#looking at my top five fics like: i wrote for the magicians???
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AO3 Tag Game!
Thank you for the tag @misty-wisp :D This looks so fun!
How many works do you have on AO3?
12! And it's steadily increasing as I get more (and randomly) ideas to write fics bout >:3c
What's your total AO3 word count?
126,004! Whoooaaa... That's a lot :o Ngl, I barely visit the statistics of my ao3 account so I didn't expect that one.
How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?
Okay, so... it's 5? I think. On my main ao3 account it's 2 though! OMORI and Mahoyaku! Buuuut! I've written for Persona 5 (with Magic Kaito) but I'm... too shy to put it in my ao3 account so it's just in my tumblr. The other 2 is somewhere else... (I've written a oneshot for Genshin Impact in an old ao3 account that I don't wanna open up again cuz it's so embarrassing for me... I don't even wanna read that oneshot, I'd die of embarrassment. And the other one is Honkai Impact 3rd, I forgot where I put that one but I do know I wrote a oneshot with Bronya and Seele for it).
Top five fics by kudos:
It's all from OMORI!
Once again, from the beginning - I did not really expect this one to have as much kudos as it has now, like, tbf yea it's my most well planned one but it's still so crazy to see the kudos on it-- wai when did it pass that number-- I never really check the kudos but wtf happened here.
The Tune of the New Morning - How did this one get that many kudos too??? This is my very first OMORI fic and ngl, whenever I look at it I get the very strong urge to rewrite everything from the beginning cuz of how badly planned it is. If OAFB is well planned, this one is terribly planned. I literally make things up as I go.
Magician in the Mirror - Is in the top 3!!! Lookit!!! :D The work I'm proudest in cuz this is my 2nd fic and also the one I just went ham on! I wanted it out during anni and it was all a last minute thing but I'm so glad it turned out well despite that!
The Pawn and the Bishops - I didn't expect to see this one here but alas... it is... I quite like this one though! It's the first one I've written with a fairly heavy and gloomy atmosphere and I think I did pretty good on it!
And thus, the snake ate no more - I see you're here too... This one is actually like a mix of my planning between OAFB and TNM in which that it's in the middle of well planned and terribly planned. Think of it as the middle child of my longfics. With OAFB being the spoiled youngest and TNM the unplanned first child.
Do you respond to comments?
YES! As much as I can! I like receiving comments and I like responding to them as best as I can but I also get pretty nervous bout it... so I end up barely responding anyway oh boooooo.
What's the fic with the angstiest ending you've ever written?
I??? Don't think? I have written any with an angsty ending yet? I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort so most of the fics I've written so far always had a happy ending so! Maybe in the future 👀 Maybe.
Do you write crossovers?
Is the Kaito Kuroba from Magic Kaito in Persona 5 now as Akiren and Co.'s friend stuff I've written considered crossover? If so then yes! It's actually pretty fun to write one! :D
Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?
I don't think so? Pretty happy that I haven't yet, thank goodness!
Do you write smut?
Nope! I don't know if I would though, truth be told I don't have much knowledge with writing smut, I barely read any stories (novel wise) with it as a guideline cuz I... I can't visualize it well enough, my brain is not equipped for it (I try to read smut and spend the next few minutes figuring out the characters' positions. Yall smut writers out there impressive with it cuz honestly how).
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Nope and thank god for that!
Have you ever had a fic translated?
I HAVE!!! AM SO HAPPY BOUT IT!!! :D Someone translated Magician in the Mirror to Chinese and it's so cool!!! I think there's only a Chapter 1 of it but it's so cool and nice and sweet and awwwwww.
What’s your all-time favorite ship?
Alright, sit down. This is very important. I need you to listen closely, attentively, and carefully... I Love CaiOwe/OweCai. I LOVE CAIN/OWEN!!! OWEN/CAIN!!! CAIN&OWEN I LOOOOOVVVEEE ANYTHING WITH CAIN AND OWEN!!! It's my all-time favourite ship, nothing can compare to Cain and Owen from the hit japanese game, Mahoutsukai no Yakusoku aka Mahoyaku aka mhyk aka Promise of Wizard. They're my most favourite ship I'd go to war for em, I love em so so much, I adore em sooooooo much, I see any fanart of em and my day gets better immediately. They're my lifeblood, my ambrosia, my everything. I love caiowe/owecai with all my heart...
What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?
Looks at oafb, tnm, and attsanm... I'd like to believe that regardless of how much time had passed, I would be able to finish any of those three though. Hyperfixation gone or not, I wanna finish em!
What are your writing strengths?
I think it'd be monologue? Inner monologue? What do you call that thing where it's just the narrator focusing on the characters' thoughts and feelings and their overall view on the situation??? I think I'm pretty good at that, maybe. And somehow I'm good at accidentally setting things up, I don't know how but I just accidentally do things that connects stuff.
What are your writing weaknesses?
Dialogues... I'm so bad with dialogues most of the time I spend in writing is getting the dialogues right. I'm also really bad at descriptors, I'm bad at describing things so I just try to either describe something as best as I can with the help of searching through the internet or get around that part by just being poetic.
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?
I think it's pretty neat! :o I feel like I've seen fics like that before but can't really remember though I did think it added detail to the story of it!
What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?
Uhhh, I think it waaaaass Honkai Impact 3rd? I think it was the Bronya and Seele fic I've written somewhere that or it was the Genshin Impact fic instead. It was either of those two.
What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?
Magician in the Mirror!!! It's my favourite I've written so far and the one I'm proudest of! And a lil biased, but the latest favourite one that I've just recently written is Look back, Orpheus which is a fic for caiowe from mhyk! Once again, from the beginning is the 2nd favourite though :3
Thank you again for the tag! Dunno who to tag though but for anyone that sees this, feel free to do it! :D
#tag game#this was so fun!#have i convinced yall yet how much i love caiowe. i rlly adore that ship a lot its my fave one ever#also am not gonna say the title of the gi fic out of embarrassment... cuz like i made that when i was still unsure#how to write 3rd person after getting trapped writing in 1st person for years. that thing along with the hi3 fic is most likely#written really badly and like-- ohmygod im not gonna look at it. i can still vaguely remember what it was about and god bro--#embarrassing... why was my writing in the past like that its got like a needlessly mysterious air to it like gurl what are you doing#the only hint im giving for that gi fic is that it has venti and aether in it cuz it was around 1.1 days and i chose aether so like#also the reason why i yeeted away from that account and made a new one is that i wanted to start clean and as embarrassing#as the fics ive written there are (which is just the gi fic and one thats an oc fic for my old friend group that ive drifted away from)#i didnt wanna delete any of it. i think its a nice memento. i also didnt wanna orphan the account or any of the works too#so i just start with a new account! honestly glad and happy that gi fic doesnt have that many kudos. pheeeewww
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author interview
hello friends! figured as long as i am procrastinating writing i may as well answer these questions. i was tagged by the wonderful @thrillingdetectivetales! thank u beloved :-)
1. how many works do you have on ao3?
40! it used to be more but i broke my ‘no deleting works’ rule to get rid of a few that i honestly believe were doing more harm than good being up.
2. what’s your total ao3 word count?
317,486. kinda wild! i remember hitting 100,000 and being like, holy shit. that’s a lot of words.
3. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?
1. peaches & plums, the magicians, 833 kudos
2. Come With Me, hamilton, 514 kudos
3. some are born to endless night, star wars, 329 kudos
4. if it is not alright now, then now is not the end, hamilton, 307 kudos
5. promises are meant to be kept, hamilton, 228 words
i’m gonna go ahead and disclaim that list with the simple facts that a, hamilton is my oldest fandom so those fics have been around the longest, and b, i wrote main pairs for hamilton. i do not do that very much anymore. is a huge relief that my most kudosed fic is not hamilton, though.
4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?
yes! i love receiving and replying to comments. discussing fic is one of my favorite things in thee world. this is maybe a bad thing, but one of the things that makes me more likely to comment on other people’s fic is if they tend to respond to comments: for me, comments are a space to engage with the author and let them know what you liked or ask any questions you may have. if they don’t engage, i feel a little weird shouting into the void. so i try to give that kind of engagement to my own readers! should note that i do sometimes fail to reply to shorter comments on older fics, but otherwise i think i’ve replied to almost every comment i’ve ever gotten.
5. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
the deleted ones. they sure were about being a teenager and being catastrophically sad about it. god. and a lot of my fics that are still up from before, idk, 2018? are just pure self-indulgent angst. i don’t like to look at them. i guess more recently, the ‘angstiest’ fics i’ve written would be you were the most exciting thing i’d ever known (turn), cough it out (undrafted), and d’celui que son coeur aime (hockey rpf), but i’d say those endings are less angsty than unresolved, in a way that, you know, could be hopeful.
6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?
well, if they’re not interminable angst, they’re all pretty happy. not sure how to quantify that. my older fics tend to end with more unbridled joy, i suppose, but i couldn’t name a Happiest One.
7. do you write crossovers? if so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?
i have never published a crossover. HOWEVER, a long, long time ago, my friend and i came up with the idea for a sense8/hamilton crossover that crosses my mind every so often. i’ve always loved the band of brothers/the pacific crossover fics as well, and that one sledgefu/baberoe mixup fic from a couple years ago lives rent free in my brain. i would love to explore that further. (on another note, everyone keeps ignoring the brock boeser/harry jowsey hockey rpf/too hot to handle crossover event that i would like to force you all to bear witness to. but i’m not sure that counts as a crossover because it’s just two ‘real life’ dudes who i think should kiss.)
8. have you ever received hate on a fic?
nope! everyone has been lovely and kind and uplifting to me during my time on ao3. i’ve received some strange comments, but no mean ones.
9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?
yes! but i am relatively new to it. (i say this. i have been writing it for two? three? years? but i have not published very much of it, so i still feel like a newborn fawn every time i venture into that genre.) i am also not sure what ‘what kind’ is supposed to mean, but i did write hockey rpf knifeplay that one time. cheers?
10. have you ever had a fic stolen?
nope! i do not think i am popular enough for anyone looking for fic to steal to happen across me. i do think someone trying to claim, like, ballet class with a visitor (hockey rpf) as their own would be funny, though.
11. have you ever had a fic translated?
not yet! i think one may? be in the works? but i have not heard back from the person responsible for a bit. i welcome all fic translation requests!
12. have you ever co-written a fic before?
nope, and i don’t plan on it! i am a terror in group projects. i could be working with, idk, markus zusak and i still wouldn’t trust him to put my ideas into words in a way that i wanted. i just get very controlling and snippy if my style and my co-writer’s style don’t exactly mesh, so i can happily say co-writing fic would be a bad time for everyone involved, and i don’t want to put anyone through that.
13. what’s your all-time favorite ship?
hmmmm i don’t think i have one! if you’d asked me this five years ago, the answer might have been alexander hamilton/john laurens. if you’d asked three years ago, it might have been lewis nixon/dick winters. if you’d asked, like, six months ago it would’ve been ‘idk, something hockey-related?’ i am fickle and changeable and cannot pick favorites.
14. what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
oh, so many ideas for the pacific. sometimes i go back and listen longingly to the playlist for a little less human (the pacific) and think about how much i love pirates. and then i remember how much i hate plot, and yeah. that fic is not getting written. would love to repurpose it into an original pirate lesbian story if i ever decide that plot is my thing, though.
15. what are your writing strengths?
i like to think i write pretty good descriptive prose! people also tend to like the way i handle relationship dynamics, the way i write pretty genuine human emotions, and my fondness for metaphors/motifs.
16. what are your writing weaknesses?
haha. i don’t like editing. at all. once i finish writing something, i don’t want to look at it anymore. it’s already embarrassing, get it away. let someone else on the internet read it and judge it so i don’t have to think about it. i can force myself through like, one or two rounds of editing (and by that i mean like. light editing. grammatical errors, word choice, etc. i am not rewriting whole sections or anything), but after that i need several days (weeks? months?) before i can even think about reading it closely again. i think because of that, a lot of my writing reads like a first draft. it can get purple, repetitive, unoriginal. but i’m also having fun with it and i learn something new with every story i write, so i’m not, like, mad about it.
17. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
i do this a lot! i think it takes practice to understand how to include it in a way that’s not clunky or awkward, but it can be really effective if you’re doing it for a reason. i also think it helps if you are actually multilingual or can talk to someone who is, because you can think about it from a personal perspective. like, when i’m throwing in dialogue in another language, i’m thinking, okay, how would i do this? why would i do this? would i do this if i were in this specific situation? how do i think about switching languages? how do i use the languages i speak in different situations? and so on. i will say, if there’s a fic that includes another language in a weird or awkward way, it’s an instant turn-off for me, haha.
18. what was the first fandom you wrote for?
well, that depends on how you define ‘wrote for.’ i wrote warrior cats roleplays with my friends for like, five or six years of my life. and i mean four hundred page tomes of roleplays, full of stupid conflict and overripe descriptions and a million cats named shit like mistytwilight. then i wrote really shitty supernatural fanfiction in middle school that i never published because i barely knew what an ao3 was. and then i published my first fic on ao3, and it was for hamilton. so take your pick.
19. what’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?
the terror!!!!!!!!!!! on GOD i will write something for that stupid show, i just need to get over being intimidated by the super intellectual fandom, lmao. everyone i have met through the terror has been so smart and good at writing and knowledgeable about everything to do with 19th century naval exploration, and i feel like a small child throwing out a peace sign every so often when i reblog a silly gifset of the square man who is in love with the little teapot man.
20. what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?
it’s still gotta be got no brakes (hockey rpf). my magnum opus. quite honestly the best thing i have ever written. this is the one piece of writing i can revisit as many times as i please and not cringe internally at any part of it. every time i read it i have a brief flicker of hope that maybe, maybe, through all the bullshit and writer’s block and self-doubt and bad bad fanfiction, maybe i am a decent writer. it’s also just incredibly absurd, and it reminds me of people who i love a lot because it is essentially one extended inside joke. just many good feelings tied to jeep fic, and i think everyone should experience it.
thank you again for the tag! that was very fun. i love to be chatty. i am tagging whoever sees this and wants to word vomit all over the post editor like i just did!
#bees speaks#rpf talk#im always conflicted about how to tag these but whatever. it's a good time!!#you know when you get really deep in one fandom and you forget that you were ever into anything else#that's me rn#looking at my top five fics like: i wrote for the magicians???#where tf is my ottawa senators fic???
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Here’s part 1 of some scenes for “episodes” of gilmoregirlsnatural based on @heathyr’s post. I chugged coffee and wrote this like a maniac so feel free to ignore it if it sucks. I am simply writing to entertain my one braincell.
This first one is loosely based off the very first scene in Gilmore girls [up to the one minute mark] and this [up to the 40 sec mark] from the pilot episode.
Dean watches Cas enter his diner carrying the world’s largest messenger bag and a gigantic bright yellow mug with a bee on it. He sheds his trench coat, depositing it and the bag in one swift motion onto the usual chair at his usual table by the big window. He’s at the counter before Dean can even blink.
“Hello, Dean. Coffee, please.”
“Okay, how many cups have you had this morning?”
Cas glares at him.
“No cups.”
Dean throws the rag he was using over his shoulder and tilts his head, looking up and pursing his lips.
“Plus….?”
“Five cups,” Castiel sheepishly admits. “But yours is better.”
“You have a problem.”
“Yes, I do. There is no coffee in this final, sixth cup.”
Dean fights a smile.
“Final my ass.”
Cas looks at him pointedly and pushes the mug closer to him.
Dean shakes his head. “Junkie,” he mutters as he pours coffee into Cas’s mug. Castiel’s blue eyes widen as he watches the steam rise from the cup. And Dean’s grip on the pitcher tightens for no discernible reason at all.
“Thank you,” says Cas sweetly. “You’re an angel, Dean.”
Angel isn’t exactly the word Dean would use to describe himself. In fact, he knows who he might use it for, but his brain is actively not thinking about that, especially while pouring coffee into a crazed caffeine addict’s bee-themed mug.
Dean’s face impressively avoids showing this dangerous and derailing train of thought. Instead, he raises his eyebrows at Cas.
Thankfully, the phone rings, interrupting his thoughts about it and preventing him from overfilling Cas’s mega-mug. Dean turns to answer it, watching over his shoulder at Cas rushing back to his table with the prized coffee clutched to his chest like a lifeline.
After the call, only a few more minutes go by before the bell on the shop door inevitably dings again. Jack enters Dean’s diner with the world’s largest backpack slung over his shoulders and a metric ton of books in his arms. He sits down at the usual table, in his usual chair, across from Castiel.
Jack shivers. “Burr.”
“You’re cold,” Dean hears Cas say.
“Freezing.”
“What do you need? Hot chocolate? Coffee?”
“Chapstick.”
“Here…” Castiel starts rifling through his bag. He smiles triumphantly as he pulls out a clear plastic zip-bag the size of which makes Dean question if the messenger bag is somehow bigger on the inside.
“I have honey, vanilla, almond or coconut.”
Jack frowns and leans over the table to look at the selection.
“Do you have anything sweeter or fruitier?”
“Maybe.”
Like a magician pulling rabbits from a hat, Castiel brings out a second, even more impressively sized baggie.
Jack quirks an eyebrow as he watches. “I can’t imagine you don’t.”
“Someone is a little crabby today.”
“I’m sorry,” says Jack. He lays his head down on top of his stack of books on the table and peers up at Castiel mournfully. “I lost my favorite Beyonce cd and I think I might be suffering from a lack of caffeine.”
“Ah, well….Actually, I have your missing Beyonce cd.”
“You stole it,” grumbles Jack.
Castiel produces it from one of the thousands of pockets on the front of his bag. “Here.” He passes it to Jack’s side of the table and gives his son’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I will make it up to you and get you some caffeine.”
Jack’s pouty frown instantly turns into a smile.
Cas grabs a second mug from the pocket of his trench coat (possibly also as bottomless as the messenger bag) and flies back to the front counter. He slides a mug with little yellow flowers on it in front of Dean. Then, he folds his hands and rests his elbows on the countertop, an expectant look shining out from his bright blue eyes.
Dean returns his stare with a smug smile. Cas rolls his eyes.
“It’s not for me. It’s for Jack.”
Jack perks up and smiles, raising a hand when he hears his name. “Hello!”
Cas rivals Deans look with a sassy tilt of his head toward their table. See.
Dean sighs and gives Jack a little wave back before he starts pouring another cup of coffee that will no doubt be Castiel’s partial seventh cup that day. Since Jack likes to share.
“Your heart’s gonna explode one day, you know.”
“Luckily, my heart is very resilient.”
Cas reaches for the mug too soon before he’s finished pouring and their hands brush for half a second too long. Dean somehow manages to be pissed about his own heart threatening to explode before his brain goes static. But before he can recover or say anything witty back, Cas is marching away back to his table.
Castiel sits the steaming mug in front of Jack who is just finishing applying nougat flavored lip balm that he managed to find in the chaos of Cas’s infinite collection of bags. They each take a sip from their mugs at the exact same time, smiling over the top of them at each other in the exact same way.
And, looking over at them from the bar, Dean can’t hide a little fond smile of his own.
