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hellfiresky · 5 months ago

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Seeing Red: Morning run and midnight snack

Contribution for @clonexocweek | Theme: Intimacy

This is an excerpt from the second half of Chapter 29 of Seeing Red - though this section works surprisingly well as a standalone chapter.

Summary: Tal and Fives, long-time friends with benefits, approach sex the same way they approach sports - a game meant for bonding, passing time, chatting, and burning calories. And just like any other sport you play with friends, this one is entirely platonic.

Pairings: Fives x Ge’tal Solus (F!OC - Mandalorian bounty hunter) - Platonic, yet sexual. Word count: 4k Warnings: Sexual content, lots of swearing, aftercare includes existential crisis.

Taglist: @orangez3st @msmeredithrose Recommended to play this song as a soundtrack!

Chapter 29 (second half): Morning run and midnight snack

The bed creaked under them, and not in a flattering way. Tal let out a moan - not the good kind - as she shifted her weight, pressing her palm against Fives’ chest.

“Move your fucking elbow. You’re stabbing me.”

“That’s your fault for buying the galaxy’s worst mattress,” he adjusted his position. “You call this a bed? Feels like we’re lying on a stack of durasteel plates.”

“You never complained before. Quit whining and roll—ow, not that way! My hip’s pinned.”

He snorted, easily shifting Tal from under him to on top of him, just how she liked it. “Better?”

“For me, yeah. No idea how your spine’s holding up.”

“You’re not exactly light as a feather yourself, Red,” he grinned as he adjusted her thighs. “What do you eat, beskar for breakfast? How could you look small and be this heavy?”

“Shut up, I’m not small,” she snapped. “You clones are spoiled. Kaminoans probably made your cots all soft and ergonomic.”

“Soft?” Fives gave her an accusatory look mid-thrust. “Do you know what we slept on as cadets? Hard slabs in pods. Literal fucking slabs. Also yes, you’re small compared to me.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Tal swatted his arm from where she was straddling him. “Try napping in one of those greasy ventilation levels whilst tailing a target. No slabs there, just piss and prayers.”

“Wooooooooow, you’re so tough,” he whined. “Move your leg a bit. No, the other one. You’re cutting off circulation.”

“Maker, you’re high maintenance,” she held back a moan as she adjusted her position, the salvaged DIY mechanical parts of her bed frame groaning under them. “Better?”

“Much. I can feel my toes again.” Fives let out a small grunt of satisfaction. “Oh, that’s good. Keep going.” Tal let out a breathless laugh. She gripped the sad excuse of a headboard in front of her as she tried to keep her pace. “Why am I… doing…” she moaned, “…all the work here?”

Fives finally started pushing back again. “Because my legs are still recovering from Geo-fucking-nosis related injury. Unlike you, some of us had to fight a literal bug army.” Tal groaned, but not in the way he’d like during times like this. “Fuck’s sake. You and your war stories.”

“Keep going at that pace,” he dropped his voice an octave, holding her waist down to encourage her. “I can feel myself—”

“OW! Elbow again!” she yelped, cutting him off, her head snapping back to glare at him. That was all it took to send Fives into a fit of laughter. He barely managed to hold himself upright as his shoulders shook with a full-blown belly laugh. “Alright, alright! From the top then?” he managed between wheezes.

“Yeah, but stay right there this time, don’t move,” Tal ordered, rolling her eyes as she reset her position. Slowly, she moved her hips again. Fives’ hands followed instinctively, guiding her back into rhythm.

“See? Was that so difficult?” He accompanied his words with an overly dramatic grunt of approval. He reached up to brush her sweaty hair out of her face. Tal huffed, bracing herself better this time. “If you stop messing around for two seconds, maybe this wouldn’t be so karking hard.”

Fives snickered. “You’re the one making this harder than it needs to be.”

“Excuse me?” she shot back, nearly losing balance again. “You’re the one who—”

“Fuck, that’s it,” Fives pushed himself upwards. He pulled her closer and finally actively thrusting against her. “Hold on,”

“What?” Tal frowned between her moans.

“Just do it,”

Tal wrapped her arms around his shoulders to steady herself. The way his grip suddenly tightened on her waist sent a jolt through her, and she bit down on a smirk, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on her. He carefully got off her creaky bed and walked towards one of the kitchen counters.

“Really? Here?” Tal swallowed a moan. “Whatever happened… to… busted legs?”

“This is actually better, giving them more vertical pressure,” Fives grunted. “Stars, you feel so good.” His forehead brushed hers for a moment before he pulled back just enough to catch her gaze. The mischievous glint in his eyes was softer with that oh-so-familiar-look she wouldn’t dare question.

“You’re—” His words cut off with a groan, his hands sliding up to the small of her back.

“What?” she asked breathlessly. “Never mind,” he shook his head with a raspy laugh. “You’ll just make fun of me for it later.”

She wrapped her arms tighter around him as he pistoned relentlessly. “Fuck,” she gasped, biting his shoulder out of habit. Tal thoroughly enjoyed the sounds that came out of his mouth, the feeling of his soft hair tangled in her fingers, or how she knew her neighbour would slip another flimsi full of noise complaints in her doorstep again. It was Fives’ third night there in that week, and she was having too much fun to push him back to his barracks.

“I’m almost there,” she managed to talk in between moans.

“Together?” Fives suggested.

She didn’t even have to say anything. Fives pumped out a final thrust before both of them finally came together, all spent and out of breath. Tal rested her forehead on his shoulder as he softly ran his hand on her back. “You hungry?”

“Starved,”

“Hmm,” He left her side for a moment, returning with a damp towel from her fresher and a glass of cold water. She took the glass gratefully, draining it as he carefully cleaned her up, taking his time wiping away the mess they’d made.

“What do you feel like? Fried rice? Nerf burger?” he asked.

“Nerf burger with chips. Greasy, cheap, and perfect,” Tal tousled his hair. He knew the underlying message. “I’ll order as soon as I’m done here.” He gave the towel one last pass before chuckling. “You should really invest in a better bed, though.”

Tal burst out laughing and grabbed the towel, tossing it onto his head. “That bed is perfectly fine, you osik!”

Fives shrugged, letting the towel slide off. “My back disagrees. Anyway, where were you last night? I commed you, but no answer. Case, Jesse, and I wanted to take you out to this pizza place in Uscru. They’ve got these ridiculous cheese pulls—”

“Eh, I was busy,” she cut in, hopping off the counter and pulling on her clothes. She watched as Fives grabbed her comlink from the cluttered bedside table and dialed the nerf burger joint’s code.

“Busy?” he arched an eyebrow as he waited for the operator to pick up. “Care to elaborate, or is that all I’m getting?”

The operator answered, and Fives rattled off their usual order while Tal threw herself onto the bed. She stared at the ceiling. Was it wise to tell him she’d been with his captain the night before?

It was just talking. Nothing happened.

Her gaze drifted to Fives, who was still adding extra fries to their order. He wasn’t her boyfriend; he was just her friend with benefits. But still…

“You sure were busy,” Fives quipped as he hung up, eyes narrowed playfully.

“Yep. Super busy.” She rolled over on her stomach, and buried her face in the pillow.

“Busy doing what?” he flopped onto the bed beside her, smacking her ass for an answer.

“Ten credits,” she mumbled, words drowned by the pillow.

“What?” Fives twisted his head to look at her.

“Ten credits for an answer,” she repeated.

Fives broke into a laugh. “I’m not giving you shit!” he swiped her datapad off the nightstand and scrolled through the holoseries library. “What was that stupid vampire holoseries again?” he asked, already losing himself in her catalogue.

“What We Do in the Dark?” she guessed without lifting her face from the pillow.

“That’s the one.” He snapped his fingers and punched in the name, letting the latest episode stream onto the blank wall in front of her bed. “You really don’t want to tell your friend here where you were?” Fives continued to press the issue. “Case and Jesse were looking forward to hanging out with you again.”

“How come you didn’t invite Echo?” she countered. She lifted her head to shoot him a questioning look. “He’s your twin,” she added.

“Yeah, yeah, my twin, ” he echoed. “He was busy with one of his readings or whatever. Guy’s been glued to his datapad all week.”

“Unlike you,” Tal muttered with a snort.

Fives tossed her datapad back onto the nightstand. “Some of us know how to have a life outside work.”

“Work? Is that what you call this?” She finally rolled on her back and pointed at the holoseries on the wall. “Hey, hey, hey,” Fives protested. “This is culture, okay? You don’t just dismiss vampires duking it out in the Underlevels like it’s nothing.”

Tal smacked his arm before she settled in beside him. She loved him, and she knew he loved her too - like how friends loved each other. That was it. Whatever extracurricular activities they shared, it didn’t matter. It was like playing wicket ball: a sport, a game, something they both enjoyed without strings. She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling his arm draped around her instinctively. “Come on, who?” Fives pressed.

“Alright, fine,” she finally caved under his relentless prodding. “I was out with your ori’vod last night.”

“Be more specific. I have millions of them,” Fives turned his head to look at her.

“Your captain,” she clarified. “Rex?” Fives stiffened, and turned to look at her in exaggerated horror. “ Rex? ” he repeated, the word drawn out like it physically hurt him to say it.

“Why?” he finally managed, settling back into his earlier position but still side-eyeing her like she’d just confessed to something unthinkable.

Tal couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “Relax. It wasn’t a date or anything,” she nudged him playfully with her shoulder.

“Then what was it?” Fives asked. “Rex isn’t exactly the ‘let’s grab a drink and shoot the shit’ kind of guy, you know?”

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think,” she shrugged. “We just talked. About life, the war, the usual depressing shit that everyone avoids until it smacks them in the face.”

“You? Talking about life? That’s rich coming from someone who ducks questions like she’s on the run from the law.”

“Hey, I talk about life a lot. We talk about life a lot. Especially after you came back from a tough mission,” Tal shot back. She shoved her shoulder into his, this time harder, making him wobble before she sat up and reached for the bottle of water on her nightstand.

“Oh, sure,” Fives caught his balance. “If by ‘talking about life,’ you mean you asking me dumb questions like, ‘What would you do if you weren’t a clone?’”

“Dumb? Those are important questions!” she retorted between gulps of water. “Philosophical, even.”

“Sure, Jedi,” Fives quipped, arms crossed. “Next thing you know, you’ll be asking me what the meaning of life is.”

“Been there, done that,” Tal capped the bottle and tossing it back onto the nightstand. “You said bantha steak with glazed sauce.’”

“Rex is definitely rubbing off on you,” Fives suddenly muttered, scrolling through her datapad aimlessly.

“Rubbing off on me? Fives, what the fuck.” Tal gawked in horror.

He threw his hands up defensively. “Get your mind outta the gutter! I didn’t mean it like that! I meant, like… you know, making you all serious and reflective and shit.”

“Right,” she drawled. “For the record, your captain isn’t as uptight as you think he is. When he’s not barking orders, he’s actually tolerable.”

“So… you’re saying you like him?” Fives grinned. “Also, I know he’s not uptight. He just barely goes out. I don’t think he’s ever been to the underworld.”

Tal rolled her eyes. “As a person, sure. Don’t read too much into it, Fives. Not everyone’s out here playing wicket ball with their friends, if you catch my drift.”

