#if you have a good fic that you read/ wrote
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Can't Get Enough
So the anniversary of my first fic is on the 23rd and to celebrate here's a Rulti fic. Rain/Swiss was the first pairing I ever wrote for and it's interesting to see how far I've come in just a year.
Special thanks to @jesusbutbetterrr for the idea ! Also @hypnoneghoul @revengeghoulette come get your food!
Read here or on Ao3
Word Count: 4142
Tags: GILLS, intox, water ghouls are wet, this is the like the only time I've written sub Rain and I am in awe
Summary: Rain and Swiss disappear to the greenhouse to partake in their stormy night ritual.
The sky had been overcast all day. Dark clouds sat heavy, a slight chill in the air. The scent of rain was so thick even the Siblings could smell it. Despite the dreary conditions, the clouds did not break until past sunset. It began softly, a gentle patter against the windows; before long though, it turned into a downpour. Rain and Swiss had snuck off to the greenhouse when the first drop fell.
Now they are laid out on the beat up old mattress Mountain keeps around for winter naps. Fairy lights provide a soft orange glow to the otherwise dark building. The occasional flash of lightning acts as the only other light source.
This is their ritual. When the air finally turns warm and frost turns to dew, Rain and Swiss will end up at the greenhouse whenever there is a storm. It gives Swiss space to relax. Storms always give him a strong surge of energy, one that usually leaves him with a migraine. The curse of housing multiple elements in one vessel. It gives Rain a place to be immersed in his element while also avoiding the chill that causes an ache in every joint. Coming to the greenhouse together lets them still have company when they need away from the whole pack.
The first time had been an accident. It was a big storm, one that cut the power from the Ministry and left a multitude of fallen tree limbs. Swiss had needed to get outside before lightning exploded out of his body. He had no idea what was happening, his elements had never surged like this in the Pits before. Rain was letting the storm fuel him, ignoring the ache in favor of letting out massive bursts of water magick. It was the most fun he had had so far in his short time Topside. They ran into each other when the storm got so severe even they knew they needed to get back inside. They both ducked into the greenhouse instead of going to the den for the same reason. They weren’t ready for it to end. They hadn’t known each other very well back then, so they sat on the dirt floor and talked until pain zapped through Swiss’ skull and he nearly collapsed. When the storm passed and Swiss’ pain went away, Rain asked if they could do that again; sit and talk while they watched their element.
Sometimes it's soft and sweet, like that first night. Sometimes they break into Mountain’s secret stash and smoke until time melts away into honey. Sometimes they fuck until one of them bleeds. Most of the time, it’s a combination. Tonight is no exception.
They have one of Mountain’s tins sitting in between them on the mattress. Their legs and tails intertwine as they pass the joint back and forth, giggling about nothing and everything. Swiss takes it back from Rain, inhaling deeply and holding for a few moments before blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. He laughs and runs his hand over his face.
“Fuck this shit is good. It’s cruel and unusual that he hides this from us.” Swiss takes another hit before passing it back to Rain.
Rain coughs when he exhales, batting the smoke away from his face, “Why don’t you get him to show you how he does it? You’ve got some earth in you.” Rain takes a drink from the bottle of blackberry wine by his feet, also stolen from Mountain’s stash.
“Oh believe me rainstorm, I’ve tried. Bastard likes to keep his secrets.” He snatches the bottle from Rain’s hands the moment it’s away from his lips which are now stained a delicious deep red.
Any protests Rain has die on his tongue when he looks at Swiss. He can’t seem to be annoyed that he’s basically chugging the damn thing, too transfixed watching his throat bob with each gulp. He wants to reach out and touch, feel it move. He wants to lick over his neck and feel Swiss swallow on his tongue. Wants to feel the prickle of his stubble, the sting of fangs. Wants to drown in his sweet and spicy taste, utterly consumed by Swiss. He can’t help it, the weed always gets to him. Rain swears Mountain laces the stuff with aphrodisiacs. It doesn’t help that he can still feel the thrum of energy in his veins through the haze of smoke. He begins to lean closer when a flash of lightning startles him, making him jump back.
“See something you like, rainstorm?” Swiss laughs and looks towards Rain. His eyes glow when a rumble of thunder shakes the greenhouse.
They stare at each other for a moment. It's quiet save for the storm and their breathing. Swiss grins and leans in close to him. He stops just a few inches away from Rain’s face. Rain has to cross his eyes to keep staring at him. He can feel his breath. He smells sweet and herbaceous when he opens his mouth, his usual spice covered by the wine. Rain closes his eyes, waiting for the crash of his lips.
“Your eyes are red,” Swiss giggles before closing the last remaining inches. Only he doesn’t kiss him, he boops his nose to Rain’s and makes a honk noise. He throws his head back with a laugh almost as loud as the thunder outside. Rain huffs and tries to push him away. Swiss doesn’t budge, he’s still laughing as he wraps his hands around Rain’s wrists. He doesn’t try to remove them or push back, he just holds them.
“Don’t be pouty princess, you know I won’t leave you hanging.”
“Liar,” Rain snaps his fangs “I can count all the times you’ve stuck your tongue down my throat and then left.”
Swiss laughs at the same time lighting cracks through the sky. It illuminates him, for a millisecond more of his ghoulish features are visible.
“What can I say? Sometimes the chase is better than the reward.” Swiss suddenly yanks on Rain’s wrists, causing him to fall forward and practically face plant onto Swiss’ chest, “But not here. You always look so cute with that pretty little blush of yours.”
Rain hadn’t even realized. He doesn’t feel the heat in his cheeks until Swiss points it out. He can feel it get deeper, spreading down his throat when his brain finally catches up. He feels like he’s burning when Swiss cups his face with both hands to force him to look up.
“Wanna know why I love coming out here with you and no one else?”
Rain nods. He can’t find his words. Not when his limbs feel heavy and his mind is fuzzy. Not when Swiss’ eyes burn so bright he swears he can see every elemental color in them. He can’t tell if his mouth is dry from the weed or Swiss’ proximity. He doesn’t even realize his mouth is slightly agape until he feels Swiss rub his thumb over his bottom lip.
“Because I love seeing you like this. Big bad rainstorm too stupid he can’t even ask for what he wants.”
Rain swallows, throat clicking as his honey filled mind processes Swiss’ words. He can feel the drool in the corner of his mouth. He knows he needs to say or do something but mind and body refuse to cooperate. He can’t look away from Swiss, he doesn’t want to. He’s only brought back into himself when he feels Swiss’ thumb brush the dribble of drool away. He wants to turn his head, get his fingers into his mouth to suck on them. All he can do is let out a wheezing breath, something more akin to a whine than a sigh.
Swiss waits. He waits for Rain to do anything. He truly does love it when Rain gets like this. Needy in a way he’d never let himself be completely sober. Always has to be in charge even when he’s on the bottom. He enjoys it when Rain is cruel, but this is special. Little bit of wine, little bit of weed gets him so sensitive. Swiss sometimes wonders if he’s faking all the little whimpers he chokes on. It’s captivating, addicting, watching how everything he knows about Rain gets flipped.
Rain swallows again. Swiss can feel his throat bob from the hold he has on his cheeks.
“Gonna say something, princess?”
“Please…”
“Please what?” Swiss tilts his head, grinning wide.
Rain’s lips move without the words. He knows what he wants. He wants everything Swiss has to offer. He wants to be distracted from the hum of elemental energy by more than just drugs. But his head is so hazy he can barely get the words out.
“Lips. Mouth. Kiss…please?”
Swiss huffs a laugh before pulling him in. It’s soft at first, a simple press of lips. Rain still clings to him like he’s being devoured, hands twisting in Swiss’ tank top. He wants to draw it out, really make Rain shake, but the weed and the weather make his resolve slip. The kiss turns hungry fast, a cycle of pulling back an inch just to press back in. Lips meeting lips over and over again with a satisfying wet click.
Swiss kisses Rain hard one last time before licking across the seam of his mouth. Rain doesn’t hesitate to let him in, groaning when the tip of Swiss’ tongues swirls around his. Rain feels the bead of Swiss’ piercing slip between the fork in his tongue and he nearly doubles over. He tries to lick into Swiss’ mouth with the same hunger, but it feels like his tongue is made of lead. All he can do is tilt his head, open his mouth a little wider, and let him taste.
Swiss pulls back just enough to bite Rain’s bottom lip before plunging back in, licking over his fangs. Rain’s cock kicks and he suddenly becomes very aware of how hard he is. He uncurls a hand from Swiss’ tank top in favor of palming himself through the sweats he stole from Cirrus. He gasps into Swiss’ mouth the moment his hand touches his cock. So sensitive even through layers of clothing.
Swiss knows he shouldn’t, knows Rain will just pout and whine and paw at him until he gives back in. He can’t help himself though. He loves seeing the flash of fear in his eyes, truly believing he won’t give him what he needs with his mind muddled with weed. Swiss grabs Rain’s wrist, holding him still the same moment he pulls away from the kiss.
“Ah ah ah,” he tuts, “not yet, rainstorm.”
There it is. The wide, almost panicked look in his eyes. He feels the hand still clutching his tank top tighten, claws scraping against his skin. The sting causes a zap of electricity to shoot down his spine. He gets dizzy with arousal for just a moment. He growls, nearly abandoning his little plan in favor of pouncing on Rain. Maybe Mountain really does lace this stuff?
It’s a high-pitched whine that brings him back. His eyes refocus, looking down at Rain. His lips are shiny and swollen, parted slightly as he breathes through his mouth in quick short huffs. There’s a pinch between his eyebrows that Swiss can help but reach up and smooth out.
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give it to you. There’s just something you have to do first.”
“Please,” Rain begs, “anything. Please just need you.”
Swiss smiles and fishes the half-smoked joint out of the tin. He wiggles it in front of Rain’s face.
“You gotta finish it Rainy. Can’t let Mountain know we were here.”
