#finish first i swear--see you in three more months for the Character Development Chapter

[gerbiloftriumph]

Lost and Found (ao3):

Grandpa’s story of the goblin caves started out familiarly enough, but as he spoke, the story started to twist and change. New friends, new conversations, and new ways to use old items transformed the tale, and the young king discovered new ways to be brave in the dark tunnels beneath Daventry.

(9/?)

The alarms hadn’t gone off. Graham’s tampering with the mushroom alarm system had made sure of that. But the tattered villagers and battered knights and rumpled king were not in the clear, not yet. No one had noticed their escape, but with eight prisoners clustered nervously together, the chances of getting out without being spotted at all were maybe a bit too slim.

“Wait,” he said, gesturing for the group to pause. “I’ll go ahead.” At the very least, he was permitted to be out, sort of. If he wasn’t doing anything too obvious. He’d double check their route.

They were not going to be recaptured and put into much worse danger because of his actions here. He couldn’t let that happen.

But. But there were so many goblins in the hall. Aside from the one at the top of the staircase glued to the lever, there were a bunch of others. Just hanging out, talking in their gravelly tones.

Graham leaned back against the corridor wall, studying the meandering goblins. This wasn’t going to be easy, not with all of his friends at his heels. He wondered vaguely if he could get the Daventrians down into the tunnels he’d found earlier, with the marionette horrors and the frogs…but it was such a tight squeeze in so many places down there, and so dark, even with Newton and the mushrooms...

“Whisper doesn’t do scary,” Whisper said, lambasting that idea soundly.

Graham looked through his pockets. He looked forlornly at his bow with its lone arrow, and he muttered to himself, “This weapon isn’t sufficient enough to take on the whole horde. There are just too many of them.”

The rest of his pockets was just more junk, though. He still had the shovel (hit someone?), the harp (distract someone?), Whisper’s portraits (flirt with someone?). Well. Hmm.

“So,” Acorn said. “What’s the plan?”

“Um. Something kinda dumb.”

They glanced uncomfortably at each other, not liking how this was starting out. “Well, it’s your call, string bean. Tell us.”

Graham took the portraits of Whisper he’d been carrying around for days, and then he jammed them onto the end of the little broom he’d also been carrying around for days (“Pfft, when’s the last time you did any of your chores,” Gwendolyn snorted. “I can’t believe you still have that”). In the dark, if you looked at it right, with the inkwork and gentle salamander light bouncing off it, from a distance, maybe it would look like the real deal. Maybe.

“Oooh, Whisper forgot to sign that one. Does anyone have a pen?”

“I need this posted up at the bottom of the staircase, and then I’m gonna yell for the goblins to go see what that is, and it should get them going down to look. And then I think I can get you guys to move up, quietly, while they’re distracted. I mean, it might be kinda quickly timed, as far as events go. Do you think we can do that?”

The group contemplated this. It looked like no one was particularly happy about the idea. And then it got a little worse.

“Ooooh, Acorn?” Chester leaned forward.

“Yes?”

“Can I have a piggyback ride for this?”

“Absolutely not! Do I look like a Kyle to you?”

“But I might not be fast enough otherwise,” he wheedled and whined.

“Oh, yes you will, if you wanna see that shop of yours again.”

“Is that a threat?”

“All I’m sayin’ is, if the current owner doesn’t pay the rent…”

“Ohhh, I think I see what’s going on here. This is a scheme of the lowest, most devious nature!” Chester squared up to the knight, which was fairly pointless as he couldn’t see over Acorn’s belly when standing that close. He jabbed a finger sharply in Acorn’s gut. It bounced off his armor. “You…schemer!”

“Acorn, be nice,” Graham said wearily, adjusting his Whisper decoy.

“It doesn’t have to be goblins that do it,” Acorn said breezily. “I hear there are fantastic retirement communities in Tanalore. I have a brochure at home.”

“Retirement? Oh-hoh, you seem very keen on me leaving my shop. Between the goblins and this retirement thing, I think you want my shop deed, don’t you!”

“I just wanna be crafty. Like you,” Acorn admitted, and for just a split second, Graham could hear the honesty in his voice. For a split second. And then Chester had to ruin it.  

“I’ve seen your crafts, and there’s no witch or wizard in them!” Chester said heatedly. “The lowest tier of crafting…folk!”

“Oh, you take that back! I’m an artist!”

“You, sir, are a hobbyist! You don’t even have a store.”

“Well, I would if you’d just retire already.”

“It comes back to that!” Chester hissed. He was reaching into a pocket, possibly to pull out some forgotten bird bomb or other trick in his sleeve.

“Stop!” Graham said, shoving the two of them apart—shoving Chester back, anyway. Acorn moved not an inch. “We can deal with this later, okay? Please!” The two stood glaring at each other, arms crossed, and Graham just knew the argument was going to flare up again shortly.

(“I see what you meant earlier about people not listening to you much even as a king,” Gwendolyn said, watching the mirror.

“Alas, tempers were a little too high, even as far underground as we all were,” Grandpa agreed. “Maybe some good clean escapades would help soothe the stress.”)

“Bramble Fey, reporting for duty,” Bramble said, stepping up to Graham with a little salute, knocking the tension out of the air as firmly as kneading dough. She glanced at Acorn with a soft smile, then: “Wente and I talked, and I think we can do it. Even with our little bun in the oven. We can do it. Whatever you think is right.”

Amaya shook her head, still looking reluctant, but with the Feys making the first step forward... “Well. My gut is still empty, so we’ll go with yours. If this is the best way to get going, then we’ll do it.”

“Fine. Chester can do it, too,” Chester agreed, but he was still grumbling a bit.

“No, you have to say it dramatically!” Whisper said, clapping Chester on the back. “Like this!” He flung his hand in the air and posed, with a loud, “Whisper can do it!”

“Whisper! Whispering voice!” Graham said desperately. No goblins came to check on them, at least. Lucky break. But then, everything he was doing seemed to be relying on luck today. “Don’t be careless, Whisper.”

“Whisper is…whispering.”

“Can you just help me set this up?” Graham asked. “We’ll have to be quick.”

“Oooh! Congrats on finally joining the sacred practice of leg day!” Whisper said. “Let’s go! Speed is the name of our game!”

(“Actually, we should name our game after some sort of quest, instead,” Gwendolyn said. “Sounds more epic that way.”

“Agreed.”)

With the two of them checking and testing angles, it took hardly a minute to get the decoy set up. It worked okay, in the dim light, though it wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny. He balanced it delicately beside the crack that led into the wall, and Whisper helped him make a bunch of different steps in the dirt he’d disturbed with his shovel earlier, making it look like lots of people had gone into the crack instead of just Graham earlier. Maybe it would get the goblins to go in there, giving him a little more time.

“Well. That’s as good as we can do it,” Graham said. “I think. Stars, I hope.”

“Whisper has nothing to add to the conversation.”

“…right, thanks. Come on, then.”

The group huddled together. Graham surveyed his team of friends. This was going to work. It had to. He just had to get them to the door. He felt the outline of the key in his pocket, one last time, just to be sure. Okay. Okay. Okay. Ohhhkaaaaayyyy.

(Gwendolyn and Grandpa watched the mirror king. The little reflection was frozen with uncertainty. Still standing there. Doing nothing. Not at all sure if this idea was actually a good one. Finally, Grandpa said, with a pushing motion as though to get his younger self moving: “I had stalled long enough. I had an idea, and I went and did it.” That got the little mirror king to act.)

“One…two…three!” Graham whirled, hands cupped around his mouth to yell, “Goblins! Goblins, look! Look down there! I think there’s someone down there! Hey! Is that the escaped knight? Hey!”

This wasn’t supposed to work. It was such a dumb idea, so risky and ridiculous—and yet, it absolutely did work. Goblins raced past Graham and the villagers hidden in the shadows behind him, intent on the strange Whisper decoy and the space beyond, and Graham wasted no time. In a hoarse, frantic whisper, he waved them forward. “All right. Go!” He heard paper scrunching as a goblin pounced on the decoy. “Amaya, over here! Forward! Go, go, go! Whisper! You know what to do!”

“What should Whisper do? …it? Oh! It! Running! Whisper can do it!”

But as Graham moved, his pockets—his dear, strained pockets, that had been carrying people around for days—split, as he’d feared they’d might, after all the weight they’d been working under. The jostling of his running was just the last straw. Happily, he had little enough in the pocket that split and lost its contents. Unhappily, it was the one important item he’d moved to its own special spot so he could grab it quickly and easily.

The key to the prison dropped, clattering on the ground, bouncing, teetering over the edge of the spiral staircase, seconds away from falling and landing on a goblin’s head as the crowd below them inspected the Whisper decoy with curious little grunts of uncertainty.

“Grab that key!” Graham yelped, starting to spin back, to get it. But that one yelp was just a little too loud. It echoed. Goblins turned to look, to see, and while he wasn’t exactly eye to eye, it was definitely an eye to helmet sort of moment.