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part 1 of ?.
feel free to let me know in the tags or in the notes if you would read a full fic of this AU :)
#gilmoregirlsnatural#@heathyr#spn#supernatural#my fic#not my idea though#castiel#cas#jack kline#dean winchester#destiel#deancas#destiel au#crossover#they are a little ooc#i'm still trying to figure out how to translate their characters to this AU#this reads kinda like crack now that i look at it#i am sorry @heathyr#someone better should write this!!!#needs more clever snappy dialogue that's in character
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Fanfic Writer 20 Questions!
thanks @lumiereandcogsworth!! i love talking about myself for 27 years
how many works do you have on ao3? honestly don’t know! but on my fic page i currently have 192 fics and that’s out of date, so I’m def past 200 by now :) [also that list lumps together multi-part fics so with those i have. uhh. way too many]
what’s your total ao3 word count? lmao i never pay attention to word counts. write what you wanna write you know?
how many fandoms have you written for and what are they? i’ve only ever written for beauty and the beast really. i didn’t do ‘fandoms’ as a kid [and thank god for that] so a lot of the stories i told that were directly tied to media just live in my head and don’t have a home on the internet. if i DID ever expand past batb i’d want to write doctor who like the nasty little geek i am, and for a hot second there i thought i’d write for the magicians (before it turned into a total dumpster fire)
what are your top five fics by kudos? the ones that always take off are matches, amnesiac adam, lit by the sun, the Haunted Halls of Villeneuve Castle (the bfu crossover), and the most beautiful people. really glad because i like all those fics and love seeing people appreciate them! there’s also been a ridiculous outpouring of love for belle says i love you before leaving which is hilarious because i wrote that in about .15 seconds in a passion of crack
do you respond to comments? YES i LOVE comments they are the whole reason for doing this!! (well no, but knowing someone liked it always gives the encouragement to write another one)
what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? oh uhh good question. memoires was heading pretty bleak but rights itself (also btw @myfellowcandlesticks i JUST saw all your comments thank you SO FUCKING MUCH). the writing-desk has no happy ending; sleep and specters haunts; flicker in, flicker out is about as angst as lumiere gets. transformation is one of my best angst fics; laughing still holds plumette’s last moment; fire and feathers is full of angst (bad angst!) but doesn’t have a bad ending.
do you write crossovers? yes! always down for a good one. [send me some. no promises if i haven’t seen it]
have you ever received hate on a fic? no! gotten some kinda weird comments and suggestions but i think everyone knows they’d go down in a gunshot of candle smoke if they fuck w me lol
do you write smut? if so, what kind? not really but i’ve kind of wanted to try it
have you ever had a fic stolen? again. no. they’d have to deal w this bitch
have you ever had a fic translated? actually yes i did get an ask once asking if they could translate my work! i never heard back about that but it was such an honor. i don’t remember which language though? maybe french? (lol i hope they translated all of lumiere’s french into canadian)
have you ever co-written a fic before? yes! i’ve collaborated with @theteaisaddictive, @batbobsession, and once there was a massive fic that hauled in @sweetfayetanner @morgaine2005 @tinydooms and @naturepointstheway too. also @forr-everrmorre once collaborated on *writing this blog* in a weird instance of switching personalities (look. we’ve all seen some shit)
what’s your all-time favorite ship? plumiere <3
whats a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? i don’t have any hope for ever finishing ‘kidnapped’ (ie baby’s first longform fic that was doomed for abandon) and the pirate one didn’t really take off, so i probably won’t finish it (even tho i still love it)
what are your writing strengths? i don’t think anyone really knows their strengths, but I’ve been told I’m very good at voices (I still hold the praise I got for writing Shane and Ryan’s banter very very close to my heart) and little turns of phrase and details that make it real. I try very hard to live in the characters’ voices, and I’m glad when that effort shows! (the dream is to always know exactly who’s talking, even if all the he said/she saids are removed.) I also have been told I’m good at writing home, and I’m good at writing grief—two things I love to write about, and know pretty damn well.
what are your writing weaknesses? i never know how to end the story, and it always kind of peters out to “the sun rising” or some shit like that. also i get too in my head and never finish long fics at all!
also (like lydia!) i’m genuinely uncomfortable writing real, honest fights. i didn’t grow up in a home that was healthy in the way it argued so i tend to go into flight mode when a fight comes up, which isn’t right—I know there are good ways to really get mad at someone and still love them, but that’s not known in my blood enough to come out truly in a fic. plumiere can never fight, only cuddle 💕
what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language? i’m terrible at it but I CANNOT BE STOPPED
what was the first fandom you ever wrote for? oh shit. just remembered a novel-length fic i co-wrote with my best friend in middle school. it involved the beatles and star trek and 1950s movie stars and was, undoubtedly, iconic
what’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written? i love lit by the sun (linked above), but honestly i love so many of these that i will not stop once i start :) the BFU one is up there for me, memoires is definitely up there for me. belle’s amnesia fic is shockingly good, and i will NEVER stop loving the lumiere amnesia fic!
also the one where everyone falls in love with everyone else (the beautiful people one—linked above lol)
TAGGING PEOPLE! i tagged a bunch of writers above who i want to hear from, SO with that said let’s re-tag @myfellowcandlesticks @batbobsession @sweetfayetanner @morgaine2005 @tinydooms @naturepointstheway @theteaisaddictive
#thanks lydia this was so much fun!#im so fuckin egotistical oh my god i think im a genius#victor hugo whomst? leo tolstoy what?? we only stan lumiereswig
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fic writer questions!!
tagged by @marjansmarwani @silvarafael and @morganaspendragonss (thank u!! 💗)
1) how many works do you have on ao3?
75
2) what’s your total ao3 word count?
286,026
3) how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?
i’ve written a handful of very amateur fics for it chapter 2, the get down, the magicians years ago, and most recently the old guard and 911: lone star.
4) what are your top five fics by kudos?
all of them are 911ls ajdnsnsn
like a bright new dream (post-season one tarlos love declarations)
wanna be still with you (2x08 episode tag ft concussed tk)
take me back to the light (post 1x08/pre 1x09 coda)
silver in the night (1x10 episode tag/missing scenes)
tangled in the willows (one shot collection)
5) what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
omg i’m not sure i’ve ever been capable of writing angst without some sort of happy ending…..i’ve definitely written some ambiguous endings though, which are featured here: in my grace/judd fic all so incredibly loud and my nancy/marjan fic hold on to me and this chapter of my tarlos one-shot collection.
6) what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?
i feel like 99% of my fics have happy endings akdnsn but off the top of my head my 2x12 coda felt like maybe we could last forever was one of the heavier things i’ve written and the ending was one lots of comments touched on which made me (‘:
also!! and every harm (is lovingly washed away) and thinkin bout forever both end in sappy double proposals for tarlos which were too much fun to write, and i’m going to plug all my nancy/marjan fics apparently ajdnsn bc make me feel alive also has a pretty happy ending!!!
7) do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?
never written one!
8) do you write smut? if so, what kind?
nothing super explicit, but i’ve ventured into mild/implied sexual content (i doubt it’s very good though ajdnsksn)
9) do you respond to comments? why or why not?
i try to!!! it usually takes a few days after a fic’s been posted but i try and get to them as soon as possible! and i do it to show appreciation for kind words because it really does mean the world 🥺
10) have you ever received hate on a fic?
somehow no.
11) have you ever had a fic stolen?
no, thankfully. at least not that i’m aware of.
12) have you ever had a fic translated?
no! but i’d love that!
13) have you ever co-written a fic before?
i haven’t! it’s definitely something i’m interested in though!!
14) what’s your all-time favourite ship?
i’d have to say any of the lone star pairings, canon or not—but of course tarlos most of all. i’ve just never really had so much inspiration from a pairing before. for instance, my first ever tarlos fic was inspired from the promo image for a scene that never even aired (looking at you dinner scene from 1x05), when before i felt like i had to be several seasons into a show to want to write in that universe. so yeah. tarlos.
15) what’s a wip you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
oh….so many. the first one that comes to mind is the sort of missing scenes between seasons one and two of lone star fic that i just couldn’t get to work for me. i also kind of want to do a canon divergent tarlos fic where they have a much slower burn than what we get on the show, but again..lack of inspiration aksnsn
right now my focus is on the prompt requests from forever ago!!
16) what are your writing strengths?
i’d like to think exposition? describing emotions and scenery? internal thoughts? i love getting lost in the mood of a scene and trying to capture it with words.
17) what are your writing strengths?
ooh uh i’ve always struggled with dialogue. like just making it flow naturally. if i’m not in the right headspace for certain dialogue-heavy scenes it makes writing 10x harder for me akdnsks
18) what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
i think it all depends on the scene/character/context. but, as someone who only speaks english and a little bit of french, i dont really think my thoughts matter here? if speakers of the language in question say something in a fic is offensive or not used properly or call into question the author’s intentions, we should listen to them.
19) what was the last fandom you wrote for?
………lone star, of course.
20) what’s your favourite fic you’ve written?
oh man, i’ve said it before but probably my firefighter!carlos fic lit the spark (that set a fire) because it took me so long. i also loved writing my 2x08 and 2x12 codas (mentioned above) and been twisting to the sun because it allowed me to write some tk and judd!!
i’m pretty sure everyone has been tagged at this point and i hope i don’t forget anyone but!!!@sunshinestrand @rafael-silva @reyescarlos @howtosingit @bellakitse @crockettmarcel feel free to do this if you’d like!!
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... so it goes (1)
so i intended for this to be a prideshipping one shot. i really did. but then suddenly i wrote almost 10k and wasn’t even two thirds of the way done and realized... this needs to be a three shot. below is an edited down to t version of the fic, which is still very long.
you can find the m rated version here and you may click it if you are over 18.
in this is an au where duel monsters is just a very popular card game and seto is still very, very weird about it. you can guess what role atem takes in this fic... a rival that thinks card games are Just For Fun.
if you like my work, please consider buying me a kofi!
This charity gala was boring and Seto envied his younger brother for having the excuse of homework to stay home. Seto almost wished he was still in high school and could claim that attending this event would divert away from his studies. If it weren’t for the fact that being at this event would draw positive press, Seto would’ve never agreed to come. He hated galas, really. He hated that everyone seemed to expect a boring tux out of him and got stares when he defied the boring basic black tux with something a little more suitable to his taste. For the most part, the gala was in a fairly dark room with what he assumed the organizers considered “mood lighting”. He considered tacky. He was on the verge of leaving when out of the corner of the eye, he saw Atem Nasser – son of some Egyptian politician that Seto never bothered to learn the name of, a full year older than Kaiba at 25 – entering, animatedly talking with his stupid friends. But that wasn’t what drew Seto’s eye towards him. No, what drew his eye to Atem (and almost everyone in this room) was the gold suit paired with literally no shirt underneath the jacket. He had on dangling earrings and if Seto wasn’t mistaken, there was a streak of gold underneath Atem’s eyes. It should be the tackiest outfit he’d ever seen and yet... Atem wore it well. As far as Seto was concerned, there might as well be no one in this room but him and Atem.
Perhaps.... perhaps it would be wise for him to leave. Everyone knew the history between him and Atem and their bitter rivalry. Or at least... everyone thought that they knew. They knew the Duel Monsters tournaments and how Atem always seemed to edge out a win from Seto. How Atem spent most of the duels smirking, flirting, and laughing. It was almost like Atem thought it was fun. Part of the thing that drove him the most crazy was Atem was best friends with Yugi Mutou of all people. Mutou, the head of the video game company that was rivals with Kaiba Corp. Even worse was that Atem had locked eyes with Seto and turned to Mutou to say something to him. If he didn’t know Mutou was dating Katsuya Jonouchi, he would easily have assumed that Mutou and Atem had a thing.
It was then that the room got uncomfortable as he realized that he was staring for just a little too long and forgotten that people in this room knew him too. He wondered vaguely if people would even realize that he’d been staring just a little too hard at Atem’s lips or the way he walked with such confidence. If he hadn’t been so focused on Atem and Mutou’s conversation, he would’ve seen Anzu coming. Anzu was yet another member of Atem’s crew and mostly known for originating the role of Dark Magician Girl in a Broadway show he’d personally funded. If he’d known that Anzu would become an annoying thorn in his side, he would never fund the project. Not only that, Anzu had an annoying habit of considering them friends and as such, she talked to him literally any time they met at boring events like this. Anzu had grabbed his bicep with a bright grin and teasingly said, “Come on! Atem and Yugi want to say hi to you!”
She didn’t even wait for an answer before dragging him forcefully over to them. Seto couldn’t help but panic. The first problem was that Atem was too hot to handle tonight. Didn’t he own a shirt? Seto knew he’d seen Atem in shirts before. Why did he not bother with a shirt tonight? It was freezing outside and Seto was concerned that Atem would catch a cold. Wait, no, stop that, he scolded himself. He didn’t care about Atem at all. So what if Atem caught a cold? It was his fault for dressing like that. “Mutou,” he said stiffly to Mutou, taking a moment to prepared himself before he turned to face Atem. Even a moment was not enough to prepare himself. He felt the wind knocked out of him as he came face to face with Atem. Atem’s upper lid had a perfect flick of black eyeliner, gold for his waterline and an intense gaze. Atem’s silver eyes was the worst place for him to look. “... Nasser. I see they let just anyone in now.”
Anzu hip checked him with a roll of her eyes before Jonouchi could say anything in response. “Seto, don’t be so rude,” she said with a light laugh before pointing a finger at Jonouchi with a glare, “That goes for you, Jou.” He figured it wasn’t worth telling her he wasn’t being rude when she got like that. Anzu had a funny way of absolutely ignoring his protests whenever he said he wasn’t rude and absolutely refused to take his side no matter how many times he insisted that he wasn’t being rude. “Besides, I was just thinking! This event is so boring and there’s literally only old people here so... we should all play a game!”
Mutou rolled his eyes at this. “Anzu, I thought we talked about this,” he said before Seto could protest himself. “We are absolutely not playing truth or dare at a charity gala.”
Atem had a glint in his eyes at the challenge and Seto couldn’t help but compare it to the glint he got whenever they dueled. Normally Seto would agree with Mutou here. Playing truth or dare at a gala like this would be stupid. They were here for one reason and it was because it made good PR sense to be seen at an event that benefited the arts. They were giving back. But the glint of challenge was there in Atem’s eyes and Seto had never once backed down from a challenge when Atem issued one. Even if the challenge went unspoken. “Scared, Mutou,” Seto said before he could help himself. “Got some secrets you’d like to keep?”
While normally Mutou wouldn’t be considered intimidating, there was something about his violet eyes turning fierce when challenged. He might be only five foot nine but he sure did manage to seem intimidating despite this glaring flaw. Not that Atem was much better. Seto wondered how his two most intense rivals were also the shortest guys he’d ever met. Even worse is how both of them seemed so much more relaxed at this event then should be legally allowed. The other thing was that Mutou didn’t seem to care about the people were that were here. Mutou’s hand was in Jonouchi’s openly without any concern what people might think. On top of that, Jonouchi was wearing the cheapest suit Seto had have ever seen. Mutou really didn’t seem to have much in the terms of standards. “Not all of us think the world is against us, Kaiba,” Mutou said and while his glare might’ve said he was angry, his words were said softer than Seto would’ve expected. “Fine, if you have no objections then I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”
It was at this point that Seto realized that perhaps he absolutely should have agreed with Mutou and avoided playing this game. He realized too late as he caught a glimpse of Atem’s stare that Atem must realize the opportunity that had fallen into his lap. “Excellent,” Anzu said as she motioned them towards a table and Seto sat down with the group he never thought he’d hang out with. “Let’s see... so the rules are simple. You pick either truth or dare, then you either answer the question or do the dare. You can reset once, no questions asked. However, if you try to reset again, you gotta take a drink. Makes sense, yeah?”
“Ah, classic college rules,” Jonouchi said with a grin, his arm loosely thrown around Yugi’s shoulder. Did they ever do anything apart, Seto wondered vaguely. Part of him was actually sort of jealous with how easy being open about their relationship came to Jonouchi and Mutou. Mutou never once seemed to care that people might judge him for his sexuality and deflected any rude comments with ease. Jonouchi, for his part, never had any shame to begin with. He supposed that was part of Jonouchi’s appeal to a mainstream audience. Though once again, he couldn’t help but privately think how Jonouchi and Mutou didn’t make sense as a couple. Perhaps he was a touch jealous of Mutou’s ease with himself. Neither Atem nor Mutou seemed to take themselves seriously. “I’m game. Granted, kinda hard to get smashed on champagne.”
“The point isn’t to get smashed,” Mutou protested as he grabbed a glass from the center of the table for himself. “The point is to get to know each other better.”
“Think I know you pretty well already, Yug,” Jonouchi teased as he slammed down one of the champagne flutes before grabbing two more and handing the second over to Atem. “Besides, ain’t fun if there isn’t a little bit of a risk of getting totally drunk off our asses at this boring party.”
Anzu grinned as she grabbed two champagne glasses, handing one to Seto. “Then it’s settled,” she said. “I think Seto should go first. Pick someone.”
This was a rare opportunity put into his lap. Seto could ask anything of either of his rivals, couldn’t he? Or dare them to do something stupid that would embarrass them. Either way, he knew he should seize this chance. Which is why he had no idea why he said, “Fine. Anzu. Truth or dare?”
Seto couldn’t exact read Anzu very well most times but he could’ve sworn she was glaring at him this time. In fact, he felt like it took her longer than usual before she finally spat out, “Truth.”
“Oh, you always pick truth,” Mutou complained, leaning back in his chair. “Are you never gonna live a little, Anzu?”
She glared at Mutou. “I live plenty, Yugi,” she said as she stretched in her chair. “Besides, we all know Seto could never come up with a dare interesting enough to do.”
“I resent that,” Seto objected, even though she might have had a point. He had no idea what he would’ve done if she’d picked dare. But he did have a question for her. “Why did you pick this dumb game for us to play, anyway?” She used her reset immediately, just a little quickly for Seto’s liking. However... the rules, he reminded himself. He couldn’t question her on why she’d reset. “Fine, I’ll ask something else. Why did you decide to become a dancer?”
“Ah,” she said with a light smile. “I’ve always liked dancing. It’s the one time where everything comes easy and natural to me. I don’t have to overthink it. It’s relaxing. In all honesty, I’d probably still be dancing even if I wasn’t getting paid to do so. Getting to do it for a living is just a bonus.”
Mutou seemed to be mulling over this. It suddenly occurred to Seto that he had no idea how Mutou felt about being the head of a video game company. All Seto really knew about Mutou is that he liked games in high school, was a champion in some video game tournaments, and that Mutou was dating Jonouchi. He didn’t even know what had led to Atem being friends with Mutou in the first place. Then again, Seto didn’t know a lot about the people at this table. “So doing something you love for a living hasn’t bred any resentment towards it,” Mutou asked. “Sorry, wait, it’s not my turn, is it?”
“No, it’s okay,” Anzu said, a shift in tone that Seto could not pin down. For a brief moment, Seto wondered if Anzu and Mutou had had this conversation before. “Sometimes it’s frustrating that there’s no line between doing something for fun and doing something for work. It can definitely feel a bit like I’m always on the clock but that’s where you guys come in. With you guys around, it feels like I can take a breather from being consumed by this one thing. Not only that, you guys kinda force me to focus on something else for a bit. Which helps keep it feeling like it’s consuming me.”
“I’m guessing this is straight from your ‘get new hobbies’ speech you gave Yugi last week,” Jonouchi asked with a light teasing grin before nudging Mutou. “See? I’m not the only one who thinks you should take more breaks from work.”
For a moment, Seto considered what Mutou’s friends were telling him. It was absolute insanity, as far as he was concerned. The idea of setting aside work for some inane hobbies was not just foreign to Seto – it was absolutely absurd. It almost reminded him of how Mokuba occasionally remarked that Seto should try working less. He’d almost always respond with “and let Mutou get the edge over me” and Mokuba would always roll his eyes in response. Surely this conversation must be staged, Seto reasoned. This had to be some sort of scheme on Mutou’s part to get Seto to lower his guard. Well, it won’t work. “Alright, it’s my turn,” Anzu declared, seeing to look a little more mischievous than usual. “Atem! Truth or dare?”
Atem glanced over at Seto briefly with a light smirk on his face. It bothered Seto how at ease Atem could look even in the most awkward of situations. “Easy. Dare, cause I’m not a lil bitch,” Atem said with a wink at Seto. Seto flushed furiously and wondered if someone had turned up the heater.
“Okay,” she said as she leaned forward as if she was sharing a secret with the table. “I dare you to kiss someone at this table.”
Seto swore the entire room fell silent. All he could hear was a buzzing sound in his ears. Unless Atem was willing to kiss someone who was taken, the only single person at this table was him. And the way Atem glanced over at Seto, it seemed Atem was aware of this fact himself. “Alright,” Atem said, getting up and moving in closer. He was much too close now. Seto could smell the body soap Atem must use mixed with... some sort of floral scent? The next thing Seto knew, Atem’s lips were pressed to his in the gentlest kiss. Seto didn’t know that a kiss could feel this nice. And when Atem parted, he wore a smirk on his face and Seto’s mind was fried. He vaguely wondered if this was a joke on Atem’s part. Why didn’t he reset? “Right. My turn.”
Atem had returned to his seat and Seto felt the flush across his cheek as he realized he didn’t want Atem to go back to his seat. He wanted Atem to get back here and kiss him again. He’d barely finished the thought when Atem’s bodyguard, Mahad, arrived at the table with a look of disapproval. “Young prince, I hope you aren’t getting yourself into trouble,” Mahad remarked as he wearily stared down Seto. Seto glared back. “You know your father would disapprove of these childish games.”
Seto was taken aback when Atem merely pulled a champagne glass from the center of the table and passed it to Mahad. “Ah, don’t be such a bummer,” Atem said cheerfully, encouraging Mahad to sit next to him. Mahad rolled his eyes as he sat down next Atem. “It’s not like dad cares to check social media much, anyway. Take a load off, play truth or dare with us. Promise dad won’t find out.”
Mahad sighed as he took the glass of champagne. “I better not have to carry your ass out of here, young prince,” Mahad warned. “Whose turn is it? Please tell me it’s not –“
“Mine,” Atem said gleefully as Mahad muttered off an ‘of course’ under his breath. “So, Mahad. Truth or dare?”
“Of course,” Mahad said but this time he was smiling. “Truth, young prince.”
“You’re always so boring,” Atem teased and Seto felt a surge of a strange urge to punch Mahad in the face. He knew it was absolutely irrational – Mahad absolutely could take Seto in a fight. Mahad was one of the few people taller than Seto and not only that, it was clear Mahad was strong. Still, Seto felt a deep seated hatred for Mahad out of nowhere. It passed as suddenly as it happened. “Alright, tell the truth: do you think I’m cool?”