He knows Mountain will know. They both do. It’s rare they make it back to the den after a night of going through Mountain’s stash. He’ll find them in the morning when he shows up for his chores. Even if they somehow stumbled back inside, the smell alone is enough to prove their guilt. Swiss doesn’t care. He wants a lap full of stupid, pliant little water ghoul.
Rain looks between Swiss and the half-finished joint. He blinks slowly, processing Swiss’ request before looking up at him with big eyes.
“S too much,” he shakes his head, “can’t do it. Too much.” He almost looks like he’s going to cry.
Lucky for him Swiss isn’t totally heartless. Not tonight at least. He coos and presses a kiss to his forehead.
“It is, isn’t it? Barely had half of one and you’re already brainless.”
To be fair, he knows he’s not faring much better. He’s not as reactive as Rain, but Mountain’s stuff never fails to make him feel like he’s living in a space between solid and gaseous. Like he’d float away with a too strong breeze.
Rain nods at his words, a whine escaping his throat. Like one of a dog left in its cage when its owner leaves the house, a sad and broken little noise. Swiss pets through his hair.
“Don’t worry rainstorm, I’ll help you. But I’m not touching you until we finish it, got it?”
Rain nods again. Swiss grins and sticks it into Rain’s mouth. His eyes widen momentarily before brings his hand up to hold it. Swiss snaps his fingers and a small flame flickers on his thumb. He holds it close until the end catches, snuffing it with a wave of his hand. Rain takes a deep breath, chest visibly expanding. He blows the smoke directly into Swiss’ face. He can’t tell if it was on purpose or if he’s just that out of it he didn’t even think to turn away. He doesn’t care either way. Rain slumps against him and Swiss moves him so that his ear is pressed against his chest. He keeps one hand around his waist and the other on his thigh. Dangerously close to the bulge in Rain’s sweats.
Swiss plucks the joint from his lips, taking a quick hit before shoving it back in place. He watches Rain. Watches the way his chest inflates, the way his hand shakes a little. He can’t see his face from this angle, his hair falling in a way that makes it impossible. What he can see, though, consumes all his attention. His gills. They flutter with every breath he takes, exposing the soft membrane for a millisecond. Every flash of deep cobalt blue makes Swiss’ mouth water. He can just barely make out the little razors that line the inside. He’s totally enraptured watching them ripple minutely.
The next inhale from Rain is big. Swiss can faintly hear him when he sucks in the smoke. He holds for a moment before letting it out. Swiss’ jaw drops when he watches the smoke pour from his gills. They flare and he’s able to see completely inside of them for however long it takes for Rain to exhale. He swears he can see his throat moving. It makes him dizzy. He leans closer on the next hit, squinting to see if he actually can look into his throat. He can feel the smoke get blown into his face. He’s not touching him, but Rain must be able to sense how close he is because he whines.
“Thought you said you were gonna help me?”
Swiss blinks slowly, drawing his attention away from Rain’s gills to formulate a response, “I am. Go ahead rainstorm, I'm right here.”
When Rain exhales on this one Swiss leans down close. Close enough that Rain can feel it when he sucks in a breath. He shudders when he feels the warmth on his gills when Swiss exhales the smoke.
“Swiss,” Rain warns.
Even with his mind totally submerged in honey, Rain knows if Swiss gets his mouth on his gills it’ll be over for him. They’re already sensitive enough when he’s not high. He’s afraid he’ll cum in his pants with the first pass of a tongue. He has cum in pants when he’s with Swiss like this and that was without a clever mouth hovering over his gills. He swallows thickly when he feels Swiss laugh.
“C'mon finish it Rainy.”
Rain doesn’t know what else to do but listen. He knows what’s coming. He knows what Swiss is going to do. He inhales and waits, holding out until his lungs ache. He barely has a chance to breathe before he feels Swiss lips wrap around his gills, sucking. He gasps and shudders, hips twitching involuntarily in search of friction. Swiss lifts his head for just a moment, lips brushing over the membrane when he speaks.
“You’re so close raincloud, finish the damn thing and I’ll give you everything.”
He dips back down when he feels Rain shift. He sucks in the smoke from his gills once more and the noise Rain lets out makes his cock jump. He doesn’t let go this time, breathing the smoke out of his nose. He licks across the slit just to hear him make that pretty little sound again.
Rain drops what’s left of the joint with a gasp. His whole body shakes when he feels Swiss’ tongue enter his gills. He couldn’t care less about whatever Swiss told him to do earlier, all he knows is the feeling of the warm, wet appendage. He can feel Swiss’ hand press closer to his cock, but the assault on his gills steals all his attention.
Swiss is practically making out with them. He sucks on them before dipping his tongue inside as far as it’ll comfortably go. The other hand, the one on Rain’s waits, slips under his shirt. His fingertips brush gently over the gills on his abdomen making Rain moan loud and wanton. He slips the tips of his fingers inside with practiced ease, muscle memory helping him avoid the tiny razors. He pets at the inside membrane and Rain sobs.
“Please touch me, Swiss. Need it, it hurts. Please.” He’s shaking. He sounds pathetic. He doesn’t care. Not as long as Swiss wraps one of his massive hands around his dripping cock.
Swiss laughs, speaking into his gills. The vibration drives Rain crazy, “I am touching you, princess.”
Rain weakly tries to pull the hand that’s under his shirt away. Tries to pull it down to cup the tent in his sweats. It doesn’t even budge. Rain can feel the grin spread across his lips.
“I told you, didn't I? I wasn’t going to touch you unless you finished the whole thing. Did you?”
Rain looks at the joint on the ground. It’s almost laughable how close he was to the end. He hiccups, sob catching in his throat.
“No.”
Swiss hums and shoves his tongue and fingers back into Rain’s gills at the same time. He chokes out a broken little moan.
“But what oh what about me?”
“Well,”
Lick
“You’ll either cum from this,”
Lick
“Or you won’t.”
Swiss shoves his fingers in just a bit deeper and Rain keens. He can’t take it. He’s so hard it hurts. He can feel the wet patch that soaked through the front of his sweats. He’ll have to wash them before giving them back to Cirrus. With shaky hands, he pulls the waistband of his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his cock out. He shudders when hot skin meets cool air. He’s slick and shiny, wet from the copious amounts of pre he had started leaking since Swiss kissed him. He gives in to Swiss. He slumps his entire body weight onto him, closing his eyes with a sigh at the same time he wraps his hand around his dick.
He gets lost in it. The feeling of Swiss practically eating out his gills. At the feeling of him fingering the gills on his abdomen. He jerks himself in quick little strokes, trying to go at the same pace as Swiss’ tongue and failing. He’s vaguely aware of the feeling of Swiss rutting against his back, but it’s hard to focus on anything with his brain effectively turned to mush. If he turns his attention to Swiss at his gills then his movements turn sloppy, barely providing any sense of relief. If he focuses on stroking himself then he’s not as aware of the assault on his gills. In a brief moment of clarity, he vows to never touch Mountain’s shit again. A promise he’s made a million times. One he’ll continue to break.
He lets out a broken gasp when he feels Swiss’ unoccupied hand wrap around his cock. He gives him no time to process, no time to question. He strokes him fast, fist twisting over his head with each pass. He couldn’t take it anymore. The sweet little sounds spilling from Rain’s lips became too much. He needed to watch him cum, needed him to make a mess so Swiss could lick it up and taste him. Rain is utterly helpless to it. Swiss has every part of him. All he can do is whine and whimper and attempt to buck up to meet Swiss on the down stroke. He can feel his slick dripping down his cock and into his sweats, can feel it soaking his balls and his thighs.
Swiss presses his thumb into the sensitive skin on the underside of his head at the same time he plunges his tongue into his gills as far as it’ll go. Rain can feel him in his throat. It’s too much, it’s all too much. He cums with a shout, high-pitched and feminine. Swiss slows his movements but doesn’t stop stroking him. Milking him for everything he has. He doesn’t stop until Rain’s crying turns from relief to pain. Swiss pulls his tongue and fingers from his gills, pressing sweet little kisses to his jaw. He mutters praise in between each press of his lips. He holds Rain tight against him, not entirely sure he’ll be able to keep himself upright if he lets go. He rocks them gently. The only sound that fills the greenhouse is Rain’s pants and the storm outside. Eventually, he catches his breath enough to speak. He says the only thing that comes to mind.
“You touched me.”
Swiss laughs as loud as thunder, “Had to make sure you caught up.”
Rain furrows his brow before slowly turning in Swiss’ hold to face him. His body shakes as he moves, groping the front of Swiss’ lounge shorts. His falls open, a brief moment of shock before he giggles. Swiss grunts when he squeezes, smearing the mess in his pants over his spent dick.
“Don’t give me that look. Not when you just soaked half of Mounty’s mattress.”
Rain slumps his head forward to rest on Swiss’ shoulder, “You like it.”
“Damn right.” He kisses Rain’s temple before bringing his hand up and popping each of his fingers into his mouth one by one. He sucks Rain’s spend off, groaning when the taste of petrichor and sea salt hits his tongue.
Rain is asleep by the time Swiss licks the mess off his hand. He huffs a quiet laugh before lying down, keeping Rain on top of his chest. He rubs up and down his back, until he starts purring. Swiss is quick to follow him after that, closing his eyes and giving in to the pleasant haze in his head.
It’s a bright and sunny morning. The exact opposite of what yesterday was. Everything has a shine to it, still wet from the storm that raged all night long. Rain is awake, but he hasn’t opened his eyes. He’s warm from the sunlight streaming into the greenhouse. The rise and fall of Swiss’ breathing comforting. His head still feels a bit fuzzy, but nothing like the previous evening. He’s content to lay there all day, but his ear twitches at the sound of a snuffle. He cracks an eye open only to see Mountain standing above them, arms crossed and a neutral expression. He snuffles again, nostrils flaring.
Rain elbows Swiss in the ribs. He jumps with a groan.