“Pirouette!” Whisper yelled, delighted that he didn’t have to try and be quiet anymore. He whirled back, grabbed the key with a triumphant, “Got it!” and kept charging up the staircase.

Everyone else had nearly gotten to the doors, but Bramble was lagging a bit. Acorn scooped her up and kept going.

Graham slid after his group, boots barely gripping the dusty floor as he went skidding around the corner, grabbing a stalactite to spin himself around faster as the goblins came racing up behind them (the one still glued to the lever was yelling excitedly and pointing out which direction the Daventrians had gone). “Whisper! Over here!” he cried, thumping hard against the door, and the knight threw the key to his king, and Graham slammed it home in the lock. “On the count of three, pull the switches!” he yelped. “Ready? OnetwothreeNOW!”

The prison doors yawned open with a groan. “Run for it!” Graham waved his arms desperately at his friends, shoving them, as the first goblin rounded the corner, spear raised. “Acorn!” It was basically a squeak, but the big knight understood.

“On it!” He grabbed the doors and started yanking them shut. Wood creaked as he fought the levers, splintering under his grip, but he kept pulling, yelling “Get out—!” as he did so. Graham snatched the key out of the lock, shoved it in a (functioning) pocket, and scampered beneath Acorn’s arms just as the doors slammed shut behind him.

Goblins hit the closed doors in a little cascading wave, and the doors shook on their hinges, but they did not open again. “Oooh! Whooo! The bull is back, baby!” Acorn crowed, pumping the air. “Boom! That was awesome! Ahahaha!” He clapped his hands together, wood chips dancing off his arms.

The villagers and king lay in a sprawled little heap beyond the doors, except for Bramble, who sat primly on top of her husband, where Acorn had gently put her down. Her ankles were delicately crossed and her hands rested in her lap. “Oooh, that was fun,” she said. “But let’s not do it again.”

“Agreed,” Graham groaned from somewhere under Muriel’s shawl.

The villagers extricated themselves, shook the dust off, looked at each other, looked at the cave walls still surrounding them. “Well,” Muriel said, straightening her necklaces. “It’s not the freedom I was hoping for exactly, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

Chester looked slyly up at Acorn, and pointed at his foot. "Oh my. It seems I've worn a hole in my sock with all that running. If only someone had carried me. But, you know who I'm not gonna take it to for repairs?"

Acorn turned slowly, the joy in his shoulders drooping. "Huh?"

"That big guy who doesn't have a shop!"

"Wait a minute!"

Chester mused, tapping his toe, "I guess I'll just have to devise a crafty potion to fix it myself. Like a proper wizard ought. Hopefully one with lizard tongue. Mmm...."

"I've had enough of you! A shop doesn't make the artist! The art makes the artist!" 

Graham checked the others. Wente was limping, but trying not to show it, and Amaya had caught her arm on a rock and was bleeding, a bit, but it looked like everyone else was okay. Rattled, definitely. But mostly in one piece. Graham exhaled. That had been…stupidly lucky. Stars. If there was a god keeping track of his luck on an abacus somewhere above them, Graham thought he could hear each bead clacking over into the spent luck category.

Or, rather, that was the sound of goblins.

The goblins behind the prison door were scrambling and clawing at the wood. It kept thumping, rocking on its hinges. Graham figured they probably had more than one key, and the Daventrians had a limited amount of time to get out of here before they got that door open. “We should probably go,” he said. That, at least, was a statement that didn’t require any choices on his part.

“Which way…?”

Graham heard the uncertainty, and the ugly little empty pit in his stomach started gnawing at him again, and he just knew he had to make another choice that would hopefully work, wouldn’t hurt…. He turned away from the trembling door, and he looked, and he saw…

(“Two roads split off from the path. They both looked the same, and I had no idea which to pick.”)

And here he’d been sort of hoping he wouldn’t have to make any more decisions today. This one shouldn’t be hard. Right? But. But it was. Too hard. He stared down each one, trying desperately to remember which one he’d been led down when he’d first come this way. But he’d been tied and tired and confused and upset and there had been so many goblins and it had been dark and…

Minutes were moving faster than they were, and there wasn’t time.

Amaya sidled up to him, her words accompanied by the percussive beat as the goblins charged at the door behind them. “Hey, let’s speed this up, shall we?” She spoke low and soft, but with great urgency, and the rest of the villagers stepped closer anyway so it wasn’t quite as secret as she’d meant it to be. “Last idea went. Uh. Fine. We’re all here, anyway. Go on.”

“Uh.”

“Come on. Make a choice.”

“Um.”

“Despair behind us and two solutions in front of us. Pick one.”

“I…”

“Remember how I said I’d make a great advisor? Like, right now, I advise you to pick one.”

“Ah.”

“I’m all for using your noggin, but indecision is worse than a dumb decision. Come on, Graham,” Acorn said, picking up his startled king and pushing him to the left. “This one’s fine.”

“Whisper agrees! Left is right and right is wrong.”

“That’s ridiculous. Shouldn’t right be right?”

“That’s what they want you to think!”

“But I…wait…no….” Graham tried to turn back—he was supposed to make this choice, he was the king—but Acorn had him in his grip, marching him hastily down the road. Graham’s metal tipped boots clattered against stones as he tried to get his feet back under himself. His arms were pinned to his sides as he was pushed along, and that didn’t feel right, that feeling made his stomach twist unpleasantly, but he couldn’t…

They hurried down the tunnel, too nervous and out of breath from the escape to talk much, but after a few minutes, another fork in the road. Another split.

“Oh, no, we’re not doing this again,” Amaya groaned, as everyone looked to Graham. “Someone else should—”

“No, no. I. Hang on a sec. Let me think this one over,” Graham said, stepping away from Acorn so he couldn’t be grabbed again. He pushed the heavy crown back on his head. If he chose wrong…and these tunnels looked identical too. Like some scribe had simply copied them twice, next to each other. He could have sworn they hadn’t come down such twisting paths the first time he’d been pushed this way.

“Whisper could have taken both paths by now!”

“You’re thinking too hard. Let love guide you,” Bramble said, squeezing Graham’s hand.

“Oh, sweetycakes, you’re just so right,” Wente said, nuzzling her shoulder. “That’s the way, of course.”

“Love isn’t a cardinal direction,” Amaya said flatly.

“It should be,” Wente said, almost offended.

“The scenic route looks nice,” Acorn said.

“They look identical.”

“They both look like they head away from the goblins. That’s the way to go, let me tell ya.”

“Go with your heart.”

“Hurry up, Graham. Patience is not a virtue that blessed Whisper.”

“The answer is right in front of you!”

“Think it through, but quickly, my boy, please! My knees sure will appreciate it!”

“Charge again!”

“Left or right? Right or left?”

“If you can’t think quickly, guess assuredly!”

“This ain’t art, just pick one!”

“Ah, zards!” Graham wailed.

The room stopped chattering. “That’s not very kingly language,” Muriel said.

“But I do like a king of the people,” Chester grinned.

He could feel his eyes growing prickly with frustration, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, near enough to bleed. This was too much. This was like being back in his throne room, that stupid night of chaos, of accidental opposite day, of trumpets and acorns flying everywhere and his choices were mocked and he didn't have a minute to think, not a minute to breathe. And that horrible last idea with the decoy had barely worked--yeah, they were out, they had escaped, but that was by some grace of Daventrian gods, not because his plan had been any good, because stars, it had not been good, it had relied on luck, on slim chance, and even then it had barely worked. They'd nearly been captured again. He'd been captured after that throne room, the first time. The first nightmare. 

He had to make a choice here. Others were offering to make a choice for him, were forcing him into paths that he wasn't sure he wanted—and they meant well, stars hang it, they did, they did, but he couldn't let them. Couldn't accept their help. Because who would he be then? What kind of stupid, weak king? But what kind of stupid, weak king was he already? Anyway? He wasn't good at this. The last plan had been a mess. The throne room had been a mess. They were making choices without him, they didn't need him, shouldn't keep him around, this was dancing on an edge of a knife of his own making, his own fault, his own failures.

Not again, not again, not again. "I can't—I can't..." He stumbled backward, away, away, away. His hands were reaching for that crown. I need some air. I can't. I can't. He was going to drop it in the dirt. He was going to give up, give in, leave. Flee. Again, again. It would be best for everyone, really, surely. Acorn had picked the last one, he could pick this one, he could lead. Or Whisper could do it. But Graham. Graham was so tired. 

So tired.

And they were staring at him.

His split pocket kept splitting. There’d been more in there than just the key, after all. Two coins bounced out. The two he hadn’t spent at the merchant’s (whom he was now realizing he’d forgotten in the prison, oops). One coin with his face, that Wente had given him. One coin with the old queen’s, that he had found in the spider web, lost in the shadows of a forgotten underground maze.

