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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 2 years ago

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@ckfemslashnetwork

COBRA KAI SAPPHIC SUMMER WEEK 1 GOLDEN

***

HEY YALL

So uh. Remember that 10-minute All Too Well YasMoon fic that I’ve been teasing for well over a year now ???

WELL

LO AND BEHOLD!!! A few months ago, I started writing more than just lil ficlets and started creating this bad boy in FULL!!! So for cksapphicsummer, I’m posting a proper preview because a) fall color is a big thing here and it kinda accidentally fits the “Golden” prompt perfectly and b) god. I’m so proud of this funky little snippet. I’ve had so much fun working on this angstfic and I HAD to share my progress with someone. Writing the out-of-order slow burn of Moon becoming a simp who’s in way over her head has been fantastic tbh.

Also she only gets a mention here, but I had WAY too much fun creating Rosalie, Yasmine’s older (and to most everyone’s mind much cooler) influencer sister. Actually might end up including her in unrelated YasMoon fics too, because god, am I a sucker for sibling character foils :O Also it’s not fair that only Sam gets to have a sibling!!! Like give the other kids siblings!!!

…ironically, despite how spoiled she seems to be, Yasmine is one of the few Cobra Kai kids who doesn’t give off huge Only Child vibes XD Like idk. Idk. So much of Her Whole Deal strikes me as Bratty Overcompensating Younger Sister behavior XD

@karatecaulfield BIG pspsps, here’s a preview from A Big Fic coming up!!!

Preview under the cut!!! Enjoy :3

CW for some pretty crude language, and a character shouting a slur basically for shock value. But it’s one that applies to said character, so…I guess it’s reclaiming?

***

“You can travel the world But nothing comes close to the golden coast”

They were belting the lyrics as Yasmine swerved down mountain roads, rounding bends at what couldn’t possibly be a safe speed. It was times like these she thought she was invincible—away from the suffocating smog, under an endless blue sky, surrounded by fresh mountain air, free from the rest of the world’s expectations. Moon couldn’t tame her if she tried.

“Once you party with us, you’ll be falling in love…”

Moon glanced at Yasmine, and the words melted in her mouth. She burst out laughing.

Yasmine was never that unperturbed. She was all confidence and composure and power, holding onto her throne with tooth and manicured nail. Now she was just a silly, dancing teenager, shimmying back and forth and rocking her head from side to side like some kind of puzzled bird. One arm flailing about like the tube men outside of car dealerships while the other drifted on and off the steering wheel to lazily make turns.

She was grinning like she left all her inhibitions in LA.

“California girls, we’re unforgettable Daisy dukes, bikinis on top Sunkist skin so hot we’ll melt your popsicle”

Yasmine affectionately jabbed Moon’s tanned arm. Moon took a moment to be grateful the very ever-present spray-tan responsible was probably also hiding her blush.

“California girls, we’re undeniable Fine, fresh, fierce, we’ve got it on lock West Coast represent, now put your hands up!”

Yasmine did exactly that, whooping for several seconds. Moon worried they were going to hit the guardrail.

West Valley High’s queen bee self-corrected at the last possible moment, just like always. She grabbed the wheel and they made the turn.

There was something so exhilarating about her when she was like this. When she wasn’t projecting an image that didn’t match what was inside. Her voice was off-key and her movements were the opposite of graceful and every bit of control she usually gripped onto with iron strength flew out the window and into the alpine air.

And somehow, it felt like it used to when Moon finally came home after a long, shitty day of middle school, surrounded by stuck-up classmates and scornful, apathetic teachers. It felt like relief.

The song ended, and an ad came on from that annoying kick-the-competition auto dealer guy. As Yasmine complained for the seventh time about her parents not getting Spotify Premium, Moon looked out the window.

The road to Big Bear had more fall color than she’d ever seen. Only 20 miles outside of LA, and it was a whole different world—cherry reds and fiery oranges and sunset golds mixed into the deep green of impossibly tall pine trees.

It was all so foreign to her, always immersed in year-round flowers and greenery and subtropics. It seemed like something out of a Sunday morning dream, or a good shrooms trip. Strange—unnatural, perhaps—but tranquil all the same.

The aspen trees quaked in a sudden breeze. Several golden leaves peeled off their branches, glinting blindingly in the sunlight as they drifted to the ground.

Moon couldn’t quite explain it, but something felt just right. The energy…it was somehow perfectly aligned, all the stars and moons and planets in position for her to be driving off on a wilderness adventure with Yasmine Pyne.

The universe itself was humming in concord, like everything else that came before and after revolved around that moment.

Like it was the beginning of something too immense to see.

“What’re you gawking at?” Yasmine’s voice had a teasing snicker in it. “Have you never been to the mountains before?”

Moon shrugged. “Not since I was little. We only ever drove up here in the summer, though.”

“God, you should see your face.” There was a note of derision in Yasmine’s voice, but Moon barely noticed. “You look like you popped an E tablet or something.”

“Sorry, it’s just…” Moon smiled, shaking her head. “The trees are so beautiful. They’re reminding me of the healing crystals I still need to buy.”

“Um, what? Where is the connection there?”

Moon turned. The bridge of Yasmine’s nose was scrunched against her eyebrows, the way it always did when she was completely perplexed.

“The colors, Yas.” Moon couldn’t help but laugh. “The leaves look like citrine. Or…” Her gaze strayed back out the window. “Empowering jasper. Or harmonizing tiger’s eye. Or vitality ruby. There’s so many hues!”

“You are so weird, girl.”

Yasmine laughed, but there was no disdain in it this time. It was an affectionate kind of amused—amusement at Moon’s expense, perhaps, but with an underlying fondness that caught her off-guard.

Moon looked at the autumn trees zipping by, fiery shades gleaming almost as brightly as gemstones in the alpine sun. She started to shift them in her mind, imagining clusters of leaves as giant, glimmering jewels instead. A whole forest of ruby and citrine and jasper and tiger’s eye and topaz and carnelian, polished stones budding from the ends of delicate white branches. A beautiful, serene place, quiet and peaceful. A place of healing. No sound save birdsong and babbling creeks.

She wondered how much more vivid the image would be with caps.

“I’d actually love to trip out here,” she admitted. “It’d be like…the most spiritual thing ever. I feel like there’s a certain kind of ‘oneness with the universe’ around these trees, you know?”

“What, and then wander off the side of a cliff because you’ve convinced yourself you can fly? No thanks.”

Moon sniggered. Yasmine couldn’t sugarcoat something if she tried.

She didn’t pull punches when it came to teasing out the worst-case scenario and she never hesitated when deciding that’s what would inevitably happen.

A wooden sign post flitted past. Moon pressed her palm into the window glass, eyes widening.

A trailhead.

“Let’s go for a hike!”

The words spouted from Moon before she could stop them. She blinked, wholly unsure where the sudden determination came from.

Yasmine spluttered, uncharacteristically lost for words.

“Please,” Moon added plaintively. “Just a short one?”

“Why?” Yasmine demanded, finally finding her voice.

Moon bit her lip, staring at the dashboard.

“I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never been hiking in Big Bear.”

Yasmine scoffed, punctuating the statement with a smack to the steering wheel.

“Nope.” Moon chuckled nervously, hoping this wasn’t something Yasmine decided was worthy of giving her shit about.

Her friend only snorted in disbelief. “You haven’t been hiking up here,” she said again. “Aren’t your parents like…tree-hugging mega-hippies or something? Seems like they’d be all about that meditative outdoorsy shit.”

Moon laughed, shaking her head. “Well, they’re more like…smoke-a-bunch-of-stuff-in-a-sweat-lodge-and-see-the-entire-pagan-pantheon kind of hippies. Not really the one-with-nature kind of hippies.”

“But you are, huh?”

Yasmine raised her eyebrows, and Moon’s cheeks grew hot.

“I don’t know. I guess so. Nature calms me down when I’m stressed. Helps unblock my root chakra when it gets a little clogged.”

They passed a particularly beautiful grove of red maple trees, and Moon sucked in her breath.

“If we could just…stop and take a little walk somewhere…”

“Mooooon.” Yasmine dragged her name into a whine. “I’m wearing designer boots. If I get too much dirt on them, my mom will skin me alive and use my eviscerated corpse to make another pair.”

“Oh my god.” Moon snickered. “Don’t be so dramatic. Your mom is nice! She’s not going to flip out over a little dust.”

“You don’t know her,” Yasmine grumbled.

“I’ll take the blame if she gets mad. Promise.” Moon gave her friend her most pleading look. “I’ll say…I don’t know. I got you really high and we ran around in the dirt or something. But mountain trails aren’t usually that dirty! At least I don’t think.”

Yasmine whimpered, glancing from the car clock out the window and back again.

At the next trailhead, Yasmine slammed the brakes. Moon yelped, lurching forward as the range rover screeched to a stop in a pullover surrounded by soaring pines and gold-tinged scrub bushes.

“Oh, fuck it. Rosalie’s not expecting us until 4 anyways.”

Moon smiled at her lap. She got the feeling Yasmine could have fought her harder.

***

“Tell me a secret.”

“What?” Moon’s sandals dug into the trail, grinding her to a halt.

“Tell me a secret.” Yasmine turned, hair backlit by mountain sunshine. “Come on. If you’re going to insist we trek out into the middle of buttfuck nowhere, you’d better have some juicy gossip for where absolutely no one can hear us.”

She leaped onto a nearby boulder with surprising grace, boots deftly clinging to the gaps in a way that suggested she hadn’t always been as averse to physical exertion as she was now.

“DICK AND BALLS!” Moon was completely unprepared for her friend to cup her mouth and shout at the top of her lungs. “MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKING SHITHEADS! GODDAMN PUSSY-EATING DYKES! I’LL PISS IN YOUR MOUTH!”

The forest only answered Yasmine’s abundance of profanity with wind, songbird calls, and one or two annoyed crows. Not another human soul to be heard.

“See?” Yasmine turned, her grin conniving. “No one’s going to hear any of this shit besides us. You can literally say anything you want out here. It’d be a waste not to spill some tea.”

She spread her arms, and for a moment, she looked like a bird. An elegant, dainty little yellow warbler, about to take flight or break into song.

“No one can fuck with us out here!” she crowed. For a moment, Moon felt almost as free as her.

Moon laughed, shaking her head. She hadn’t known what to expect from the blonde girl in the yellow designer sundress, making snide comments in her math class, but these unrestrained dramatics were definitely not it.

“So come on, then.” Yasmine scaled down the rock as easily as she’d climbed it. “Tell me something scandalous, Moon.”

Moon frowned, quickening her pace to catch up. “Why?”

“Because. Maybe I want to get to know the girl I’m hauling up into the mountains to see my sister, huh?”

“We don’t need deep, dark secrets for that, do we?”

“Not technically, but I’m bored of all the other shit.” Yasmine groaned. “‘Where’d you go to middle school, did you grow up here, do you have any brothers or sisters,’ blah blah blah. We covered all the small talk crap when we ditched for brunch. I want something more interesting.”

Moon’s cheeks grow hot. “I don’t know if I’m hiding anything that interesting.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Yasmine turned, gray-green eyes boring into Moon. The blonde started walking backwards just in front of her friend, maintaining very intense and very judgmental eye contact the entire time. “Everyone’s got a little dirt on them, Moon. You just have to scrape it up.”

Feeling a sudden rush of bravery (perhaps the empowering jasper-colored leaves were to blame), Moon crossed her arms and returned Yasmine’s smirk. “And why should I give you my dirt?”

“Because.” Those stormy irises had a cunning gleam in them. “What’s a few secrets between best friends?”

“Best friends!” Moon laughed in surprise. “We barely know each other. And I’m your—well, I mean.” She found herself stumbling over her words. “What about everyone else at the table? Your middle school crew?”

“Oh, well.” Yasmine rolled her eyes dismissively. “Jenna, Harper, Aubrey—they’re all fake as fuck. Dumb sluts are using me to get a taste of what it’s like at the top. I know the knives come out whenever my back’s turned.” Her lips curled into a sneer. “It’s whatever, honestly. I’d just as soon get rid of them as soon as they stop making us look good. But you…”

For the first time in a while, the scornful look dropped completely.

“You’re different, Moon. You’re…real. Not basic and boring like every other bitch that follows me around.”

If Moon’s cheeks weren’t on fire before, they certainly were now.

“You really mean that?”

“Yeah, duh. I wouldn’t take you out here if you weren’t worlds better than all the other losers at our trash-ass school. Now…”

The genuine look that briefly shone through morphed into a smirk. Mood wondered if she’d imagined it.

Yasmine leaned forward, smirk widening. Without warning she grabbed both of Moon’s hands, tangling their fingers together as she continued to effortlessly saunter backwards. “Tell me a secret, Moon.”

“I…”

Moon could feel what was hovering just behind her lips. The words threatening to tangle with the mountain air and wash over Yasmine like a cold breeze, causing her hands to jerk away and her face to twist in that oh-so-familiar disgust.

I’m not normal.

It was something in the way that all through elementary school—and all through the turbulent tides of middle school, too—her eyes weren’t only drawn by soccer players showing off at recess, or the track stars who could run more gym class laps than anyone. Boys who dripped confidence like sweat and gleamed like fresh-minted coins, the names inside the hearts every girl doodled.

Just as often she found herself drawn to the ballet dancers and the child beauty pageant winners and the sirenlike voices of the girls in choir. Often as not, her mind was on billowing hair and purple nails and the scent of fruit shampoo as much as the testosterone and cologne of the ever-boisterous boys.

And it was a fascination that went beyond friendship. Moon knew that much.

She was able to join in with the other girls, gushing about the guys they liked and making bets on who would ask who to the next dance. But there was always half of it left unsaid.

She’d never told a soul. Not her easygoing parents. Not her middle school gang. No one. It was an anomaly that belonged to her and her alone.

And Moon wasn’t about to drive away her newest friend, in all her power and mystique and sheer magnetic energy.

Yasmine must’ve seen the gears turning behind her eyes. She groaned, yanking especially hard on Moon’s hands with an exaggerated eyeroll.

“Oh, fine. I’ll go first if you’re not gonna spill.”

Moon raised her eyebrows. “That was an option?”

Yasmine scoffed. “I mean, if you’re just going to stand there looking constipated…”

Moon couldn’t find a response.

Which probably made her look even more constipated.

“I don’t actually wake up like this.” Yasmine grinned mischievously, giving those flawless yellow locks of hers a graceful flip. “And it’s not Maybelline, either. I have to wake up at 5 fucking o’clock every morning to straighten this bitch. But better that than go to school looking like a fucking hobo.”

Moon laughed.

“So you don’t wake up with perfect hair? That’s not very scandalous.” Yasmine gasped, sounding half offended. “It is if you’re someone with my rep!”

“Well, if it’s that important to you…” Moon sniggered. “I won’t tell anyone. But for what it’s worth, I think the other kids would be impressed you put so much time into looking perfect.”

“Oh, no way. They need to think it’s like…an inherent part of my personality that I’m flawless and untouchable. Otherwise they might start getting ideas about replacing me if they style their hair for long enough.”

She had to laugh again.

“I don’t think you need to worry. The entire school knows they could never hold a torch to you.”

For a moment, uncertainty flickered through those stormcloud eyes.

Like the fear of being dethroned was greater than Yasmine let on.

“Damn right,” she said, smug expression returning. She tugged Moon’s hands again, bringing the girls close enough that Moon could smell traces of the strawberry-and-nutella crepes she had for breakfast.

“Your turn,” she purred.

“Um…”

Moon paused, pushing thoughts of her unspoken strangeness away. Yasmine didn’t need to know that.

“I’m worried that people think I’m kind of stupid,” she said instead.

Yasmine looked genuinely thrown off for a moment.

“What do you mean?”

Her expression turned…not serious exactly, but more thoughtful and curious than Moon was used to. None of its usual smugness.

“My friends from middle school, they—they all went to these private Ivy League prep schools. I, uh…I think some of their parents bribed their way in, but some of them were genuinely just that smart. Either way, my parents weren’t willing to pull strings to get me in. They’re really, um…‘go with the flow’ in a way that they, like, don’t like to exert a lot of effort on anything they don’t need to. Which includes keeping me with my friends, I guess.”

