing your ass back into the hips, and are rewarded with a soft groan as the cleft of your ass encompasses the hard dick in Ground Zero’s pants. Your eyes widen – he wasn’t kidding, your body pillow did him no justice.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing? I didn’t say you could have that yet.” He smacks the round globe of your ass with his hand, then releases you.

You pant in need, trying to push your hips back again, desperately trying to feel his length against your body again. He makes his ‘tch’ noise and you bite your lip. You can feel him move behind you, then his arm comes in to view and he’s grabbing the boot paddle. Your breath hitches in your throat as the wooden handle slowly drags backwards across your messy bed. He’s going this slowly on purpose, you know it. He wants you to anticipate what’s coming.

You freeze as you feel the ridged rubber slide sensually across your ass.

“You ever use this before?” Ground Zero is practically purring behind you.

“N-no.” Your breath leaves you in another shaky hiccup.

“Why the fuck not?” The boot tread continues to rub across your flesh as Ground Zero’s voice gets a little angry.

“No one was good enough b-but you.”

The tread stops and you hear a breathy ‘fuck’ behind you before the blonde hero is pulling his arm back and snapping it forward again. The rubber tread of the boot slams into your cheek and you cry out. It didn’t hurt as badly as you expected – maybe it was the thickness of the boot. Either way, it was the perfect opening.

“T-that all you got, Ground Zero?” Your breath is coming out harsh, but you make damn sure that he can hear the antagonistic tone in your voice.

You hear a growl behind you and the boot flies down again, this time you can feel the bite of the tread marks in your ass. You hope it is going to leave an imprint.

“Hah, I t-thought you were strong, Ground Zero.”

You tense as you hear an aggressive snarl and feel a quick movement behind you, followed by the sound of glass shattering. You’re able to glance to your left and see the broken remains of your table lamp on the floor next to the paddle.

You’re a little annoyed, until you hear his quirk spark to life behind you, and your heart stops again.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat, hah? Just gotta be fucking mouthy? Well if you like my quirk so much, let’s see how you can handle it.”

The sparking sound intensifies, and you’re barely able to hold your breath before Ground Zero’s hand slaps against your cheek. Oh, oh FUCK yes. This is what you want. The sting is enough to bring tears to your eyes and it radiates across your flesh like fire. You can’t hold back your moan, and you lean forward more to present your ass better. He gives you a matching slap on the other side.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Twin slaps to both sides again. He keeps going, hands still ignited, more and more until you’re sobbing, and he can see the outline of his handprint reddening your ass. “Fucking perfect.” He grins and places one more playful slap, your hips bucking in response.

Ground Zero moves to the front, grabbing your jaw in his hands roughly. “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation, and he grabs the ball gag with his free hand. His crimson eyes investigate your mouth for a few beats, and you take the chance to admire how handsome his face is. He is still wearing his mask, and there’s soft grey streaks from his battle on his neck and cheek. Then he leans forward a little and you wonder for a second if he is going to kiss you, but before you can close your mouth, he spits into it and stuffs the ball gag in.

“Good boy,” he purrs, tying the gag around your head. He smirks as he moves behind you again. You’re shivering in anticipation of what he’s going to do next.

The ball gag prevents your loud moan as your ass cheeks are separated and his tongue licks a long strip from your ballsack to your asshole. He doesn’t speak, he just starts to circle his tongue around the rim of your ass, inching the fingers of his right hand closer while keeping your cheeks spread. You fall forward as he hikes your hips up, just able to turn your head to prevent your face from pressing directly into the mattress. Your eyes are rolling in the back of your head as he fucks his tongue in and out of your hole, growling softly at the whimpers you’re making that are muffled by the gag stuffing your mouth. He stops suddenly, mouth and hands disappearing from your skin, and you let out a high-pitched whine at the loss of contact.

He slowly works you open, watches you swallow his digit eagerly, his erection straining against the pants of his hero costume. You rock your hips back into him, your eagerness clear on your face as you pant around the ball gag. You choke out another muffled moan as he adds a second finger, hips rocking back harder. You need more, you need him to fill you. He lets a third finger slip it, scissoring all three to stretch the tight ring of muscle.

“Mm, yeah. Gotta stretch you open so you can take my cock, right?” You give a high-pitched groan, unable to control yourself as the thought of taking his cock sends you over the edge. You ride through your orgasm on his fingers, eyes squeezed closed, and he stops moving them. “Did you already cum just from the thought of it? Damn, you really are desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” You can hear the ego in his voice, and he removes his fingers. This is it. You’re gonna get to cum on Ground Zero’s dick.

You feel the blunt head prodding at your entrance, but it feels strangely cold. You open your eyes and Ground Zero’s wearing a cocky grin, pants still zipped up, with the head of your dildo breaching you. You pout, or at least you pout as best as you can with your gag in your mouth, and the hero laughs. His grin is almost maniacal as he twists his wrist, watching your ass swallow the black and orange toy. Your pout doesn’t last long because the feeling of being stretched has you groaning again, pushing back against it, trying to take it further. He stops once the toy is bottomed out inside you.

“Stay,” he murmurs, and then reaches for the buckle of his pants. You hover there, eyes locked on the movements of his hands, your mouth already open and salivating. He moves slow, watching your face with an intense hunger. He pulls the pants off, sliding them down his muscular thighs, and kicking them off. His boxer briefs are straining to hold his erection and there is a damp spot where the head is, betraying how much your reactions are affecting him.

He palms his own cock through his underwear, smirking down at you. “Do you think you’ve earned this?” His voice is low, dark. Your nose is filled with the scent of caramel again and you nod. “Are you sure? I’m not.” His fingers slowly wrap around his shaft, pressing the outline out harder through his underwear. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Ground Zero, I need it, I need you, please just fuck me!” you immediately plead. Your body is squirming, and you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue flat and looking up at him. He bites his lip and pulls his underwear down, his cock bobbing just out of reach of your mouth.

“Keep your mouth open.” His voice is a low rumble and he holds his dick by the base, rubbing the head across your tongue and lower lip, smearing his precum on your skin. He doesn’t quite taste like caramel here, not like his hands and not like he smells, but he does taste sweet. You moan softly, enjoying the flavor, fighting all your instincts to not close your mouth and take him in as far as he can go. “Fuck, good boy. Good boy.” He presses his cock in, slowly, until it reaches the back of your throat. “Close your mouth.”

You moan and do as your told, immediately curling your tongue around the shaft and sucking deep. He chokes out a moan and the sound sends a spike of arousal to your core, making you clench around the toy. He gently pumps his hips, sliding in and out for a few strokes. One hand caresses the top of your head and your heart flips at the tender treatment, but then he grins and tangles his hand roughly into your hair, snapping his hips harder. He starts to fuck your face in earnest, using his hand in your hair as an anchor to keep you in place. You start to take quick breaths in between his thrusts, trying to relax your throat so he can fuck into it. You’re rewarded by a loud moan the first time he does, his hips stuttering as he rocks back and forth in your throat. He pulls his cock out of your mouth, rubs your lips with it, and then shoves it right back in.

“Fuck yeah.” His motions are fluid and graceful, he fucks like he battles. He’s gives you no time to swallow as he snaps his hips in and out, your saliva pooling and running down your chin every time he pulls them back. He finally pulls out one last time, holding himself at the base and looking down at your messy face.

Without looking, Ground Zero reaches into the drawer and retrieves a line of small packets. He rips one off the line and looks at it, then rolls his eyes back. “Okay, I know you didn’t make these.” You give him a shaky smile, still covered in your own drool, as he stares at the condom packet’s slogan. ‘BAKU BRAND: Reliable enough for your biggest explosions!’

He shrugs and rips open the condom, moving around to the back again. He rubs a hand over the print he left on your ass before slowly pulling out your dildo and lining himself up to take its place. He lets his hands crackle with his quirk as he slams his hips in, and suddenly you’re stuffed full with Ground Zero’s cock, and it’s like a dream come true. The hero immediately starts a brutal pace, shoving your face forward into the mattress with every thrust. You cry out with each pump, and it only takes a handful before you’re clamping down around his cock again, shooting cum into your blankets for the second time.

“Nngh, FUCK! You’re so tight. That’s right, cum on my cock.” His voice sounds harsh, like he’s losing control as he keeps pounding into you. His fingertips are digging into your hips again, definitely bruising, as he yanks you back into him. He slams into you one last time with a hoarse shout and you know he’s cumming. His hand reaches around to squeeze your neglected cock and that small pressure and the thought that Ground Zero was cumming in you was enough to get you off one last time, your walls clamping a little weaker around him than the first two times. He holds there for a moment, holding you up as you sag on the bed. He slips out and you hear the snap of rubber as he removes the condom.

“Damn,” he sighs, smacking your ass a little more playfully once more, “That was good. You freaky little shit.”

His footsteps leave the room.

He’s back a moment later, undoing the bindings of the restraints. Your body sinks into your bed in exhaustion and you follow him with your eyes as he moves into your bathroom. You hear your bath water running and blink as Ground Zero steps back into your bedroom, then back out of it into the main area. He’s walking around like he owns the place, and if you could move your body at all you’d say something about it.

He comes back again and lifts you into his arms, carrying you the same way he did on the way in to your apartment.

“Here.” He holds a glass of water to your lips and tilts it. You look at him, confused, as you sip from the glass. “Good. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He carries you into your bathroom, holding you until the water fills halfway. You think he brushes his lips across your temple as he waits but you feel so out of it that you aren’t entirely sure. Once the level is acceptable he is carefully lowering you into the half-filled bath. You hiss at the hot water and he immediately adjusts the temperature. He leaves the glass on the floor. “Keep drinking that. Don’t fucking drown.”

He leaves the room again.

The warmth is seeping into your bones and you’re feeling drowsy. You’re not sure how long you spend drifting in and out, but you aren’t aware when Ground Zero comes back in.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, and you open your eyes, blinking at him with a small smile. “Lean forward so I can wash your hair.” You lean forward as best as you can, assisted by the hero’s hands more than you actually do yourself. You’re able to hold yourself up by bracing your arms on the sides of the tub, and you hear the pop of a bottle as Ground Zero opens your shampoo. Then his hands card through your hair. You can’t help but let a small moan slip from the relaxing sensation. He’s being so much gentler than you thought he was capable of, especially after how rough he’d just been.

He rinses your hair then carefully washes you with your body soap.

“Get some pajamas. Don’t put them on yet.” Gentle or not his tone still leaves no room for disobedience, and you pull out a pair of boy shorts (Ground Zero ones, obviously) and a black tank top to leave on your bed. Ground Zero himself comes back out from your bathroom with the glass you didn’t finish and some aspirin. “Take this and finish the fucking water like I already said to.”

You take the pills and sip on the water, watching him sleepily. He’s rifling through his pants pockets, still in his underwear, and pulls out a small green tube. “Alright, lay on your stomach.” He rolls his eyes at the look you give him. “No, not for sex, this is fucking aloe vera. If I don’t put it on your ass it’ll burn for a week.” He does give you a smirk at that, and you place the water on your nightstand so you can crawl onto your bed and lay on your stomach. His rough hands soothingly rub the aloe into your abused skin, and you can’t help drifting off to sleep again. There’s no sass left, only satisfaction. This time though, you don’t wake up when he’s done. You vaguely feel yourself being shifted around, carefully dressed, and tucked into bed. You feel the push of something warm, soft, and sweet onto your mouth and you wonder if you’re dreaming about him kissing you.

When you do wake up it’s almost the afternoon the following day. You’re dressed in the pajamas you picked out and tucked tightly into your bed. You sit up, still feeling sore, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining the whole of last night. It wouldn’t be the first time you had a dream like that, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Pity you didn’t wake up next to him, though. You ease out of bed and stretch, popping your back a little, before shuffling into the kitchen. On your counter top there’s an envelope. You tilt your head and slowly grab it, pulling it open. Inside is paper yen and a note. You pull the note out and open it.

“There’s food in the fridge. Make sure you fucking eat it. Cash is for the lamp I broke.”

You smile a little and skim further down the page for more writing. Your eyes widen at the phone number, but you about drop the paper at what’s scribbled underneath it. “For when you want to be a brat again. Maybe if you’re good, next time will be a creampie.

- GZ”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x female reader #bakugou x male reader #bakugou x nonbi reader #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine #mha smut #mha imagine #bnha smut #bnha imagine #dom bakugou #dom!bakugou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my writing

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finn-ray-nal-beads · 4 years

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Ooh this just made my heart race 🥺 from the writing prompt list: Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath. For whoever 🥺

HOLY MOLY I AM SO SORRY THAT TOOK ME ALL DAY. I HAVE BEEN SO FUCKIN’ BUSY JEEZ.

i put together a little oneshot with our dearly beloved lumberjack my babe. i really hope you like it!

(also this doesn’t mean requests are open, but if i like the prompt i will write something about it.)

Warnings: FLUFF OUT THE ASSHOLE, mentions of war, slight depression, and a tiny bit of angst, violence (in the form of self-defense, well kind of)

Laughter filled the modest three-bedroom home you shared with Flip. Fingers twirled around a ridiculously long phone cord as you chatted with your long-distance girlfriend, Katie. It was nice to finally be able to relax in the empty house you both had shared for the five years you’d been married. And almost two years since Flip had been sent away to the war.

You tried to busy yourself with work as a night shift nurse, taking every possible spot you could to stay out of the house. It was too hard to be there when he wasn’t. His scent of cigarettes and pine soap disappeared months ago, and it left you empty inside.

Sure you both wrote the occasional letter when he was able to send them over. And you gathered care package goods to ship over so he’d still feel like he was home, or so you’d imagined he would when he opened the items. Everything was just… different. You hated to admit it, but it was difficult to function without your handsome man at your side.

He was your protector, your love, your everything. Your other half of your soul was thousands of miles away, fighting in a war he never asked to be in. The existential dread fell over you whenever you laid down to shut your eyes. You didn’t even speak it out loud, because you believed in karma, and only thought the best you could when it came to those dark moments thinking about his safety.

You pleaded with whatever entity that he’d come home safe and in one whole piece. That he would make it out of there unscathed and never have to go back. You cried and cried over the time lost between the both of you. Bargaining that if he came back, you’d finally start that family you and he had been talking about for several years. You’d vow to spend way more than just a few hours each night together, cut down on work, and all the other larger than life assurances you would whisper into the darkness. Pleading all of this into the night for his perfect face to hold again, to kiss and taste.

______________

Today, though, was a different kind of day. You woke up out of your king-sized bed to the streams of gorgeous morning light shining through the window. For the first time in what felt like years, you smiled and stretched your limbs. Crawling out of bed you hurried to put on your furriest robe and comb your hair. Then meandered downstairs to your kitchen to make some fresh coffee. It was your day off from a long 60+ hour week and you needed the rest more than you could fathom.

Your plans were simple. Shower, start some laundry, make a grocery list, sit and read, and possibly call your mother if you had the time. You sat to enjoy your morning Joe and read the daily paper, making sure to do the crossword puzzle just as you did every morning.

During your fourth sip of sweet caffeine, a phone call came in. You answered and immediately beamed at your long time pal who sang your name over the phone. The laughter ensued and you found yourselves talking for nearly an hour or more if you’d bothered to look at the time. And now here you were giggling like a schoolgirl with her totally oblivious to the taxi that had parked in front of your home.

__________________

You jumped as you heard the front door creak open.

“Hold on, Katie,” you placed the phone on the counter, grabbing the sharpest knife from the block next to the stove. Ready to attack this intruder who seemingly broke the lock on your front door. A thud reverberated through the living room followed by what sounded like boots.

“H-hello?” you asked the lumbering faceless figure in your foyer. “Don’t test me, asshole!” you yelled in what you thought was a warning tone.

The figure huffed. “You know your tough-girl voice isn’t really that convincing babe.”

It’s deep familiar tone echoed from the dark corner. The figure shuffled around the large bag it had dropped and came into the bright living room. He looked so exhausted. Dressed in his army green uniform. Dark locks perfectly feathered his dotted face. Glistening eyes upon hearing your shrill threatening voice from the kitchen.

“Hey honey,” he whispered. You stood there dumbfounded in your PJs. Not really knowing if that was actually him on the other side of the room.

Just as you registered that fact he, closed the gap between you and wrapped his huge arms around your waist. You dropped the knife to the ground and your empty hands found the back of his head, messing up his perfectly set hair. You inhaled his camel cigarettes and sobbed into his crisp uniform. Hugging him tighter and tighter as you heaved in and out.

“U-hmm honey…” he spoke into the crook of your neck, no doubt sobbing silently too.

“You’re kinda chokin’ me out,” he gasped and tickled your sides.

“God you asshole,” you choked out wiping tears away. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too honey. More than you know,” he sobbed again hiding his face back into your chest. You began to cry too petting his perfect strands again.

“I can’t believe you’re home Phil,” you whispered, kissing his crown.

“Yeah baby,” he stammered into your sternum.

“I’m home.”

__________

god i hope this was halfway decent, Desi. you write so well and i didn’t want to disappoint at all!

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman fluff #adam driver #black klansman #desiraypark #flip zimmerman one shot #adam driver fic #adam driver fan fiction #flip zimmerman x female reader #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman request

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ilkkawhat · 3 years

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Any tips for first time writers? Specifically any tips and tricks for writing CSI stories and the Nick/Greg ship? Trying to stay in character and make the story interesting like a show episode instead of a boring text procedural is hard.

lmao as someone who is forever insecure about my own writing when it comes to keeping the characters in character, I think something to keep in mind is that you may view a character differently than someone else--and sometimes those views align with others, and most of the time it's better than what's presented in canon, and it can be really difficult to get confident about that, but I think that creating anything, even if it's not just writing--drawing, giffing, photo edits, etc, you do know and love that character enough to bring them to life under your hands and it's something that's just so like, poetic about keeping these characters alive, even if the show offed them or the show is cancelled, in these works (honestly the song "poet" by bastille says this best imo) and you may end up discovering parts of yourself as you explore these characters in depth, you'll learn more about them, too, and the more you write, the more confidence you will gain

but be weary of the validation trap (says someone who falls into it literally every time I post a fic)--do not rely on comments and feedback to let you know you're doing it "right." the fact that you're getting thoughts into words onto paper is good enough, and you are good enough and even if you don't end up sharing it, you still did something special that nobody else has done before, and that, is amazing!

I'm not gonna lie, a huge weakness of mine that I feel I've known ever since I started writing CSI fic is that I really don't do well in making cases for the CSIs to work on--and even when I do, the case is usually forgotten by the end of the fic and I end up just kinda focusing on the emotions between the characters and describing their feelings and actions the best I can and unfortunately the plot sometimes suffers because of that.

I guess it really depends on what you want out of your story--do you want a really intriguing case and basically make an episode of CSI, or do you want to kind of bend out of the procedural drama, and just write something fluffy like Nick/Greg going on a roadtrip or something actiony like them getting into some sort of trouble? (as I often do lmao)

Something that does always help me when I do decide I want an actual like, "plot" to the fic beyond just playing around with the characters and making them do things or experience things is that I'll make myself a very flexible outline--which I will admit, at times, does kinda drain the fun out of the actual writing part but I found that I'll try to write chapters/fics in segments in this way, like I'll have the start of a fic, and then when I feel like I need to break but want to write what I got going next, I'll have something in brackets like: [Self deprecation at home/drinking, evil Nick in the mirror?] (for agony), and sometimes maybe a bigger summary, and sometimes less to just kinda remind myself of what I wanted to accomplish with a fic

BUT know that there are gonna be things that pop up sometimes. twists that come to you halfway through a fic--or if you're lucky, you'll find that your reader friends will kinda give you a twist to add in (my fic Last Breath is the greatest example of this--I originally was gonna do like, 12 chapters but then @dannilea said "HEY MK GIVE NICK AMNESIA" and then the fic got doubled in length lmao) so don't feel confined to any sort of outline. go with the flow, go with what feels right for you.

I know it's a lesson I'm still learning myself, but do not pressure yourself with these sorts of things. there are no deadlines. you're not doing anything wrong. if you don't like something you wrote? don't delete it (i've deleted so many things--fics, my entire blog, old art and gifs I did and it's one of my biggest regrets that I carry with me and god...it just hurts) but don't be afraid to tweak, re-write or rework if you need to--I know ao3 has an option where you can even say something is a "remix" of another work if you write a fic and then somewhere down the line, decide to expand on it or change it up? (I think it's meant for that at least, I haven't done that sort of thing....yet)

and that's another thing--you'll always be learning new things as you keep writing. I've been writing since I was like, twelve years old. Had a long ass depressive gap (though I did still write some things, just not...as intensely as I used to) before I came back to the CSI fandom (which I never felt I contributed to before, when I joined tumblr I posted some caps but that was about it, it really wasn't until 2018 that I started giffing and writing and three years later lmao here we are!) and there are just hard lessons you do learn--like I said, the validation trap and pressure and all of that

but motivation wise, something I've been (trying) to do is write at least 100 words per day. Doesn't have to be a specific fic, doesn't have to be anything I intend to make a fic, but just...getting the words flowing. But again, no pressure, because I recently had another depressive bout and went 33 days without writing and it climaxed to me having another mental breakdown swearing I was never gonna write again and damn near deleting everything and giving up.........only to start writing again the next day (and full disclosure, I did have a friend helping me literally every day with that and if they read this, I hope they know how forever grateful I am that they convinced me to keep going and I would not actually be here without them)

You will need to recharge, you will need to be mindful of outside stresses that may be impacting your creative energies. And sometimes, you can try doing things not relating to writing at all. Make a playlist of songs that make you think about the fic; if you can, draw or make photo edits of the fic. find a friend to bounce ideas off of--so many of my fics were enriched by that, I can't even begin to list them all lol.

But above all, again, just know that what you're writing is unique to you, nobody else will be able to write the way you do, and that is just...so special. writing can be difficult, it's exhausting, it's a thankless job at times but when those words start clicking together and your fingers just keep typing/writing, you'll just kinda get this like, rush like nothing I've ever been able to match.

and lmao I know you said specifically CSI and Nick/Greg and feel like I got sidetracked--but the great thing about CSI is I feel like you'll have excuses to put them in situations given their line of work, but like I said before, you can bend out of the genre a little bit. Have Nick and Greg go on a vacation, or make an AU (even something as wild as a sci-fi AU--honestly Specimen Stokes is the most fun I've had in writing the past three years) or if you do want to stick to canon, and don't want to make a whole new case or elaborate on the details--play with an established episode. If there was a Nick focused episode, what was Greg doing and vice versa? Did they talk about things afterwards, or did something happen leading up to the episode that made them act a certain way around each other?