In the stunned silence of the room, the clatter of gold on stone was too loud, and it snapped Graham out of his confusion. From his need to run. Muriel bent down and picked up the old coin. She rubbed it between her fingers. “Ohh,” she said, quietly. “Ohh, where did you find this old thing?”

“Somewhere,” Graham said, distantly, still taut with energy and drive and with nowhere to spend it.

“I haven’t seen her in an age. Edward’s grandmother. Oh, it’s been an age, an age. And there’s you, on this one.” She bent and picked up the new coin, too shiny with lack of use, too clean. Untested. “But the same crest on both, you know, see?”

There was a pause, as everyone stared at her now. Then, she continued: “King bo—Graham. Listen. Your ideas have worked so far, haven’t they? We’re out here now, aren’t we? All in one piece, too. And, more to that, right now, it doesn’t matter which road we take. They all go away from those cells. And that’s right and good. And we’ll talk about queens, and kings, when we’re off the path, away from this. There’s no wrong choice. Not now, and not later. Not for you. Not for her. Not for us. Choose a path, we’ll see it through, and we’ll make it work. All right?”

He nodded, wary and stiff, but…he nodded. The crown bobbled on his forehead.

“Then choose a road, sire.”

“Left is right, and right is wrong,” Graham said, after a deep breath. “We’ll go left.”

“But Whisper’s right, so, right?”

“Chester, I love you more than the sunset itself, but, shut up.”

“Sorry.”

[naktergalen]

Rivamika Fic Suggestions List 2

Hey there again! It’s been a while since my last rivamika post and I apologies for that. I caught the reading bug and have just been hitting book after book. I might be doing a book of the month suggestion starting in March. I’m still thinking about it but if that is something your interested in let me know. Or if you just want book suggestions just message or ask me. But for now, I’m back with my second Rivamika Fic Suggestions List.

First of all, I want to thank you for all the comments and messages I received from my first list! I think it has over 150 notes now which is crazy for me. I was going to be ecstatic if it got like 10 likes or something hahaha! I’ve enjoyed talking to some of you about fics and other snk stuff. Feel free to do the same after this post! I know I take awhile to respond but swear I get there eventually.

Same rules as last time. I’ve split this list up into four categories. I wanted to let people know the status of some of these fics in case they did not want to start an incomplete or in progress story. All of these fics can be found on AO3. I’m going to try to link them but we will see how tumblr acts today. If you have any fic suggestions for me, feel free to message me with them and I can add them on to the next list. If any author sees their story on here and wants me to take it off the list, please let me know I don’t wish to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Also, last thing, I highly recommend leaving comments and kudos to the authors. I know that they greatly appreciate it and it helps them with improving their writing through feedback. Okay shutting up now, ON WITH THE LIST!

DISCLAIMER: I know that not all of these stories are not for everyone, these are just my opinions and suggestions.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Completed:

- Thunder Clouds

Author: K_Lionheart

Rating: Mature

Sometimes I like to go to the very back of the Rivamika archive on AO3 and look for fics that have gotten buried over time. Low and behold what I have found lol! I enjoyed the emotional roller coaster when I was reading this fic, though sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out. Set after the titans are gone, humanity has to repopulate so arranged couples by the monarch are made to be wed. While this new order is being enforced, Mikasa and Levi are trying to work out their strained relationship. A slow burn with angst that will have you staying up till 3am dying to know what happens next. I know that there is a sequel to this fic called Nimbus and I’m slowly working my way through that one. Honestly, it will probably go on my next list.

- Red is the Only Colour

Author: mongoose_bite

Rating: Mature

A cute fic that was a quick but wild ride. A Little Red Riding Hood type of AU where Mikasa is a hunter of some sorts traveling through a town. I don’t want to say how Levi plays into all of this since it gets border line spoilers but just know that he is there. It is an opening ending fic for the author to come back if they plan on doing so but it can be interpreted in different ways. All in all, a fic worth of the quick read.

- Sing Me a Song

Author: LazyTrash

Rating: Mature

First I have to get this off my chest, I love the author’s name hahaha! I freakin wished I would have thought of that for mine! Anyway, this fic is wonderful but I will warn you that its a gut punch. If you like hurt and angst put together, then this is the story for you. I love these types of fics because I adore them so much but they hurt me in my soul. I don’t know what that says about me but whatever. I don’t want to delve into the story too much for spoilers but I would suggest rivamika fans to check this one out.

- Midnight Musings

Author: Raewyll

Rating: Teen

I just started to read Raewyll’s fics so I’m slowly working my way through all her works. This one caught my eye and I had to read it. This is a cute take on a chance meeting through texting the wrong number. I love the way Levi and Mikasa’s relationship blossoms into something more serious after causally texting back and forth. It’s one of those stories that I can only describe as being cute as shit! I’m definitely going to be checking out more of Raewyll’s fic in the future.

Ongoing:

- Beyond the Walls

Author: helena3190

Rating: Matue

If you love RIvamika angst, then look no further than this baby right here. This is currently my favorite ongoing fic. It was supposed to be a shorter story, but the author keeps adding more chapters so I’m not complaining hahaha! This fic is pretty much how I would *personally* picture canon Mikasa on how she would deal with realizing that she’s falling in love with someone. Its mostly told in the perspective of Mikasa as she is dealing with the after effects of war and trying to figure out what should she do with her life now that she is no longer a solider. Her feeling for Levi come with a lot of confusion as she’s discovering emotions that she has never felt before. She has a hard time pinpointing on what exactly describes her relationship with him. I’m anxiously waiting for the final chapter for this fic and dying to see how it will end for Mikasa and Levi.

- After the War

Author: loneackerman

Rating: Mature

I am loving this rivamika slow burn fic right here. Its similar to Beyond the Walls but I think the author adds their own taste of the 1920s into it. Set after the war is over (obviously), Mikasa and Levi have to figure out what they are going to do the rest of their lives. It has great tension, a perfectly paced gradual romance and just the right amount of humor to combat the emotional turmoil it puts you through. Again in my opinion, this is close to how I would realistically perceive Levi and Mikasa’s relationship evolving. I’m really enjoying this story and I’m looking forward to more updates to come!

- The Sound of Lightning

Author: LycheeGreenTea

Rating: Mature

A new fic that is just getting started but I can tell that what the author has in store is going to be interesting. Set several years after the end of the war, Levi and Mikasa are loving parents to a single child. Their peaceful life comes to an end when the family has a threat against them. There are not many long fics about Mikasa and Levi being parent so I was very happy when this one popped up on the AO3 feed. An exciting adventure awaits the Ackerman family now and I can’t wait to see where this fic goes in the future. There are three chapters as of now so head over there and check it out.

Incomplete:

- Home

Author: MissErikaCourt

Rating: Mature

One of the gems I found when diving back into the Rivamika archive. Ugh I HATE that this fic is incomplete!!! Its a good long fic but I’m greedy and I need more! I will give a warning first that this fic does contain heavy themes. Mikasa and Levi are in the underground to fight against a criminal ring. This story is a slow burn with action and emotional trauma. There is a wonderfully written OC that you easily get attached to its not even funny. Even though its not completed, I would highly recommend checking it out. I still have three more chapters to finish but I had to put it on this list. I know that I’m going to be pissed once I reach the last chapter written. If someone know MissErikaCourt, let her know that she needs to comeback to finish this masterpiece!

- Shiver

Author: bornsinner

Rating: Mature

Another one that I DISPISE its incomplete!!! Ugh such a great Office AU. It’s everything that I would want in an Office AU setting. Mikasa struggles between her committed long term relationship and her growing attraction (which starts to develop into some feelings) to her boss, Levi. Its hot, sexy and intriguing and it pisses me off that its not finished! The author writes each chapter as a one-shot but collectively together they tell the whole story. Highly recommend even though its so short. BORNSINNER where ever you are in the universe I hope you come back to finish this!!!

- Two Lines

Author: Crejhov

Rating: Mature

When this was getting updated it was my favorite on-going Rivamika fic. I would find myself checking to see if the author updated with a new chapter every week! The unplanned pregnancy trope is a classic one, but Crejhov does a fantastic job on keeping readers enthralled with soo many anticipated character meet up that are bound to cause hurdles for our expecting parents. This story is told from the perspectives of Mikasa and Levi in order for us to understand where their mindsets are as they plan for their expecting child and deal with their relationship. AHHHHH I want more of this!!! I was soo excited to see where this awkward journey was going to take Mikasa and Levi. CREJHOV COME BACK PLEASE I KNOW YOU HAVE WORK BUT PLEAAASEEEE! I NEEEEEEDDDD!!!

- Cabin Fever

Author: AmayaOkami

Rating: Mature

All I should have to say about this is that its written by AmayaOkami and that should explain it. Amaya is the one that gave us the beautiful incomplete rivamika fic Romance and Rivalry. I just adore her writing. Levi and Mikasa relationship evolves as they are standing guard over the arrested Kenny Ackerman. Secrets are discover about the Ackermans and it gets pretty steamy between our two favs. Great fluff and great sexual tension that leaves you wanting more chapters! Again AmayaOkami where ever you went I hope for some miracle that you come back and complete this one too!