To this, Mahad laughed. “Is that really the best you’ve got, young prince,” Mahad asked and Seto felt like a knife was twisting in his stomach for some odd reason. Mahad spoke fondly towards Atem and it made Seto’s hands clench. “Of course you’re cool. You’re the coolest guy I know. Right, does this mean it’s my turn now?”
“Yeah,” Mutou said. “So far Anzu, Atem, and Seto have all gone. So...”
Seto could barely pay attention the game anymore. He wasn’t sure how long it was until Atem excused himself from the table and Seto seized his chance. He got up shortly after Atem, excusing himself under the guise of needing to take a phone call. He followed Atem straight into the bathroom, where Atem was finishing up... going to the bathroom? Oh. Seto was determined to not look below Atem’s waist. He would not look below Atem’s waist. He didn’t need to. “What the fuck was kissing me about?”
Atem seemed startled and quickly zipped up his pants. He turned to glare at Seto before heading over to the sinks. “Anzu dared me to kiss someone at the table,” he replied as he eyed Seto in the mirror. Seto was slightly grateful for the distance the mirror provided as Atem’s dark eyes were intoxicating. “You’re single and cute and I thought why not.”
“That’s it?”
Atem shrugged. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said simply. “Why do you care?”
To this, Seto had no real answer at first. He didn’t even know if he did care, really. It was just... now he was staring at Atem’s lips. He caught himself quick enough, looking away from Atem. Suddenly there was too much pressure in this bathroom. Much like the main room, it was rather dim too. Just barely enough light to make out that Atem was still so golden. Everything about Atem was golden and that drove him crazy. He was the golden boy in the press no matter what he did. If Seto didn’t know better, he would think that Atem didn’t take anything seriously. Didn’t he? Seto had seen him during their many duels and not once did Atem seem to really care if he won or lost. “Do you even care,” Seto found himself asking without thinking about it.
Atem froze and the sound of water running was all that filled the room. Well, that wasn’t true. Seto could hear the music from the charity gala barely permeating the room and laughter from the dance floor. But none of that mattered. He had to know what Atem’s real goal had been in kissing him. It had to be to trip him up somehow, right? A calculated effort. It couldn’t be as simple as Atem was claiming. “Of course I care,” Atem said, frowning as he finished washing his hands and reached for a paper towel. “Kaiba, what was your reason for following me into the bathroom? Just to ask why I kissed you? Cause if you have an issue with it...”
“I don’t have an issue with it,” Seto said quickly. “Well... no, I definitely have an issue with you trying to trip me up. I don’t know what -”
He had the audacity to laugh. A loud, rambunctious laugh that made Seto feel small. How could one 5’6” man make him feel so goddamn intimidated? How did it feel like he filled the room despite everything working against him? Atem, of all people, should not have the capacity to make Seto feel small. “You thought I was...,” he trailed off, laughing still before shaking his head. “Do you really think that I need an edge over you competitively? What’s the track record again? Let’s see... oh yeah. I’ve won at least twenty times and you still have yet to get a win over me. I don’t need to trip you up to win, Kaiba.”
“Then what was that kiss about, Nasser? You really think that I’m going to believe that you just kissed me because... you think I’m... cute?” Seto eyed Atem. There was no way a man like that would look at Seto and pick him of all people. Atem might not be tall but he really didn’t need it. Between that sharply defined jawline, the intoxicating dark eyes that dare one to trip into the void, and that golden skin, there was nothing about Atem that wasn’t attractive. What did Seto have going for him? Height. That was about it. And even that worked against him since he often felt like a deer first learning to walk. “I’m not stupid, Nasser.”
“Sure seems like it,” Atem shot back. What was it that was in Atem’s eyes? He suddenly turned to face Seto, his hands gripping at the counter. And then Seto suddenly realized what it was: he’d seen it in Atem’s face when they were dueling. It was a challenge. The spark of a challenge that Seto had no answer for. He didn’t know what Atem was challenging him to and yet... he badly wanted to agree to the challenge. “You’re having a freak out over a kiss. Don’t tell me you’ve never been kissed before.”
Seto flushed instantly. Of course he’d been kissed before. Except... he’d never been kissed by a guy before. Turns out being kissed by a guy felt different than being kissed by a girl. It felt... right. But he wasn’t about to admit that in a dingey bathroom of all places. Atem was moving in closer, a brow raised. It was a challenge and Seto, for once, had no road map of how this should go. His heart leapt into his throat as he spat out, “Of course I’ve been kissed before, Nasser. The real question is have you ever kissed before? That was a garbage kiss.”
“Oh,” Atem said as he was much too close again and Seto’s back was pressed against the door. The click of the lock hit Seto’s ears as Atem’s hand reached to grip at his collar. “Then let me try again.”
Atem pulled Seto down towards him and Seto felt flushed all over as Atem’s lips easily parted his own. For once, he understood what it meant to feel sparks when one was kissed. It felt like an electric current was running through him and all he could focus on was how intense Atem was. He was getting caught up in the moment that he’d forgotten about the party just on the other side of the door. All the mattered was Atem and all that mattered was that Atem kept kissing him. He was surprised, however, as Atem shoved off Seto’s jacket. “Wait,” Seto said, pulling away out of breath. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you,” Atem said as he pressed a quick kiss to Seto’s jaw and Seto’s mind was filled with static. “And taking your clothes off. What do you think I’m doing?”
Taking... Seto needed a minute to process that as Atem tossed Seto’s jacket aside, undoing the buttons on his shirt. “This is... this is a little quick,” Seto stammered, not wanting to admit that he’s never done this before. To his great relief, Atem stopped undoing his shirt but unfortunately he also stopped kissing his neck. “I mean... I don’t want to stop kissing. I... I don’t think I want to stop doing that.”
“Alright,” Atem said with a slight smirk as his hips pressed up against Seto’s and Atem pressed another kiss to Seto’s lips. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
Whatever made him feel comfortable? That thought buzzed in his head. Was he even comfortable now? Part of him wished he was drunker. Then he could write this all off as something he’d done just because he had a few drinks. Except he wasn’t. The only thing that was causing him to feel this featherlight was Atem kissing him. Atem’s hands in his hair. Atem pressing his entire body against his. He could feel exactly how toned Atem was. He’d know Atem was athletic but it never clicked how it would shape Atem’s physique. Seto couldn’t help himself as his hands went under Atem’s jacket and suddenly he was so grateful that Atem had foregone a shirt. He got to feel Atem’s abs and his hands slipped behind to feel Atem’s firm back muscles rippling under his skin. Seto would almost describe it as sinful if he still was Catholic.
In fact, at this point, Seto knew everything he was told when he was Catholic had to be wrong. He could almost believe Atem himself was a god and Seto would be damned if he didn’t worship him. Seto’s knees buckled at the thought as Atem’s mouth was at his neck. Suddenly he just wanted Atem’s clothes off and he started pulling Atem’s jacket off. “Mhm, so I can’t take your clothes off but you can take mine off,” Atem hummed as his hands grabbed at Seto’s ass and Seto jumped slightly at the feeling as Atem nuzzled into his neck. Seto soothed himself by focusing on just how strong Atem’s were and wondered vaguely if Atem could lift him up. “Now that just doesn’t seem fair to me...”
“Seems perfectly fair to me,” Seto retorted. “Besides... you’re the one who came here not wearing a shirt. Any reason for that?”
“Cause I’m sexy,” Atem replied with a grin and Seto almost hated him for it. Almost. The worst part of his simple statement is that he was right. Seto couldn’t possibly argue in any way that Atem was not an attractive man. “Gonna disagree with me?”
“Absolutely not,” Seto admitted just a little too quickly and he flushed as he realized how quickly he’d said that. Though he supposed at this point, there was little room for shame. “So you can see why I’d like for your clothes to be off.”
“But you won’t do the same,” Atem asked with a raised brow.
“I don’t see what that has to do with it.”
Atem chuckled and shook his head. “You’re something else, Kaiba,” he said as he pulled away to shrug his jacket full off and carefully set it aside on the sink counter near them. “But if you’d liked me undressed,” he said as he carefully kicked off his shoes and started undoing his belt, “then I’m more than willing to indulge you.”
The more clothes Atem stripped away, the more Seto lost the ability to focus on anything else. The fact is that Atem was clearly well built from hiking and soccer and whatever else Atem happened to do outside of playing card games with him. And the next thing Seto knew, he was falling to his knees right in front of Atem. He wondered if it would feel like heaven. Atem’s hands went straight into Seto’s hair. All he could focus on in this moment was Atem specifically that he barely noticed Atem’s gold body glitter had rubbed off on his suit during their heated make out. And he barely noticed that they’d been absent from the party for quite a while now.
Everything just seemed to fall right into place, really. This is where he was supposed to be – here, with Atem, with no one else around. In fact, Seto barely could remember the party at all.
#prideshipping fanfic#prideshipping#prideshipping fanfiction#ygo fanfiction#ygo fanfic#ygo duel monsters fanfic#myfanfic
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Newsies! Fic Recs
Because there’s some real good stuff out there, and it deserves some love.
ships represented on this list: javid, jackcrutchie, jatherine, newsbians, sprace, ralbert, spavey, billdarcy.
First, my top five newsies fics, which was really hard to narrow down.
their mistake is they got old by PenzyRome / @penzyroamin
holy crap, you guys, this one is breathtakingly beautiful and poetic. Davey and Katherine have a marriage of convenience because they’re both gay, and the story goes from there and it’s amazing. Awe-inspiring. If I ever stop gushing about this fic, I’m probably dead. Javid & Newsbians, One-shot, T.
Let’s See Where This Leads by shipNslash
Out with gays hiding relationship for angst, in with hiding for humor! This is genuinely one of the sweetest and funniest fics I’ve ever read. The characterization is spot-on, and I especially love the Jacobs family. Javid, Newsbians, Sprace, One-shot, T.
The End Page is Where you Write in the Rest by anglophileprussian
After I read this one, I kept thinking about it, which is proof of a good fic. Told sort of nonlinear, in little snippets. Jack Kelly’s flaws, as seen by those who love him. sortakinda javid, jatherine, and jackcrutchie, One-shot, unrated.
Stare Down the Odds, May they be in your Favor by ArtemisRayne
A Newsies hunger games au. I stayed up late reading this one. I cried. I reread it and cried again. It’s every bit as painful but also as wonderful as you’d expect it to be. The author is working on the whole series, and I’m sure they’ll all be as excellent as the first. (and if you’re worried about too many of our boys dying, don’t be.) Javid, 7/7 chapters, M.
Mountain Ridge Camp for Boys by timetogoslumming / @timetogoslumming
I love a good summer camp au, and this one combines the canon plot with a modern summer camp setting very nicely. Another one I’ve reread. Sometimes sweet, sometimes hilarious, sometimes a little angsty, and wholly enjoyable. Highly accurate depictions of summer camp life. There’s a sequel, which is also worth reading! Javid & Sprace, 22/22, T.
Putting the rest under a cut because holy crap this got long:
Javid
blue moon by illinoise / @livingchancy
I usually am not into kid fic but holy shit this one got me. Perfectly sweet and angsty by turns, and I guarantee Luna will steal your heart. One of the best and most accurately-written child characters I’ve ever read. Modern au, 16/16, T.
it all comes back to you by scarlettroses / @thefactsofthematter
Commonly referred to as “the cake fic,” Davey and Jack pretend to to be engaged to get free cake, and well...things just happen from there. Hilarious, perfect pining. Background Newsbians and Sprace. Modern au, 13/13, T.
if it’s small enough to carry, you can I can call it home by swimthewholeriogrande
A small look at Jack’s empty life, suddenly filled by Davey. Canon, poetic, so sweet it makes me tear up. One-shot, unrated.
Jatherine
there’s no business like show business by eponnia
Katherine is an actress trying to escape her father’s shadow; Jack is her costar. Funny and cute, delightfully entertaining. Modern au, One-shot, T.
Nothing Happens if you Just Give in by RealLifeKatherinePlumber
Jack goes missing after the strike, and Katherine does everything in her power to find him. Riveting with excellent background newsies being awesome. Canon, 19/19, T.
Scars by tupenny
Journalism student Katherine gets to know Jack by asking for the stories behind his scars. This one’s really good, y’all. College au, 15/15, T.
Heart on the Trigger by WritingToKeepMySanity
In a world where the strike never happened, Jack joins one of the most dangerous mobs in New York. His latest mission? Katherine. An angsty thriller. 13/13, T.
JackCrutchie
Your Orbit by Ailendolin / @ailendolin
Little bit of canon angst, centered around Jack’s absence with new friends (but really he’s planning a surprise.) I smile every time I read the ending. 3/3, T.
Kings of New York by mattygroves
In the future, Jack and Crutchie have an apartment, and Jack is having feelings. Starts Jatherine. Supportive mom Medda. An easy sort of falling in love. One-shot, G.
Falling For You by byrd_the_amazin / @muckcty-mucks
Every fic rec list needs a classic, classy, coffee shop au. Crutchie writes pick-up lines on Jack’s cup. One-shot, unrated.
turning night right into day (orphaned work)
Have some canon mutual pining, wrapped up in a sweet coming out fic. One-shot, G.
Sprace
The Beast of Brooklyn by ArtemisRayne
A beauty and the beast/mafia/magic au. There’s magic and high stakes and dancer Race and it’s really, really good. Another one I stayed up late for. Background Javid. Almost made it into my top 5! Modern au, 26/26, M.
Let it Ride by snark_sniper
Five times Spot kissed Race under the mistletoe, one time Race kissed Spot. Quiet pining is probably my favorite thing ever. Canon, one-shot, G.
Ralbert
On the subject of sea turtles by datetheplants
This is so soft. Race is a cinema student, Albert is biology. This is all quiet pining, and even the ending is quiet, too. Lots of love for this one, probably my favorite ralbert fic. One-shot, unrated.
Home by Ailendolin
Some Christmas angst for boys who care a lot. Albert’s home life is sad, but Race is a good, good friend. Canon, One-shot, T.
I like me better when I’m with you by buckydarling
Race is moving to Italy, and Albert doesn’t want him to go. This one hurts, but in a really good way. Don’t worry, it ends well. Modern au, One-shot, G.
everyone just wants to be in love by galaxygal
Albert and Race are dumbasses in love. This is the silly and adorable kind of mutual pining. Featuring adorable married!Javid and good bro Elmer. One-shot, E (and if smut is not your thing, it’s p minor and can be skipped).
Newsbians
Hearts as big as the world we inherit by PenzyRome
DO YOU WANT DIVERSE WLW? SIT DOWN, Y’ALL, BECAUSE PENZY WROTE SOME. Ok, I’m done yelling now. But seriously, well-written, cute, perfect amount of heartache. One-shot, G.
Slieght of Hand by illinoise
Sarah is a magician, Katherine falls for her immediately. Summer wlw, hilarious and sweet by turns. Background characters add beautifully to the atmosphere and plot. 12/12, T. Another contender for top 5!
the stars we steal from the night sky by Indigo_Penstrokes
Sarah is a musician with feelings, and she really loves Katherine. Touching and beautiful. Modern au, One-shot, G.
The Gal Pal Chronicles (Or: Hand-Holding and Pining for Dummies) by byrd_the_amazin
Sarah and Katherine fake date for an event to piss off her father. They are both the epitome of disaster oblivious lesbians pining and it’s FANTASTIC. One-shot, T.
Spavey
Paper boys by therudestflower
This one has me hooked. Davey ends up working a paper route with Spot in the 90s. Stayed up late to read it. Made me laugh out loud. Unique kind of storytelling through lists. 4/5, T.
(if it was) anyone but you by PenzyRome
Ah, Penzy delivers (again) some good, steady, relationship building. I think this was the fic that made me go, “ah, yes, this ship makes sense.” Canon, One-shot, T.
BillDarcy
how ‘bout a change of scene and now I’m learning what is true (that love will do what it does) by darcyreid
I couldn’t decide between these two. Both are really good, canon-era stories about Darcy falling in love with Bill and making their way in the world. Funny and heartfelt by turns. Both are one-shots rated T.
Prepress by GalaxyGazing
Darcy and Bill, before and during the strike. A little angsty, a lot sweet. One-shot, T.
And I won’t pass up a chance to plug my own shit:
Canon Jack-centric one shot, angsty future fic. Jatherine & Javid, One-shot, T.
Ralbert canon angst four-chap, M. (now linked!)
#Newsies#newsies fanfiction#newsies live#javid#jatherine#jackcrutchie#sprace#ralbert#newsbians#rec list#billdarcy#spavey
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For the reader asks: What do you wish more authors in your fandom would write about?, - What reader or write do you think most deserves a high five?, and Tell me a headcanon (and who you wish would write it)?
Ohh! Awesome! Just the questions I wanted to answer too! xD Thank you, you wonderful nonnie for sending me these!^^ I umm…I might get a bit long-winded here so bear with me….>.>
What do you wish more authors in your fandom would write about?
Oh dear…you just gave me free reign here to give you my fannish wish-list anon. Do you realize what you’ve done?!
Okay, no but, these are some of the ideas and characters I’ve most wanted to see more explored for such a long time now, so this might get a bit long as I’ve been thinking about some of these things for so long, so…let’s split this up by fandom:
Silmarillon/Tolkien:
More Tinfang please, definately! Probably my most obscure fav here,but he has so much potential? I mean, he’s this haf-fey pied-piper type figure and I just need like…all of the fic of him outwitting orcs and robin-hooding it up across Beleriand just basically ruining Morgoth’s day in his own small ways xD I love the idea of Tinfang being this folklorish figure amongst the elves, and I’d love to see more of that.
On that note: More Middle Earth Fairy Lore in general. Yeah I know most of this stuff is only half-canonical at best and pretty obscure, coming from the Book of Lost Tales, but still, it’s just fun? Again, I love the idea of elvish folklore, especially pre-Valarin folklore and I’d love to see more of it, and incorporating some of these older Lost Tales era ideas is such a great way to do it? Besides, the addition of fairies answers an age old question in Tolkien Fandom:
“…they were born before the world and are older than its oldest, and are not of it, but laugh at it much, for had they not somewhat to do with its making, so that it is for the most part a play for them…”
TELL ME THAT DOESN’T SOUND LIKE TOM BOMBADIL TO YOU!?! Case closed. Tom Bombadil is a Fairy.
Asside from Tinfang and Fairy lore, however, There are a couple of things I’d love to see more of in this fandom as well.
More Amlach would always be a blessing.I don’t really see why he is so often overlooked as a character either. Here’s this guy, he’s like, ‘Okay, I’m maybe not so cool with these Elves dragging us into this war of theirs that I certainly didn’t sign on for’ but then Morgoth comes along, and sends one of his servants to impersonate him while he’s away. Amlach finds out is all ‘What?! You stole my face?! Oh it’s personal, now…” and then goes to find Maedhros and becomes one of his vassals to fight against Morgoth. He has to be one of my favorite Men in the Legendarium, and I can’t help but picture his relationship with Maedhros to be just…so full of snark. He’s not awed by these elves after all, he’s just here because Morgoth’s an asshole. Honestly, I can’t help but feel that if Amlach feels like Maedhros is wrong about something he will speak up about it. And..Maedhros actually appreciates that? Amlach’s honesty, I mean, maybe not the snark all the time xD I just want to see more of that relationship, and it’s development, blossoming into some kind of respect and friendship between the two. Basically Amlach is awesome and I want more of him.
Finally, I’d love to see more Eönwë/Mairon stuff? This is my ship! The whole tragic lovers-to-enemies dynamic that they could have going? Those moments where Sauron came begging to Eönwë at the end of the War of Wrath and things almost, almost looked like things could have been reconciled, where everything stood on a knife-blade and a held breath? YES, I am here for that. And yeah, I’m a sucker for redemption fics, so I’m here for AU’s where Sauron actually did turn around and seek the Valar’s forgiveness as well.
Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell:
*slams fist on table* More JSMN Crossovers! I mean, the King’s Roads literally go everywhere, and I can’t be the only one who sees the potential there! You’ve got all of fiction and reality open to you! For instance:
Send Childermass off on the King’s Roads exploring Faerie and Looking for a way to read Vinculus, and have him stumble on into the DC Universe to run into John Constantine! They can be Snarky Northern Bastards together and deal with Fairies and Demons and Magic!
Have John Uskglass wander into Wizarding New York in 1926 and meet Credence Barebone! Can you imagine what that would be like? The Raven King meeting this orphan kid who grew up in pretty much the exact opposite situation to himself, In a world where magic is kept a secret, and who had to spend his life suppressing this magic he had? What would be going through John’s head in that moment? What would be going through Credence’s? Can the Raven King take Credence under his wing, get himself a new apprentice? He should. That would be really cool.