“That sounded suspiciously defensive,” Fives leaned against the headboard with a shit-eating grin. “You sure nothing’s going on?”

“Positive,” she glared at him. Before Fives could press further, the apartment buzzer went off. Tal groaned and slapped his thigh. “Nerf burger. Go get it.”

“Bossy,” Fives muttered as he swung his legs off the bed. “Pause the show.”

“Yo, I paid for it,” Tal called after him, her laughter trailing as he grabbed his shoes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Fives grumbled half-heartedly. “Better be extra sauce in here.”

“So, no upcoming missions for you boys?” Tal asked as soon as Fives dropped the flimsi bag in front of her. She unwrapped her nerf burger - extra cheese, extra chili, just the way she liked it. Fives was already halfway through a handful of fries, his tipping back a glass of fizzy drink he’d ordered without consulting her.

He shrugged, swallowing. “We’re still recovering. They’re being nice by giving us this extended recovery leave. You know how it is - need to keep us sharp but not too sharp. No good having us out there if we’re broken. Anyway, political issues brewing across the ponds.” He pointed at her using a piece of fry. “You’ve heard about Mandalore, right? Death Watch? Duchess Satine? You seem… quiet about it. Aren’t they still your people?”

Tal paused mid-bite, the question caught her off guard. Sure, she kept up with the news - what went down on her home planet, mostly about the ideological battles. But it all felt like noise, completely drowned out by more immediate concerns. There was a small bounty to chase, the final push to organise that bounty hunters’ union, a gift to find for Leea’s birthday, hauling BL-4D to Rafa’s sister for her to fix. Not to mention whatever the fuck yesterday had been with Rex, and why she couldn’t shake the urge to drag him out again. The smaller GAR assignments piling up didn’t help either. “People is a strong word,” she reached over to snatch the fry from Fives’ fingers before he could eat it. She popped it into her mouth before continuing. “They’re people, sure. But they’re not my people.”

Fives watched her closely. Head tilted, eyebrows scrunched, frozen, weirded out. “You don’t have an opinion? A hot take? That doesn’t sound like you.” She smirked at his jab, and rolled her eyes. “What’s there to say? A bunch of zealots claiming they’re the true heirs of Mandalore while the Duchess tries to keep her perfect little pacifist glass castle from shattering. They’re both clinging to some version of Mandalore that never really existed.”

“That’s harsh, even for you,” Fives dipped a fry in the hot sauce before popping it into his mouth.

“Look, I got exiled for doing shit. Yes, I was wrong, but I still don’t think I deserved to be exiled. But… they decided I wasn’t one of them anymore. So, no, I don’t feel like I owe Mandalore anything. Let them fight their pointless fights.”

“Sounds like you care. Even if you’re pretending not to.” Fives huffed a laugh.

“Maybe I care about how stupid they’re all being,” she picked up her nerf burger from the wrapper. “But I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about a planet that tossed me out years ago.”

“Yeah, but...”

Tal sighed, setting the burger down carefully on its wrapper. “Okay, here’s an opinion. Death Watch is a joke. They wear the armour, throw around a bunch of ancient warrior rhetoric, but they’re just opportunists. Hiding behind ideals they don’t even understand. It’s not about honour, it’s about power.” She snatched a fry from his stash. “And Satine?” Tal continued her rant. “She’s no better. She pretends like Mandalore was always meant to be a place of peace. As if our history wasn’t built on war and blood. She talks about progress but ignores what made Mandalorians who we are. And in the process, she’s alienated half the system. Maybe more.”

Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the fry before popping it in her mouth. “But like I said, none of it really matters to me. I’m not part of that fight anymore. I gave up the right to care when they kicked me out.” Her bitterness carried something softer underneath it. Regret, maybe. Or relief. Fives studied her for a moment, his quick tongue stilled by her tone. “Again, doesn’t sound like you don’t care.”

“Old habits die hard, I guess. But caring about Mandalore is a one-way ticket to disappointment, vod. Trust me.” She rolled her eyes.

Fives let out a chuckle, which made her eyebrows scrunched. “What’s so funny, jaboon?”

“It’s just… ironic,” Fives began, hand busy swirling the straw in the flimsi cup of iced tea that came with their order. “How my brothers and I search for meaning in Mandalorian culture. In those who trained us back on Kamino, in our donor, in our prime.” He took a deliberate sip before continuing. “We were born - hell, we were bred - in a vacuum. A place so sterile we had to develop our own culture from scratch. Growing up surrounded by millions of people who looked and sounded exactly like you… it was insane. Like staring into an endless hall of mirrors, except each reflection is supposed to be an actual person.”

Tal momentarily forgot the nerf burger in her hand. She had never thought about her Mandalorian heritage as anything but a given - a birthright. She never questioned whether it meant something because it was simply there, a part of her blood and bones. But for Fives, for the clones, it was completely different.

“We looked for meaning in our prime,” Fives continued. “The one who literally made us. But to him? We were just cattle. Assets. So, we looked elsewhere - to the ones who trained us, Cuy’val Dar. Alpha-17 trained closely with them, he’s fluent in Mando’a, taught us what he could. But the rest of us could only adapt what we learnt. That’s why you hear Jesse say mesh’la weirdly. It’s something that belongs to us now.”

“Like a patchwork.” Tal concluded her tangled thoughts.

“Exactly,” Fives nodded. “We stitched together scraps of what we were taught, shaped it into something we could hold onto. Something that felt ours. And yeah, it’s not perfect, and maybe it’s not even ‘real’ Mandalorian culture. But it’s what we’ve got.”

“That’s heavy,” she processed his words. “And kind of fucked up.”

Fives laughed again. “You’re not wrong, Red. But that’s the thing about culture, right? You make it your own. Even if it’s not what it used to be.”

“Meanwhile, I’ve grown so detached from it. Now if you ask about culture to me, this is my culture.” She knocked gently on the window beside her. “The scoundrels, the misfits, the outlaws. I guess… that’s where I found meaning. Belonging.”

There was a certain poetry to it, wasn’t there? To have been born into a culture so steeped in tradition only to lose her place in it. Or, perhaps, to have thrown it away. She didn’t mourn the loss as much as she thought she might. The people who kicked her out weren’t the same people she’d grown up idolising. But even so, what she’d built in its absence was no less real. The underworld wasn’t a culture in the traditional sense; it didn’t have sacred texts or ancestral songs. It was a patchwork of people pushed to the edges of society, where the only rule was survival and the only loyalty was earned. Yet, in its own way, it was home.

It reminded her of the subcultures she had participated in since she was younger, as well as those on other planets she had read about on the Holonet. Movements born out of resistance or sheer necessity. Punk bands from Nar Shaddaa screaming their defiance against authority, street artists tagging on blank walls, slicers creating entire digital ecosystems in the margins of the galaxy. None of it was official. None of it would ever be celebrated in history holobooks. But it was real. And it belonged to the people who lived it.

That was the underworld - not just Coruscant’s, but the Galactic Underworld as a whole. A rebellion not against the Republic, the Separatists, or even the Mandalorians, but against irrelevance. Against being forgotten. Everyone down here had a story, whether they wanted to tell it or not. And in a twisted way, they all belonged to each other - misfits finding solace amongst misfits. Tal glanced at her reflection in the glass, the strobing neon lights from across the building made colourful fluid patterns over her face. “Guess that makes me part of a patchwork, too,” she murmured, more to herself than to Fives.

#clonexocweek #clonexocweek2025 #clonexocweek2025 day 4 #platonic #Fives x OC #ARC Trooper Fives x OC #Fives x Ge'tal Solus #hellfiresky #clone wars fic #star wars fic #tcw

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octagava · 4 months ago

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bsd anon breaks in again!!! ah, so, to the point about the secure life. i think i see what you're laying down (that all his life experiences would deny him the ability to "accept" a stable life), but i was more just talking about: i think there was an excerpt (or maybe i accidently delusioned fanfiction into canon) that dazai outlines that he could provide akutagawa with enough money to bury his friends and give prevent gin and akutagawa from ever worrying about survival ever again vs. joining the mafia but he warns that he will absolutely subject him to hell as his subordinate. it's not really an active choice as i view akutagawa as someone whose ability to dream about the future was stolen from him by the circumstances he was born in. i agree that he probably couldn't imagine another choice. because dreaming is a privilege for those who don't need to worry about their survival, for those who were given a haven somewhere to nurture their own hopes (to which, half-key, i kind of assume atsushi's was reading as it seemed he could get access to books, but akutagawa had nothing but what he could fight to obtain and preserve, which included the people he protected) so, akutagawa wasn't really given a "choice" despite the illusion dazai offered. this also plays into my suggestion that he plays into the system he fell into as well. because the mafia exists as a darkness to be controlled but not one that people would willingly indulge in (at least, this view is partially influenced by how i view mori as someone who decides to play into necessary evil to the world and minimize unnecessary damage). i think akutagawa doesn't "fight back" as in he can't imagine himself to be any better than who he believes he is currently. he might have gin, but generally, he cuts off his underlings and fights as a lone dog. the "fight" against the system i meant was kind of influenced by his beast version who, due to the ada reaching out to him, allows him to accept that regardless of his view of himself, there might be something for him out there, even after learning his entire life and existence doesn't matter due to some object some dude who stole his sister told him to guard. he's just a bit more grounded, perhaps not dreaming of a good life or anything, but looking more into himself through different lenses and challenging his own self perceptions. at the very least, i think this difference influenced why beast!sskk had a bit of a nicer chat and connected over shared trauma (because beast!akutagawa is a little more open) vs. canon!sskk where i think the only circumstance to get akutagawa to open up is in battle with an opponent strong enough to not die but takes no pride in their feats of strength because akutagawa comes in seeking battle. although honestly, it's been a bit since i read those chapters, so maybe i misremembered them too. but yeah, no, i'm not trying to assert akutagawa chose to become who he is because, he clearly didn't. he lacked stable mentor figures and then got taken in by another kid (because no matter how smart the guy is, he's still like... a teen... and i doubt mori was that fatherly to him since he is too focused on being a "objectively for the greater good in the shit system we're in" guy) who was stuck on a path to misery (because i'm certain the port mafia boss as a role makes the person inhabiting it beyond miserable no matter who falls into it) but doesn't try to deviate from it because he also can't imagine shit for himself. the tidbit about why akutagawa and dazai clash due to different views was really interesting though. i never thought about it like that. sorry, these become real chunky. i didn't know if asks allow line breaks so i can separate some of this, although i swear this used to have a character limit, so i'm surprised tumblr hasn't stopped me from yapping this long. or maybe you're getting a truncated version of this haha.

No worries about the length, I love the analysies and ideas, always glad to engage in any asks thats being send my way!

First, regarding the "secure life" offer, I get what you mean now. You’re talking about the idea that Dazai technically laid out another option for Akutagawa, but Akutagawa himself was never in a mental or emotional position to accept it. And honestly, I think that’s a really solid take. Even if Dazai had hypothetically handed him the means to leave and live peacefully with Gin, that doesn’t mean Akutagawa had the framework (I think that word can be used) to even recognize that as an existing path. When you grow up in a world where survival is your only concern, and where you've never been shown a real alternative, something like "safety" doesn’t even register as a possibility. So in that sense, I completely agree, he never really had a choice, because choosing requires being able to envision multiple paths, and that was stolen from him long before Dazai ever showed up.