I'll honestly find inspiration also just watching the episodes--something I've been doing in these past few months of my rewatch is making little ficlets about the episode, like I wrote one about Nick and Greg post 6x02 elaborating on the breathplay that Greg hinted about earlier in the episode, or I made a revenge fic for 14x12 where that douchey abusive husband went after Nick, etc. So sometimes it helps to dive back into canon and play in that sandbox too

I hope these tips can help get you started and honestly, don't feel obligated to agree or do any of these things I listed above. We all have different ways of going about writing, and it is just one big learning process and something I don't think I'm ever gonna perfect or master in any sort of way--(not to say I think I'm the worst writer in the world but I just...try to humble myself and not believe I'm the best or better than anybody else cause that's part of the validation trap, you get those ideas in your head and then it can destroy you when you realize you're definitely not)--and there will be times you get heavily discouraged, but...you just gotta keep going. keep pushing. find outside encouragement, but don't rely on it. practice a lot of self care and don't pressure yourself to finish or share or write more than you think you can. just...let it come, and enjoy the ride

I honestly feel like I'm one of the least qualified to say all of these things, but I really do hope it helps and hey, you already got one cheerleader, me, who will be excited to read whatever you share!

#writing #(does this novel of advice count towards my word count goal 😂 jk i already hit it)#mk talks

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lipstickbisous · 4 years

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the lion and her sun. (4)

LOST LANNISTER PRINCESS

notes: so far, every chapter has ended with aurane rejecting oberyn sooo. and yeah some facts abt this might wrong but hey..

we gon pretend like dahlia’s exist in this universe.

and the dress she wears during her walk is très similar to the pink one shae wears in ‘the lion and the rose’. this is for lack of a better picture. (except the dress is orange)

i wrote this while watching the prisoner of azkaban.

none of that matters, but it’s important to me that you know that.

- john mulaney.

ALSO updates might be a little slower now, we’re having HUGE wifi problems at our house but i will definitely keep writing!

pairing: oberyn x oc!reader

summary: on her last day before the married life, aurane’s emotions start to change.

word count: 6.5k

masterlist

the week was coming to an end, much to aurane’s dismay. for the past three days, she had much to think about and do. her walk with oberyn had thoughts racing around in her head when she had gone to sleep that night. even resting naked against the silk sheets, her pillow pressed to her face with her sprawled out behind her head and her eyes gently shut, memories of the gardens and the prince were floating about, refusing aurane’s begs to go so she could ease into unconsciousness.

when her father had spoken of the sudden and upsetting news to aurane, cersei had spoken of how the dornish would be obligated to use the youngers lannister anyway they wanted.

“they’ll humiliate her, torture her,” aurane’s dear sister spoke. “you’re going to send her off to her death. a lamb for slaughter.”

now, as aurane watched the sun rise with the silk sheets pulled up to cover her bare breasts, she wondered if her sister, cersei lannister, who had never been wrong about anything, had seriously misjudged the martell family. the princess hadn’t been in the city to meet the common people yet and she hoped that they would be exactly like the royals of sunspear.

she could hear the bustling of early-rising maidens attending to their chores outside of her door. the child inside of aurane couldn’t wait to see what breakfast she would be brought this morning.

it must’ve been hours since she had risen from her sleep because the sun now sat in its throne in the sky and there was a knock on the door. “i have your breakfast, your grace.” a sweet voice spoke but the unfamiliar accent made it hard to decipher.

“come in,” aurane spoke, pulling up two of her pillows against the headboard of her bed and leaning her back towards them. it might’ve been the way she had slept but there was ache throughout her spine. the girl who walked in could’ve been no older than aurane. her hair was curly and frizzy and her skin a light brown. her lips were perfectly shaped and her nose curved into a more rounded one. the girl set down the tray of food at the table near aurane’s window, but before she could set out the plate, cutlery, and goblet, aurane spoke. “forgive me, but i don’t think you’ve ever served me before.”

the girl nodded and curtsied. “my name is dyanna,” she said.

“and where are you from,” aurane questioned before sitting back up and pushing herself off of the bed she’d found more comfortable than any other. along with her she took the silk sheets and held them against her chest so they covered her breasts, stomach, and ass. she sat at her table and smiled when seeing that breakfast that morning consisted of fresh bread, butter and jam, berries, and more orange juice. “dyanna.”

aurane’s interest in a someone of lower-class was unusual for any maiden to experience, even in dorne. “i’m from meereen, your grace.” before aurane could pop a grape into her mouth or slice off a thin piece of bread, she grinned.

“meereen?” she questioned, to which dyanna nodded. aurane set the grape down on her plate and sighed, the smile still lingering. “i’ve never met someone from essos.”

dyanna smiled with her hands held together. “no?” aurane shook her head before finishing half of her orange juice. in the past few days, it the only thing other than wine that aurane could drink. new flavors were being brought to her with every meal and the lannister princess couldn’t get enough.

“no. my father always kept me in the red keep,” she divulged, smearing butter onto a slice of bread and jam on half of it. “tell me, dyanna of meereen,” aurane inquired before biting down on a small piece of bread. the crust was crunchy in her mouth and the jam, the sweetness of strawberries and sugar, contrasted the tecture. “if my knowledge of geography is correct, meereen is just on slaver’s bay.”

it was hesitant, but dyanna nodded silently in response. when aurane kept eating, popping a berry in her mouth between every other bite, she confessed, “i was born a slave and raised into it, your grace,” the princess sat back, leaving her loaf of bread on the plate along with the few berries left. her gaze softened, showing that she was listening, as her eyes focused on the sea. “i was sold to sunspear and sent to work for prince doran but he freed me.”

slavery had never been something that aurane had first-hand witnessed but her beliefs on it remained negative, unlike her sister and father, who couldn’t have cared less about those born lower than them. it was always a flaw that aurane had seen. “so, you’re a free woman,” aurane looked to the coffered ceiling and clutched her goblet of juice in her hand. “but you choose to work as a maiden?”

dyanna only shrugged, her posture remaining ideal. “what could i do?”

aurane laughed before sipping the rest of her drink and setting it down next to her half-full plate. “you could own a stand in the market. or work at one at least,” aurane sat back in her seat, mindlessly letting the sheets slip a bit, revealing the top of her breast. “collect enough money to buy your own place, or...” dyanna looked up in interest and aurane smirked. “purchase your own land.”

the maiden laughed and shook her head. aurane had then finished her breakfast and felt the breeze of the dornish mornings through the strands of her hair. “i’m fine here, your grace.” aurane kindly nodded as dyanna took the tray in her arms and sighed. before leaving the bedroom and closing the door, she piped up, “oh, your grace, forgive me. i forgot to mention it, but prince oberyn has told me to inform you that he would like another walk...before the wedding.”

dyanna then shut the door behind her before aurane could smile in silence. for the short time she’d been awake that morning, the princess hadn’t once thought anything about her marriage. dorne had entranced aurane and fabricated an entire sort of bliss in her mind.

there wasn’t much to do that day anyway. the wedding was already planned and she’d already worn the wedding dress to have it sized perfectly--during which aurane had been poked with needles twice but brush it off when the maiden apologized mercifully.

another stroll around the gardens, even if it was with the prince, didn’t sound so bad.

this time, aurane had worn an outfit less revealing than her last one. she’d spent an afternoon one day diving through her dresser and wardrobes to see what exactly oberyn had given her. most were two-piece outfits that aurane didn’t see herself comfortable with wearing just yet, but others were fine dresses made of soft and translucent linens. in the bottom drawers of her dresser were at least nine different pairs of...pants? aurane had never worn pants before. in casterly rock and king’s landing, women were always required to be clothed in robes down to their feet. the princess supposed that along with a new home came new opportunities.

well, that inner voice in her head spoke at she bit her bottom lip while holding a pair of trousers that were a dark shade of brown. there’s no point in not trying.

aurane stood with the pants in her hands, naked in her room--in all of her glory--and sighed before slipping her feet through the corresponding holes of the clothing. she pulled the pants up to her waist where it had felt comfortable and tied the two loose strings along the sides together the pants tightened around her stomach.

there was nothing much for aurane to say about them except for the fact that she entirely did not enjoy them. she looked to the mirror and noticed how they bagged around her thighs as she pinched the areas that left gaps between her skin and the material of the pants. aurane pulled them off as quickly as possible and pitched them into the woven basket she’d been given on her third day for dirty laundry.

she began to dive into the wardrobe again before noticing the pale orange dress that had been hung directly in the center of her closet. the silk had nearly been invisible because when aurane slipped it onto her frame, she could see her legs and breasts through the fabric. it was then she remembered the prince’s sudden mention of undergarments and wraps that had been placed inside the dressers as well. the entire process of wearing a simple dress that fit perfectly took far too long for aurane then removed the clothing from her body, wrapped a cloth around her bust and backside, then placing the dress back on her frame. it hadn’t been too entirely hot that day, so the simple sheer fabric of the robe had been perfect against aurane’s skin.

by then, with the sun’s position in the sky, it had already been an hour before lunch and aurane’s stomach began to rumble with a yearning for the dornish food she’d grown so attached to over the past week. the princess placed a hand over her torso and sighed. she supposed it would be best to wait for oberyn to arrive just as he had the other day.

almost half an hour flew, and aurane was still waiting. as of now, she sat in a chair by her window, quill, ink, and paper in her lap as she drew the outline of the great palm tree in front of her room. she hadn’t once looked down to see what her drawing would turn out to be; it was an art technique she had been taught in king’s landing. aurane had already finished several other drawings of whatever the view from her window brought and they sat by her feet on the floor. finally, after an illusion of hours, there was a knock on her door.

aurane hated to admit that she immediately jumped off of her chair and onto her feet, running to the door to see the prince. but when she opened the door, it was a large man, taller than any other she’d seen, with rich dark skin and a bald head. “captain?” she cocked an eyebrow.

the guard nodded. “prince oberyn waits for you outside of the west wing of the castle,” areo hotah was one of the most intimidating men that aurane had ever seen and she had been trained by ser gregor in her teenages years--of course, it was never something to mention to the martells.

aurane chewed the inside of her cheek nervously and blushed. “right, um,” she said, looking back to her room and shaking her head before letting out a small laugh that didn’t change the guards’ expressions at all. “well, i guess i’m going.” areo let her leave the room before closing her doors behind her. they then walked down the hallways of the dornish castle, aurane in front with several of her guards behind her. the seven then turned a corner and was brought to another door at the end of the hallway. aurane laughed sheepishly and turned to the captain.

“the west wing is that way, your grace,” he pointed behind the group, in the opposite direction of how they had been walking. as much as aurane wanted to roll her eyes--because why hadn’t he mentioned it before?--she smiled politely and turned on her heel to the west wing.

they trailed down staircases, strolled down through hallways that all began to look the same, and took sharp turns and corners. “if you don’t mind my asking,” aurane spoke with her eyes focused on any sign of where she was in the castle. “why is the prince not at the front entrance? or the gardens?”

areo laughed deeply, a sound that came straight from the depths of his chest. “the prince has special plans today, your grace.” over the last few days, aurane had been reassured that she would remain safe in dorne. but with the captain’s sudden statement, a fear washed over aurane again.

the princess truly had no idea what was in the west wing. the east held all of the royal’s bedrooms, the north had the guest rooms, and the south was for the maidens, chefs, and laborers of the castle. but the remaining had always remained a mystery until now.

“elia martell’s room used to be here, your grace,” the captain spoke again. aurane’s straightforward footsteps began to slow in pace as the realization sunk in. “it’s been abandoned since her death.” without stopping in her walk, aurane sighed. it was quiet again, with only the marching steps of the guards, the wooden ends of the spears against the floor, and loud thoughts in aurane’s head for her to hear. “prince oberyn is just this way, your grace.” areo pointed down a staircase to where there was a little wooden door with a lining of light around it.

sickness began to overtake aurane’s body as she thought about the one specific princess who once habited this part of the castle. how aurane’s family had brutally slaughtered this princess and her children; how they sent her off as a peace treaty. aurane hadn’t noticed it, but she then stood directly in front of the door, staring at the knob. areo, from behind her, cleared his throat for it was a tight staircase and not all six of the guards, including him, could fit inside. she was knocked out of her thoughts and pushed the door open, the sudden sunlight burning her eyes from becoming used to the dim lighting of the castle. she mentally hissed and slapped a hand over her eyes before they met other brown ones.

“good morning, lion,” oberyn smiled. behind him were several more guards holding spears taller than them. the brightness of the sun didn’t seem to affect him at all as aurane gently squinted. “come, we’ll find shade.”

when aurane was by his side, he placed a gentle hand on her back, just as he did nights ago when she had silently rejected him. “and where exactly are we going this time?”

the prince chuckled. “well, you are to be a princess of dorne by tomorrow,” he smiled as they began to walk. it was then, when aurane could finally see in the light, that she noticed they were in a similar space as the docks. behind a large wall, extremely close to the ocean that aurane could almost feel it on her skin. “i figured you would want to meet the city.”

two of his guards stood by an alike door to that of what was located in the castle. it was old and smelled moldy like it hadn’t been used in a long time. aurane laughed. “a secret entrace?” she looked up to the prince with an arched eyebrow. “you really think dorne won’t like me that you had to take me to a secret entrance?”

oberyn shrugged. “i didn’t think you would want the attention.” the two guards swung the door open and aurane could instantly hear the bustling and yelling of the city of sunspear. she looked to oberyn, who stood only two inches taller than her, and sighed before ducking to fit inside the small door frame and entered the city.

it had almost been like magic because the wall had been so thick and strong it kept out all sound of a well-growing economy. as far as aurane could see, there were large structures and houses built all over the land. on the second floors of those buildings must’ve been the homes to thousands of dornish citizens because below them on the first floor were market and small shops and trading centers. it had been so similar to king’s landing yet sunspear reminded aurane nothing of home.

the prince was quiet for a few seconds because not one common person had noticed their presence. “do you like it?” he asked.

aurane smiled but oberyn hadn’t seen it. she slowly nodded as she whispered a, “yeah,” but soon caught herself in such a vulnerable state. “it’s not like i have much of a say whether i like it or not, do i?”

her sarcastic and audacious remarks had no effect on the prince anymore or, really, anyone of dorne. she hadn’t seen ellaria since she’d brought her lunch but even her maidens and servants didn’t seem bothered. it was like their pride could never be tainted. without saying anything in response, oberyn simply cocked his head and they began to walk again.

the soldiers followed a foot behind them but yet maintained a distance for a discussion or even a simple conversation to take place. at least three ladies had recognized the prince and gently curtsied before returning to their daily duties. oberyn must’ve noticed aurane’s confused state because he answered with, “everyone in dorne is treated equal. farmers and marketers are treated just how i am treated.”

even aurane had to admit that the system the people of sunspear followed was fair and nice. “they just...” she shook her head, her eyes trailing over anything to look at by the second. “they don’t look so surprised.”

oberyn shrugged. “i come for walks often,” his hands were holding each together behind his back but every part of him wanted to place just a soft, caring hold on aurane. “the guards are a requirement of my brother.”

why was he so kind? why, even after the slaughtering his family had gone through, the pain he’d felt in his life, was he so kind? even better, how could he be so sweet and patient and loving to those below him? it made a regurgitative feeling arise in aurane’s stomach and she could feel the contents of her breakfast reaching her throat before sighing and swallowing it back down, cringing in disgust.

“you’re distressed, my sun,” the pet name, which aurane had secretly grown found of but would never admit, made her slightly cower. “what’s wrong?”

the prince’s eyes trailed over the variety of fruits and vegetables being sold by one vender as aurane chose her words carefully. “i fear i’ve been...disrespectful,” it was long overdue but oberyn was patient. “from the moment we arrived in dorne, you’ve been nothing but- but hospitable and welcoming. and i’ve been...vile. and rude,” he only nodded for her to continue, sensing she had a whole loads of words to speak. “perhaps it was my sister who drove this fear into me that i wouldn’t be accepted here.”

a kind smile between a vendor and oberyn was exchanged from his viewing of the products, but he listened intently to every word. “growing up, you were taught we were animals.”

aurane nodded and laughed incredulously. “savages,” she corrected him. such biased opinions had been written in the books she’d read as a child when learning about westeros. “and during the past week, i’ve found you’re nothing like the sort.”

the prince chuckled and smiled so that butterflies flew down aurane’s throat and into her stomach, where they would remain. “oh, really?”

her eyes watched as he turned to look at every sort of item being sold that day. suddenly, his kindness was a likable attribute to aurane and she blushed with a sly smirk. “if i’m telling the truth here,” he nodded. “you might even be better than those in king’s landing.”

“well, it’s not hard to be better than a lannister.” his remark wasn’t hateful or vengeful as oberyn smirked back and for a second, aurane had forgotten that there were guards behind her or merchants and traders and farmers all around. it felt like it was just the two of them enjoying them a quiet afternoon and a simple conversation. she quite liked it. “perhaps we should find lunch somewhere.”

aurane furrowed her eyebrows with a crooked smile before hesitantly laughing. “you mean,” she found no falter in the prince’s expression. “dining in a- a what, a restaurant?”

this seemed to take oberyn by surprise because, and it was the only time aurane could find him doing this that day, he laughed unsurely. the red viper was never unsure and even he himself couldn’t say what was happening. “well, yes,” his eyes began to scan over the many shops and restaurants in search of a meal. “that is what restaurants tend to do.”

such comment was not meant to be sarcastic or snarky or rude. it was a mindless thought that oberyn had just happened speak out. “i’ve never been in a restaurant,” aurane whispered and looked to the ground. would the owners of whatever eating house oberyn picked be peaceful with a lannister princess dining in their business.

oberyn had heard her mumble but said nothing of it. there was a pit at the bottom of his stomach, it’d been there since his sister was murdered, and he hadn’t felt such sympathy in that pit from elia’s death until now, when aurane muscles grew tense because people were starting to look.

there were whispers. the worst kind of whispers; the kind where it seemed as if every person had something to say but it was impossible to make out. eyes were glued to the couple yet hands remained at their jobs. oberyn had never seen his city spark in such controversy. had aurane been right? would they treat her differently? he looked to the girl beside him and found that she was hearing the whispers too yet there was no stall in her walk. if someone had quickly glanced at her, she would glare back at them. her chin was raised high and oberyn, such as he had done with ellaria, felt compassion and admiration.

he gulped silently at the sudden change of heart in his city. as they began to walk further and further, growing deeper in sunspear, the whispers began to fade in and out. the rumored lannister princess was finally showing her face. “here, my sun,” he pointed to a small tavern with trays of produce and potted flowers in front of the windows. “i’ve been told you can handle the dornish spices.”

aurane blushed and nodded as the sudden mention of such topic caused her mind to flash to ellaria. she wanted to see the older lady again desperately and she wasn’t sure why. the entrace of the restaurant was not grand or heavenly or designed with a golden intricate design. it was a simple tavern with at least sixty plants hung and placed on the perimeter. it had been one large room and, for the time of day, strangely empty. aurane suspected that the prince had reserved it in secret but she wouldn’t comment on it.

before either of them stepped foot into the tavern, oberyn placed a gentle hand on her forearm and pointed to one of the potted plants that held six white flowers with layers of small triangular petals. a few of the flowers had a pink hue to them but the white ones took aurane by interest.

“a dahlia,” the prince smiled, gently dragging his fingers over the petals. his eyes seemed entranced over the small plant. “you don’t see them very much.”

aurane smiled and turned to oberyn. “they grow rarely in king’s landing,” her words were sweet but there was something in oberyn’s gaze that seemed so reminiscent. he was longing for something. “what is it?”

he chewed the inside of his cheek and aurane turned to the guards standing protectively behind them. even they seemed aware of whatever oberyn had been feeling. “elia’s favorite flower,” his lips curled with a raspy voice before picking the flower from it’s stem and holding it between his two fingers. oberyn then looked to aurane, who was more understanding now, and wove the flower through her hair until it sat behind her ear. aurane could only smile.

―

the day was ending and the sun was starting to set. a large lunch had filled aurane’s stomach so there was no room for dinner. oberyn must’ve been the same because on their walk back to the castle, he, too, walked with heavy feet. the guard’s behind them didn’t stumble in their steps as the sunlight was fading.

“i hoped you enjoy our walk today,” oberyn spoke, his hands behind his back as they strolled along the secret pathway. while exiting the city through the small door just as they had done earlier that day, aurane had been careful to crouch down so that her flower would stay woven in her hair.

she nodded and listened to the waves because there wasn’t much else to here. the bustling of the city was muffled by the wall but aurane didn’t mind a little of bit of silence as the day ended. “i think i did,” the dahlia, which had at first felt strange when touching her temple was now softly brushing against her skin. “and i did enjoy lunch.” she turned to the prince.

“i don’t suppose you still want dinner?” he asked politely, looking down only two inches to her height. most of the woman oberyn had been with, apart from ellaria, could only reach his shoulder but the top of aurane’s head touched just below his nose.

it was peaceful for him to watch her laugh so effortlessly and genuinely as the shore threatened to crash above the pathaway. they’d been inches away from the water but yet no sign of fear arose. “no, i think i’ve had my fill for the day.”

a nod in response before oberyn sighed, “join me in my chambers.” just as his voice normally did toward the end of the day, he sounded raspy and tired yet every part of him was awake while he looked at aurane.

was it an offer for a night of pleasure? the rumors of oberyn and his countless lovers had been spread all throughout westeros and he didn’t seem ashamed by them. aurane had no problem with bedding someone before she was married, she’d done it before, but she hadn’t thought that the prince would draw her close just for a fuck. the prince laughed and shook his head, noticing aurane’s train of thought. “i can promise you, lion, it’s not like that,” he chuckled out. aurane’s cheeks burned in embarrassment. “when was the last time you had a bath?”

they were now in the abandoned west wing that remained darker than the rest of the castle, but aurane didn’t find it unpleasant or frightening. oberyn could barely find the courage to walk around these quarters of the castle himself but aurane, who had lived with the family responsible of the death of the former inhabitant of sunspear, strolled so unbothered down those halls. it wasn’t because she had no care for elia martell’s death, if anything it was the opposite, but no--this was because aurane could swallow the lannister pride and respect the fact that her father slaughtered oberyn’s sister.

once they had arrived in the east wing, oberyn turned to his soldiers and cocked his head for them to leave him and aurane. because they had been under prince doran’s command, they each shared a glance of hesitation but one simple stern eye and a whispered “have my maidens fetch warm water for my room” and they continued to walk down the hallway, leaving the oncoming couple alone. “you wouldn’t oppose a bath, would you?”

aurane’s first experience of a bath in dorne had been lovely, mainly due to the spices and scents of the salts and soaps she combed through her hair. she sighed heavily, her chest rising with her breath before smiling, “no, i don’t think i would.” the rest of their walk was in sweet silence. the castle seemed to be asleep--the gardens were empty and the hallways barren of the normal maidens hurrying down to each room. aurane noticed that they walked past her room and she wondered just how close her and oberyn had been to each other this entire time. the floors, still a pristine polished marble, seemed to glimmer as the last of the sun could be seen in the sky. finally, they had arrived at oberyn’s door, which were exactly the same as aurane’s.

she chuckled and looked back down the hallway to where her doors stood and then back at the prince. “all this time and you’ve been down the hallway?” oberyn shrugged and opened the door for the princess. she bit on her tongue when she was instantly greeted with the overpowering aroma of citrus sugar.