Oh, or what about Strange and Norrell while they’re trapped in the Pillar of Darkness? Send them to Valinor! Imagine the reactions of the Elves and the Valar at the approach of this huge Tower of Midnight. What New Sorcery of Morgoth’s is this? Is this the arrival of some new evil into their realm, like Ungoliant? Imagine this army of Elven warriors – the very same ones that Durring the War of Wrath fought to take down the source of all evil in Middle Earth – all lining up and preparing for battle…only to discover a pair of fondly squabbling academics
Or you know what? We don’t even need the King’s roads for crossovers! One of the things I’ve been most wanting to see in this fandom is a Sandman/JSMN crossover just…focusing on the relationship between Uskers and Morpheus? Like, I could totally see Oberon’s Favorite Foster Son as having encountered the Lord Shaper over here during his time in Faerie? And just, as a being of Faerie, as a Magician, as a Legend in and of himself, he totally has this connection to Dream? And honestly….why wouldn’t I want to see these two being Melodramatic and Goth and Awesome together? I’d really love to see how they’d interact. (Crossovers involving Daniel would *also* be amazing too of course and I’d really love to see John dealing with the feelings of knowing but not knowing Daniel, of interacting with someone who is at the same time so much older and so much younger than himself. How weird does it have to get to begin to stretch at even the Raven King’s own standards for what is “normal?”)
Other crossovers I’d like to see: John Segundus and Arthur Weasley hanging out because that would be just…the most adorable thing. And Also Henry Lascelles and Lucius Malfoy, because they just kind of deserve one another really xD
Asside from Crossovers I’d really love to read more things focusing on just the general history and world building in JSMN? I want to see like, the effects of magic on things like the Interregnum and the Restoration! I want to see what sort of History Play Shakespere wrote about John Uskglass and How opening night went! (You Know the Raven King showed up,watching from the shadows. You just know it.) I want to see Isaac Newton as a Magician, dammit! (speaking of that last one I got this lovely fic around Christmas Time about that very thing and I am eternally greatful for it, and y’all should go read it)
And honestly, more fics about the Aurate Magicians and John Uskglass would be amazing? I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I want an entire series of novels dedicated to the Aurate era of Magic. I want *all* of the medieval politics and drama. How does John Uskglass interact with say…Emperess Matilda or Henry V? How does magic change things and introduce new issues that have to be delt with? Also…the characters of this time period just *fascinate* me. Yeah, John Uskglass, but also Thomas of Dundale? William of Lanchester? Catherine of Winchester? Donata Torrel and Margaret Ford and their troop of women magicians? Thomas Godbless? Walter De Chepe? Lookit. I just need *all* of the stories about the Aurates.
Oh, and one more thing: No 80′s AU JSMN fandom? I am Dissapoint. I need John Uskglass hanging out in Le Phonographique as is only his natural habitat ;P
What reader or writer do you think most deserves a high five?
But there are so many awesome people in both my fandoms? I mean Just going off of the top of my head…
@jordenspuls and @somepallings just seem like all around really cool people and it’s always a delight to see their back-and-forth crossing my dash (even if most of the time I’m too much an awkward nerd to say anything myself) Not only that but they’re also really awesome writers and if you like Johnsquared you should definitely check out both of their work!^^
@ohveda is also super-cool and is also an awesome writer, especially– again – if you like Johnsquared. Also, it always makes me smile when I see a comment on one of my metas, because we’ve always had nice discussion in the past.
Of course I’ve gotta mention @regshoe here, for loving the Raven King as much I do, for always being an awesome person to talk to and for writing such amazing fic as well as comments in my own stories.
And on that same note, theseatheseatheopensea is another amazing writer in JSMN fandom (seriously, the writing is just georgous. Go read that Isaac Newton story.) and always leaves such lovely comments in my fic as well!^^
Finally, @thearrogantemu and @prackspoor have both written some of my favorite Silm fics.
Tell me a headcanon (and who you wish would write it)?
Okay, so for most of my headcanons and ideas I don’t actually have an ideal writer in mind for any of them. I’d just really love to see what would happen if anyone took them up and ran with them.
That said, because I cannot provide any actual writers for these headcanons, I will give three each from each fandom to make up for it 8D
The Silmarillion/Tolkien:
More Fairy Lore from Arda: Before encountering the Valar the elves would often leave out small offerings to appease the fairies and spirits of Middle-Earth. A few berries, a piece of meat from a good hunt, a dish of milk left out on the doorstep. After meeting Oromë and going to Valinor, the offerings became more craft-oriented and were said to be for the Valar, rather than the Fairies. Many – especially amongst the Vanyar – stopped leaving out offerings all together, seeing them as relics of the misunderstandings of the past, too pagan a tradition to continue with. MírielÞerindë, however did continue to leave out small scraps of brightly embroidered fabric as a tribute to Vairë whenever she began a new project. Fëanor continues on in this tradition, leaving a small wire spiral out on his workbench whenever he starts something new – not for the Valar or to keep the Fairies from interfering – but as a tribute to his mother.
Curufin is actually the best rider and horsemen amongst his brothers and taught Celebrimbor to ride
Arien and Sauron were actually really close before Sauron’s eventual betrayal. Being some of the few Fire-spirits who remained on the side of the valar gave them a particular bond, and Mairon was someone for Arien to turn to when the feelings of grief and betrayal that her brothers – The Balrogs – left her with grew to heavy. Well that was untill…
Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell:
Catherine of Winchester actually didn’t start out as a particularly impressive Magician. Actually, if anything, magic was fairly difficult for her at first. Where she was impressive was in her dedication to her craft, and her shear stubbornness in it’s pursuit was what actually impressed the Raven King enough to take her on as a student (this one is actually a fairly new headcanon for me, but there is something about the idea that I find so appealing…)
Thomas of Dundale is actually a huge nerd when it comes to Arthuriana and tales of Chivalry. He was actually kind of having a bit of a fanboy freakout when he first learned Chrétien de Troyes wrote a song about him. xD More seriously though, tales of Knights and Brave Deeds were what he grew up on before being stolen away to Faerie, and during late nights in the Brugh, when neither of them could sleep, Thomas would keep both himself and John entertained with the old stories his nurse used to tell him. Sometimes he even thinks of himself and John as a kind of reversed Arthur and Merlin.
William of Lanchester was actually one of the Raven King’s apprentices in his youth. That first week within John Uskglass’s company was one of the most frustrating experiences in William’s life, and by the end of it he well and truely hated John Uskglass and his particular manner of doing things. It was just so much the opposite to William’s own approach? He swallowed it down and pushed on anyway, because he did want to learn, but he ranted to Thomas (who he got on with brilliantly from the start) a lot about John during those early years of their relationship. Thomas helped him stick it out, Thomas gave him space to vent and honestly? Thomas helped smooth things over between William and John when they clashed the most. “He takes growing used to. But he’ll grow on you, if given a chance.” Thomas would say to him. William would just scoff. “Yes. Like a fungus.” Yet by the end of his apprenticeship, William found himself as one of the Raven King’s most trusted advisers and closest friends – and the thing that surprised William the most? When he realized it, he wasn’t surprised at all.
#Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell#Silmarillion#welp#that ended up longer than I thought xD#in which I talk to people#Anonymous
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@septicart-appreciation
Ta-da! Schneep in the style of my character Lulu! Happy Schneep Appreciation Week!
Sorry for the poor photo quality, I did this while sitting on my bathroom floor at 4 am and the light in there is really yellow. Like, piss yellow.
But look at how cute! I’m rather proud of it really, especially the little pen and reflex hammer in the pocket.
Also I wrote a short fic to go along with this, I’ll put it under the cut!
Schneep rubbed his eyes again. “How long must you take?” he mumbled to the coffee maker. It made a wheezing noise in response. He shuffled backwards, just in case.
The coffee maker didn’t explode, luckily. Schneep quickly snatched the pot, still not trusting the small machine, and poured himself a cup.
He yawned, making his eyes water. He reached into the fridge to grab some creamer, mixed it in, and downed the coffee in a few gulps. He left the creamer on the counter and went to go get his glasses from the lab.
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Snappers watched the alarm clock with intense focus. She was crouched right next to Marvin’s head, her tail repeatedly smacking the pillow. Three... two... one...
Exactly five minutes before the alarm was set to go off, she turned around and roared right in Marvin’s ear.
Marvin, without opening his eyes, reached up and gently closed her mouth. “Nooo, too early.”
The little dragon warmed her face up just enough to sting.
“Ow!” Marvin opened his eyes and jerked his hand away. It hadn’t actually hurt him, but he made a show of summoning an ice cube to put on it. “I have five more minutes!”
Snappers flew up and then landed on his chest with a small thud. Marvin sat up, and Snappers tumbled to his lap with a happy roar. He picked her up and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “Aww, what an adorable alarm. Even if it is a little off.”
Snappers rubbed her head against his cheek, and then moved to his shoulder.
“Alright, breakfast time! Oh, and that potion should be ready by now.” Marvin got out of bed and startled making his way to the kitchen. “I’m excited to see what it does, aren’t you? The book just said it was meant for ‘turning anything soft and sweet,’ so I’m thinking it turns food into marshmallows.
Snappers chirped. “I’ll take that as an agreement!”
Marvin opened the door to the kitchen, and froze. “Shit.”
He ran to the counter and picked up the creamer bottle. It was definitely lighter than last night. “Who would drink this? I wrote ‘Warning: Potion’ right there in Sharpie!”
Snappers used her tail to move his head. He found himself looking at the coffee maker, freshly used, and a certain doctor’s mug sat beside it, also freshly used.
“Oh, fuck.”
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Schneep groaned and opned his eyes. ‘The coffee did nothing. It betrayed me!’ was the first thing he thought.
The second one was, ‘When did my desk get so big?’
The third was, ‘Why am I so tiny and warm?’
He stood up. He was still in his chair, but even when he stood on his tiptoes he still could only barely see the top of his desk. He sighed and rubbed his face, stopped, and looked at his hands.
His round, fuzzy, bright-blue hands. If they could be called that anymore. He didn’t even have fingers or paws, just... and oval.
“MARVIN!”
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Marvin was already running to the lab when he heard the squeaky scream. “Shit shit shit-”
He burst through the lab door.
What looked like a bright blue teddy dear in a doctor’s outfit was standing on Schneep’s chair, screaming.
‘At least he’s not a marshmallow,’ Marvin thought. But there was no time for relief. “Schneep, are you okay?”
“Okay?!” His voice was squeaky, but oddly cute. He glared at Marvin, which was also oddly cute. “I am... I am... what am I?!”
“Not sure,” Marvin admitted, “But you’re kind of adorable. Like a stuffed animal.”
Schneep tried to cross his arms, but they were too short. Instead he held one of them up at Marvin. “You cannot tell but I am flipping you the angry birdy!”
“Okay, okay, just calm down. I can find a way to fix this... I think. Uh, Snappers, could you help him down?”
Snappers flew down from Marvin’s shoulder, wrapped her tail around Schneep’s plushie-like body, and brought him over to Marvin. The magician reached out and took Schneep, holding him at arm’s length. He was surprisingly light.
“Let’s go to my room,” Marvin said. He held Schneep against his chest like a child with a toy. Schneep shouted profanities at him, complaining about how humiliating the whole situation was.
“Look man, I’m really sorry! But what’s done is done so now we just have to deal!” Marvin said.
“Easy for you to say! YOU ARE NOT LIKE A CHILD’S TOY!”
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Marvin closed the book. Schneep was sat on his bed. Snappers had curled around the doctor protectively, which Marvin thought was insanely adorable, but Schneep insisted was not cute at all.
“So... good news, it’s not permanent.”
Schneep squinted as much as he could, which wasn’t much. “I do not trust that tone.”
“Well, uh, it lasts for about... a week.”
“A WEEK?!”
Marvin winced. “Sorry.”
Schneep sighed. “No, no, is not your fault. I forgot my glasses, I drank the spell.” He frowned deeply. “A whole week?”
“About a week. Could be less, but luckily it’s super unlikely that it would be any more.”
“Uhh... Marv?”
Marvin jumped in his seat. He turned to the door. Jackie stood in the doorway, staring at Schneep. He took a deep breath. “What... happened here?”
Silence.
And then Schneep piped up. “The coffee betrayed me.”
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Taglist: @victory-cookies @beerecordings @septic-dr-schneep @sadcat5555 @a-humble-narcissus @starlightxnightmare @kairomancerr
#Jacksepticeye#jacksepticeye egos#Doctor Schneeplestein#Henrik Schneeplestein#Henrik Von Schneeplestein#Marvin the Magnificent#Marvin the Magician#Snappers the dragon#Jacksepticeye fanart#jacksepticeye fanfiction#fanfic#my attempts at fanfic#fanart#my drawing
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When Reality Starts to Falter - Part 2
Summary: you get a call from your ex, Jared, to work a few scenes on the set of Supernatural as a hunter that takes a liking to Dean. The producers love the chemistry between you and Jensen, so they decide to give you a full time gig. Feelings for Jared come back in a flush, but over time, as your character falls for Dean, you find yourself falling for Jensen.
A/N: Posting this 2 hours early because I’m having SO much fun with this so far! Couple things I have to note before we continue:
When dating Jared, Y/N was an actress on a television show I ‘created’ specifically for this fic called Code Red, as a character named Pamela Banks.
Your characters name on Supernatural is Bell.
Italics are the Supernatural scenes, or YN’s thoughts - I hope it’s not too difficult to discern
A/N 2: Uhm, also...I don’t really know where the goofball!Misha thing came from, but I made myself laugh when I wrote it - so you get to be a victim to that, too.
Pairings: Ex!Jared X actress!Reader, Dean Winchester X hunter!reader (and single!Jensen X actress!reader in the future)
Warnings: swearing, supernatural themed violence/action, confusing!Jared (idk how else to put that-you’ll see), general angst, angst/snubbing from Jared, fluffy support from Jensen
Word Count: almost 1.8k
Part One
Master List
Opening the passenger door of the Impala, the breeze wraps itself around you in a cordial, tepid hug. You sweep your feet out and stand up, adjusting your outfit. It’s eerily dim. The sun’s reflection on the clouds is the only true light offered to you as you stare in horror at the people running from the fairground’s entrance.
A siren is blaring just loud enough that parents are covering the ears of their children. A strange feeling sits in your gut while you watch the police guide the families out into the parking lot. Sam coasts to your side and places your FBI badge into your hand, “you ready?”
His eyebrows raise as you look up at him, only mumbling a reply. “You’ve been pretty out of it the last few days and-”
“I’m fine, Sam,” you snarl. Forcing a foot in front of you, you pedal towards the entrance and push through the mob. With his height, it doesn’t take very long for Sam to catch up to you. The conversation between the two of you is choppy as you walk against the flow of traffic, and attempts at masking the siren’s screaming.
Since Dean left with Jody and Bobby to work a ‘small, quick’ case, Sam had been nipping at your heels, pleading for a case much like a dog holding a leash in it’s mouth and nuzzling at their owner.
Small, you think, recalling the story Dean had relayed to you about his last encounter with a Djinn. You bite the inside of your lip in worry, unable to take your mind off of him, hoping that he’s okay.
It’s been a few days since you heard anything and when you asked Sam about it he’d shrugged it off. Said something about how he’s a good hunter, and Jody and Bobby would never let anything happen to him. You shake away the thoughts.
As you get closer to a tent in the back of the circus, you see a man wearing a lousy cape and a top hat. You scoff at his wanna-be magician appearance. Initiating a stand-off, you fold your arms and halt to a stop. Sam, apparently not paying attention, slams into you. Grunting irritably, you lurch forward and catch your balance with one, agile step.
Immediately and aggressively, you confront the caped man. “Where is it?” you shout. “I know it was you. I had visions of it!”
Sam jerks his head in your direction, giving you a concerned glance. You ignore it, figuring you would now have to explain sooner rather than later, but press in on the suspect. The ‘magician’ laughs, taking a step forward.
Shrugging, he slows his drawl, “if you saw it then why don’t you tell us where it is?” he asks in the most cynical and creepy of tones.
“Freakin’ bastard,” you spit and lunge for him.
You don’t feel Sam’s hands on your arms, gripping firmly to hold you back, until you’re moving in place. You wiggle around in his clutch, “Sam! What the Hell are you doing?” The magician’s bouncing laugh riles a fury inside of you.
“Not. Here.” Sam whispers between clenched teeth into your ear. You elbow him in the stomach. He grunts out a wheezy breath, but doesn’t relent his grip.
“Let me go, damn it!” you cry, and only when the magician disappears does Sam let you out of his grasp. You fall to the ground, growling at him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the forensics team have pulled up a brown tarp.
Brushing off their confounded expressions you focus on the patch of packed dirt that was underneath it, with what look like five gopher holes. They are small and organized in a strange, zig-zag pattern. You tilt your head at them in confusion. A gasp escapes your throat, causing you to choke on your breath.
You leap up and grip onto Sam’s arm, ignoring his prior assault as a new obstacle comes to light. “I think these are decoys, Sam. Uh, think like model trains that replicate a real one. There are bombs, I think, scattered across town.”
You’re on the brink of hyperventilating, but suck in a deep breath. “I saw them in a dream last night. We have to figure out how this correlates and stop it!” You push off of Sam and begin running back to the entrance, yelling out, “call Dean!”
“Dream?” Sam questions. “Bell! Where are you going?” He cups his hands around his mouth as he calls out.
Without looking back, and not particularly bothered whether he hears you or not, you say, “to find Crowley.”
“And cut!” The director’s voice brings you back to reality. “Wonderful job, everyone. How about lunch?”
You hunch over, dropping your hands to your knees to catch your breath. Right. Lunch. Acting.
The reason you dropped out of the media wasn’t entirely because of your less than amicable break-up with Jared. In fact, that didn’t even make it onto the list. You had a ruinous habit of taking things on, getting too engrossed and becoming one with your character in the worst ways imaginable.
When you played a supporting role on Code Red, you completely flew off the handle when the main character, your best friend, died in the season finale. The entire crew, from the producers to hair and make up to your co-stars, applauded the authenticity of your characters reaction and threw a celebratory bash to commend and treasure your work.
Fans went crazy, you won awards. It was in the news, in the tabloids. You were named Actress of the Year by one of the most popular drama television series magazines. Your expeditious rise to the top of fame was torturous to say the least. Only your agent and Jared knew the truth. You had lost grip on reality. For a few sleepless and caffeine fueled days, you were no longer Y/N Y/L/N. You had, in your mind, really become and taken over the life of Pamela Banks; a wife, a mother, a faithful nurse and a woman who’d lost her best friend in a brutal accident.
You spent hours crying over your lines as you rehearsed them through the panic attacks. You pushed on. You fought against your instincts to ask the producer to just kill off your character instead. It wouldn’t have been the same that way, though, and you knew it. So alternatively, you played the part. You watched your best friend die in front of you, and it sent you spiraling into the worst spell of depression in your 26 years of life.
A hand pats on your back. You peek under your arm as Jensen lets out a sympathetic laugh, “you alright there, kiddo?”
Pulling your body back up, you laugh with him. “Yeah, just out of shape, I suppose.”
He wraps an arm around your shoulders, “you bring lunch today?”
You laugh, “yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking!” Catching Jared’s attention as you sway to the table under Jensen’s arm, his eyes squint slightly before a smile lights up his face. “I didn’t even think about lunch yesterday,” you look up at Jensen, giving an honest smile. “Thanks for sharin’ yours with a stranger.”
He pulls his arm away, but keeps a hand on your shoulder. “You’re not a stranger! It’s just been a while,” he winks, plopping down at the table with his sandwich and a bag of fruit.
Jared keeps a fixed stare on you as he sits across from Jensen. Only you would know that it’s a look of ire and ill-suited lust. You keep your eyes on him, omitting the rights to the muscles in your face. You don’t know what reaction you have to his expressions, you only know that he’s married and looking at you with vexation and a longing, desperation in his eyes.
You had never known him to be a complicated man, so why is he giving you the impression that he’s jealous of Jensen’s harmless embrace? He invited you here, and how he’s acting like he regrets it. Or worse, like his feelings have resurfaced as well.
Or did he call you to work on one of the most tormenting and grueling shows only to bring you back to that low point? Maybe it’s just in your mind. He couldn’t be that spiteful.
Or could he?
“You must be Y/N!” A voice proclaims as energetically as a puppy. “So glad to meet you. I’m Cas-” he cracks out a bellowing laughter, watching as Jensen and Jared roll their eyes. “Oops,” he says sarcastically, drawing a finger to his lip and looking back at you. “I almost name dropped my character, didn’t I? My bad,” he jokes, waving a hand dismissively before holding it out to you. “Nah, I’m just playin’. I’m Misha.”
You smile, shaking his hand and cutting in before he can continue, “Misha. Yes,” you chuckle. “Sorry I missed you yesterday, but it’s very nice to meet you.” Pulling your hand away you nod between the three of them, “I’ll see you all in an hour.”
Starting to turn and walk down the set, Jensen calls out your name. “Yes?” You flip around to see him standing now, twisting the top half of his body in your direction.
“You’re not gonna eat with us?”