Akutagawa and his relationship to the system however... hmm... thats an interesting angle to take overall, pronto. He is deeply loyal to the mafia, but he also seems to exist at its fringes, refusing to integrate into it socially or politically the way someone like Chuuya does. He isolates himself, fights alone, and views himself as expendable. That’s not necessarily the behavior of someone who believes in the system per say, more like someone who doesn’t see any way out but also refuses to fully submit. It’s more like he’s enduring the system rather than actively upholding it, though that distinction is very subtle.

Your comparison between Beast!Akutagawa and canon!Akutagawa is really compelling too. In Beast, he has the ADA to reach out and pull him toward a different self-perception, where in canon,

the only time he can express vulnerability is through combat. I think that idea is especially interesting when you bring up how Akutagawa only really "opens up" when faced with an opponent who does not take pride in strength. That’s such a key observation because it suggests that Akutagawa, deep down, is looking for something beyond power, even if he doesn’t know it. He clashes with Dazai because Dazai rejects meaning entirely, while Akutagawa desperately wants there to be meaning in strength, even if he doesn’t know what that meaning should be.

Also, your point about Dazai being "just a kid" when he recruited Akutagawa is super relevant and often overlooked (Which is one of the facts I really am passionate about, I've yappeed about it to my dear friend on vc for hours on multiple occassions, haha, I think im tiring him up with that at this point). People tend to analyze him as this all-knowing manipulator, but at the end of the day, he was still a teenager himself, shaped by the warped philosophy Mori instilled in him. It makes me wonder if Akutagawa and Dazai’s relationship is partly a case of generational trauma being passed down—Dazai brutalizes Akutagawa under the same logic Mori used on him, believing it to be "necessary." But just like Mori’s lessons didn’t help Dazai find meaning, Dazai’s "teachings" only left Akutagawa trapped in the same spiral of violence. (Which now that I actually think about, the cycle of abuse is not just the repetition of abusive behavior but also the projection of one's internalized self-perception onto another person, treating them in ways that reflect how the abused individual has learned to see and treat themselves as a result of their own experiences/abuse.)

Anyhow, I am always glad for those discussions, as they DO make me think a bit more deeply about how I analyze the story and characters as well, haha.

#BSD #bungou stray dogs #Bungo stray dogs #bsd akutagawa #bsd dazai #akutagawa ryuunosuke #ryuunosuke akutagawa #.txt #BSD ASK #ask #asks

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xarrixii · 6 months ago

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arri, writer in progress

cisgender, white, and pansexual/ace, though figure out what gender i am yourself cause i will use any pronouns (chaos)

flash/burn masterlist | pinned introduction post

i classify myself as a writer in the sorts that i am an aspiring author, and in progress in the sorts that i'm currently writing what i hope to be a published book someday.

most of it is available on tumblr in first-draft form. its name is FLASH/BURN, and i love it. (some of it is second-draft.)

name someone i talk to a lot and they'll probably agree i likely have some level of undiagnosed ADHD. i'm usually incredibly irregular, sporadic, and it's random whether i'm organized or in complete disorder.

i like to stay up super late (is this relevant?). i'm an adult citizen of the united states.

what kinds of books are you interested in?

genre-wise, i'm willing to read a lot as long as it's fiction. sci-fi, fantasy, lack of and presence of magic, action, adventure, thriller.

i think my favorite books fall along the lines of following characters more than they follow plots.

do you have any hobbies or interests outside of writing?

i had very long rhythm game and gacha phases, but i also enjoy a good SCP game or relaxed Minecraft server.

what font do you like to write in?

lora, point twelve. i started using it years ago and now it's hard to use anything else. it looks like this:

(excerpt from FLASH/BURN Chapter 45: "Operative")

where can i find your writing?

you can find anything i've wanted to post in public here, on my tumblr. i set up a wattpad for FLASH/BURN, but i haven't gotten around to uploading more than the first arc (chapter 1-22)

can i see some of your older writing?

sure! there's actually older versions of most of my WIPs in my Google Drive, and if you ever want to see some of what i consider my cringiest part of life, just ask. i'm open to messages and more open to my ask box (which you are allowed to remain anonymous in).

what's your music taste?

it's mostly a jumble of alternative rock music. Citizen Soldier and STARSET got me through the pandemic, and now i've begun listening to a few more better-known artists in roughly the same genre. (listen—rule number one is that it's all over the place.)

i have an entire playlist named after one character's music taste. i don't have to bother with another because it's one artist. the rest is vibes.

what themes are prevalent in your writing?

you're very likely to find a lot of found family, i think. possibly a ton of moral grey. lots of non-romance.

if you're looking more into FLASH/BURN's themes, both of the above apply. my good friend clove's attributed "coping mechanisms that no longer become useful." heavy trigger warnings for child abuse, extreme bigotry, suicide, and general mental health issues. Harlow goes through some shit.

what are some things you won't write?

you won't be finding NSFW-in-the-sexual-way content on this blog. i'm not really interested in it and frankly i don't want to write it because of that. i'm more than comfortable with torture, blood, gore, and horror, though i can't guarantee it'll be any good.

if you think i'm afraid to kill a major character, you're wrong, by the way. sorry.

can i send you a writing prompt?

oh fuck yeah. especially some hero/villain shit. let me experiment.

who are you inclusive of?

transgender people are welcome here. intersex people are welcome here. systems are welcome here. otherkin are welcome here. mental disabilities are welcome here. physical disabilities are welcome here. queer people are welcome here. aspec people are welcome here. fat people are welcome here. poc are welcome here. something something about you who is welcome here. women and men. everything fuckin' in between. just don't be an asshole and we're cool does that make sense??

i do not allow hate in this home, and let that include myself. hold me accountable.

something something about further questions, relate them to my secretary, of whom is myself and my tumblr askbox or private messages.

onwards with the WIP descriptions!

FLASH/BURN—

Harlow "Urban" Collins experienced the pyrokinetic rehabilitation and misuse clinics firsthand since he was seven. Since he awakened, it's been nothing but a constant stream of hatred. Alph "Raiden" Roy managed to build a trustworthy reputation despite their pyrokinesis and was about to begin police academy when an incident that could kill their best friend and implicate them in a felony upends their plans. A favor too many spirals both into the underground enforcement organization founded by Alph's family to pay it off—Cinder. Bad timing forces them into the clutches of a jump-started scramble to stop Storm's plans before Cinder's legal counterpart catches wind of its existence, even while life has to appear to resume like normal. Shit hits the fan.

#flash/burn #flash/burn shitposting

MONOALCHEMICAL

Vaughn Gray was accused of high treason and is one of the longest-running wanted criminals in the Kingdom of Graheathe. Heir to the Harkon Dukedom, Leon Brullen-Harkon is the first knight to successfully deliver the alchemist-sorcerer a permanent blow—and also the first one to need his help.

#monoalchemical:xarrixii

YELLOW IS FEAR

Fear was gifted the ability to wield an unruly piece of the magic plane and handed the trust of WKPD Captain Barrow McGlently. Fare Freundlichkeit thought that would be the biggest case her alter ego would ever need to go down, but that was before a strange, beak-masked “vigilante” kept pushing her away from the biggest slave trade Krusing had ever seen; and then swore his life to her.

#yellow is fear:xarrixii

HOLDING ANCHOR

Earwyn Sol wants nothing more than to be remembered, so when Captain Haze of Dead Water let him on board all those years ago, he finally thought he had the chance. After becoming the feared Second Lieutenant Cardinal, however, his chances hadn’t changed. Soren Auer is the sleepless Uchorian Sparrow translating fluently between the five common tongues and several ship communication encryptions just to keep the rest of his nine fingers, and also the inventor that offers himself hostage when Dead Water comes knocking.

#holding anchor:xarrixii

deadrail_

Atlas is the multi-skilled persona of tired code optimizer Sawyer Greene whose rules to meet with are very simple: no weapons, no murder, and he decides what jobs he'll take. Business as usual quickly turns into the unique job of somehow getting spoiled and dishonored Fujinaga Eiji to return to the Fujinaga succession line. To varying degrees of success.

#deadrail_xarrixii

Writemas

a writing game hosted by another tumblr user in december 2024 (@agirlandherquill). contains non-canon but adjacent content for Monoalchemical, Yellow is Fear, and Holding Anchor

looking for more? again i encourage you to ask me. i'll tell you all about the time i moderated for a roblox group or made some shitty play named "Melody" or whatever it was. the height of my gacha phase. who am i if not embarrassing the shit out of myself?

also if you want to see my gl2 rendition of flash/burn characters it either exists or can within like three hours

#introduction post #pinned post #queer writers #introductory post #pinned intro #blog intro #writers #writers on tumblr #writer #writeblr #how does one describe themselves #will likely be updated over time

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havendance · 2 years ago

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Batman for Dummies

Chapter 3: Starring NIGHTWING as the Cavalry

AO3: Chapter 3 | Read from the beginning

Fandom: Batman

Featured Characters/Relationships: Helena Bertinelli & Tim Drake, but look basically everyone shows up this chapter including, but not limited to: Dick, Barbara, Jean-Paul Valley, and Bruce too I guess.

Wordcount: 9100

Fic Summary:

In the aftermath of the quake that shook Gotham, Helena Bertinelli takes on the mantle of the Bat. (It isn’t like Batman’s using it.) If she’d known the cowl came with a certain moralizing little bird following her around — well, she probably still would’ve done it, but it would’ve been nice to know in advance. (Or: Tim and Helena team up 2: electric boogaloo. Now with more bats!)

We are back, baby! I got so much procrastination on my school projects done while editing this.

After two chapters of drama, it's time for something more chill and fun before we hit the endgame :)

Excerpt:

“Knock knock.”

Helena groaned and blinked. Someone was shining a flashlight in her face. At her side, Robby made some equally unhappy noises as he tried to pull the blanket over his head. It took Helena a second to wake up, but then it happened all at once. Someone else was there.

She kicked out, but her legs were still tangled in the blankets and the intruder easily dodged back.

Robby finally noticed something was wrong and sat up. “’Lena, what?” he said with a yawn. Then, more alert: “Nightwing?”

With the flashlight no longer shining in her eyes, Helena could see the black and blue costume she’d originally missed. She flicked on the LED lamp near the bed, and there he was, looking in far better shape than anyone inside the city had been in months. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“When did you get here?” asked Robby.

“To answer your questions: last night and I was sent to fetch you. B called a meeting,” Nightwing said.

Robby crossed his arms. “B knows what I think. You can tell him that sending you isn’t going to change that. No offense,” he tacked on apologetically.

Nightwing nodded. “So you’re both out then?

Helena exchanged a look with Robby. “Both?” she asked.

Nightwing shrugged. “He told me to get both of you.”

“Really?” she asked. “Because he was pretty clear on what he thought of me the last time we met.”

“Hey, I just got here.” Nightwing held up his hands. “I’m just telling you what he told me.”