Moon took a breath, almost hoping Yasmine would interrupt.

Yasmine didn’t. Only waited with uncharacteristic patience for her to finish.

“I told them at 8th grade continuation I didn’t make it into Harvard-Westlake. They, um…they looked at me like I was some kind of reject. And they started talking about all the things they were gonna do in high school.” Moon winced at the memory. “Kelsey was gonna learn Latin. Rachel was gonna get into Hollywood. Tess was gonna figure out how to become like…some political diplomat or something. And I guess it was just like…we’d been together through the thick and thin of everything, and suddenly I was some dumb bimbo who wasn’t even worthy of licking the dirt they stepped on. And after that night, I never heard from any of them again.”

Yasmine’s only response was a curled lip. “Ew.”

Moon’s stomach sank. “You think I’m also…?”

Yasmine’s scowl deepened. “No, your stupid friends. They sound like a load of self-righteous bitches.” She scoffed. “Girl, you’re well-rid of them. You stuck around and they’d try to make you into a fucking lame loser nerd just like them. Who the fuck uses Latin in their day-to-day existence, anyways?!”

Moon found herself laughing.

“Yeah, I guess Kelsey was always kind of prissy that way.”

“Half the shit they teach in high school doesn’t matter in the real world, anyways.” Yasmine rolled her eyes. “And yeah, even at prep schools, too. Take all the acting classes and political science you want, but if you don’t know someone important in the industry, you’re not getting shit. The world runs on nepotism, so…your old bitches are going to get fucked over so bad.”

Something about Yasmine’s overconfident scorn soothed her. No one who spoke that surely could be wrong…right?

Moon chuckled. “Is it bad that I kind of hope they do?”

“Nah. Would serve the dumb fucks right.” Yasmine’s smirk returned—bigger than any she’d worn all afternoon. “I should be thanking them, really. They ditched by far the coolest person in their group, and now I get you all to myself.”

Moon only hoped Yasmine didn’t see how red her own cheeks were turning.

“For the record, though…”

Yasmine seemed to search her face, expression suddenly unreadable.

“I don’t think you’re stupid. I mean…not that it matters anyways, because pretty people get jobs more than smart people do, but being good at the crap they teach in school doesn’t mean anything. Being able to read people, knowing who you can open up to and who’s a damn snake, figuring out how to talk people into giving you what you want…that’s what matters. And you’ve got more intuition than anyone I’ve met in a long time.”

Well, if having intuition was what mattered…

Moon only hoped she was reading Yasmine right.

***

Some random author’s notes, in no particular order:

Love that Yasmine is canonically a terrible driver. Like she accidentally kick-started the entire plot because her dumb ass was texting and driving and rammed right tf into Johnny Lawrence’s car. I have every reason to believe she’s this bad of a driver in every situation 💛 Absolute trash queen 👑

Writing S1 Yasmine is so much fun because she’s SO unapologetically shitty, like. You can have her say the most deranged shit and it’s completely in character??? Delightfully challenging to figure out how fucking anyone could fall inconsolably head-over-heels for her, especially someone as naturally good-natured as Moon!!! Like she was simping—I know it in my soul—but how the FUCK did that happen???

Also no I absolutely do not count Demetri’s “feelings” as falling inconsolably head-over-heels for her—mans was faking being straight to get Miguel not to abandon him and then felt he had to Commit To The Bit. I WILL die on this hill btw.

On a related note, though!!! I’ve probably watched the S1 Yasmine scenes DOZENS of times for this fic (not a single fucking one without her girlfriend btw), and after a while you start to pick up on some like…unexpected softness you didn’t notice before? Like she seems genuinely pleased Sam is enjoying throwing her party! She plays wingwoman and sets Sam up with Kyler! (Granted, there could have been ulterior motives here—namely distracting Sam so she doesn’t notice That Gay Shit going on between her two new best friends—but the act in of itself didn’t seem malicious.) She’s a tad overprotective of Moon when she believes Sam has been talking crap, and tells Sam to get the hell out of Moon’s car!!! She genuinely looks hurt when Moon chooses Hawk and Co. over her!!! Like it’s few and far between, but she definitely seems to care about her friends on some level, even at her worst. With that in mind, it’s a lot easier to write Moon getting smitten with her!

Adding onto this—rewatching the S1 Yasmine clips, it’s kind of striking how often she refers to herself and Moon as a unit, especially during the 1x05 car scene with Sam. “Kyler told us what you said.” “You think you’re better than us.” “We know what went down.” She says “Moon, let’s go” when about to ditch the beach party instead of just storming off because of course she’s not leaving without Moon (who she chose to stay with over going with Kyler btw!). She doesn’t even consider it a possibility until Moon outright says it. Not only is this a cool parallel to a thing S1 Demetri also does (I.e. frequently uses “we” to speak for both him and Eli from a place of misguided-ish overprotectiveness and the confidence that “I know what’s best for both of us as a unit”), but this is something a lot of long-term couples I know irl tend to do!!! When I talk about movies with my roommate, he tends to say “we (I.e. him and his fiancé) did/didn’t like it.” When my married friend thanked me for catsitting, he said “we really appreciate it.” Point being that even at her absolute worst, Yasmine is never actually just thinking about herself—she’s thinking about herself and Moon, right up until Moon chooses to ditch her! Anyways yeah these girls were a Thing sorry. If they have a tendency that immediately calls to mind my married and engaged friends, that’s. A little gay???

Also worth noting that Yasmine only really breaks from Moon in 1x09, and then as SOON as she appears again in S3, she’s once again glued to Moon’s hip. Girl literally cannot stay away from Moon akfssrfuhbi

But all that aside!!! S1 Yasmine genuinely sucks so bad. Like GIRL. You fat-shamed a girl for no fucking reason. You verbally eviscerated an ugly sweater kid just minding his business and probably jump-started his Evil Journey tbh. You slut-shamed your ex-friend all over the internet after she almost got sexually assaulted. You cut off your closest friend and fuck buddy because she dared to ask you to stop being horrid. What in the actual hell is wrong with you. I am horrified and fascinated. I want to study Yasmine like a bug.

And I am, via this fic!!! God, am I having a blast with it. Fully intend to continue delving into why she’s the actual fucking worst and giving her the nuance the showrunners never bothered with 💛

I spent like 3 hours researching “prep schools” in the San Fernando Valley, and watched a whole-ass tour video for Harvard-Westlake to determine what Moon’s shitty (or shittier) ex-friends went off to study that made her feel inadequate. Please be proud of me for doing a deep dive into this weird niche topic to make my weird niche pairing fic feel authentic XD

Deadass role-playing as an Uber-wealthy Encino parent looking for a good, respectable high school for their spoiled 8th grader was. An incredibly bizarre experience. I do not want kids, I could not afford them even if I did, and I do not have anything anywhere close to a rich suburban husband to discuss a kid’s school options with. I guess this is the essence of trying to explore lived experiences that will never belong to you???

I legitimately do think Moon is smarter than she comes off as (Demetri wouldn’t fuck with her otherwise!) and is somewhat insecure about being seen as “dumb” because she’s bubbly, hyperfemme, conflict-averse, and in touch with her spirituality. I don’t think she likes admitting this, though—she doesn’t like “burdening” others with her own demons!

Considering Yasmine’s “natural” hairstyle in S3 appears to be more wavy, girl probably spent an ungodly amount of time and effort straightening her hair in season 1. Like yeah, she was mean at, but can you blame her??? Bitch was probably running on like 4 hours of sleep a night!

Jenna, Harper, and Aubrey are some of the extras at the Rich Girls Table! I’ve mentioned in other posts, but I’ve always kind of wondered about them, and What Their Deal Was that they’re only sometimes worthy of hanging out with Yasmine XD Git hyped to see more of them in this and other planned YasMoon fics!!!

Continuing to love looking into crystals/spirituality/incense/other kinds of Wiccan-adjacent things I think Moon would be into! As a woman of science, I’m not sure if I buy into that, but I do think it’s genuinely fascinating and fun to explore and research! There’s a lot of pretty cool and interesting belief systems out there to explore when you go in without obsessing over whether something’s 100% true or false and whatnot.

Yes, Californians really do get that hyped about seasons. I would know—I moved there after growing up in the Midwest, and seeing Californians get hyped about seeing snow or massive amounts of fall foliage for the first time is just about the most pure thing ever ;_____; But it’s definitely not out of the question for Moon to get that pumped about fall color aksssdtchh

I kind of love the idea of Moon always knowing she was bisexual, but not building the confidence to proudly tell it to the world until Piper helped her to 💗💜💙

Bitches be holding other bitches’ hands on an isolated hiking trail and think that’s a Straight and Normal thing to do. Like come on. We all know what you are, Yasmine.

Can’t give y’all an exact posting estimate for the whole fic, but I’m not giving up on it anytime soon (having WAY too much fun with this angst to do that!!!) and will try to get the rest of it done as soon as I can!!! Hoping ideally by sometime this coming winter :3

#cksapphicsummer #yasmoon #yasmine x moon #moon x yasmine #yasmine cobra kai #moon cobra kai #fanfic #fanfiction #cobra kai #cobra kai season 1 #(this takes place prior to S1 btw--around the beginning of the girls' freshman year before they were friends with Sam!)#femslash #wlw #lesbian #sapphic

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traumxrei-archive · 3 years ago

Note

hello! can i request #9 and jade for the special, um, 666 followers event LOL. if the slots are already full, can i request jade for #8 instead? thank you so much!

【 passing time in your arms 】

prompt #8: They said they were finally going to leave Twisted Wonderland, but he doesn’t want them to go and if he doesn’t say something now… (ft. jade leech)

gn! reader, 600 followers event ficlet

author's note: hello !! i think i ran out of slots on #9, so this will be written with prompt #8, which is. angsty asf. i had a fun time making jade go through all that angst jskdfjsk idk what possessed me to write this since it's kinda hurt/minimal comfort, but nonetheless i hope you enjoy the fic ^^

Memories weren't something that was particularly important to Jade Leech. It was simply a useful tool; for passing his classes, remembering orders, and at times recalling the past. But right now more than ever, Jade was sure that he wanted to remember. No, he needed to remember.

As he desperately ransacked his own belongings— trying so hard to remember— Jade's mind couldn't help but replay the exact moment that lead him to where he was now.

It was a particularly special day for Jade. The Mountain Lovers Club finally got clearance to do an off-campus hike. To Jade, there was nothing more exciting. Especially when the Prefect was added to the mix. He managed to coax out an agreement from them to come with him for this hike.

And the hike was productive indeed, just as his calculations had predicted. There were many new plants he got to catalog and photograph, and the Prefect's company was a welcome change from his usually lonely hikes. It wasn't until they got to the mountaintop that the atmosphere started to change.

"Jade," It was automatic how he turned towards where they were, used to them calling for him; whether at the lounge, in the lunchroom, or those rare moments they had alone. There was a slight smile on his face, uncharacteristic of his usual disposition. But it quickly disappeared when he saw the serious look on their face.

"What is it, Prefect?"

"This is hard..." They muttered under their breath, dragging their hands over their face. "Okay. Crowley just informed me this morning that he found a way to send me back to my old world. I...wanted you to be one of the first to know."

Jade tilted his head. Was he hearing right? He didn't know how to conduct himself, his face contorting into a painfully polite smile, "Excuse me?"

"I'm going back to my old world, Jade," There was a slight pause before they continued. "I know this isn't something you could be happy about—"

"No, no," Jade insisted, though he could feel his heart clench painfully in the confines of his ribs. "This must be a happy occasion for you. I was just...shocked, really. After all, it has been a long time since you've received any news." Not long enough, a traitorous thought said and Jade couldn't help but agree.

"Right?" They turned their gaze to the view. "I guess Crowley did his work after all that procrastinating." What was once a beautiful view to Jade now all looked like it was dipped in greyscale with the crushing weight of the news they just delivered.

Jade tried to clear his head, "Who else knows?"

"Ah," They smiled sheepishly. "It's just you and Grim. He was there when Crowley told me, he's probably kicking up a fit because I left on the hike right after he was told."

Just him and Grim.

"Your other acquaintances probably won't be as composed as I," Jade bluffed, willing his eyes to curve into a fake smile. "I do wish you luck. And you can tell me if you'd like....assistance with telling them."

"Thank you, Jade," They breathed out a long sigh. "It's sad, but...Crowley said that the end of this month is the only guaranteed time I'd be able to go back. It's either now or most likely never, so... I hope you can understand my choice."

They didn't speak anymore after that. The hike down was quiet, sparse words exchanged to make sure that they didn't lose each other. They parted with a goodbye on their part, and he made sure not to lose his smile till after they were gone.

But how was Jade supposed to look at them the same when he knew he was on borrowed time? When he knew that he would be losing them at the end of it all?

The worst part was that his mind was working well enough that he could understand their choice. They had grown up in their original world; spending most of their life there. All semblance of family they had, all their friends, possessions, and anything that mattered...it was all there.

Not here. Not in Twisted Wonderland.

But there was something here, wasn't there? There was the time that they spent with everyone, no matter how short. It had been almost a whole year that they've stayed here. And the time they spend with him, too. Those memories must count for something...right?

So that was where he found himself now. Digging through his usually-neat desk drawer, trying to catch the memories rushing through his mind like sands slipping through his fingers.

A bookmark. The painfully familiar scrawl on the back reminded him of a favor he did for them in the early stages of their acquaintance. It was a first for him to receive such a gift, and it piqued his interest in them.

A handful of eel-shaped candies from Sam's. They had brought him one every so often whenever they remembered. And while Jade wasn't a sweet tooth, he still ate them at times. The candy always stained his tongue purple and he remembered them remarking about how they matched.

A pressed flower. Something about how autumn was coming and how the flowers were too pretty to forget. He only kept it because he thought that the sentiment was poetic, and the downcast gaze the Prefect gave the flower was too obvious to ignore.

An awfully burned glove that he should've thrown away sooner. The result of their experimentation in the greenhouse. They had laughed so brightly at the failure that Jade couldn't even bring himself to frown. They had perfected it at the end, and Crewel had praised them. But Jade only cared about the beaming smile they sent him.

A photo from that Ghost Camera of theirs. The couple in the photo moved slightly, and he sucked a breath at the vividness of it all. It was his birthday, and they said that it was their special gift for him. He was looking at them, something so bright in his eyes as they were busy clicking the shutter. He was staring at them so intently that he couldn't remember what it felt like before them.

And suddenly he couldn't breathe.

When. When did they become such an irreplaceable part of his life? Jade had to blink hard to keep the tears from falling down his cheeks. There was a call of his name; just Floyd asking if he was okay. He looked like a mess, still in his hiking gear, rummaging through his stuff like a madman.

He said something along the lines that he was fine, cradling the items to his chest like they would disappear with the wind. He didn't remember much of the next part, only that he somehow found himself all the way at Ramshackle.

It was dark. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't, but when a sleepy-eyed Prefect answered the door he could feel his heart stopping in his throat.

"Jade?" He wanted to sob at the mere mention of his name.

"I'm not okay. I...I lied," Jade couldn't help but crumple to his knees as he made it into the foyer. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." They followed him, his hand clutching at their sleeve.

"Is this...?"

"This. And this, and this," He felt crazy just laying out each item. Crazy hoping that they would understand. "I didn't...realize."

"Realize what?" Their voice was surprisingly level, even as they picked up the photo. Though he could see it was all an act. He saw the way their throat bobbed; glossiness overtaking their eyes.

He cradled their hand, slowly letting his shaking fingers brush over their knuckles, "I am in love with you. I don't want you to leave. And I'm selfish for—"

He was interrupted by their hug, his items scattering as they fell onto the wood floors with a thump. The air was knocked out of him, replaced by an awful warmth as he snaked his arms around them all too desperately.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," They whispered, tears staining his neck. "You weren't supposed to say anything. I was— I was going to leave before we could—"

"We can now," Jade swallowed back another plead. "For you. Even if you decide to leave."

Their face hovered over his, equally as tear-stained, "I'll break your heart."