“don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now?” the prince smirked and aurane showed no hesitation as she sauntered confidently into the room, soon slowing her steps.

his room had been much bigger than hers, yet held the same amount of furniture and looked still so full. the bed was placed next to the equivalent wall that aurane’s bed was in her room. the windows were so close to the bed that it seemed to her morning’s must’ve been perfect because the sun could just simply leak in through the windows and darken the skin of whoever lied upon the bed. next to the opening of the room was a desk that held what looked like to be hundreds of crumpled papers and a quill and its ink. on the opposite side of his room was a large wooden tub that could hold multiple bodies and the simple thought of who had been in there before almost sickened aurane. the tub had been filled to the brim with warm water and on a small table beside it were various soaps and salts.

it was sudden but the door had been closed and oberyn’s hands landed on aurane bare shoulders. she shuddered gently and he immediately removed his touch. “lion,” he spoke steadily and turned aurane to him.

they both turned so their backs faced each other and she could hear him unbuttoning his top. her fingers did their best to trail over the clip in the rear of her dress but fumbled over the soft fabric. she sighed and turned to the prince but found he’d already reversed back to her. his chest was completely bare as he was only dressed in his pants. he must’ve silently slipped his boots off because his feet were also bare against the marble. he cocked his head and pushed on her shoulder so she turned once again. his index and thumb found the clip so simply and undid it so the fabric feel loose against her body, but her hands flew to her chest to catch it from falling completely off. there a crumpling noise of leather dropping into a heap on the floor. water splashed apart and together until it was silent again. while keeping her back facing oberyn, aurane turned her head and met his eyes.

he sat against the side of the tub with his arms held up along the edge of the wood. “are you scared, lion?” he asked so sweetly yet remained so stern.

the only thing that stood in the way of aurane standing as naked as the day she was born in front of the prince was her hands clutching onto the dress. “close your eyes.” she whispered. oberyn only sighed and rose a hand over his eyes, gently squeezing them shut for reassurance. the dress cascaded down to the floor with an inaudible sound. she stepped one foot in the water and the warmth instantly felt calming. once aurane stood completely in the tub, she began to sink to the bottom, where she sat with the surface of her bath reaching just above her breasts.

“can i open?” the prince asked.

aurane brought her knees to her chest and spoke aloud a, “yes.” her arms wrapped around her legs as oberyn rested his hand again and smiled. somehow, despite her cowering position, aurane felt more confident than ever with all of her body exposed.

that sly smile spread over oberyn’s face again as twirled his finger for aurane to turn around. she did so and sat closer to him in between his legs. her breath almost hitched when she felt his length against her back but he didn’t act upon it. instead, he lathered his hands with a lemon-scented shampoo and combed it throughout the strands of aurane’s hair. it was a soothing feeling as his fingertips gently massaged her scalp and aurane could’ve fallen asleep right there. once her hair was completely covered in the suds, oberyn then cupped his hands into the water and poured it over her head, watching as the soap washed out fairly easily.

she chuckled. “how many girls have you given baths too?” she noted his expertise. it wasn’t every man who knew who to treat a woman’s hair--not in westeros.

once her hair was completely cleaned and dripping and pushed it to the side of her neck so her back was bare. he placed a soft kiss against the top of her spine, “do you want to know?” and began to caress her arms with the bar of soap. aurane gently shook her head and smiled. for a month, she’d be tense and anxious for what her fate awaited for her. for the past week, while remaining in her room she’d grown closer and closer to that fate and could not see perfectly clear what it was. and if it really was this, she didn’t mind. a finger was suddenly brushed over a raw piece of skin on her arm and she shivered under the touch.

oberyn’s eyebrows furrowed in concern before sitting up and looking over the top of aurane’s arm. “lion,” he cooed, gazing at the ruined skin--a scar. “how did you acquire such a wound?”

the question was one that aurane didn’t have to answer often because it was only her family who had seen it and she’d never left the castle for anyone else to glimpse her scar.

“fire,” she spoke as he continued to gently rub over the healed wound with one hand, and the other poured water over the soap on her body. the sun had now completely set and the stars were glimmering over the surface of the water. the moonlight had such an effect on aurane’s frame--there was a silver lining against her curves and edges and oberyn wanted nothing more than to cherish it. “casterly rock didn’t like how the last lannister child was a bastard, furthermore with a rumored dornishwoman. i had never seen the city until i was four namedays,” the prince remained quiet as another kiss was placed on her shoulder. “my father had been hesitant about letting me into the festivals. but my brother had begged. he said ‘she’ll never learn to be a good ruler if she can’t know her people’, so papa had my sister escort me along with four other guards.”

a kiss on her knuckles as he held her hand. “and?”

“i’d gotten lost along the way. i didn’t think it was possible for a city to hate a child so much but i’d been proven wrong.” underneath the water, aurane moved her hands in such delicate motions. “i was in alley or- something like that, i can’t remember. but there were two men there and a woman. they were sneering and laughing at the little lost lannister princess,” a kiss on her wrist. “one was holding a candle since the sun was setting for the festivities to begin, and as i was trying to walk away, they pressed the fire against my arm,” the memories were still there in aurane’s mind but they didn’t spark anger or vengeance in her. she had accepted it. “my sister then found me and my father had them hanged.”

oberyn chuckled and planted a firm kiss on her neck. the loving and affectionate actions hadn’t taken aurane by surprise. she knew of the prince’s ways and respects. “lannisters are dangerous people.”

he talked of her family as if she wasn’t a part of it. maybe she wasn’t--maybe aurane wasn’t a lannister like her father or siblings because her mother had been a dornishwoman and aurane had been born a bastard. “yes, they are.”

―

suddenly, all the peace and comfort aurane had felt during her first week in sunspear dissolved into dust and blown away in the cool evening breeze she loved to feel after the hot days of dorne. the last time she’d been pampered was her last day in king’s landing. her maidens had braided her hair and her sister had applied the sheer cover of make-up to her skin that wasn’t needed very much. during her week, aurane had dressed herself and brushed her own hair and washed her own body, but now, she sat in a chair in front of her mirror with several maidens surrounding her. one was twirling and brushing and braiding her hair, another was powdering her face, and the last was tying the loose strings in the back of aurane’s dress.

why was she so nervous? the night before had been so simple--oberyn showed love and they’d bathed and because he was so understanding, she returned to her chambers where she slept for only two hours.

a maiden giggled. “it’s a wonder, your grace,” she admired. “i sleep only four hours through the night and i always wake up with darkness under my eyes.”

aurane smiled in response and nodded quietly. her dress was the usual white, but behind it was a golden tint in honor of the lannister house, although she knew that dorne wanted nothing to do with their enemies. she looked at her reflection and her mirror and liked what she saw, but despite her beauty and fairness, her fingers absentmindedly began to fiddle with each other.

she sighed fairly and the maidens looked to each other on what to say. the oldest one, who looked about aurane’s sister’s age, stumbled on her words before noting, “i hope you know you look heavenly, your grace,” she leaned down and tucked a strand of hair behind aurane’s ear.

the princess smiled in response before the second maiden spoke, “very heavenly, indeed,” aurane looked back to her reflection and attempted to smile with pride but it came out slightly unhinged. “the prince is a good man. you’re marrying a very good man.”

a knock echoed through aurane’s room as she inhaled deeply, sticking out her chest. the first maiden went to the door and the two other followed suite. aurane did not turn to see who was at the door because she knew, by tradition, it could not be oberyn.

“my lady,” a maiden curtsied before ellaria sand could brush her off.

the older woman bowed her head back and looked to aurane. the sound of her voice, so peaceful and loving and...maternal, piqued interest in the princess and she smiled at the sight of oberyn’s lover. ellaria wore a bright yellow linen dress with golden plating on her shoulders that were attached to more honey-colored pieces of fabric that cascaded down her arms and to the floor. she looked heavenly. “are you ready, lion?”

aurane’s gaze softened and her lips parted.

tags: @ohpedromypedro @zeldasayer @pascalpapi @absurdthirst @cyarikaaa @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @pedropascalonline @pedropascalito @pedropascalitofics @honeychicanawrites @otherthingsinhead @wakalas @pedropascalispapi @heavenbarnes @qveenbvtch @foreverlostindreams @forever-rogue @arianawills @liadamerondjarin @pascalisthepunkest

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tiptapricot · 4 years

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I wrote a fic based on the wonderful @aloofwindbag ‘s Batgirl!Tim AU for their bday and the first two chapters are up! I’ll be finishing it in the next 1-2 weeks depending, so I hope y’all like it :-D

***

The report was on the news that morning. After the weather, and something about a new bowling alley opening on the East side, the anchor moved on to a breaking news segment. Tim wasn’t totally paying attention, the TV was turned down to background noise while he ate breakfast, something to fill the space while his parents were away. Nonetheless, his ears perked up at a familiar name.

“Barbara Gordon, the police commissioner’s daughter, was shot in her apartment last night.”

He froze, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. He strained his ears to make out the rest of the report. This couldn’t… he couldn’t have heard that right.

The anchor continued, explaining what had been released to the public (barely anything), and finished with, “We’ll be following this story as it develops, so stay tuned,” before the feed switched to a commercial. Tim was already at the door, a daypack slung over his shoulder and a note to the sitter taped to the fridge.

Continue reading on ao3 or under the cut!

***

As it turned out, Barbara wasn’t as easy to find as Tim had expected. It was largely because none of the hospitals would let him past the help desk without a guardian present, but there was also a frustrating lack of news updates. He was carrying out an investigation practically blind, and it was frustrating.

The sitter caught up to him when he stopped to buy a bag of chips a few blocks from Gotham General. She manhandled him into her car, bordering on frantic as she scolded him for going out without supervision. Tim tuned out most of it for the drive home, rolling his eyes as she brought up ‘safety concerns’ again. He’d heard the same speech a thousand times.

“’M sorry,” he mumbled as they pulled into the driveway. He wasn’t, not really. The apology was more of a courtesy and to stop the woman from prying than anything else. He was plenty capable of taking care of himself without some nutty college student looking over his shoulder.

The sitter let out a long sigh and gave him a strained smile. “Just don’t do it again, Mr. Drake.” She said. Tim nodded and got out of the backseat without another word.

They spent the rest of the day inside. The sitter ordered food and put on a movie like she always did, but Tim wasn’t interested. He couldn’t stop thinking about Barbara.

She had to be fine, right? She was Batgirl, she was super strong and cool and awesome and she’d been hurt plenty of times, but she’d always come back sooner or later. Maybe Tim just had to be patient. He could wait. He could.

He spent the night lying awake with a police scanner propped up next to his pillow, listening intently for any reports of a girl in a cape.

There were none.

***

A week passed and Batgirl still wasn’t back on the streets, then two, then three. Even after Barbara was released from the hospital (discreetly, with almost no news coverage) there was nothing. At the month and a half mark, Tim had had enough. He was going to get to the bottom of this, and he was going to do it now.

His parents had gone on another spur of the moment business trip and they’d hired a different sitter than usual. She didn’t know Tim like the last one had, didn’t guard his door or lock his windows. She just tucked him in, turned out the lights, and half an hour later Tim heard her car pull out of the driveway. No one to catch him leaving, it was the perfect time to sneak out.

He gathered a few things first. His camera, a notepad and pencil, a bottle of water, a thick hoodie, and a wad of cash from the drawer in his mom’s room. He wasn’t supposed to know the stash was there, but it wasn’t exactly hidden either.

Barbara lived over in Old Gotham, in the clocktower near Wayne Enterprises. It was on the opposite side of town from Tim’s house, but if he rode his bike a few miles down the road and across the bridge he could catch a cab and take that the rest of the way. If the driver let him on, that was. Most Gotham cabbies didn’t care how old he was, as long as he paid them, but there were always those odd few that would mistake him for a runaway and try to take him to social services. As if. He was only two months shy of eight and a half now, not some baby. If he ever wanted to run away he’d be much more discreet about it.

It was a cool evening when he stepped outside, the streets and concrete damp with rain and the swelling clouds overhead promising more. Tim coasted down the driveway on his bike, water pattering against his sneakers, and out the gate to the main road. He stayed on the hard shoulder, flicking his handlebar light on when the first few cars came into view.

It wasn’t the first time he’d made the trip to Gotham. He’d been sneaking out a few times every week to go bat-watching ever since he was old enough to work a camera.

He’d never told his parents that though, and he didn’t know if he ever would.

There was a box of faded Polaroids and undeveloped film stuffed under his bed, full of blurry photos of capes and masks streaking across rooftops. Some of them were clearer, shots he’d gotten by climbing up fire escapes or ducking behind dumpsters to observe a fight, but each one was special to him.

The bats had shaped his childhood. They were guardians and mysteries wrapped in Kevlar suits, something he could look forward to when the house was boring and empty. He’d been following them for years, it was how he’d worked out their identities, and it was precisely why the mystery surrounding Barbara worried him so much.

It started raining as Tim turned onto the bridge, a drizzle that quickly turned into a downpour. He shivered and flipped his hood up, leaning closer to the handlebars.

About a year ago, Robin had gone missing too. A week or so after the disappearance, the news had reported that Jason—Robin—had been in a nasty car crash. Nothing else, no specifics, just that he was in critical condition at one of Gotham’s hospitals. He was eventually released, but Robin hadn’t appeared again for almost seven months after the fact.

The whole situation was eerily similar to the current one. That should’ve made Tim feel better, in theory, since Robin had come back in the end, but it didn’t. Something felt off this time, but he couldn’t place what. Maybe it was because Barbara had been released much sooner than Jason, yet still wasn’t back on the streets, or maybe because he was just paranoid this time around, he didn’t know. Either way, whenever he thought about it he felt… weird.

He couldn’t quite explain the feeling, a worry that twisted in his gut and made him feel queasy and sad. Batgirl was his hero, or one of them at least. She was gorgeous and powerful and awesome and he looked up to her. He didn’t know what he’d do if she never turned up again.

He had to get to the bottom of what was going on. If not him, then who?

Tim rode off the bridge and onto a sidewalk, weaving around a few pedestrians before swerving into an alley. He got off, unclipped his helmet, and shoved his bike in the small gap between one of the dumpsters and the wall. It was the best hiding spot he’d been able to find over the years, and it had only taken three stolen bikes to find.

He managed to flag down a cab after only a few minutes, smiling to himself when the driver grunted nothing more than a brief “Where to?” as he slid into the backseat.

“Gotham Clocktower please,” he replied.

“‘Aight kid.” The driver mumbled.

Tim stared out the window as they drove, watching raindrops slip down the glass. Gotham was kind of pretty at night, when the buildings blended with the sky and didn’t feel as huge and ominous. Sometimes, if he could make them out, he would read the words on the street signs under his breath. He wasn’t doing that now, of course, this driver didn’t seem like the type to appreciate that. Instead, he scanned the rooftops, hoping to catch a flash of cape or boots between the gargoyles. He knew he probably wouldn’t, the Bats were rarely ever out this early, but it was worth a shot.

When they pulled up to the clocktower it was pouring even harder. Tim handed a wad of cash to the driver and thanked him before getting out, groaning as he stepped right into a deep puddle. He sighed and tugged at the straps of his backpack. The sooner he could get inside, the better.

Tim looked up at the clock face towering above him. He was nervous, but excited too. He was finally going to get his answers, and get to talk to one of the Bats for the first time. He could do this. He could do this. Squaring his shoulders, Tim walked towards the entrance with determination, and stepped through the double doors.

Ch. 2

#hbd toothens #please check out their art!!#it is of the highest quality #tim drake #barbara gordon #batgirl #dc #dc comics #batfam #batfamily #fanfic #fic #my fic #my-fic

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gallavichgeek · 3 years

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Author Interview

I was tagged by @yeah-all-of-it! Thank you so much, that was very kind of you.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I currently have 18, though I'm working on three more as I answer these questions.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

337,932

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Saving Grace (546)

South Side Forever (437)

Sex Tape (408)

The Ian to Mickey’s Cal (381)

The Truth (346)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, every single one within a day or two. I appreciate comments more than anything, it really gives me a sense of what my readers are feeling and whether I am getting the right emotions across and whether they are finding my story interesting.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I would have to say Saving Grace really leaves readers on the edge until the very last few paragraphs.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I ONLY write happy endings, except for Two Kisses, but you can blame the movie Fatherhood for that, so I don’t think it counts. (If any of you have seen that movie on Netflix then you know exactly how painful that one shot is)

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

The closest crossover I’ve written was The Ian to Mickey’s Cal. My friend Co-wrote it with me where we explored Ian being the model for Jedi Fallen Order and Mickey having a crush on the video game character only to then one day meet Ian in the video game store he works in and he is blown away by the resemblance.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

A few times, and every time I know it’s been a troll because either their comment shows that they didn’t actually read the whole chapter/story and are just poking at sections that they skimmed so they can start an argument over it. Or when I kindly reply to them, stating I understand how they feel however that’s not what the story was intending, they suddenly blow everything way out of proportion and begin pointing things that aren’t even relevant to the story or the original argument. That’s when I stop and let it go, knowing they are just looking for an argument.

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

Of course. I like to try and dabble in everything but I don’t write my ship sleeping with other people (three ways. Cheating. Break ups and sleeping with randoms to get revenge. etc etc) I’m personally not interested in exploring kinks like tentacles or femboy either, but have nothing against those that are courageous enough to give it a try.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. I’ve had three translated into Russian

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

Yes, The Ian to Mickey’s Cal with Camnoelgallavich

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Gallavich. I’ve had many others over the years but none have hit me this hard, stayed with me this long or inspired me the way they do.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I don’t have any WIP’s because the way my process works is I write the whole story before I begin to post so that I can update frequently and only have to focus on editing each chapter. I have been burned many times with WIPS and I don’t want to do that to my readers. I want them to know if they start my story they are guaranteed an end and not a huge gap between updates.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Capturing the characters emotions and dialogue. I always make sure to write them as they would speak in canon with the exception of may be getting a little more emotional sometimes.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m not the best at editing. I have to edit my chapters twice before posting and sometimes get help from my beta with lengthy paragraphs where I've jumbled my words with what I’m trying to convey across to the readers. I also have an issue with time jumping. It’s as though I need to write out everything that happened to lead up to each point rather than just skipping forward a day or a week.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I only speak English and I don’t want to put it in a fic in case google translate it wrong. The one time I used Russian in ‘The Truth’ I checked google six times before posting to make sure it was right and I translated from English to Russian and Russian to English just to be sure.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Shameless. I’ve thought of writing for others but ideas never captivated me enough to get me writing.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Maybe sterek. It’s a little harder being that it’s a supernatural world but it would be interesting to explore.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

It’s a tie.

‘Saving Grace’ which is my first huge fic that really explored my characters in a world that was so different to canon. I did a lot of research to get the facts correct while diving into the world of mental health.

The second fic would be ‘Hope’. Once again, I did research, but it’s more due to it being such a wholesome story that warms my heart because it gave the characters the happy ending they never got in canon, fixing all the issues the show forgot to address, so it’s a fic I keep very close to my heart. It’s now part of a series that I don’t think I could ever stop writing for.

I don’t know a lot of writers on Tumblr since I mostly use Twitter and Instagram but I'll try @camnoel @filorux and @doodlevich.

#author interview #fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #really appreciated being tagged in this #Thank you

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girlsbtrs · 3 years

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An Interview with PLEXXAGLASS

Written by Olivia Khiel. Graphic by James N Grey.

Non-binary dark pop artist PLEXXAGLASS has found their identity and carved out their own space in the music world. With the pandemic putting things on hold, they took to TikTok, reaching a new community of queer fans to connect with through songs like “Liar” and “Lilith” (the latter produced by Linkin Park’s Mike Shinoda). GBTRS spoke with Plexxaglass about collaborating with Shinoda, their gender identity journey and what they hope listeners will connect with in their music.

Girls Behind the Rock Show: Now that you have more music out, how would you describe the evolution of your sound from when you started to where you are now?

Plexxaglass: I love that question. Because it's kind of funny- I feel like I made a little bit of a circle. I say that because the first two songs that I put out- "Lament en Route" and "Liar"- they're pretty similar sonically to the songs that I'm putting out. So much so that I'm actually going to include those songs on the LP that I'll be releasing, tentatively in October. There's an interesting little gap between those first two songs, and then I put out three other songs that was like my experimental phase. I'm always having fun, but I was trying some different things. I'm happy that I did that and there were two music videos that came out of that cycle or phase. Those songs are "Dead-Eyed Monsters" and "Ana Thema". But I feel like I found my way back to what I found initially, which is really interesting and fun to realize now.

GBTRS: What's the story behind your latest singles? What was it like collaborating with Mike Shinoda on "Lilith"?

Plexxaglass: "Lilith" was a half-finished song honestly- maybe even a quarter-finished song when I even got in touch with Mike. That happened so serendipitously-I had a listener who was also a regular viewer of my Twitch channel and a huge Linkin Park and Shinoda fan in general who hit me up on Instagram and was like, 'Mike Shinoda is producing independent artists' tracks, you should totally submit'.

I submitted what I had of "Lilith" at the time, which was only a verse and the hook. It was a song that I loved and I knew that I wanted to be finished. I'm not one of those musicians that can just be like, 'alright, I'm gonna write a song today'. I really have to be called by the Muses or some shit. I have to be very inspired. But when Mike reached out to me, that was incentive and inspiration enough. I think when I was sitting down to finish it, I finished in maybe 20 minutes. That's just how it happens sometimes. When it's there, it's there and I finish songs really quickly. The process of working with Mike was amazing, and him and his team told me in the beginning that it was going to be pretty hands off on my part. I knew going in that I was gonna have to take it or leave it, which was sort of scary. I was like, oh shit, what if I don't like it? Am I gonna have to tell Mike Shinoda that I don't want to release the work that he did on my track? Oh my god, that's so scary. But no, of course, he's just so versatile. He really is a musician's musician, and he just gets music in general- doesn't matter what genre it is. I believe my song is the one that he finished the fastest, which is very flattering. It made me feel like it was just very ready. He didn't really have to do too much to it. It was a really, really cool experience that I just will cherish forever and ever and ever.

GBTRS: The song came out beautifully so it's great that things worked out so well.

Plexxaglass: Yeah! And the inspiration behind that one- I wrote it out of a fascination with the second season of The Handmaid's Tale. I found that dynamic so fascinating. I find women or femme-presenting people who [are] in a marginalized group who buys into very oppressive religious practices horrifying and fascinating at the same time. That was the inspiration behind writing that and really sitting with wondering if there's ever an awakening with those people. That was really the basis for that whole song.