Robby was looking to her. “Do you think he means it?”

Helena shrugged. “You know him better than I do, kid.”

“Well…” she could see the wheels in his head turning, “maybe. He did kind of try to apologize last time.” To Robin, not to the Bat. “I won’t go if you don’t,” he decided.

Helena turned back to Nightwing. “Who else is going to be at this meeting?”

“Me, Oracle, Azrael I think. It’s an all hands sort of thing.

So either she was actually included in that, or else he just wanted to chew her out in front of a larger audience. Helena knew she really shouldn’t get her hopes up; she’d been burned enough times before, but if he really was serious this time… Well, She never had completely managed to rid herself of the part of her that wanted for Batman to see her, to respect her. Though, admittedly, with the events of the past months, that part had gotten pretty small.

What were the options here? If they went and it turned out he was still an asshole, it’d be annoying, but she could just leave. A waste of morning at worst. But if they didn’t go and it turned out he was serious… Helena was honestly a little surprised that Robin had stuck with her this long. He'd been the only thing keeping her from spilling blood all over his precious bat symbol and he’d still chewed out Batman for her in the end. If Batman was serious, she owed it to the kid to at least give it a try. She knew he didn’t like being at odds with Batman, for all he was willing to be.

“We’ll come,” she said.

“Where are we going?” Robby asked.

“Clocktower,” Nightwing said. “I figured I’d come along with you once you got suited up.”

“How long until we need to be there?” Helena asked.

He shrugged. “Sooner’s better. It starts whenever everyone shows up.

She probably wouldn’t have been able to get back to sleep anyway. Helena stood up and stretched. “Well then, let a woman have her privacy?”

Robby dragged Nightwing out the door.

She could hear them talking in the other room as she stripped off her sleepwear and pulled on the Batsuit.

“You had me worried, you know,” Nightwing said.

“Really?” Robby asked.

“Yeah, I had to hear from O that you were hanging out in No Man’s Land.”

“Oh.” A pause. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Really? You come by every other week to bother me. Of course I’m going to notice when you stop. Then you stop answering your phone and of course I’m worried.”

“Um, I’m sorry?”

A snort, probably from Nightwing. Helena could empathize. “Punk. So, you and Huntress?”

“She’s the Bat,” Robby said automatically. Then, more suspicious: “And what do you mean?”

“I’m just saying, after all that shit you gave me for letting her see my face, where do I find you?”

“It’s not— I’m not— It’s practical!” Robby sputtered. “I’ve known her for longer! And there’s only one bed!”

“Sure, kid.”

“You agreed we weren’t going to bring that up!”

“I’m just saying…”

The conversation devolved into scuffling. Helena pulled on her mask and went around to the doorway. Robin was only half-way suited up and Nightwing had him in a headlock.

She coughed. “So, are we going?”

Nightwing let Robin go and he hurried to finish putting on his tunic. “I’m ready,” he said and headed to the exit.

Nightwing turned to her. “Ladies first,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, but headed for the door.

#helena bertinelli #tim drake #barbara gordon #no man's land #batman: no man's land #my fic #havendance writes #batman for dummies #advancing the tim & helena agenda #the cooler gotham antihero #carthago delenda est #dc #bats + birds + affiliated #dick grayson #last of the flying graysons

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thetruthisoutthereandbeyond · 5 months ago

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Plagiarism Timeline

This whole situation has been gnawing at me. At the risk of upsetting both authors, I want to present what I've found to hopefully prevent this from happening to Mercedes Aria again and other writers in the Boy Meets World fandom. I do not think anyone should get away with hurting people, even online over fanfiction.

If nothing else, the truth is now out there. Everything in my article is public knowledge and can be found with little effort by anyone with internet access and time. You do not need a Tumblr account or Reddit or AO3 or FFN accounts, either.

I have not spoken to either author. My reasons for not doing so are in the full article.

-DS

---

Excerpt from Looking into Plagiarism: Reunification and MrsFizzle-a case of Boy Meets World Plagiarism or not?

There is this comment on Reunification on AO3 that really stood out to me:

So, the “original” character who ends up marrying Jonathan Turner and becomes Shawn’s mother is so like MA’s OC Audrey that a reader got them confused?

I find MrsFizzle’s response very odd.

To begin with, MrsFizzle left out that she knew MA and talked to her (see further down). This wasn’t, in the words of the incredible Bob Ross, “a happy accident”. When I investigated this, it’s apparent MrsFizzle read Autumn in Philadelphia and Flashbacks before deciding to write a long fic and include an OC for it. I’ll get to how I know that in a minute.

Note: I should mention that pairing this canon character with a love interest, much less an OC, is rare. At the time MrsFizzle was writing there were only two other stories I could find with an OC love interest. Neither OC was anything like these two and would not be confused for them or each other. And those were also written during the same period. At least one of those stories started before MA returned to writing and before MrsFizzle began writing.

In her big comment on chapter 20 of Autumn in Philadelphia before claiming never to have read the main story “in time”, MrsFizzle says:

Then you started writing the flashbacks, and I read a couple of those. I read “a boy and his (teacher’s) motorcycle” and I was absolutely sold. I loved the world you had created, and I loved Audrey. Then I read the sick fic, and I died laughing. I fell deeper in love with this little family. So I came over to read this one. And wow, did it ever deliver. Your version of Jon’s wife was so much better than the one I was creating.

• The first chapter of Flashbacks was published on September 8th on FFN and on the 11th on AO3.

• The first chapter of Reunification was published on September 14th, 2022.

• MrsFizzle’s first comment on MA’s work was on chapter 2 of Flashbacks also on September 14th, 2022.

• The above comment on Autumn in Philadelphia was made on October 15, 2022 (the first comment on this story was October 14th).

• The OC that was mistaken for MA’s Audrey did not appear until November 9th, 2022.

Her replies to deleted comments on the first story she wrote for the fandom indicate that in August she had no plans for a long fic. On her story, Not Buddies, in a comment dated August 19th, 2022, she says:

Oh wow, I had never seen the show before, a friend recommended it to me.

Good question! Obviously, I’m going to finish this one, and I have a one shot in the works, but I don’t know other than that. I just really like the dynamic between Jon and Shawn. The show left me craving so much more of it.

The conversation continues and, in another response, she says:

…Either way, I will probably write at least a handful more stories in this world.

When the first chapter of Reunification was published it bore no similarities to Autumn in Philadelphia. The similarities I see to MA’s story begin with Ashley’s introduction and it’s from there that the entire tone of the story changes. Based on these dates, MrsFizzle absolutely could have changed the name of her OC and made changes so that she stood apart from MA’s OC, but MrsFizzle chose not to.

If you look at the date of the comment in the screenshot, it’s January 19th, 2023. I can only assume MrsFizzle thought no one would investigate this and see that her own date stamped comments catch her lying to this reader. It then makes it difficult to believe that all the similarities between the two characters were coincidental because MrsFizzle herself tells us she read MA’s story first.

#plagiarism #fanfiction #fanfiction plagiarism #plagiarizing #anti plagiarism #boy meets world #boy meets world fanfiction #mrsfizzle #superman #smallville #supernatural #Ao3 #ffn.net #shawn hunter #Kaylie Night #mercedes aria

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freyaegall · 9 months ago

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Haunted (AO3 fanfic, rated Explicit, currently ~221K words) Chapter 20

Astarion x female!reader

Chapter 20 summary: You find out not all goblins are entirely incompetent, and you also end up accidentally getting a taste of someone's nightmares. While you become distracted yet again, your companions find what you seek, and you have to rely on yourself when things - as usual - go awry.

Tags include: Smut and lots of it, angry sex, rough sex, angst, blood drinking, vampire bites during smut, Dom/sub (Dom Astarion), public/semi-public smut, consensual throat fucking, canon-typical Astarion violence, action/adventure, kind of a slow romance burn, exploration of dark canon issues, BG3 spoilers, who needs sleep I'd just dream of Astarion anyways, spanking, shower smut, use of a makeshift gag, a lil backdoor play, orgasm delay/denial, edging, cockwarming, under the table throat fucking, invisible throat fucking, tabletop 69, thigh riding

Haunted - Chapter 20 - IntoTheGallifray - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

Excerpt from Chapter 20 (NSFW):

----

Thinking abruptly becomes impossible when his tongue slides against yours and he digs his fingers into the back of your thigh, roughly hooking your leg over his hip. It makes the hole in your leggings tear just a little bit more, but you find you don't even care. He presses in harder, grinding against the part of you that's always ready and aching for him.

Your body responds faster than your mind these days and you're becoming more and more inclined to let it. Dangerous thoughts, probably. But what does that matter when every stroke of his lips, every connection between his body and yours makes you feel like you're so very alive. Ironic, isn't it?

But irony has no place among the fire and need he's currently stoking within you – just as the rest of the world falls away, leaving only you and Astarion.

Each roll of his hips has his bulge dragging against your centre, making the wet fabric of your underwear create a delicious friction over your needy flesh. You could probably get off within minutes if he keeps this up; less if he keeps nipping your lip like that. He must know it, because he tightly grips your hair and tugs your head back as he moves his hips faster.

"I know that look on your face, pet..." The breath from his words plumes against your lips.

"I-I... mm!" Your voice shakes when a tremor rips through you – one signalling how close you are. "I'm gonna come!"

A strangled noise sounds in your throat as he comes to an abrupt halt, with a very scolding eyebrow angled in your direction. "Are you telling me, love?"

You bite your lip hard enough to draw a bit of blood, every part of you painfully keyed up. You didn't used to get this antsy this quickly – perhaps it's a result of his lessons in patience.

"F-Fuck..." Your inhale is more ragged than fortifying. "Please can I come, Sir?"

"That's better, darling." He raises his leg until his knee is pressed against the stone just below the apex of your thighs. "Remember, your orgasms belong to me."

Another more definitive declaration. Still not a fully encompassing one, but it feels like you're just a hop, skip, and a jump away from it. Not to mention this particular one almost pushes you to climax right there.

But he still hasn't given you explicit permission, and as he opens his mouth with the hint of a smirk, you know he's not going to make it easy.

When he grips your hip and pulls you down to straddle his thigh, you're proven quite correct. "If you want to come that badly, then you can ride my thigh. But nothing else." You whimper as you need to slide down his leg a little in order to properly brace your feet, and it provides some much-needed friction. His murmur in your ear has you rocking your hips: "Prove how much you need me."

----

#astarion #astarion baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x oc #astarion x you #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 smut #bg3 astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 smut #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #smutty fanfiction

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iwriteasfotini · 10 months ago

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OLIWITS Excerpt from TBOF Chapter I

Excerpt from Our Love is Written in the Stars: The Bonds of Friendship, Chapter I - Just Another Summer Day

(Continued from this Excerpt)

“Get off me,” grunted James, shoving Sirius who scrambled back. But as James went to stand Sirius caught hold of his foot and yanked hard, sending James back to the floor with a cry of outrage.

“Am'mā! Get him off!”

But Sirius had already stood, and was smoothing back his hair. James kicked him in the shin.

“Ow! Wanker!” Sirius clutched at his leg.

“Sirius, please watch your language at the table.”