“Not today,” you grin. “I thought I’d head to that, uh, new pizza place. It looked appetizing,” you flash an ear to ear smile, hoping to hide behind it while you spin your web of lies.
He pressures you, “you could get it to-go? I’m sure these lovely people here would like to get to know you better,” he waves his hand around the table at familiar, nodding and smiley faces. He shrugs in victory, looking back at you.
“Thanks, but I-” you fiddle with your elbow, blushing imperceptibly. Throwing your hand out to the side and propping it on your rip, you open your mouth to spew another lie about calling your ‘fiance’.
“I brought pie,” he offers, holding the container up. “In honor of Dean.” He smirks, “he’s going through a tough time, thought I’d get him his favorite. I can share-”
“Drop it, man. She said she’s going out. Let her,” Jared shoves a spoon full of soup into his mouth, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head at Jensen.
You furrow your brows, but smile weakly and turn away. Heat fills your cheeks as you briskly walk to the back door and out to your rental car. Flopping down in the seat, your phone vibrates against your side.
<3
If you would like to be tagged in any upcoming chapters let me know here! Have any feedback?
@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @fangirl490 @judewinchester123
Part Three
#jensen ackles#jared padalecki#jensen x reader#jensen ackles x y/n#jensen x you#jensen ackles x reader#jared x reader#jared x y/n#jared padalecki x reader#jared padelecki#dean x reader#supernatural x y/n#supernatural x you#reader x dean#dean winchester#female reader x dean#supernatural x reader#dean x female reader#supernatural#supernatural fandom#supernatural fan fic#supernatural series#sam supernatural#supernatural cast#spnfamily#spn#spn fanfic#spnfandom#spn family
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From now until November, we’ll be spotlighting one of our MHHE registered authors every week. Want to be featured? Just fill out this form!
MHHE Author Spotlight: NightjarPatronus
What piece of work best represents your writing style, and how would you briefly describe it?
I’ve been told my writing is very rich and vivid in terms of imagery. All-immersive. “In your face," to quote a friend. I also tend to veer towards psychological ways of characterization as I majored psychology in university. There’s usually a lot of introspection, and I also have a LOT of trouble sticking to just one point of view, so my chapters always alternate between different people’s perspectives. Also, my friends are no longer surprised by how much angst is in my fics.
All my works represent my style to a T, but my latest ongoing Magicians fix-it fic (titled “What’s Fixed Will Always Be Broken”, yes, like the song) exemplifies all of that.
Julia traced his collarbones with the paint in her hands. She shook her head when Penny tried to mutter an apology, every bit the psychic that he was. Penny shifted in his seat and pulled her close. The unforgiving wind had already taken a toll on her; her skin felt cold to the touch. She relaxed when he wrapped his arms around her to warm her up, and he smiled despite himself. The Beast might have been in his head, but he was the only one who could feel Julia’s heartbeat.
...Before the clock struck midnight that night, Penny had confessed he was scared. He’d admitted that it terrified him to realize how much he cared, that maybe he wasn’t ready, and perhaps she shouldn’t wait around for him to get his shit together. Julia had kissed him as the rope fell from his wrists. She had told him that love takes his time, and promised she’d be around when his time comes.
It would be the one promise she had to break.
What piece of work are you most proud of and why?
I wrote a 300k+ words monster fic for the Sense8 fandom while I was finishing my last year at university and actually managed to complete it before the special aired in June of 2018. It’s titled “Veracity”. It’s my first fan-fiction that I’ve EVER WRITTEN, and even though I’d done two multi-chapter stories in the past, they were nowhere near the length of this one! (The longest was 75k.) I had 23 OCs on top of the many canon characters featured in the show. It was astonishing just to see how far I could go and how fast I could manage it all, and I made some friends for life through writing this fic! Plus, it was super well-received, so I had a positive experience interacting with the readers :)
The old Felix would have jumped at the chance to flirt with Mariana. He would have claimed he was a genius at salsa; honestly, he was just out of practice. And Felix would try to bait her with his moves and get her to talk about herself as he gawked and pretended to listen. Now and then he'd throw in something completely made-up from his own life, like that time he and his friend Wolfie took down four bouncers and stole a motorcycle and rode to the fucking Berlin Wall with five police cars chasing them down, then managed to get away by stowing away underneath an Erdinger delivery truck.
But instead of wanting to say something funny the moment Mariana showed interest, Felix found himself wishing he was dancing with someone else.
"I'm preparing this dance for someone special," he said instead, meeting her eyes.
Dark brown eyes, accentuated by black eyeliner and a dash of gold. Brown like Dani’s.
But not like Dani's, because if he'd seen Dani's eyes again, he didn't think he would have been able to look away. With Mariana, he could. He looked at his new golden shoes and admired the way the metallic leather caught the warm glow of the ceiling light.
Mariana stopped dancing. "She's a lucky woman.”
"No." Felix let go of her and shook his head, loosening his tie. "I'm the lucky one."
What tropes can we look forward to in your MHHE fic?
Found Family. Enemies to Friends to Lovers. Slow Burn. High School. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Traumatic Backstories. Bed Sharing. (“Oh no, there’s ONLY ONE BED!”)
Fuck, Marry, Kiss (under the mistletoe) with three Magicians characters of your choice!
Disclaimer: I’m as asexual as it gets, y’all.
Fuck - Marina.
Marry - Fen.
Kiss - Margo.
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the one where Trucy accidentally finds out
a fic I wrote start to finish today, based on this conversation yesterday and two very great comments from @anza-redstar and @runningwolf62
--
It’s ten years, to the day, April 19, when Daddy and Uncle Miles come into the office with a box so big that Trucy has no idea how it fit into Uncle Miles’ sports car. “What is that?” she asks, tucking the book she was reading back onto the shelf so it doesn’t get lost in the mess, and scampering over to look at the box. “A new microwave?”
“No such luck, kiddo,” Daddy says. “We’re using this one until it explodes.”
Uncle Miles glowers, like he expects that the office microwave will indeed someday explode. (It’s not as old as Trucy, but it’s older than her time with Daddy. It’s older than his friendship with Aunt Maya. So is Charley. So are most of the things in the office that aren’t related to magic.) Then he fidgets, awkwardly -- Uncle Miles is a very awkward man, and when he isn’t in a courtroom or on a crime scene, most of his movements are awkward -- and holds his arm like it hurts, because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable enough to realize that he is being awkward. “These are items that the police held onto related to… to the case ten years ago. Your grandfather’s death.”
“Oh.”
“It’s mostly papers,” Uncle Miles continues, still awkward, and Trucy does him the favor of looking away from him and prying open the box. Whoever taped the top wasn’t trying very hard. “Anything the police hoped could help enlighten them on the case. Personally, I think it was unnecessary for them to seize all of this, but I was not on the case. I saw your parents’ wedding certificate, in there, for instance.”
“I wonder if this is where your birth certificate went,” Daddy says. “I had to pay a lot for a copy.”
Uncle Miles rolls his eyes. He almost smiles. Then the moment is gone and he is frowning. “Usually this wouldn’t be released for another five years -- the statute of limitations is fifteen years -- but considering that this case is… sort of solved, as best as it will ever be, I pulled a few strings.”
“Thanks for that, Edgeworth.”
There are two more smaller boxes inside the large box. Other papers are piled up haphazardly. It would give Uncle Miles a headache if he tried to sort through it for very long. At the top of the piles there is a small book that Trucy picks up and flips through. It’s handwritten -- a diary -- her grandfather’s handwriting, she recognizes from his book of tricks, the one that he left her father and he left her. She reads a page. Mundane, daily things. She’s glad for that. Life with the whole Troupe is fading from her memory, no matter how she tries to hold onto it. Maybe this will help refresh her memory. She flips through the pages and watches the words go by, until abruptly, the pages are blank. She runs her finger down the torn margin of a page. Something was ripped out, what might have been the last page.
She sets it aside. Daddy looks at it and his eyes widen. He looks a little sick.
“I don’t envy you having to decide what to keep,” Uncle Miles says. “Especially since you’re almost well-known enough to have cases, now.”
“Oh, come on.” Daddy shoves Uncle Miles in the shoulder. “One of these days, you’ve got to stop heckling me like I’m a newbie.”
“Hardly,” Uncle Miles says.
“Once I’ve had my badge again for as long as I did the first time, then you’ll be sorry.”
Trucy leaves them to argue and starts to shove the box out of the way. There’s almost a path clear enough on the floor for her to follow, and there’s space behind Polly’s desk for the box to sit. She picks up a stack of papers at random and plops them on the desk. There’s enough space on his desk and his chair for her to remove most of the loose papers from the box and get down to the other two, and a few folders. The first folder looks like insurance stuff. She gets up and walks over to Daddy’s desk and sets it down there. Hopefully it won’t disappear forever.
The smaller boxes look like they hold loose, non-paper memorabilia. Those will probably be the most fun to look through and so Trucy closes them and grabs some papers. She will save those as a treat for the end.
-
“Is that for a case?” Athena asks, absolute horror frozen on her face, stopped dead on the threshold. She would probably turn and sprint back through the office and out if Daddy weren’t standing right behind her.
He puts a hand on her shoulder to move her forward and aside. “Yep!” he says, cheerily.
Athena’s eyes are wide and she does not blink. She has not blinked for fifteen seconds. “You… you can take this one, Boss,” she says. “I’ve got, uh, another client, definitely -- Trucy looks like she’s got that covered as your co-counsel--”
“Athena. I’m kidding.”
The look she gives him, and then Trucy, is one of pure betrayal.
“It was from a case, a long time ago.” Daddy glances at Trucy, trying to gauge how much she’s okay with Athena knowing. Trucy shrugs. She likes Athena. She doesn’t care if Athena knows. She knows everything about Athena anyway. “When Trucy’s grandfather died, and when I adopted her.”
Died, not was killed, and while the latter is implied by it becoming a trial and a spectacle, Trucy always said died too because she never believed that either her father or Uncle Valant could ever have killed Grandfather. In her heart she knew that. And Daddy told her that was true, that Uncle Valant told him that was true.
Athena tilts her head. She must hear something. Trucy always knows if Daddy is lying but beyond that he is hard to read and that’s why he’s so good at poker. Athena has a better time figuring out what he is feeling. Sometimes Trucy asks her. “You had me scared for a minute there, Boss,” Athena says.
Trucy turns back to her papers, Athena sits down at her desk, and they both work in silence for a little while. Athena isn’t good at sitting still and eventually she is up on her feet, bouncing around the room to burn off some extra energy. “Anything interesting?” she asks.
“I’m looking at the boring stuff first,” Trucy replies. It isn’t boring, actually, not in her opinion. She’s a magician and a businesswoman and she knows now where she got it, her grandfather’s meticulous financial record-keeping. Maybe the police kept it because they thought he owed money to someone and that was why he was shot. There could be lots of reasons.
“Huh.” Athena stoops to examine the inside of the box and reaches in to poke at something. “Oh, boxes within boxes. Fun. That’s -- hey, who’s this?”
Trucy looks up. Athena is holding a small and rectangular page, a photo, examining it curiously. She must have pulled it out of one of the other boxes; Trucy doesn’t remember anything left lying in the bottom. “Let me see,” she says, extending a hand.
She knows the woman in the picture not by memory, but by the old Troupe memorabilia that she keeps carefully framed up on her walls, because she didn’t have photos her family together -- maybe this is where they all went -- and that was the best thing she had to remember all of them at once, Grandfather and Mommy and Daddy and Uncle Valant, because one was gone and then the other three were in quick succession. Athena should probably recognize her as well. She’s seen the old posters. “That’s my mom,” Trucy says.
Thalassa looks young, really young. How old was she when she had Trucy? How old was she when she disappeared? (Not died, because Trucy knows that disappeared can be a euphemism to shelter a little girl, but she also knows otherwise in her heart the way she knew that neither her father nor Uncle Valant killer her grandfather, and the way she knew that her father was only disappeared, not dead, until he was.) In the photo, she is more relaxed, posed naturally, than the posters, without any of the magician’s trappings. She has a smile like the sun, as bright as the bangle bracelets she has.
“Oh,” Athena says. Moms are a fraught subject for so many of them, Trucy (disappeared), Athena (dead), Apollo (gone), Pearl (jailed), Maya (dead).
“I don’t really remember her,” Trucy says. She turns the photo over in her hands looking for a date and finds the back is blank. “She’s been gone most of my life.” She avoids dead again, the way Daddy avoided was killed about her grandfather. “She was a magician. The brooch I have was hers. Blue was her color, too.”
“Oh, really?” Athena sits on the floor. She probably wanted an excuse not to do work and now she has one. “I thought it was blue like Mr Wright.”
“It’s blue for both of them,” Trucy says, because she can’t parse out what came first, looking again at the promotional material with her mother’s face or at the dusty suits in her new daddy’s closet. “You know, it’s funny, now. I’ve lived with Daddy longer than I ever did with my other daddy and the Troupe.”
She’s eighteen. It’s been a full decade. She grew up without any of the Gramaryes. It was why she was so excited to welcome Mr Reus to her performance, because she had dreamed of performing on stage with her family, and he was the closest thing left around. And then that went south, and she got Polly instead.
“Yeah,” Athena says softly, touching her earring. “It’ll be -- another year, year and a half, and then I’ll have lived half my life without my mother.” Her hand remains on her earring. “What was her name?”
“Thalassa.”
-
After a few days, bleary-eyed sorting through pages, more finances and ancient stage diagrams and bookings for performance venues that have been renamed and renovated, she sets the remaining stacks of papers aside and cracks open the box that Athena found the photo in. There are dozens of newspaper clippings of reviews of performances, some old TV Guides that mention the Troupe, and some more photos. There’s a few of the four of them, a few of five of them with Reus, and she quickly sets those aside beneath some papers to figure out what to do with. They’re valuable, important, but she can’t stand to look at his face, can’t stand to see him with them after what he did. She wonders why the police kept these, either -- maybe looking for other suspects. Maybe they just boxed up Magnifi’s life and didn’t bother to think about what might be important for his granddaughter to have.
She and Athena go out and buy frames for every picture of her family, her mother and her parents together and them and Uncle Valant and all of them, happy, smiling, and all of them and little baby Trucy. At the bottom there’s a photo of her mother and baby Trucy, but there’s a date written on the bottom and it’s years before Trucy was born. How did someone get the date so wrong? Was it thoughtlessly added later? There’s another picture of her mother, so young, so young, laughing with a man with brown hair and a guitar. Who is he? Another reject of the Troupe? Some friend outside of it? The Troupe was pretty insular, Trucy knows that much -- they had a lot of practice and performing to do. Of course it was always just them.
The two mysteries go in one of Apollo’s desk drawers.
The other box, at the top, has a certificate of marriage for Thalassa Gramarye and Shadi Enigmar. Trucy stares at it for a long, long time.
Beneath that, her birth certificate. She goes to wave it in her daddy’s face. “Look what was in there!” she announces.
He doesn’t look up. “A magic dove.”
“Daddy!”
He grins and takes the paper from her. “Now we’ve got an extra copy of it. Good to know.” His eyes travel over the mess on his desk. “As long as I don’t lose it here.”
Her grandfather has another diary, even older, some of the pen and pencil scratches starting to fade. She shelves that with the other one, intending to read them but not sure what she’ll find, almost afraid after Reus that there might be something dark in them. Or maybe she’ll learn for sure why he was kicked from the Troupe. What if it isn’t what she’s sure it was, that he didn’t have the attitude for it? What if it is like he thought? She doesn’t have the certainty that she does for other things.
When she comes back to the box, after standing in front of the shelves for a long time and then running off to Eldoon’s with Athena, she thinks for a moment that she for some reason put her parents’ marriage certificate back in. Why would she do that? She can’t afford to be absent-minded. She has a business to run. She has almost tossed it aside in annoyance when the name catches her eye.
It isn’t her father’s.
Her heart sits in her throat. Her mother was married before? No one ever said that. Is there anyone alive who knew that until Trucy found this? The name is Jove Justice. JJ. It’s a name Trucy has never heard before. There’s a wedding photo beneath it that looks like it was taken at a courthouse. The man in the photo is the brown-haired man. Her mother looks still so young. How young was she when she was married the first time? Would it be like if Athena got married now? If Trucy did? She hasn’t removed the photo from the box, just stared at it and stared, and beneath it she sees hints of another certificate, another birth certificate, probably, certainly, and she is ready to yell over to the next room where her daddy and Athena are working on a case, but first, she looks at it. She looks at the names.
That isn’t her father’s name either.
A sibling? An older sibling, going by the date on the marriage certificate, and she is afraid of what she will find next. A death certificate? That would explain why no one ever spoke of this, why she grew up with no one her age around her, why when all the adults were gone she was alone --
She looks at the names again, not just Thalassa Gramarye and Jove Justice, but the baby. Baby boy. Her brother. Baby, her older brother. Her brother --
She’s losing her mind. No, she lost it, completely, finally, and it’s been six months since she’s seen Apollo, she’s only seen him once since May when she was sure he would be a fixture in her life for the rest of it, when she was sure she would always have him around to tease and annoy, and it’s because she misses him that her mind is doing this, is putting that name there, and she touches the words printed on the certificate and wonders when her eyes will refocus and she will actually learn the name of the brother she lost, her half-brother, son of Thalassa Gramarye and Jove --
Jove --
Justice.
Not sure what else to do, not sure how to react -- how did Pearl react when she learned about Iris? She was young then and maybe it made more sense then, maybe this would have made more sense to Trucy when she was little -- she screams.
-
This is, to put it mildly, not the best idea when the two people she shares the office with are two twitchy people who have had loved ones murdered and are still paranoid or traumatized from it, two people who go together to crime scenes and see bodies and piece together murders and are doing that right now and are in the worst mind frame to hear screaming.
Her daddy’s face is bloodless, and Athena has her fists up, and they barrel into the room together and find Trucy sitting on the floor surrounded by loose papers and photos and boxes and holding one in her hands and screaming.
-
Athena does not have the time to parse out what exactly the emotions of the scream are, because that can wait until they are out of danger, so when she finds the danger is apparently the written word, she stops and listens. It isn’t pain, or fear -- there is no fear in Trucy’s scream. If she had Widget analyze this, they would be spinning out of control with shock, not fear. And no anger. Sadness, blue cold sorrow, and joy, too, something red and warm, butting up against each other and drowning together in shock.
“Trucy, what’s wrong?” Mr Wright asks, crouching down to her level. His voice holds pain, of a sympathetic sort, pain and sadness. It’s written on his face, too, plain enough that Athena doesn’t need Apollo to see it. (Mr Wright sort of can notice things like Apollo did, and Trucy a little better, but neither of them are like Apollo.)
“My -- my mom -- my brother my brother -- he’s my half-brother – he’s my brother!”
Mr Wright doesn’t ask. She can’t hear anything when he’s silent. Something Athena can’t name flits across his face.
“Trucy, you don’t have a brother,” Athena says gently, sitting down next to her, moving to put an arm around her shoulders, wondering what words written on a paper could turn bright, composed Trucy into a gibbering mess. Trucy pushes her away and shoves the paper she is holding at her instead.
“My brother!”
It’s a birth certificate, dated twenty-four years ago. Athena starts to read it off. “Born to Thalassa Gramarye” – that’s Trucy’s mother’s name, but this can’t be Trucy – “and Jove…”
Oh, god, she’s heard the name Jove before, and it was in Khura’in, and it was the story of a dead father and a lost child who was never returned to his mother–
“Jove Justice,” she says, her voice finally unsticking, and it trembles, and anyone without her ears could hear her shock. “And – Apollo Justice.”
That’s Apollo, that’s their Apollo, twenty-four years old and a father named Jove but that’s Trucy’s mother, their Trucy, Gramarye, and her mother, Thalassa.
“He’s my brother,” Trucy says softly. “Polly’s my brother – Polly’s my brother and that’s – that’s why – that’s--” She springs up, runs out of the room, comes back a moment later with a photo of her mother. “Bracelets!” she shouts. “Look, look, it’s like – like his!”
Golden bangle bracelets with a thin lined pattern encircling them. Athena’s head is spinning. She looks at Mr Wright, waiting for shock. Surprise. Anything. He has a good poker face but big surprises, he doesn’t quite hide. This, he’s hiding, and he’s still not saying anything, not moving, not reacting, and Athena can’t hear anything. Maybe Apollo could. Maybe Trucy could if she weren’t too torn up by her own shock to concentrate. Hers hasn’t faded; it still permeates her voice, entirely.
“Apollo’s your brother,” Athena says. “Apollo is – Mein Gott, Apollo’s your brother.” She laughs. She doesn’t know what to do but laugh. She looks back down at the names on the paper. They haven’t changed. “He’s not going to believe you when you tell him!”
“Can I see that?” Mr Wright asks, quietly, gesturing at the certificate. Athena hands it to him. “Thanks.” There’s only the barest amount of shock in his voice, buried deep, and there’s some other things, more complicated, a little too complicated for Widget. Some sadness that isn’t quite sad, not sorrow or grief, but something like regret. “Huh.”