GBTRS: You've gotten to collab with Mike Shinoda, but is there anyone else on your list that you'd love to be in the studio with in the future?

Plexxaglass: Oh god, yeah. So many. Right off the top of my head...I love Bishop Briggs, I love Dermot Kennedy, Bon Iver, Annie from St. Vincent, Florence Welch. Those are the big ones. I would die happy if I ever got to collaborate with any of them. That would be amazing.

GBTRS: What else do you find yourself drawing inspiration from these days?

Plexxaglass: Up until this point, it's been very autobiographical. It's been very much things that have happened in my life. I am trying to get away from that because I'm somebody who writes more somber music. I have some anthemic stuff that's more uplifting, but it is dark pop. I am at a point in my life where I'm generally- I'm mentally ill- but I'm generally a happy person. There's not a lot of dramatic tragedy going on in my life at 30 anymore. I'm trying to write a little more abstractly these days, but the themes that seem to always reoccur are very social justice motivated. Writing about mental illness and mental health are all themes that I tend to write about over and over again in different ways.

GBTRS: You've been very vocal and open about your gender identity and that's very important to so many people who are looking to find themselves in the people that they listen to. Do you have any advice for people who are struggling with that, or even advice for creatives who are in the industry who are working through that as well?

Plexxaglass: So my coming out as non-binary is still honestly pretty new. I came out publicly about it a little over a year ago. It's something that I always knew, but growing up we just didn't have the language for it. I didn't really know why I felt so out of place and that it felt like such a struggle to present as feminine as possible so as not to feel like I was an outsider. I spent many years trying very hard to conform.

I think a lot of it was literature that talked about neo-pronouns [that] was something that happened for me that was really an eye-opener. I knew at that point that there were people who used they/them pronouns [and] identified as non-binary, but for some reason, it didn't really click until a book called Black Sun. They have a character that uses neo-pronouns. It just really slapped me in the face.

I'm really lucky. My friends and family have been almost apathetic about it- like 'that totally makes sense'. The other thing that really helped me was honestly TikTok as well. There is a large trans and non-binary community on TikTok. That was where I really found community, because it was scary to me, because I have conformed for so long. Being a woman was something that I made a very clear part of my identity for so long, that I was scared to lose that community.

I would just say to anyone who is afraid of that: anyone who doesn't still want to welcome you in their space isn't a person you want in your life anyway. I've been lucky that I haven't really had a lot of that. It was a struggle to let go of that. After I came out publicly, I was looking through my closet and I have all of these shirts that say Girl Club and Badass Woman [and] all of these because I was trying so hard. It was difficult to let go of that and come to terms with the fact that it really never was me- it was a mask that I was putting on to feel included and normal.

GBTRS: Do you have a song in your catalog that particularly resonates with you?

Plexxaglass: There's a song that's coming out in August. It's the last single off of this record [and] it's called "Tall". It is about being a trauma survivor- my trauma- and just a rallying cry for trauma survivors in general. I have put out little teasers of it on TikTok and it does seem like it's really resonating with people, which is very exciting. But out of the catalog of songs that I have out currently, the song "Liar"...it's kind of similar in tone. I wrote it after I was diagnosed Bipolar II. It's a song that's very clearly about mental health struggles and I think anyone who does struggle with depression really does relate to that song. That song was the one that really gifted me listeners from TikTok. So that's a song I'll always cherish for many, many reasons, but it has definitely brought me my little music family.

GBTRS: Now that you're starting to connect even more with your listeners, is there anything specific that you hope people take away from your music when they hear you for the first time?

Plexxaglass: I think, like most people, I wanted to create a little community, and I do feel like I'm finally getting to a point where I'm doing that with my music and connecting people and their experiences.

GBTRS: Now that things are starting to move forward, what's coming up for you?

Plexxaglass: I want to get back to playing shows. I definitely want to pair a show with the release of the record, so I'm hoping I'm going to book some shows for the fall. Get back into rehearsals with a band and get that going and just keep writing and coming up with new material for the next wave of music.

GBTRS: Is there anything else that you want people to know about you or your music, or is there anything that you wish you got to talk about more that you might not get asked?

Plexxaglass: Wow, good question. I think a lot of people don't realize that musicians- especially independent artists- this is this is our small business. It takes a lot of work, obviously, it takes talent and patience, but it takes money. That's why they're there are gaps in time of when I put music out, because sometimes I just legitimately can't afford to- which is sad, I wish that the US had more support for artists like I know other countries do- I know that the UK is really good about grant opportunities for their artists out there.

I know that people are happy to consume music, but I think people don't realize- especially in the independent side of things- how hard it is to be a musician who's trying to make it in this country. I appreciate everyone who has ever just randomly sent me like $2 on PayPal. It means so much to me because it means that they get that and I think that is something really special and cool about the family that I'm building with my music because they think that they really see me and they appreciate the work. It's people who genuinely want to be involved in my work, and that is something I've never experienced before until the past year or two. That's awesome because myself and my producer, Kevin...we love this project to death. It's awesome to see response from people who love it just as much as we do.

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todaydreambelieversfic · 4 years

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Author Spotlight: Coffeegleek Day 1

Author : @coffeegleek

How did you get into Glee and Glee fandom?

I saw the premier when it aired during the summer and was hooked. Having been burned by a fandom shortly before that, I tried to resist joining Glee fandom. Then about halfway through Glee airing routinely, I could resist no longer. I needed more. I needed the interaction with other fans that weren't immediate family. (Hub and son love the show, but were watchers and not into fandom.)

In general, what drew you into writing (and/or creating)?

I'd written for other fandoms before as well as a lot of original poetry and science fiction. One day I finally caved and co-wrote two crack Klaine fics. About a year or two later, I wrote more crack fics that got no traction on tumblr so I stopped writing for a long time. (I was and still am a small fish in a large fandom pond, though that pond has shrunk now that the show is long over.) Then a couple of years ago, my son left for university and I couldn't shake this one small fic idea I had about Burt and Carole as empty nesters. I had to get it out and it exploded into this huge verse. In-between those fics I wrote more crack fics.

What was it about Glee that made you decide to write fanfic for it?

Part of it was Kurt and Blaine being wonderful characters. Part of it was the joy of challenging myself as a writer be it serious stuff or Klaine advent challenges which are fun. Yet another part was to write fics I wanted to read or tropes I wanted to explore more.

Have you been a part of other fandoms before? Have you written fanfiction pre-glee?

Oh, yes! Many fandoms and many fics on many accounts I've long lost user names and passwords to. Out there on FFN is a Buffy/Farscape crossover and a couple of Pretender fanfics. Those are just three of the many fandoms I've been in. I met my spouse through Star Trek fandom and was involved in (and left) the very toxic Fox fandom board for the Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles fandom. (My fandom before Glee.)

Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

AU is my crack and I love political Klaine be it Kurt and/or Blaine in politics or as President. I love the ones where Burt is president. Despite being a huge West Wing fan who's rewatched the series multiple times, I don't think I could do a Glee characters in that verse justice. I really wish I could though. Before the pandemic hit, a friend and I were going to do a Blast from the Past movie challenge where folks would write their favorite 1980's and 90's movies with Glee characters. I was all set to write Running on Empty and still have my notes for it.

Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

A few. Certain kinks and especially those that involve fluids, marking, and mpreg.

Another nope - Large age differences in a consenting relationship. To clarify with a personal experience of why it’s a huge no: There was a guy in my family’s social group who was in his late 60’s/early 70’s who would brag to hub and I (for some reason) about his conquestions with barely legal guys. The things he would say about even younger guys were creepy AF. My out gay son was nearing his preferred age and we (and son) kept Creepy Guy far away from him. No one believed us when we tried to tell them about him. So any kind of huge age gap is a big nope for me unless it’s written as a “this is wrong and not appropriate” because I can’t help but think of the guy everyone else had labeled as But He’s Such a Nice Guy. I’m not criticizing the authors or readers of consensual, everything is happy, large age gap fics. They’re just not for me and I accept my bias.

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

I want to finish writing/expanding a fic for my Empty Nest verse that takes place between A Nest of Scars and Empty Nest. I also have a few one shots between Kurt and Carole and Kurt and Burt that I keep writing in my head while cooking, but never getting them onto a google doc. I want to finish last year's Klaine Advent challenge fic entitled, A Very Weird Christmas Adventure. I was so close to being done and had it all figured out too. I'd also like to write the Running on Empty crossover fic. I love that movie so much. I'd love to tackle a Handmaid's Tale crossover, but haven't worked out enough of the logistics for it.

***

Check out Coffeegleek’s Fics

Empty Nest - Revised - Empty Nest started off as just this little thing I was going to write. The idea had been kicking around in my head for a year. There's a stray cat that's taken shelter under our front porch for years & runs whenever he sees us. When my son went off to university, I started thinking about what if the cat was really homeless, hybrid Kurt? And in October of 2017, I finally started to write what was going to be a ficlette & nothing more. It's now late January 2018 & the verse has grown to two fics, a series of Klaine Advent one shots, 98,442 words, & is still going.

When I reached chapter 12 of Rebuilding the Nest, I felt the time had finally come for me to revise the verse, especially Empty Nest, correct any errors I'd missed before, & clean up the time line inconsistencies. When I first started writing, I had no clear cut idea of how hybrids had come about or what they were like. I was just going with the usual trope flow. As chapters went on, I fell more & more back on my science fiction writing roots & established them as a single evolved race. That was my biggest change to Empty Nest & reason for the revision.

I hope you enjoy it.

Rebuilding the Nest - Sequel to Empty Nest and takes place immediately after. Kurt is a runaway, homeless feline hybrid. Burt and Carole are empty nesters who see him sleeping under their porch. During the months that follow, Kurt slowly learns to trust them. Unlocking the door to the Hummel's enclosed back porch was a huge step. There were so many more left to go.

Burt's Nest - This is a retelling of Empty Nest and Rebuilding the Nest from Burt’s POV. While it does stand alone, in order to fully understand Kurt’s actions and experiences, the original fics should be read first. In short: Burt discovers a homeless hybrid teenager sleeping under his front porch and takes him in. This fic let me get out all my parenting and love of Burt and Carole feels. If you notice a blatant take on the racism and homophobia pervading the U.S. in this dystopian verse, then I’ve done my job expressing part of the bag of emotions I feel as the parent of gay, POC, young adult son. The same trigger warnings for the previous fics apply here as well, though not all chapters have them. Please see the tags.

#author spotlight #coffeegleek

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thesparkinthefire · 4 years

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Ghost - Pedro Pascal x Reader, part 2

A/N: I finally, finally finished this. Wuhu! Part two of the Ghost series (that is turning into a three piece) is here for your entertainment. The musical mentioned later on is called Six and I am referring to the character of Katherine Howard, in case anyone is interested. I tried not to let the musical-nerd take over but I don’t know if that worked. I also wrote a bit about The Mandalorian and will just assume everyone who likes Pedro has already seen that, haha.

Word count: 3,729

Paaring: Pedro Pascal x musical!Reader

Trigger Warning: anxiety, age gap hinted, someone cried a bit

part one

“If there's anything left I can do to convince myself it could be true it's up to me, to suspend my disbeliefs.” - Suspend my disbeliefs, the Ghost cast album

You were nervous. More than that. Your confidence had gone missing two days ago and you started asking yourself why you had even accepted the role in the first place. You were portraying Molly. Molly. The female leading role of a musical based on a movie that everyone had seen. What made you think that it was a good idea in the first place?

Of course you and Oscar, who was playing Sam, had been practising for weeks but the premiere was only two days away. Two day. You had been staring at the script in front of you for ten minutes now. What was the line? This morning, when you had done your first run through you had remembered it but now it was gone – erased from your memory and you couldn't stop asking yourself how you were suppose to remember anything once you were on stage. No, you thought to yourself. Now was not the right time to panic. You just had to go through the whole scene and the line would come to you. Okay, breath. What was the scene?

Molly and Karl were sitting in a restaurant, talking about how she had information about Sam's murder. Sam, as a ghost, was standing beside them. While she was trying to convince Karl to believe what the fortune-teller had said. Suspend My Disbelieves was playing in the background. Molly was telling him the things the psychist had told her – the photo they took in an empty bus, the starfish in Montego Bay – and that Sam knew who killed him. Karl protests and Molly tells him, that she had a name and address and that Sam wants her to go to the police. “The police? Jesus, Molly,” says Karl. “What are you gonna tell them?” Sam talks in the background and Molly-... What does Molly say? Fuck.

It was gone. The line was gone, fucking vanished. You would never be able to do the whole show even though that was what you started with. Acting in a movie was so different to performing in a musical. When shooting a movie you had multiple takes to get a scene right – sometime you would even go back at a later point and rework it, when the writers changed a dialogue or something just wasn't right about it. But when you were doing a musical you normally only had about a month of rehearsals with the cast, before that you learned the songs on your own and had your vocals prepared for the assemble to join you. And then you rehearsed. And rehearsed and rehearsed. But there was no rewind once the show started. No one was gonna yell “Cut!” and ask you to do it again. The audience was right in front of you and they expected nothing less than you doing your job without any mistakes.

Musicals had always been your passion. You had been in music-focused classes in school giving you two extra music lessons a week and joined the school's choir as soon as you were allowed to. You had been taking dancing classes since you were a child. Playing theatre in the long summer holidays and visiting theatre camps. You had been growing up wanting to be a musical actress and your dream had become true when you joined a West End production in London. Your first role was in the assemble, the next was a side character and the next a main. People saw you had potential and they never regretted giving you a chance. Then you had the offer to play the female leading role in a teen-romance movie – before that you had never through about filming movies but you gave it a try and hell. It felt like a dream when they called you to tell you, that the statistics had been going through the roof. From one day to another your life changed completely. That was when you stopped playing theatre and musicals. You moved to California, after you had been offered a role in a promising movie series and then got the part in The Mandalorian. And met Pedro.

You grew up with Star Wars. Your whole childhood had been Star Wars themed – from birthday parties to the prequels in cinema to The Clone Wars series to reading literally every book out there. If there was anything you loved as much as you loved musicals it was Star Wars. You remembered your dad calling you “Padawan” when you were building birdhouses when you were ten years old. You remember presenting a Star Wars book in school. You even did your final oral exam in Spanish about Star Wars just because it was the only thing you could possible focus on other than musicals. So when you had the chance to be part of that universe you took it. Nothing could have kept you from doing it. You knew you would accept it before you even knew what the part would exactly be. When you met John and Dave – who were producing and writing The Mandalorian – you were shaking. You were so nervous that you felt like you were about to shit your pants at any minute, you chugged a whole glass of water during the meeting and just couldn't stop shaking. That's how excited you were. And it didn't get better when they told you about what they had planned for your character.

Aurine Jaxx – your character – was set to become something like the girlfriend to Din Djarin. Not really a girlfriend, because his life and story line was focused about The Child but you were introduced to show even more how much he struggled in between being a Mandalorian warrior and wanting to retire and just be human. You loved Pedro Pascal and how he portrayed Din. Of course you had seen the first season of the show. That scene in the last episode when the droid took his helmet off? Those were the only two minutes when your saw his face all season but the acting in this was fabulous. Messed up hair, trembling lips, shiny eyes – you were able to see how afraid of dying he was, even though it was something he had been confronted with every day of his life since he was a child. You were over the moon to be able to work with him.

Din met the fiance of Aurine in a dubious bar. He asked him to return his soon-to-be wife to him after she had ran away. Din, in need of a job after breaking with the guild, accepted and met her. But soon he found out that she was running from him, not because she was afraid to commit to a life with him, but because he was mistreating her, cheating on her and even threatening to physically hurt her. So Din took her with him instead of bringing her back to the fiance and she stayed. They grew closer and closer and he started trusting her more than anyone.

The scene you were the most nervous for was kissing him. Of course acting with someone who wore a helmet all the time wasn't easy but the kissing scene was way harder. It was set to be at night-time, The Child sleeping in the ship while Din and Aurine sat outside by a small campfire in the middle of nowhere. You had to close your eyes and he placed his hand above them just to be sure you wouldn't be able to look. You remember his hands being cold, contrasting the warm breath in your skin. His lips ghosted over yours, before he kissed you. He was so gentle and shy about it, while you moved a hand into his hair and pulled him closer. Soft lips on yours while his fingers painted feather-light touches on your cheek. Watching the scene back was sending shivers down your spine. Kissing Pedro Pascal wasn't something you ever thought you would. He was such a talented actor that you were almost sure he wasn't acting in that scene, that he had really been nervous to kiss you. Maybe you were hoping for it. But obviously that wasn't the case. He was a brilliant actor.

And now you were here. Back at playing musicals, what you had started with, and you never felt so insecure in your whole life. Confidence was the key to a good stage presence and you had lost it all. So when you got a text from Pedro you basically lost it. All he sent was “How are you doing? Haven't heard from you all day.” but it made you tear up immediately. Without sparing a second thought you asked him, if he wanted to come over because you were about to freak out. “Be there in 15.”

Pedro had a talent for calming your nerves – he had proven that a few times during your time together at press-tour for The Mandalorian. Interviews made you nervous especially if they were live or in front of a huge audience. You were always afraid you might say something the fans wouldn't be pleased with or even accidentally spoiling the show. He made sure you drank enough throughout the day, got enough rest, and always had some sweets for you before an interview to push your blood sugar and stop your hands from shaking. His touch was calming and comforting but made your heart race at the same time. In a good way. Saying, you didn't like being close to him, would be lying. He held your hand at crowded places, had an arm over the backrest of your seat during interviews and sometimes even cuddled with you in cold planes. You have had a few movie nights over the weeks you have been touring, because the hype for the second season was enormous, and they always ended the same: Watching maybe half of the movie before one of you fell asleep. You have been falling asleep on his shoulder and woken up to the beat of his heart.

So it was no surprise to you, that he showed up at your door with a bar of chocolate and two beer. “Do you think alcohol is the thing I need right now?”

“Alcohol calms one's nerves,” he answered with a smile, handing you the beer and the chocolate, after you had let him inside. “You said you were freaking out and I guessed it was because of the premiere, so I brought you something to help you calm a bit.”

“But alcohol is not the best thing for your voice.”

“It is not?”

“Not for your singing voice,” you confirmed, dropping onto the sofa. You put your head back and closed your eyes. You shouldn't be bitching around – you had asked him to come over. “Sorry, I am just stressed. I keep forgetting that one line I have right before the break and the thought that that might happen on stage, in front of the audience, scares me.”

Pedro sat down beside you, gaze wandering over you. “I get that but you are gonna be okay. You are a great actress and do musicals just as well.”

“You have never seen me perform a musical.”

“Internet,” he admitted, causing you to open your eyes and tilting your head into his direction. “Don't look at me like that, you have watched my former projects too. You have basically seen me naked.”

“Well, that's because your projects were big and highly advertised – unlike the small musicals I took part in. You can only watch them because of illegal uploads on YouTube.” Oh, some of those YouTube videos had the potential to drive him mad.

The musical you had gotten a leading role in was about girl power and women realizing, that they should work together and hype each other instead of comparing one another. He loved that message, really, but what he loved more was you. And that little of a costume you were wearing. You were basically in nothing more than tights, a bodysuit and a see-through skirt on stage. Maybe it was fate that no videos of your solo song were online – the song was rather sexy and Pedro didn't know if he would have been able to handle seeing you in that costume, singing about men wanting you.

“I like to do my research on the people I work with.”

You couldn't fight the smile forming on your lips. “I should have done a deep dive into my brain before I accepted the role. Seriously, I don't think I can do it. I might just pass out right before the curtain opens.”

“You will do great,” he assured you.

“I won't.” You got up to get a bottle opener from your kitchen. “I can't even remember that one line.”

“Let me help.” You sat back down, handed Pedro the opener after you had opened you own beer and took a sip. “Which scene are we talking about?” He had the script in his hands already. Oscar and you had him over for practise a few times, so he knew most of the scenes you shared.

“The one where Molly first tells Karl that Sam had been murdered. I know that Sam says something like “Jesus, Molly, what are you gonna tell them?” and then I am suppose to say something but I can't remember it at all. I have been going through the scene a million times now – talking it through, acting through it, but nothing helps.”

“No wonder you don't remember what you are suppose to say.” He laughed quietly and you really didn't know what on earth was funny about that. “You are singing.”

“I am-” All of a sudden the line was back in your head as if it had never been gone. Of course! “Suspend my disbelieves.” Pedro nodded. “Oh, thank god, I am not going crazy!”

“You are gonna have the music on stage that will remind you, that you have to sing – don't worry.”

“That is the problem, you know? I used to not be this worried when it came to musicals. I used to be so confident in what I am doing but it is all gone now. When did that happen?”

“You just haven't performed in front of an audience for a long time. That happens to me too when I go back from cinema and TV to theatre.” You had almost forgotten about that. On one hand you would love to see him in a play, but that would mean he would stay in his home in New York, while you were Los Angeles based right now. You didn't even think about the possibility about him moving back to the opposite side of the country once all deals and meetings for his next projects were done. He had stayed in his LA apartment ever since you met him, except for the time between Christmas and the new year. How were you suppose to survive here without him? “Do you want to sing one of the songs? Music always seems to calms you.”

The question hit you out of the blue but he was right. You had a playlist full of songs that soothed you and you had used it more than once since the rehearsals had started. “Y-yeahr,” you answered, nodded, and moved over to your piano. “Can I sing a sad song?”

“You mean Without You? I haven't heard you sing that one yet.” Of course he had listened to the original cast record. Why haven't you thought about that? Yes, he had heard some songs of the production you were working on, but mainly the ones you shared with Oscar. And there wouldn't be an album for your cast.

“Okay, I will try to do that.”

“You will be great.” His words made your heart skip a beat. How was he able to smooth you with such a simple sentence?

“But you gotta stay behind me – I don't like seeing people stare at me when I sing.”

“Says you, the musical actress?” He had to hold back a laugh.

“Performing on stage in front of an audience of hundreds is something else than performing for one person in my living room.”

“Okay, I'll give you that. Go ahead.” Pedro moved to stand behind you, the beer still in his hand. You sat everything up and took a deep breath before you started the song. It was probably the most emotional moment of the whole show, besides the final. Molly was mourning Sam with that song, expressing the pain of losing him and how she tried to deal with it. Performing it in the play was hard, because you were on the edge of crying for real most of the times. Of course you had lost people close to you in your young life already, but part of the song also reminded you of Pedro and how hopeless your love for him was. He probably saw himself as a mentor of your, I not even a father figure. But you couldn't stop seeing him in front of your inner eyes among the line “Every place I wanna be, I wanna see you there.” You wanted him by your side. You wanted him to be your date for the premiere and the after show party. You didn't want him to go back to New York, you wanted him to stay with you in LA. You wanted him to hold you when times were as stressful as they were right now. You wanted him to kiss you, to wrap his arms around you and to tell you, that no matter what happened, he would be by your side. And you wanted him to mean it. To feel the same. To love you. God, you wished he would love you.