One-Shot:

- Jade

Author: shulkie

Rating: Mature

This one-shot feels like I read a novel, it has such a great storyline. An arranged marriage between Mikasa and Levi leaves the relationship strained in the beginning. Their relationship evolves over time as Levi patiently brings down Mikasa’s wall. With smut added for all of your one-shot needs. Definitely worth the read in my opinion.

- What Remains

Author: Mirime

Rating: Mature

This one-shot gives us a glimpse into the secret relationship that Levi and Mikasa have been having while there are still scouts. This fic is sad but I would say it has a bittersweet ending. I think this was supposed to be part of a collection but I can’t find the rest of them. Still a great read by itself.

- Agape

Author: alienheartattack (Sanneke)

Rating: Mature

This fic is cute as shit! A College AU where Mikasa and Levi are childhood friends. Levi has to deal with Mikasa being at the same college as him while he is struggling with his changing feelings towards a grown up Mikasa. Worth the read as I said cute as shit, leaves you all warm and fuzzy lol!

- As Seen in Shadows

Author: MoraLeeWright

Rating: Explicit

FUCKING MORA! LEE! WRIGHT! UFFFFGGHHH Fuck I’m in love with her writing style. I really have nothing to say more that just go read it! Its hot and sexy and the sexual tension is off the fucking charts in this one. Its just MoraLeeWright smut thats all I can say. It’s great! JUST READ IT LMAO!

- Remedy

Author: NSummer

Rating: Mature

Another hot smut one-shot coming your way! Levi and Mikasa have had an ongoing affair and this just recounts their first time together. Its just some good ol’ Rivamika smut that I think that everyone in this community would enjoy.

- Nutty: Drunk in Love

Author: Hallow17

Rating: Mature

A fun smut to read about Mikasa getting “revenge” on her asshole boss, Levi. Things don’t go the way she plans as things get a little heated in the sexy way. A quick smut that I think is perfect for a little Rivamika crave.

- Spicy: Jalapeno

Author: Hallow17

Rating: Explicit

Another fun smut to read by Hallow17. Levi has been stressed out at work and Mikasa finds a way to help him get his mind off it (if you know what i mean). Again perfect for a Rivamika quick fix.

[refinedbuffoonery]

@improvidus​ thanks for the tag boo <3

1) How many works do you have on AO3? 14

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 106,078 

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? I’ve only finished + published MacGyver fics, but I have a whole folder of other unfinished stuff, primarily for Sarah J Maas’ three book series (Throne of Glass, ACOTAR, Crescent City). 

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (aka my claim to fame lol)

Quarantine Moments

Looking Through A Window 

I + Can’t + Lose + You

Fridge Meeting 

5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Out of my published ones...R+S+U (unbelievable that I didn’t get cancelled for ending it the way I did lmao). But in a million years when I finally finish it, Broken Like Me won’t exactly have a happy ending (it’ll be bittersweet at best...I know because I wrote the ending first). 

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? I+C+L+U has a good ending, so do all of the holiday fics I wrote last year. But I think the most satisfying happy ending will be the ending to Flawless (I already wrote this ending too). 

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? I don’t do crossovers! Honestly I don’t read them either. I think they’re off-putting and usually fairly OOC, but if the characters all exist in the same universe (or it’s just written really damn well) then a crossover is more palatable for me. 

8) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Hell fucking yeah I do. The emotionally charged, very plot-relevant, little-to-no cringey vocabulary kind. But not much for this fandom because the audience for it is very small. But for the fantasy romance book fandoms I (mostly) lurk in??? Definitely. 

9) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I always try to! Except sometimes y’all make predictions that are a little too accurate and I have to avoid responding to those comments so I don’t accidentally spoil something (yikes). 

10) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Nope (thank god). Which is a good thing, because I’m not actually as nice as y’all think I am, and I’d throw (virtual) hands. 

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of! On the flip side, I’ve definitely accidentally stolen lines/phrases from people. Every once in a while I’ll reread a fic and go “THAT’S WHERE I GOT THAT FROM!!!!! whoops.” 

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Does asking people to translate like 3 lines of dialogue for Flawless into French count lol? (real answer: no)

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Listen. I swear to you that this pirate AU exists. We have a whole chapter written. I have a good 50% or so of the plot outlined in my head and in our shared google doc. However none of us have worked on it in months so......

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? Not to out myself as the kid who was obsessed with Percy Jackson but....PERCABETH. They really invented love. Second place is Rowaelin (from the Throne of Glass series by Sarah J Maas), and third place is MacRiley (no shade to my Team Spy Siblings friends though....tbh if the show hadn’t set them up romantically I never would’ve even considered it). 

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? That aliens fic I’ve teased for a solid year. The goal was to see if I could write an episode of the show (which I totally think I could), but I just don’t have a plot for this one. Only the resolution and some comic relief. But the basic premise is that Mac, Riley, and maybe Bozer (aka our resident nerds) get sent to examine a UFO that crash-landed in the middle of fucking nowhere, which of course sends everyone down the rabbit hole of alien theories, but the UFO ends up being something.....significantly less cool. If any of you gen writers want in on this, hit me up and we can co-write it. 

16) What are your writing strengths? DIALOGUE. FORESHADOWING. also filling in the nuances of a plot once I have the bare bones in place. 

17) What are your writing weaknesses? Brainstorming said bare bones of a plot lmao. And describing settings is the bane of my existence. 

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Super dope as long as a) the reader can understand what’s happening via context clues or brief translation in the main language (presumably English) b) it’s used to develop the plot/character(s) in some way, i.e. a spy’s helpful skill or part of someone’s cultural background. 

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? MacGyver is the first (and only) fandom I’ve finished and published fics for. Everything else (many of which I started pre-Mac) isn’t developed enough to necessarily count. 

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? FLAWLESS. But I will say that I’m far more attached to LTAW than I ever could’ve expected going into it. So.....both? 

Tagging: goddammit idk I wasn’t paying attention to who already got tagged. so if you’re reading this and you write fic consider yourself tagged. <3

[mego42]

hi! a song inside the halls of the dark is an absolute masterpiece of plotting and pacing (and prob my fave fic I’ve read for the show so far), so for the ask a writer meme, I’d love to hear about your planning process(es). the idea of even plotting out something like that, let alone actually finishing it, just breaks my brain lol. do you do a lot of outlining? how much does the outcome end up looking like the ideas that sparked it?

adsfghgsj okay well first off, thank you! that is unspeakably flattering and i don’t know how to cope! my weird robot emotions are misfiring! but also, thank you for this question bc this is the kind of nerd shit i LIVE FOR and up until, idk, 5? 6? months ago my answer would’ve more or less been ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but sometime in between now and then i leveled up how much of a nerd i am.

okay so, the short answer to your (first) question is yes, i do a lot of outlining though the scale of outline varies based on the complexity of the story. in song’s case, how i outline actually evolved significantly over the course of writing it (see that level up) and if i were to outline it today, it would look very different from what i originally started with.

the short answer to your second question is in song’s case, the original idea was a v short, almost fluffy stuck in a hotel room for a night one shot i daydreamed up while listening to a halsey song (is there somewhere, if you were wondering). obvs what it turned into was uh, v different.

digging into how i outline is going to get long, excessively nerdy and borderline terrifying so i’m hiding the rest of this under the cut, read at your own risk.

I preface everything here with a couple of reminders:

1. i am a crazy person who straight up does not know how to have hobbies like a normal person

2. i am actively trying to push myself and grow as a writer including developing new skills and training myself to practice certain habits bc at some point I would like to push myself out of the nest and try my hand at original fiction one day with a vague goal of maybe seeing if i could get it published. idk if i’ll ever actually do that BUT in the meantime, i do stuff like the nightmare that follows to myself

initial outline / what happens next list

okay so the most basic of my outlines (and how i originally outlined song) are p much just lists of what happens next. i do them as bullet lists bc my brain finds them less intimidating and i just start with one and then ask myself what happens next. sometimes the bullets are v vague, sometimes they get so specific i end up writing what becomes dialogue, i try not to think too hard about it, i just keep asking what happens next.

it’s really specifically about what happens next, not asking myself what i want to happen in the story, bc next implies the bullet before informs the one after, so you end up with an overall picture of what you want with a base level of causality built in. it also gives you room to surprise yourself (i think literally every what happens next outline i’ve done has had me going oh, okaaaaaay at some point).

sometimes, this is all you need. for trade my heart for honey, i started and stopped here bc at the end of the day, the skeleton for that fic is super basic: beth and rio attempt to play pool without tripping over their horrendous sexual tension. they fail. the end.

for your monster looks like mine, i did a version of the what happens next list, but i brought in some of my tricks from the pace structuring method i’ve been honing for the multi-chapter i’m currently planning. instead of mapping tentpole beats by story pace, i mapped tentpole beats for what points i wanted beth and rio to be scoring against each other and then mapped out the lead-up and fallout to connect the two and also what they were doing to each other physically at the same time so i could see how it all played together so the conversation supported the smut and vice versa. it was a TOTALLY normal approach to writing pwp. not over the top at all. 