“Too early. Go bed.” Swiss rolls over causing Rain to scramble off him.
“Swiss wake up!” He hisses.
“Whaaaaaaat?” He sits up, blinking slowly.
When he finally opens his eyes all he sees is Mountain. He practically jumps up, rolling off the mattress to kneel on the dirt floor. He puts his hands up in surrender.
“Hey Mount. Funny seeing you here we were just—“
“You have five seconds to run.”
Rain and Swiss exchange a quick look before bolting up and running. Rain stumbles, nearly tripping but he catches himself and keeps going. Mountain watches them through the glass. Rain sprints to the lake, Swiss back towards the Ministry.
Mountain cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders as he walks towards the door, humming a tune only he knows.
#the band ghost#ghost bc#nameless ghouls#the band ghost fic#rain ghoul#swiss ghoul#swiss x rain#rulti#18+ mdni#mdni#golfball writes
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Just read the lil fic you wrote for velnna’s Staeve and Astarion on the chaise. It’s so good! Is that something you’re thinking of expanding?
Oh hi!
Hehe, first of all thank you, haven't even posted that here yet 👀
Well... This whole Regency AU thing has started as a collective brainworm in @velnna 's community (mwa mwa @silmaryel @somewhatclear and @astarions-pervert-goth-wife with whom I played a continues game of "yes and?" about that...). And uh, I don't think this is a joke anymore...
@somewhatclear has been so kind to create an AO3 collection where people can send in contributions for Regency shenanigans. And I know there have been others who've written stuff or have been thinking about writing pieces for this I hope they might share (no pressure tho!)
As for me personally. Well, I've posted somewhat of a prologue here already. And as long as @velnna let's me keep playing with Staeve (thank you as always) I think I'm gonna keep going for a bit... I have a bit more written and a few more ideas for scenes. But I make no promises, don't wanna jinx myself, haha.
All I can say is I've been enjoying this rabbithole a whole lot. It makes me feel all the emotions - in the good way. And people have been lovely about it as well (mwa <3)!
Oh and also there's a little playlist on Spotify!
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤
Good question! I only have thirteen published fics, but it's still hard to narrow it down. Here's my best shot (all of these are Good Omens fics):
Down to the River: My Bruce Springsteen AU. This one was a bit darker than some of the others I've written, but it was the story that really made me feel like a writer. Tony and Azi are teenage best friends and lovers, separated by circumstances beyond their control. When they find each other again in their 40s, they have to decide whether they have the courage to try again.
Of Fire and Falcons: Crowley is a fire spinner and Aziraphale is a falconer. They've got a FWB situation going on, but everyone around them can tell they both want so much more.
Folding the Laundry: (Ineffable Wives) Azira and Toni are two single moms who have been best friends forever. One night, while they are hanging out in front of the TV, some revelations come to light. This is probably my most personal story, and it goes out to all the middle-aged moms in this fandom.
Even Bound as We Are: I wrote this human Aziraphale/winged fae Crowley fic for the High Pollen Count sex pollen event. It was my first attempt at doing fantasy, and I greatly enjoyed building the world and mythology for these two characters.
Coming into Focus (series): In 1864, photographer Aziraphale meets Union Col. Crowley during the siege of Petersburg, and sparks immediately start flying between them. Can they survive a war and find peace together? I had so much fun with the historical details in this world.
Happy reading and writing, everybody!
#good omens#good omens fanfiction#good omens fic#aziracrow#good omens fic recs#aziraphale#crowley#writers of after dark#good omens smut#ineffable wives#self rec#5 favorite fics
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I have a lot of thoughts on the trailer for DA4, and the reaction surrounding it, but my thoughts are disjointed, so bear with me.
Firstly, I can see why people were criticizing the art direction. It did look more stylized in the trailer, and certain moments (like the googly-eyed-looking large darkspawn during Davrin's intro) did make me raise an eyebrow. That said, if a more stylized direction keeps them away from the uncanny valley/facial glitches from Andromeda, or the now very soulless stares of modern RPGS like Starfield (because they didn't use mocap like Larian), then I'm all right with it. I appreciate all art, including stylized--and as long as it's well-done, feels alive, and is appropriate for the setting--sure.
Characters aside, the backgrounds and environments look stunning so far. The city streets behind Lucanis's intro looks gorgeous; they recently released a clip of Minrathous that looks amazing; the screenshots they released of other environment looks dark, foreboding, and atmospheric. I am not concerned with the direction of the environment/world-building at all, and am excited to see more of it, especially since they've said we'll visit countries in Thedas that we've never seen before. (Fingers crossed that the open world is done well and isn't just a barren landscape.)
Next, the tone. Yes, I see what people mean when they say that it was huge departure from the tone of the series. BUT, I think the trailer was meant to be a fun intro of the companions--not establish the tone of the game. It was told by Varric, who we know loves to embellish his tales, and I think Bioware was banking on that fact and on our love of Varric to carry through. Unfortunately, Bioware is on very thin ice with gamers, thanks to disappointments like Andomeda and Anthem, so it was a definite miss to release the trailer when they did. All we've heard about for years now is how the game has been scrapped and changed; they laid off a bunch of veteran folks; then they just announced a name change. We don't know what the hell is going on. The smart thing to do would have been to release a trailer (like the gameplay teaser they've recently released: https://www.tumblr.com/felassan/752915533833306112?source=share) that shows the direction of the game, so people know what to expect, then release the campy Varric-narrated companion trailer. (Also to those who say the trailer feels really disney/marvel/fortnite (of which I've seen lots of comments about)... it's Varric. He's probably retelling the story. It sounds like Varric to me, anyway.)
Varric being used so heavily in marketing when they unceremoniously laid off his creator/writer last year is something else I've seen people be upset about. And fair. It does suck. That's an EA/top of Bioware (which goes back to EA) issue, though? Why are we faulting the Bioware devs who are still trying to make a good game despite their bosses' poor business practices? Ngl, I was suprised by the amount of hate in the trailer's youtube comments--like sure the trailer wasn't fantastic, but to claim that all the good devs left and all the bad ones remained? That seems inappropriate to me. Sure, Bioware's lost so many people over the years that it's not even the original Bioware anymore, but there are still old-timers there. The creative director for DA4 is someone named Jon Epler, who's been there since before DA:O. Trick Weekes is still there--you know, the person who wrote Solas. Sheryl Chee, the original writer of Leliana, is there too. But also, why is the old automatically better than the new? They've hired so many new people, and I'm sure that breathes life into the IP. Pretty sure some of the devs over at Larian were inspired by Bioware (distinctly remember reading how one of the lead Larian writers grew up on Garrus/Shepard fics) so heck, maybe Bioware's just as talented or maybe even more talented now than before. (I have no clue; I have no insight into Bioware.) Change isn't inherently bad.
One thing that hasn't changed? BioWare's commitment to representation, as shown by the companions. They were one of the first studios to have queer characters, characters of color, etc. and they are still doing it! Even with EA's boot on their necks! That alone makes me want to support that group of devs, because if they flop, what will that do? BioWare gets shut down? Then what? Do we win anything? No--but we'll lose a dev group who's still committed to equality and showing diversity. It might even show corporate heads that maybe they should just focus on catering to the white males gamers after all.
I think BioWare is in the unenviable place of dealing with decades of expectation (which they can never meet, because people have had so long to headcanon and build up their own unique expectations) and being heavily scrutinized due to recent flops (which is fair, their two most recent releases have been mediocre at best). It feels like gamers want to hate on them, though, and are just waiting for any excuse to. They are scrutinized in a way that goes above and beyond the norm. I then noticed a decent amount of comments on Youtube about "wokeness" and "DEI" and realized some of the complaints about art direction might actually be bigots complaining about all the diversity they see on screen. Through those comments I discovered the most recent game director is a trans woman, and previously mainly worked on the Sims. (These claims were lobbied like damning revelations.) Learning that, and seeing all the representation on screen (Bellara is asian, Davrin is black, Neve has an artificial limb and is a POC, Emmrich is old, Taash is qunari, Harding is a dwarf, and Lucanis might be the only conventionally-attractive possibly-white man?) made me want to circle my wagon around them and defend them. Because, yeah, sure, EA is evil and has predatory business practices. If they release the game piece-meal, have season passes, etc. you can be sure I'll be voicing my displeasure, but Bioware? I can bet the people who work there are just creatives who are trying to make a good game. (Again, I don't have insight into the studio, so if anyone does and reveals it's actually a toxic work environment then oops.)
Now, if you don't enjoy open-world or the fast-paced action combat that they're advertising, fair enough. I personally prefer turn-based rpgs or one involving more tactics like Origins, too. But whatever, I can deal, if the game is fun and well made. I've had 2 games and close to 15 years to accept they'll never make another dragon age like Origins again. And I did just say that change isn't inherently bad.
I guess to conclude... maybe check if you're being overly critical of a game without having even seen real gameplay footage yet. Maybe the game will suck, and that will suck for all of us. But I'm rooting for the devs to pull one out of their hat.
#da4#dragon age dreadwolf#dragon age the veilguard#da:tv?#da:tvg?#i think I'll stick with da4#my opinion#sorry for the wall of text#but I had THOUGHTS#long post#as an asian lesbian gamer who loves narrative driven rpgs with romanceable followers; it's slim pickings#so forgive me for supporting a group of devs who shows me the representation I crave#in a genre I love#I wish EA didn't own BioWare and I wish the gaming industry had better business practices#the ceo of Larian called out the industry's tendency to layoff talent to save money#but in the process lose all that institutional knowledge#one can only hope more independent studios like Larian will crop up#you can bet I'll support anyone who makes rpgs with choices and representation
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤
Tagging @gingiekittycat who sent this to me as well! In no particular order:
Esurient Designs. Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Rated E, 22k. Started as a single line in a different fic then became a few paragraphs and then was encouraged into the most decadent, dirty degustation I could come up with. If you squint, it’s a deep dive character thing about Crowley. If you don’t squint, it’s just a laundry list of kinky needy touch-starved fantasies.