"And I'll allow it," Jade said firmly, wiping the tears from their cheeks. "I think it would break either way without you here."

The kiss they shared after was quiet; an exchange of silent promises not to forget. A bittersweet uncertainty punctuated by tears. For the time they had left in each other's arms was shorter than both would've liked. And a day would come when all they would have were memories of it all.

thanks for reading the jade angst ! if you enjoyed (or need some healing from that heavy blow of emotional damage), go ahead and check out my masterlist for more of my writing <33

#/trau's milestone event #and that's where i find a glimpse of us #rip jade #i'm sorry for all the emotional damage #i promise i love him sjdkfjkf #/trau writes #/trau fics #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fics #twst fic #twst fics #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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andiwriteordie · 2 years ago

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Andi congrats on 1.5k!!!!!!!!!! Ily. I am bad with short prompts ngl and uhhh I was writing an ask out and then I think I forgot about it???? Like I think I fully exited the app and deleted it so uhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah no I got nothing ily 💕💕❤️💕

(??? Idk if it sent and I think it was something something monopoly.)

thank you so much, toy!!!! also huge bummer that you lost your original ask hahaha, but hey! i hope that you enjoy this silly little ficlet featuring the wheeler-byers-hopper family! set about 10 years after the mess of the upside down, so will and mike are about 27-28 years old here. :)

—

you didn’t cheat (but you’re still a traitor)

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Will… It’s not that big of a deal!”

“‘Not that big of a deal?’ What do you mean it’s not that big of a deal, Mike? Of course, it’s a big deal! How could you do this to me? To us?”

“...Will, I love you, but you’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? I’m being ridiculous? You cheated, Michael!”

“Oh, for the love of…” Mike groans, running a hand through his hair. “You say this every time we play Monopoly, Will! I didn’t cheat!”

Will narrows his eyes at his fiancé, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, really?” he asks suspiciously. “Then, you want to explain to me how you always seem to win Monopoly?”

Mike gives him a look back, gesturing to the rest of their family, who really doesn’t seem to care that Mike just cheated at Monopoly again. “Because our family sucks at Monopoly,” he deadpans. “And yet, you still make us play it every year.”

“Because I want to prove that you’re cheating!”

Another exasperated groan escapes his fiancé’s lips, and he falls back onto the floor dramatically. “Is no one going to help me?” Mike grumbles. “Anybody?”

“Nope,” Jonathan deadpans.

“Nuh uh,” Nancy says with a yawn.

“This is much funnier,” El adds. “Especially since you said that we suck at Monopoly.”

Mike holds up his middle fingers at the three of them, then he turns to look at Will’s parents. “Joyce? Hop?”

“Oh, now look at you,” Will accuses, and he playfully throws a pillow at his fiancé’s face. “Trying to turn my own damn parents against me. I’m breaking up with you.”

Mike sits up, and he gapes at Will. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“Will,” Will’s mom says, rolling her eyes. “Honey, you are being a little dramatic.”

“It is funny though,” Hop says with a chuckle. “Even if every damn person here knows you’d never break up with Wheeler. Unfortunately.”

“Asshole!” Mike calls, and he chucks the pillow Will had just thrown at him towards Hop. To absolutely no one’s surprise, Mike misses spectacularly.

“Listen, I just think that it’s really funny you’re calling me a cheater, Byers,” Mike declares, turning and meeting Will’s gaze. There’s a playful glint in his eyes, and as he crosses his arms over his chest, Mike adds, “Especially since this entire family is full of traitors.”

Before Will has a chance to respond, Mike begins pointing to everyone in the room. “El likes to cheat when we play Operation. She uses her powers and just hides the blood. I’ve seen her do it.”

A panicked look forms on El’s face. “I do not—”

“Jonathan and Nancy have both cheated at Settlers of Catan,” Mike adds. “You remember that time we all played as teams since there were too many of us, and they won and were insufferable about it? Yeah, it’s because Nancy convinced Jonathan to cheat.”

Nancy’s face turns bright red. “Okay, I did not—”

“Mom and Dad usually don’t care enough to cheat,” Mike says with a shrug. “Unless we’re playing poker. Then both of them are dirty little cheaters.”

Will’s parents both exchange a look with each other, and Will gapes at them. “Mom? Dad?”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Will’s mom says with a sheepish laugh.

“You literally won so much money off me when we were here for Thanksgiving!” Will protests.

“And that money went to paying for all of your Christmas gifts,” Hop deadpans, gesturing to all the gifts under the tree. “You’re welcome.”

Mike just smirks triumphantly, and he leans across the coffee table, looking at Will now. “And you, my dearest William,” he says with fake sweetness, “my best friend in the entire world… the love of my life… you have a lot of gall accusing me of being a cheater… when, in fact, you love cheating at UNO of all games.”

“I don’t cheat at UNO!” Will protests, narrowing his eyes at his fiancé. “How the hell would you cheat at UNO anyways?”

“You always like stacking the +4 cards,” Mike huffs. “When clearly the rules say that you can’t do that.”

“Everyone stacks the +4 cards, Michael!” Will exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “As long as we all agree to play that way, it’s not cheating!”

“Well, I didn’t agree to play that way, William,” Mike parrots back in the same exasperated tone. “Ergo, you’re cheating!”

“...Oh for the love of…” Will runs a hand through his hair, and he glares playfully at his fiancé. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

A little smirk forms on Mike’s face. “No, I’m not,” he says stubbornly. “You get too cold at night and like to use me as a personal space heater. So, once you stop being a sore loser, you’ll come downstairs and beg me to come back.”

Will gapes at his fiancé, and Mike just smiles innocently, as if to say, Tell me I’m wrong.

(He’s not wrong, of course. But Mike doesn’t need to know that.)

“I hate you,” Will decides to say, shoving the monopoly board towards his fiancé. “I hate you very, very much.”

A grin forms on Mike’s face, and he sits up, leaning across the coffee table. He tugs on the collar of Will’s flannel and pulls him into a kiss. “I love you too.”

#andi's asks #wheeler byers hopper family #byler #byler ficlet #andi writes not dies

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thatmexisaurusrex · 3 years ago

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Hi! Just a quick note about how much I love your work 😊

I'd love to read about the third prompt 😁

Quick Ficlet List

That's so sweet of you to say, @d-jscar. It honestly feels like I'm putting out my worst stuff or something recently, so it's idk it's nice to hear that haha Thank you for sending such a fun prompt! I hope you're okay with a bittersweet little post-endgame fic 😅 I hope you enjoy the ficlet! 🥰

"That's not mine."

Sam noticed something was strange when he woke up to no alarm. He rubbed his eyes. Blearily blinked away sleep as he tried to remember what happened last night.

Oh right.

Sam helped save the universe. And then he learned that he lost five years of his life. And then he drank all night celebrating the former, trying not to think about the latter.

Warm.

The left side of the bed was warm. Sam felt the person-sized warmth, an echo of someone being there before.

Who had Sam gone home with?

Where were they even?

Sam looked around at the designs on the wall; a Wakandan print Sam knew well since he saw it every time he stayed in Birnin Zana between missions. It wasn't his room, though.

Or maybe it was and things had just changed that much.

"Sam?"

Sam froze. Because that was Bucky's voice.

Had he slept with Bucky Barnes?

"We didn't - we just slept there. Literally. Not um. No doing the devil's tango or the beast with two backs or anything," Bucky rambled, as if reading Sam's mind.

Sam snickered.

"The devil's tango?" asked Sam, the phrase taking him out of it, making him forget all the stress he knew he was going to feel soon as he sat up and faced a sheepish yet smiling Bucky.

"You know," said Bucky, distractingly only in boxers shorts as he sipped some coffee, "Opening the gates of Mordor. Harpooning the salty longshoreman. Dancing the four-legged foxtrot. Jumping the turnstile. Grope for the trout in the peculiar river. Batter-dipping the corndog."

Sam cackled, collapsed into wheezes and tears as Bucky sat down next to him on the bed, folding his legs into what Sam's brain remembered fondly as "criss-cross applesauce".

"Why are you like this?" asked Sam pleadingly between laughs.

Bucky kept smiling softly at Sam.

"Because it makes you laugh," said Bucky like Sam laughing was the best thing to happen to him, "Coffee?"

"Isn't this yours?" asked Sam, a little confused as he sat up and took the uncharacteristically black coffee from Bucky.

Sam tried not to think about how he was only in his boxers too.

"Oh, that? That's not mine," said Bucky, "No, I got that for you."

"You drank from this, you dick," said Sam as he took a huge swig of the coffee despite what he just learned, "You're such an asshole."

"I'm an asshole who's probably going to stay in Wakanda for a little while longer," said Bucky wistfully, "You're um. Going home today. Full pardon."

Sam almost choked on his coffee.

"Wait. What?" said Sam, stunned.

Because Sam didn't believe it. He didn't think he'd ever go back home.

Bucky's smile turned into a grin.

"Yeah. I heard from Steve. You're going with him to D.C. to get pardoned at the White House and everything. Isn't that great? You'll get to see Sarah again. The boys," said Bucky, excited for Sam.

Which was when Sam realized what else Bucky said.

"You're... not coming," said Sam.

Bucky shrugged.

"They'll let me visit stateside for Tony's funeral, but my pardoning's going to be... a little trickier. I am a world-class assassin and super soldier," explained Bucky, "But I'll call you when I get back. I'll try to visit. Stevie says it's very likely I'll be allowed back on a pardon, I just don't know when yet."

And it felt like something was going to happen. Something that would tear whatever fragile thing they had here apart.

It wasn't as if Sam couldn't go without seeing Bucky for months at a time. That was what their relationship had always been, really. Friends who saw each other every other month for a few days.

But something about this felt different.

"Can you keep me up to date with how the negotiations go?" asked Sam, trying not to show the worry creeping into his voice.

"Of course," said Bucky as he pulled Sam close, "Always."

But it didn't feel like an always. It felt like whatever they were doing now was either going to bend or snap because of this. Sam wondered if Bucky could feel it too. If that was why his arms wrapped loosely around Sam, pulling him closer.

Sam tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about anything. He wanted to treasure whatever moments they had left before it was time for him to go home. He rested his head on Bucky's chest, the coffee Bucky got him in his hands as Bucky held him close.

"You'll finally see your family again," whispered Bucky, way too happy for Sam.

Which made Sam forget his worries. Made Sam melt a bit in Bucky's arms. Made him smile at the thought of it. Of Sarah and Jody and their kids. Of seeing his nephews in person.

"I'm finally going home to see my family again," whispered Sam, unable to fully comprehend that was real as he listened to Bucky's heartbeat.

*****

Want me to write a ficlet for you? Check out the prompts and send me an ask!

#thank you so much for the prompt 🥰#sambucky #sambucky ficlet #post endgame #and there was only one bed #fluff #bittersweet

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sushiburritonoms · 3 years ago

Text

Din/Luke Kyber Crystal Drabble for Tene <3

Hi gang!

My dear @bronze-lorica has been so supportive to me this year so I wrote her this short Drabble (ficlet?). I'm sorry it wasn't smutty my darling ;_; (next time tentacles!)

This is untitled, not beta'd, doesn't really make sense and its just vibes and thoughts about sentient kyber crystals. Maybe one day it'll turn into a real story, idk. Enjoy!

All kyber crystals are sentient.

When Luke told Din this, it was said so casually, so matter of fact that Din failed to immediately grasp the enormity of the statement. He’d been too busy processing the revelation that the Darksaber, the ancient Mandalorian weapon that was so coveted and desired by his people, was the source of his recent spat of odd dreams and strange phantom sensations. The faint pulse against his palms. The way in which the saber seemed to curve in the desired direction even before his arms completed the move. The strange weight that the Darksaber had when he dwelt for too long in negative thoughts. All of it was real.

It was even more impressive because Din was only slightly Force-sensitive. More than most, but not to the level of Luke and Grogu. Apparently, for a full Jedi the sensations were a lot more intense. “You’ll get used to it,” Luke had assured him, with a sheepish look on his face. “Eventually.”

It was a lot to take in and there were so many other things to worry about; Bo-Katan and Boba Fett’s Tatooine takeover and revenge tour being his biggest problems. Then when Mandalore was reclaimed and Fett and Shand were mostly content with the Empire they had built, Din had found himself distracted with Luke himself. He had completely forgotten the existence of other kyber crystals until the day when he had pinned Luke against the wall of his newly built Jedi temple and accidentally pressed his beskar clad hip too deeply against the metal shaft of Luke’s saber.

One second he was sucking on a particularly sensitive part of Luke’s lower jaw and the next second he felt something like electricity shoot through his left thigh and down his leg.

“Ow! Kriff!”

Luke also flinched, his hand pulling away from Din and immediately going towards his side. “Oh! I’m so sorry.”

Din winced and pulled away so he could rub at his leg. “It’s ok.”

Luke’s eyes flicked to Din. “Not you.” His hand closed around the saber and his eyes fluttered closed. “I was apologizing to my crystal.”

Was it just Din’s imagination, or was there a slight hum in the air? A mix of electricity, the sound of a X-Wing’s engine, and a soft metal chime.

Din’s hand immediately went to the Darksaber. He felt nothing.

“They don’t like the feeling of your armor pressed against their casing,” Luke explained as his eyes opened.

A thousand questions rushed into Din’s head but all that came out was “They?”

Luke shrugged. “They prefer they/them as their pronouns in Basic.”

Din swallowed nervously. “They being the kyber crystal in your lightsaber,” he clarified.

“Yes.” Luke looked apologetic. “I think it’s the Force damping properties of beskar, it bothers them. It’s interesting, the Darksaber never said anything about that before.”

The Darksaber. Talked to his ...to Luke. Din’s grip tightened on the Darksaber and in the back of his mind he was bewildered to realize he felt the slightest pang of jealousy.

He pushed away the feeling and thought for a minute before he spoke. “Do they...have a name?”

The look Luke gave him could only be described as ‘fond’. “They’re a kyber crystal, they don’t identify like that.”

Of course, they kriffing didn’t. Din had a dozen more questions about the nature of kyber crystal identity and how they were sentient enough for pronouns but not names, but he squashed all of them in favor of the most important one. “Does the Darksaber use pronouns?”

Luke tilted his head, perhaps asking Din’s saber silently. “The Darksaber....identifies as The Darksaber.” Luke sighed. “The Darksaber has a very unique presence in the Force.”

The Darksaber finally gave Din a slight pulse against his palm. The sensation reminded Din of a massiff headbutting his hand for attention. He gave it a reassuring pat.

“You looked disturbed.” Luke held out both of his hands for Din again.

“I’m….thinking,” Din admitted, but he let Luke pull him close again.

“As much as I treasure the ability to watch you think, I was really enjoying making you stop.” Luke leaned to press his lips lightly against Din’s chin. He knew that even the gentlest touches were still intense to Din after his many years of covering his face. He only needed to caress Din’s cheek with the tip of his nose and he was a boneless mess in the shorter man’s arms.

“But we should go to my room and put the sabers away first,” Luke sighed in between nips to Din’s neck. “It’s not like they’ve consented to any of this.”

That was like a burst of ice against Din’s back. He pulled back in shock, only to see a wicked grin spread across Luke’s face. He giggled and Din swatted at his ass.

“That’s not funny.”

“My crystal thought so,” Luke laughed. Then before Din could pout Luke grabbed one of his hands so he could lead him back towards his room.

That night they were very careful to lay the sabers side by side on the softest cushion in Luke’s room. Just in case.

—---

It was possible that Luke’s kyber crystal had enjoyed riling Din up because after that night he became more aware of the crystal’s presence. It started with Din hearing the strange starfighter/wind chime noise more frequently. When Luke appeared content or when he was in deep mediation, Din would hear the hum emanate from Luke’s side. In the rare moments when Luke lost his patience or became annoyed, the air around him would become charged with static electricity. When Luke held Grogu close or laughed at something that Din said the hum would shift to a vibration that reminded Din of a Tooka’s purr. Eventually--he wasn’t quite sure when--he started to hear the crystal every day.