song’s original outline was basically a SUPER long what happens next list and if i could go back in time i would slap myself upside the head like bitch you have no idea what you’re getting into and you are WAY TOO COCKY ABOUT IT, but it’s okay i learned.

the spreadsheet method

somewhere around when i was in the middle of i want to say ch 9 of song, @pynkhues posted about her outlining process including a super awesome spreadsheet she uses (i cannot for the life of me find the original post, forgive me but know that it was hers) and i immediately jacked a version of it to use as my own and oh my god it changed my whole life. 

iirc hers was a bit more in depth but since i was sort of baby-stepping into it, i stripped it down into the following and did a sheet for each of the remaining chapters (well, ch 10 and ch 11, ch 11 ended up getting wildly out of control so i split it in two and mushed the epilogue i’d been planning onto the end of it as a closing breakout scene:

plot

character

it’s a lot of repetition, tbh BUT once i started using it, i found the repetition was incredibly clarifying and by making myself take the time to go through each column and go through the same stuff over and over, it honed in on the strongest, most relevant bits of what i was planning and helped me see patterns and connections i maybe hadn’t been thinking of on the onset.

when i outlined swear i used this method and added a layer to my chapter overviews where i track the lies and corresponding truths worked into the chapter narratives (bc that’s a key theme of the story), and color-coded the beats that corresponded to the main plot vs individual character arcs vs foreshadowing so i’d have an at a glance visual reference to make sure nothing was getting lost and all of the characters (even minor ones) had stuff happening to them and didn’t just feel like cardboard cutouts coming in and out of the story as i needed them

pace structuring

these are all fine and dandy but one thing they’re missing is pacing! for song’s pacing, i will be real with you, i v much went a lot with my gut. i’ve spent most of my life consuming and paying a lot of attention to stories. i’m fascinated with how they come together and literally cannot shut off the part of my brain that likes to pick them apart to examine the pieces to see how they all fit together. as such, it’s left me with a p instinctive grasp for how a story should feel when it’s working which is fantastic when it is, but really useless when it isn’t bc i struggle to identify where and why sometimes so i can fix it.

for the buffyverse, once i started to realize (with no small amount of horror) the scope of what i wanted to write, i realized p quick i needed some kind of tool kit to help me figure out the arc and pacing bc this was going to be a lot closer to trying to plot a whole novel from the ground up (which is great bc one of the things i want to practice is pacing and plotting out novels from the ground up, hahaha)

i’ve been working with a two main docs (and neither of them are spreadsheets, yet, bc one thing the spreadsheet method taught me it’s that while i find them very soothing, my brain works in bullet lists so i’m starting with bullets and then i’m gonna strain it through a spreadsheet):

1. Thoughts:

just a doc where I word vomit out anything I’m thinking, I don’t worry about keeping it organized, I just throw whatever I’m thinking in there so it’s memorialized and I can sort through it later.

2. Act Timelines / Scene Breakdowns:

basically, i have a basic three-act story structure with tentpole story beats broken out by general ballpark percentages of how far into the story/act they should occur for the pacing to feel right. i use that as the framework i run my plot and character beats through and do it in a couple of passes:

high level: i go through and break out what’s happening in the story for each tentpole beat (what the specific story and plot focus is)

by character: i go through and fill in (at least) one sub-bullet beneath each plot tentpole beat with what’s happening with each main character in their individual subplot, how they got there, what their general feelings and mindset is, if they’re having any revelations, etc (one thing i fucked up with song is not making sure i had stuff going on for all of the characters, the plot was super focused on beth and while i generally knew what rio was doing and why, ruby and annie more or less floated in and out of the story at whim and i hate that, so i’m trying to be better about it going forward)

by relationship: now i go in and fill in a layer of bullllets with how the plot and character beats are shaping relationships and how they’re progressing through each tentpole beat

at this point i’ve got a pretty fleshed out outline hitting on plot, character and relationship development at least in broad, general terms. i can look at it like a map and see how characters are growing and changing throughout the story and look for areas where the plot is pushing the characters vs the other way around and places where it seems weak or poorly connected/supported and i tinker with that for awhile until i feel like it’s in good shape.

next step is applying the what happens next approach to the scene by scene breakdowns. i’m trying an experiment with this one where instead of breaking the fic into chapters first, i’m breaking it into scenes and working out the beats of them so they incorporate all of my outlined stuff and then i’m gonna go back and see where the chapter breaks look like they fall.

I’m like, 75% of the way through my scene breakdown for this particular fic and once I’m done with that, I’m going to take everything and plug it into the spreadsheet I worked with for the last couple of chapters of song and highlight/color code like I did for swear to make sure my chapter breakdowns align with everything I’m trying to do and I’m tracking all of my themes and details and setting things up to pay them off later.

so, you know, an absolutely normal amount of planning for a hobby i do entirely for funsies in my largely nonexistent spare time. 

(sorry this was i am assuming WAAY MORE INFORMATION than you ever wanted or needed to know but once i started i couldn’t stop)

(and seriously, thank you, am truly verklempt that you love song like that 💖)

bts fic writing q’s IF YOU DARE hahaha

[artificialashley]

top 5 drag race fics that aren't mine (not me being arrogant, simply wanting to avoid looking like i'm fishing xo)

Sorry for the slow answer (see previous ask regarding my laptop charger) but ly and thanks for keeping me entertained omg

- Night & Day by Kite // this is in my golden list of fave fic from any fandom ever. which dates back to when i was 13. and only has 4 fics on it (or like 14 depending how you read it). if that doesnt describe my love for it then what does? as much as i love a bit of fluff....sometimes i can be a right slag for something a bit darker and this fic made me feel so many emotions i didnt even know i had??? and the storytelling is impeccable - the way kite chose to write (each chapter the other girls POV of the same events) was just so clever, really showing what each girl was wanting/feeling and making the miscommunication so much more frustrating (in turn, making the pay offs so much better when they came). i honestly might go reread it now because talking about it is giving me chills!

- How Far I’ll Go by Meggie and Mia-Ugly // I dont need to tell you how great this fic is because you already know but im going to anyway...the clear thought and effort and planning behind this fic is insane and it SHINES through in the writing. the way they write nina’s awkward and anxious character and obvious crush on monet is just so endearing but also so real at the same time? i dont think ive ever rooted for a character so much? it is perfection and should be framed

- I Don’t Want To Be Your Friend by lindseyluvsdrag // although i no longer see much appeal in pearlet now, they are for sure what brought me to this fandom and it makes me sad that some of my fave fics from that era are gone now. thankfully this one isnt!! reading it gives me chills because i can pinpoint it back to such a specific era of my life, mostly because i was so obsessed with this fic and its sequel that i read it everywhere: in the tent on my bronze Duke of Edinburgh, in business gcse when I’d finished my coursework faster than the rest of the class so had to spend three months “revising”, at a durham rowing regatta my parents dragged me to. i love this fic for the nostalgia it brings me but that doesnt takeaway from how good the plot, writing and character development is too! this is probably the reason i started writing drag race fic in the first place

- Elastic Heart by Mia-Ugly // and the reason i came back and write drag race fanfic now? here it is. this fic, and the whole branjie movement (ignoring your ask to stuff your move in here), came at a time in my life when i didnt know how much i needed it!! the last time i read or wrote fanfic was around when season 8 aired but there i was telling my dickhead of a boyfriend i was sick and spending my entire easter writing and reading beautiful fics like this one to keep me sane. i started reading at a chance and was hooked right away, the angst was real and it was so excited to read alongside the season airing (and watching mia basically predict the branjie lip sync was just golden). the writing is of the highest quality and i find myself coming back to it constantly.

-  The Mystery of the Journal by Zyan, Conflicted Looks Good on You by Mina and Arch back, heart attack by Atresia - I couldn’t not have some crygi on this list after the phase i went through last year but couldn’t chose a fave so here are three...mystery of the journal is just beautiful? i cant really describe the feeling it gave me but it was kinda like i was watching a film? those 12k words really told a story and i was so there for it. Conflicted looks good on you is here for its sheer comedy and turn of phrase? honestly iconic and i cant wait to reread it after exams because the summer feeling it manages to capture is just epic. as much as i love crystal isnt counting i decided to include this fic by atresia because its smut and i feel like i never really tell people their smut is good bc i feel weird about it but its 2 am and ive ate 3 drumstick lollies, 5 refreshers and 3 of those other lollies (idk their names but sugar) so yeah this smut is good!!!

honourable mentions to tree house kisses by veronica and scorpio which i swear i’ll finish someday, everything ive read by grapefruit and mac and strawberry daiquiri by miss bianca (which omg im gonna get to drink on sunday)

sorry for that rollercoaster of fic recs xoxo

ask me my top 5 anything!