Anchorage. Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Rated T, 4.6k. This might still be my favorite out of everything I’ve written in this fandom and it’s *gasp* not porn. It is Crowley being very vulnerable though, and all the pleasure that comes when Aziraphale welcomes that vulnerability. Kissing and feelings, that’s it, folks.
Coming Home – A Choose Your Own Adventure Fic. Aziraphale/Crowley (mostly) (Good Omens), Rated E, 117k. I only wrote a smidgeon of this but I’m still insanely proud of it because I did most of the wrangling and aspirational thinking. The idea that 30+ authors could come together to write something as long, hot, varied, and cohesive as this just blows my mind and I really lost myself in the organisational aspects of it for the two-ish months it took! There are also some smoking how chapters buried in there that I revisit often!
Kinetic Sense. Ten/Rose (Doctor Who), Rated E, 10k. I like to think I’ve developed as a written, then I revisit this extremely drawn out, overly wordy oral-sex romp that I wrote almost twenty years ago. I stand by it. Extremely explicit sex submerged in fluffy relationship stuff and also me obviously having a very specific type.
Parallelism. Kurt/Blaine (Glee), Rated E, 10k. I haven’t read this one in almost a decade, I reckon, but it was exceptionally challenging to write and I remember my beta basically convinced me to trash the entire first draft and try again. And I remember thinking it ended up being the best thing I’d ever written at the time. It’s just first-time fingering fic, which I’ve done recently in Good Omens, I now realize. But it was, for whatever reason, a challenge and a reward.
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tin soldier and a disastrous doll
#anyhow its been too long since i last drew them i have been in the soup .#its MY birthday and I get to choose the coping mechanisms#doodles#duck scribbles#enstars#midoyuzu#yuzumido#midori takamine#yuzuru fushimi#i should go sleep my back is begging for the sweet release of death rn#ignore how i forgot yuzurus hat. didnt notice until it was too late orz#ensemble stars#ALSO WHICH ONES OF YOU NOMINATED ME FOR THAT RAREPAIR ENSTBLR YEARBOOK CATEGORY 😭 help that was a jumpscare im honored#girl how did i get here. thanks a bunch regardless of if you nominated or voted for me :']]]#edit: GOOD BELOVED MUTUAL BRIGID PAPERCONSUMPTION WROTE A FIC BASED OFF OF THIS GO READ IT ‼‼‼‼#link in the rbs i will never recover i think
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when thinking about scar and mei's dynamic, I love thinking about why he becomes so attached to her. it's not just a parental instinct, it's specifically identifying with her struggles. the chang clan is small and has little political power compared to the more dominant clans in xing, and it's a struggle just to survive. even though it's not exactly the same, there's this feeling of solidarity between scar and mei because they're both disenfranchised within their respective countries. the sympathy mei describes when she found xiao-mei is what scar feels towards mei, seeing something of themselves in the other and taking pity on them
and there's this other element to him helping her find xiao-mei, and I might be misremembering, but I'm fairly certain it's the first deviation from his revenge based quest. so far, every time we've seen him, he's either been attacking state alchemists, going somewhere to find a state alchemist, or recovering from his injuries. he is very driven when it comes to his goals, but he sees this little girl crying because she is all alone in a foreign country on a desperate quest to save her people and she's just lost the only family she has with her, and he decides to help her. he didn't have to do that, he could have just ignored her or insisted on moving on, but he is not heartless or cruel, he is a compassionate person underneath all the pain, so he goes out of his way to help this little girl find her panda
no wonder mei is constantly reiterating to other people that scar is a good person
#fma#fmab#scar fma#mei chang#I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THEM ALL DAY#if scar was written by a worse author or was written as a shallow character#then he would just be heartless and cruel#but it is so important that he's not#his anger and violence comes from a powerful love for his people and a deep feeling of injustice#and I think that sensitivity to injustice and a heart that is fundamentally good deep down#is why he cares for mei the way he does#I'm realizing I'm just repeating what I wrote about in that one food fic I wrote#BUT IT STILL STANDS#hi strangers reading this. if you want this concept explored in fic form I wrote about it in the fic The Taste Of Home
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making of a feathered thing
#sk8 the infinity#kyan reki#hasegawa langa#renga#tagging ship like a power word kill here#hi. linked there is a fic I wrote in uhhh. three hours? something like that#literally have no idea how to explain it to you at all. feel free to read if u wanna. mostly its like damn I keep puttings pictures into thi#s literary piece.#gonna cool down soon. oh boy is it hot here. probably why I wrote that#that took place in like november but the vibe is. summer. or something like that I really need to sleep#new ink arrived! its kinda watery! line still feathering! not into this!#I'll try to see if thats more my paper. dont enjoy that#but yeah Ive just been testing the ink and stuff out with these#doing these like. less than an hour each. no brain just go#man I wanna fly a kite... theres an open plot of land right next to me. I should try doing that#go out and hang out with so many bugs and fly a kite#gods. I need to sleep. idk not much to say here I simply think reki is a growing boy and he'll become great and awesome#thats all folks! have a good night. well good day. its 5am#sleep well! run so fast
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Omg hi Ms. Yellow Caballero big fan of your work <3 For real though, I'm really excited that your sharing the Weekenders, it was a joy to read and I'm bongocat-ing now that others also get the privilege to read it as well.
Referencing your tags, would you please elaborate of ableism in fandom and, like you said, how fandom treats characters with unpalatable disabilities?
Hi Ms. Bud Lite I'm a big fan of you <3
TL;DR A fear of writing characters of highly marginalized identities shields you from criticism and discomfort, but it's actively stigmatizing to people of these identities and as a writer you really need to get over yourself and write The Icky People.
I guess I'll come out swinging on this one and say that fandom doesn't like severe mental illness. (As a note, when I say severe mental illness (SMI) I mean illnesses such as psychotic disorders, bipolar disorder, substance use disorders, personality disorders, etc)
Obviously, nobody likes people w/SMI. It's just insanely egregious in fandom to me, since fanfic writers absolutely love writing characters or HC characters with depression, anxiety, or a specific variety of PTSD That Isn't Scary. People actively reject any character HCs for a SMI. When people write a character with SMI, they nicely downplay it, ignore it, substitute it for a disorder they like better, or rewrite it. It's completely untolerated, in both headcanons and in fanfiction, and every time I bring it up I always get the most interesting reasons why somebody couldn't possibly acknowledge a character's SMI in their writing. I've heard all of these:
"I don't know enough about the disorder to write it accurately." Do research.
"I'm not X, so I can't really depict it." You probably aren't a cis white man, but you depict those guys just fine.
"It feels insulting to the character." There is no shame in having a SMI.
"I can't understand what it's like, so it's better to be cautious and avoid giving characters stigmatized identities." There are LOTS of experiences that you'll never understand because you've never had them - you just don't want to write anything you're uncomfortable with. People with SMI make you uncomfortable, and you don't want to write anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, or think of a comfort character in an uncomfortable way. SMIs are marginalized differently than solely depression/anxiety/The Nice PTSD, and by refusing to write them you're actively contributing to the stigma.
I think (?) I've spoken in the past about how I believe that the rigorous external and internal policing of writing people of marginalized identities is actively harmful towards efforts to increase diversity of experience and background in fiction. A lot of fanfiction writers are just terrified to write people who they can't directly relate with, because they're worried 'they'll get it wrong' and be Big Cancelled. I think this is negative enough when it prevents people from going outside of their comfort zone, but on a macro level I think this results in people refusing to write characters of marginalized identities as all. It's an insidious thought process, and it's reflected in people's unwillingness to diversity their writing or acknowledge canon diversity.
'Well, I don't understand what it's like to be Black, so I don't want to write Black people'. 'I want to project on this character, so I only want to write them with mental illnesses and identities I have'. 'If I write a marginalized character incorrectly people will yell at me, so I won't write a marginalized character who's marginalized differently than me at all'. Can you imagine writing a lesbian character with a boyfriend because 'you feel uncomfortable writing lesbian experiences'? It's blatantly homophobic. But people do that with disability and race/ethnicity ALL THE TIME.
People with SMI notice that you feel uncomfortable with them. It's obvious. They notice when a character has a SMI + anxiety, and you only write their anxiety. They notice when a character displays symptoms of a SMI in canon, but you write it out. And POC notice when the characters of color are written out. I know we all like to project on the blorbos and relate to them, and in the joys of your own head do whatever, but as a writer if you only stick to identities you're comfortable with you are actively being a worse writer. Which to me is the REAL sin lmfao.
#my asks#thanks for enabling me lizzy if i didn't get this out i would have just vagued for the rest of time#even just beyond all of this on a more subtle lvl. HC people with SMI cowards. just do it. its good for you.#the two times me/a close friend have proposed on a fandom server "hey I read X as having a SUD/being on the schizophrenic spectrum'#there was actual fascinating pushback and rejection#people got MAD.#'blorbo wouldn't be an alcoholic he's not a bad person :(' fuck off#i dont use the word often but its ableism and you can be mentally ill and still ableist#if you dont feel educated enough on something to write it then do research#and while research wont give you everything it's a start#if you feel like you can only write people just like you then frankly? skill issue#i mentioned that the last fic was a bit of a spite fic - well#it was scientifically fascinating how the majority of a fandom wrote/acknowledged a character as depressed and anxious#but actively got incredibly defensive when someone suggested that the psychotic character may have had a psychotic disorder#it was so blatant. very annoying. anyway.