“Mrs P, as you can see I’m not actually -”

But James watched as if an invisible line was pulling Sirius forward by his torso, into a chair, and right up to the edge of the table.

“You were saying?” His mother was smiling fondly. “When we had James I never envisioned I’d be parenting two teenage boys.”

“Morning am'mā.” James walked around the table and gave his am'mā a peck on the cheek.

“See Sirius, James knows how to treat his mother.”

Sirius bustled from his chair and gave Euphemia a peck on the cheek as well. “Morning Effie.”

“You are a dear, Sirius,” Effie said, patting his cheek.

James, who was fixing himself a cup of tea at the sidebar, made gagging sounds. And Sirius elbowed him in the back as he passed, causing James to spill half his cuppa.

“Oi!” But Lark was already underfoot, and then the spilled tea was gone as was the elf.

“Sit down boys, sit down. Eat something. You are skin and bones.”

“Not me,” James announced proudly. “I’ll have you know Frank said I was looking fit when we saw him at the Wasp’s match last week.”

“Frank has always had a secret crush on you mate,” laughed Sirius.

“Not ‘fit,’ fit!” James flexed his biceps.

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Be patient boys, you’ll both fill out soon enough. I remember back when Monty -”

“Are you sure you want to finish that thought love?” Fleamont Potter strode into the dining room, adjusting the buttons of his kurta.

“Nīṅkaḷ evvaḷavu valimaiyāka iruntīrkaḷ eṉpataip paṟṟi nāṉ ciṟuvarkaḷiṭam collikkoṇṭiruntēṉ.” I was just telling the boys how strong you used to be.

“Payaṉpaṭuttappaṭṭatā?” Used to be?

Effie gave her husband a smirk.

“Nāṉ mikavum olliyāka irukkiṟēṉ eṉkiṟār am'mā,” James whined. Mum says I am too skinny.

“You are teenage boys. You are supposed to be all knees and elbows,” chuckled Monty.

“Maṟṟum pātaṅkaḷ,” Effie added.

“Yes, and feet.” Monty kissed his wife’s cheek and grabbed his robes. “I’m off to the ministry today boys. Be good for your mother.”

James gave Sirius a withering look. But Sirius was looking rather pleased.

Soon they had both consumed enough breakfast fare to feed the average adult for an entire day. They skipped from the table and out into the back garden of the Potter’s estate.

James loved this house. Mostly because they had several acres of land which included a bit of woodland area where Monty had constructed a quidditch practice field. The goal hoops were only half the height of regulation hoops, and there was only a single set, but it was better than nothing. Best of all, there were wards and glamours on the entire wood, so James could fly about twenty feet above the treetops before the ward halted his progress.

There was a little broom shed tucked in the trees, which is where he and Sirius were currently headed at a run.

James grabbed his Nimbus and Sirius grabbed James’ old broom, a Comet 220. They sailed into the air letting out joyful whoops. James did a couple of loop-de-loops to let off some steam before charging at Sirius and initiating a game of chase. Sirius, who loved to fly, wasn’t as keen on drilling quidditch plays with the quaffle, so James always made sure they had plenty of fun before he asked him to help with skills practice.

“What do you think Remus and Pete are doing today?” said Sirius as they glided next to each other in a large circle around the clearing.

“Probably not this,” James smiled.

“Nah, neither of them even own a broom.”

“Because they hate flying.”

“I think Remus is warming to it,” Sirius said, laying back on the broom and gazing at the sky. James had practiced the trick with him for the first few weeks of summer and he knew Sirius was itching to show it off to the other boys.

“You can scare his pants off if you bring that broom to Hogwarts this year,” said James, nodding in Sirius’ direction. “We can go flying on proper brooms for once, not those dinosaurs they call school brooms.”

“Dinosaurs? Have you been reading muggle books?”

“Har har, mister hypothermia. I know Remus is sending you his cast offs.”

“Too true, I recently read one about a kid who wants to climb a mountain.”

“Like climbing a tree?” James asked, he too lay back on his broom. The trick was to be able to steer with very little visual guidance, which when flying in a fairly gentle leftwards angle wasn’t too hard.

“Nah, like walking, with boots, and ropes, and other tools.”

“Why would anyone want to do that, you could fly up there, easy peasy. Or even better, apparate to the top!”

“Muggles can’t. Apparently it’s a big deal for them. They go on all sorts of grand adventures. Sleep in tents and cook over fires. It’s very macho.”

“My cousins in India go on grand adventures hunting for Occamy. They try to snatch its eggs, because the shells are made of silver. In fact, I think I had a great uncle or something who died when an Occamy attacked him. Bet muggles don’t often face down vicious beasts on their adventures.”

“Thank you mister I-will-always-one-up-you-Potter.” Sirius tsk’d. “I wish we could fly farther, I like going fast. But in a straight line.”

“We can at Hogwarts. The grounds are far bigger. Bring the broom, go on.”

James could practically hear Sirius’ eye roll. It wasn’t charity, really. James knew Sirius’ family could afford to buy him an entire quidditch team if he wanted. But they weren’t likely to pass him any favors anytime soon. Sirius had wanted a broom for two years, the one he was riding was never even used anymore.

“If you don’t bring it, I’m having dad put an undetectable extension charm on my trunk and I’ll pack it anyway.”

Sirius huffed, “fine.” But when James glanced over at him, he could see Sirius was smiling.

Flying lasted all morning. James only made Sirius drill for an hour and a half, which he felt was rather generous. Sirius seemed to think it was about eighty minutes too long and whinged constantly, even though he continued to practice drop passes, and reverse passes, and even played keeper for the last fifteen minutes.

“You know,” said James as they walked back up to the house, “you really aren’t half bad at actually playing. You could go out for the team if you -”

“You pull this on me everyday Potter. No is no. I can’t risk my face being bashed in by a bludger. What would all my admirer’s think?” Sirius asked, taking his hair out of the bun he wore while flying and shaking it out.

James wolf-whistled.

“Girls love quidditch players, it will add to your bravado.”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And boys, they love quidditch players too.”

Sirius scoffed, and James held up his hands in innocence.

“Did you really snog someone last year?” James had been trying to get this information out of Sirius since their first day at the Potter’s house but Sirius was adamantly refusing to share details. It took James three weeks of wearing him down before Sirius even admitted that he had kissed one person, one time, but he wouldn’t say who it was.

“But it was nothing, it didn’t mean anything,” Sirius had argued. “So it really doesn’t matter who it was.”

And although James didn’t actually care who Sirius had snogged, it was more the principle of the thing. Not to mention, they had had a bet on about who would kiss a girl first. Sirius had retracted the bet at the beginning of second year, and it was for this reason James was suspicious of the gender of the person Sirius had been kissing. It wasn’t like him to back out of a bet, but James wasn’t stupid. He had never heard Sirius make a comment about finding a girl attractive. Sirius rarely made comments about finding anyone attractive, which was ironic because practically the entire school thought they were in love with him. If they knew how bad he farted after eating curry every night… but James sighed internally, he doubted even that would deter the rampant Sirius Black obsession.

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” James said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Blimey they really were rather boney, weren’t they?

“Don’t hold your breath,” replied Sirius. But he slung his arm around James’ shoulders. Living exclusively with Sirius and having no formal schedule of classes to attend, James had learned a few things about his best friend which he hadn’t known. First, Sirius was extremely touchy. James always knew he was on the touchy feely side. Sirius loved to wrestle and be tickled, shoved, and even sat on, all in the nature of good fun of course. But it was like Sirius couldn’t not touch someone if it was allowed. He always sat right next to James on the couch so their sides were pressed together. He always bumped knees or arms when sitting at the table. He always ended up skin to skin with James in bed. James didn’t really mind, but when he brought it up, Sirius acted like he didn’t even realize it was happening. So James dropped it.

The second thing he learned was Sirius needed a family, and as his own family was total shite James had privately encouraged his parents to incorporate Sirius into their family as organically and enthusiastically as possible. Seeing Sirius light up when Effie and Monty treated him as lovingly and with as much care as they did James, made James’ heart swell. Sirius would never, ever admit to enjoying the attention. James was certain of this. And James would never, ever admit he had told his parents to lay it on heavy. Sirius was happy, which made James happy, and that was all anyone needed to know.

The final thing was Sirius really, and truly farted like an Erumpant on a diet of primarily Indian cuisine.

…

Next week, look for an excerpt (plus title, POV, and posting date) from Book 4. Daily posting will begin on AO3 on February 14 :)

Check on the weekly posting/writing status update here!

#marauders #fanfic #marauders era #james potter #our love is written in the stars #sirius black #fleamont potter #euphemia potter #platonic prongsfoot #harry potter #dead gay wizards from the 70s #sirius orion black #james fleamont potter #desi james potter

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thewatercolours · 6 months ago

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3, 7, 13, 15 for the EOY writer post?

3. Did you achieve everything you wanted to this year?

I was pleased with the number of oneshots I shared, and time I spent investing in my imagination, and the care I put into drafting my multichapter, "Path of Kingship." I certainly had a number of plans that fell through, of course, honestly I'd be a bit bit disappointed with the scope of my plans if I didn't dream bigger than I could actually accomplish!

Some plans that didn't play included properly reviving my dormant original novel, The Brilliant Hour (it's been sitting at roughly 70k for an age, and it's a delicate dance between remaining open to the fact I haven't entirely scrapped it, and preventing it from being a roadblock to other creativity because I can't let it go.) I did a lot of concept work on a new fiction about a high seas-based monastic order and a kidnapped royal, but the timing didn't seem to be right for it. I hoped I would finish "Path of Kingship" before the year was out, but it's still in progress. Well, some of these may still be groundwork for the future, and for those that weren't? Well, I enjoyed them anyhow.

7. What are three songs you put on your WIP-playlist this year?

A song from the Path of Kingship playlist: "Stronger" by Ellie Holcomb. The moment I heard the lyrics I could feel the resonance with Graham's arc from terrified newbie to confident leader.

A song from The Brilliant Hour playlist: Tried to rebuild this playlist from memory. I had an expansive playlist for this novel on Itunes before my account locked me out. I'm sorry to lose all the ones I've forgotten, but some songs are indelibly linked to story, and come to mind immediately. One is "Marrakesh Night Market" by Loreena McKennitt, which had a heavy hand in inspiring the opening chapter.

A song from Anders Solmor's playlist (Saltmarsh - not a traditional wip since it's from my rpg campaign with my brother - but I do so much writing for it and approach it so much like a writing project it counts): This feels ridiculous, and I'll add that I'm not a Swiftie. But I found a string quartet version of "Look What You Made Me Do" that's going to be perfect for Anders once he has his realization. Having a traditional-sounding instrumental version fits the Saltmarsh vibe, but in my head I can hear the words. I'm delighting myself with the double meaning of the refrain lyric if I associate it with Anders. He was made to do so much without even realizing it - and when he finds out that knowledge might make him do something quite different.