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Two

Tony Stark x Reader Warnings: Dark!Tony, mostly just mild swearing and stalker behavior here.

A/N:- Also re-editing this chapter from original female character to reader. 

Word count: 2000 approx.

Letting yourself into your room, you locked the door behind you before heading towards the bedroom.  Sitting on the bed, your accountant's brain began to work through your survival plan for the next seven days.  You knew a week wasn't a long time, but since credit cards could be tracked, you knew that cash was the only safe way to stay under the radar and you were now woefully low on that.  You also figured your sister might be the first port of call for tracking you down, so that left your best friend.

Calling Sabrina, you gave her a very brief account of your predicament and that if she was willing to help, she really only had until about four o'clock to get what was needed from your apartment.  Being better to you than your own sister, you told her where to find your getaway bag and also asked for some basic workout gear, figuring you didn't need anything fancy to outrun an Avenger.  Then you told her where to find you and the name you were using before hanging up to wait for her arrival.

One hour later, a text message told you she was outside your room, and upon opening the door you checked to make sure no one else was there before you pulled her inside and locked the door again.

Dropping your bags, she pulled you in for a warm hug before stepping back to give you the once over.  "Angel, what exactly is going on and why do you look like crap?" she asked, taking your hand and leading you to the nearest couch.

Sighing heavily as you sat down, you stared at your hands before speaking.  "Do you remember the reservation I had Monday night for La Scala?"

"Is that the Italian place you've been going on about for the last three months?"

"Yes.  Well it turns out that when they were switching over reservation books, they lost my booking and the best they could offer me was a seat at the bar until a table became available.  Obviously I was fine with that, until I drew the attention of Tony Stark and had to turn down his offer to join him."

"Wait, are you telling me you said no to THE Tony Stark?  The same Tony Stark who probably doesn't even know the meaning of that word."

"Exactly, and whether or not he knows the meaning of it, he definitely doesn't like hearing it.  Apparently he's had Happy Hogan trying to find me since then, which was made kinda redundant when my boss sent me to deliver reports to one of his meetings this morning."

"Well damn, Y/F/N, that must have been some shock.  What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No, it's fine.  I mean you have a right to know, since I may or may not have put you in harm's way."

"You what now?"

"Look, I think it's safe to say that Tony Stark is not the hero he appears to be and I think I may have pissed him off a lot more than I should have."

"Y/F/N, what did you do?"

"I barely gave him any information when he questioned me before the meeting, and when he had me threatened and brought to his office afterwards, I said I'd report him to Human Resources."

"Wow, you never do things by half, do you?  But that doesn't explain why you're hiding out here or why you think I might be in danger?"

Refusing to look at your best friend, you took some deep breaths before continuing.  "Well because when a meeting with Steve Rogers interrupted us, he told me to go back to work and then wait for Happy to drive me to his place afterwards.  Obviously I didn't do that and I don't know if he's willing to let this go.  If not, I don't know who he's willing to hurt to get to me."

"Fuck Y/F/N, all this because his ego couldn't handle the word no."

"I know right.  I'm so sorry for putting you in the middle of all this, but I didn't know who else to trust.  I love my sister, but you and I both know she'd sell me out in a heartbeat."

Wrapping her arms around you once more, Sabrina held you tight as she thought through the situation.  "You know Y/F/N, this situation might not be as dire as you think.  Considering who my husband is, do we really believe that Tony Stark is willing to go up against New York's mob boss just to get to you?"

"I don't know, Sab, and that's the worst part.  I don't know what he's capable of.  I mean Happy threatened to have me arrested for stealing money from the company if I didn't go to his office.  You really think Sebastian can protect you?"

"Oh Angel, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Seb won't let anything bad happen to me.  But what about you?  Should we see what he can do for you?"

"No Sabrina, you've done more than enough.  Hopefully I'm just overreacting and this will all blow over.  If not, then I have my getaway bag and more than enough cash to start over.  Your husband would be proud of me." you finish with a chuckle, hoping to ease the tension lines you could see appearing on her forehead.

The next hour was spent with a bottle of wine and some girly chit-chat until Sebastian texted Sabrina to let her know he was in the lobby.  Giving your best friend a smile and a hug, you said goodbye and decided to head for a relaxing bath, not knowing the shitstorm that was about to kick off at Stark Industries.

*************

No pun intended, but upon arriving at your desk ten minutes before clocking off time, Happy was not a happy camper.  After finding your desk empty, he made enquiries from Melinda who informed him that you weren't feeling well and had gone home early.  Deciding that it was best not to upset Tony unless absolutely necessary, he brought up your employee file and got a hold of your address.  Getting in the car and driving to your place, he was pissed to discover that it was locked tight and no one had seen you all day.  Swallowing his anger, he headed off to Tony's to relay this development and see if he really was serious about pursuing you.

Upon walking in, Tony told him to take you to the living room and he'd be right out.  However, on entering said room and seeing only Happy, Tony was full of questions.  "Happy, would you care to tell me what is wrong with this picture?"

"I know Tony, I can't explain it.  From what I've been told, shortly after you sent her back to work, she complained about not feeling well and no one has seen her since."

"No one?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Nobody just disappears without a trace.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. I want a trace put on all credit cards in the name of Stark Industries employee 2474789, back timed to two months ago.  I want to know where she's been and where she might go."

"Tony, don't you think all this might be a bit excessive over someone who clearly wants nothing to do with you?"

"You know I was kinda resigned to not knowing who she was, but my god, when she walked into that meeting room and I discovered that I've technically been supporting her for three years.  I can't explain it, Happy but she's awoken something in me.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. what's the status of recent activity?"

"Nothing Boss.  The last credit card purchase was Tuesday at the cafe in the lobby of Stark Industries.  Mint flavored hot chocolate with whipped cream, around lunch time."

"Damn, how does one disappear and go over twenty-four hours without financial support?"

"Um Tony, I don't want to state the obvious, but do you think she might be using cash?"

"Cash?  Seriously Happy, people still do that?"

"It would explain how she's getting by, while staying off F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s radar."

"Ingenious.  My little girl's a clever one, it seems.  Thanks Happy, but I think I can handle her from here.  You can show yourself out?  F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull up any footage you can for Y/F/N's apartment for the last forty-eight hours." Tony ordered, as he headed towards his lab.

Sitting at his workstation, Tony combed through all available footage from your apartment, starting from half an hour before he knew you left work.  Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, he was prepared to try some other approach when he saw a young woman exit your building carrying what appeared to be two black duffel bags.  Watching her deposit them into a black SUV, he waited to see if her face became visible.

"BINGO!  F.R.I.D.A.Y. freeze frame 17a and run facial recognition on that individual."

"Facial recognition scan identifies the young lady as Sabrina Stan.  Wife of Sebastian Stan.  Current head of the New York mob."

"New York mob connections, huh?  Well that could explain her ability to fly under the radar.  Still, let's try this without starting a war.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. I think it's time I stopped fooling around, run Miss Y/L/N through facial recognition and let me know the second you find her."

"Will do boss."  Fifteen minutes later, he heard a beep and looked up from his desk to see footage of you walking through the lobby of the famous Waldorf Astoria towards the elevators.

"Well I'll be damned, either my girl has expensive taste or her mob connections go deeper than a passing acquaintance.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a complete, deep data scan.  Cross reference everything to do with Y/F/N Y/L/N, the Waldorf Astoria and the New York Mob.  I need to know if I have to mobilize the Avengers."

Two hours later, having torn himself away from his pet project to play Iron-Man, Tony barely gave himself enough time to rehouse his nanoparticles armor before harassing his A.I.  “F.R.I.D.A.Y. do you have the results of that search?"

"Indeed Boss.  It appears the connection is nothing more than an acquaintance.  Mrs. Stan and Miss Y/L/N were both part of the same book club and writing group a year and a half ago.  It seems a friendship developed out of it."

Though it bugged him, all the bother you were putting him to, this new information coupled with you appearing to be somewhat of an introvert, gave him renewed confidence in his plan.  Having so far found you utterly fascinating, he knew that once he had you, he would make sure you never said no to him again.

[sophielovesbarnes]

All or nothing, chapter two.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Winchester!reader

Warnings: Fluff, pregnancy and cursing.

Author note: Alright, here we are, hot out of the oven! Sorry if it took long, I got stuck on a scene but I finally broke the writer’s block and was able to finish this chapter, we will get to see a bit more of SPN on this chapter.

I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what do you think, dm me if you want to be tagged and remember requests are open.

Chapter one

Masterlist

Chapter two

“Come on ladies! They are not called suicide running drills for nothing!” Your coach screams, you are beyond exhausted, your legs feel like they will give in, in any second now, you are covered in sweat from head to toe and your lungs feel like they are on fire. With the National competition getting closer every day your coach gets more demanding and the training sessions become more intense.

“So.” You manage to get out. “I don’t know if calling him is too straight forward.”