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If you're a fic writer and you put a link to a rebloggable tumblr post in the ao3 notes of your fic, I love you I love you I love you. YES I WANT TO REBLOG YOUR FIC and yes if I feel that strongly about it I will track down your tumblr and dig through your archives just to reblog your own fic post from you so that you can see the positive tags and comments OR as a last resort I may make my own rec post but if I don't have to do any of those because there's a handy little link on your ao3 then I love you I love you I love you to the moon and back
#ao3#fanfic#fandom etc#friends this has been brought to you by my very own utter failure to find a fic post on an author's tumblr#despite looking carefully through their mostly untagged blog for the past 40 minutes#I've found answered asks about that fic#various ramblings and such#but no post that says 'hey! here's a fic I wrote!' which I want very much to reblog so I can be like 'hey! here's a fic I read!'#because it is very good and I like it a lot#I'm so sure there's a post but I simply cannot find it#but Abby (I imagine you saying)#why don't you just ask the author where it is?#to which I gently respond:#my buddy my bestie my pal.#what about the fact that I just spent most of an hour rummaging through someone's tumblr archive#tells you that I have the social energy to ask favors from a stranger right now?#and so I must sit here and pout
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I wish you can update for like twice a week 🛐. I'm always checking for new update hahaha.. anyways, take ur timeee 🫡🫡🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
Anon, I know you probably meant well, but this is not the time for something like this.
(Gif courtesy of @collinnmckinley )
#these chapters take a lot of work#they're long#they're detailed#writing takes a lot of work#i write every word out#i come up with the ideas myself#and on occasion i get ideas from others#but a lot of them are on my own#if i sat and wrote an entire chapter in one sitting#it would take an entire day#i am human#there is a human behind this blog#i have a life#i have my own things that i'm dealing with#i do this for free#i post for free#i write for free#it takes me several days to get through a chapter because it takes a lot of work#it takes a lot of brainpower that i dont always have#be fucking for real right now#i wish i could write two chapters a week too#but they wouldnt be good chapters if i did#they'd be half as long and poorly written#and i probably wouldnt even finish the fic because i'd burn out so fast#anon#i know you didn't mean this in a pushy or negative way#but read the room please#answered
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I saw ur post about wanting writing prompts so I thought why not lol. (This is my first time doing this 😅) but I have a few of AUs on my art blog that I would love to see expanded on like my Tall Pete/Short Vegas au, A band au with Vegas being a lead singer and Pete falling in love at first sight, or Pete being Vegas’ personal bodyguard instead of Tankhun’s. So yea if u find any of these interesting I’d love to see ur spin on it
OMG hi! Thank you so much for sending me this, I'm so flattered you thought of asking me to write sth surrounding your AUs ❤️ It kind of feels like the secret Santa event all over again, I love it haha.
The timing is actually a little too perfect, because a few weeks ago, I randomly stumbled upon a YouTube short about the side couple in Laws of Attraction and I proceeded to 1. lose my shit, so much so that I decided to start watching the show and 2. write a whole page full of notes about an AU in which Pete is Vegas' bodyguard, based on the pool scene of said short.
So, to give a little context:
In this alternative universe, Vegas and Gun visit the main family compound for a meeting. At some point, Korn wants to talk to Gun alone, so Vegas goes to the pool area to find Porsche, along with Pete who follows him. Vegas proceeds to flirt with Porsche, as Vegas does, up until Gun suddenly appears and starts yelling at him for unclear reasons. He escalates it when Vegas asks, baffled, why he's being yelled at, by slapping him and putting his head into the pool. Pete normally doesn't intervene when Gun gets violent with Vegas, but his protective instincts here kick in and he stops Gun from literally attempting to kill his own son. As a result, Gun's anger gets redirected at Pete, who gets beaten up in Vegas' stead.
The snippet I wrote for you is the aftermath of everything I described above. I hope you like it ❤️
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Silence, occasionally broken by a faint sound that resembled sniffing. Pete couldn’t tell what it was, but in his state he couldn’t really tell where he was either, so he stopped worrying about it. He tried, instead, to remember what had happened that brought him here, wherever “here” was.
The last thing he recalled was the feeling of Khun Gun’s shoes digging into his forearms, which he used in his attempt to protect his head from his boss’ repeated, brutal kicks. Khun Gun wasn’t the strongest man Pete had ever met, but there were reasons he always tried to stay on his good side, and his cruelty was one of them.
The cruelty that had so many times been directed at his own son. The kind he was eerily familiar with.
Khun Vegas’ face materialized in Pete’s mind. Droplets of water running down his nose, his sharp cheekbones, reaching his neck. His hair wet and disheveled, his chest heaving from the difficulty to breathe after having had his head shoved into the pool. His expression crumbling with worry, something Pete had no logical way of explaining.
Fuck, where was he? Pete could only hope Porsche had protected him from his father’s fury afterwards. Khun Gun was unpredictable; he couldn't be trusted to only be satisfied by lashing out at Pete.
Pete needed to go find him as soon as possible.
Opening his eyes proved to be a challenge. A heavy fog was clouding his vision, and the pain that was engulfing his whole body was preventing him from doing the simplest of movements.
He groaned as he shifted his torso in a futile attempt to get up, resulting in a gasp that startled him into opening his eyes to check where it came from.
His mouth was hanging open as he took in the image of Khun Vegas staring at him, fidgeting nervously in the chair he was sitting on. His eyes were red around the corners and he looked ghostly pale. Pete’s breath hitched.
“Pete… ?” he said, dropping his gaze to the floor. He always did that when he was feeling guilty about something. “Are you... ?”
“I’m fine, Khun Vegas,” Pete replied, despite the numbness in his limbs and the headache that was starting to form. “What about you? Are you hurt? Should I take you to the doct-”
“We’re at the infirmary, you idiot,” Vegas shouted, interrupting him, but his voice lacked the usual heat. “Stop acting like my bodyguard right now, it pisses me off.”
That’s all I know how to be, Pete wanted to tell him, but remained silent. That’s all I’m allowed.
He didn’t really mind Khun Vegas’ words. He’d heard worse things over the years, things that should have probably hurt him. Somehow, Pete had the ability to forgive him anything.
The atmosphere grew tense between them. Pete had grown used to that, too, but he had never seen Khun Vegas be so self conscious before. He wondered why the sudden change.
“I’m not thanking you,” Pete heard him murmur after a few seconds; he uttered the words under his breath, while staring at his feet. If Pete had a better view of his face, he’d argue Khun Vegas was pouting.
Pete could only reassure him. “You don’t have to, Khun Vegas. I was simply doing my job.”
It had the opposite effect. The creases between his eyebrows deepened as he lifted his head and stared at Pete. Astonished as his mouth was open agape, likely for a retort that never came.
Alternatively, he turned his attention to the small table next to Pete’s bed. He stood up and approached it hastily, grabbing something that was resting on top of it, before Pete could take a closer look.
“The nurse said you have to take this,” he said and extended his arm at Pete, revealing a small pill.
It was probably a standard type of painkiller. Bodyguards never got any special medical treatment, especially those working for the minor family. It wasn’t worth the trouble.
Pete tried to lift his hand to take it, but he bitterly realized it was impossible. He winced as he took a look at both of his arms and found them bandaged, smears of purple popping at places his skin was uncovered.
He cursed under his breath. “Ah, I’m sorry, Khun Vegas, I’ll just call the-”
Cold fingertips pressed on Pete’s chin. They felt even colder on his lips, the pressure just enough to make him open his mouth. The pill slipped between his teeth easily, with the help of a wet tongue he'd never thought he'd get to taste.
Hot air hit Pete’s cheeks. His heart was beating rapidly. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
Water traveled down his throat, taking the pill with it. Pete blinked. His head felt light, his body even lighter. He didn’t know how to describe the feeling, but he didn’t think it was bad.
He focused, instead, on Vegas, who was standing above him with an unusual sense of confidence.
“Get well soon. That’s an order.”
It was enough to ground Pete back into reality. He was thankful for it.
“Yes, Khun Vegas.”
It was only then that Pete noticed how the color returned on Vegas’ face and how his slight trembling seized.
“Has Pete woken up yet?”
Both of them jumped at the sound of Porsche’s voice. He poked his head into the room, completely oblivious to what had transpired before he showed up.
“Oh, he has. How are you feeling?”
“Good,” he replied sincerely. The pain didn’t bother him anymore.
A smile spread on his lips as he added, “Khun Vegas just gave me my medicine.”
Porsche returned it, though his was more mischievous than playful.
“Pete, you should have seen Vegas while he waited for you to wake up. I’ve never seen him crying so hard-”
Vegas punched Porsche hard on the shoulder to stop him from talking, which made loud laughter escape Pete’s mouth. It earned him a glare, one of Vegas' serious ones.
It'd bring him hell later, but Pete realized he was fine with that.
#it feels so weird posting sth I wrote without having it beta read#shout out to my beautiful beta thank you for keeping me sane#sth I wanted to add but Tumblr doesn't let me is that here Vegas and Pete have a significant age gap#Vegas is 20 at most while Pete is around 28#it's how Laws of Attraction inspired me I'm sorry people#this may turn into an actual fic if I get inspiration to write the rest of it#God it feels good to write again#I have a few more prompts to write and I will I promise#I've kind of figured them all out but it'll take a little while longer#but thank you to everyone who sent me a prompt they're all incredible#it means the world to me#kinnporche the series#vegaspete#fanfic writing#writers asks#writing prompt
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The Ol' Kentucky Welcome
Summary: Eggsy’s attitude gets him into trouble at Statesman HQ. Whiskey and Tequila show him how they handle mouthy recruits with too much pride.
Anon: Hey! Love your work. I was trying to think of something I haven't read. So, kingsman and golden circle. Maybe eggsy, whiskey, and Tatum s characters get real drunk one night, start teasing each other and a full out brawl of a tickle fight happens!!! You can do it!!! Thanks!
Loose handwaving at and spoilers for Kingsman: The Golden Circle.
Becoming a Kingsman had done wonders for Eggsy’s impulse control and sense of self. He’s got restraint now, and better judgement—he doesn’t blindly chase a whim without considering the consequences first.
This is what he tells himself as he poaches a bottle of premium Statesman Reserve whiskey from a supply closet rather ominously labeled ‘This Ain’t For Sharing, Friend’. He makes sure to shuffle the bottles to disguise the large gap left behind on the shelf.