But where Luke’s crystal was loud, the Darksaber remained mostly silent. It didn’t seem to respond to any of Din’s moods nor did it react when he tried to talk to it, both out loud and in his mind. The only time it reacted at all was when it was used.

When Luke and Din spared, the Darksaber would finally open up and pulse like a living breathing creature. The longer Din practiced with Luke, the more the Darksaber seemed to come to life. Perhaps it was his imagination, but there were times when the Darksaber seemed to become heavier in his grip when he needed a steady blow but as light as a vibroknife when he needed to reach. Din wasn't Force-sensitive and he couldn’t make the saber come to his hand with his mind, but it soon became clear that no other Mandalorian was going to disarm him. It was like it was glued to his hand in combat and only Luke had the power to part the blade from Din’s grip.

Din asked Luke once why the Darksaber never seemed to hum like Luke’s crystal.

“Well. My crystal has never partnered with another sentient before. It’s very young compared to the Darksaber. The Darksaber is ancient even for a kyber crystal and it and has passed hands so many times. The experiences it has had, the lives it ended or saved are so incomprehensible to the average human, so there’s no way for me to tell you why it reacts to you the way it does.”

Din had frowned at that. “Are you saying the Darksaber is traumatized?”

Luke had shrugged. “I’m saying I have no idea. All I know is it’s chosen to be with you.”

Maybe the Jedi said that to make Din comfortable but if anything it made him feel worse. At least Luke’s saber sounded like it liked him. It gave off an aura of warmth and the soft chimes and hums it made seemed to fit the Jedi’s personality like a true partner. He didn’t have that any of that with the silent Darksaber.

Or least that’s what he’d assumed until the day when they encountered the Sith.

—--

Technically, it was an Inquisitor, which Solo would repeatedly remind Din of later. She wasn’t a fully trained Sith. But then, what did any of them know about the Sith? Even Luke’s knowledge had gaps. The Inquisitor was dressed in all black skimpy clothing that looked like it wouldn’t protect her from a strong breeze, let alone a battle. She had the exact same lack of common sense that Luke had by refusing to wear armor. Truthfully, she looked like a diseased womp rat, with beady yellow eyes, equally yellow sharp teeth. Even her lightsaber was ridiculous, all sharp with unnecessary spikes along the hilt. She didn’t have a name, just a number and she wanted nothing more than to murder Luke. Seemed Sith-y enough for Din.

The fight between Luke, Din and the Inquisitor was intense. Despite her decrepit appearance, the Inquisitor fought like a woman with nothing to lose. Where Luke’s strikes were powerful with purpose in each swing, hers were wild and chaotic and her randomness and desperation was slowly pushing the battle to her favor. Soon their sabers moved too fast for Din’s eyes to follow. After wasting precious moments trying to follow, he gave up and focused all of his attention on the monitor in his HUD that was monitoring Luke’s heat signature. He watched and waited.

When the monitor suddenly detected a heat spike, it coincided with a choked gasp from Luke. That’s when the Darksaber was vibrating in Din’s hands before he was even fully aware of it. His body was moving before Luke’s could land on the ground.

Din didn’t scream–the Darksaber did with a howling sound that reminded Din of the booming scream of a detonator, the wail of a child, and the growl of blaster fire. He felt warmth pour out of the hilt in his hands and wrap itself around until there was pressure against his shoulders, molded to him like his own beskar’gam. The Darksaber pulled Din’s arms and he instinctively followed; he went just low enough so the red saber nicked the top of his helmet. Instead of shooting up, the Darksaber pulled him around, like a child’s top. He stuck out his leg and the Inquisitor went flying with a rageful screech.

He could feel the Darksaber like he never had before, still vibrating like the aftermath of an explosion, its warmth wrapped around his arms just like beskar. For a moment he even thought he saw something shimmering, reaching out to Luke as he lay stunned from the deep burn in his side.

Before Din’s brain could start to panic he felt something pull his chin away from Luke and towards the Inquisitor. The Darksaber brought him back into the battle and directed his gaze past the still screaming woman to the abandoned silver hilt lying abandoned in the dirt behind her.

Din is not Force-sensitive.

But kyber crystals are and that is how Din suddenly ended up with a green blade in his left hand.

Both Din and Luke did not how to duel weld.

The Darksaber did.

It pulled back so that Luke’s crystal could wrap itself around Din like cool water that flowed along his forearm and wrist. Where the Darksaber growled, Luke’s saber sang. It moved Din’s left hand defensively while Din’s right hand attacked. Every time the Insquistior tried to harm the crystals’ partners, they helped move Din’s arms up in ways he only vaguely recognized from Luke’s training. Together they managed to push back the Inquisitor long enough until her saber was pinned under twin blades, leaving her face unprotected.

Which allowed an injured Luke to finish the battle. He pulled Din’s beskar staff off his back and directly into the Inquisitor’s neck with the Force. Din didn’t even flinch as blood splattered onto his helmet’s visor. He was too distracted by the harmonizing hum that flooded him from both the Darksaber and Luke’s saber. They sang together in a type of kyber crystal victory song that shook Din’s entire body and it didn’t leave him even after he clipped both sabers into his belt and rushed back to Luke. The Jedi didn’t have the strength to say anything but Din could tell that he heard it by the look of awe and wonder in his tired eyes.

—---------

The two crystals continued to hum softly as he carried Luke back to his ship. The Darksaber steadied Din’s shaking hands as he tried to bandage Luke’s wound with bacta. It was Luke’s crystal that pulled his attention back to the cockpit so he could direct their ship to the closest inhabited planet for medical help. When Luke was taken into surgery, the crystals comforted Din with tendrils of warmth pressed along his arms and around his chest. They stayed wrapped around his body until Din was finally allowed back into Luke’s hospital room and was seated by his side.

He felt Luke’s crystal finally leave him as he gently brushed some loose hair from the Jedi’s sleeping face. His left hand tingled as the crystal slowly slid down his fingers and into Luke’s forehead, disappearing into the other man, like particles of dust being blown off his fingertips by the wind. Luke smiled in his sleep and something shifted inside of Din and he felt himself relax.

He slowly moved his right hand towards the Darksaber on his hilt. This time, he felt the saber pulse under his palm.

Thank you, he told the Darksaber silently. Thank you.

The Darksaber hummed back, satisfied.

#tene my beloved #the world needs more bestie Darksaber #like the only time the Darksaber possesses Din is emergency battle tactics and when the man needs a nap #he's great on road trips #I want more Darksaber in love with Din damnit #Luke's crystal on the other hand is a little shit #it likes to chime at inappropriate times like sex #it keeps asking to be dumped into a cup of caf and Luke refuses #don't want to see that crystal caffeinated thats for damn sure #Luke's kyber crystal is a hyperactive dog that craves violence #The Darksaber is a no fucks given cat #sbficlets #dinluke

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kaislittleheadliner · 4 years ago

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Got any Colin Zabel headcanons 👀

Truth be told, I've never actually done headcanons before, but I'm more than willing to give it a shot. These go much faster than a full fic/ficlet, so that’s why these are out so quick. I hope this is okay, friend! Enjoy! :3

If you want on or off my taglist, please don't hesitate to let me know!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Miscellaneous Colin Zabel Headcanons

Colin Zabel x GN!Reader

[A/N: I've seen exactly 0% of 'Mare of Easttown,' so these are absolutely speculation only.]

Word Count: 456

Warnings: Fluff, Colin Zabel, very slightly suggestive language, idk these aren't really inappropriate.

~*~

On cold nights, Colin loves nothing more than being a snuggle bug with his s/o. TLDR: Blanket + cold night + cuddles = Happy Colin

Colin makes the best coffee in the whole entire world, and once he knows your coffee order, he remembers it forever.

In fact, if he knows both your name and your coffee order, your coffee order comes to mind first when he pictures your face. Then your name. Because coffee.

Baby boy would easily be late for work if he left his coffee behind. If he realized when he’d already gotten to the office and you managed to bring it to him before he could head back for it, Colin would one hundred thousand percent pull you into an empty closet/office and make out with you. After all, he has to show you how grateful he is. ;)

Colin’s first sip of coffee is always at home, because he can’t help the involuntary moan that slips out as he tastes the dark, steaming liquid for the first time each morning.

He was embarrassed the first time he did that in front of his s/o. He tried to apologize, but it turned into a sexy morning. ;)

No matter what time of the day, Colin’s kisses taste like coffee.

You cannot tell me that Colin’s groom’s cake at his wedding would be anything but coffee cake. The boy is a-d-d-i-c-t-e-d. And so am I if I’m writing this many headcanons involving him and coffee.

Speaking of his wedding, Colin marrying his s/o after all the trauma he’s been through with his ex would make him both nervous and excited as hell.

He would be pacing back and forth in his tux. I can imagine he’d have his mom check that his s/o was still there before he went out to take his place at the altar.

Right up until the moment his s/o walks out in their gown/tux, he’s a nervous wreck, wondering if they’re actually going to marry him.

But when he sees them walking out, he’d smile so wide his face would feel as though it was about to split apart. There would be tears in his eyes, and he’d be a mess - but a happy mess.

Once the two of you have said your vows, he’d dip you into the most romantic kiss this universe has ever seen.

Colin wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you the whole rest of the evening, even at the reception. He likes to keep physical contact, because it grounds him and reminds him that this is real - that he’s not dreaming this all up.

Most of all, Colin loves his s/o more than anything - even more than coffee.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Taglist: @anonymushhy @booboomother-deactivated2021071 @evanmybeloved @spider-starry @thelasthargreeves

#colin zabel #detective colin zabel #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel headcanons #kaislittleheadliner fics #Mare of Easttown #sfw #request fics

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likeshipsonthesea · 5 years ago

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Pls !!

Pls post the ayuan and lan zhan ficlet u wrote 🥺 !!! We would love to read it !!

sorry for the late response, i didn’t have a chance to edit until last night and i thought your ask would be the perfect way to avoid having to title this lmao. here is the yuan and lan zhan ficlet!! it takes place ~somewhat early~ in lan zhan’s seclusion following wei wuxian’s death and yuan is about idk five??

anyway, enjoy :))

Yuan lays awake in a large, quiet room. He can’t be sure, but it feels as if it’s been hours since the caretaker put him to bed, and still he has yet to fall asleep. Instead, he listens to the emptiness around him and tries to blink away the monsters his mind conjures from the murky darkness around him. It doesn’t work.

He doesn’t remember exactly why, but he thinks that this is wrong. Lying alone in a room full of empty beds. Beds should be full, of people snoring and talking in their sleep, of people who sing Yuan lullabies before bed and hold him when he wakes from nightmares. He doesn’t know why he thinks this – it isn’t as if these things have happened in Cloud Recesses. All he knows is that the quiet and the dark and the loneliness is worse than anything else in the world.

Knowing it’s against the rules, Yuan gets out of bed. He crosses to the window, where he can look out at the courtyard beyond his room, moonlit and bright. No one is out this late, but the light makes it better anyway. It’s cool in the mountains at night, even in summer. A breeze drifts in and Yuan shivers, missing the warmth of his blankets, but he can’t return to the darkness, not without –

The courtyard is full of what seems to be millions of white pebbles, glittering like tiny moons as far as he can see. Yuan likes the moon. The moon is bright and smiling and always watching, always stays awake when the world gets quiet.

“Don’t worry, A-Yuan,” a voice said to him, once. “I’ll keep watch while you sleep and make sure the nightmares can’t find you.” He doesn’t remember who said it, but he remembers the safety he’d felt. The moon – the moon feels like that.

Another breeze sends Yuan shivering. Maybe – maybe if he could bring the moon back to bed with him, the nightmares and the loneliness and the darkness wouldn’t be able to find him. Mind suddenly made up, he crawls out of the window, taking careful, barefoot steps across the warm, wooden boardwalk to the courtyard full of little moons. He grabs a handful and peruses them.

One has dirt smudged over it, so he tosses it back, and one is missing a chunk like someone got so hungry they just couldn’t help themselves and, with a giggle at the thought, he puts that one back, too. He goes through the pebbles, weighing each one’s advantages until he comes to the final pair.

Hands flat to the sky, one moon perched in the center of each palm, he brings the pebbles to his face for a better look. They are both seemingly perfect. Smooth, unblemished little circles, each one shimmering, smiling, equal in every way. Yuan frowns.

How can he pick just one? Both pebbles are perfect and if he chooses one over the other, he will surely hurt that one’s feelings. But he can’t take both! Two moons for one boy! How greedy can he be?

So troubled is he by this conundrum that he almost doesn’t hear the soft music breaking the dark silence of the night.

But with another gust of mountain air comes low, drawn-out notes, unlike anything Yuan has ever heard. He’s heard music before – his uncle plays his xiao for Yuan sometimes at their weekly dinners and, before that, he thinks someone who loved him played him lullabies on a dizi – but never has Yuan heard something like the song the wind carries now.

It makes him feel sad, a little, without really knowing why, but he’s used to that. More than that, though, it sounds like magic. The stories the caretakers read him sometimes have music. Young maidens singing songs of longing for their cultivators to rescue them, clever heroes distracting ghouls with witty tunes. Yuan has long thought up his own stories in these veins, though his tend more towards – towards a song that drifts in from the woods, that only Yuan can hear. It guides Yuan to a secret house where his parents have been waiting for him. Here, they hug him and smile, tell him they love him, tell him they never meant to leave him, tell him they’ll never do it again.

Yuan knows the rules. The caretakers read the rules for him more than they read him the stories. He knows he shouldn’t go off into the woods at night. He shouldn’t have climbed out the window either, though. Yuan thinks about it really hard for a moment and then decides that, if he’s already done something wrong, he might as well do this, too.

Yuan hasn’t a clue where such a thought comes from – Heaven knows he didn’t learn it in Cloud Recesses – but it seems logically sound to him. So, a moon clutched in either hand, he follows the music out of the courtyard, off of the porch, and into the trees beyond.

With bare feet and little legs, it feels like ages that he walks. He steps over pointy things that hurt his toes and hurries across cold stones that send chills up his legs. Once, the music stops, and Yuan holds his breath and his two moons tightly and almost begins to cry before another song appears, different than the one before. Where the last one was sad, this one is light, soaring and settling and sighing with fond notes, so loud in the darkened forest.

Not long after that song begins, Yuan comes to a clearing. Sprouting from the center of it is an understated home with a lantern flickering in its window. Yuan breaks into a sprint, heedless of the twigs that catch on his soles, doesn’t even wait to knock before tearing open the doors and stumbling inside.

At a low table sits a man dressed in all white, fingers poised but paused over the strings of a guqin. He looks at Yuan with a nearly passive expression, excepting the too-wideness of his eyes. He looks – familiar. Yuan doesn’t remember his parents, but this must be – he has to be –

“Baba?”

The man startles. “A-Yuan,” he says, and Yuan’s small heart goes shooting around in his chest. He knows Yuan’s name. He knows Yuan’s name.

“Baba.”

Yuan rushes to his father’s side, collapses next to him and buries his face in the fabric of his baba’s robes. With the stones still in his hands, he can’t tangle his fingers in the robes the way he wants to, he can only press his fists as tight to his father’s chest as he can.

He only realizes that he’s crying when Baba’s hand settles on his shaking back. He doesn’t know why he’s crying – he’s anything but sad – but Baba doesn’t tell him to stop or to meditate like the caregivers do, he just lets Yuan cry into his chest until he can take a breath without it shivering in his throat.

“A-Yuan,” Baba says again, in a soft, low voice Yuan wishes he could remember, “how did you come here?”

Yuan sniffles. “The music.” Did Baba not mean to call him? Did he not want to see Yuan?

“No one stopped you?”

“Everyone’s asleep,” Yuan says. He pulls away far enough to crane his neck back and peer at Baba’s face. “I climbed out the window.”

Baba doesn’t smile, but something in the way his mouth moves makes Yuan think that he wants to.

“Going out alone is not safe,” Baba says, but it doesn’t sound like the scolding the caregivers give. It sounds softer.

“I’m safe,” Yuan says, still defensive, at least a little. He hates punishments, especially the ones where they leave him alone to copy rules. He hates being alone.