13. How did you change as a writer? Did you learn anything new? Started to plan instead of pants? Share your wisdom!

Other than what I've mentioned in another ask - let's see. I continue to fight the good fight to trim back my prose's tendency to indulgence and purple. I don't know if I got any better at it, but I was more ruthless in intention at least! I also found it helped me to consciously decide when a work was something I wanted to polish to the best of my ability vs when it was just a "doodle." I do believe in putting one's best foot forward and developing one's skills, and the works that mean a lot to me deserve to have my best effort. But sometimes it's ok to dash something off as a little connection with the two or three people who read my work, especially the King's Quest stuff, and not agonize over perfection. So I guess, I gave myself permission both to truly throw myself heart and soul into the good stories, and to say, "Ah, it has Graham in it. They'll probably like it" for the doodles. (Is this a sound philosophy? I don't know, but it seems good for me at least in this chapter of my life.)

15.Time for shameless self-promotion! answer with a piece of writing you want others to see/read! (if you have nothing posted/published this year, any other year is fine too ^^)

If you want a tiny taste of my original fiction, or just something really short, here's an excerpt that stands OK on its own: "The Ungentleman." Pseudo-eighteenth century world, mainly focused on a fun dynamic between the two mains desperately imbibing sweets before they commit themselves to a situation where there probably won't be any sweets.

If you want a taste of my fanfiction, "Path of Kingship" stands okay on its own, regardless of whether you know King's Quest. The upshot is that a guy who never expected to be king finds himself on the throne, and tries on different approaches to his new position like boots. Some zaniness but also introspection.

#Thank you for the ask! You're an awesome writer and it's kind of you.

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wandaluvstacos · 1 year ago

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SEASON OF BLOSSOMS

THE THIRD CHAPTER IS UP! (It’s FREE)

Genre: Fantasy Romance Rating: 18+ Elevator Pitch: Bridgerton, but gay and with tieflings. Check out this story’s art under the tag Season of Blossoms

Includes: Mxm, mxf, and nbxm romance, sibling rivalries, romantic drama, fun sexy hijinks all around. This one’s lighter than most of the stuff I write, lol. There is a scene that takes place after an attempted suicide, but I think that’s the only thing that needs to be warned for.

In the nation of Tithly, it is custom that those of marriageable age travel to the city of Philsia for the yearly Season of Blossoms– four summer months of parties meant to provide youth the opportunity to find their spouse. This year will be the first year that all three of the Tsylgahra siblings attend: Mithleem, Anli, and Lisanth.

Three years after his wife’s tragic death, Mithleem has finally decided that he’s ready to start his search for someone new. As one of the top people in his class at the Academy and a successful doctor during his time in the army, he’s a household name and a hot commodity at parties, including one thrown by Tithly’s most renowned painter. There Mithleem is called to the bedside of the painter’s equally famous spouse, Ysaika Talorilau, and it may take someone of Mithleem’s skill to save their life.

Anli’s been to Philsia three times for the Season, but she hasn’t had much luck. This time she meets a young man above her station who shows interest, and despite her misgivings, she’s willing to give him a shot, even if the family’s new steward, Thyla Daschanhildi is quite insistent that Anli deserves better. Anli’s not sure about that, but she knows that Thyla’s only ever been supportive and loyal, sometimes to such a degree that Anli wonders if there’s more to it.

As the youngest Tsylgahra and wild child of the family, Lisanth is interested in racing horses, starting squabbles in the local tavern, and worrying his parents on the nights he doesn’t come home. However, he knows he can’t put off Philsia forever, and at the insistence of his mother, Lisanth grudgingly makes the journey with his siblings to the City in the Sky. There he meets a stranger who wields charm with just a hint of danger. Only later does Lisanth come to realize that the stranger is in fact a prince– Prince Jafkar A’nesh to be exact.

Excerpt:

Anli chuckled and rolled her eyes before her attention was caught by another stepping through the front door. It was not the elderly Sir Gasil but someone in a similar uniform of black boots, dark brown trousers, tweed vest, and puffy-sleeved white shirt underneath. Sir Gasil’s wardrobe always looked about three stitches away from falling apart, but this woman—person?—looked much younger and much sharper in it. She looked like a woman and her silhouette implied as much, but she was probably as tall as Mithleem, if not more so, and she had the strong shoulders of someone who labored regularly. Her deep violet complexion clashed with the shocking pale lilac of her hair, which was curiously cut short in a fashion Anli had not seen on many others. She had horns rooted above each ear that curved upward, which, combined with her purple skin, made Anli think she was Tavuli, a group of people from a mountainous and hard-to-reach region just outside Tithly’s southern border.

The woman headed down the steps and opened the wrought iron gate to join the crowd. When Mrs. Harpum spotted her, she let out a little oh! before rushing to the newcomer’s side and pushing her in front of Anli’s mother.

“This is Thyla Daschinhildi, the steward you wanted me to hire! She comes with impeccable references and served in our armed services during the war as a corporal.”

Thyla bowed to Anli’s mother. “It’s an honor to meet you, Madam Tsylandar. I know I can’t replace Sir Gasil, but I wish to assist you in any way I can.”

“Oh my, aren’t you…” Anli’s mother cut herself off before giving Thyla a quick once-over. “You’re very tall.”

Thyla smiled in a way that seemed genuine. “You’re not the only one who has thought so.”

#Season of Blossoms #patreon #excerpt #my writing #update #anyone wanna read a story with a tall butch lady???

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aohendo · 1 year ago

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Prince for Hire Deleted Scenes: Part 13

Amount Deleted: 8k? thereabouts (1 half-formed chapter + 1/3rd of the following chapter, + most of another chapter which'll probably get added back in but was in the wrong spot and I haven't determined if there's a right spot yet)

Reason for Deleting: the deleted chapter could be condensed into a few paragraphs and the information, overall, completely redistributed and better integrated into the story. The third of the following chapter was then covered by the newly integrated stuff. That following chapter also received major rearrangement due to the focus being completely scattered.

Ways to fix: cut and paste, cut and paste, delete. Really: determine scene-level focus, then chapter-level focus, restructure this storyline's mini-arc (to include rearranging chapters), and combine/condense to keep the plot moving.

Excerpt length: 487

Context: Kiris needs to eliminate one of Prince Thaav's enemies, and thinks sending Iiriok at him is the best way about it (he's not wrong...)

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @whimsyqueen @on-noon @houndsofcorduff @stuffaboutwriting @shrunkupthejams

“Nelovskevouk,” Kiris said, loud enough he was sure ni Musyr could overhear. Verosa refilled his tea. A different type, this time: lavender. “What would you do if you discovered a prince had sinned?”

Nelovskevouk nearly choked on his next sip of coffee. He hid it by clearing his throat—which is to say, not at all—and by taking another large sip to clear the crud. His brow slowly rose.

Innocently, Kiris rolled his mug between his palms. Ni Musyr glowered at them. At him.

“Why do you ask?” Nelovskevouk eventually said, when Kiris wasn’t forthcoming with more information, too preoccupied with not making eye contact with ni Musyr. It was all consuming. Whatever he’d done to piss her off—or whatever Nazvili had done—he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. “Yphant?”

“Answer him, vakon,” ni Musyr ordered.

Kiris wished he couldn’t feel the blood draining from his face. The collective of princes was easier to face than her. Even the inquisitors—at least he knew why they hated him. “I… may or may not have overheard another prince—” it was like being ground by a glacier—“doing things?”

“Really?” Her eyes narrowed, and she leant forwards, and Kiris, again, leant back. Not so far that he tilted over his chair this time. “What sorts of things?”

This wasn’t his plan. Her involvement was not in his plans, except as witness. Nelovskevouk’s, yes. Let him eliminate Tevez for a prince’s sin. He was reliable, Kiris and Nelovskevouk’s younger sister, Kuthri, the only exceptions Kiris knew of. But ni Musyr? He didn’t know her. He didn’t know what she would do.

It was almost thrilling.

“Desiccation,” Kiris lied.

Nelovskevouk spun in his seat, and Kiris found himself quite suddenly bearing the brunt of the entirety of his attention. He had lovely eyes. This was already turning into a very tiring day.

“Who?” Nelovskevouk demanded.

For some reason, Kiris didn’t particularly want to look away from him. Ni Musyr was like being ground down, pummeled and pulverized, an unrelenting pressure. Nelovskevouk… wasn’t.

Prince Thaav would die soon.

Kiris glanced at Tevez.

“One of Prince Thaav’s enemies,” ni Musyr said. Smiled. “One of your allies, Pretty Boy. Curious.”

Nelovskevouk ignored her. He leant into Kiris’ space, and Kiris resisted the urge to pull away, too many people, too close to his space, easy to grab, this was fine, it’d be fine—

“You’re certain?” Nelovskevouk whispered. “First Prince Tevez has never been anything but decent and wise, in all the years I’ve known him. Did you… did you mishear?”

He smelled like flowers. Soaps, not the sharp scent of perfume. Sweat, too: those two weeks Kiris had spent in the Dargoulvga palace, helping Nelovskevouk with Kuthri, every morning he’d practiced on the training grounds; perhaps it did the same here. Weapons—yes—but sometimes, dance.

Iiriok Nelovskevouk was an excellent dancer.

“I know what I heard,” Kiris whispered.

#the real magic of prince is how few times i've misspelled 'Nelovskevouk'#'iiriok' is much easier to type but kiris doesn't start calling him that until much later #'kiris' also more often than not ends up as 'kriis'#pfh edits #princeforhire #pfh deleted scenes #writblr #writerblr #fantasy

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melles1276 · 2 years ago

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I'd like to hear your POV

So, my fellow FF-writers out there ... I need your advice. How do you handle POVs?

Do you write per chapter? Or do you change the POV per section? Or do you split the chapter into two POVs?

Personally, I prefer to write entire chapters with just one POV. But I'm stuck at the moment because I started a chapter with a POV (Sam Wilson), but now I just have to insert a few lines from another POV (Bucky Barnes). Normally I wouldn't do that, but it would be kind of fitting. However, I'm afraid that this way (two POVs in one chapter) might be confusing.

Let me give you an example.

Here is an excerpt of my story:

POV Sam:

“Seems so,” Steve smiled briefly. "And what's next?"

“You heard Johnson - he's going to call the bank. “Probably to negotiate with the hostage takers.”

At that moment two more large police trucks pulled up. This time the letters “S.W.A.T.” could be read on the side walls.

Sam knew what that meant - if negotiations failed, the S.W.A.T. team would be called in. And they weren't exactly squeamish and didn't shy away from breaking in with armed force. A quick glance at Steve told him that his buddy was probably thinking the same thing.

“The way Bucky put it, these two are serious opponents.”

***

POV Bucky:

The mood in the bank had become a bit sour after Bucky's solo effort. Ahab and Ismael still seemed overwhelmed by the situation. Bucky had heard snippets of words from the distance several times. Apparently they were now planning to make a ransom demand. But that alone wouldn't help. The two also needed an escape vehicle and had to rely on the cooperation of the police. The discussion became more heated, but none of the suggestions about how to best get out of here sounded convincing to Bucky.

Ismael also expressed his displeasure at being hungry.

Bucky rolled his eyes, although he secretly knew that sooner or later they would have to provide people with food and water if they wanted to prevent a riot.

Then the ringing of the telephone in the headquarters broke through and immediately the tense atmosphere was back. Nobody moved. All eyes were on the device, which was ringing incessantly. The ringing sound rang countless times and seemed to get louder each time.