He settles in at the Statesman briefing room table, loosening his tie and shirt collar. He unbuttons his jacket and, in a rare flash of bad manners, kicks his feet up onto one of the nearby chairs.
The thought of Harry scolding him for it tugs at chest.
“Now what do we have here?” Whiskey whistles lowly, ducking into the doorway. Tequila fits in beside him. Eggsy gives a mocking salute before popping the cork on the bottle. He grabs a polished crystal glass from a platter on the table and pours himself a hefty bit.
“Looks to me like we’ve got a thief, Whiskey.” Tequila arches his brow. “Y’ain’t learned your lesson yet, Galahad?”
“Gentlemen.” Eggsy smirks and lifts his glass. The sharp kiss of the liquor burns his tongue, but it washes back with a smoky smoothness unlike anything he'd ever tried. He smacks his lips loudly, enjoying the slight twitch of Whiskey’s eyebrow in response.
“Thought you fancy-types were supposed to be polite.” Whiskey puts his hands on his hips.
“And I thought you brutish types couldn’t make something so delicious.” Eggsy angles the glass in the light. The liquid seems to glow.
Tequila ducks past Whiskey and takes a seat at the table, helping himself to a glass. He clinks glasses with Eggsy and they share another sip. Both of them sigh in unison, sinking deeper into their chairs. Whiskey throws Eggsy’s feet off his chair and takes a seat.
“You’re lucky I ain’t reportin’ you to Ginger Ale for theft.” Whiskey fixes himself a glass. He takes off his hat and rests it on the table. He shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the back of the chair.
“Report me for what?” Eggsy cocks his head. “You fine, upstanding gentlemen cracked open a bottle of your own reserve to share with your guest and I just had to say yes. Would hate to be impolite.”
Whiskey glares. Eggsy sips innocently.
“I like this motherfucker, Whiskey.” Tequila laughs, muffling himself in his fist. Whiskey shifts his glare.
“‘Course you do. You can’t keep your mug outta trouble to save your life.”
“Least my mug ain’t ugly,” Tequila grumbles. Eggsy snorts. Whiskey turns to fish for a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. As he leans forward, a silver shine peeks out of his pants pocket. Eggsy gently plucks a shiny lighter from Whiskey’s pocket and tucks it into his own.
“Champagne mentioned you’re a cheeky bugger.” Eggsy knocks shoulders with Tequila and winks.
“I dunno what that means.” Tequila frowns. They both watch Whiskey fumble around for the lost lighter and keep smooth, straight expressions.
“You get into shit. He’s fond of you?” Eggsy gestures at him. Tequila nods.
“Yeah, well…he wasn’t always. I’ve always been a bit of a firecracker. Didn’t make the best choices. Got people hurt. Built up a reputation for bein’ a problem, and Champagne started makin’ me own it.” Tequila watches his whiskey swirl in his glass. Eggsy hums thoughtfully.
“Sounds like Harry. He didn’t let me get away with shit. If I did something reckless, it was my arse on the line. But sometimes it paid off.” Eggsy smiles and thinks of stealing Harry’s cab on his way out of initiation.
“To good mentors.” Tequila inclines his head respectfully and raises his glass. Eggsy clinks their glasses together.
The three of them pass the time draining the bottle and looking out over the twinkling lights of the distillery buildings. A boyish mischief settles into Tequila, one that grows as the liquor in the bottle sinks. Whiskey starts to slur his words, but he maintains a hunter’s focus.
“Tell me somethin’, Eggsy. What brought you to Kingsman?” Whiskey watches him over the rim of his glass. His stare is piercing.
“Hm. Harry did. Not so different from Tequila, I reckon. I’d made a right fuckin’ mess and Harry saved me from it. Gave me a job. He saw something in me that no one else did.” Eggsy traces his fingers along the edge of his cup. He glances absently towards Harry’s cell and sighs quickly. Whiskey follows his gaze.
“Did your lepidopterist friend teach you to have sticky fingers, or do you just like causin’ problems?” Whiskey holds his hand out. Eggsy rolls his eyes and hands over the stolen lighter.
“I’ve always been good at nicking things. S’fun.” Eggsy grins and produces Whiskey’s wallet. Whiskey grumbles under his breath and snatches it.
“Feels like you’re the only one of your people that ain’t all hoity-toity. What other secrets are you hiding?” Tequila leans forward. The question grates against Eggsy’s better instincts. He searches Tequila’s face for the slightest bit of ill will. All that sticks is the way light catches softly on his eyes. Eggsy hums and turns his eyes to the ceiling to think.
“Well, my girlfriend bein’ a princess isn’t much of a secret anymore, so…I was a gymnast for a bit.” Eggsy grins. Tequila’s eyes light up and he starts snapping in Whiskey’s direction. For each snap, Whiskey gives a disgruntled hm until eventually they’re just swatting at each other.
“Whiskey, don’t we have them flippy bars down in the gym?” Tequila sniffs, blinking as the liquor hits his sinuses. Eggsy perks up. A spark of excitement picks up atop the warm flush of liquor in his stomach.
“We do. For Statesman agents. Y’know Rum and Cognac get real touchy ‘bout their stuff.” Whiskey raises an eyebrow.
“Well, we’re workin’ together now, ain’t we? ‘Sides, Rum and Cognac ain’t here. Let’s walk him down there. I wanna see what he can do.” Tequila claps Eggsy on the shoulder. Eggsy gives his best winning smile. Whiskey grumbles, then downs the rest of his glass.
“Fuck it. Fine. Five minutes.”
…
They stumble down to the Statesman training facility, passing by a very tired Ginger Ale who opts not to ask why Eggsy’s wearing Tequila’s hat (pretty simple, it’s ‘cause he nicked it). Whiskey puts his thumb to a scanner and the wall unfolds for them.
The lights click on in rows, lighting the industrial space. Eggsy gasps like a kid on Christmas morning.
Sophisticated weight training and combat equipment sit in neat rows. Eggsy locks in directly past that, drifting unconsciously towards a heaping pile of chalk bags. Pommel horses, beams, bars, and hanging rings sprawl out on a spring mat, all in pristine condition. A few launchpads and trampolines lay near the equipment. Eggsy laughs incredulously as he takes it in. Nostalgia flutters in his chest.
Eggsy immediately unbuttons his shirt, folding it cleanly and crisply. He shoves it and the cowboy hat into Tequila’s arms, adjusts his tank top, then works to unlace his shoes. The moment his feet are free, he sprints for one of the springboards. He hits it clean, just like he’d learned, and pushes off the vault, twisting through the air. His landing is a bit messy, but it’s functional, and he takes off to the parallel bars next.
The alcohol writhes in his system, but he doesn’t care. How can he? It’s been years. Coach’d told him he was good enough for the fucking Olympics and he hadn’t touched a set of bars since. The flex of the bars is a comfort to him. He flips and twirls, holding crisp handstands and tucks through muscle memory alone.
He dismounts beautifully from the parallel bars to the pleasant thrum of adrenaline and a smattering of applause.
“Hoowee, that was somethin’!” Tequila ruffles Eggsy’s hair, destroying the last hold of the gel on his head. Eggsy laughs and swats him away.
“Hats off to you, kid. Takes a lot of skill to pull that off.” Whiskey nods in respect. Eggsy returns it.
“I ain’t gonna lie, I thought you were gonna fall on your ass. I’m impressed.” Tequila slugs his shoulder with a brassy laugh.
“Thanks, Tequila.” Eggsy grins roguishly. “Mind givin’ me a boost?”
“Sure.” Tequila follows Eggsy over to the high bar. Whiskey loudly clears his throat.
“Boys, this has been…eye-openin’, but we really should get goin’. Early start tomorrow, I imagine. And this one’ll be fit to collapse when the time difference catches up.” Whiskey inclines his head towards Eggsy.
“Sorry, bruv? Can’t hear you all the way over there.” Eggsy gestures to his ear with a cheeky grin.
“I said—“
“No, no. If you have something to say, come whisper it in my fucking ear.” Eggsy snickers, hearing Merlin’s voice in his head. Whiskey rolls his eyes and saunters over.
“Look, I respect you ‘cause Champagne respects you. Other than that, you’re still a brat that oughta fall into line. Let’s turn in for the night. Both of you.” Whiskey raises his eyebrow. The honey tones of his voice make his annoyance all the more amusing.
“What’re you gonna do about it? Get me with your skipping rope?” Eggsy smirks. Tequila mutters a quiet aw hell and takes a step back.
“Maybe I will, you little shit.”
Eggsy comes to terms with a number of things about himself in that moment, and he puts them all away to process sober. Instead, he gestures for Tequila to give him a hand and reaches up for the bar.
Tequila picks him up by the waist, and it’s not the smooth, assisted lift he’s used to. It’s the clumsy grip of a drunk surprised by weight. Tequila does lift Eggsy up to the bar, but at the cost of his dignity— he spasms and makes a high-pitched noise when Tequila’s fingers press into his waist.
In hindsight, he should’ve seen the way Whiskey’s eyes narrowed at that.
“What the hell was that?” Tequila squints up at him.
“Nothin’. Thought you were gonna drop me. Bugger off.” Eggsy kicks weakly in Tequila’s direction. He backs up, hands raised. Whiskey steps in, hands on his belt.
“Get off the bar, Eggsy.” Whiskey sniffs authoritatively. The logical Kingsman agent buried in Eggsy’s brain sets off warning bells, but Drunk Eggsy, who is obviously of much sounder mind, ignores it.
“Make me, Whiskey.” Eggsy starts to swing in the space he has. Not enough to kick anyone, but enough to look like he will. He manages to rotate clumsily around the bar once, then hangs back down in front of Whiskey.
“You want me to embarrass you in front of your new friend? Okay.” Whiskey steps up to Eggsy and makes a show of sizing him up. Then, quicker than the draw of his pistols, his hands latch onto Eggsy’s sides and squeeze until he’s screaming and plummeting off the bar. Eggsy’s short life flashes before his eyes as he falls bodily into Tequila’s arms.