Baba hums mildly and looks at Yuan’s feet. Kneeling as he is, the soles of his feet face the room, and the stings and scrapes he suffered on the trip over are visible. Yuan notices, then, the small spot of blood he’s made on the rug and begins to cry again.

He turns and buries his face in Baba’s side again, rushing through the words like all the breath from his lungs has disappeared. “I’m sorry, Baba, please don’t leave again, I’ll be good, I promise, I won’t do it again, please don’t go, please.”

Baba stiffens and Yuan cries harder. He doesn’t want Baba to leave, he doesn’t want the silence and the darkness and the caregivers who leave and let the nightmares find him, he wants Baba to hug him and tell him he’ll keep him safe and hold him when he wakes up in the middle of the night feeling like he’s been left alone in the world.

“A-Yuan,” Baba says softly, “let us clean you up.”

Baba picks Yuan up and he clings harder. Baba has to untangle Yuan’s arms around his neck when he kneels to place Yuan on the bed. He says, “I will be right back,” and crosses the room to take out a box before returning just as he said. Yuan’s tears slow as Baba kneels in front of him.

Baba takes a piece of cloth from the box at his side and wets it before bringing it gently to the soles of Yuan’s feet. He wipes away the blood and dirt and lifts Yuan’s foot to examine the cuts. He takes out a funny smelling jar and puts the stuff in it on Yuan’s foot. It tickles. Yuan laughs.

Baba looks up when he laughs. His mouth does the not-smile thing but his eyes look sad. “Dont be sad, Baba,” Yuan says. Baba hums and looks back at Yuan’s feet.

When he’s done, he returns the items to the box and returns the box to its place before he comes back to kneel in front of Yuan again. Yuan thinks that Baba isn’t mad – he wouldn’t be so nice if he were mad, right? – but he isn’t sure, so he says nothing, just watches Baba watching him.

“A-Yuan,” he says, after a very long time, “I didn’t want to leave you.”

Yuan’s heart beats too fast in his chest. It’s what he’s wondered about, ever since he asked Uncle where his parents were and Uncle didn’t tell him. If they were dead, Uncle could’ve just said, but he didn’t, which meant, maybe, that they’d just left. Left Yuan. Didn’t want Yuan.

Baba reaches out and Yuan holds his breath. Baba’s hand stops a few breaths away and Yuan squeezes his moons so tight it hurts. After another moment, Baba’s fingers brush away some stray hairs from Yuan’s forehead, thumb smoothing over his hairline.

“Can I stay with you?” Yuan whispers, afraid that, if he’s too loud, someone will hear him and come and take him back.

Baba shakes his head, a short gesture. “You must stay with the Sect.”

Yuan hates that the tears come again, hates how they make Baba’s eyes go tight. “Why?”

“They can take care of you,” Baba says quietly. “I cannot.”

“Forever?”

“No.” Baba’s thumb brushes against his skin again. “Just for now.”

“Can I visit?”

Baba frowns. He seems to think about it for a moment. “We will see,” he says. “You cannot walk here in the dark again. It is not safe.”

Yuan nods. He doesn’t want to upset Baba. But, he has to ask – “Do you want me to visit?”

Baba nods without hesitation. “Very much.”

Yuan smiles and, careful of his sore feet, throws himself forward into Baba’s arms. Baba huffs in surprise but holds Yuan close, his big hands warm on Yuan’s back.

He holds Yuan for quite some time – not enough, though – before he says, “You must return.”

Yuan holds on tighter but nods. Baba stands, Yuan still in his arms, and carries him out of the house. Yuan thinks he’s going to be put down, once they’re outside, but Baba carries him through the woods the whole way. Yuan presses his cheek to Baba’s chest and listens to his heart beating. He thinks this is what parents are for, to hold you in the dark, to keep you safe. He doesn’t know if Baba is the voice in his memories – he sounds too different – but he knows that Baba must love him the same, love him enough to stay up all night and keep the nightmares away, if he could.

When they get back to Yuan’s big room with all the empty beds, Baba very quietly and gracefully steps through the window. Yuan giggles. Baba says nothing, but his mouth does the not-smile, and he lays Yuan in his bed and pulls the blankets up to his chin.

“Will you stay?” Yuan asks, suddenly so tired, in the comfort of his bed, Baba watching over him.

“I cannot,” Baba says, eyes sad again. Yuan swallows hard. Baba can’t stay. Yuan will be alone, with the dark and the empty beds, alone with no one to watch over him again—

Yuan remembers the moons and gasps, opening both of his palms. Baba’s eyebrows raise a little. Yuan turns and places one moon on the table next to his bed. It shines and shimmers and smiles. It will keep the nightmares away, while Baba cannot. Yuan looks to the other moon, warm in his hand, and looks back to Baba.

Baba must return, now, to his own empty room. He will have to blow out the lantern and lie down to sleep in silence and darkness, just like Yuan.

Yuan holds out the pair to his perfect moon. Baba stares at it. Yuan explains, “To keep the nightmares away.”

Baba stares at the pebble some more. After quite a long time, he reaches out with careful fingers and takes the moon. “Thank you, A-Yuan,” he says, quiet, the not-smile on his lips.

Yuan beams sleepily. His eyelids drag heavy, leaving him blinking slowly as he tries to stay awake as long as he can, take in as much of Baba as he can, while he can. But Baba smooths his free hand over Yuan’s blankets, brushes warm fingers against his hair. It feels—it just feels so nice. Yuan can’t fight the sleep that embraces him.

“Goodnight, A-Yuan,” he hears, soft and low, when his eyes shut and refuse to open again.

“G’night, Baba,” Yuan says around a yawn.

He doesn’t remember Baba leaving. In the morning, he wakes up alone in the room full of empty beds, the sunlight still cold and thin, early as it is. Yuan shivers with it, wondering if it had all been a dream, one of his dearest dreams, a dream where his parents, his baba, loves him and wants him and never wanted to leave him. It’s like the made-up stories the caretakers tell him. It can’t be true.

But then Yuan turns, sees the perfect round moon sitting on his bedside table, and he knows. He knows Baba loves him.

#the untamed #lan zhan #lan sizhui #a-yuan #fic #ficlet #sort of fic #my writing #lan wangji #lan yuan #wen yuan #how does one tag for the untamed fandom #anyway #i love them like a whole bunch #i wish i had time to writeeee #i'm still playing around with characterization and stuff but i hope this fits???#writing kids is also so hard lol

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falcon-eye · 5 years ago

Text

Another ficlet featuring Cat OCs which will eventually become a part of a bigger story from @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! This one kinda got away from me, Idk. I wanted to include a little more info on my Cats but after a while I felt like I was rambling. I also feel like the tone is kinda all over the place. I like what I wrote, but Idk about how I wrote it, if that makes any sense. And I’m not satisfied with the ending. I also hope the “deal” makes sense too. Idk. I’m just generally sorry for how weird this one turned out. Any questions, even if they’re just about the characters, please shoot them my way! Hope you enjoy!

The Law of Surprise had never steered Veko wrong. Well, ok, that wasn’t exactly true. It had never fucked him over, anyway. Well...

Ok, see, many, many years before the White Wolf began his reign, Veko and his twin brother Hamra had been traveling with the Cat School’s caravan. They always had, ever since becoming Witchers, although they sometimes broke off for hunts either alone or with each other. Siblings were rare among Witchers, twins especially, and identical twins even more so. Plus, Hamra was... gentle—for a Witcher anyway. He hardly made eye contact and often didn’t talk until absolutely necessary for days at a time, often using signs when he didn’t want to (or couldn’t) speak. Veko was used to it, often either being able to decipher his brother’s signs and gestures, or filing in the blanks himself. This also meant he was frequently his brother’s “translator” of sorts. Despite mostly taking hunts together though, Veko, like everyone else in the caravan, needed a break from time to time. Especially from his brother’s guilty looks.

It’s common knowledge that Cats are the more... emotional of all Witchers, prone to mood swings, rages, and the occasional bloodlust. It’s just how the mutagens made them, as much a fact as the sky was blue. Didn’t make it any easier on any of them, though. Veko knew this all too well.

Although Hamra was quiet, generally incredibly awkward and painfully shy, he too could and had been taken over by his emotions. And unfortunately, Veko was always in the line of fire—literally. The fight had been... stupid. Probably. Now, years later, neither twin can remember what the it was even about, and none of the other Cats were paying enough attention to care. Hamra was too enraged to remember what happened and Veko. Well, Veko, whether he was trying to calm Hamra down or was truly fighting with him, took an Igni to the face at basically point blank range. Sure, the smell of cooking monster was one Witchers eventually got used to, but as it turns out, the smell of your own brother’s flesh burning from his face and neck snaps you out of a rage pretty well.

Veko was out of commission for quite a while, by Witcher standards. The left side of his face, from under his eye down his neck, and disappearing beneath his armor, was a permanent web of tight, puckered scarring. It wasn’t bad enough to lose his ear or anything, thankfully, and no actual holes in his skin, but it was big and grotesque enough that there was no possible way to hide it unless he covered his entire face. So Hamra had to look at his greatest mistake every time he looked at his brother, and Veko had to deal with the sour smell of guilt pouring off of his brother almost every waking moment.

So, yeah, he needed a break and a solo hunt every once in a while.

This one was about as basic as they get; bunch of drowners terrorizing a local village, no problem. Veko took them out with ease. Or so he thought. Going back to the village to claim his pay, he heard an old man crying for help and realized one of the drowners had broken off from the others. Just great.

The old man and the drowner both were stuck in thick mud, a pathetic sight as the man frantically tried to free himself as the drowner clawed at him. Veko literally walked up next to the creature and decapitating it, yanking the old man out of the mud while still in mid swing.

“Witcher!” the old man cried, his knees nearly buckling once he was on solid ground. “Oh thank you Witcher! How could I ever repay you?!”

Sheathing his swords, Veko chuckled. “I mean, coin never hurts.”

As Veko wiped the mud from his face, revealing his burns, the man paled. “I-I don’t... I-I don’t have any money on me,” he said. “Please, sir, there must be something else I can give you!“

Veko sighed. “Not a problem,” he said. “How about this—first thing you see when you get home, I’ll take that. I’ve got to get my pay from your village anyway. Why don’t I stop by your house in the morning?”

The old man nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes sir Witcher!” he exclaimed. “I live on the edge of town, just a little farm, the one with the blue roof.”

“Blue roof,” Veko said, squinting at the old man. “Yeah, it’s suits you.”

The old man looked confused, but Veko waved him off and walked back to the village with him. Luckily, the alderman didn’t scrimp him over on pay, but it still wasn’t a great amount. However, despite actually being paid the amount he was promised, the local inn just so happened to be completely full. Whatever, you win some, you lose some. Pocketing his coin, Veko led his horse a little ways out of town and reluctantly set up camp.

Veko’s horse was a dun gelding, one of the several Law of Surprise claims and other non-coin payments Veko had made over the years. Once, he’d gotten a literal chicken dinner from a family (which he shared with them, godsdamned his bleeding heart). Another time, an old woman he’d saved from a werewolf offered him and Hamra her home for the night, and taught Veko how to knit when he couldn’t sleep. The horse was relatively new, having picked him up from a farmer with a bad wolf problem, and didn’t give two shits about the Witcher. Which was fine by Veko. He wasn’t close with his horses like some Witchers were. This was his eighth horse, appropriately named Eight.

Eight was a bastard of an animal, constantly biting at Veko’s fingers, clothes, weapons—really anything he could reach. He’d also literally kicked Veko in the ass a few times, and once right in the balls, to the entire caravan’s delight. Eight was also a particular fan of loudly chewing the bark off of whatever tree he was tethered to, which made trying to get peace and quiet a bitch. Not-so-secretly, Veko was hoping whatever the old man saw when he got back to his house was a different horse. It was too expensive to buy another one, and despite the fact that he and Eight hated each other, he’d never wish harm upon the animal. He just wanted to be rid of him, that’s all.

But when he arrived at the old man’s home the next day, horse, chicken dinner, knitting lessons—none of it came even close to what was waiting for him.

A petite woman in a pale blue dress covered in splatters of paint slammed the front door open as he approached. Her hair, brunette, was up in an approximation of a bun, but it was hard to tell as it was so messily put together and curled wildly where it escaped.

Veko saw the exact moment she saw his burn scars, but to his surprise, only faltered for a moment. “Witcher!” she shouted, marching right up to Veko and poking a paint-stained finger to his chest. “You can turn around and leave right now!”

Veko blinked down at her. “Uh, excuse me,” he scoffed, “I came here to get my payment. Who the hell are you?”

“Your bloody payment,” the girl hissed, throwing her arms out. “Surprise!”

“Eloise!” the old man Veko had saved came rushing out of his house, taking the woman’s hands in his. “Please, Eloise—“

“What in the hell is going on here?!” Veko exclaimed, making the old man flinch but the woman—Eloise—stood her ground.

“You asked my father to give you the first thing he saw when he came home, right?” she snapped. “Well I answered the bloody door, Witcher.”

Veko took a step back and raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok, so this is just all a misunderstanding, I get it. I’ll just—“

“No, no!” the old man exclaimed as Veko turned back to his horse. “Please, Witcher, it’s the Law of Surprise, it’s destiny!”

“Fuck destiny,” Eloise spat. Veko had to agree. But the old man was frantic now.

“To-to go against destiny—“ he continued, before breaking off into a hacking coughing fit that actually had Veko concerned the man would drop right there.

Eloise calmed her father down and held him until his coughing subsided. “Please, papa, you’re going to overwhelm yourself.”

“Eloise, my darling,” the man choked out, “this is all my fault, but please, you cannot go against the Law of Surprise!”

Veko watched the two for a moment before clearing his throat. “Maybe—maybe we can work something out,” he said. Obviously the man was only getting more and more worked up as the conversation went on.

Eloise glared at Veko for a moment before crossing her arms. “It’s ok, papa,” she said, still glaring, “I’ll talk with the Witcher and sort this whole thing out.”

“Y-yeah,” Veko said. “Um. Do you wanna...?”

Eloise grabbed him—actually grabbed him, the balls on this woman!—by the arm and dragged him behind the house, towards a small stable and paddock where a few goats were housed.

“Alright, Witcher, listen,” Eloise snapped. “I don’t believe in all this ‘destiny’ bollocks. The Law of Surprise is bullshit.”

“Hey, I’m with you there,” Veko said. “I normally get like livestock or food or stuff like that.”

Eloise sighed and bit at her nail, staring out across the paddock. “My father believes in all of it,” she said. “My mother died when I was young. Destiny, papa always said. It’s garbage. But my father... he’s very old. I need to take care of him. Whether I believed in all that shit or not, Witcher, I cannot come with you.”

“And I don’t want you to!” Veko exclaimed. “I can barely take care of my horse properly, let alone a human. You’d get killed or something. Why would I want you to come with me?”

Eloise scoffed. “I can think of one reason,” she said bitterly. Veko rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, I’ve got two hands and enough coin set aside for that.”

Eloise actually cracked a tiny grin. “Regardless,” she said, “my father isn’t going to let this go. And I don’t want this to work him up anymore than it already has. I’m afraid for his health.”

“What do you suggest?” Veko asked.

Eloise thought for a moment. Veko’s scar started to itch. It always did at awkward moments, or at least it seemed to anyway, and this was about the most awkward situation Veko had ever been in. This woman was actually... strangely intimidating! Veko turned away to scratch at his face, which seemed to break Eloise out of her thoughts.

“Do you... want something for that?” she asked. “We have some salves in the house just... in case we...”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Veko said as she trailed off in thought. After another moment, Eloise suddenly clapped her hands together.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed. “I know how we can appease my father and still make this work.”

Veko nodded awkwardly. “That’s... good, yeah. Um—“

“This will be your home,” Eloise interrupted.

“I don’t follow.”

“Simple,” Eloise stuck a finger in the air. “You’re a Witcher—you travel. So you must spend a lot of the money you earn at inns and on food and things.”

“Or I just sleep outside,” Veko cut in. Eloise waved him off.

“We could tell my father that the Surprise you’ve claimed is the right to come here and stay whenever you’re in the area. Or rather, the right to my home as your home.”