“Maybe someone should answer it?” Bucky asked no one in particular.

“The fuck we will do!” Ismael sucked in a breath.

***

POV Sam:

Sam thought. There weren't many options for freeing the hostages unharmed if there was no negotiation result. He didn't get any further with his thoughts because Sergeant Silva came towards them.

“Johnson wants to talk to you.”

When they entered the command car for the second time, there was still a hustle and bustle inside.

Johnson got straight to the point: “I made inquiries about Barnes. He’s a trained sniper?”

Steve didn't answer straight away, but looked briefly at Sam. “What are you trying to get at, Captain?”

"If we manage to smuggle a weapon into the bank-"

“Whoa!” Sam interrupted. “Since when have civilians been used to eliminate hostage takers?”

“Barnes is a Sergeant in the Army. He knows his way around weapons. We could use that to our advantage.”

“Buck is no longer in the military,” Steve clarified.

“Okay, then he’s a veteran. That doesn’t change the fact that he could be helpful to us.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if the whole thing was solved without force of arms? How did the conversation with the hostage takers go?” Sam wanted to know.

“No one answered,” Johnson had to admit. “Hence our consideration of including Barnes.”

“Shouldn’t you get some perspective before you think about using firearms?” Steve interjected. “What do we know about the hostage takers?”

“At the moment…nothing yet. We are in the process of evaluating the video recordings, but so far there are not many clues because the two are masked and deactivated the surveillance cameras shortly after the storm,” Johnson replied angrily.

“And what about the getaway vehicle?”

“It was found abandoned a few streets away and is currently being examined by forensics.”

"In other words," Sam said, "you're left empty-handed and someone else should fix it now."

Johnson narrowed his eyes at him. "We still have Plan B. The S.W.A.T. team is currently positioning itself on the roof and will then move further inside."

What do you think?

#follower power #fanfiction #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writers advice #my pov #fanfic #pov in fanfics #bucky barnes #captain america #tfatws

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constellationandcompendium · 1 year ago

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ROYGBP

Thanks for the tag @theeccentricraven!

Rules: Search your writing for the colors of the rainbow and post the excerpt.

These are all from It All Falls Down, my chaotic spy/thriller with cyberpunk themes (which is very much still a first drat!)

Please note: these excerpts includes references to drug use and addiction.

Red - so, Sebastian's daughter is an adrenaline junkie in the making and Elias has a motorcycle.

“Look it’s fine, really, I’m not getting anywhere with this.” Sebastian sighed. “If you’re sure.” “And I’ve got to maintain my position as favourite honorary uncle somehow.” That earned him a smile. “Fair enough.” Elias shut down everything carefully, deleting any remaining evidence of his activities from the server. When he stood, it was to chorus of cracks from his back that made Sebastian wince in sympathy. He was regretting not running through the stretches after their bout earlier, he wasn’t a young man anymore. Grabbing his coat and the small, bright red helmet that lived at the bottom of his locker for precisely one purpose gave him a chance to stretch the sore muscles out further. Then Sebastian caught sight of the object in his hands and groaned. “You should have thought of that before you agreed,” Elias said, swinging the straps between his fingers and revelling in the disgruntled sounds his colleague was making. “I hate you,” Sebastian grumbled. “No you don’t,” Elias called back as he left.

Orange - in which Elias battles a gunshot wound

Flipping the catches open, the first aid box fell open and he fumbled through the packets one handed, pressing the other against his side in a vain attempt to apply pressure. Fighting against the light-headedness that was making itself known, his mouth formed the words of half-remembered prayers. His fingers closed around a familiarly shaped package with a spongy texture and he could only hope that the Buearu had kept their stocks up to date. There was morphine too, but he didn’t want to have to resort to that unless he had no other choice so he kept digging. There, right at the bottom of the bag, was a wrapped syringe identified as a painkiller by the standard orange label. Although it took his eyes a second to focus on it, he was relieved to see that it was one of the non-narcotics. Hardly strong or long lasting but it would have to do.

Yellow - featuring Sebastian experiencing life in the Undercity

Sebastian waited for his partner to take a few more drags before he pocketed the lighter and move to lean against the rail beside him, gaze fixed on the lights illuminating the square in a clashing mixture of bright neons and the dull yellow of simulated dusk. “Better?” he finally asked. “Not really,” Elias said with another puff. Sebastian tracked the progress of the lit cigarette out of the corner of his eye, “Should you really be smoking so soon after a Res shot?” “Probably not,” Elias admitted, examining the smoking bundle of chemicals in his hand. Though, Sebastian mused, it was hardly as though one more drug in the messy cocktail that was his partner's bloodstream was going to kill him, at least not straight away.

Green - from chapter one, Elias meets the spooks of the Bureau

“Sure, my office is out the back.” He indicated over his shoulder at the doors behind him, distinct only from the other entrances and exits by the small ‘staff only’ sign illuminated in flickering green. “Excellent,” Hugo replied, gesturing for Elias to lead the way. His office wasn’t much to look at; it was hardly nicer than the rest of the gym. It wasn’t run-down, exactly, but much like the building itself it had the tired, worn, and rain-damaged look that characterised the area close to the storm.

Blue - in the Undercity, Elias is confronted with his past

They were approaching another intersection, passing through a section of what Elias hoped were residences when it happened. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a kid, barely a teenager by the looks of things, slumped in one of the alleyways between the buildings with a tube of blue tinted liquid lying partially under his limp hand. It was Haze. Strange, how easily the hold it had on him returned. He hadn't been confronted with his one true vice since his departure from the Undercity, but down here he really should have been better prepared to see it. Elias felt himself stop dead in the street, distantly, as though it were happening to another person. There was a ringing in his ears.

Purple - introducing Shiloh!

“You ran a gang and then a smuggling ring out of an old industrial container?” Sebastian asked with a tone of bemused admiration. “Correction,” an lilting voice joined the conversation from a walkway above their heads, “we still run a smuggling ring out of an old industrial container.” Elias turned to meet the interloper with a smile, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest. Walking down from the office above was a woman with cropped black hair, a variety of concealed and not-so-concealed weapons, tattoos a-plenty, and an expression like stone. A responding smile cracked her stern face as she approached, and then her arms were opening in welcome. “Shiloh,” he greeted as they embraced. “Al-Karim,” she replied, pulling back to look him up and down, eyes catching on the barely healed cuts and bruises, and on the deep purple shadows under his eyes, “what on Sol happened to you?” “It’s a long story.”

Open tag for anyone who fancies it and a gentle no-pressure tag for @nettleandthorne and some of my new followers @kaylinamaes and @wmlittlemore-is-writing!

#writeblr #tag game #wip: it all falls down #wip: iafd #elias al-karim #sebastian castello #ok so I definitely use certain colours WAY more than others!#wip: iafd tags

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believingispowerfulmagic · 2 years ago

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The Christmas Engagement

Summary: To secure her company’s future, Regina Mills needs to convince Leopold Blanchard to sell his company to her. He wants to sell to a family-oriented company and has a very conservative view on what family looks like. In a moment of desperation, she makes up a fiancé. When Leopold wants to meet her family, Regina needs to find one STAT.

Enter Robin Locksley, a single father who is unable to move up from his low-paying position. He agrees to play Regina’s fiancé for the holiday season so she can convince Leopold to make the deal. Will their fake engagement fool everyone...or might their feelings turn out to be not-so-fake after all?

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt (from Chapter 1: A Desperate Situation):

Regina Mills straightened her black blazer using her reflection in the silver elevator doors as the carriage rose up through one of the tallest buildings in Maine. She had a bright red dress underneath it, the pencil skirt hugging her curves. Though Regina had fought to develop a reputation for being a capable and intelligent executive who had successfully grown her family's company thanks to a combination of good marketing, great service and even better business deals, she knew when to flaunt a little of her sexuality to help in her negotiating. She knew Leopold Blanchard had lost his wife a little over a year ago and guessed that a younger, attractive woman would hold his attention long enough for her and her sister to impress him with their offer.

"You look fine," Zelena Mills-West assured her sister. "We have a great proposal. Leopold would be hard pressed to find a better offer for his company. And he'll get to look at the both of us, which is probably going to be the highlight of his year."

"There's a lot at stake, Zelena. We probably need Blanchard Electronics more than they need us," Regina replied, keeping an eye on the floors. Once the doors opened, she knew she had to be the confident businesswoman needed to impress Leopold and she needed to leave all her doubts behind her.

Zelena nodded. "I know, Regina, but we need to be confident. We will make this deal and we will get Blanchard Electronics. Okay?"

"Okay," Regina said as the elevator stopped at their floor. She took a deep breath and when the doors opened, her game face was on. Together with Zelena, she approached the reception area. "I'm Regina Mills and this is Zelena Mills-West. We have an appointment with Leopold Blanchard."

The receptionist checked something on her computer before nodding. She stood as she said: "I'm going to show you to the conference room. Follow me, please."

She led them to a frosted glass door and used a swipe card to let them into the room. A large glass table sat in the middle of the carpeted room, leather executive chairs surrounding it except at the end opposite of them due to the large screen at that end of the room. Windows ran from wall to ceiling, letting everyone in the conference room look out at the city skyline. Gray clouds moved in, promising the first snow of the season. Regina hoped it was just a flurry and that she didn't have to worry about the snow on top of the presentation.

The receptionist motioned to a marble counter along the nearest wall, which also included a fridge and a coffee machine. A basket of granola bars and chips sat next to the sweeteners and stirrers. "Help yourself. Mr. Blanchard will be in shortly."

Once she left, Zelena approached the coffee machine. She looked back at Regina. "Do you want anything?"

"Just some water," Regina said, accepting a cold bottle from her sister. "You should just have the water too. We don't want to make a bad impression."

"Having coffee won't make a bad impression," Zelena replied, rolling her eyes as she stirred some creamer into her coffee. She then dumped a packet of sweetener into the cup before following Regina to the table.

They took two seats and Regina opened her portfolio. "Shall we go over the proposal one more time?"

Zelena sighed. "We have everything under control, Regina. Just take a deep breath, relax and be your natural brilliant self. We've got this."

"We can't leave anything to chance," Regina started to say as the door opened again. She looked up and saw the receptionist escort another woman in, telling her to help herself and to have a seat.

Regina looked over the newcomer. She was probably older than Zelena, with tanned skin and ombre hair, going from brown to blond. Her gray-blue eyes looked over Regina and Zelena before she straightened out her black dress, walking over to the table as she took a chair across from them. She pulled out her own portfolio, going through it as it seemed she pointedly ignoring the other two women in the room.

The door opened once more but this time, Leopold Blanchard entered. He was an older man with thin gray hair surrounding a bald spot that covered the top of his head. He wore a dark gray suit with a blue tie and carried a folder of papers under his arm as he closed the door behind him. Smiling, he approached the table. "Thank you for coming. I know this might be a bit unorthodox, but your bids are the two we are considering so I thought it would just be easier to meet with both of you. Consider it a friendly competition."

"Friendly?" Zelena murmured. "Is he kidding me?"

Regina kicked her sister under the table, ignoring Zelena's pained yelp as she smiled at Leopold. "Whatever you think is best. We're flexible."