“Are you fucking mental?” Eggsy goes to shove Whiskey, but Tequila holds him back.
“Woah, watch that mouth of yours!” Whiskey laughs, eyes glittering. “You told me to make you. Your wish is my command, friend.”
Eggsy kicks, trying to break Tequila's hold, and he catches Whiskey right in the balls. He makes a noise like a wounded donkey and folds over. Eggsy snickers. Whiskey whips his reddening face up and glares.
“Now you’ve done it. Tequila!” Whiskey tosses something his way and he catches it. Eggsy barely has time to react before his arms are bound and hoisted in the air above his head. His toes brush the ground. The bar above him creaks in protest but does not give.
Whiskey puts his hands on his hips again. Eggsy wonders if that’s a cowboy thing or an American one.
“Skippin’ rope, bitch.” Whiskey grins, sharklike. “Now…you done with the whole insubordination routine or am I gonna have to give you the ol’ Kentucky Welcome?”
Eggsy snorts derisively. He tests his bindings. They hold steady. Fear starts to pierce through his liquid courage.
“I’m honored, bruv, but I’m in a committed relationship—“
Whiskey clicks his tongue and crowds into Eggsy’s space. He immediately steels himself for violence—what else would there be besides violence? He’s been jumped before. He’s no stranger to the predatory tilt of Whiskey’s head. He sets his jaw and glares.
“When Tequila first joined up, he carried a bit of them clownin’ instincts with him. That didn’t fly with Champagne. We had to figure out a way to take him down a few pegs without hurtin’ him. So, the Kentucky Welcome was born.”
“Aw, fuck you, Whiskey. Seriously, man.” Tequila pipes up from behind Eggsy.
“What does this have to do with me? I know you Americans love to hear yourself talk, but I’m not interested.” Eggsy tries to pull free. Nothing. Whiskey’s gaze gets softer, more mischievous. The change is deeply unnerving.
“Well, you remind me of Tequila. You’ve clearly got a good head on your shoulders, but you’re a little shit. So I’m gonna deal with you the same way we used to deal with him. Last chance, kid. You comin’ quietly or are we gonna have to drag you?”
Eggsy flinches when Whiskey reaches for him—years of habit die hard—and prepares himself for the hard crunch of knuckles into his ribs. Instead, he’s met with a gentle and persistent scritching.
A confused noise bubbles up at the back of Eggsy’s throat, quickly chased by a wobbly smile. He ducks his head and bites his lip.
Oh what the fuck?
Kingsman had taught him to resist the most painful and stressful of scenarios, but they’d never taught him what to do about this. Tilde’s maybe the only person who knows that he’s ticklish, and even then…he can convince her to let him go by kissing her senseless. Eggsy doubts that’ll work here.
“Uh oh, Galahad. Don’t tell me something’s botherin’ you?” Whiskey presses an insincere hand to his heart. Eggsy’s brain stutters for a moment as he realizes that Tequila’s the one scratching at his ribs.
“Fffffuck you.” Eggsy exhales sharply through his nose and closes his eyes--nope, that’s worse. So much worse.
Whiskey tickles under his arms and Eggsy yelps, bright laughter tumbling after. It shouldn’t be this bad—Tilde’s done far worse to him in jest, but somehow the teasing grin of his begrudging allies gets under his skin. His arms flex as he tries to pull himself up and away, but his strength collapses with every breath.
“Aw, y’all are twins.” Whiskey leans around Eggsy to smirk at Tequila.
“Whiskey.” Tequila’s languished tone being hilarious really doesn’t help things. Eggsy’s entire face scrunches as he tries to find his way back towards composure. A hiccup sneaks into his chest, and then he’s giggling incessantly. His chest feels like the sparklers he’d run around with as a kid, bright and fizzling and dissolving with every breath.
“Y’know, I wish I had tried this when I first caught y’all. Prolly woulda gone a hell of a lot faster.” Tequila’s voice floats past Eggsy’s ear. Eggsy manages a giggly growl and a halfhearted headbutt in his direction. Tequila tuts at him and folds his fingers into Eggsy’s waistline.
He makes a noise at a pitch that threatens to shatter every lightbulb in the room. Tequila’s calloused fingers strum Eggsy’s nerves like guitar strings and it tickles, fucking shit—
Tequila hooks his fingers just so and Eggsy kicks. Whiskey snags his ankle before a second devastating impact can occur. They make tortuous eye contact.
“Whiskey—“ Eggsy attempts to appeal to the cowboy’s humanity with what Merlin fondly calls his nuclear puppy eyes.
Grinning wickedly, Whiskey shakes his head and reaches for his trapped foot.
Eggsy’s eyes bug out of his head.
He wrenches his leg free, twists his hands, and flips upwards. Managing a gold-worthy handstand into a dismount, he frees his wrists and lands smoothly. Eggsy playfully curtsies. Tequila starts to clap. Whiskey smacks him upside the head.
“Alright, I’m done playin’ around. Grab him. If we’re caught down here at this hour it’ll be my hide.” Whiskey gestures for Tequila to step in. He does so, still a little off-kilter from the liquor.
Eggsy rushes in, expecting a clumsier rendition of the fighting style he’d been so painfully introduced to. Instead, Tequila smoothly blocks his blows and hoists Eggsy over his shoulder like a sack of fucking potatoes. One of his arms locks behind Eggsy’s thighs as they start to walk for the door. It takes him a moment to even process being upside-down. The sway of Tequila’s gait shakes some blood into his brain.
“Aw, y’all are twins.”
“—deal with you the same way we used to deal with him—“
A lightbulb clicks on in Eggsy’s head. He shouldn’t…but he could…but he shouldn’t—
He shoves his hands under Tequila’s arms. Before he can blink or breathe, they’re in a heap on the ground. Tequila’s cackling dead weight presses the air from Eggsy’s chest.
“Thought you’d put up more of a fight, bruv.” Eggsy’s eyebrows raise. Tequila shrieks at him in response. Eggsy manages to wiggle free and hop lightly to his feet as Tequila gathers his wits.
“There’s one of you and two of us. Be wise.” Whiskey cracks his neck. Eggsy looks over at Tequila and smirks devilishly. Tequila pales.
“I like those odds.”
The flurry of motion as they charge each other sets off the ‘fight’ center in his brain, but there is some comfort in knowing no harm is on the table. Eggsy flips and twists out of their grasp, taking advantage of his flexibility to pull off increasingly ridiculous dodges. He neatly sweeps both Whiskey and Tequila’s legs out from under them.
“Little help?” Whiskey gestures lamely at Tequila.
“Nah, I’m done. Y’all are nuts.” Tequila lays on his back, putting his hat down over his face. He folds his arms behind his head. Whiskey curses at him. Tequila gives him the finger.
Whiskey grabs Eggsy by the back of the shirt--really, he should know better--and Eggsy sweeps him again. Whiskey’s ready for it this time, though, and he manages a pin faster than Eggsy can roll away. Whiskey plants himself on Eggsy’s back like he’s settling on a bull.
“Aren’t you tired? Goddamn.” Whiskey sighs. Eggsy winces at the texture of the mat against his cheek.
It reminds him of Roxy and agonizing training sessions, of hours of sweat and bruising and his face stinging from being slammed into the mat. Even past the wave of grief, he remembers the shape of her smile when she would lecture him about letting her pin him on his stomach.
“Indefensible,” she’d say, prodding the back of his ribs. “You’re a sitting duck like this.”
And every time he’d roll his eyes, hooking his fingers behind her knees--
Oh. Hm.
As best as he can, he reaches back and latches onto Whiskey’s thigh, squeezing just above his knee. Whiskey hollers and tries to phase right through the floor. Eggsy rolls them over and pursues, squeezing and squeezing until Whiskey is a wheezing pile on the floor.
Eggsy flips onto his feet. He knows he’s imagining the fond, ghostly squeeze on his shoulder, but he puts his hand on the spot anyways.
“Now I’m tired. Goodnight, fellas.” Eggsy salutes with a wide grin, stepping over both cowboys. He gathers his belongings and saunters for the door, whistling pleasantly.
Whiskey rubs a hand over his face as he stares up at the ceiling.
“Kid’s fuckin’ lucky I like him,” Whiskey grumbles, pushing himself up onto his elbows.
“Might not wanna speak too soon. He took your hat.” Tequila puts his own ten-gallon back on his head and gestures towards the door with a whistle. Whiskey growls and shoots to his feet.
“Motherfucker! Eggsy!”
#my fics#this fic truly wrote itself. i blacked out and it just happened#and then i realized i didnt properly read the prompt and then rewrote it lol#is this good? *vague mumbling and shrugging*. did i have fun? absolutely#kingsman#ticklish!eggsy#eggsy unwin#ticklish!whiskey#agent whiskey#ticklish!tequila#agent tequila#<- contenders for some of my silliest tags#theres an au in my head where roxy merlin eggsy and harry play cowboy with the statesman agents for a while#mostly bc i want cowboy roxy...#anyways ive wanted to write kingsman forever! thx for the prompt hope you enjoy <3#also anon 'you can do it!!! thanks!!!' has been in my head since you sent the prompt. like yea i CAN do it!!! thank YOU!!!!