By the end of the song your heart was aching. It was hurting and you were glad, that he didn't say a word for a minute. You could just pretend that you were in your role and he would understand that the song made you sad, because it made Molly sad. But just as you were about to crack a lame joke about it, you heard a sniff. And it didn't come from you. “Are you-” You turned around to see Pedro having his back turned to you, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Are you crying?”

“No.” His voice was shaking. Slowly he turned back facing you, lips curled to a small smile. “Absolutely not.” His eyes were a little red and shiny. He was crying.

“Oh god, I am sorry.” You stood up and went to hug him.

“Just proves what a great actress you are.” He returned it. You closed your eyes, leaned your head against him and took a quiet but deep breath. Was it selfish? Maybe. But perhaps you needed the comfort just as much as he did. Just in a different way. Feeling his warm body against your own. His hair tickled your ear. God, he smelled good. Something you had always liked about him. You couldn't define it, but it was good. Everything about him was good. And you regretted nothing more, than that you had never asked him out, never had made a move on him.

Taglist: @longitud-de-onda

#Ronja writes #Ghost #Pedro Pascal x reader #pedro pascal #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #narcos #The mandalorian #triple frontier #game of thrones #star wars the clone wars #I still don't know how to tag

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t100ficrecsblog · 4 years

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an interview with @burninghoneyatdusk (she/her) What are you working on right now? Right now I’m prioritizing prompts for the Bellarke Writers for BLM Initiative, which is a mix of new prompts and requests for WIP updates. I just posted a chapter update of my fic Voices in the Water, which is a canon-verse/everyone is a grounder arranged marriage AU with a bit of a twist, and next I’m working on a new prompt. After that, I’ve got three chapters of All Because of You requested. All Because of You is a modern AU with bellarke as *platonic* coparents. The story is told in alternating flashbacks and present day (every other chapter). The flashbacks focus on them growing closer during Clarke’s unplanned pregnancy and the present is seven years later, where they have to come to terms with their feelings for each other when Clarke gets engaged to someone else.

What’s something you’d like to write one day? I would love to publish a novel one day. For years I had a YA dystopian/time travel trilogy kind of planned but I poked too many holes in it and want to start from scratch in that regard. Another novel I want to write is one that covers three generations of women, looking at mother-daughter relationships, women in society, generational trauma… a lot of stuff. It was inspired by learning about my grandmother’s life more and thinking about how it impacted her relationship with my mother, and in turn my mother’s relationship with me.

For fanfiction, beyond my current prompts and WIPs, I have two other fics outlined. One is an AU inspired by the movie Plus One. The other is a soulmate AU that’s a bit dark and involves immortality, magic, and essentially Bellamy as a villain with a redemption arc.

What is the fanwork you’re most proud of? I think All Because of You will probably remain my most popular, but right now I’m most proud of Voices in the Water. More so than my other fics, it has a more concise plot and I’ve done a deeper dive into Clarke’s character as an Azgeda assassin and I think the reader really gets into her head more than my other multiple POV fics. It’s also my first canonverse fic and I’ve enjoyed diving into that world and expanding upon it where I want.

When did you first start writing fic? I didn’t start writing fic until the beginning of 2019. I first published in February 2019, which was Homesick (It’s a Bittersweet Feeling). It was my first fic and the only multichapter WIP that’s complete right now, so it’s a special story for me.

What frustrates you most about fic writing? I’ve mostly had only a positive experience with fanfic writing. With the exception of a couple stray comments, my readers have been gracious, kind, and most importantly, patient. But I guess it can be challenging when you self-impose pressure because you’re aware that people are waiting for you to publish so sometimes I rush things. I haven’t personally experienced this, but I think that fic writing can also be frustrating when readers feel like you owe them something or unnecessarily offer negative comments that aren’t at all constructive. Some people forget that people are publishing stories for free, in their spare time, often in addition to full-time jobs or school and parenting.

What are your top five songs right now? 1. castles (freya ridings) 2. maniac (conan gray) 3. fired up (grace carter) 4. I am not afraid (g flip) 5. wanna be (betty who)

What are your inspirations? (books, songs, other fic) I take inspiration from all of those things but I would say mostly quotes and random photos on tumblr. I wrote Homesick because I liked the step-siblings/forbidden trope and wanted to write in a small town setting like the one I grew up in. All Because of You was honestly the classic “this is my bedtime daydream story I think about every night” so it’s pretty self-indulgent with the tropes I wanted to use. Voices in the Water was started because I loved the grounder!Bellamy / arranged marriage trope. The wanheda twist came from me reading the 4x11 script to screen with Clarke trying to force herself to shoot Bellamy to save humanity, but realizing that she can’t.

What first attracted you to Bellarke? What attracts you now? I’m not sure I remember a specific moment but I think I remember bellarke being all over my tumblr dash when I started s2 so kind of paying close attention to them during s2. s2 was of course a great season for them and by the ‘knocking on heaven’s door’ scene in 2x16 I was a goner.

Regarding what drew me to them, I think I’ve always loved a good slow burn with the partners/”I’ve got your back” vibe that they have. My first (and biggest) OTP before them was tony & ziva from NCIS which is a really similar vibe although a very different show.

Besides Bellarke, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? I think that Memori is probably my second place ship. Before s7, I would say there was a HUGE gap between my love of Bellarke and Memori, but this season has made me an even bigger Memori fan. I have to say that while I don’t think there was ever a chance of Murven happening, I do understand why people ship it. I think they have great chemistry/a great dynamic and in another life, so to speak, I would have shipped them.

Regarding characters on their own, I just love all my delinquents, but I think that Murphy is solidly my third favorite character. Raven and Octavia are probably tied behind him.

Why did you decide to start bellarkefic-for-blm? I credit the reason to Kara ( @queenemori ). (Sidenote: everyone go follow her! She’s an amazing fanfic writer and overall just a really positive, awesome person to have in the fandom). I remember reading her post - and I won’t try to paraphrase, so please take the time to read her it - but in general it got me thinking about how we as a fandom could support the BLM movement in a substantial way that is more than just spreading posts on social media, and in a way that doesn’t lose momentum as time goes on and the movement becomes less “trendy.” I thought about how many people collectively read our fanfiction and how we provide it for free, and if people could just pay a few dollars or however much they can afford and donate that to the cause, we collectively could make a huge difference. So that’s what I’m hoping this is - making a substantial difference in a way that doesn’t fade in time and also uses the power of fandom in a useful way. We have a lot of power if we collectively put it towards something like this instead of fighting over ships or actors or whatnot. I also figured that maybe we’d have readers who weren’t paying attention to the movement and that maybe because they want to submit a prompt, they’d do some research on where to donate, and that in turn helps educate them on the issue - or is at least a start.

Has it been as successful as you’d hoped? So on the positive side, I do think it’s incredible that in about six weeks we’ve raised nearly $1250 and have been able to donate to a variety of organizations. I’m incredibly grateful for the authors donating their time and the enthusiastic readers participating. I don’t mean to sound negative at all, but if I’m being honest, I do feel a little frustration at the lack of participation across the fandom as a whole or maybe more specifically across the AO3 readers. I know that my WIP chapters average about 1k hits per update. That’s a lot of people. Even if you cut that in half because maybe people are rereading, that’s still 500 people. So why are only about 20 of my readers donating to this initiative? I think it’s a bit discouraging when you look at the percentage in that way.

That’s not to say that I don’t understand that some aren’t financially in a position to donate, but I’ve made it clear that there are other ways to contribute (e.g. signing petitions, writing to politicians) and there hasn’t been traction with that either. So I think that in general, something is always better than nothing and it has in no way discouraged me from continuing this. But I’m hoping that more people are able to participate as time goes on. It’s truly a win-win situation of generating more fanfics for readers and donating to an important issue, so I hope to see the percentage of fanfiction readers submitting prompts increase and am doing what I can to continue spreading the word about it.

I guess in summary what I’m saying is, I’m proud of what the fandom has done so far, but let’s step it up. We can do more, we can do better. Maybe people will get pissed I said that, but idk. If you read fic and can buy a $3 coffee, you can donate to this cause. It’s important. As was Kara’s point, let’s not see this momentum fade when the BLM movement becomes less ~trendy~.

What are some things you’d like to recommend? Instead of writing an essay about all the fics I love, I’d like to link both my bookmarked fics which is my complete list of bellarke fic recs.

I also want to recommend visiting the Bellarke Writers for BLM Initiative writers’ page - these writers are incredible so please go check out their existing works and continue requesting prompts for the BLM movement!

On the note of BLM, I'd also like to link this article. It's older, written in the aftermath of the Charleston attack, but it remains one of the most thought provoking pieces I've read on race in our country.

it was my honor to interview burninghoneyatdusk! honestly, if you aren’t reading Voices in the Water, which is Bellarke except Clarke is an assassin, you should be. it haunts me. she also organized the very cool bellarkefic-for-blm.

#bellarke fic #bellarke #the 100 fanfiction #memori #clarke griffin #interview

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prairiedust · 4 years

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Gimme Shelter livewatch under the cut.... I was on my phone when I wrote it so apologies for the typos

“Patchwork Community Center: Care Given to All” with a huge, lurid heart. Hmmm.... patchwork having two meanings here.....

Pastor (?) has 2 Timothy 2:22 tattooed on his arm! “Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.” (NIV) Are we looking at growth and found family in this episode?!?

Oh that’s the alleyway!

Hitting mythology themes— Connor is an Anglicized version of an Irish name— Conchobar mac Nessa is maybe the most famous bearer of the name, from Irish mythology— he’s the king who lusted after Deirdre and had her locked up until she came of age, which is probably neither here nor there as far as this poor Connor is concerned...

That thing has a big lurid heart on his overalls better run lol— Oh shit it’s an evil Teddy Ruxpin!!!! Thanks Davy Perez!!!!

That’s the thing animal control uses to manage aggressive animals??? Is this saying something about the Patchwork people?

And that’s it for the cold open.

——

The uh, the mcfuckin what, the Camelot Palace Casino? Is this a tour of the legends of Ireland and Britain all of a sudden? What’s with hitting this theme so hard so fast?

Uh-oh the whole Highway to Heaven reference has me side-eyeing Dean’s suggestion for Cas snd Jack to leave the bunker... Dabb even “spoiled” that line in a tweet lol... in that show the cop and the angel got their (vague) assignments from the big guy.......

Oh SHIT “we’re standing in what I call ‘the trap zone’” Perez is coming for my whole life with this episode!!!! And they’re doing highkey “season one totally-normal Winchester investigation questions script” I love it!!!!

“Slasher flick” Oh we’re revisiting Mint Condition. This is fine.

AND TOMBSTONE THIS IS NOT FINE DAVY! We’re running the good times backwards what did I say about this being the flipside of Last Holiday!

H2H again but this time it’s sus... plus I’m with Zack, I totally want the cozy murder spinoff I imagined Adam and Michael doing plz

Oh the Cas and Jack dynamic here is so sweet.

Pastor just leaving his door open like there’s no such thing as a thief bless his heart. They must be torn up about Connor but Pastor was the last one to talk to him so he’s sus I don’t make the rules.

Oh no Red’s a THIEF!!! Who ever would have guessed. Okay I did NOT expect that jumpscare because of the way Connor’s murder primed me, that was masterfully done.

That’s vaguely an Ohio Star quilt square on the sign behind her except um I forget what that tilted square in the center turns it into? It’s chiming with something... I’ll have to look that up later.

“Divide and conquer” no never split up in a slasher movie that’s how you get murders use the buddy system!

Gonna stop a sec because I just realized that Zack is two-faced. The British dandy was an act. The killer is wearing a Cinderella mask. Ok I’m gonna make a prediction that Zack is actually the killer, a la the demon in Repo Man...

Okay there was definitely a beat after Dean said “Glad soneone’s taking charge” [ofHell] and the focus shifted to Sam. Hm.

“We’ve got to set her up for her own death” so meta, these writers are gonna shred us.

I love being shown how much Castiel has changed throughe Jack not understanding the Kool-Aid reference. And the cats line lol. That’s both amazing and poignant.

That’s a log cabin pattern in the cafeteria. Home. Makes me think back on other quilts we’ve seen this season and if “weaving” is the right metaphor for writing lol. I mean, the action of “patching” is synonymous with “mending” or even healing, but patchwork is also a craft with a long, long history in America (idk if quiltmaking is called patchwork everywhere) of taking a few often mismatched fabrics and cutting and sewing into something beautiful. There are generally two kinds of quilt tops— patterns, like we’ve seen so far in this season, which are carefully planned and involve precise measurements, and “crazy quilts” which also require skill but are often more freeform and piecemeal. But both aspire to be beautiful. That’s an interesting way to conceptualize a serial text... as both creating and mending....

That prayer was sweet and not at all what I was expecting.

I get the finger-cutting for Valerie (stealing=sticky fingers) but not for Connor? Tenuous connection still betw lying and writing? It��s evocative of Se7en but the killer seems to have the same MO for all the killings (I attended CSI for a while.)

Snow White is making me uneasy. Oh she’s the preacher’s daughter... we’ve seen that in early days, too.... oh.... oh....

It’s not the AV guy despite having seen all the AV equipment around Valerie. That’s too easy.

“A saint is a sinner who keeps trying-“ no scroll back, the important part was “we all have to take care of each other.” That’s a theme in the series.

She’s all in pink....

dean and amara on the same wavelength about food lol

Ha ha inversion of “oh you’re a fan of religion? name all seven gods then.”

Castiel’s testimony just wrecked me.

“Members serve the gift of food” hmmm the signs in this episode are tip-top

Gonna just watch for a while.

Oh crap “each is a finger” oh it’s about the sins of the father— No Cas no, you’ve fallen for the misdirection!

Oh okay good, Chuck’s not done snuffing worlds. That had me REALLY WORKED UP ha ha because Amara has no reason to lie right?

That was a really good conversation.... and implying that Former Death bent the truth...

Oh fuck I’m gonna cry “I wanted younto see that your mother was just a person” YES! DISMANTLE THIS MYTHOLOGY AMARA!!! Name it!

THE MYTH THAT YOU’D HELD ON TO FOR SO LONG did they just— THEY DID

rigging the game— ftfoh with the casino metaphors already we know the house always wins except when it doesn’t

Lying, lying, lying,

Do we even know Snow White’s name yet? And why was Connor a liar? Because I think we can make a guess at this point.... ah ha ha her name is sylvia— “forest spirit” she’s Mrs Butters— and she’s after hypocrites— but the killing isn’t supernatural, just churchy?

Oh shit SHE IS A DEAN MIRROR IF SHE STABS JACK I’LL FLIP A DAMN TABLE

....

prairiedust.exe has encountered an error and must be restarted

....

Okay so “Dad” steps in and stops Sylvia’s attack on Jack...

Why is that Zack? What????

“I’ve been lying to you” oh here we go

Oh it would be death #3, remember what Dabb said about threes a long time ago, two attempts that are unsuccessful and one that satisfies the parameters— but no he’s a jack :((((

I have to stop watching for a while.

Okay I finished it. Holy cats do I have some Thoughts about this episode.

What I loved: Revisiting Dean’s anger, BUT the parental mirror here (in retrospect, at least for me) was a John mirror-- all the mothers (exc for Rowena) in this episode are dead. And Pastor Joe didn’t apparently embrace his wife’s faith until she had died, and then his vision was radically different than his wife’s was-- much like John’s reasons for becoming a hunter were vastly different from Mary’s... but much like “patching” this subtext was possibly even more “healing” than having John back in the 300th ep... This was... looking at a child’s anger when they’re in the middle of their own family mythology. Am I implying that Dean’s anger is immaturity? Eh, it’s... unripeness. I have an old meta in my drafts about the heroine’s journey and why Mary’s story conformed to it while feeling totally unfulfilling in her actual character arc and I’m so glad I sat down and examined that rather than finish it. I have a lot I want to say about Cas’ testimony too, but that has to sit a while. ALSO also, Cas has already thrown away his shot by making the Empty deal, right?....

LANGUAGE! Cas saying “I found myself lost” is a bonkers sentence, right? It’s like when people say someone “turned up missing”-- AND it does not have the same meaning as “I realized I was lost”-- you get a double whammy of the connotation “to search for.” I loved loved loved how language was such a big deal in Last Holiday and then again here, I need to rewatch while paying closer attention to Sylvia and things she says... but these two were sister episodes in so many ways, that when I said there was a “lack of narrative mirrors” in Last Holiday, that’s only because the lens for that kind of reading is Gimme Shelter. That is not the first time spn has played with a “coin” or paired structure-- I think the first time I noticed it was Fan Fiction/Ask Jeeves but I was a transfer student from another fandom at the time lol. But of course, we get a huge truth bomb at the end of the episode, and again that splashy cymbal all over lying...

What I got wrong-- Zack wasn’t the killer but he’s fishy as hell-- he stole Sylvia! Is this part of Rowena’s “people generally end up where they deserve to be” except she’s built in an express lane? “Do you need a driver” is that his actual job now? Taking unripe souls to Hell Orientation? What’s up with him being there... the other shoe did not drop. So there is a third episode out there somewhere where this might get wrapped up? The conversation between Dean and Cas can easily be something that happens offscreen, and I don’t think that it would be the first time we miss an “important” conversation, especially since we know roughly what will be said and how it will wrap up-- it’s an “open text” of a sort. Maybe a fanfiction gap lol, I can’t wait for the codas.

Also, the fingers thing being Sylvia’s father’s favorite analogy is where she got her MO, something that I definitely didn’t see, although it fits right in with her father’s slightly pithy character. I think it’s interesting again how we’re playing with threes and fours. Three fingers got cut off but it was apparent that Valerie (valorious one) wouldn’t die until finger #4.... Jack really seems to be our last hope.

#the folklore of supernatural #the mythology of supernatural #mary winchester #davy perez #the second timothy of supernatural #gimme shelter #season 15 #my mom gave me the family baby name book when i was about eleven and so i had an obsession with names #all of my characters in all of my stories had Important Symbolic Names LOL #it amused my father who told me I needed to read herman melville #and there's a little bit of my own family mythos.#now i harangue my own kid to write and stuff ha ha ha except instead of a baby name book i gave him watership down #same effect #more rabbit fighting

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the-angriestpineapple · 4 years

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fanatic // bakugou x fem reader

Bakugou Katsuki, pro Hero Ground Zero, meets one of his biggest fans and gets roped into walking her home. He finds out just how big a fan she is. NOTES: So this was my first xreader fic. I wrote it basically for one of my partners @spacebunnywrites before he was one of my partners. It’s a rough dom Bakugou but there’s some aftercare I promise. Tags: all the holes, rough sex, toys, some embarrassment. x male here x nonbi coming soon -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re on your way home from a coffee date with friends when you hear the first explosion. It’s coming from somewhere vaguely to your left, eyes immediately shifting in that direction in time to see some civilians fleeing onto your current street from an alley. Your heart stops in your chest, but not from fear. It can’t be… you think. He’s never in this district. But you need to check, and your legs are moving toward the gap in the buildings before you’re really thinking about it. Soon you’re running through the narrow passage, pulse quickening as the sound of the blasts grow closer. You’re almost there, you just need to see -

You skid to a stop at the alley mouth, eyes widening as a heated explosion rockets past you followed by a maniacally grinning blonde.

“Die!!”

Oh my god it’s him! Bakugou Katsuki, pro Hero Ground Zero, in the flesh. Your heart stops again as you watch him sail through the air, so elegant in movement despite his abrasive quirk and even more abrasive personality. Most of your friends fantasized about Midoriya Izuku – Deku – the shy green haired number one hero or Kirishima Eijirou – Red Riot – the sturdy number three hero and Ground Zero’s battle partner. But you? Your heart beats for the wild blonde with the crazy smile who constantly pushes the limits.

The battle was moving down the street. You had to get closer. Where all of the sane people were running away from the dueling villains and heroes you were running closer. This was the first time you had ever seen Ground Zero in person and would likely be the last – he was never in your district and you honestly didn’t know why he was now. That didn’t matter though, he was here and you’d watch him fight or die trying.

You at least had some sense of self-preservation, ducking behind sturdy objects so that you wouldn’t get hit with some flying shrapnel. You watch in awe as your favorite pro Hero uses his quirk to shoot through the air and slam into one of the villains, giving an appreciative sigh. Fuck, he is so hot. You’re so focused on watching the explosion hero in action that you don’t notice there is an additional fight right behind you, that Red Riot is sparring with a huge muscular villain. The red haired hero slams the guy into the wall, but your ears are ringing from being so close to Ground Zero’s detonations already that you don’t hear it. Then Ground Zero looks at you. Your eyes lock. Your heart stops. His mouth is moving, making words, and the look on his face goes from sheer confidence to panic.

The world around you starts moving again and you hear ‘hey, LOOK OUT!’ before something slams into your head and you fall to the ground, the world going dark.

“Is she okay?”

“Fuck if I know, shitty hair, but at least the bleeding stopped.”

Oh fuck.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? A medic team will be here shortly and we didn’t want to move you.” The sturdy hero has concern pouring out of his tone, his eyes flicking your face for any sign of pain.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ground Zero hisses out, his eyes narrowing further than they already were.

“Bakubro, don’t be like that! She’s a civilian, she probably got trapped! She WAS right in between our fights after all!” Red Riot frowns at the blonde who is still glaring daggers at you. “You gotta work on your image man, your publicist is gonna straight up kill you one day.”

“Fuck off, Kiri.” Your eyes are focused on Ground Zero, frowning at the anger that is radiating off of him. You knew he was like this but it’s different, feeling it directed at you instead of at villains or press. Both heroes look up as an ambulance squeals up, followed by police cars to apprehend the villains. Red Riot immediately pops up and waves an arm.

“Hey, she’s over here!” Ground Zero is still staring at you as Kirishima gets the attention of the paramedics. Red Riot returns quickly, flanked by two more people. “Hey, there are healers here to take care of you.”

“She’s all set.” The medic, Nightingale, steps back and goes with her partner back to the ambulance. You sit up, automatically steadied by Riot’s large hands.

“Careful, uh...”

“(Y/N).” Your voice sounds a little raspier than usual and you wince.

“(Y/N). It’s nice to meet you! I’m Kirishima, and this is Bakugou. Can we escort you home to make sure you make it okay?” Ground Zero’s eye daggers are now aimed at Red Riot and you hide a smile behind your hand.

“That would be great, actually.” You hope that you look calm on the outside because your heart is hammering WILDLY in your chest. Ground Zero walking you back to your apartment. Your mind races with all the ways that could end, except now he’s back to glaring daggers at you.

Ground Zero rolls his eyes and stands, the movement as graceful as a dancer. “Fine, I have shit to do anyway.” “Yeah, like walking this one home.” Red Riot stared at his friend, Ground Zero glaring back, before the blonde hero tossed his head back with a sigh.