He hands it back to her, and she runs for the scanner – it was a gift from Prosecutor Edgeworth that Mr Wright doesn’t know how to or want to use – so she can email proof to Apollo, while Trucy runs for a phone.
-
Apollo wakes to the buzzing of his cell phone beneath his head. It’s dark when he opens his eyes. What time is it, he wonders, knocking his phone to the floor with a thunk before he can manage to pick it up. Three am. Three am, and Trucy is calling. He fell asleep still fully dressed on top of the covers because he and Nahyuta were compiling their evidence for an overly complicated case until midnight, and when he went upstairs to the living quarters – after nearly a year, he still thinks of it as Dhurke’s, not his – and now, for whatever reason, he is being awoken by Trucy, who really should know what a time zone is at this point. “Hello? Trucy, what the hell--”
“Apollo you’re my brother!”
“Trucy, it’s three am.” Apollo sits up and regrets it. “I don’t know what conversations you’re having over there that – adopting people into your family -- but--”
“Apollo! I’m serious! Your mom is my mom! We’re half-siblings, Apollo!”
“What.” Maybe he’s still asleep. Does it really work to pinch yourself? Is that really a thing? “My – my mom--”
He doesn’t actually know what happened to his mother, just that Dhurke never found her. There are a thousand things that could mean in a country in turmoil.
“She’s my mom! Thalassa Gramarye! We’re siblings, Apollo!”
“Check your email!” That’s Athena’s voice, and some squeaks of a squabble. She probably ripped the phone from Trucy’s hands. “We sent you a copy of your birth certificate!”
“My – my birth certificate?” Apollo rolls onto his feet. There’s a little bit of moonlight spilling in through the windows. It had only recently, last year, occurred to him, after seeing Nahyuta again, that his birth certificate, all of his documentation, was forged. Dhurke didn’t even know his father’s first name. None of it could be real. He’s tried not to think about it since he came to Khura’in, about how he’s basically going to be immigrating back to his home country, the country of his birth, because his passport is built on a forged document, because all of it is, and he can’t in good conscience keep using it. He has a Khura’inese passport now. The birth date listed in it is still made up. “You’ve got to be kidding me with all of this -- if this is a joke -- it’s three am-- where’s my laptop?"
It’s downstairs. He isn’t good at taking these stairs in the dark. They’re slightly different heights halfway down.
“Apollo, we would not do this to you,” Athena says. He believes her. She was in the gallery last May as his family history was laid bare for everyone. She should know well what this means to him.
But then that means – and that’s stupid. Right?
He realizes too late that Nahyuta did not return to the palace and instead passed out at his kitchen table, and no matter how low Apollo keeps his voice, he has already woken his brother up. He remembers Nahyuta sleeping like a log when they were children, but there is so much about Nahyuta he remembers from when they were children that no longer applies, because even free of Ga’ran’s chains, the years apart, with the revolution, gave time for his brother to become someone else, someone who can personally help update prison security because he knows the best ways to break out of them, someone who can throw a knife almost as well as Datz. Someone who awakes at the slightest sound, because that might be the regime’s forces come to arrest them all.
Even if he lives in a palace now. Even if he rules the country now.
Apollo grabs his laptop off the couch. Nahyuta’s pale eyes are open. “What is going on?” he asks.
He lowers the phone from his mouth. “I have a sister.”
He says it automatically, even though he has no confirmation; he has only Trucy and Athena’s words at three am.
Nahyuta does not lift his head off his arms. Apollo can’t see his mouth but the skin around his eyes looks like he might be smiling. He definitely sounds like it. “I am glad you have finally accepted that you may call Rayfa such, but why at this time--”
“No, I mean, blood-related.” It can’t be -- she can’t be. But -- but this would be the cruelest joke to play -- and they wouldn’t. They aren’t like that. “A half-sister. My mother.”
Nahyuta raises his head.
“Apollo? You still there?”
He brings his laptop to the table, where Nahyuta has shifted aside crime scene photographs and copies of testimony to clear a space. He gestures at the lamp, giving Apollo enough time to brace himself for the light. “Okay, I’m checking my email now.” Sure enough, there is one from the main office email, with an attachment, and the subject line a keysmash. Either Athena or Trucy could have written that. “It’s loading… slowly…”
He helps Nahyuta reorganize their evidence while he waits. He wonders how long his brother was awake after Apollo went up at midnight. Maybe he wasn’t ever actually asleep. After about a minute, he returns, scanning what does indeed appear to be a birth certificate. And the names – Thalassa Gramarye, yes, Trucy’s mother – and – Jove Justice –
Apollo slumps down in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says. “There’s no way – there’s no fucking way--”
“We found it in a box of my grandfather’s things,” Trucy says, breathlessly, but she isn’t shouting like she was. “With my birth certificate, and my parents’ marriage documentation, and yours – it’s got to be real, Polly, it’s got to be! Your bracelet! Your power! Mine’s like it – like how I taught you what to do – it’s a Gramarye thing – the bracelet is our mother’s! There’s a picture of her – I’ll send that – Athena--”
There are more sounds of distant scrambling. Apollo stares at the screen. Apollo Justice. His name is there, Apollo, and Jove, and Thalassa Gramarye –
Nahyuta leans over his shoulder. “Your birth certificate?” he asks. Apollo pushes him away until his hair isn’t falling in his face. “Yes, your father, Jove Justice” – he’s reading it the other way, right to left, because that is how Khura’inese is written – “and Thalassa…”
“Yeah.” Apollo says. He doesn’t hear anything on the other side of the phone now. They probably dropped it.
“Gramarye,” Nahyuta says. “Gramarye, as in…” He presses his hands over his eyes.
Gramarye, as in the trial where they met for the first time in fifteen years. Gramarye, the trial where Nahyuta tried to get Trucy – Apollo’s sister, his sister – convicted of murder.
“Yeah,” Apollo says.
It’s quiet, nothing but the sound of the wind and the creak of the house settling. Or maybe a rat. Probably a rat.
“Now we know your real birthday,” Nahyuta says quietly. He sits on the table, still leaning over the screen to look at it, like he still can’t believe it either. “We’ll have to tell Datz.”
“Now we have proof that I’m an American citizen,” Apollo says. Now he has a sister. That’s hardest to believe. He said it earlier just fine, but now, with proof, with something real, something with those names, Gramarye and Justice, side by side, his tongue freezes. “And my mother’s name -- I have names for both of them. I have…”
A sister. A sister. He had his sister for two years and then he left to help his brother. When Phoenix told him about Magnifi’s death, that was the death of Apollo’s grandfather. And when he told him about Trucy’s mother being shot -- that was Apollo’s mother’s death, too.
His heart sinks. She’s dead. He can’t meet either of them. He saw the last moments of life of his father by blood; he reunited with his father who raised him in time for him to die; he found his mother to know that she already died without having to look for that information.
A faint noise arises from somewhere to his right and a few seconds later he realizes it’s voices through the phone. “Polly! Polly! Did you just abandon us? Apollo!”
“Sorry,” he says. “I was talking to Nahyuta.”
“Oooh, three am, you sounded so mad like I woke you up, and now you’re like, nah, I was hanging out with my brother instead.”
“We were working on a case, and you did wake me up--”
“Oh! If he’s your brother then is he also my brother?”
“Maybe? You’d have to ask him. He says that his sister is my sister, so I guess it would work backwards…”
Nahyuta is frowning. He probably can piece together what Trucy’s question was by Apollo’s answer, and his expression might either mean that he doesn’t want Trucy as his sister (unlikely) or that he is once again remembering how harsh he was in her trial and grappling with the fact that she is not only his brother’s dear friend, but now his own sister (much more likely).
“Does Mr Wright know this?”
“Yeah, he was around when I found the stuff. He hasn’t really said much. Maybe he’s trying to figure out whether he’s your dad or not, since he’s my dad and I’m your sister so you’re sort of, like -- maybe?”
Apollo wants to say that historically, being his father is something like a curse, but he wouldn’t say it to Trucy, who also has a dead father, or in front of Nahyuta, when that shared wound has not yet closed. (Apollo got the closest thing to closure. Nahyuta’s last conversation with him was while they stood as enemies in the detention center. Rayfa never knew him.) “Maybe,” Apollo says, and his mouth is dry.
A second email pops up, again from the office address. “Just sent you a picture!” Athena chimes in. Apollo can picture her leaning over Trucy’s shoulder to shout into the phone, the same way that Nahyuta is leaning over his shoulder to look at the laptop screen.
“It’s our mom!” Trucy adds. Our. Our mother. Apollo doesn’t know what to do with that phrase.
The picture that loads is of a woman with braided light brown hair, wearing a white dress. Her hands are visible in the image, and around her wrists, two golden bangle bracelets. Two bracelets just like one that sits on Apollo’s wrist. He tears his eyes from his mother’s face -- his mother, his mother -- and looks at Nahyuta, whose eyes are on Apollo’s bracelet as well. “Oh,” Apollo says. He tabs over to google for an old Troupe Gramarye poster, to compare the face of Magnifi’s daughter there, to the photo with the bracelets. Like he expects to see it’s a different person. Like he expects somewhere, this will fall apart, and it hasn’t. It doesn’t. Trucy is saying something and the words don’t make it from his ears to his brain.
“Trucy,” he says, and she falls silent. “Can you give me… like, an hour to process this, and then I’ll call you back?”
“O-okay.” She doesn’t sound happy. Apollo’s heart sinks further. He hopes she’ll understand that this isn’t anything against her.
“You know we have a trial in the morning,” Nahyuta says.
“Yeah, and our strategy from the start was already just ‘fuck it’.” Apollo uncovers the phone. Trucy and Athena both know that’s always their court strategy, but he doesn’t want them to rag on him some more. “All right. Talk to you in a bit, Trucy.”
“See ya, Polly.”
Apollo pushes the laptop away and rests his forehead on the table. “How can one family have so many secrets?”
“The Gramaryes?” Nahyuta asks. He knows the tangled web woven beneath the surface. He saw it in the trial. Apollo doesn’t know what additional else he knows, how much he researched -- knowing Nahyuta, back when Trucy was on trial, he looked up the transcript of the trial that’s ten years ago now, and the ones three years ago.
“The Gramaryes, and -- our family -- every family I’m a part of, murder and -- secret siblings and -- long-lost siblings, and -- more murder.” Even if Nahyuta read everything on-record, he wouldn’t know how Thalassa died. “I just wanted a normal life, I -- god, I couldn’t have been normal even if my father wasn’t killed, or even if Dhurke found my mother, if I grew up with her family I--”
“Would have been a magician, or a singer, perhaps,” Nahyuta said. “Could, perhaps, have grown up with your younger sister.”
Athena would be able to figure out what he is feeling when he says it, but Apollo doesn’t have much to go on. Nahyuta can keep his voice level too easily. Apollo can guess, though: sorrow, longing, regret.
“I wouldn’t be here now, though,” Apollo says. “Wouldn’t have known you, and Dhurke, and--”
Couldn’t have helped you. Couldn’t have saved you. Nahyuta glances away. He must be thinking the same.
“I wish Dhurke could’ve seen this, at least,” Apollo adds. “That sending me back would, eventually, let me find my family. And that--” He stops. Something has crawled its way back to the front of his memory, something that he blocked out that then disappeared behind more important things. “Oh, god.”
“What?”
He must sound horrified, because Nahyuta looks incredibly concerned. “Dhurke met Trucy, when he -- when he came over with Maya” -- if he phrases it like that it’s easier to not have to relive the moment the truth hit him -- “to get the Founder’s Orb, and -- god, he was like, ‘hey, son, nudge nudge, this girl would be good bride material’ -- eurgh.”
“Ugh.” Nahyuta puts his face in his hands. “Why did he have to be like--”
“Dhurke, why?”
It’s a question Apollo asked a lot -- it’s a question he still asks -- but it usually hurts more than this. Even if he does still sort of want to die.
“By the Holy Mother, there had better be an earthquake at the palace,” Nahyuta says, “from Father deservedly turning over in his tomb.” Nahyuta pauses. “Isn’t she seventeen?”
“Yeah.”
Nahyuta sighs. “Too young for that. And too young to be framed for murder.” He doesn’t say much about that trial, always gets a sick guilty look on his face whenever they skirt close to the topic. “Perhaps he meant she seemed a good kid and would be a welcome addition to our family, which is in itself a new sort of irony, that she already is, no marrying her off to one of us necessary.” He isn’t looking at Apollo, clearly pondering something else too. “You know,” he adds after a minute, “Mother was only nineteen when she had me. Ga’ran… used that against Dhurke, at the trial. She could claim that she was still young and naive and easily-duped, even though Dhurke was only twenty then. And twenty-two at the trial.” His eyes are vacant. “They were too young.”
Apollo hadn’t done the math on that. “She was only twenty-one when her sister tried to kill her.” When he was twenty-one, he was studying for the bar. When Nahyuta was twenty-one, he was already under Ga’ran’s thumb trying to protect his little sister. “I wonder how old my mother was. When she had me, and when -- when she lost her husband.” Too young to have lost so much, without question. “And when she died.”
Nahyuta doesn’t ask how Apollo knows that she’s dead. They sit in silence, looking at her picture. His mother. His half-sister. Sister.
“Apollo Gramarye,” he mutters. He shakes his head. “Doesn’t have quite the same ring.”
Nahyuta doesn’t respond, but after about a minute, he starts laughing. “What?” Apollo asks. Is he finally having the breakdown that probably, honestly, he probably needs to have? Is Apollo the one losing his mind? Did they both lose it?
“That damned murderer -- the magician, Retinz, Reus -- what karmic justice he faced.” Nahyuta shakes his head, still chuckling. “He was convinced that, though his plots were exposed, he had won against the Gramaryes, because he fooled Trucy and she needed you to save her. But you are a Gramarye by blood just as well as she. So he did, ultimately, lose to the Gramaryes.”
“Huh.” Apollo only vaguely remembers Reus saying that. He just remembers how relieved he was that Trucy was safe. He just remembers the sick feeling in his stomach listening to Nahyuta. His sister, and his brother. What a shitshow: the Gramaryes, the Khura’inese royals, and the two families together. “Man, what were the odds? That my law career would start like that, that I’d end up at the right place--”
“The Wright place.”
“It wasn’t a pun, Nahyuta, shut up. -- The place where I just… my sister’s there. I end up working for the man who adopted my sister. What are the odds?”
“I think the Holy Mother puts people where they need to be,” Nahyuta says. “You, to find them -- you, to find us again.”
“She was definitely putting me through some trials, there, at the start.”
“Perhaps this is another sign from Her.” Apollo shrugs when Nahyuta does not immediately elaborate on the thought. “That your sister has discovered this, now. It’s been nearly a year you have been in Khura’in, helping me, has it not? Perhaps this is a sign that you are due to return and spend time again with your other family.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe it is.
His sister.
“Once you finish your current docket of cases,” Nahyuta adds.
Apollo punches him in the shin.
-
Please leave your message after the tone, and I will return your call.
“Hey, Thalassa, it’s Phoenix. So, funny story about the kids…”
#lmk if you don't wanna be tagged but i wanted to give credit where credit is due#for a great concept and a few lines of dialogue that i've borrowed for this#ace attorney#anyway i have a reading to do for class tomorrow now i think#i started this at 9:30 this morning and then had class and lunch and then started writing again#and basically haven't stopped writing since#ace attorney bullshit tag#roddy fanfics#this was meant to be funny but also became partially a character study on trucy and apollo's fucked-up family lives
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Author Spotlight: greywash
Every week we are going to be interviewing a writer from The Magicians fandom. If you would like to be interviewed or you want to nominate a writer, get in touch via our ask box.
First things first, tell us a little about yourself.
Hi, I'm greywash! I usually go by Gins, I'm 37, I'm an engineer, and I live with my beta/writing and queerplatonic life partner HBBO (havingbeenbreathedout) in the cheap(er) seats outside San Francisco.
How long have you been writing for?
I apparently "wrote" and "illustrated" a story for my mom about a dragon who forgets his best friend's birthday when I was three, so. It's been a minute. I kill fewer crayons these days.
What inspired you to start writing for The Magicians?
Well... basically, I followed @longnationalnightmare in from another fandom, and a few people on my Tumblr dash were reblogging gifsets, so I originally watched the show basically just for more context. (The threeway. By "more context," I mean "the threeway.") Anyway, it took me about 0.3 episodes to be completely hooked: I had read the books a few years back and was ambivalent about a lot of things in them, so when I started watching the show I was expecting a lot less than I got? I'd expected a sort of silly B-show with lousy acting, and, I mean... it is frequently *very* silly, but then it turned out that the cast ranges from 'very good' to 'incredible', and the interpersonal dynamics are *fantastic*, and those are both pure fannish bait for me. The show's not perfect, but they fixed a lot of my problems with the books, a lot of which lived on a character development level... I think the show really has done some incredible work with Quentin, especially; and also with depictions of complex, liminally-sexual queer friendships, like the relationship between Margo and Eliot, which I feel like I've never encountered represented this well in any other visual media source, ever.
Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write? What it is about them that makes them your favourite?
Ooh, that's hard. Eliot is just my hands-down full-stop favorite character, but there's always that tricky question of "who is your favorite character to write *in the point of view of*" versus "who is your favorite character to write *about*," especially when you have a relationship or relationships you're really invested in (for me, the asymmetrical Quentin/Eliot/Margo triad). When I want to write stories that are love letters to Eliot Waugh, which is often, then I want to write from Quentin or Margo's point of view, because when I write Eliot's point of view, I am inevitably writing love letters to one or the both of them.
Do you have a preference for a particular season/point in time to write about?
Well, since I came into the fandom during the post-S3 hiatus—I started watching the show in October—just by default that's where most of my work is grounded, so far.
Are you working on anything right now? Care to give us an idea about it?
Oh boy, I sure am! I have a lot of work to do on my 39 Graves fic, and then I still have, hm, probably another... twenty or thirty thousand words, ish? On "The Marriage Plot," which is the sequel (...sort of) to "Firebird" and also my sort of... emotional raison d'fanfic, for The Magicians. It's sort of a, uhh... well, let's call it an un-arranged-marriage fic, is the best way I can think of to put it.
How long is your “to do list”?
Oh gosh. It's atrocious, but it's also not all for /The Magicians/. There's "The Marriage Plot," but I also have a long-running /Sherlock/ WIP that got toootally hijacked by me suddenly desperately needing to write hundreds of thousands of words about Eliot and Quentin not getting married, and so I'm just getting back into that; and then I have 39 Graves. I also still owe my partner a /Sneaky Pete/ storylet and have two other outstanding prompts from the summer, one for /Lewis/ and the other for... I.... totally don't remember! /The Good Place/, I think? I saved it around here somewhere. On top of that, I'm doing fan_flashworks bingo over on Dreamwidth, and I don't want my entire bingo card to be "The Magicians," though so far that's been somewhat difficult to resist. And I love the weekly prompt idea that the Rec Center and the Neitherlands Library are running for S4! I had a blast writing for the "Identity" prompt and am looking forward to this week's as well. Well, at least I write fast.
What is your favourite fic that you’ve written for The Magicians? Why?
I think I have to say "Firebird," because I haven't finished "The Marriage Plot," and who knows how that'll go; but they're so inextricably linked in my mind it's hard for me to think of "Firebird" as like—its own separate thing? I guess I can say that "Firebird" was really uncomfortable in places to write, so I'm proud of myself for getting it done without flinching away from all the, like, body horror and murder and super dubious consent; and I think it does what I want it to do. We'll see how I feel when I finish "The Marriage Plot."
Many writers have a fic that they are passionate about that doesn’t get the reception from the fandom that they hoped for. Do you have a fic you would like more people to read and appreciate?
Well, I definitely haven't been here long enough or written enough stuff to have that feeling, but—let's say "The Get Down," which is just a little bonbon about Margo and Eliot being best friends and banging a psychic. I love themmmmm~ ~ ~
What is your writing process like? Do you have any traditions or superstitions that you like to stick to when you’re writing?
I'm not particularly superstitious about writing, but I am hugely invested in my writing routine—I'm a write-every-day person, and I do mean 'every day'; I'm on a 2,179 day streak on 750words.com—that's a little shy of six years. People are usually horrified when I admit this, but: I get up at 5:15 in the morning seven days a week so that I can put on headphones and write for at least an hour and often more like two before work, or whatever it is that I'm doing that day. (I also go to bed at like.... eight forty-five. I am a party animal.) I also very frequently write on my lunch breaks and have the excellent fortune to live with my writing partner, so we spend loads of time writing on the weekends and talking about fiction. This is literally the life of my dreams, but you have to be a very specific kind of obsessive weirdo to feel that way, I think.
Do you write while the seasons are airing or do you prefer to wait for hiatus? How does the ongoing development of the canon influence and inspire your writing process?
I am too much of an egg in this fandom to have an answer to this one yet, I think. :) I probably wouldn't start a longfic during the season, but shortfic, sure, why not?