“Well.” Ingrid answers with her chest heaving. “It’s not like you have cared about that before.”

“Winchester! Fritz! If you are able to speak then you are not doing it right!” 

Ingrid smiles at you and then you both get back to running, an hour; that feels like an eternity later, you are under the shower letting the water wash away your exhaustion, you still have two classes left and you need to mentally prepare yourself for them. 

When you are changing into a pink dress Ingrid returns to the topic.

“So what are you going to do?” She asks while brushing her hair. “Are you gonna call the hot FBI agent?”

“I think I will.” You tie your hair up and close your locker. “There’s something really special about him, I just can’t put my finger in what.” 

“Aww little Y/N has a crush.”

“Shut it Ingrid, at least I’m doing something about mine.” You say teasingly.

“Hey I’m your base, you don’t wanna bother me.” You both look at each other with serious looks in your face and then burst into laughter. “No but seriously, tell me how it goes.” 

“Will do, bye babes.” You kiss her cheek and then leave the locker room. 

During class you are barely able to pay attention, when your psychodynamic teacher is talking about the five stages of psychosexual development and the fixations in the oral stage your mind is traveling far away, focused on soft brunet locks and shy smiles.

After school you go back to your apartment, you order chinese for dinner and when the food comes and you are so distracted you are almost sure you gave the delivery guy a 50 dollar bill and told him to keep the change, you eat absentmindedly and then head to your bathroom toying with your phone, after taking a bath you are on your bed, dressed with clean pajamas and your hair wrapped up with a towel, then you finally gather enough courage to make the call. 

The phone rings three times before he answers.

“Hello?” Your heart flutters at the sound of his voice. 

“Doctor Reid?”

“Who is this?” He asks, you can hear the nervousness in his voice.

“It’s Y/N Winchester.” You answer calmly .”You gave me your card at the FBI lecture at Louisville.” 

“Right, how- how may I help you?” He replies.

“I have a lot of questions, and you told me to call if I had them.” You take a deep breath and then say with a wide smile on your face. “But I thought it would be unfair to just ask without giving something in return, so what do you say about me buying you coffee tomorrow? If you’re still in town.” 

Silence.

You mentally slap yourself for being too straightforward, what made you think that he wants to go out with you? He most likely has a girlfriend and here you are throwing yourself to him? God, you are so stupid.

“I-I yeah, that would be…” You listen to him taking a deep breath and then he continues. “That would be nice.”

“Great! We should go to Quills, they make this mean peach- lavender lattes.”

“Sounds good.”

“Does four o’clock work for you?”

“Yeah, that’s okay.” 

“Hey pretty boy, who are you talking to?” Says a voice on the back, then the call ends.

You are smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, you have a date; well, meeting with doctor Reid, and you can barely hold your emotion. What are you gonna wear? What are you gonna say? Maybe this was a rash idea. 

The ring of your phone snaps your mind out of it, when you pick up you see your brother’s face and on the back you hear the sound of vomiting.

“I’m guessing Jo hasn’t passed the throwing up all the time fase.”

“At this point I am pretty sure she kind of hates me.” Says your Adam.

“I don’t kind of hate you Adam, I hate you, hate you.” You hear Jo say, then the sound of vomiting returns.

Jo’s pregnancy had caught everyone off guard, she and Adam were always fighting or calling each other names, but then at the New Year’s Eve party Ellen threw on the Roadhouse they both had too much to drink and the next thing you knew was that you were going to have another nephew or niece in nine months, there was a lot of crying and at some point Ellen threatened to cut your brother’s balls off, now she was just happy with the idea of having a grandchild. 

After the initial shock you were happy as well, this wasn’t your first nephew/niece though, Sam and Jessica had two beautiful daughters you adored, Dean had Ben; who was only a couple years younger than you, which was weird; and with Castiel, Dean had applied to be a foster parent, they now had a little boy; Leo, and were hoping to get another child.

You had such a beautiful family and were so grateful for it. 

“How are you baby sis?” Adam asks, ignoring Jo’s comment.

“I’m good, very tired, our coach is killing us, and I have a duckton of homework, but in general things are going great, what about you, how are things going on Kansas?”

“Things are good, the workshop is getting a lot of cars, Sam, Jess and the girls visit us every now and then, and Dean and Cas are all about Leo.”

“That’s gonna be you in a couple months you know? Have you thought of any names?”

“Jo likes William or Genevieve, I like Magnolia or Jebediah, Jo doesn’t like them so we have reached an impasse.” You see Jo exiting the bathroom and standing next to your brother.

“Those are old people’s names, tell him Y/N.” Jo says. “Tell him they are horrible names and we are not naming my child like an old person.”

“Our child” He corrects, “And they are good names Joanna.”

“I hate to not be on your side bro, but Jo is right, they are horrible.” You say.

“Thank you Y/N at least one Winchester is using her brain.” Adam rolls his eyes and you laugh.

“They are good names!” Adam insists.

“No they are not.”  You and Jo say at the same time, she was your best friend and somehow you were always in synchrony. 

“Now if you can’t reach an agreement Y/N is always a good option, it has character, it’s pretty, and let's be honest, the world could use another Y/N Winchester.”

“We don’t need another traitor.” Adam answers with false hurt. 

“Ugh, stop being such a drama queen Adam, you know what? Your baby wants an Oreo McFlurry.” 

“Five minutes ago you were throwing up and now you want a McFlurry?” 

“Yes, so better get on the road because they are going to close, don't do this for me Adam, do it for your baby.”

“So now it’s my baby?” They both start bickering and you swear they already act like a married couple, eventually Jo wins the discussion, because being honest there is no better argument than “I am carrying your baby” so Adam says his goodbyes and leaves grudgingly.  You and Jo stay talking for hours, it’s almost 3 am when you hang up, and you fall asleep right after.

When you wake up you feel well rested and you feel like you slept for so long, the sun comes bright through the window and your whole body feels relaxed, which is weird because you went to sleep really late last night, which gets you thinking that you never heard your alarm.

Wait.

You take your phone and press the side button, but the screen doesn’t turn on. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” You didn’t charge your phone, so the battery is dead which means that you are probably very late, you look up at the watch that’s on the wall, which indicates that it is already 12:15 in the morning, you are definitely very late. 

You jump out of the bed and run to the bathroom, no time for showering, you brush your teeth and get dressed with a pair of jeans, plain white t-shirt and sneakers, you tie your hair on a high ponytail, take your bag and run to the kitchen, you grab a banana and a bottle of water and run out of your house. 

You race on the road and make it to school on record time, at this time of the day it is barely impossible to find a parking space that is empty, when you manage to park it’s almost one, you mentally curse, get out of the car and run to the classroom, this promises to be a hell of a day. 

*****

Spencer has never liked this kind of conferences, they bring him back to his college years, which are not something he likes to think about, he didn’t have the standar university experience, most of the time he was made fun of, being the target of stupid pranks or being just ignored by his classmates, so yeah, college wasn’t something he remembered fondly.

He was on edge until yesterday, when he saw you on the lecture; he had already seen you on the football field being thrown into the air and then landing perfectly with a magazine worthy smile, of course he thought you were pretty, because you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever landed eyes on, but you were also most likely the type of girl that only cared about vain things and would have never noticed him if you had been one of his classmates; he was proved wrong during the lecture.

You weren’t only pretty, you were also smart, probably the smartest girl in that classroom, you were informed and you clearly cared about the topic, and when the lecture ended you went to him, when all the girls went with Morgan or Rossi, you decided to go with him; he was in such a rush he even had the bravery to give you his card.

And then the impossible happened, you called him, and not only that, you asked him out and he hasn’t felt this nervous in ages.

“Reid, Reid.” Morgan’s voice brings him back to the room, he and Rossi are looking at him with worry. “Everything alright pretty boy? You have been acting weirder than usual since yesterday.” 

“I am fine.” He answers almost automatically.

“Are you sure?” Rossi asks with an eyebrow raised. “We are worried about you kid.”

“Yeah.” He says. “Colleges just bring me to the edge.”

“Well, don’t worry about it pretty boy, we are just going to be here three more days and we are back to Quantico.”

“I know.” 

*****

The whole day you feel like you are running, you are late for class which gets you a reprimand from your teacher, which gets you late to your next class, which ends up getting you late to cheerleading practice. Your coach is so mad she has you running suicides and practicing toe touches until your legs feel like jello. 

“Point your toes Winchester! And smile, you have to sell it!”  She screams at you, everytime you jump you feel your muscles pull and your empty stomach hurls, you are almost sure that if you keep jumping you might throw up. 

When your coach finally lets you go it’s already 4:20, you mentally do the math, if you go to the locker rooms and shower you will be in the coffee shop at almost five o’clock, and agent Reid is probably already waiting for you, so you just grab your bag and run to your car mentally cursing yourself for not charging your phone. 