“Fucking FINE. Whatever. Let’s go.” He yanks you up, ignoring Red Riot’s protests of being careful with you. You let out a squeal of protest on your own, attempting to pull your arm back out of his gloved hand. He’s strong though, so much stronger than you ever imagined.

“Wait, Ground Zero, Ground Zero STOP!” You yank hard on your arm, stumbling back when he lets you go and whips around to face you.

“What?!”

You huff, scowling back at him. “You’re going the wrong way.”

His eyes narrow. “Well you didn’t tell me where you fucking live.”

“I didn’t get a chance to! You just dragged me off like some kind of fucking animal!”

“The fuck did you just say?” Ground Zero closes the distance between you two, his crimson eyes glaring into your (e/c) ones.

“I said… you dragged me off like some kind of animal.” He may be the object of all of your carnal lusts but you were not about to be rag-dolled through the city. At least, not in this manner. You don’t flinch as he glares at you, feeling a thrill of victory as he emits a growl.

“Fucking… fine. Come on then. Which way.” His voice is low, and you can hear the annoyance laced through it. You grin and head off in a different direction, looking behind you at the angry blonde planted in the sidewalk.

“Well come on, Red Riot will be pissed if you leave me alone.” You smirk as his scowl deepens. Since he more or less promised your safety to his partner that left you free to push his buttons. You weren’t very happy about being yanked like that but fuck you loved the aggression that the blonde exuded. Every scowl and squint was sending chills down your spine and you wanted to see if you could get him yelling at you before you got back to your apartment. Fuck, that would give you something to get off to for months.

You annoyed him with chatter and banter for the whole ten minute walk to your small apartment, easily swapping between teasing him (there’s a hole in your uniform Ground Zero, are you getting slow?) and yammering about anything and everything happening around you. Ground Zero might think it was nerves, and he wouldn’t be entirely wrong. Your nerves were alive like sparklers, bright and heated, but it was mostly the thrill of watching the storm cloud that darkened your favorite hero’s face as you walk.

You’re twirling as you go down the sidewalk, generally making a nuisance of yourself just to annoy Ground Zero further, when suddenly you’re overcome with a dizzy spell. You stop twirling and put a hand to your head, the world spinning around you as you start to fall. You hear loud boot stomps and then strong arms are wrapping around you, catching you before you hit the ground.

“Fuck, do you have no sense of self-preservation? Why would you do shit like that after you just had a head injury?” Ground Zero has you fixed with that same angry scowl and you smiled up at him. You felt almost drunk, and you reach out and ‘boop’ the hero’s nose. He snarls. “Which fucking apartment building is yours, you shitty fuck.” Your arm flops toward your building and he grumbles as he takes off to it, carrying you bridal-style in his arms.

Your head is lolling back and he’s cursing under his breath. “Fuck. Which apartment? Where are your keys?” Your hand slips into your pocket and vaguely fishes out your keys, promptly dropping them on the ground. Ground Zero curses again and crouches easily to pick them up. Your fuzzy brain has it together enough to be impressed that he’s able to squat and snatch your keys from the pavement like you weigh nothing. So strong. Swoon.

Ground Zero carries you easily up the stairs to the third floor. Luckily your apartment number is on a tag on your key so he easily finds it. You aren’t really paying attention as he unlocks your door and swings it open, stepping into your home. You feel him pause, his eyes sweeping the area. You live alone and your home is small, but it’s cozy and you love it. There’s a mass of pillows by the window in the main room and he decides that is the best place to lay you. You squirm on the pillows once you’re there, trying to make yourself comfortable, and he watches you with a scowl. He knows for a damn fact that if he leaves you before you’re coherent that Kirishima will have his hide, so he’s trapped here until you wake up. Great.

He might as well try to find your bathroom and some medication, you’re bound to have a headache when you wake up. There’s only one door off the space you’re both currently in so without hesitation he crosses to it and moves to open it. You open one eye in time to see Ground Zero’s hand wrap around the knob to your bedroom and you squeak out a weak protest, but the door opens. Ground Zero stands in the doorway, frozen.

“...What the fuck is this.”

He whirls on you, his eyes narrow. “You weren’t trapped between our fights. You came specifically to watch me.” It’s not a question and your cheeks color as you nod. He inhales and turns from you, stepping into your bedroom and looking around at the amount of stuff. Posters, figurines, plush pillows that look like his grenade gauntlets. His eyes sweep your bed and pause at the elongated shape hidden under the blankets. Without asking for permission he rips back the black and orange comforter and you gasp as he reveals a body pillow of himself.

“Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?” Luckily it’s on the tame side and not the lewd side. Then Ground Zero flips the pillow over. He looks at you with raised eyebrows. Your face colors and you turn your face from him, so you miss the cocky smirk that graces his lips for a split second.

“If you have this so brazenly in your bed, what the fuck else are you hiding in here?” You eke out another protest as he prowls around to the other side of your bed, zeroing in on a pair of doors. He opens the first, but it’s your small bathroom. The blonde hero shoots you a look and closes it, then grins as he opens the other one. “People always hide weird shit in their closets…” He rips the door open and instead of a quick look like he did in the bathroom he’s pulling your hanging clothes to the side, checking the floor, sweeping his hands on the shelf. He finds the thing you’re dreading quickly – a small box shoved in the corner of your highest shelf. “Hmm. Looks suspicious.” He pops it open with a smirk that quickly vanishes, and you want to sink into the floor and die. You know exactly what’s in the box, and there’s a reason it’s hidden where it is.

Ground Zero holds up the bondage harness as you watch, mortified, his eyes sweeping the black and orange straps. "Is this... is this official merch? I'm going to kill my entire marketing team."

"No. I, um..." You swallow, averting your eyes as your cheeks flush. "I made it."

Ground Zero stares at you for a second, then a grin slowly curls up the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? You made it?"

You nod. "There's, um. There's matching arm binders that look like your gauntlets. And leg binders that look like your boots." You risk raising your eyes to look at him and you feel the breath knocked out of you at the hungry, feral look in his eyes.

"Put it on then, if you're so desperate for my cock. Fucking earn it." His grin widens as he throws the harness at you.

You catch it, acting more out of reflex than anything. “What?!”

“I’m not going to say it again. Put. It. On.”

His voice is like steel and you drop the harness on your bed, hands going to your shirt. Fuck, was this really happening? Were you really going to do this? You hesitate as you toy with the hem of your shirt and Ground Zero uncrosses his arms, cupping his palms, and lets off a few warning sparks. Your heart leaps into your throat and you yank the shirt over your head, throwing it nearly across your room before yanking off your pants and kicking them after the shirt. You look at Ground Zero as you stand in your underwear, and he motions to the small garments. Your face heats up as you slowly slide those off too. At his raised brow you pick up the harness, carefully stepping into it.

“So I’m the only one to see you like this, hah?” His voice is low and rumbling, hot like raked coals. You shudder and nod. He pulls the strap he’s tying tighter and leans into your ear. “Good. It had better fucking stay that way.” The words spike directly to your core and you groan, immediately moving to slap a hand over your mouth. He just chuckles darkly and finishes tightening the straps, and you look down on yourself. The harness is very nice, if you do say so yourself. You can’t help but feel a little proud of your handiwork.

Then you notice Ground Zero holding the arm and leg binders and grinning.

You immediately start to shake your head but he just grins wider. “Ah ah, you made them, you must want to wear them.” You’re only semi-surprised at the skill and nimbleness that he exudes to get you locked into these binders, and you wonder if this is something he does regularly. Your arms are twisted behind your back and locked into place, and Ground Zero guides you down to the floor so he can use the leg binders to keep you in a kneeling position. It’s a good thing he has those huge knee pads on his hero outfit – they provide an excellent cushion from your hardwood floor. You’re glad you included them.

“There. And now that you’re all nice and tied up…” He walks to the front of you as he removes his gloves and reaches down, a calloused thumb teasing at your lower lip. You immediately open your mouth and he gives an approving rumble deep in his throat, using the pad of his thumb to stroke your eager tongue. You roll your eyes back in your head at the flavor – he tastes like rich caramel. The scent rises off of him now that his hands are so close to your face. You’re vaguely aware that it has something to do with his quirk, and that the nitroglycerin he sweats can be toxic, but you’re way too into him being in your mouth to care about that detail. He grasps your chin with his fingertips, holding your jaw in place from the inside. You give a small whine, closing your mouth to suck on his thumb.

“Let’s see now. I’ve already checked the closet, how about this drawer?” He moves to your nightstand and yanks open a drawer, but all that’s in it are a few odds and ends. He gives you a scowl and slams it closed before pulling open the second one. That one yields much more fruitful results, and you feel like your face can’t get any hotter as Ground Zero lifts out a ball gag colored like a grenade and a blindfold in the shape of his mask. He gives you a very direct look before carefully laying the items on your bed, then dives back in. Next he comes out with a thin paddle made of wood with a slab of rubber on it, the rubber looking like a boot imprint. “What the fuck is this? It this…” He squints at the tread, then lifts his own boot and looks at it. “Is this my fucking boot print? How the fuck did you even get this?”

He stares at you for a second and then drops the paddle on the bed. “You filthy fucking bitch. You just want me to walk all over you.” But there’s definitely a vein of arousal in his voice, and when he turns you can see that the crotch of his pants are tighter than they were earlier. He shifts through the rest of the drawer, casually putting a bottle of lube on top of the night stand.

Without a word he gets on his knees and looks under your bed, pulling out another box. You’re so far beyond embarrassed at this point. The delicate lace of arousal in his words, the strain against his pants, you’re going to get fucked stupid by the hero you idolize. You wish desperately that your leg binders didn’t keep your thighs spread, robbing you of any friction you might have been able to produce for yourself. Your breath intakes sharply as Ground Zero returns up from the floor, holding a sizeable black and orange dildo. “Did you fuckin’ make this too?” He’s catching on that all of your sex toys are in his trademark black and orange.

You shake your head. “Commission,” you squeak out.

“Ah, you keep my dildo right under your bed, hah? Has to be in easy reach so you can stuff yourself as soon as you need to feel my cock in you?”

Your breath intakes harshly at the words. “Yes.”

He stares at you with hard eyes for a second. “…Fuck.” He stands, eyes drilling into you as he pulls off his boots. Next go his gauntlets, clattering to the floor. He rips off his top, and despite the fact that you’ve seen his naked chest countless times in either battle damaged costume or professional photo shoots you’re not prepared for the real thing standing in front of you. You make a hiccup-y gasp, and his grin goes feral.

“Be a good girl and don’t move.” He closes the distance between you and easily scoops you into his arms, placing you on the bed with your back facing him. He glances at the hardwood floor where you were originally sitting. “Tch. Haven’t even fucking touched you and you’re already making a fucking mess.” He gestures at the floor where a small pool of liquid betrays how turned on you already are. You feel a slight sliver of shame but it’s heavily outweighed by the sheer force of your arousal.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing? I didn’t say you could have that yet.” He smacks the round globe of your ass with his hand, then releases you. You pant in need, trying to push your hips back again, desperately trying to feel his length against your body again. He makes his ‘tch’ noise and you bite your lip. You can feel him move behind you, then his arm comes in to view and he’s grabbing the boot paddle. Your breath hitches in your throat as the wooden length slowly drags backwards across your messy bed. He’s going this slowly on purpose, you know it. He wants you to anticipate what’s coming.

You freeze as you feel the ridged rubbed slide across your ass. “You ever use this before?” Ground Zero is practically purring behind you.

“N-no.” Your breath leaves you in another shaky hiccup.

“Why the fuck not?” The boot tread continues to rub across your flesh as Ground Zero’s voice gets a little angry.

“No one was good enough b-but you.” The tread stops and you hear a breathy ‘fuck’ behind you before the blonde hero is pulling his arm back and snapping it forward again. The rubber tread of the boot slams into your cheek and you cry out. It didn’t hurt as badly as you expected – maybe it was the thickness of the boot. Either way it was definitely the perfect opening.

“T-that all you got, Ground Zero?” Your breath is coming out harsh but you make damn sure that he can hear the antagonistic tone in your voice.

You hear a growl behind you and the boot flies down again, this time you can feel the bite of the tread marks in your ass. You hope it is going to leave an imprint. “Hah, I t-thought you were strong, Ground Zero.”

You tense as you hear an aggressive snarl and feel a quick movement behind you. There is the sound of glass shattering, and you’re able to glance to your left and see the broken remains of your table lamp on the floor next to the paddle. You’re annoyed until you hear his quirk spark to life behind you, and your heart stops again.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat, hah? Just gotta be fucking mouthy? Well if you like my quirk so much, let’s see how you can handle it.” The sparking sound intensifies, and you’re barely able to hold your breath before Ground Zero’s hand slaps against your cheek. Oh, oh. This is what you want, yes. The sting is enough to bring tears to your eyes and it radiates across your flesh like fire. You can’t hold back your moan, and you lean forward more to present your ass better. He gives you a matching slap on the other side.

“Not so fucking mouthy now, are you?” Twin slaps to both sides again. He keeps going, hands still ignited, more and more until you’re sobbing and he can see the outline of his handprint reddening your ass. “Fucking perfect.” He grins and places one more playful slap, your hips bucking in response.

Ground Zero moves to the front, grabbing your jaw in his hands roughly. “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation and he grabs the ball gag with his free hand. His crimson eyes look into your mouth for a few beats, and you take the chance to admire how handsome his face is. He is still wearing his mask, and there’s soft grey streaks from his battle on his neck and cheek. Then he leans forward a little and you wonder for a second if he is going to kiss you, but before you can close your mouth he spits into it and stuffs the ball gag in. “Good girl,” he purrs, tying the gag around your head. He smirks as he moves behind you again and you’re shivering, waiting to see what he’s going to do next.

The ball gag prevents your loud moan as your ass cheeks are separated and his tongue licks a long strip from your aching pussy to your asshole. He doesn’t speak, he just starts to circle his tongue around the rim of your ass, inching the fingers of his right hand closer while keeping your cheeks spread. You fall forward as he hikes your hips up, just able to turn your head to prevent your face from pressing directly into the mattress. Your eyes are rolling in the back of your head as he fucks his tongue in and out of your hole, growling softly at the whimpers you’re making that are muffled by the gag shoved in your mouth. He stops suddenly, mouth and hands disappearing from your skin, and you let out a high pitched whine at the loss of contact.

Ground Zero laughs and reaches over to the bottle of lube he’d previously placed on your night stand. He positions himself behind you once more, popping open the cap of lube and pulling one of your cheeks to the side. He squirts the lube directly onto your hole, grinning as you shudder at how cold it is. The hand not holding your cheek circles your hole, teasing, not dipping in. It’s not until you push your hips back that he slips his finger into your hole, both of you groaning. He slowly works you open, watches your hole swallow his digit eagerly, his erection straining against the pants of his hero costume. You rock your hips back into him, your eagerness clear on your face as you pant around the ball gag. You choke out another muffled moan as he adds a second finger, hips rocking back harder. You need more, you need him to fill you. He lets a third finger slip it, scissoring all three to stretch the tight ring of muscle.

“Mm, yeah. Gotta stretch you open so you can take my cock, right?” You give a high pitched groan, unable to control yourself as the thought of taking his cock sends you over the edge. You ride through your orgasm on his fingers, eyes squeezed closed, and he stops moving them. “Did you already cum just from the thought of it? Damn, you really are desperate for my cock, aren’t you.” You can hear the ego in his voice and he removes his fingers. This is it. You’re going to get stuffed full of your favorite hero’s dick. You’re gonna get to cum on Ground Zero’s dick.

You feel the blunt head prodding at your entrance, but it feels strangely cold. You open your eyes and Ground Zero’s wearing a cocky grin, pants still zipped up, with the head of your dildo breaching you. You pout, or at least you pout as best as you can with your gag in your mouth, and the hero laughs. His grin is almost feral as he twists his wrist, watching your ass swallow the black and orange toy. Your pout doesn’t last long because the feeling of being stretched has you groaning again, pushing back against it, trying to take it further. He stops once the toy is bottomed out inside you.

You squirm against it, groaning as it rubs against your walls, watching the explosion hero as he slowly walks back around to the other side of your bed. He reaches down and unbuckles the gag, pulling it from your head. He pulls you up, positioning you so that you’re sitting on the dildo but pushes on your shoulders so that your head bows back down. Not quite all the way to the bed, but definitely level with his dick. “Stay,” he murmurs, and then reaches for the buckle of his pants. You hover there, eyes locked on the movements of his hands, your mouth already open and salivating. He moves slow, watching your face with an intense hunger. He pulls the pants off, sliding them down his muscular thighs, and kicking them off. His boxer briefs are straining to hold his erection and there is a damp spot where the head is, betraying how much your reactions are affecting him.

“Please, Ground Zero, I need it, I need you, please just fuck me,” you immediately plead. Your body is squirming and you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue flat and looking up at him. He bites his lip and pulls his underwear down, his cock bobbing just out of reach of your mouth.

“Keep your mouth open.” His voice is a low rumble and he holds his dick by the base, rubbing the head across your tongue and lower lip, smearing his precum on your skin. He doesn’t quite taste like caramel, not like he smells, but he does taste sweet. You moan softly at the taste, fighting all your instincts to not close your mouth and take him in as far as he can go. “Fuck, good girl. Good girl.” He presses his cock in, slowly, until it reaches the back of your throat. “Close your mouth.”

“Fuck yeah,” his motions are fluid and graceful, he fucks like he battles. He’s not giving you time to swallow as he snaps his hips in and out, and your saliva is pooling and running down your chin every time he pulls them back. He finally pulls out one last time, holding himself at the base and looking down at your messy face. Without looking Ground Zero reaches into the drawer and retrieves a line of packets. He rips one off the line and looks at it, then rolls his eyes back. “Okay, I know you didn’t make these.” You give him a shaky smile, still covered in your own drool, as he stares at the condom packet slogan. ‘BAKU BRAND: Reliable enough for your biggest explosions!’

He shrugs and rips open the condom, moving around to the back again. He rubs a hand over the print he left on your ass before lining himself up with your pussy. He lets his hands crackle with his quirk as he slams his hips in, and suddenly between Ground Zero and the dildo he left in, you feel unbelievably full. The hero immediately starts a brutal pace, shoving your face forward into the mattress with every thrust. You cry out with every thrust, and it only takes a handful before your pussy is clamping down around his cock again.

“Nngh, fuck, you’re so tight. That’s right, cum all over my cock.” His voice sounds harsh, like he’s losing control as he keeps pounding into you. His fingertips are digging into your hips again, definitely bruising, as he yanks you back into him. He slams back into you one last time with a hoarse shout, and you know he’s cumming. The thought that Ground Zero was cumming in you was enough to get you off one last time, your walls clamping a little weaker around him than the first two times. He holds there for a moment, holding you up as you sag on the bed. He slips out and you hear the snap of rubber as he removes the condom. His footsteps leave the room.

He’s back a moment later, pulling the toy from your stretched ass and undoing the bindings of the restraints. Your body sinks into your bed in exhaustion and you follow him with your eyes as he moves into your bathroom. You hear your bath water running and blink as Ground Zero steps back into your bedroom, then back out of it into the main area. He’s walking around like he owns the place and if you could move your body at all you’d say something about it.

He comes back again and lifts you into his arms, carrying you the same way he did into your apartment. “Here.” He holds a glass of water to your lips and tilts it. You look at him, confused, as you sip from the glass. “Good. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He carries you into your bathroom, carefully lowering you into the half filled bath. You hiss at the hot water and he immediately adjusts the temperature of the water filling the tub. He leaves the glass on the floor. “Keep drinking that. Don’t fucking drown.” He leaves the room again.

If you weren’t so utterly, deliciously sore you would wonder if you were dreaming. You’re only mildly aware that he comes back at one point to turn the water off before disappearing again like some kind of blonde ghost. The warmth is seeping into your bones and you’re feeling drowsy. You’re not sure how long you spend drifting in and out but you aren’t aware when Ground Zero comes back in.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and you open your eyes, blinking at him with a small smile. “Lean forward so I can wash your hair.” You lean forward as best as you can, assisted by the hero’s hands more than you actually do yourself. You’re able to hold yourself up by bracing your arms on the sides of the tub, and you hear the pop of a bottle as Ground Zero opens your shampoo. Then his hands and carding through your hair and you can’t help the small moan at how good it feels. He’s being so much more gentle than you thought he was capable of, especially after how rough he just was with you. He rinses your hair for you, then carefully washes your with your body soap.

Once he’s convinced you’re clean enough he pulls the drain on the tub, helping you to stand and wrapping you in a towel. You’re not so pathetic anymore and you’re able to walk, albeit shakily, back into your room without his assistance. “Get some pajamas. Don’t put them on yet.” Gentle or not his tone still leaves no room for disobedience, and you pull out a pair of boyshorts (Ground Zero ones, obviously) and a black tank top to leave on your bed. Ground Zero himself comes back out from your bathroom with the glass you didn’t finish and some aspirin. “Take this, and finish the fucking water like I already said to.”

You take the pills and sip on the water, watching him sleepily. He’s rifling through his pants pockets, still in his underwear, and pulls out a small green tube. “Alright, lay on your stomach.” He rolls his eyes at the look you give him. “No, not for sex, this is fucking aloe vera. If I don’t put it on your ass it’ll burn for a week.” He does give you a smirk at that, and you place the water on your nightstand so you can crawl onto your bed and lay on your back. His rough hands soothingly rub the aloe into your abused skin, and you can’t help drifting off to sleep again. There’s no sass left, only satisfaction. This time though, you don’t wake up when he’s done.

When you do wake up it’s almost the afternoon the following day. You’re dressed in the pajamas you picked out and tucked into your bed. You sit up, still feeling sore, and you can’t help but wonder if you imagining the whole of last night. It wouldn’t be the first time you had a dream like that, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Pity you didn’t wake up next to him, though. You ease out of bed and stretch, popping your back a little, before shuffling into the kitchen. On your counter top there’s an envelope. You tilt your head and slowly grab it, pulling it open. Inside is paper yen and a note. You pull the note out and open it.

“There’s food in the fridge. Make sure you fucking eat it. Cash is for the lamp I broke.”

You smile a little and skim further down the page. Your eyes widen at the phone number, but you about drop the paper at what’s scribbled underneath it. “For when you want to be a brat again. Maybe if you’re good, next time will be a creampie.

- GZ”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x female reader #bakugou x male reader #bakugou x nonbi reader #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine #mha imagine #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha imagine #dom bakugou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dom!bakugou #my writing

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

Text

Twenty Good Reasons :: Part One

Hello! Welcome to the ‘Someday, Someday’ sequel! I hope you’ll enjoy your time here! Before you start, make sure you check out the Harry & Nina Chronology page to catch up on a few of the drabbles and novellas that slot in the gap between ‘Someday, Someday’ and ‘Twenty Good Reasons’. As always, please don’t be strangers, posting into the void is a terrifying thing! Love K x

+++

I wrote a symphony.