What has been the most challenging fic for you to write?
"Firebird," because of all the aforementioned body horror and murder and super dubious consent. I am a delicate flower, who happens to be fascinated with narrative about people confronting their personal monstrousness. It's a tough row to hoe, man.
Are there any themes or tropes that you like particularly like to explore in your writing?
For /The Magicians/, the particular dead horse that I love to flog is Fillorian marriage, and the implications that forced fidelity have for consent; and also just for how intimacy *works*, within a marriage or a long-term relationship where that sense of choice, of choosing and being chosen, is so much of what lends richness to the relationship.
Are there any writers that inspire your work? Fanfiction or otherwise?
Nonfannishly: Georgette Heyer, Sarah Waters, Herman Melville, Miranda July. Fannishly.... whoo boy. In /The Magicians/, I'm still catching up on all the great stuff that people have written! @longnationalnightmare , @adjovi , @achray , @shmazarov, @numinousnumbat , and @ohmarqueliot are some of my favorites so far... in other fandoms: gosh, where to even start, I've been in fandom for 20+ years, we could be here a while. I guess since we're on the subject (sort of) of the monstrous, I reread @1001cranes ' "disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage" the other day and was just as floored by it now as I was... gosh, was that really seven years ago? Well, it's evergreen, go read it again. @septembriseur for fiction about altered consciousness. @drawsaurus for the interplay between warmth and brittleness and humor and darkness. @helenish for her endings. @havingbeenbreathedout for the interplay between sex and story, and basically everything else as well.
What are you currently reading? Fanfiction or otherwise?
Right now, I have open on my laptop: (1) @astolat 's "And I Alone Have Escaped to Tell You [which I've read before], (2) @ohmarqueliot 's "Reaching in the Dark" [which I haven't started], and (3) what is, in context, the most ironic thing *ever*: a handbook on strategies for managing ADHD. What? Don't judge me.
What is the most valuable piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given?
Basically that learning to write is just figuring out how to ask yourself "What are you trying to do with this _______?" (comma, word, line, paragraph, chapter, story), and then figuring out how to answer. (Thanks, Dad!)
Are there any words or phrases you worry about over using in your work?
Oh, I mean—I'm pretty okay with even the totally predictable bits of my narrative voice, I don't stress about it too hard anymore, but yes, there are a bunch of words I *know* I overuse. Especially since I'm a little bit blind to repeated words if I'm reading and not listening to my work read aloud, which—I try to do at least one pass where I get my computer to read to me when I'm editing, but I need to have both time and focus to make that work, both of which, I find, are often in short supply. "Tells"—he tells her, she told him—is *the worst*; I'm always looking for it my brain just skips over completely, it's like it's not even a word for me anymore.
What was the first fanfic that you wrote? Do you still have access to it?
Oh dear. I'd been in fandom for several years before I started writing, but as I recall, the first thing I actually wrote was an exceptionally overwrought and tragic Snape POV Remus/Sirius story. I have no idea what happened to it and I'm almost certainly happiest that way.
Self-edit or Beta?
Both!
Comments or Kudos/Reblogs or Likes?
All are delicious.
Smut, Fluff or Angst?
Smut.
Quick & Dirty or Slow Burn?
Quick and dirty on the sex and slow burn on the feelings.
Favourite season?
Season Two
Favourite Episode?
Cheat Day
Favourite book?
The Magicians
Three favourite words?
lovely, devastating, yearning
Want to be interviewed for our author spotlight? Get in touch here.
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Crafting is good for the Heart
An Anon asked:
This is a request as well as a test for you I suppose? since I’ve personally never seen your kh work before. A request for a VentusxAqua writing. When you get the chance.
I hope you won’t get bothered if i wrote a one-sided crush instead of full on shipping. I would’ve been a bit awkward because of Ven being a child (A thousand year old child, but a child nonetheless.
And thanks for giving me a good entry point to write good KH fics. I hope you like it.
Living in The Land of Departure is enough to drive you insane..
Aside from Aqua herself, Master Eraqus and Terra were the only two people who lived in the world with her ever since she moved in to become a master herself.
And she had lived there for at least five years with a man whose definition of an evasive manoeuvre is doing cartwheels until you can literally dodge through an explosion at point blank, and a teenager who regularly eats protein powder out of the can because he didn't read the instructions on how to prepare it beforehand.
She had past the point where she would've gone insane from the master's outlandish sternness and Terra's recklessness a while ago, though. She managed to avoid going insane by crafting stuff in her free time, much like she did before she got the keyblade and her own world fell into the darkness.
She usually bought her materials from a single Moogle who visited the world every now and then, and made small charms, figurines and toys enchanted by her keyblade's magic.
They weren't particularly useful in combat. But at least they gave her a purpose to fulfill as she endured Eraqus’ merciless training.
So, when the shadiest and most suspicious person ever alive, Master Xehanort comes to their castle and drops an amnesiac young boy under Master Eraqus care, Aqua decided to take him under her wing to shield him from the other two's strange habits, as he was likely to lack any kind of coping mechanism due to the amnesia.
♥♥♥♥
Ventus liked the land of departure.
It was a beautiful place to live, and the group of people he lived with were pretty lively.
Master Eraqus was an strict but kind man. Occasionally letting him do less training that Terra and Aqua, and wasn't as strict with him (Rolling through explosions is easier than cartwheeling into them. Not necessarily safer, but definitely easier.).
Terra was a very cool guy. He always did his best to make Ventus have a fun time, and gave him his old Wooden keyblade as forgiveness for causing him a three months Coma that one time.
However, out of all the three people in the world, Ventus liked Aqua the most.
She was the very first person he saw after waking up from his coma and was definitely the most kind out of the others. She managed to convince Eraqus to give him less demanding training regimes a few several times, bailed him out of the many shenanigans Terra got involved in, healed him whenever he failed to do a trick on his keyblade glider immediately after he learned that he could make one. Not to mention that some of the stuff in his room were books and charms given to him to him by Aqua, including an enchanted figurine that kept the plants in his bedroom watered and healthy..
Ven, having such a pure heart, also tried to reciprocate that kindness. He often gave her a blanket whenever she fell asleep while studying a magic grimoire, serve as test subject for her relatively harmless magical experiments, and partaking in her crafting hobby everytime he could.
He loved the way she smiled at him whenever he did the latter with her. Apparently, the people at her world were mostly artisans. And seeing someone sharing the passion for craftsmanship made her heart flutter with nostalgia.
So, one day, Ventus decided to make something for her. If only to see her smile.
♥♥♥♥
“So… nervous about the Mark of Mastery Exam?” Ventus asked the young woman, who was polishing small pieces of an orange crystal on her worktable. “The master said It would be in a month or so.”
“Not really, Ven.” She answered, not lifting her gaze from her current task. “Knowing the master, probably the test will be only a combat exam against something dumb like light drones.”
“And what if your opponent is Terra?” The curious boy asked as he peeked at Aqua's work.
“If that's the case, then I guess that Terra will be a great master.” She said.
“Will you let him win against you?” Ven asked.
“Nope. I'll do my best to try and beat him.” Aqua answered once again. “But it's highly probable that I might lose that fight
“How come?” He said. “You’re very strong.”
“Terra once destroyed a thousand light drones in an hour after the master took away his allowance, Ven.” The magician explained. “If he did that for a thousand munny, imagine what he could do to pass the test.”
“Wow…” Ven said in awe.
“Yeah.” She raised the piece of glass to examine it, deeming it as perfect before setting it aside. “We should be thankful he is our friend, who knows what could he do if one day he snapped.”
“Remember me to never get on his bad side.” The boy said.
“He probably doesn't even have one.” Aqua said as she took an opaque piece of green crystal. “He’s still a very kind person beneath the Hakamas and his muscly exterior.”
“Why the Hakamas?” The blond boy said confused.
“They look kind of dumb if you ask me.” She said smiling as she started to polish the crystal. “I remember that you even used all of them as a tent one night.”
“Yeah, that night was fun.” He admitted.
Then the two of them fell silent for a little while. Ven sat down on Aqua's bed while she was still polishing another part of the crystal she had.
Eventually, Ventus broke the silence.
“So, huh… Do you remember when you tried to teach me how to craft something?” He said. A faint blush appearing on his face.
“Yes.” She said. “You almost stitched your own finger into the fabric you were working on.”
“Well… I, huh…” He stuttered a bit. “ I have been practicing what you taught me and, huh… I made something?”
“Really?” The young woman said, putting aside her current project. “Can you show it to me?
“S-Sure! Let me get it for you!” The boy said excitedly before bolting out of the room of his friend, running to the other side of the castle towards his room and returning to Aqua's bedroom in less than a minute.
He entered the room with his hands behind his back, hiding the thing he made away from her gaze.
“Please close your eyes for a second.” He asked her.
“Okay.” She complied.
“Good.” He said before placing the object he was holding in front of her. “Now open them.”
And so she did, finding a smaller version of her in front of her. A Mini-Aqua made out of cloth and cotton instead of flesh and bone.
“Ta-dah!” Ven said. “I made a mini you.”
He handed the small plush toy to her, who would then see it more closely.
It resembled a cartoony version of herself, it had a large head covered by a piece of deep blue felt stylized as her hair, and had a pair of black buttons placed vaguely around where the eyes should've been.
The body meanwhile, was really small, and it showed that Ventus really tried to capture the details of her attire despite his low skill, giving the toy a pair of shoes and using gray felt to make her armor. The rest of her attire was made of cotton, and it was just a bit mismatched in certain parts, like her skirt's tails being different types of fabric and her left sleeve being shorter than the right one.
It even had a crude, miniature version of her Rainfell made out of pipe cleaners sewn into her hand.
Ventus just stared at her with puppy eyes, waiting for her validation.
“I love it, Ven!” She said happily. “You must have spent a lot of time doing it.”
“It was nothing.” He said. His blush growing redder by the second. “I’m glad you like it.”
“You should do one for Terra!.” Aqua Commented. “I’m sure that he would love it.”
“Y-You think so?” The boy said nervously.
“Of course!” She said “Terra would think it looks cool.”
“I dunno…” He said. A deep blush flaring up in his cheeks. “It took me a lot of effort to do this one.”
“Just take your time and practice Ven.” Aqua said, ruffling his short, blonde hair with the hand that wasn't holding her smaller self.
“O-Okay.” The boy said as Aqua turned back to work on her project. Placing the small gift on top of a little bookshelf above her worktable.
Suddenly, he felt very embarrassed to be in the same room as her at the moment. So, he made an excuse to get out of the situation he made.
“A-Anyways, I’m really glad you liked the mini you.” he said as sweat dripped visibly from his forehead. “And i would love to ask you for advice on crafting. But I kinda remembered that I was going to help Terra train tonight.”
“That sounds great Ven!” She said. “Just don’t go to sleep very lately.”
“I won’t!” He said nervously as he walked backwards to the door. “Good luck with whatever you’re doing!”
The blonde boy then ran as fast as he could towards Terra’s bedroom, leaving a small trail of dust in his wake.
Aqua stared a the cloud for a second before letting out a small chuckle.
“I’m really glad you’re here with us, Ven.” She said with a smile before returning to polish the crystal for his wayfinder. Maybe she could finish them before the test.
#anonymous#fic request#kingdom hearts#Aqua#Ventus#crafting#plush toys#alexis writes shit#alexis takes requests
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Angus and Robbie
(For @alliedoesstuff who requested a fic with Angus or Robbie. So, I wrote a short one shot of them together! I bet you weren’t expecting that ;) Hope you like it!):
At first Angus had been hesitant to bring Robbie with him on his little “trips”, but now he’s glad he had brought the zombie. You see, Angus’s little trips into the wilderness would sometimes lead to ancient ruins from some old civilizations where undead creatures would sometimes still be lurking the hallways waiting to attack him. He used to go in them alone with just his trusty gun and a shit ton of ammo.
Then Marvin suggested that he take Robbie, not knowing what his little trips actually are. The magician said that maybe taking Robbie out and about could help the zombie.
He only agreed to take Robbie when Marvin gave him the “kitten eyes”. He could never say no when the kitten eyes came into effect.
So, here Angus is with Robbie following slowly behind him towards a large temple. This one is located in India and Angus is always most excited for these temples. They seem to have the best defense and hidden traps out of all that he’s been to. Also the most undead creatures wandering around.
Now he’s got an undead creature on his side. Strange.
Angus opens the front door and steps inside, Robbie limping not too far behind. He stays low and ready to leap. The zombie doesn’t seem to be paying attention at all. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought him. He seems to be more of a dim witted creature like the other ones.
His eyes widen when the floor beneath him slides down. A button. “Run!” he yelled and he does so himself, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He knew what kind of trap this one is: large spikes that shoot from both walls and impale anything in the way. He makes it across the hall but when he finds that Robbie didn’t he feels his heart stop. Great. Marvin is going to kill him.
He turns to look for Robbie’s corpse but his eyes widen when he finds the zombie to be pushing from a large spike sticking through his gut. The zombie doesn’t appear to be phased by what just happened to him in the slightest and he’s already limping to Angus. All the other zombies wouldn’t be able to continue after being impaled by something that large.
Maybe it was a good idea to bring Robbie.
With the knowledge that he can’t die easily, Angus uses Robbie as a quite literal meat shield. Through a volley of arrows, past a large and swinging axe, and a few other traps. The zombie maybe bleeding but he continues on like he doesn’t have large and gaping holes in his flesh.
Angus is starting to like him.
He grows to like him even more once they’ve reached the final part of the temple and his eyes land on a small and emerald green statue. He smirks. That would look nice in the living room. He’s stepping into the room when the large axe comes flying towards his face. He would have died in that moment if it hadn’t been for Robbie.
Robbie shoves Angus out of the way and Angus can’t stop himself from wincing at the sound of the axe slicing into the zombie’s stomach. His eyes drift to the large and ugly undead creature that had swung the axe at him and his stomach turns. This one is the largest and most decomposed zombie he has seen thus far. He’s even more decomposed than Robbie.
The undead creature makes a terrible roar with its mouth and yanks its axe from Robbie’s stomach, moving to swing at him once more. But Robbie appears to be quicker now then usual. He dodges out of the way and leaps at the larger creature, biting down on its arm and yanking downwards. They both fall to the floor and Robbie crawls on top of the other, clawing at its upper half.
Angus pushes to his feet and is moving to help when Robbie is tossed off. The zombie lands on all fours nearby, growling and snarling with his tongue hanging from between his fangs. The larger creature stands back up and looks at Angus, once more swinging at him. He’s more prepared this time and is able to duck beneath it. Robbie leaps onto the creature’s back, grabbing onto its flesh and biting at the back of its neck.
The creature roars in frustration and struggles to grab at Robbie. Angus uses this moment of distraction to rush forward and rush forward, pulling his trusted knife from its sheath and stabbing it into the creature’s throat.
The creature roars once more before choking on its own black blood. Robbie hops off of its back just as it falls backwards with a loud thump.
Angus let’s out a whoop and grins over at Robbie, raising his hand into the air. “Great work, partner!” he exclaimed and waits for the high five. Robbie stares at his hand for a moment and so he grabs the zombie’s wrist, slapping their hands together. Robbie grins and high fives him back now.
Maybe he would take Robbie with him on more adventures.
____
Tell me if I did good at writing Angus. This was my first time writing with him at all and so I’m not sure if I did good or not. Also, this was heavily inspired by Skyrim because I was actually just playing it lol
@magic-marvin-protection-patrol ...there’s the kitten eyes
#mine#long post#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#jacksepticeye#marvin the magician#robbie the zombie#angus the survival hunter#the survival hunter#markiplier
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Something Just Like This
Aka five times Jackie and Marvin refused each other’s help and the one time they didn’t.
Oh look, I finally wrote it. This has been in the plans since like four fics ago. Title has no relevance aside from the fact that the song makes me think of Jackie. Also, “Superman” by Five For Fighting came on my playlist while writing the fourth part and I can definitely recommend it for some extra feels.
Hey @magic-marvin-protection-patrol may I offer some stories about these two in these tiring times?
Dedicated to @sunkistjello bc they’re awesome and I promised them this fic like ages ago
Characters: Jackie, Marvin
Word count: 5.4k
Warnings: a little bit of blood an injury, but that should be it. Marvin and Jackie are dumb dorks in love they just don’t know how to go about it.
It's such a nice, pleasant evening, one of those quiet ones Jackie cherishes the most. No running around fighting crime, no worrying Marvin or sitting alone on the couch because Marvin is so immersed in working on his magic that he doesn't even notice Jackie is there. They're almost like normal people, and Jackie is sitting in the living room trying to choose which movie to watch while Marvin is getting up to lord knows what in the kitchen.
Jackie's head shoots up and he turns towards the kitchen when he hears the sudden sound of plates tumbling onto each other. He heads over to investigate, knowing full and well that he'll either find Marvin seriously needing his help or just in an amusing situation, and both of those are worth getting up for.
Marvin, as Jackie discovers, is balancing at least ten different plates of varying shapes and sizes with such intense focus that he doesn't even notice Jackie at first. He only realises he's got company when Jackie tries to take some of the dishes from him before he causes an accident.
Jackie takes the top few plates off the stack and leans closer to Marvin's face with a small grin. "You need any help?"
Marvin snatches the plates back and turns on his heel with surprising speed, and even more surprisingly he doesn't drop anything. "I'm fine, I've got this!" he shoots Jackie a reassuring grin before he starts sorting through the dishes, stubbornly without putting the original tower of them down anywhere.
Jackie watches with slight worry. Marvin doesn't pay him any mind.
He's got the plates sorted out quite quickly and without accident, and Jackie feels like he should applaud him for it, up until the moment Marvin turns and shoots him the widest grin, that little shit.
"Ha! Told ya!"
Jackie just chuckles to himself and gives him a fond shake of his head. "Sure you did," he agrees jokingly.
He moves to stand at the counter next to Marvin and starts putting the dishes away. He playfully knocks his hip against Marvin's, who reciprocates by shoving him so hard he almost falls. Marvin isn't sure if he should be laughing or apologising for a moment, but the next second Jackie jumps him shouting that this offence demands blood. Before he knows what's really happening Marvin is screeching and flailing, trying to escape Jackie's tickling.
"Okay, okay! I give up!" Marvin shouts, breathless from laughing. Jackie listens and his hands come to rest on Marvin's hips instead of running over his sides. Marvin tries to calm his residual giggling, but to no avail. "I hate you."
"Sure you do," Jackie grins and presses a kiss to his cheek. The smooth bastard. Marvin can't keep his giggles down again.
Jackie finally lets go of him to properly start putting away the clean dishes. Marvin runs a hand through his hair a few times to make it orderly again, then he joins to help him.
Though there's still a small smile playing with his lips, Jackie's thoughts circle back to earlier. He takes a mental note of what he's just learned – Marvin does not like accepting help.
Apparently neither does Jackie.
"No, really," Jackie waves his hands about, immersed in the story he’s telling. "There were four of them, all armed with knives and who knows what else. One of them almost got me. I barely got away!"
He stops when he notices that instead of his usual enthusiasm and excitement, Marvin seems so be very serious and deep in thought. Serious Marvin is never a good sign.
"Okay, what's up?" Jackie nudges him.
"You know I'm a magician and all that, right?" he starts, without any hesitation to his voice. "I could be useful to you out there. I could help you fight and escape easier. If you would let me come with you, y'know."
Jackie's expression darkens, but Marvin either doesn't notice at all or he just pretends he doesn't.
"I don't wanna take your title or anything! I'm totally okay with being just a sidekick!" Marvin shrugs and looks at Jackie with a hopeful grin. "We could fight crime together!"
"No."
"But...why?" Marvin looks confused. Jackie has never shut any of his ideas down so quickly before.
"Because I said so," Jackie crosses his arms. "I'm not going into a debate about this."
"But Jackie, I could help you! And it would be so much fun!" Marvin doesn't listen. Of course he doesn't listen. "Look, I can do fire magic pretty alright, illusions are easy, and healing magic isn't exactly my thing but I could try learning it for you!"
"I said no, Marvin. I'm not changing my mind about this."
"But-..."
"No," Jackie cuts in coldly. Before Marvin could say anything else he pushes himself up from the couch and makes for the door.
Marvin is dumbfounded. This is not the Jackie he knows. "Okay, but why?" he asks, maybe a little too loud.
Jackie stops in the doorway for a moment and shoots him a sharp look which undeniably means that he considers this conversation over. "Because I'm not willing to risk you getting hurt out there," and with that he turns and leaves. Marvin doesn't have the chance to respond, but then again he doesn't really know what to say anyway.
When Jackie wakes up in the middle of the night at first he has no idea why. He lies still, eyes trying to pierce the darkness around him. Then he hears it – heavy thuds and startled cries, coming from the direction of Marvin's room. Jackie jumps out of bed so quickly he has to hold onto the wall for a second as the world around him goes fuzzy.