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sooooo... *twirls her hair* how many asks should i send until kuwagami art. jk as well. the real question will be: does it happen often that someone else’s art inspires you? in fandom spaces specifically
well you see it’s like a loyalty card program, every 10 asks or so you get a complimentary kuwagami
just kidding you can just breathe in my direction and I’ll be tempted to draw them. kuwagami blast! (you've caught me on a... just okay art day lol)
(people still like kabedons, right?)
anyway for my actual answer:
in terms of direct inspiration, it doesn't really happen much? the last two times i did art directly based on someone else's work is probably this one from this fic, and also that time i drew art of someone else's judgment au. oh! and there's that moriohpsycho art based on this comic! (filthyguts' work is so very. hgngngghh. very good.)
nothing else really comes to mind, and when i think of the other things i've been into recently there hasn't been as much opportunity for that to happen...
flex and herds = strong fixation but lmao. almost nobody else made stuff about them. nobody is surprised
umineko = surprisingly i don't read much umineko fanfiction? and in terms of illustration, i certainly picked up imagery and indirect inspiration but nothing concrete enough for me to give an example... now that i think about it, i did once draw andromalius from redaction/sunny, but that was years ago, and also mostly because i was acquainted with the writer. ...i don't have that artwork on hand right now
death note = didn't really get involved with the fandom + i enjoyed my own ideas well enough! ...i can't recall if i drew long-hair-L art before or after seeing other artists do it.
and as for everything else the same kind of reasoning applies. didn't really get involved with the fandom or wasn't really compelled to make art in response to stuff i saw, or i just don't remember anymore.
buuuuuuut if we're opening this up to just... pulling ideas from other people? then yeah, all the time, though that kind of goes without saying when you have a creative hobby. ...it's probably going to be hard to come up with examples of this since it's more ambiguous.
there's uhhhhhh... kuwana listens to nickelback which was a @/four-white-trees invention, wasn't it? (EDIT: and @/overdevelopedglasses!) (not tagging in this post so he doesn't feel obligated to read my big ass ask responses 💀) as of writing this, it's not posted but i did end up making kuwagami art based on a nickelback song so. yknow. there's that LMAO
for sawashiro and arakawa, i do sometimes go reference @/todayisafridaynight 's art to help me with my own. ("how did he draw this part of the suit? oh, like that huh? hmm" <- this kind of thing)
and um. i'm not trying to pander to you (at least not this time), but genuinely it's one of the few examples that come to mind at this moment. but when i was writing my first kuwagami fic, i could feel the influence of the ever-changing on my brain... was turning over some of your ideas there...
you remember this? (you even pointed it out in your comment on my fic, and i should've said something then, but whatever i'm saying it now)
that was absolutely because of this
(obligatory poke at anybody else reading this post that you can read passthroughtime's fic here.)
so, um. yeah. not really sure what else to add to that. pretty self evident i think. (i'm always talking about the ever-changing but i don't think i can overstate the impression it left on me at the time)
anyhow there aren't really any other examples off the top of my head! these are all recent examples so they're not so difficult to recall, but there are probably others i've forgotten...
#jitxt#started writing this unsure if i could give many examples and i ended up with more than i expected. nice!#sunny is a very good piece of umineko writing and i should reread it with the author's notes toggled on. and also read redaction#“shouldn't you have read redaction first” n-no. shut up! (besides i think renall said it was fine)#nobody remind me of that 20k note post that's just an uncredited screenshot of sunny. it'll piss me off#as cosmic balance i ought to shill sunny as much as possible#anyway uhhhhhh. the everchanging.#i am awful about receiving compliments (i never know how to respond aside from a rehearsed “thank you”) but i sure am great at giving them!#apologies if i'm laying it on too thick but#1. i am being truthful and#2. i figure it's reparations for all the time i spent as a lurker on the kuwagami ao3 tag#the explosion in my brain when i realised that “the nice person who leaves lots of tags on my kuwagami art”#and “the person who wrote that REALLY FUCKING GOOD FIC” were one and the same. crazy. and now we are mutuals ❤#it is a little funny thinking of when i'd read your and four-white-trees' work before meeting you#real life foreshadowing for me meeting you both....#i still have these discord messages of me telling a friend about both your works#basically: (reading an update to the everchanging) wow that was depressing (reading a joke in four-white-trees' fic) nevermind i'm good now#i ought to reread the everchanging and take detailed notes on all the parts i like#just so you know your impact on my brain lol#kuwana calling yagami a pretty boy and meaning it sincerely oh my GOD. rewired my brain
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I was thinking about how the run away with me au Robin and Steve "should we get divorced?" conversation comes about:
Theyre about 23 and Robin comes home in tears after another break up. The reason: Robin had asked her girlfriend of 8 months, Lorraine to move in with her and steve. Lorraine assumes this means steve is moving out and when Robin clarifys that no Steve is staying, he's an important part of her life theyre married for chists sake. Well Lorraine doesnt take that well, says she isnt going to spend her life playing second fiddle to Steve.
This isnt the first time a relationship had ended for either of them because a partner hadnt been able to accept that Steve and Robin were a package deal. Things had been especially rough for them romantically in the first couple years of their marriage. It wasnt until a particularly awful screaming match between Robin, Steve and Steves first real boyfriend, that they were able to admit their relationship was incredibly codependent and unhealthy. Steves boyfriend had been upset when Steve had cancelled on him for the 3rd time in a row because of a Robin Emergency™️ and decided to confront Robin about it while Steve was in class. Things escalated quickly when Steve came home early from class to find them arguing and immediately took Robins side. The argument and Steves relationship ended with a slammed door, a lot of tears and a new rift in Robin and Steves relationship.
It took a lot of long conversations with Carina and Marjorie, Steve working through his toxic masculinity enough to go see a therapist - He and Robin made a deal that theyd both go talk to someone about, you know almost dieing "do you think me being fucked up by what happened at starcourt makes me weak steve?" "No of course not!" "Well then why would it make you weak?" - and a summer spent apart (Robin taking an internship in rome to study latin) for them to sit down and have a long conversation about boundaries and ground rules for how they would navigate their relationship as well as dating in the future.
Steve and Robin agreed to both take a break from dating while they worked through their respective traumas, and figured out how to navigate their relationship in a healthy way. Things werent easy, the both of them occasionally backsliding into unhealthy behaviors, more than a few nights where one of them spent the night with Carina and Marjorie in order to have space from eachother. But eventually they get their shit figured out and decide to brave the world of dating again. Steve and Robin both have their share of flings and short lived relationships but nothing so far seemed to stick. That is until Robin met Lorraine.
Lorraine was funny, sweet and a little bitchy. They had immediately clicked after being introduced by some mutual friends from school. Robin really thought things with Lorraine were going to work out. Steve and Lorraine had gotten on like a house on fire, she had slipped into Robin and Steves dynamic easily, trading jokes and light hearted jabs, cooking breakfast together on days Lorraine would stay at their apartment. Robin had fallen hard and fast, she thought she had finally found someone who accepted that her and Steve were a package deal. So 8 months in when Lorraines lease was ending Robin (with agreement from steve) asked Lorraine to move in. Things don't go to plan. Robins dreams of a future with lorraine are shattered. She goes home broken hearted.
After Robin has cried herself out, her and steve cuddled together on the couch Steve is the one to broach the topic. Robin immediately bursts back into tears before he calms her back down again saying he doesnt want a divorce but he also doesnt want to hold Robin back, doesnt want to be the reason she cant find happiness. Robin replys by saying if anyone is holding the other back its obviously her, steve gave up everything to protect her afterall. Steve calls bullshit -years of therapy and he can finally say that word without cringing- says he would do it all again in a heartbeat, that she doesn't owe him anything. They stay up all night talking about it, about what the both of them want from their futures. Neither can see a future without the other. they're platonic life partners, one day they'll find their someones who can accept that and if not well, they'll always have eachother.
Of course they do find their someones in the form of a charming if infuriating metal head and a brilliant, sweet, and badass reporter. Through trial and error the four of them figure out how to navigate life together. They all live happy ever after.
Robin and Steve celebrate 30 years of marriage with divorce papers. They'll always love eachother but now they dont need a marriage to keep eachother safe. They dont need a marriage to stay as platonic life partners. They have eachother and they have Eddie and Nancy. They have everything they need.
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Lmk what you think! I'd love to have someone to scream with about this AU and bounce ideas off of :D
Tagging by request <3 @ramyayaya
#i think steve and eddie find eachother infuriating in a good way and also a sexy way and i love that for them#i wrote this instead of sleeping#i'll actually turn this into a fleshed out fic i swear. i just happened to see a post talking about how a lot of fics make steve and robin#imcredibly codependent and started thinking about how i would handle that in my fic and decided to write out my ideas#i dont want it to come off as magically theyre perfect and okay. i think things would be messy in the beginning. and still a bit messy#even after bc theyre only human you know. i think having elder queers to talk to would be so important to them for helping them figure#things out you know#i think eddie and nancy wouldnt enter the picture until Steve and robin are 27/28#im also still trying to figure out relationship dynamics bc the fruity 4 are in a polycule and how i think that would be for them#no matter which way you look at it the relationship between the 4 of them is inherently queer and thats beautiful#i hesitate to have eddie and nancy marry eachother in turn bc yknow heteronormativity#i think people assume theyre together and that eddie and nancy never confirm or deny why people make that assumption#but idk if they ever get married idk ill have to think about it#if you read this far in my tags feel free to hop in my dms and scream with me about this au#id love to have someone to bounce ideas off of#run away with me au#platonic stobbin#robin buckley#steve harrington#steddie#ronance#long post
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Johnny's range: from taking on Arasaka tower to crying in front of V in their apartment. he's so used to barking orders because so many things have been out of his control for so long.
but in order to comfort him, I need him helpless, vulnerable, defenseless, and maybe overwhelmed. and it sounds worse than what i have in my mind, but still. no barking orders, just tenderness. deep genuine talk. no bullshit such as 'you mean nothing to me.'
that man, just like Kerry, needs so much fucking therapy. (that's why they can work on their feelings together)
#natiswriting#cyberpunk 2077#johnny silverhand#silverdyne#cb2077#i'm trying to figure out how the hell do i get out of that ooc silverdyne that i wrote#i need a good balance between his sassiness and his ability to be tender and understanding#also#i need some dog poetry i think#i am Thinking#if you're reading this and you have advice on how to write johnny in character#send it my way pls#though he IS helpless in my fic since he's coming down from both a surgery and a fever
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