I had written a symphony and tonight I was conducting the London Symphony Orchestra in what would be my professional debut as a composer and conductor. London’s Royal Albert Hall was sold out, a fact I sincerely wished the Director of Music kept to himself. I tried not to think about the magnitude of the opportunity I had tonight to disappoint, to not live up to what was expected of me.

The conductor’s suite was cold and quiet around me, and with no instrument to tune to keep my hands busy, I was flipping through a five-year-old edition of Hello Magazine. My eyes stared at the clock on the wall, not taking in any of the dated royal gossip or reality star news, it was an odd juxtaposition really—London’s premier music venue housing a copy of the gossip rag from the pits of hell.

Months of tension and trying to sleep through the noise of dozens of melodies simultaneously rolling through my thoughts at once had finally dissipated into an unsettling silence. The notes weren’t fluid anymore, they were set, and a seventy piece orchestra knew the movements backwards and forwards.

It was anti-climatic in the sense that the worry and stress didn’t end, they just became centred in a different place. Instead of biting my nails over crescendos and harmonies, I was in the middle of an even more terrifying process of considering how it all might sound to the thousands of people above me, being ushered to their seats.

I picked at the sequinned hem of my dress and wondered what the heck I was supposed to do tomorrow.

Tomorrow—when I wasn’t writing and rewriting the movements anymore—when what felt like my life’s work was out there, and I couldn’t hide it way anymore. Did I just wake up as usual, walk to the cafe down the street and order a latte? Sit at a window seat, and one by one delete all the notes and voice memos on my phone from the last twelve months of writing? Did I immediately start work on a follow-up? Would anybody want a follow up from me?

I suddenly wished more than anything that I was in the green room with my peers warming up my horn for any typical performance. Knowing I was going to walk out on stage after they did made my stomach hollow out.

My phone started vibrating from its spot on the vanity in the corner, and when I got to it, I stood over it for a little while, looking at Harry’s name flash up on the screen with a call. After three years my instinct was to reach out to Harry whenever I felt like this; like I wasn’t in control of how time was moving, and I wasn’t sure how to reach back into my life and be present. My fingers itched to answer his call, to hear his voice and be comforted by whatever lovely and motivating things he would say.

But I couldn’t. I’d fall apart if I heard Harry's voice tonight because he wasn’t here. He wasn’t here, and that something I was completely unprepared for.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault, not really.

If anything the fact Harry couldn’t be here was because of me. Harry planned his Asian touring dates around when my debut was supposed to take place, a few weeks from now. A month ago I played tonight’s suites in full to the orchestra board and directors, and they decided they wanted to move everything forward, opening the season with my debut instead of having it in the middle of the season.

It was a promotion for my work, and it was a huge show of faith and support from my community. But it meant Harry had shows with tickets already sold and there was no good way of telling fans in four cities they were going to be refunded or offered tickets for alternate dates. Particularly when Harry’s picture was sure to show up in London somewhere, and it would be plainly obvious he cancelled shows to see his girlfriend.

A text flashed up on my phone.

Harry: I love you. You’re going to be fantastic. Remember to breathe. x

It was sweet of him to text, he would know more than anyone how I was feeling. I didn’t have it in me to do the time conversion to where he was at the moment. He was right in the middle of the Asian leg. I tried my best to swallow my sadness down—I knew Harry wasn’t choosing to miss this.

After finding out tonight’s performance was going to be so much earlier than I had expected the time flew by quickly as I went through all the rigours of finalising the score and then rehearsing it with the orchestra. It had been four weeks of early mornings and late nights, fielding questions from players and getting it up to performance standard. Harry was a saint for dealing will all my teary FaceTime calls and the almost daily texts about giving up.

I tried not to overthink how wrong it felt knowing Harry wouldn’t be there afterwards to celebrate with my family and friends. All the late nights I spent with Harry pouring over my compositions trying to find the notes that were out of place and to then not have him sitting in the audience the first time it was played—and my first time conducting a professional orchestra … It felt like I was being robbed of something.

He was the perfect helper over the twelve months the symphony took to write. Some parts happened quickly, and others were hard-won, with dozens of edits and reprises. Harry was the best second set of ears I could have asked for. He learned over the years how music was put together, and when I was pathetic and frustrated in the middle of the night, he spoke my language in calm, loving perfection.

I had my dad to be my critical, technical sounding board, and my boyfriend to be the ever encouraging, soft set of hands I needed when it all felt hopeless. Harry knew when to push me to keep going, and when to pull me from the room and distract my mind with something else.

I missed him.

Harry and I hadn’t spent more than 72 hours together in four months. There were a handful of weekend visits—most notably my twenty-fourth birthday we spent in Copenhagen—and three days quite recently spending Christmas with our families ... But beyond that, Harry and I were doing long distance, the end in sight but too far away to be a real comfort yet.

In some ways, the four months apart seemed to had passed exceptionally quickly, but in others—mainly the ones that seemed to carry the most weight—it was as if time had slowed to twice it’s speed and filling the extra space was all the time I spent missing him.

I spent half my days hating technology—hating talking through a phone with typed or faceless words, and hating early mornings on Skype where a 2D depiction of Harry could only soothe so far—and the rest of the days clutching my phone like a lifeline, praising the 21st century for its ability to connect to people on opposite sides of the planet.

We made it work, which was a line I’d stolen from Harry in interviews over the years. But it was true, nonetheless. Sometimes it felt overly simplistic, but there was a simple truth to it that I liked.

Today though, I had vowed to be happy even in his absence.

“Ten-minute call,” My eyes snapped to the PA system in the corner, and I let out a long stream of breath.

It was time.

+++

I held my baton tightly in front of me, shaking from the adrenalin.

I deliberately avoided looking to where I knew my family and friends were sitting when the house lights were turned on.

The applause was almost deafening and completely overwhelming. I held up my arm to the orchestra, diverting the praise of the audience to the players behind me. They had done spectacularly, and once my heart was done exploding from my chest, and I came down off all my nerves, I would be able to adequately comprehend it all.

The applause started quietening down as the Director of Music, Ian, walked out to join me on stage, a handheld microphone in his hand. He kissed my cheek and gave me a warm hug, calling for another round of applause for me that I awkwardly stood through. I recalled our conversation eighteen months ago, where he encouraged me to do this, to challenge myself.

There was a loud whoop from behind me, and I laughed when the horns section was on their feet cheering me from their positions. They were my closest allies in the orchestra and they’d more than earned their stripes tonight. I gave them a little bow and turned back to the front.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our very own Maestro Nina Lawrence,” Ian said into the microphone, smiling through the distinguished term that I definitely hadn't earned yet, “I am sure this is only the beginning of what we will see from you,” He smiled at me.

There were a few more moments on stage before he led me off, the orchestra following close behind me. I sat on the first seat I found in the wings, tilting my feet back onto my heels and dragging my hands through my hair.

“Ni-na!” My name was called out as the players spilled into the green room, a body pressed up next to me, and someone grabbed my arm, “You’re fucking brilliant!”

I smiled up at one of the trumpet players, “Thank you. I feel like I’m about to combust.”

Somebody shouted for a toast, and I watched, completely surprised, by the arrival of trays of flutes of champagne. By the time all the officials and board members had given their own motivational, encouraging addresses, congratulating me and everyone for all their hard work, nearly all my family had snuck in. Friends too were now making faces at me from across the room where they all stood near the door.

When everyone broke apart, I made a beeline for them, asking one of the venue wait staff to follow me with a tray of drinks. My shoulders hurt by the time I was finished getting hugs from everyone, some tearier than others, my dad the teariest of all. My cousins and my childhood best friends mingling with friends from the orchestra and my life with Harry in a way that overwhelmed me with a sense of belonging to a powerful group of people. Finally, I tucked myself under Rodger’s arm for a touch of respite from the limelight, my back almost touching the wall behind us as he chatted to Laykn and Max.

“None of those sad eyes today, alright?” Rodger turned his head down to the side of my face and spoke under his breath.

“Shhh,” I squeezed his fingers near my shoulder as I took a deep breath and tried to swallow against the tight feeling pressing against my throat, “I’m not sad.”

“Nina,” He chuckled, “You’re inches off looking like you’re attending a funeral.”

“That’s not true!” I argued feebly, chancing a look at him and giving him wide eyes like that might convince him. As Rodger didn’t know me better than almost anybody else.

“It is,” Rodger bit back, smiling at my mother who turned around when my old flatmate failed to whisper quietly enough, she gave us a concerned look but went back to chatting to a friend of our father’s, “And Harry would be so upset if he knew he was ruining this for you,” Rodger’s voice was softer now, “I know this is worse for him. Everyone you love is celebrating with you today, and he’s literally one of the furthest places on earth from you that he could possibly be.”

“It’s not his fault,” I said quietly, looking at my nails and picking at a loose bit of skin I’d been biting all week.

“No, it’s not,” Rodger agreed, resting his head on the crown of my head slowly in warm affection, “But he’s watched you work so hard for this for years, Nina … I know he’d be distraught if he thought you were going to be sad all day because he can’t be here.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “You know it, do you?”

Rodger halted for half a second and then I felt him shrug against me, “He might’ve sent me one of his perfectly punctuated text messages last night instructing me to kick you up the arse if you started looking weepy.”

Something pinched at my heart at Harry’s pro-active concern, “I can’t believe he’d describe me as ‘weepy’,” I huffed, knowing that was precisely the word my boyfriend would use.

“This isn’t about him, this is your night.”

The thing was that my friend was so right about what Harry’s reaction would be to my outwardly missing him today. Harry had lectured me numerous times this week.

When my family and friends followed me back to the conductor’s suite for one more champagne before the celebratory dinner my parents had insisted on organising, I was unable to not still feel disconnected somehow. There was relief though, and an astronomical sense of achievement and satisfaction, and for the first time all day, I felt caught up in the happiness of it all.

The room felt far bigger when I was in here alone before the performance, it was much nicer crammed with my loved ones, all lightly teasing and bullying me. It was loving, and I could read the pride on their faces. I got extra hugs from both my parents and from aunt Anne and my uncle Ted. The cousins and my brother were out in full force—Martin refused to stop filming me and asking mock, documentary-style questions, Josh and Ben didn’t stop trying to make me re-enact walking across the stage. And Oliver was doing impressions of me, waving my baton around and tugging on the lapels of the new suit he got for his tenth birthday.

My dad was holding his phone up taking photos the whole time, managing to wrangle us all together into the groups he wanted. I felt like I’d had an individual photo with everyone a hundred times over.

“It’s the middle of the night in Tokyo,” Laykn draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side, letting me take a sip of his warm champagne. He knew me well enough to know I had checked my phone a few too many times.

I just wanted to hear from Harry.

“I know,” I sighed, “Sorry.”

“Nah,” My younger brother dismissed, “It’s alright. You miss him, that’s okay. Maybe it means you’ll be nice and let me eat your fries at dinner.”

“Ha, fat chance,” I told him. “And I’m not sure this is a fries kind of place.”

Laykn looked at me playfully down his nose, his fingers darting about pocking his tie back through the gaps in his shirt, “It’s a rich people’s place, Nina. They’ll make you whatever you want as long as the booking name is under Harry Styles.”

I punched Laykn in the arm, and he laughed loudly, “You’re a jerk. Mum and dad organised dinner.”

“I think Harry pulled some strings,” Laykn teased, “And don’t kid yourself, I’m your favourite jerk,” He amended quickly.

“Yeah, whatever,” I agreed, “I’m going to go find the bathroom,” I whispered right into his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping out of the room.

I waited until I was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with the lid down before I unlocked my phone again. I checked any of the places communication from Harry might’ve come from, but then when all my email and messaging apps were coming up blank, I had to fight off the disappointment without tearing up.

I knew that it was still essentially nighttime in Japan where he was, but that didn't stop my heart breaking a little at the fact I’d just lived out one of the biggest days in my life while Harry slept. It had been a big day for me, and although I handled days like this a lot better than I might’ve when we were first dating, knowing that Harry was at least awake at the same time was more comforting than I’d care to admit.

After taking a few moments to actually use the facilities, I gave myself one final pep talk in the vast, softly lit mirror before readjusting my dress and mentally preparing myself for what I knew would be a boisterous dinner.

I walked out of the restrooms, flipping my phone over in my hands and concentrating on taking a few deep, filling breaths. The bare concrete walls of the backstage tunnels were marked up with dozens of scrapes and a patchwork of different staging tape. It was chilly too, and I told myself to put my coat on when I got back to everyone, we needed to leave for dinner soon.

“Hey pretty lady," I heard just behind me, my peripheral catching just the slightest movement of someone off the wall.

He smiled when I turned back to face him.

The light glistening in his eyes was the first thing I noticed. But my heart started racing, and my legs were moving before I could really think what was happening, all I knew was that the string connecting my heart to my tear ducts was tugging wildly.

Harry.

He was standing wearing a beautifully tailored pair of high waisted black suit pants, a soft white tee and double-breasted black blazer. I was sure my mouth was hanging open as wide as it felt my heart was busting open in my chest, “Harry!”

"Surprise," He giggled out, bending his neck down slightly when I opened up my arms and reached towards him on my tippy toes, folding my arms up over his shoulders. His arms crossed at the small of my back, and all the air left my lungs when he pulled me against him tightly. “Kept me waiting out here long enough, I didn’t want to make you cry in front of everyone.”

"I hate you," I whined through the shock, but my throat was clogged up with the tears that had already started escaping my eyes. “You’ve been here the whole time? When did you arrive?”

“A few hours beforehand … Tried calling you when we got here though,” He mumbled into my neck, “I was regretting not telling you I was coming because I knew your nerves would be killing you, but you didn’t answer.”

“I knew I’d cry if I spoke to you, I just wanted you here.” “Well, I was here,” He laughed, “And you were fucking phenomenal. I cried like a baby.”

“You’re here!”

Harry's grip on me tightened, and he stood up a little, pulling me with his body, “I am. You look beautiful."

“You haven't seen me in four months," I sniffed, turning my head to press my nose into his neck.

"God, don't I know it," Harry moved his hands up my back and settled them on my shoulders, "Fuck, why do I do this to myself? You're an angel," He pulled back and leaned down to kiss me.

Our lips were hopeless at staying together, even though we hadn’t kissed in months and months. The emotions were catching up with me, and I struggled to settle anywhere between laughing and sniffing back my tears. Harry’s lips turned up into a smile and he pulled my forehead against his, watching through amused, wetted eyes as I tried to keep myself from bawling.

“You’re useless,” He laughed, sniffing away his own emotions when I traced my fingers under his eyes to catch the tears.

“What are you doing here,” I asked, squeezing my eyes shut and moving up again to press my cheek against Harry’s in a desperate attempt to feel closer. “You’re in Japan.”

“I’m not in Japan,” He said softly, “I’m here for you. No one’s as proud of you as I am, Nina, you’ve worked so hard for this.”

“Stop,” I groaned, embarrassed.

“It’s true,” He defended seriously, “You’ve got more talent than anyone I know, and you work harder than everyone else as well. The performance was astounding, you had the whole room captivated. Your work is beautiful and you should be so proud. I’m so proud.”

“Stop,” I interjected.

“It’s true,” Harry swallowed thickly, “You’re always working towards getting better and being better, and you’re constantly creating something completely brilliant that half the time I don’t understand until you stop and baby it down for me … You’re incredible, and I’m so proud of you, my Maestro.”

I felt myself blush, having heard Harry sprout out that affectionate declaration many times before.

“Did everyone know?” I asked, still holding him tight.

“That I was coming?” His chest moved against mine in a few small chuckles after I nodded against him, “Yeah.”

“All of them?” I thought of my whole family and all my friends sitting waiting for me to return from the bathroom.

“Every last, stinking one,” Harry said in what he thought was an endearing Dennis the Menace impression. I pulled back and smiled as I looked up and watched him continue, “There was no way on earth I wasn’t going to be here for this. No fucking way.”

“Seriously,” I shook my head and swallowed back another lot of tears, “You can’t be here right now, you’re in the middle of tour, and you’ve got shows every—“

“Shhh,” Harry took my lips between his again for a few seconds, “Don’t worry about any of that, you think I wouldn’t move mountains to be here? I’m here.”

I smiled and let the tears escape this time, “I love you.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “I love you, too.”

I settled back down into my heels and shook my head, "I can't believe it. This morning I woke up thinking there was still three weeks before I'd see you ... And now ..."

He grinned, "I pulled off the perfect surprise then. C'mon, your brother has been texting me for the last twenty minutes about how hungry he is. Impatient little git, isn't he?"

I rolled my eyes and let Harry arrange our fingers together in a tight hold, ”He's famished apparently.”

Harry’s lips pressed into the hair just above my ear before he stood up straighter and slowly took a step forward. I let him lead me along for a few steps before overwhelming happiness overcame me, and I skipped ahead to tuck myself under his arm snugly.

"I love you, Harry Styles,” I told him quietly, ducking my head when we came to a junction where the greenrooms met the holding room, “Thank you so much for coming.”

There was a small tug on my hand and then Harry stopped walking, looking down at me curiously he tilted his head to one side, “You’re welcome, but I hope you realise coming was less than altruistic of me … I’ve been pretty desperate to see you as well, Neens.”

“‘Cause I’m your favourite person?” I said, grinning when Harry’s thumb dug into my side.

“Damn straight, you are,” He nodded, hooking his hand around my neck and leading my lips up to his.

I shut my eyes and let the kiss be led by Harry. He kept it slow, dragging his lips up to my temple and resting them there for a moment.

“Your family will think I’ve kidnapped you,” Harry said slowly as he wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed once before letting me go again and starting to walk. “And I’m starving as well, let’s go, yeah?”

I latched both my hands over one of Harry’s and manoeuvred us quickly back to where everyone was. There was a room full of happy faces when we finally got there, together, and I shrunk into Harry’s side shyly at the stupid catcalls from them all. Georgie held her phone up recording the moment with the promise of sending me the ‘adorable’ photos later. Laykn muttered something about it being ‘about bloody time', Harry beamed though, kissing me firmly in front of everyone.

+++

It was sweet relief to finally be in the back of a cab pressed neatly beside Harry on the way to dinner. I dropped my head to his shoulder sleepily even though I knew we were only a few blocks from where the Langham was.

Harry quickly greeted the driver and said the name of the street we needed before he turned covered my thigh with his palm and massaged it slowly, “Do you think we should get a pet?”

“A pet?” I asked, completely surprised by what came out of his mouth.

“Yeah.” “That’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“Been thinking about it for a while,” He misheard my tone. “We should get a pet, don’t you think?

“No, I absolutely do not think,” I challenged him, “Pets are so much work, and you go away all the time and what if I want to come to see you? It’d be annoying for us to have a pet.”

Without looking at him I knew the face he was pulling, all wide-eyed and pouted lip, “But imagine having a little furry bundle of love in our lives, Nina. I think you’ve been very flippant in dismissing what could be the best decision we ever make.”

“Harry.”

“I want a puppy, Nina,” He went on, taking a deep breath and racing through his words like that might convince me, “A little fluffy one that needs help learning to howl and hates walking on the kitchen tiles. A cockapoo, like Rodger and Adriana’s dog. Doesn’t that sound adorable?”

“Harry, we can’t—

“—I said,” He interrupted, “Doesn’t that sound adorable, Nina? With little paws and that look of love, only dogs can give? And when we’re both away Gem can take it, or Josh.”

“Har—

“—Or Laykn! We can send little Pauper to university with your brother for a few days.”

“Pauper?” I gave Harry a look.

“Great name, hey? I’ve been brainstorming.”

“What makes you think I’d let you call our puppy ‘Pauper’. What a stupid name for a dog.”

Harry smiled widely, “Our puppy, eh?”

I paused, realising my mistake, “Shut up.”

He laughed at me and raised his arm up to rest it around me and pull me against his side, “I’m going to win this, I can tell.”

“You’re really not.” “Am too.”

We rode in silence then, the radio playing softly upfront and the streets of London slipping past us in their usual way. Harry was humming along, and when I eventually turned to look back at him, his eyes were already watching me.

“What?” I asked quickly, sitting up and moving out of his arms.

“Love you, you were fucking incredible up there tonight,” He said quietly, leaning his head back against the seat and not changing his relaxed expression in the slightest. His slight smile only created half dimples in his cheeks, and I found myself entranced by the curl of his eyelashes.

I felt my cheeks heat up immediately, “You’ve got that look.”

His eyes widened a little as his fingers snuck across my lap to reach for my hands, “What look is that?”

“The one where you’re secretly imagining me naked,” I said bluntly.

“Ha!” Harry didn’t hide his amusement at all, letting out one loud sound and then falling into an adorable bout of silent laughter, he leant forward and placed a hot kiss to the shell of my ear, “Well, it’s not a secret anymore, is it?”

“Harry!” I smacked him in the chest with my free hand which he quickly grabbed at and held in place.

“The best part is that now you’re imaging me naked,” Harry hummed out lightly.

Before any more could be said, the car was stopping, which had Harry kicking open the door and pulling me out with him. I stood for a second and waited for him to take my hand, leading me up the front steps and straight to the reception of the restaurant.

Inside everyone was already seated, and on their first drinks, I walked around the table and greeted everyone individually. We had a round table in a vast, impeccably styled private dining room. Two seats had been left free for Harry and me, he took the spot next to my dad, and I lowered myself into the place next to my mum.

It was the first time all day I actually felt relaxed. I sat back in my chair and let the pain in my feet ease. The boys were all challenging each other to different meals, making up anything that was in a different language and then convincing Oliver anything foreign would just taste like chicken. Isobel, Georgie and Sam were asking Harry about Japan, listing off a particular liquor they wanted him to bring back for the next time we drank together.

Everyone took far too long deciding what to eat and then even longer actually getting through all the food that arrived. Harry told me he slept through the food on the plane over and was much hungrier than even he knew. I let him take from my plate much to Laykn’s dismay.

“Happy?” My mum leaned over and put her arm around my shoulder for a quick hug, whispering and then watching my reaction with a massive smile on her face.

I pulled Harry, and I’s joined hands over onto my lap like he might disappear if he wasn’t as close as I could get him, “Yeah,” I replied, “Perfect.”

“You look happy,” She observed, “And Harry’s got his dopey face on.”

I laughed and looked back over to my boyfriend who was blushing at something Josh and Martin were teasing him about, “Do you know how long he’s got or …”

When I turned back around to face her, there had been a definite fall in her features, “Nina … He just got here, why don’t you—“

“—I know,” I cut her off, “I know. Harry isn’t meant to be here at all, who cares how long he can stay, right?”

She gave me a small smile and a kiss on my cheek just before I was pulled into defending Harry against whatever he was being attacked for now. Everyone looked happy, though, and I was glad to sit and be taken into whatever conversations I could. It was fun, and it felt almost like it was the holidays, and we all had nothing to do but enjoy each other. I found myself thankful for the occasion in an entirely different way to how I had appreciated it earlier in the day.