“How does that factor you into it, though?” Veko asked.

“Technically my father saw the house before he saw me,” Eloise replied. “Plus, we could say that I’m a part of the house, that I keep it for you. Or that the house and I are a package deal.”

Veko crossed his arms. “Do you think he’d buy that?”

Eloise crossed her arms back. “He will if you say it.”

Veko ran a hand through his hair and blew out a puff of air. “This is crazy,” he said.

“You claimed the Law of Surprise, Witcher,” Eloise snapped, “not me.”

Veko started scratching his scar in earnest now. “Ok, but what about the village? What are they going to say about you being ‘claimed’ by a Witcher?”

“Frankly I don’t give a damn what they think.”

“What if you want to get married someday?”

Eloise guffawed. “See, that’s the other thing,” she said. “I don’t want to get married. Ever. Having a Witcher ‘claim’ me as his would get every man in town to leave me well alone. This helps all of us.”

As Veko thought on it, Eloise slapped his hand away from scratching his face again. At his shocked face, she merely glared back.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he said. Eloise grinned.

“Why, because I’m not afraid of you?” She laughed. “You bleed just like the rest of us, Witcher. So what do you say?”

Eloise held out her hand and for a moment, Veko actually hesitated. Not because of the deal itself, but because this woman was truly unafraid of him, of seemingly anything, and it made him feel... vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. After a moment, Veko gently took her hand—and wow, she had a hell of a grip for a human woman, too! “Deal,” Veko said.

“Now to tell my father,” Eloise said, already starting to drag the Witcher back around the house.

As it turned out, Eloise’s father was thrilled with the idea. Eloise could stay with her father, destiny would be satisfied or whatever, and Veko would get free food and lodging whenever he was around (which probably wouldn’t be for a very long time anyway). The only problem was that Eloise’s father seemed to take Veko “claiming” his daughter and home as... well... essentially Eloise settling down with the Witcher “to start a family”. Veko was mortified but Eloise just smiled and nodded, going along with what her father said until he looked away and giving Veko a look that meant under no uncertain terms would that ever be happening.

A few details still had to be hashed out, but Veko wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this town as possible. How the hell had a drowner contract produced this much trouble?

Later, Veko reunited with the Cat caravan and Hamra. His brother chuckled softly at whatever look was on Veko’s face, and when Hamra signed asking how his hunt was, Veko groaned.

“Took out some drowners,” he said. “And... and Ham, I think... I think I got fucking married.”

Hamra actually burst out laughing, the first time the smell of surprise and amusement replaced the sour guilt that hung to his brother like a cloud, and Veko couldn’t help but join him.

Fuck the Law of Surprise, Veko thought. Never using that again.

#the witcher #inexplicifics #accidental warlord au #falcon writes #witcher oc

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offtopicoverload · 5 years ago

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Saturday Night

Aurora only wanted to drink and waste her night, to ignore all the stress of Edenbrook for once and give herself a slight hangover to deal with Sunday morning. Until Casey Valentine showed up, her words slightly slurred as she dragged Aurora towards the dance floor.

Just a little ficlet separate from Disney Princess on request of @aleiramacaii, hope I did alright on it. Also, idk how to dance, I just made up whatever lmao

(And sorry that it's been a week since I posted anything, I'm usually more active, but this week has just been pretty stressful and busy and I haven't been confident in writing so I just haven't. I won't vent on this fic, no worries, but if I don't post as often as usual for a bit, there's your explanation lol. And if anyone has any questions about specific fics or requests, my inbox is always open, for literally anything <3)

T Rating (nothing too bad, just some slight nasty lmao)

Aurora Emery x f!MC (Casey Valentine)

~2.8k (pretty short compared to other ficlets, but oh well)

Sharp, staccatoed beats fill the space around Aurora as her nails echo on the wooden bar, a steady pattern to pass the time as she drinks the night away. It’s another evening spent at Donahue’s, surrounded by colleagues she doesn’t like - can barely even stand, in all honesty - as they dance and shout and get drunk before a day off or after a particularly stressful shift, before another difficult day or after the rare occurrence of a slow week, Aurora doesn’t care.

She doesn’t care why everyone’s spending their Saturday throwing back shots and letting sweat soak their clothes as they gyrate to mediocre music, and she doesn’t even care why she’s sitting alone, slowly draining cocktails at this point. She just wants to enjoy the numbness provoked by the bass thumping from speakers lining the dance floor, the constant hum of drunken, slurred conversation, and the warm buzz of alcohol slowly filling her veins like thick honey as she taps away at the bar. She sips her drink idly, never once stopping the rhythm of her nails as her foot taps along to the music still blasting.

“Hey,” a body thumps against the bar beside her, startling her from her distant thoughts, her peaceful reverie, and earning her mildly surprised gaze.

And instantly she’s fighting to suppress a scoff, rolling her eyes as she turns her gaze ahead of her again, to the wall filled with bottles before her, “What do you want, Valentine?”

“I dunno,” Casey shrugs, shifting closer to Aurora as she does, “You just looked kinda lonely,” her speech is slower than usual, like her brain’s moving behind it’s usual rate as the words leave her mouth, her posture more relaxed than Aurora’s ever seen it.

Aurora’s mouth tightens into a thin, sharp line at the casual insult to her typical demeanor, her default expression, “Well, I’m not,” she answers harshly. “I’m perfectly fine on my own,” she spits through gritted teeth, already irritated with whatever is occurring next to her.

“You sure? I make great company,” Casey’s tone slips into something particularly playful as she slides even closer along the bar, her hip nudging Aurora’s arm as her chin rests in her palm, watching Aurora without a drop of anything but tranquility.

“I’m sure,” Aurora barely manages through her clenched jaw, eyes nearly burning a hole in the wall before her as she focuses all her energy on one chip in the paint, one tiny flaw staring her in the face.

Casey slumps against the bar in faux defeat, with an exaggerated exhale. “Aw, please?” she pouts playfully, her eyes sparkling in the bar’s poor lighting as she flutters her eyelashes teasingly.

Aurora finally turns, meeting Casey’s wide, pleading eyes, “Why are you suddenly interested in being in my company?” Her tone is bland, monotone as she fights against her simultaneously growing curiosity and annoyance.

Casey’s shoulders rise in a shrug as she grabs a nearby barstool, pulling it closer and dropping onto it, “‘Cause you’re cute and I think you’re actually really warm and soft under all that ice,” Casey grins, poking Aurora in the ribs, her smile only growing as Aurora glares at her for the jab.

“I am not,” she counters furiously, meeting Casey’s easygoing grin with a scowl, her eyes narrowed as she silently challenges Casey to continue on this path.

And of course, she does, “Not what? Cute? ‘Cause I disagree, Ror,” she teases effortlessly, liquor oiling her tongue, allowing the words to fall without care as she drags a hand through her hair, that ridiculous smile still stuck in place.

But Aurora’s own expression isn’t budging either, her frown glued to her face, “I prefer my full name.”

“Too bad,” Casey shrugs again, “You’re Ror to me because it’s cute. Like you,” her eyes crinkle as her grin grows, a finger rising to tap Aurora on the nose playfully.

She jerks away from the touch, gripping the bar to keep herself on her stool as she flies backwards. “Casey, what do you want?” she questions with a suspicious gaze, eyes roving along the woman across from her, searching for an explanation for this odd behaviour.

Casey finally leans away, letting her weight fall to the bar, an elbow supporting her, “To talk,” she answers coolly, unbothered by the judgemental glimmer in Aurora’s eyes.

“About what?” the far less drunk of the two counters once more.

Casey shrugs, evidently a default in her alcohol-induced haze, “Whatever you want.”

“Okay, then,” Aurora nods, privately reveling in the way Casey perks up at her words. “Nothing. I want you to leave me alone,” Casey’s grin falls away as her shoulders sag in some form of hurt or despair.

Her smile’s been replaced by an upset frown as she watches Aurora carefully from beneath her lashes and through narrowed eyes. Only they suddenly widen, huge on her face with ecstasy overflowing from them, “This is such a good song!” She jumps to her feet, glancing around in excitement, eyes fixating on the mess of people dancing across the bar.

And, without another word, her fingers are wrapping around Aurora’s wrist, her palm warm on the skin beneath it as she begins pulling Aurora along to the dance floor, despite her many protests, “Hey! Valentine! Let me go!” She struggles against her, attempting to jerk her wrist from Casey’s grasp, but Casey holds firm.

She pulls Aurora through the crowd on the floor, until they’re surrounded by a shifting mass of bodies, Casey’s smile sparking as she turns to meet Aurora. She takes her other hand, tugging her closer and interlocking their fingers, swaying on her feet the whole while, tipsy and inexplicably happy.

But Aurora doesn’t move with her, standing frozen with a glare as Casey beams and bounces on her feet, thumbs brushing the back of Aurora’s hands to the beat of the song. Though Aurora doesn’t pull away, not wanting to shove through a crowd of wasted doctors in hopes that her spot at the bar is still available, which it likely didn’t survive long at this time of night.

Casey tugs her even closer, her hands falling from Aurora’s to rest on her hips, “Loosen up, Ror,” she hums, her mouth dropping close to Aurora’s ear, a low purr emanating from the back of her throat that sends a shiver through Aurora without remorse.

With a huff, Aurora crosses her arms over her chest, but she doesn’t pull away from Casey, doesn’t step out of her grasp, doesn’t jerk away from Casey’s hands on her. “I’m perfectly fine as I am,” she mutters under her breath.

“Sorry, what was that?” Casey’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling Aurora against her as she bows her head, her ear close to Aurora’s mouth now.

Aurora sighs, raising herself to her full height as she speaks into Casey’s ear, “I said that I am perfectly fine as I am right now. I’m not interested in dancing.”

Casey pulls back to meet her dark eyes, “Pretty please? I have nothing else to do,” she pouts once more, her head falling to Aurora’s shoulder as she holds her close, still gently swaying from side to side, shifting Aurora with her and watching her out of the corner of her eye.

Aurora can feel a blush creeping up her neck, heat rising in her cheeks as she exhales sharply. “Fine.” She nearly chokes on the word as she forces it from her throat, obliging Casey’s request by coiling her arms around her neck.

Casey squeezes her tight, nearly lifting her off her feet as she does, humming into Aurora’s neck. And Aurora’s blush only grows, a tiny smile lifting the corners of her lips as Casey buries her face in the crook of her neck. She coughs to regain her composure, features stiffening as Casey pulls back to meet her gaze with that absurd, overexcited grin, “Thank you,” she whispers, barely loud enough for Aurora to hear.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Aurora mutters, shaking her head exasperatedly as Casey beams at her. Her lips twist as she meets shining eyes, light glinting off vibrant irises, her pupils dilating slightly. “How do we, um…” Aurora bows her head, feeling her cheeks heating again, darkening with the blush, “Do this?” she finishes, fighting against a surge of embarrassment.

Casey mock gasps, “Aurora Emery,” her tone incredulous, “Do you not know how to dance?” she gapes teasingly at the woman that’s wrapped in her arms, albeit begrudgingly.

Aurora scowls up at her, lips twisted in anger, “No,” she fires coldly. “I can dance just fine,” she insists, head held high.

Casey laughs lightly, “It’s okay, Ror, just follow me,” she smiles sweetly, slowly chipping away at Aurora’s frown without her even realising it. Casey slowly starts moving her hips against Aurora’s, following the music pounding in their ears, slow and steady as the throbbing mass around them bobs along, moving to their own beat.

Aurora begins to follow, focusing on the movement against her and Casey’s hands on her hips, gently leading her. Her hands slip through Casey’s hair, palms landing on the back of her neck and thumbs absentmindedly brushing the skin beneath them, fingers knit together.

They carry on, moving together smoothly, sweat slowly beginning to coat their skin, glistening as they shift and sway and press against each other, isolated from the rest of the crowd. Casey’s head falls beside Aurora’s, their cheeks nearly touching as her breath shifts Aurora’s hair and tickles her ear, her hands softly caressing Aurora’s lower back.

A bubble slowly forms around them, immune to the chatter and buzz of Donahue’s, immune to the thrashing crowd around them as they jump and crash in a wave to the music, immune to the dizzying effect of the drinks that have filled their systems, once so strong, but now nothing compared to the overwhelming presence of one another. Aurora sucks in a deep breath at the climax of a song, glancing up carefully as she inhales again, just to find Casey already watching her carefully.

Their eyes collide, sparks flying between them in the awful, dim, yellow lighting, brighter than the few lights near the dance floor. Their bodies are pressed flush together in the heat of the bar, the temperature only rising between them. Aurora’s hands slide around to cup Casey’s cheeks, her lips parted as she meets her gaze, neither looking away as the song changes, everybody within the mass of people around them altering with it.

Everybody except for them, their eyes locked together, their gazes immovable as their movement slows. Aurora’s finger adjusts its position, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Casey’s ear delicately. As soon as her finger stills, Casey’s head dips down, her lips brushing against Aurora’s lightly, experimentally, as if to test the waters.

And Aurora meets her in the middle, colliding their lips and pulling Casey even closer with her hands on her face, Casey’s arms wrapping tight around her waist. They stand there, frozen, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle, stranded on their own island, even as they’re surrounded by dozens of people.

After a mystifying, hypnotic, captivating moment, they finally split apart for air, drawing in heaving breaths. Casey’s forehead falls against Aurora’s, a tiny gesture that sends Aurora’s heart into overdrive, “You wanna, um, go somewhere else?” she whispers against Aurora’s lips, her breath hot where it brushes her skin.

Aurora swallows, chest rising and shoulders shaking with each trembling breath as she works to steady her quivering voice. “My aunt’s home,” she eventually croaks.

“My roommates are nosey,” Casey whispers again, every exhale sending a shiver down Aurora’s spine, chilling regardless of the warmth of the body surrounding her.

“Then, uh, where…?” Aurora croaks again, her voice still raw, recovering from when it was stolen from her moments ago, ripped from her throat as Casey’s mouth found hers.

Casey’s lips twist in thought, her brows furrowing as she contemplates for what feels like an eternity, her fingertips distractedly tapping along Aurora’s body. Sharp, staccatoed beats fill the space around Aurora as her nails echo through Aurora’s nerves, a steady pattern to pass the time as they sway, slow and constant. “Bathroom?” Casey finally proposes.

Aurora visibly recoils from the suggestion, “Oh God, no, that’s disgusting,” her features scrunching in revolt, nose crunched as she shakes her head adamantly.

“Bathroom or nothing, Ror,” Casey hums, and it’s that low, throaty tone that first sent shockwaves pulsing through Aurora’s body, that first coerced her into dancing, that was the tap on the first domino that toppled every single one, each collapse leading them to this point, locked together in the middle of the dive bar.

Aurora sighs, her hands retreating from Casey’s face reluctantly. “Fine,” she frowns, lacing her fingers in Casey’s, immediately getting pulled through the crowd for the second time tonight, the hand in hers warm as she shoves through the crowd.

She leads Aurora through the back of the bar, into the small hallway that holds the bathrooms, into the women’s restroom, and to the farthest stall, hidden from the rest of the busy restroom. She pushes it open with her shoulder, turning around to pull Aurora close again and scanning for any prying eyes, her hands landing on Aurora’s waist when she doesn’t find any.

Aurora falls into her, connecting their lips as she fumbles with the door, nudging it closed and locking it with one hand behind her back. As soon as her hand retreats, flying up to cup the side of Casey’s face, she’s pushed against the wall, Casey never once separating their lips as Aurora quietly groans into her mouth.

Her hands slip into Casey’s hair, locks filling the gaps between her fingers as Casey pins her against the wall, hands skating along her sides, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to explore her stomach. Her thumbs graze Aurora’s abdomen, the muscles beneath them twitching as her fingers rise along her ribs.

Their tongues clash, swirling together, and Aurora can taste the alcohol in Casey’s breath as she explores her mouth, can feel the lack of inhibitions in her touch as her fingers skim along her body, can hear the eagerness to push forward as Casey’s vocal cords produce a soft, barely held back moan. Their hands adventure along their bodies - backs, hips, waists, torsos, necks, faces - anywhere they can reach.