"I have no objections either," the other woman said, focusing all her attention on Leopold.

He smiled, nodding. "Wonderful! I know you both know me, so let me introduce you to each other. Victoria, this is Regina Mills and Zelena West. They are the CEO and COO respectively of Fantastical Finds, the online retailer. Regina, Zelena, this is Victoria Belfrey of Belfrey Enterprises, who leases retail spaces to companies."

"Pleasure to meet you," Victoria said, though her tone and eyes said otherwise.

"Likewise," Zelena said, almost sounding sincere yet still exuding just a bit of disdain.

Leopold opened his folder. "Now that everyone knows each other, let's get down to business. I'm sure you are wondering why I'm looking to sell the company. We're doing a healthy business, able to pay our shareholders and our employees, and are trending upwards. Well, I'll be honest, I'm old."

"Nonsense," Victoria said, smiling widely. "You look like spring chicken."

"Brown-noser," Zelena muttered. Regina kicked her again, forcing her sister to swallow her painful yelp.

Leopold didn't notice as he smiled at Victoria, his chest puffing out from her flattery. "Thank you, but the number of candles on my birthday cake disagrees with you. I also want to enjoy my retirement while I still can. My daughter just had her first child and I want to spoil my grandson rotten."

"A wonderful goal," Regina said, looking smug as Victoria glared at her. Two could play at the flattery game, she thought as she smiled brightly at Leopold. "Your grandson is quite fortunate to have such a loving and devoted grandfather."

He grew misty-eyed, nodding. "I hope so. Family is very, very important to me. I had hoped to pass my business down to my children, but my wife and I were only blessed with our daughter Mary Margaret and she was called to be a teacher, not a businesswoman. That played a big part in my decision to sell Blanchard Electronics, besides in helping to expand our business and make things better for our employees. I want to make sure whoever I sell to places just as importance on family as I do."

Regina's confidence grew, realizing they could have this in the bag. "Well, as you know, Fantastical Finds is a family operation. Zelena is not just my COO but also my sister. Our parents founded the company years ago, having the foresight to realize how the internet would revolutionize the retail industry and guiding our company into the major player we are today. My sister and I took over when they retired and continue to place great emphasis on family."

"I know," Leopold said, "which is why you are one of my two finalists. Tell me, do you have families of your own?"

"I do," Victoria answered, jumping in. "My husband Marcus works with me and we have three daughters-Ivy, Anastasia and Ella, his stepdaughter from his first marriage. His first wife died and we adopted the girl."

Leopold looked very impressed, his attention drawn back to her. Zelena, though, was quick to get it back. "My husband Chad is the head of our marketing division. We have a young daughter named Margot."

"And I have a son named Henry, after my father," Regina replied, hoping that would be enough. It was for her, after all.

"What about your husband?" Leopold asked. He then made a face before adding: "Or wife. Spouse. Partner. Whatever. I've been told I need to be more accepting of non-traditional families."

His tone, though, suggested he wanted to do anything but that. It was clear he considered a family to be a husband, wife and children. Probably even a dog. He seemed like a dog person to Regina.

She held her head high and settled on a vague but honest answer. "It's just Henry and me."

"I see," he replied, struggling to keep the disdain from his voice. He picked up the papers. "Well, I've reviewed your proposals and I am aiming to make my decision after the holidays. I am hoping to get to know your families and your companies, especially with the holidays coming up. I know they can be a busy time but nothing says family like Christmas."

"I absolutely agree," Victoria replied.

Zelena jumped in. "So do Regina and I."

Regina saw her opening and took it. "In fact, Zelena and I would like to invite you and your family to join us for Fantastical Find's annual holiday party. It's for all the employees and their families are invited as well. We all can mingle together and celebrate the end of another year."

"I would love to come," Leopold said, looking very pleased. "I will check with my daughter and her family but I'm sure they would love to come as well."

"We look forward to having you," Zelena added.

Victoria had a sour look on her face and a thrill rushed through Regina. It seemed they were able to get one up on her but she knew she couldn't rest easy just yet. She and Zelena still had to convince Leopold that it was best for his company to merge with theirs and she was certain Victoria would come up with some way to impress Leopold, to spend some time with him and show off her family. They would have to remain vigilant.

Leopold closed his portfolio. "Ladies, I thank you for coming down today and I look forward to spending more time with all of you in the coming weeks. Have a good afternoon."

Everyone stood and Leopold shook Victoria's hand, speaking with her in a low voice. She put on her fake smile again and nodded a lot before leaving the conference room.

#once upon a time #christmas #outlaw queen #oq au #oq ff #the christmas engagement

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sunsafewriting · 2 years ago

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Do A Flip - chapter 5

After leaving St Michael’s, Ava does everything she can to support Diego, including taking him to extracurriculars. Beatrice is his aikido instructor, and it changes everything.

chapter excerpt:

Miguel.

He finds Ava sitting in the shade under a large tree. She’s slumped back against the trunk, arms folded over her chest, legs stretched out in front of her.

He drops down beside her — leaving a gap, because they’re both kind of gross and sweaty from the last few hours of manual labour — and follows her gaze. She’s watching Beatrice and Diego across the courtyard, where they seem to be embroiled in some kind of debate. If Miguel had to guess, he’d say it’s round two of the can I climb the trellis? negotiations that Diego has already lost once.

Ava seems content to rest in silence, but Miguel’s been waiting patiently for his opportunity to tease her, and he’s absolutely not going to let it slide.

"How’s your foot?" he asks, all innocence. Okay, maybe half, one-third, one-quarter innocence.

Ava elbows him in the ribs — more gently than he deserves. And she’s smirking, so he knows that he’s not really bothering her. "Sore," she says. "But fine. The flowerpot wasn’t that heavy."

He grins. He’s not going to let her live this down for a while, and he suspects that Mary won’t either. "And how’s your pride?"

"Just fine," she tells him. "It may surprise you to hear this, Miguel, but today was not the first time something like that has happened to me."

"Maybe you should do a better job keeping Beatrice away from the fifty-pound bags of gravel, then."

"Unfortunately, she can look hot doing anything," Ava complains, plucking a piece of grass from the dirt and tearing it in half, then in half again. "I’ll never be safe."

"Tough break, Silva."

"It’s rough."

"Yup. But I’m told that God never gives us more than we can handle," he says.

It’s the sort of mildly sacreligious joke that would normally go down well with Ava, but he doesn’t get a response.

In fact, she’s frowning, attention fixed on where Beatrice has successfully distracted Diego from the trellis, redirecting him by showing him how to plant one of the new baby saplings in the ground. They’re kneeled down together, on opposite sides of the plant, and Diego’s head is tilted in careful concentration while Beatrice explains what they’re doing.

"Ava? Are you —"

"Do you think he does, though, sometimes?" Ava blurts.

"Huh?"

"God. Like, I don't believe in any of it, but — but say that I did." She squirms nervously, twisting the material of her shirt in her hands. "Do you think that sometimes God, or the universe, or whatever, really does send you more than you can handle?"

And they’re obviously not talking about Ava's inability to be chill about Beatrice's biceps anymore, but he has no idea how this got away from him.

Apparently Ava doesn’t either, judging by the humourless way she laughs, how she waves a hand vaguely.

"Sorry," she says. "I feel a bit weird. Maybe I have heatstroke."

And that would be easy to turn into a joke, and probably Ava even wants him to, but he won’t. "What do you mean?"

She draws her knees up to her chest and winds her arms around them, as though it’s important to be as small as possible for this. "I just — for a long time, I didn’t have anything in my life go well. Like, at all. And that’s — I get it. Luck of the draw, right? You keep rolling." She shrugs. Sharply. "But this last while, it’s like things can’t seem to stop going well. I have Diego and Beatrice and my friends, and the bar, and college, and it's all working out for me right now."

"Sounds like maybe you earned a break. And you're getting it," he replies.

She puffs out a breath. "And how long does the break last?"

"Ava —"

"I have, like, everything I've ever wanted. Do you know how crazy that is? What if I fuck it up?"

"You won't fuck it up," Miguel assures her. "You might fuck up, every now and then, but you're not going to fuck it up. Your life, I mean. You know that it's going well because of you, right, Ava? Because you're great, and people love you?"

She fidgets, then cracks a deliberate smile. "I am pretty spectacular."

"Yeah. And besides, not that it's really the point, or whatever, but you don't have everything you ever wanted, actually." It’s likely not the best approach to take, but Miguel’s not a licensed therapist. Solve the most obvious problem in front of you: that’s his motto.

"You and I both know that the odds of a Jurassic Park ever —"

"Not that," he says, rolling his eyes. "I mean Beatrice. And your — well. That whole thing. Pretty sure you wouldn't be dropping flower pots if you'd sorted that out."

"Nah, I still would be," Ava declares, with so much exasperated confidence that he doesn't question it. "But you make a good point, I guess. I just — sometimes it's like I can feel this whole awesome future hinging around me. And if I drop the ball, it all goes away."

"It wouldn't," he promises. "If you dropped the ball, Beatrice would pick it up. Or I'd pick it up. Or one of your other friends would."

Ava nods. "I know that. In my head of heads." It’s an odd expression, but Ava's full of odd expressions.

"And I can prove it to you. Sort of," Miguel says, because right at that moment, Beatrice is past them. She’s holding a watering can, making her way towards the garden tap, and looking over at them far less than she would look over at Ava in any other context.

He hopes that one day, once she and Ava are together for real, she starts to like him a bit more, because he really likes her.

"Hey, Beatrice!" he hollers.

She stops, turns to them. "Yes?"

"What would you do if Ava blew up your apartment?" Arguably the most substantial dropping of the ball it is possible for one person to achieve.

Beatrice’s eyebrow arches up. "We don't have the necessary materials at our apartment for an explosion. The most she could manage is a reasonably-sized oil fire."

"Just say she blew it up. The whole thing. Everything in it."

"Is this one of those riddles?"

According to Ava, Diego has been going through something of a trick question phase lately, so perhaps Beatrice is right to be wary.

"It's not a riddle," he promises.

"Well, I suppose we'd have to get a new apartment, wouldn't we?" she says. "And new things. Although Ava tells me her Loch Ness monster ladle is irreplaceable."

"Just because you can buy another one online doesn't mean it's the same," Ava insists.

"And we'd also have to make sure you didn't go to prison for arson or insurance fraud or whatever inspired you," Beatrice lists off.

Ava grins. "Are you saying you’d have to get me off on charges of — wait, that I’d have to get off on — okay, give me a second, I’m nearly there —"

"That’s what she said," Beatrice supplies, in a tone so dry that it takes Miguel a beat to process that she’s being playful.

Ava experiences no such delay: she glows brilliantly, all at once. "Oh my god. I’m such a good influence on you. Twelve years of Catholic education can’t touch this," she declares, preening.

Miguel can think of about six comments in response to that , but even though Ava would certainly find them hilarious, he doesn’t think Beatrice would.

#TWO updates in one day!!!!#literally i will never manage that again but it was nice #nice for me i mean i felt productive but i hope you liked the stories too :)#sunsafewriting #avatrice #avatrice fanfic #avatrice fic #ava x beatrice

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