Eventually, after an embarrassing dessert experience that involved my receiving a ‘debut cake’, everyone started looking at watches and deciding it was time to end the dinner. Anybody who didn’t live in London had been invited by Harry to stay at our house.

“We’re not going with them,” Harry said to me at the last minute, after the bill was paid and we were all standing out farewelling each other in the foyer.

I looked over at my parents who seemed to already know this information, and everyone else was already loading into Ubers and Cabs.

“We aren’t?”

Harry smiled, “Say goodbye,” He nodded towards my family, and I offered them all a small wave without hiding my confusion.

“Where are we—”

Harry leant down and kissed me quickly, “—I got us a room for the night.”

“Here?” I asked astonished.

He nodded.

My eyes nearly fell out of my head, “Harry! That’s mental! This place is fancy.”

“Yeah,” He changed our positions, so his arm was draped across my shoulders and he started leading me over to the hotel reception, “Well … You’re a gorgeous woman in a beautiful dress, and I ironed this shirt so I’d say we’re pretty fancy. And it’s a celebration … Not to mention the fact we’ve hardly seen each other in four months …”

“Harry,” I warned slowly, feeling myself grow jittery when I saw the glint in his eyes.

He moved his hand down my arm and rested it across the back of my ribcage, fanning out his fingers to reach as high as he could, “I’ve missed you,” Harry whispered in my ear lowly, “And you look bloody stunning, Nina. I didn’t feel much like sharing you with your family at home.”

Home.

That was a concept that I was still getting used to, despite it having been almost a year since I moved all my things in with Harry. Probably because I’d spent most of that time highly stressed about composing, and Harry had been away for so much of it. But still, the fact remained, we lived together now and with that simple fact came a new level of pure intimacy that I relished in. I could only imagine how much better it would feel to have a good chunk of time together there come to the end of the tour for Harry.

“What’re you thinking about? Me naked?” Harry’s voice came right into my ear again.

We were standing at the desk, waiting behind another couple, and Harry moved around to stand tightly behind me, his arm affectionately across my neck.

I looked at him from the side of my eyes, “Just how nice it’ll be to actually live together for an extended period.”

“Hmm,” Harry agreed readily before stepping forward and introducing himself, he turned back to me while we waited for the check-in paperwork, “It will be pleasant.”

“Seriously, how much are you spending on—” I asked, reaching up onto my tippy toes when a piece of paper was placed in front of Harry.

“Oh-oh,” He tutted, plucking it up and shifting, so his back was to me, he smiled at the receptionist, signing his name quickly, “This is perfect, thank you.” She disappeared again, and he turned back to me, I tried not to think about how much whatever extravagant room we were about to stay in would be costing him. Not to mention the cost of him flying out here from Japan in the first place.

I caught a familiar movement over his shoulder and quickly diverted my eyes, “Does it matter if you’re seen here with me?”

Harry frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Someone just took a photo.”

Harry looked back over his shoulder to where I was looking, “Oh,” He turned back to me, “No, it’s okay.”

A keycard was handed over, and Harry profusely thanked the receptionist who pointed us in the direction of the elevators. We walked passed the group where I had seen the photo being taken, Harry gave them a polite little wave with a coolness I know I lacked.

When the doors opened, and we stepped inside, I watched Harry in the mirror as he pressed the for the flood we wanted, “It feels odd not having bags, doesn’t it?”

“Feels sexy,” Harry grinned.

“It feels conspicuous,” I returned.

Harry chuckled, leaning over to kiss my forehead, “I brought some things from home over earlier.”

“Oh.”

“You’re just so cute when you’re worried about silly things, Neens,” He explained.

I was about to rebut when we came to the door for our room. Harry opened it with no hesitation—his years of staying in hotels showing— and he propped open the door for me to walk in ahead of him. I ducked under his arm and hung my evening bag on the back of the door, continuing to where the whole room opened up to an expanse of windows.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the drawing desk by the window. Sitting up in a long, white vase was a dozen white and red roses.

“Harry … What are these?”

“Happy debut,” He said behind me as he pressed his chest to my back and wound his arms around my front, when I looked down he was holding a medium-sized, navy box out in front of me, “This is for you as well.”

I slowly took the box out of his hands and straight away he held them firmly across my stomach. His chin rested on my neck, and he observed as I ran my finger over the engraving on the front.

“Harry Winston,” I read the engraved name, “What on earth—

“Open it,” Harry instructed softly, turning his head to one side to press a kiss to the base of my neck.

The box opened with a satisfying pop sound and it folded out like a flower. Resting in the velvet insert was a beautiful, round pendant necklace.

“Harry, you’re not supposed to get me something.”

“Take out,” He urged, poking the back of my hand with his index finger.

“I don’t want to break it.”

Harry chuckled lightly, “You won’t. Take it out, and we’ll put it on you.”

It turned out that it was quite hard to extract from the box, and in the end, Harry in his own fit of giggles had to pull out the whole lining of the box and work from the underside to get it out. But he managed to get the necklace out and just before he put it on he made me go into the bathroom with him, so I’d be able to see in the mirror.

“Lovely,” He declared once the clasp was secured and the small pendant was resting on my skin. Harry ran his hands down my arms and back up again while I inspected how I looked wearing it.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” I decided very quickly, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry returned, looking very pleased with himself behind me.

The movement of his hands halted for a moment as he bent down a little to kiss the back of my neck gently. It was a soft kiss that sent something delicious all the way down my spine and the back of my legs. He hummed against my skin, and his fingers trailed up to the zip at the top of my dress, carefully dragging it down to pull the two sides apart carefully.

“We’re going to have to hang this up if I’m going to be doing the walk of shame in it tomorrow,” I told him, referring to my dress.

“My girlfriend doesn’t do walks of shame,” Harry corrected with a growl, his hands slow and deliberate in their movements, “I’ve got something for you to wear tomorrow and pyjamas.”

“You have?” I turned around in his arms and was honestly surprised by him being that prepared.

“I do,” He said in a funny, high pitched voice, “What did you think I meant when I said I brought some things over earlier? It’s moments like these it comes out that you don’t think very much of my gentlemanly ways.”

I moved my arms up to rest over his shoulders and pulled myself up onto my tippy toes, “I’m happy to be proved wrong.”

Harry’s eyes went to my lips then, and I knew there wasn’t going to be much more talking. He pulled me against him and started out the kisses slow and sweet, getting me ready for when the four months of not seeing each other took over, and our hands started moving of their own accord.

It didn’t take long before Harry had me lying on my back on the bed, my dress over the back of the nearest chair and Harry’s nice clothes draped over the top of them. From there it was all hushed words of missing each other, and incomprehensible noises that only made the moment hotter and more dizzying.

After three years so much about sex with Harry was better than I ever could’ve imagined. Because he knew me on so many different levels, the physical connection between us was only heightened. And it grew in me some enormous sense of pride to know I was the only one who got Harry curling his toes together and panting against my skin.

He was all mine, and I got every inch of him to myself.

It was well past one in the morning by the time we were lying side by side, and I was finally reflecting on the day as a whole. My stomach was filled with a warm, settled feeling just having Harry next to me in bed again. Sleeping alone had been something I hated getting used to still. Having another, albeit longer, body beside me I was sure was the best end result I never would’ve dared to dream might happen today.

“What time are you setting it for?”

Harry stopped moving his fingers across his phone screen and turned his head my way, “What?”

I made a point of looking where the clock app was open in front of him, “What time are you setting your alarm for?”

“Neens,” He said sadly, not giving me an answer but only giving me a look that said whatever his response would be I wouldn’t like it.

“Harry, what time?” I asked again, moving my head over to rest against his shoulder for a better look at the screen, “Three a.m.?” I readout.

“Nina—

“—Three in the morning! Harry, what the hell kind of insane time is that? You can’t—

I was cut off by Harry rolling onto his side and forcing me into silence with a kiss, “Don’t get upset, Nina. It’s okay.”

I frowned and watched him as he hovered over me, “You’re leaving in the middle of the night?”

“I can’t stay any longer, I’m sorry. I’ve got an interview I can’t miss before tomorrow night’s show.”

My eyes widened in shock, “You’ve got a show tomorrow … Tonight?” I corrected myself.

“The time difference is a bit funky, but basically, yes.”

It dawned on me then that Harry had only had a day and a half off, that he had jumped on a plane after a matinee and had to be back for a show the following evening. That instead of going out to dinner with the crew and then sleeping until midday like I’m sure he needed, he had flown thirteen hours to London to have not even ten hours on the ground before flying back again.

He wouldn’t even see daylight in the UK.

“Why did you come?” I asked in a small voice, feeling tears welling with the guilt that was settling in. He was going to be exhausted for days from crossing all the time zones.

He let out a horrified laugh, “Why did I come?” He repeated, sounding every bit as defensive as I expected him to be, “I came because today was a huge day for you, and because I could, and because I wanted to.”

“You’re going to get sick from being tired and all the travel.”

“I don’t care,” He shook his head and hooked a leg between mine, “I don’t care.”

I pulled his neck down and held him there until he settled most of his weight on top of me in a tight cuddle, “I don’t want you to go so soon,” I sniffed.

Harry’s hands ran up my sides from my hips, settling under my arms and warming the skin below my breasts, “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, you idiot, ” I laughed through new tears, “You’re here. You came. You’re too good to me.”

“I love you, Nina Lawrence.”

“I know,” I sighed, containing my emotions slowly.

“I’ll always come when I can.”

“I know.”

Well, there’s our intro to Harry & Nina, 3 years later. What did you think? Predictions?

#1dff #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles stories #hina #fic: twenty good reasons

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sarah-writes-stories · 4 years

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I'm notorious for asking this, but it's one of my favorite things to learn about people -- do you outline? What does your story-mapping process look like generally? Do you use OneNote or Word or a different method for tracking ideas/plot points?

Ooooohhhhh. LOVE THIS QUESTION. Okay, are you ready for a novella? Because that’s what my answer is gonna be. HA!

100% yes, I do outline. My process begins with a huge brain dump. Getting the “story” part of the story out of my head: major plot points, tiny side plot bunnies, all of it. Next step is to take chunks of those notes and divide them into rough chapters. And oftentimes what I originally outline as one chapter at this point will, in reality, become two or three chapters in length, but that’s okay because it’s more about chunking the story out and figuring out what’s needed where and when at this point.Doing this also allows me to see how things want to flow together: where I can put easter eggs, or drop hints, or why certain things need to be one way vs another so that the story can deliver those beloved a-ha revelation moments for the reader later on.Next, I’ll take those segmented chapter outline “chunks” and start fleshing them out further. What sorts of interactions do I want to have happen between characters in this chapter? What do I want the outcome of the chapter to be? Will there be a cliffhanger? How do I want to get them there? Lots more spitballing and brain-dumping comes in at this phase.After that usually comes research. If I know there is something that I need to learn more about in order to ensure that my ideas will actually work, then I’ll pull together some reference documents to help with consistency.Finally comes the fun part, WRITING!

So what I’ll do is take my entire chapter outline and space it out so that there’s just a sentence or two followed by lots of white space in the document, followed by another sentence or two and then more white space. It’s into these white spaces that I write, visually ensuring that I connect the dots between plot points throughout the chapter. But after that? My actual writing style is very stream-of-consciousness, actually. I think I saw a meme once about a writer who said they just listened in to what their characters were saying or doing and wrote it down. That’s often what my actual writing time feels like.

Sometimes what comes out causes me to change things that I’d originally had planned. Other times it gives me a-ha moments of my own that I wasn’t really expecting. Other times I’ll find myself so inspired by things they say or do that it warrants me queuing up additional chapters to write, or honing in on subplot points that I now want to bring in later down the line. Yes, this inevitably requires me to rework my original outline on an almost weekly basis, but again, all of that’s okay. I actually think it helps me keep my characters “in character” when I just allow them to do what they want without judgement at that point of first-drafting. What wants to be written will be written!Now, when it comes to these first drafts, if I’m writing in the flow the whole chapter can literally come pouring out of me in mere hours! In fact, when I first started To Fight For Tomorrow I was literally banging out a chapter A DAY, which is insane to me now, but I was in such a flow state that it came so easily and required little cleaning up!Nowadays though, it’s more like it takes me a week (if not more) to get through the first draft (Mostly because I’m into a section of the story that needs more of a guiding hand, I think). Sometimes I’ll get bored or distracted and will switch to editing the chapter for a while and then go back and draft some more. Anything to keep it moving foward.

Once I finally get that first draft done, the second draft is a lot more fun! I like filling in the gaps, adding more waff or fluff or angst just because I can. Making sure I get those easter eggs, or hints at this or that in there.

And then it’s time for my final draft (aka proof-read) I usually do this myself as well since I worked for 5 years as a proofreader and copy editor and that stuff comes pretty naturally to me. (No beta though. I’m intrigued by the idea but not sure if I have the patience for it!)

And that’s it! I usually need to take a break for a few days after I finish a chapter before I begin the next one just to keep from burning out. Oh, and I'll reread my chapter during this time to take notes. I keep a running document of important points from each chapter. Things I don’t want to forget so that I keep the story consistent throughout, like this:

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

And as for what tool I use to manage this all?I LIVE AND BREATHE FOR SCRIVENER!

The “binder” outliner function is just a MUST for me. I don’t think I could write a story like To Fight For Tomorrow without it. Plus you can do things like set target word counts and other goals, or compile various documents into one, or look at two documents side by side, or look at all your chapters as cards on a pinboard. IT IS GREAT!

See what I told you? NOVELLA.

I hope this answers your question @fantastiqueparfait! It was fun to write all that up!!THE END.

#see how I snuck a sneak peak at the next chapter in there?#Yeah I did that.#sarah-writes-stories #to fight for tomorrow #fantastiqueparfait #fanfiction writing #ao3 writer #writblr

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gffa · 5 years

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hi! i really want to get into the EU stuff, but i have absolutely no idea where to start. can you point towards a few good books, maybe? thank you, and i absolutely love your account btw!

Hi! Thank you for the kind words, I’m glad you’re enjoying the blog. ♥ Recommendations for EU stuff often depends on what you’re interested in, because there are a lot of books I really enjoyed, so I’ll organize them by era, since that’s how fans are often divided. I’ll also include comics, because often times the comics are some of the absolute best stuff!If you haven’t watched The Clone Wars and Rebels yet, those are absolutely the places to start as they’re key to the fabric of the bigger story, imo. Not that you can’t understand the movies without them or anything, but TCW is especially important for understanding just how grueling the clone wars really were. And Rebels is important for showing the fates of a lot of the TCW characters and seeing the Empire vs the Rebellion (it does a lot to flesh that out, too).PREQUELS:

Any of the Star Wars Adventures comics that contain the prequels characters are great. Well, ALL of the Adventures comics are great, but the prequels ones are adorable, funny, and yet really well-told. They’re light-hearted and largely oneshots, but the IDW comics have been incredible for still being some of the absolute best SW content out there. Especially a not-miss is #12-13 and the 2019 Annual for the Padme&Leia&Breha story.

Obi-Wan & Anakin comic by Charles Soule. A five-issue mini series that has the most stunning art of all the comics I’ve ever seen pretty much, it’s also a really good look at the time of Anakin’s apprenticeship and provides some interesting glimpses into their early days together.

Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith comic by Charles Soule. This comic was an absolute phenomenon to read month to month and one of the comic series that I’ve spent the most time analyzing and felt it’s really held up to scrutiny, which shows just how much thought went into it. It’s 25 issues of Vader fresh off Revenge of the Sith, over the span of a couple years, and really does an AMAZING job of exploring Anakin Skywalker as Darth Vader, all the choices he made and the themes of the comic are all about showing he can’t admit to the HUGE mistakes he’s made. It was incredible.

Choose Your Destiny: An Obi-Wan & Anakin Adventure by book Cavan Scott. I’m not usually a fan of Choose Your Own Adventure style stories, but this one was worth it to me to get an absolutely DELIGHTFUL book with Obi-Wan and Anakin, who are cranky with each other, but ultimately show that they can come back together and obviously care about each other. Sprinkle in some other cool stuff (Jedi details, Bant Eerin being recanonized) and it was lovely.

Dooku: Jedi Lost audiodrama by Cavan Scott. If you’re interested in Dooku, Asajj Ventress, or the Jedi at all, this drama was pretty amazing, it gave a ton of worldbuilding detail, but also did a lot to fill in the backstory of Dooku and gave us a long look inside Asajj’s head as well. Qui-Gon makes some appearances, he has an amazing dynamic with Dooku, and my heart as always skips a beat for how much I love the Jedi.

Age of the Republic comics by Jodie Houser. Holy shit, these comics were SO GOOD. They’re a series of oneshots about the various heroes and villains of the time, a glimpse into the lives of all of them, and Houser really nailed it here. My favorite is the Obi-Wan one, because the conversation he has with Anakin about Qui-Gon is a must and delves deepest into the characters’ stuff, but all of them are worth reading.

Jedi of the Republic - Mace Windu comic by Matt Owens. A five-issue mini series that, okay, the art is Like That but the storyline really worked for me because it’s a really good look at Mace’s character and his belief in the Jedi Order and how he came to master himself and how the galaxy looks at Jedi. It’s woven around a fairly typical action plot, but one of the things that always strikes me is the compassion the Jedi show one of their own, even when they’re falling into darkness, as well as this is a comic about Mace Windu’s faith and his work to master himself and it’s SO GOOD.

Kanan: The Last Padawan comics by Greg Weisman. Stunning art plus a look at some of the characters/relationships that I want so much more of (TELL ME EVERYTHING ABOUT DEPA BILLABA) and more glimpses into life at the Jedi Temple, as well as telling the story of how the character went from Caleb Dume to Kanan Jarrus, all of it heartbreaking and so, so good.

While the Revenge of the Sith novelization by Matthew Stover is no longer canon, but it does an absolutely phenomenal job of breaking your heart all over again for the characters and expanding on everything that was going on during that time and really, really gets into the headspace of Anakin’s character in a way that was line-edited by George Lucas himself, so I think of it as having a lot of emotional truths to it, rather than being part of canon (which it’s specifically said as not being).

ORIGINALS:

The ongoing Star Wars comic (by Jason Aaron, then Kieron Gillen) + the original Darth Vader comic (by Kieron Gillen) are the absolute best place to start, they’re an incredible addition to the characters’ journeys between ANH and ESB. The two comics are meant to be read concurrently, so I recommend them together, they often show the same scenes from different points of view, but you can roll with either of them if they’re going well for you. They’re my favorite for what they add to the story.

Star Wars Battlefront II’s storyline can be watched on YouTube like a movie, which is about two hours long, has some fantastic characters (Iden Versio and Del Meeko are amazing, but also the brief storylines the OT trio have in the game are fantastic) and it does a really great job of helping to bridge the gap between the OT and the ST, explaining a lot about Jakku’s significance and how the First Order popped up.

From a Certain Point of View novel by various. MY FAVORITE BOOK IN THE EU, FULL STOP. A series of point of view stories from various supporting characters during A New Hope is exactly what it sounds like and, okay, not all of them worked out for me, some of them are very skippable if you’re not enjoying it, but the Obi-Wan one, the Qui-Gon one, and the Yoda one are all must-reads because they are HEARTBREAKING and fill in so much of what’s going on with those characters in the OT with regards to the PT events. Also the Motti one is the single funniest thing Star Wars has ever put out.

Lords of the Sith novel by Paul S. Kemp. While I’ve only read about a third of this one so far, I’ve enjoyed it a lot, as it’s a look at some of the worst parts of SW’s timeline, where Vader and Palpatine are at their worst, where Ryloth is suffering, but it’s done with deftness and gravitas, imo. Possibly better after you’ve seen TCW and Rebels because Cham Syndulla’s character will have more weight then.

Legends of Luke Skywalker novel by Ken Liu. This book came out around the time that The Last Jedi came out (or at least that’s when I read it, iirc) and it was a balm for my soul that needed Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. It’s an in-universe series of myths, so it’s not literal, it’s stories told about Luke Skywalker as he travels the galaxy trying to understand the Force and the Jedi. It’s lovely!

Thrawn novel by Timothy Zahn. I still think the first Thrawn book was really good (even if the shine came off the apple after that) and it does a fantastic job of setting up the character’s backstory, intro into the Empire, and creating the character of Eli Vanto, WHOM I LOVE. It’s a great read and some of the best of Zahn’s Thrawn work.

ROGUE ONE + SOLO:

The Rogue One novelization by Alexander Freed. I had trouble connecting to Jyn Erso when I first watched the movie, but the way Freed wrote her as this messy, complicated, thorny person who was trying to do the right thing was perfect for making me fall in love with her. (Freed is really, really good at writing messy, complicated, worthwhile women, imo.)

Most Wanted novel by Rae Carson. I loved this book a lot, where it’s a young adult novel set before the events of Solo and helps tell Han and Qi’ra’s backstory and is a great space adventure at the same time.

Catalyst novel by James Luceno. This does a really great job of bridging the Republic era with the Empire era, how the galaxy went from the Clone Wars to what we see in Rogue One, AND expanded a ton on Galen Erso’s character, his relationship with Orson Krennic and Lyra Erso and Jyn, so it made the R1 experience just a ton more valuable for me.

SEQUELS:

Bloodline novel by Claudia Gray. This book still does the absolute most to bridge the gap between the OT and the ST, to explain the events of what happened in that time period. Gray’s writing is best when she’s writing Leia as a character and this book works as a novel for her and as a story about the rise of the First Order and some of the problems of the New Republic.

Spark of the Resistance is a young adult novel (so about 200 pages) by Justina Ireland. I only recently read this one and I just thoroughly enjoyed it, it was Rey and Rose and Poe off on their own adventure, which was typical cute Star Wars stuff, but the chemistry and adorable banter between these three was so good I could have read an entire series for them! (I also liked her Lando’s Luck YA novel, if you’re interested in his character.)

Poe Dameron comics by Charles Soule. Soule’s writing is some of the best stuff in SW so far and he does an absolutely phenomenal job of capturing the charisma of Poe’s character, while also giving him an actual character arc to work through. The comics just fly by, they’re so good and so smoothly easy to read and so damn charming.

Cobalt Squadron novel by Elizabeth Wein. If you get the audiobook of this, it’s narrated by Kelly Marie Tran, who does a love job of reading it, and was a book that helped me just utterly FALL IN LOVE with Rose Tico. It’s a book that does a lot to explain her back story and who she is and it’s just absolutely wonderful.

The Last Jedi novelization by Jason Fry. If you really, really hated TLJ, this might not be the book for you, but I found it to be a book that helped fill in some smaller details that made the movie work better for me and got inside the characters’ heads just enough to help grease the wheels to put me in a better place with the movie, so I always really like it.

#fic recs #(not really but that's my tag)#novels #Anonymous

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