Casey’s lips stray from Aurora’s, darting down to her neck to suck at her pulse point, teeth grazing Aurora’s skin. Her head falls back, allowing Casey even more room to nip and kiss her, to nearly bruise her skin and soothe anything that forces a hiss from Aurora’s throat with her tongue. It’s a steady, constant rhythm as her mouth and hands move along Aurora’s skin.

“Case! Are you in here?” Sienna’s voice echoes through the bathroom, a sudden divide forcing Aurora and Casey apart, only heavy breathing and wide, surprised eyes filling the space between them.

Casey clears her throat, working to steady her voice and her breathing, “Yeah, what’s up, Si?” she calls, eyes still trained on Aurora’s dark irises.

“We’re heading home soon, so hurry up!” Sienna shouts back from across the large, tiled bathroom, echoes pinging from every surface.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be right out,” Casey nods, even if Sienna can’t see it, her features turning downcast as seconds tick past. The door finally slams shut, and the pair still standing in the stall let out a collective sigh of relief, Aurora relaxing beneath Casey’s hands.

Until Casey pulls away, her body separating from Aurora’s and a chill filling the space she had just occupied, Aurora stiffening as the cold air makes contact with her skin. But before she leaves, Casey pecks Aurora on the cheek, “See you later, Ror,” she whispers against her cheek, the words sending goosebumps breaking along Aurora’s skin as her dark eyes stare into Casey’s, a million questions flitting within them. A million questions that neither know the answer to, and a million questions that they may never find a solution for.

Then Casey steps back with an uneasy, nearly trembling smile, unlocks the door, and yanks it open, striding out of the bathroom and leaving Aurora standing alone in a public restroom stall. Standing alone with flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and crumpled clothes, her shoulders shaking with each uneven breath as she works to stabilize herself.

She pushes off the wall, combing her fingers through her hair to sort it out, brushing her clothes to remove the wrinkles Casey’s hands knotted into them. Her hands fall to her sides, eyes dropping to the floor beneath her, staring blankly as confusion, frustration, and excitement whirl like a storm in her foggy, tipsy mind. Sharp, staccatoed beats fill the space around Aurora as her nails echo in the quiet of the stall, a steady pattern beating on her thigh to pass the time as she considers everything, each precious detail of her Saturday night.

Her Saturday night that hasn’t gone at all as she expected it to, not one bit.

#open heart #aurora emery #aurora x mc #choices fanfic #open heart fanfic #oh sn #this isn't very good but i had some fun with it anyway #hope it lives up to your request #and im getting started on a poppy au sometime soon #but it'll be long so it'll be a while sorry #late night ficlet

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ashkazora · 4 years ago

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2020 Fic Roundup

Stats:

Fics Posted (Total): 13

In chronological order: Cold Floors and Warm Hearts - a fluffy shance fic about the three times Shiro accidentally wakes up in Lance’s room. Exchange fic. 3,441 words.

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You - a small klance fillet based on the US tv show, The Blacklist. 639 words.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) - a Lance-centric gen fic exploring his relationship with the Blue Lion, and her control over him. 15,618 words.

Coffee Grinds and Morse Code - a post-s8, Shance fic written for the valentines shance exchange! 3,593 words.

Nectar and Ambrosia - my first Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for the square ‘denied food as punishment.’ Lance whump. 2,641 words.

there ain't no rest for the wicked - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for ‘big brother instincts,’ but this time with Plance and Lance whump. 3,508 words.

Of Claws and Steel - a science-fiction, super sentai cat armour AU entered around the Lions as futuristic mecha armour. Most underrated fic here. 14,344 words.

Hairline Fractures - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill, ‘bleeding through bandages.’ Lance whump (again). 5,059 words.

Leverage - last Bad Things Happen Bingo fill for the year, for the prompt ‘on a leash.’ Featuring Shance, and Lance and Shiro whump. 7,743 words.

Lay It Down To Save It - Leakira Klance AU written for Leakira week. Made in collaboration with @crapoftheworldblr! 18,102 words.

to the stars and back - The Dragon Prince Plance AU with Prince!Lance and Elf!Pidge. In collaboration with @rosieclark! 36,574 words.

Sweeter Than Honey - written for the Blue Moon Lance zine! Features BAMF!Lance as the honeypot on a mission. 4,098 words.

In The Closet - Klance fic for the winner of my fic giveaway. Fluffy, and definitely a bit saucy. 2,363 words.

Fics Posted (Gen): 5

the water was dark (and it went down forever) Nectar and Ambrosia Of Claws and Steel Hairline Fractures Sweeter Than Honey

Plance: 2

there ain't no rest for the wicked to the stars and back

Shance: 3

Cold Floors and Warm Hearts Coffee Grinds and Morse Code Leverage

Klance: 3

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You Lay It Down To Save It In The Closet

Collaborations: 2

Lay It Down To Save It to the stars and back

Ship/Character breakdown:

Ship breakdown:

This year, the biggest ship I wrote for was Shance (3 fics), with Plance (2) and Klance (2.5) coming in from behind. The k/l ficlet doesn’t count as a full fic.

Character breakdown:

Of the 13 fics, Lance is in the most with 13 (insert surprised pikachu face here), then it goes Shiro (12), Keith (10), Pidge (8), Hunk (7), Allura (6) and Matt Holt (2). Other characters appear only once, such as Coran, Haggar and Kolivan. Technically, the Blue Lion clocks in at 2 mentions.

Characters that had the main focus:

Lance had the sole POV for 7 of those fics, and shared POVs (in a collaboration) iin 2 additional fics. Shiro had the second most POVs at a total of 3, while Keith had 1 sole POV and 1 shared POV, and Pidge with one shared POV.

Specifics:

Best/worst title?

Best title: the water was dark (and it went down forever), but honestly so many other fics has titles I liked. This title was based off of the Tim Winton short story by the name name, The Water Was Dark And It Went Down Forever, where the main character swims and debatably drowns. So it’s fairly fitting.

Runners up titles include Sweeter Than Honey, to the stars and back, and Lay It Down To Save It.

Worst title: Hairline Fractures. It’s dumb and it makes no sense. It was the first thing that came to mind.

An honourable mention includes Leverage, which would be first if not for the fact that the title inspired the ending, so it’s not too bad.

Best/worst last line?

Best: From the water was dark (and it went down forever):

Blue’s grasp on him was like an endless expanse; an opulent and brilliant ocean. Her waters were dark, and it went down forever.

This was definitely my favourite, even though it’s pretty cringe. The way it was formatted in ao3 and the way it related to the title plus the reoccurring symbolism of water made it pretty neat!

Worst: From there ain't no rest for the wicked:

Pidge laughed, and turned her back from the darkness.

I’m sorry. This ending was so cringey. I hate it. There’s nothing else to say except I have no idea how to fix it. Oof.

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

tbh, I wrote a lot more, considering I had my final exams this year. Breaching 100k was crazy.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

Honestly? Klance. I’m not the biggest fan of the ship but writing it is very interesting, and I enjoyed it.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Of Claws and Steel hands down! It’s the first fic idea I ever had for VLD, and the one I really love the most. One day I’d love to write a continuation of it, but the reception of the fic wasn’t great so idk.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) even though it was started in 2019, was finished this year and is my most popular fic of all time! It’s got 4k+ hits and 450+ kudos. Crazy, since it was only supposed to be a dumb little warm up fic to get me back into writing in preparation for Of Claws and Steel. Alas, turns out people really liked it!

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Of Claws and Steel. It was the fic I worked the hardest on this year but got the least amount of attention :)

Story that could have been better?

Easily there ain't no rest for the wicked. There was so much plot and so many things I wanted to include but didn't. There’s a lot of things missing and bad plot flow. One day if I got more time, I’d love to write more on it.

Sexiest story?

In The Closet, hands down. It gets a bit steamy with a k/l makeout session. Originally it was going to be a lot saucier but I wasn’t too comfortable in my ability to write it well ahaha.

Saddest story?

None of my stories were sad, per se. Most of the sad ones were more scary/foreboding rather than actually being sad. I guess to the stars and back right now, because it’s dealing with Lance’s insecurities and Pidge’s desperation to find her brother (and a lot of other things, which will be revealed in the future!)

Most fun?

Sweeter Than Honey! It was fun to write and is my most fun fic. BAMF!Lance and his witty commentary is always a great laugh.

Story with single sweetest moment?

I can’t choose :,). It’s a three-way tie between Cold Floors and Warm Hearts’s last scene where Shiro realises Lance bought him the necklace, Lay It Down To Save It’s scene that I can’t say because it’s technically unpublished ;), and to the stars and back’s scene where Lance and Pidge talk about what they would like to be in life (ch3).

Hardest story to write?

Probably Of Claws and Steel, as I completely stagnated on the story for a long time. It took me 8 months to write it. Without Rue’s help, I probably would have taken so much longer. Runners up is Leverage, as it took me like a solid week to write 90% of it, and 3 more months to write the remaining 10%. For some reason, parts of that fic were such a pain to write.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

The easiest was definitely to the stars and back. I could relate to a lot of Lance’s actions and thoughts in the fic, so writing his POV was super easy and rather cathartic ngl. However the most fun was probably Sweeter Than Honey, as it was super self indulgent ahaha.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

Lay It Down To Save It changed my perception of Keith. I don’t particularly like Keith in canon, but I’ve warmed up to his fanon self and general character after writing from his POV.

Most overdue story?

Of Claws and Steel easily! It was the first VLD fic idea I had but took 8 months to write. Oops?

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

For the first time I incorporated HTML coding into my fics, which taught me a lot about coding and different ways to convey certain messages and detail things. These codings altered fonts and colours, which you can see in

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Write my tua/vld au fic, which will be my first solo multi chapter fic, and hopefully finish it by the end of next year. Also, sticking to a consistent writing schedule and try to write at least 100 words a day, plus finishing TSSAB. I’d also like to finish some more BTHB prompts!

That’s all, folks! Thank you all for sticking with my writing! Hopefully 2021 brings even more writing, fun times, and great fics. Happy New Years (in 24 hours), everyone!

#ashka writes #fic roundup #2020 fic roundup #MASSIVE shoutout to rue for giving me these questions #if you've read ocas ur officially my favourite person #ao3

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maxdemianfangirl · 4 years ago

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Here’s my @touhousecretsanta piece for @stevothehuman! (sorry if this doesn’t tag you, idk why it’s not letting me use the link function).

Here I used my ficlet/drabble skill I’m most known for to create a short little story about everyone’s favorite Mamizou helping out Kyouko and Mystia with their songs. Enjoy!

“Hey you two!”

Gensokyo was beautiful this time of year- lightly blanketed in snow, just cloudy enough to not strain the eyes, and overall full of cheer. It was a time for everyone to slow down and catch a rare break from all the chaos and incidents usually going on. But for those living more peaceful lives- say, Mystia and Kyouko- it was just more time to do their hobbies.

Which could be better.

“Oh, Mamizou! Didn’t expect to see you around here.”

Kyouko set down her microphone against her leg, Mystia letting her guitar dangle from her hand. Neither really saw people outside in their practice space, so seeing Mamizou was a surprise, but a welcome one. She had a certain reputation, a positive one.

Mamizou leaned up against one of the trees, asking “So, how’s everything going? Made any good songs recently?”

Mystia sighed slightly, chiming in “Could be better. We’ve been working a lot recently but are still having trouble with lyrics. I don’t even know what could go with the mood of the chords I selected but really don’t want to change them-”

“Maybe I could help then! Play me what you have, I’ll give you any ideas.”

Mystia hesitated slightly at first, only strapping her guitar back on after the nudges of Kyouko. She struck a few cords, not much of a full song without its lyrics. They’re what really bring a song to life, you can’t even tell music just by its background!

“We wanted a more somber mood to this one,” Kyouko commented. “Mystia got the inspiration from the Bamboo Forest in winter, with all its pretty snow at night! But I must admit, I don’t know what I want to write this about. That’s where we’re stuck here.”

Mamizou lifted her hat, crossing her arms and taking a moment to ponder. “Well, if you’re being inspired by nature, why not write about it?”

“Huh. That could work. Winter-themed, perhaps?”

“Oh, we live and work in very different places! Perhaps we could somehow compare the two?” Mystia added, smiling slightly.

“Sounds like a plan. How would the Myouren Temple and the food stop even compare, though? Or with the forest? I must admit, some days they feel entirely separate.”

Mamizou laughed, causing the two musicians to turn to face her.

“They can’t be that different. There’s icicles, there’s people you care about around you, there’s the sense of peace, and so much more. Everything looks the same in white.”

“Everything looks the same in white...hey, I got an idea! Be right back, this calls for the notebook!”

Kyouko bent over to drop her microphone and ran for the forest, not even saying goodbye to Mystia who called over a goodbye as the apprentice left. Mystia set down her own dangling guitar, dusting off her skirt.

“She always gets excited like that when an idea strikes. It’s nice to see!”

Mamizou nodded, commenting “Kyouko has a good heart, good mind too. Now, when she eventually comes back and you two start singing again, find me. I’d love to hear what you make!”

“Shall do. I don’t know what hit her, but I bet it’s good.”

Mamizou tipped her hat to Mystia who tipped back (if a bit confused at the meaning of said gesture), heading off back where she came from to go do whatever she ended up feeling like doing. It’s winter, do you really need a plan but to have fun?

#san does fanfic #touhou #secret santa

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g-a-y-b-a-c-o-n · 5 years ago

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Love your ficlets!! Could you do some kid Lambert and papa vesemir plis? I just love that idea of Lambert being turn to a kid again or something and having a heart to heart with vesemir. Thank u so much!

Thank you for your kind words!! It warms my heart to know people actually enjoy this!!! Also, I had no idea that they counted as ficletes so now I am pleasantly surprised!

Anyway, on to business. We got the goods.

So, idk if everyone really knows about Lambert’s backstory before Kaer Morhen, but I’ll just refresh y’all because it’s obviously gonna be the same, only difference is that he goes to a foster home after.

Lambert, as a young child, lived in an abusive home, the abuser being his father. He spent a lot of his childhood wishing him dead. At some point though, when Lambert is around 8 years old, social services ended up doing a full investigation on Lambert’s case and take him from his dad. He gets placed in foster care and gets sent from home to home. Sadly, some homes ended proving a lot like his original home.

Vesemir is a single father to two 15 year old boys at this point, the boys being Geralt and Eskel obviously, both adopted. Lambert’s around 12, or turning 12, when Vesemir takes him in.

At first he doesn’t trust Vesemir because, well, why should he? Vesemir’s an adult and all adults have ever done for him was lie and hurt him. He’s been labeled a trouble child throughout his time in foster care and has been tossed back into the system for that same excuse on multiple occasions. And some of the people that sent him back were people that he actually enjoyed being around. So ofcourse he’s not going to just trust another adult that is holding his hand out to him.

Thankfully, though, Vesemir understands. He gives Lambert time to adjust. He dealt with a similar situation with Geralt, being abandoned by the only person he loved and trusted. So Vesemir takes his time with Lambert. He notes little things like stuff he does and doesn’t like. It’s heartbreaking to notice how the moment he does something ‘bad’ and he thinks Vesemir’s mad about it, he shakes. It’s especially heartbreaking when the ‘bad’ thing he did was something as small as tipping over a glass of water.

Luckily, Lambert quickly warmed up to Eskel and Geralt, choosing to stick at their sides when they go out somewhere new, coming to them for help with things, even seeking out comfort from the older boys.

After a while, Vesemir notices how Lambert is warming up to him. Notices how he’ll stick to his side when he’s somewhere new. Notices how Lambert can get mouthy and gain a bit more of an attitude when talking to his family. Notices how Lambert will let him comfort him when he’s scared or anxious. He’ll notice that Lambert talks a lot more around him and how he’ll just be a lot more open to Vesemir in general. It’s the longest Lambert has stayed in a home while feeling safe and actually wanted.