He stumbles through the darkness as he makes his way to Marvin's room, not bothering with his glasses and thinking to himself that maybe they should put up some nightlights in the hallway. He knocks on Marvin's door for politeness's sake, but doesn't wait for longer than a few seconds before entering.
He doesn't know what he was expecting to see but it surely wasn't this. In the moonlight filtering through the thin curtains the image is more surreal than it should be considering Jackie's past experiences with living with a magician.
There's objects floating all around the room – books, drawing supplies, a few clothes, a couple of empty cups. They tremble in place and occasionally one or more of them give in to gravity and fall to the ground, then slowly float back up again. At least Jackie knows where the thuds have come from now.
But the worst part is when Jackie finally notices Marvin. He's nothing but a lump curled up on the bed, as small as he can get, shaking like a leaf. His blanket is thrown off, lying in a heap on the ground. As Jackie watches in startled silence, Marvin cries out again, flinching violently, and three or four of the floating objects plummet to the floor before rising again.
Jackie rushes to the bed dodging flying books so thick they could probably smash his skull in if they decided to fall the wrong moment. He drops to he knees next to the bed, grabbing Marvin by the shoulders. He's very clearly having a nightmare and Jackie needs to wake him from it somehow.
He has no idea how. He's never had to deal with Marvin having nightmares before. He doesn't know if they're a very rare occurrence or if Marvin is just very good at hiding that he has them, but this definitely has to be the first time they got this bad. Jackie has never woken up to something like this before.
"Come on, Marvin, wake up!" he shakes Marvin again, trying to be gentle.
Jackie doesn't know if it's the sudden physical contact or if he just got lucky with his timing and Marvin was about to wake up anyway, but Marvin’s eyes snap open and his body tenses, and all the floating objects fall down for the final time. He flinches violently at the noise and curls in on himself more, crying and trembling. Jackie's heart breaks seeing him like this.
"Hey, Marvin," Jackie whispers, careful not to startle him more.
Marvin peeks out from behind his hands, eyes wide in terror, but once they focus on Jackie's face he lets out another sob and reaches for him desperately. Jackie reacts immediately and pulls him into his arms as well as he can while still sitting beside the bed. He strokes the back of Marvin's head with his thumb as he buries his face into Jackie's neck and cries.
"It's okay," he whispers. Damn, he teases Marvin a lot for being shorter than him, but this time he actually feels so small. It scares Jackie a bit. "You're safe now, I'm here."
He can feel Marvin's nails digging into his back as he holds on for dear life. He ignores the little pricks of pain and doesn't stop whispering reassurance until Marvin's crying subsides. As soon as it does, Marvin pulls away. He's still shaking and Jackie watches him carefully.
Marvin falls onto his back and takes a couple shaky breaths. "Thanks," he mumbles, staring at the ceiling instead of anywhere near Jackie. "I'm good now."
"Are you sure?" Jackie asks. It's a genuine question, but he's not sure Marvin understands that. He reaches out to wipe Marvin's tears from his face. Marvin tenses under his touch for a moment before relaxing again. He's not wearing his mask, the scars running across his face are on full display and that always puts him on edge.
"Yeah. It's nothing."
Jackie hums. He doesn't want to argue. "I can stay here if you'd like," he offers. It's as much for his own peace of mind as it is for Marvin's, but he doesn't mention that. He'd feel much better sleeping next to Marvin tonight after an episode like this.
"No, it's fine," he considers trying for a reassuring smile but decides he wouldn't really be able to pull it off right now. Instead he just rolls over so that his back is turned to Jackie. As much as he loves Jackie he doesn't want him to see him in such condition.
Jackie sighs. Here they go again, Marvin and his stubbornness. Jackie won't argue, he hates to. He just hopes one day Marvin will come to him for help on his own.
"Alright," he nods and pushes himself to a stand. He picks up the discarded blanket and drapes it over Marvin's curled up form. For a moment he contemplates if he should, but he leans down and presses a kiss to Marvin's temple. "But do wake me up if you need anything."
Marvin only hums and shuts his eyes. Jackie knows he's not okay and he wishes Marvin would just admit it. It hurts to leave him when he's like this.
Jackie still does, not knowing what else to do. He shuts the door behind himself quietly and screws his eyes shut for a moment too. He just wants to help.
He doesn't hear any more noises from Marvin's room that night. For a while he believes it's a good sign, but his stomach drops ten feet when the next morning he sees Marvin exhausted and barely upright on his feet. He knows Marvin hasn't slept the whole night just to avoid his nightmares and his need for Jackie’s comfort.
Jackie sways as soon as he lets go of the doorframe. Hmm. Maybe he's lost more blood than he had originally thought. As he stumbles to the bathroom he prays Marvin is already asleep. The last thing he wants right now is to worry Marvin.
Okay, so maybe he looks like a hungry werewolf just took a tasty bit out of his shoulder. So what? He's a superhero fighting crime almost every day, heroes get hurt and then they move on and go back to their duties. That's how it works.
Marvin doesn't seem to understand that.
Jackie isn't mad at him, of course he isn't. He knows Marvin's worry comes from love and he loves Marvin back just as much. But whether Marvin worries or not, Jackie is still going to put himself out there, fight and inevitably get hurt every now and again. The only difference is that if he hides his wounds successfully then they won't hurt Marvin too. And so that's what he does, sneaking around the house when he comes home injured, pretending he's fine, promising Marvin to be more careful next time even though it's not up to him.
He gets lucky. Lucky in his book, at least.
Marvin seems to have already gone to sleep. It's rare that he doesn't stay up waiting for Jackie, but it happens. Jackie is glad he's not exhausting himself more than he already does by his magic.
The wound on his shoulder hurts like a bitch. Advil doesn't exactly work for this kind of stuff and so he bites down on a rag while he cleans it for himself. It would probably be much better if Marvin did it for him, but he doesn't want to disturb him. So he sits in the bathtub, getting blood all over himself, messing up the bandaging for the sixth time and grasping hopelessly after the gauze when it rolls away from him again. He manages.
He's almost done cleaning himself from blood when the bathroom door opens and Jackie freezes. Marvin comes stumbling in, looking incredibly sleepy. He's wearing his mask out of habit and comfort, and one of Jackie's flannels over his pyjamas. His hair is a mess, falling across his forehead because he can't be bothered to brush it back and Jackie oh so desperately wants to run his hands through it.
Marvin blinks confusedly at the light and at the sight of Jackie sitting in the tub before it clicks. His expression melts into a mix of hurt and worry, and Jackie curses his bad luck.
"What happened?" Marvin shuffles over, clumsy with sleep, and crouches next to the tub.
"Nothing serious," Jackie shrugs only with his intact shoulder. "I'm gonna be fine."
"You always say that."
Jackie's expression softens and he leans a little closer. "Would I ever lie to you?"
"No. Stop that," Marvin's eyebrows knit together and he looks dead serious.
"Stop what?" the innocence in Jackie's voice is genuine. He's not exactly sure what Marvin means this time.
"Sweet talking yourself out of this...situation you've got yourself into."
"Oh..." he looks away and tilts his head a little. "I promise I am going to be okay though. It's not as bad as it looks," he turns back towards Marvin and offers him a small smile.
"Why won't you just let me help..."
Jackie sighs. He looks genuinely sad. "Marvin, we've been over this."
Marvin's shoulders sag and he lowers his head. Jackie is still surprised by how quick his pride can drop into defeat.
"I just wish..." Marvin cuts himself off, not sure if he wants to continue. He screws his eyes shut and shakes his head, biting his lower lip. His eyes are dry and he's glad he's finally learning not to cry every time Jackie gets hurt. He'd want to, but he can't just guilt Jackie into staying every time instead of pursuing his dream as a hero.
Marvin leans his elbows onto the edge of the tub and stares blankly at the frayed bits of gauze lying at the bottom next to Jackie's bare legs. He feels numb.
"I can't just quit being a hero," Jackie shakes his head. He's torn. Again.
"I know."
Jackie takes one of Marvin's hands and presses his knuckles to his lips. "I'm sorry."
"I know," Marvin whispers again. He's sorry too.
They're at a standstill. And neither of them know how to proceed.
They're both having a bad day.
Marvin has been struggling with a spell for days and he's making no progress. It's infuriating and he's not exactly known to be the most patient person either. He's getting incredibly close to just lighting this whole thing on fire and giving up on it, then lighting a few more things on fire just to let out his frustration.
Jackie shuffles into the room looking uncharacteristically tired and frail. He's been having one of those days when just nothing works out. Everything seems to break under his touch, he can't get anything right, there's a lump in his throat and his hands won't stop shaking. Above everything he just really, really needs a hug.
He approaches Marvin tentatively, and the little voice in the back of his head won't stop telling him that if everything he tries goes wrong today, why wouldn't this too? He can see the tension in Marvin's shoulders and the smouldering fire behind his eyes, and his instinct to help and comfort overrides his need to be comforted.
"Hey, Marv," he tries for a soft, happy voice. "You need any help?"
Marvin turns around swiftly to glare at him. "I'm fine," he snarls pointedly, then whips back around so quickly he doesn't even see the hurt in Jackie's eyes.
Jackie all but runs to his room. Marvin didn't mean it, he's just frustrated, he didn't mean to hurt him, don't cry over something so stupid, don't cry, don't you dare cry...It's really hard not to cry. This day just had to deliver another low blow before he gave up on it, didn't it?
He sits curled up in the corner of his bed, knees drawn to his chest, hugging a pillow. He wishes it was Marvin in his arms instead. He needs comfort, desperately, the kind he can only really get from cuddling or goofing off with Marvin. He wishes he could just go back, pull Marvin up by his hand and ask him for a dance like he usually does when Marvin is having a bad day and Jackie wants to cheer him up.
But usually Marvin doesn't snap at him and usually Jackie doesn't have this bad of a day. But now he does and he doesn't know what to do about it. If only he could spend time with Marvin or find another way to pick himself up, but Marvin is busy and frustrated and Jackie doesn't want to bother him.
His mind wanders, but it always winds up with darker and darker thoughts. Jackie doesn't like them.
He's painfully aware of how stubborn Marvin is, and how stubborn he himself is, too. And he slowly starts to think it's going to tear them apart. He's scared Marvin will one day hurt himself when he just won't ever ask for help to deal with his own demons. And Marvin is scared Jackie will die of his own stubborn hero complex one day.
They can't keep doing this. Jackie finally admits that.
He kicks himself off the bed, discarding the pillow in the process. He needs to talk to Marvin about this, he doesn't care that Marvin is in a snappy mood and armed with powerful magic he could blow up in Jackie's face. They can't keep avoiding this.
He finds that Marvin had moved to his room to keep messing with whatever trick he's been struggling with recently. Jackie knocks on the door and Marvin cracks it open, just wide enough so that Jackie can see his face. He doesn't even say anything, just gives Jackie a pointed look that tells him to hurry up and get it over with.
"We need to talk," okay, that's a horrible start. Jackie anxiously brushes a hand through his hair. "We can't keep doing this, avoiding problems and never accepting help. It's not healthy," he sighs. He really hopes Marvin understands, but sometimes it's hard getting things through that thick skull of his.
Marvin lets out a sad chuckle. "It's just what we do, isn't it? Running headfirst into walls before thinking about going around," he shrugs, and before Jackie could ask what he means he shuts the door again.
Jackie is left standing there. He feels alone and lost. He has no idea what to make of Marvin's response, whether he's content with their current situation or if he's just too tired to try and change it for the better, or something entirely different even. Jackie wishes this was just a bad dream he could wake up from, or a fairy tale so that he could snap his fingers and make it all okay again.
Marvin is within arm's reach, just on the other side of the door, yet he feels miles away. It's not an entirely new feeling, Marvin does get distant from time to time, but this time it really scares Jackie. It puts an unwelcome ache in his bones, the fear that he's alone and doesn't know what to do.
He's scared. Both for himself and for Marvin.
That night Jackie hears it again. The thuds, the muffled cries – he knows, it settles painfully in his chest, that Marvin is having nightmares again. It's the third time just this week. He rolls over to his back and stares at the ceiling, or as much as he can see from it in the darkness at least. He wants so badly to get up and go over to Marvin's room to comfort him, but at the same time he isn't sure if he even should. That hurts to think about, too, how just a day ago Jackie would have rushed to check on Marvin and hold him until he calmed down regardless of Marvin's stubborn nature, and now he's here doubting if that would be the correct choice. It hurts.
He mentally kicks himself for even making that a dilemma. Marvin is stubborn and proud, but Jackie still loves him all the same. He can't just sit around while Marvin is hurting and needs his help.
He's just about to jump out of bed and make his way to Marvin's room, not even noticing the absence of noises, when his door opens. It's Marvin, standing in the doorway and holding onto the door for support, shaking and crying silently. Jackie almost trips over his own feet in his hurry to run to him and hug him. Marvin clings to him weakly as soon as he gets within his reach.
He half leads, half carries Marvin to the bed, because he's so shaky he can barely stand on his feet. Jackie keeps whispering to him. "It's okay, I'm here, you're okay, you're safe, it's okay..."
Marvin curls against him as soon as they sit down on the bed, hiding his face in Jackie’s shoulder as he cries. Jackie holds him close and rocks the both of them, back and forth, back and forth. He doesn’t stop talking for a moment, whispering reassurance over Marvin’s sobs and whimpers. After a while Marvin seems to calm down and he pushes himself away, breathing deep to calm himself. He doesn’t get far before crying takes him over again and he collapses back against Jackie. Jackie rocks him and mumbles over and over again that it’s okay, they’re okay, he’s got him and everything is going to be fine.
Marvin eventually runs out of tears and of breath. He remains holding onto Jackie, heaving tiredly and still shaking. An annoying voice at the back of Jackie’s mind nags at him, tells him that this is exactly what he’s been afraid would happen.
Except it isn’t. Because Marvin came to him on his own.
“Hey? Any better?” Jackie asks gently, burying his nose into Marvin’s hair tiredly. He can’t lie to himself, he’d love to just fall asleep like this. When he feels Marvin weakly hum and nod, he plants a kiss onto his head.
“You know, I...” Marvin speaks unexpectedly, his voice small and shaky. He shudders as he takes a deep breath. “I do need your help. I need you. And I do know that, I just...” he’s rambling, he knows he is, but it’s late and he’s tired and Jackie holding him like this just feels so nice, and he can’t stop himself. “I don’t wanna burden you when you already have...so much to deal with. And I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, with all my freaky nightmares and magic and all that,” his voice cracks and he does his best not to start crying again. He presses himself closer to Jackie. “I should be able to deal with all of this on my own, but...but I’m not.”
Jackie doesn’t know how to respond. There’s just too much to say. He squeezes Marvin for a moment, enjoying having him in his arms so much, and then he pushes him a little farther away. Marvin looks like a mess, a beautiful mess in Jackie’s eyes but a mess nonetheless. Jackie presses a kiss to his forehead, his bare forehead, no mask, just Marvin and his scars.
“We can talk about this in the morning, okay?” he asks softly. He knows he had been the one finding this more urgent than anything, but right now they’re both sleepy and not at all emotionally stable. They will need clear minds and daylight to sort this out.
Marvin agrees. They go to sleep together.
Jackie is slow to wake up. It’s the perfect start to the best kind of morning, feeling sunshine through his eyelids and a warm body curled next to his. He moves closer, pulling Marvin against himself more and he feels Marvin laugh.
He cracks his eyes open just for a moment, then presses his nose against Marvin’s neck and mumbles into his skin. “Morning, sunshine.”
He feels Marvin laugh again. This is perfect.
Marvin holds him tight and runs a hand up and down his spine, and in his sleepy, blissful daze Jackie wishes the moment would last forever.
He can feel Marvin sigh. “Why can’t everything just be this easy and perfect?”
And it’s over. That sentence successfully wakes Jackie up, making him remember last night and the day before, and all the things they have to sort out. Cuddling is great, but since Marvin just had to go and open a can of worms in the middle of it all Jackie cannot blissfully ignore the problem any longer.
Jackie sits up and stretches, his spine straightening with a satisfying pop. He can feel Marvin shifting too, but he doesn’t make any moves to get up himself.
“Alright,” Jackie leans back on his hands and looks down at Marvin, still stubbornly buried between the sheets but very much awake. “We seriously need to talk.”
Marvin only gives him a look at means “okay then, you start”.
And so Jackie starts. “We can’t keep doing this. You can’t go around fighting all your demons on your own. I just...I can’t watch as this happens to you. I want to help you. I love you, damn it,” he rubs his hands over his face, not noticing the shocked look Marvin gives him. It’s a little strange when he thinks about it, because sure they’ve been sharing a house for a good while now, they give each other occasional kisses and they cuddle and they don’t necessarily sleep in their own bed every single night but...love confessions? That was an entirely new thing to happen. But Jackie doesn’t even seem to notice. “We both need each others’ help, okay? We gotta learn that. It’s not easy, I know, but we have to.”
Marvin nods in understanding when Jackie looks towards him for approval. He knows Jackie must have had these thoughts for a long while now, so he lets him talk. Jackie needs to get this out of his system.
“Getting help doesn’t make you weak or any bit less or a burden,” Jackie continues. “You...you’re not a burden, okay? Don’t ever think you are. And you’re strong, really strong, I know that too, I just...” he runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “I want to help you, because you don’t have to do this alone. And...neither do I.”
When Jackie leans forward and props his chin up on his hands, Marvin knows he’s done. He looks so tired, too, and not the “just woken up and wanna cuddle” kind of tired.
Marvin lets himself think for a moment. What Jackie had said hit him pretty hard and now he needs to gather his thoughts. He knows Jackie doesn’t want to mess up and neither does he.
“Okay, first of all,” he groans as he sits up and his joints are forced back to work. He rolls his shoulders and moves to sit closer to Jackie, who watches him curiously. “I love you, too,” he leans forward and pulls Jackie into a kiss before he could lose his courage. Jackie makes a shocked little sound in the back of his throat before he all but melts and Marvin chuckles against his lips. A proper kiss. Now that’s another thing they haven’t done before. When they pull apart, Jackie is wearing a happy, dopey grin and Marvin playfully smacks his shoulder, laughing. “And secondly,” he lets his voice turn serious again. “You’re right. I need to learn to let you help me...and you need to let me help you, too. You can’t run around saving people and getting hurt all the time and then taking care of yourself all on your own. Let me do it. Let me help,” he smiles. “I’ll let you help me and you let me help you, huh? We can take care of each other.”
The grin is back on Jackie’s lips the moment Marvin finishes talking. “That sounds like a deal to me.”
Marvin laughs. “It is a deal then.”
They smile at each other for a moment like some sleepy, lovesick idiots. They’re goofing off and joking about it now, but they both know under it they’re being serious. It’s a completely serious agreement, a promise to try and do better, and they both want to keep it.
“Okay, can we seal the deal with breakfast though? I’m starving,” Jackie cocks his head to the side with a playful expression. “Pancakes?”
“Hmm, sure,” Marvin stretches again and stifles a yawn. “We have waffles in the cupboard though.”
Jackie’s eyes widen as if Marvin had just told him the way to some incredible treasure. “Waffles?”
“Yes, Jackieboy, we have waffles,” laughs Marvin. He thanks his lucky stars for blessing him with such a lovable idiot.
“I vote waffles then! I’m too lazy to make pancakes right now.”
“You lazy bum,” Marvin teases, poking him in the side. “Waffles it is then.”
“What are we waiting for then?” Jackie cheers with over-the-top enthusiasm. He’s being a big dork, but it’s making Marvin laugh so it’s definitely worth it. “Waffle time!”
Jackie tumbles off the bed, tripping over his own feet in his hurry, and Marvin watches him in amusement. He tugs Marvin up too, then makes to let go and get his glasses, but Marvin grabs his hand. Jackie stops, a little flustered and a bit more confused.
Marvin gives him a shy smile and pulls out a red rose from behind his back. An old magic trick, nothing spectacular as far as execution goes, but Marvin hopes the gesture is genuine and cheesy enough to make Jackie happy. From the way Jackie’s face turns almost as red as the rose, Marvin guesses it worked. He laughs, pressing a kiss to Jackie’s cheek that only deepens his blush.
Then he pulls away, grinning, and takes off towards the kitchen. “Move or I’m not leaving you any waffles, slowpoke!”
Jackie takes another fond look at the rose in his hand before he follows him, shouting jokingly about how he will move all of Marvin’s belongings to the highest shelves in the house if he does that.
They have a long way to go, they are both aware of that. Learning to ask for help is one of the hardest things to do, but they’re going to get there. One day they will, they just have to give it time. But the point is that they’re both willing to work on it, if anything because they love each other.
#marvin the magnificent#jackieboy man#marvelsepticeye#fanfiction#jacksepticeye#writing#no idea if 5+1 fics are cringey or over or whatever and i've never written one before but i find it a really good format#that's very pleasant to work with at least for me#look at that cheesy ass sappy ending#sorry for any mistakes i wrote this whole thing today somehow so there might be some at the end#i love. writing. relationship. development.
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