Physical contact used to be a big no for Lambert at the beginning but now he’s initiating said contact. He laughs a lot more than he did in the beginning as well. Both of these accomplishments showing themselves brightly when he’d run into Vesemir’s room with his brothers to wake him up by jumping on his bed and laughing when he plops down on top of his new dad. Or when he clings to Vesemir’s leg when Vesemir’s cleaning, giggling excitedly when Vesemir walks around in big steps with the youngest pup attached to his leg.

Lambert is the happiest he’s been in years. That doesn’t stop the memories from showing themselves though. This doesn’t stop the nights where he thinks he’s back in another home, or worse, back with the man that ruined his life. But, thankfully the biggest difference is he’ll wake to find his new family next to him or not be worried about bothering anyone when he’d crawl into bed with them after one of said nightmares. There will be nights were he’ll have a nightmare and Eskel or Geralt will wake him up and take him to the kitchen and they’ll stay up and make comfort foods like grilled cheese sandwiches or cookies and just eat while talking about dumb things. On those nights Vesemir will come back from work to find them in the kitchen and just join them.

If you asked Lambert about it, he’d tell you something like they’re all a pain in the ass. Tell you that Geralt’s a drama magnet and Eskel’s way too soft for his own good. Tell you that Vesemir’s a Karen and that living with rabbits would be better than the group he’s ‘stuck’ with. But deep down, he’d want to tell you how they’re the greatest people he’s ever met and that he couldn’t ask for a better family. A better life.

Hope this was up to your standards!! I was honestly just rambling on and I think these guys deserve the happy little family they’ve got. Little Lambert is one of the softest and warmest things a could write about and I thank you for giving me the opportunity to do this. I love him and I would die for him. <:)

#the witcher #witcher #highschool au #high school au #the witcher au #witcher au #witcher lambert #lambert #witcher vesemir #vesemir #witcher geralt #geralt #witcher eskel #eskel #my boys!!!#AAAAAHHHHHH!!!

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psnowflake · 5 years ago

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Charades and a Drink Chapter 2 (A Post-Frozen 2 Ficlet)

If you missed chapter 1, here’s the link. Chapter 3 will be out soon. Idk where I’m really going with this, but I’m having fun, so yeah. Enjoy! Here’s the link for ffn.

Anna awoke with a start. It was early, morning light had just begun to filter in through the window curtains, and the soreness left in her eyes told her a similar story.

It had been a recurring theme in the past week; waking early, stirred awake by the same unsettling dream.

Though calling it unsettling would be unfair.

A beautiful pale face.

The silkiness of platinum blonde hair.

And those lips.

So luscious and pretty, practically enticing her for a taste.

A blush forced its way to her cheeks, and Anna shook away the indecent thoughts.

She needed a bath to clear her mind. Elsa would be returning from the enchanted forest later that evening, and it was in her best interest to compose herself before then.

In their most recent exchange of letters, Anna had requested for Elsa to return a day early to assist her in the final preparations for the upcoming annual ball, which was to be tomorrow; the day of the summer solstice. Truthfully, all of the preparations had been completed already, but she wanted Elsa’s approval, as it had been the other girl’s responsibility for the past six years. It felt wrong to not hear her take on it.

If she had to be honest, she would’ve liked Elsa’s take on everything. Her opinion ranked higher above any of her advisors, and it wasn’t even close.

But if she had to rely on Elsa for everything, she might as well have asked for her to return and assume the throne again. The girl was a natural when it came to these things.

It surprised her just how much she wished that would happen.

I belong out there.

Elsa’s words from that fateful night still rung out clearly in her mind.

She didn’t quite know why she had chosen to lie to Elsa about her memory that following morning. Maybe she was scared. Scare that Elsa would be mad at her. Push her away for being so detestful and sick to have the need to kiss her own sister when she herself was engaged.

But Elsa had kissed back.

And that had thrown her off.

So she had lied, regretfully. Because she had wanted time. Time to think. Time to understand.

Understand her situation.

And understand her own feelings.

Sadly, after a week of contemplating, all she had found was more confusion.

Did she love her sister?

Well, of course she did. But she had always loved Elsa. Why was it now that she had the desperate need to have...more?

Why did she find herself suddenly wanting to spend less time with Kristoff, her new fiance, and more time spent with her sister, someone who she had spent the past three years side by side with?

Elsa's smile flashed in her mind again.

God, I miss her.

Anna sighed, and rose from her bed, heading to the washroom for her bath.

In any case, she would find more answers when Elsa returned.

And hopefully they were ones that she wanted.

-----------------------------------

“The decorations look great.”

“You think so?” Anna smiled brightly, abashed.

“I really do. Everything looks like it's ready to go. Did you really need my help at all?” Elsa laughed.

Anna shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure that you were okay with it…”

Elsa had arrived around dinner time, which had gone off without a hitch. It seemed that all the tension from their so-called kiss was all but gone now, or at least on Elsa’s side, which Anna was appreciative of. They had an eventful meal together, sharing laughs and retelling their respective stories for the week, and were now going over the preparations for the ball tomorrow like they had agreed on.

Throughout all of it, Anna’s mind occasionally wandered to certain thoughts.

It was so natural; their exchanges. It made Anna realize just how pleasant it was being around Elsa. She always felt that way, but Anna was starting to truly see how important that time was to her.

Just how much she needed it.

Perhaps that realization was a starting point, to understanding how exactly she felt about Elsa.

“Anna?”

Anna snapped up in attention. “Ah, sorry, did you say something?”

“I was asking how things are between you and Kristoff? You haven’t really mentioned him tonight.”

“Oh.” Anna was surprised by the question. Truthfully, she hadn’t really thought about him too much lately. Not when her mind was occupied by...something else. “Things are great! He’s been helping me out with a lot of things.”

That was a lie. But Elsa would worry if she said that she was taking full responsibility for all of her work. She hadn’t really bothered requesting for his assistance, mostly because she didn’t want to rely on anyone.

Unless that person was Elsa.

“Well that’s good. Are you excited to dance with him? He is your choice for the honorary first dance, afterall.”

Shoot.

She had forgotten all about that.

Every year at the start of the summer solstice ball, it was tradition for the Queen to participate in an honorary first dance with a person of her choice to commemorate the day of the solstice. Usually, that person was the king, prince consort, or someone who was courting the queen. In the previous years, they had simply skipped out on the tradition, because Elsa was known to not participate in dancing, and she had no one courting her at the time.

But Anna was different. She was notorious for being a good dancer, and she had a fiancee now, so it made sense for her to participate in the tradition.

But the participant was still her choice right? No one said it had to be someone she was courting. No one said it had to be Kristoff.

Anna’s train of thinking quickly caught up to her.

Wait why am I so adamant on not picking Kristoff in the first place?

Anna realized she hadn’t responded to Elsa’s question yet.

“Of course I’m excited! You know how much I love dancing.” Anna suddenly turned her gaze to Elsa with a sly smile. “And I know how much you secretly love dancing too.”

Elsa looked away in embarrassment.

“You better not tell anyone.”

“Why? You’re really good at it. Is it cause you’re shy?” Anna’s cheekiness was palpable.

“Yes.”

“Fair enough, but one of these days you’re gonna dance in public, and you’re going to love it.”

Elsa smiled. “If you say so.”

They had spent the remaining of the night talking in her office. Over small things for the most part, but it had been relaxing nonetheless. The hours flew by and soon it was late.

“I think I’ll be going to bed now.” Elsa stood by the door looking back at her. “Try not to stay up too late. It’s a busy day tomorrow.”

Anna stood from her seat, and in a few strides made her way in front of Elsa. Without hesitation she gave her a big hug and wrapped her arms around the other girl’s waist.

Elsa tensed up, not expecting the display of affection.

“Thank you.” Anna whispered.

“For what?”

Anna tightened her hold around her. “For being here.”

Elsa chuckled softly. “Is that really something that needs thanks?”

Anna paused before answering, the girl’s voice practically right next to her ear.

“Yes.”

The earnesty in her response made Elsa still.

It was too similar.

The way Anna was when she had kissed her a week ago.

And the way she was now.

The yearning in her voice...had she heard it right?

But Anna said she didn’t remember.

Only she herself did.

So Elsa said the only thing that she could say at that moment.

“You’re welcome.”

Anna broke away and smiled softly.

“Goodnight, Elsa.”

Elsa forced a thin smile back. “Goodnight...”

Elsa stepped out of the enclosure and closed the door behind her.

She stood there. Silently.

Minutes passed and eventually, she moved from her spot and made her way towards her chambers.

The feeling of Anna’s lithe body against her own. It had merely been moments ago.

But she missed it already.

#elsanna #elsanna fanfiction #elsanna ficlet #frozen #frozen 2

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faejilly · 5 years ago

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tag game

Fic Writer Edition (tagged by @silver-latin-and-salt, tagging, idk, whoever is writing atm? @twistedsinews @leahazel @junemermaid, anyone who’d like, no one who doesn’t, etc.)

Fandoms: atm, primarily Shadowhunters. But also BioWare: Dragon Age and Mass Effect and maybe someday I’ll post some Jade Empire.

Also the occasional other game or TV show or Yuletide inspired one-shot. It’s a wide and ridiculous range of things, from a Georgette Heyer regency epilogue to Code: Realize and #7kpp to Firefly & even some Sleepy Hollow ficlets from back in s1 before we realized how terrible TPTB were going to be.

Number of fics: I have 158 works published on AO3.

This includes a couple of fanmixes that are linked on there to companion fics/series, two collaborative fics which are not just mine, even less so than most writing that is, and four WIPs: two of which I am still working on, one of which will absolutely 100% NEVER ever get more, and then that last one will probably not get more but who knows, maybe in ten years we’ll do a reunion and try again (it’s one of the collabs).

AS WELL AS: forty-seven different ficlet collections, sorted by fandom and pairing(s), because otherwise I would honestly have almost 1000 things and never be able to find a single damn one of them when I wanted to (and neither would anyone else). Like, ten of them are just for Shadowhunters because I split up the coda-fic by season and then also I put the porn in its own thing and Clizzy is kind of a post-canon AU so they’re on their own too and spin-offs of a particular fic setting get their own collection so they’re all together and etc. etc. etc.

Fic I spent a lot of time on: Do we count time actually writing? Or just the amount of time it hung out in my head before I finished it? Because I probably spent the most actual physical writing time on Lost For Words, which is a frothy cotton-candy experiment in long-fic for Mass Effect that I posted chapter by chapter as I wrote it and actually finished. (I have never successfully repeated the experience, tho I suppose a couple of my Shadowhunters fics will sort-of qualify in terms of length when they’re done, but they didn’t get posted semi-regularly and in progressive chapters in at all the same way.)

In terms of time between debut and completion, that would probably have to go to Cruel Intentions, which took over five years between initially going up on the Dragon Age Kink Meme and actually getting a conclusion.

i am for you and if broken hearts were whole have both been lingering WIPs for over two years at this point now, though, and a couple other DA2 fics were pretty close to that five year mark as well. 😅

Fic I didn’t spend a lot of time on: ashes of angels because I was coming up on my bingo deadline so I just pounded it out in a day. (It’s actually quite good tho! I think so, anyway! I am very proud of it! Read part one first, if you haven’t yet!)

also Impossible, (DA2, Bethany/Sebastian, confessional!porn) which mostly wrote itself in pretty short order, which was delightful. (Tho I also had a very astute beta for that one; don’t think he’s on tumblr anymore tho, or I’d yell at him in thanks again.) I told y’all I had a priest!kink problem. Not that you hadn’t all noticed on your own, anyways...

Longest fic: Finished? The aforementioned Lost for Words at just over 62k.

In limbo? Persephone Rising is literally three times longer than my next longest fic (and still not done!) but it is also a collab fic with three authors, so I suppose that sort of evens out?

Active WIP? i am for you at 59k. I’m not sure how much more is left of that one, tbqh... it will probably end up a bit longer than LfW, tho maybe not by much.

Shortest fic: I have no fucking clue, 47 ficlet collections, remember? In terms of a thing that I forgot to collect, apparently it is Consequences, which is my Brosca after the Landsmeet in DA:O.

Most hits/Most kudos/Most bookmarks: ALL THREE FOR i am for you! (Wonder how it’ll do when it’s no longer marked as a WIP?)

Total word count: On AO3: 1,137,609 !!!

(Sorry, you can see why I had to make that big tho, right?)

Fic I want to rewrite/expand: Except for the revisions to what is now Maleficar, I much prefer to leave fic as is, once it’s up there, so nothing on the re-write front. It was what it was when I did it, and it’s important to remember that, even when you move on to new stuff, imo.

But! I have potential/hopeful sequels in the WIP folder for and breathing is wishing, out of some dreaming tree, with an if in its soul, and several assorted ficlet collections & prompts I’ve sort of teased over the years.

Favourite fic of mine: At the moment, they have hung the sky with arrows because it’s a thing I’m not sure I ever really thought I was going to write, and then I did and I surprised myself a little, but it was fun and it ties together a lot of my thoughts on the Shadowhunters finale in a way I really enjoyed. (Also it has an actual plot! I don’t do that terribly often, I’m usually very introspective in my fic.)

Sneak peek of a WIP/Share an idea? I started a Shadowhunter!Magnus fic for a bingo square, but then scope creep! so I made a moodboard, but there is maybe a fic on the way... eventually. After my Bangs. 🤞🏻

The first time Magnus Bane met the High Warlock of Manhattan it was during his "travels", the two years after graduating from the Academy when most Nephilim wandered from Institute to Institute, seeing how things were done differently around the world, how they were still so often the same, learning about all the things you couldn't see in a classroom.

He wasn't actually in New York City in order to meet the High Warlock, of course, not as a 17-year-old foot soldier, that was well above his pay grade, as the mundanes put it. But when all the full-fledged Shadowhunters had work to do, he was assigned escort duty when the High Warlock showed up to do his yearly wards inspection.

Magnus met High Warlock Lightwood at the main entrance, and almost swallowed his own tongue at the sight of him, a broad shouldered, long-legged white man dressed in a conservative but very well-tailored suit, with heavy eyebrows, even heavier eyelashes, and a complete and utter lack of anything resembling an expression on his face.

A shiver went down Magnus' spine as he met the High Warlock's gaze, and he refused to think too much about why.

Magnus managed to introduce himself reasonably coherently, he thought, offering a hand to shake, but the High Warlock just raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought I'd talked them out of this nonsense last year."

"Uh." Magnus swallowed. The man was both terrifying and ludicrously attractive, and Magnus resigned himself to being a slightly stuttering idiot for the next four-to-six hours. "Not my call, I'm sorry to say. Sir."

The High Warlock rolled his eyes, and stepped forward. Magnus barely managed to dodge out of his way, and followed along behind him as he stalked towards the Angelic Core, where all the Institute Wards were anchored.

He never once acknowledged Magnus' presence as he worked, never asked for directions, or needed any sort of assistance. Magnus followed him anyway, and couldn't even bring himself to be upset about the waste of his time because damn, that view. He could see the shift of Lightwood's shoulders beneath the line of his coat, the tension in the muscles in his arms as each tiny motion correlated to whatever he was doing with his magic. There was so much power there, constrained and under his complete control.

The High Warlock never took so much as a wasted step in his clearly perfectly planned spiral of a route through the Institute's halls, circling out from the Core, stopping at each node, hitting all four corners of the building, before reaching the main doors again several hours later.

Once there he finally turned and looked at Magnus directly. He dipped his head in some slight acknowledgement, straightened his cuffs, and his face shifted into something that was merely neutral and professional rather than granite. "There were no concerns to note, Mr. Bane. The wards have been refreshed, and the contract terms have been met."

"Thank you," Magnus managed, though he had to cough to get his voice to cooperate.

The High Warlock's face softened, a hint of something that wasn't quite surprise in his eyes, but Magnus wasn't sure what to call it instead. "You're very welcome."

He nodded again, slightly more sincerely, perhaps, though there still wasn't enough of an expression on his face to properly qualify, in Magnus' opinion, and then he turned and left.

Magnus blinked at the doors as they shut behind him, and let out one long slow exhale. His shoulders relaxed, and it was only now that his posture sagged that he realized he'd been extra tense the entire time, as if waiting for an attack that had never come.

#on writing #fic memery #silver-latin-and-salt

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