****

Spencer manages to escape Morgan and Rossi, avoiding their questions and he makes it to the coffee shop you indicated by 3:45, minutes go by tortuously, he sees people coming in and out from the coffee with cups on their hands, he sees people laughing and students dragging their feet, the exhaustion of exams and projects reflecting clearly on them, he gets a lot of looks and he starts to grow desperate, he calls you over and over but the calls go straight to voicemail.

By 4:30 he decides you stood him up, this was most likely a prank, how did he not notice? He was a grown ass man, an FBI agent, he was a profiler and still he fell for it. He feels terrible, how could he believe such a beautiful woman would ask him out and actually show up? He takes his bag and gets up from the chair, when he is leaving he sees a car parking and a y/h/c haired girl wearing a Cardinals hoodie and grey yoga pants getting down and running to the coffee shop. 

It was you, you didn’t stand him up, you were actually there, he can barely hold his emotion. 

“Doctor Reid.” You say, your forehead is covered in sweat and your chest is going up and down rapidly. “I am so, so, so, sorry, did I make you wait too long? I’m sorry, my phone died, and my alarm never went off, and I’ve been late everywhere, and my practice lasted too long, and i didn’t have your card so I couldn’t call you from another phone, and I came here right out of my training, so I must smell like a monster and I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t wait for long.” He lies, and you smile at him, and he can swear it is the most beautiful smile he has ever seen. “Should we order?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You lead the way and stop at the bar. “Hey Lindsey.”

The redhead barista smiles at you and then you look at him and he notices how your y/e/c sparkle with the white lights of the coffee shop. 

“What do you want?” You ask.

“You said something about peach lattes?”

“Peach-lavender lattes, it sounds weird but they are great.” You reply, and by this point he’s sure he would believe if you said the moon was made of tofu. 

“I’ll have one.”

“Great, two large peach-lavender lattes and a bagel please, can I also borrow your charger?” Lindsay marks your order on the cash register and tells you the total, when Spencer takes out his wallet you stop him. “No, I said I was buying.”

“No, I insist.” 

“Doctor Reid, put your wallet down, I was terribly late and I said I was buying, you can pay the next time.” The fact that you imply that there might be a next time makes his heart flutter. 

“Alright.” He agrees, when you get your orders you sit on the table he was waiting on and there’s a moment of awkward silence he is not sure how to break. “So, so you said you had questions?”

“Yes, I do.” You take a sip from your coffee and then look at him, he is expecting questions about the FBI, but that’s not where you go. “You have three PhDs, three BAs and you are only thirty-four, how is that even possible? Are you like a genius?”

“I, I don’t believe intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute.” You stare at him with your eyes wide open and a smile on your lips. “...yes, I’m a genius.”

“That’s… wow.” The conversation flows after that, he talks about some of the most interesting cases he has had, you intervene every now and then making questions or comments that always seem to go to the correct point, and he feels like he can speak freely with you.

“Well, the vast majority of unsubs with a similar MO aren’t driven by the killing, they are merely fascinated by the body parts, it’s like they psychologically exist in a realm where fantasy meets delusion, it’s basically like the blueprint to create the perfect serial killer… I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“It’s okay, it’s fascinating, please go on.” You are one of the only persons he has ever met that reacts that way, most of the time he gets interrupted, he is about to start again when your phone rings, you take a look at the screen and then say. “Sorry I have to take this, it will be just a sec.”

He smiles and nods and you slide to answer. 

“What is the point of having an expensive phone if you never answer? Do you know how worried I was?”

“Hi Dean.” You reply, internally laughing at the overprotectiveness of your brother. 

“Don’t “hi Dean” me, where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering your texts?”

“I’m in a coffee shop, and my phone died last night and I couldn’t charge it until now.” 

“Who are you with?”

“I’m with a… friend.”

“Friend? Are you out with a boy? Who is he? Let me talk to him.”

“Stop being so jealous Dean.” 

“So you are with a boy.”

“I’m sorry I have to go, love you, bye.” You say and you don’t even give him time to protest before you hang up. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” He must have guessed you wouldn’t be single, he feels jealousy invading him, and he fiddled with his empty cup. “Was that your boyfriend?”

“Gross, no.” There’s a wave of relief when you answer that, and he probably shouldn’t feel it, he’s leaving in a few days, it’s not like there’s the possibility of a relationship. “It was my brother, he can get all Mama Bear when he is worried.”

“Oh, is he your only brother?”

“No, I have three, Dean, Sam and Adam, I am the youngest, like by far, Dean is 19 years older, Sam is 15 years older and Adam beats me by 8 years.”

“That’s a big difference.”

“Yeah, Dean and Sam are my half-brothers, from dad’s first marriage, their mother died when they were very young and dad took it very hard and started to move them around the country, that’s how he met my mom, he went to Minnesota they had a one night stand and she got pregnant, but she didn’t tell him about Adam until he was like six, then he went back to Windom, they fell in love, dad moved them to Kansas, he married my mom and then they had me, hence the age gap.” You explain. “What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

“No, I’m an only child, I grew up with Doctor Who and Star Trek as my companions.”

“Doctor Who?”

“Yeah, it’s, it’s good.”

“I know, I’m not gonna act like I didn’t mourn for a week when Ten left Rose on the beach.”

“You like it?”

“I may look like your stereotype cheerleader, but I’m a huge geek, Dean and his best friend Charlie made sure of that.”

The conversation flows as freely as water after that, for some reason you find it easy to talk to him, you tell him so many things you haven’t even told Jo, you talk about everything, favorite holidays; yours is Christmas, his is Halloween; tv shows, characters. You delite with his rambling and pay attention to every word he says, when you finally realize it, the sky has turned dark and you are the last people in the coffee shop.

“I think we should probably let them close.” 

“Yeah, we should.” You both take your bags and stand up. “Hey, when are you leaving town?”

“On friday.”

“Let me make you dinner, I make a killer lasagna.” You look at him expecting an answer but he can barely say anything, he just had an amazing evening with a gorgeous girl who is now inviting him to her house, he should probably pinch himself to make sure he is not dreaming. “Spencer?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“It’s a date then.”

[minaminokyoko]

Peace Talks Reactions

Hey, Dresden Fandom. You guys may or may not be knee deep in Peace Talks, but if you are, I welcome you to the below reactions, in handy dandy bullet form. I would love to discuss the book if you’re interested, whether you reblog with comments or shoot me a chat. I just finished the book, so all spoilers are below the Read More tag. 

Woof. Well, at least it was something after six fucking years of waiting.

·         So before Butcher’s giant hiatus, we had this first chapter of Peace Talks already and I have to say I still feel like I felt six years ago: I don’t really know where he’s going with Thomas becoming a father. In terms of what that will do for him as a character. For Harry, it’s different. Harry keeps it close to the chest with his decisions, willing to die for the greater good in an instant, and becoming a father made him have to be more careful and thoughtful in his actions to be sure he can be there for his baby girl. I’m not sure where Butcher is going with this for Thomas, but I guess we’ll see.

·         I was pleased to find out Harry decided to stick with the protected apartment and is trying his best on Dad duty. Me gusta.

·         Right, let’s get to the first big elephant in the room: Ebenezar. Oh my fucking God. I want to punch his fucking lights out. My friend and I have argued about his reaction to seeing Thomas at the apartment already. I know Eb has Harry by a thousand years or more in experience, but it pisses me off that Eb can’t be bothered to learn more about Thomas. Nope. Just skip straight to irrational anger.  It was also disappointing to find out that Eb is not a part of Harry’s life as much as I thought he was in the past, so clearly he doesn’t understand how important Thomas is to him. I’m a bit miffed that Harry didn’t explain Thomas is his half-grandson to help him understand, but at the same time, Harry might be worried about what that revelation will do. Either way, it displays a massive lack of trust in Harry. To think Harry—who has survived all this fucking shit from the supernatural world so far—is just a pawn and he doesn’t know how incredibly dangerous the White Court is. Eb is downright disrespectful and insulting to his own grandson. I’m sorry, but I think he’s being an asshat in huge proportions by just thinking Harry is too stupid to know better and by not asking him why he feels loyal to Thomas.

·         In that same vein, Eb’s whole thing about wanting Harry to leave Maggie somewhere can kiss my ass. I’m with Harry on this one. It’s not that I don’t trust the foster care system and I think anything negative about adoption, either. Maggie is a target because she’s a Dresden. That’s it. There is nothing she can ever do about it. She is the daughter of Harry Dresden, Captain fuckin’ Disaster of the supernatural world. There is no place she can go where she will be safe and Harry is honestly her best shot at being watched over and protected, but not only that, if she’s gonna be in danger her whole life, she might as well be loved and cared for by her father too. Harry brings up such a good point about feeling abandoned and rejected and how Eb’s “protection” jag didn’t work for Margaret either. I know he wants what’s best for her, but I agree that Maggie has a better chance of surviving at Harry’s side than somewhere else. Hell’s bells, that’s how this whole fucking thing started anyway. Susan’s bitch ass hid the kid and it didn’t work. Sheesh.

·         And now the other elephant in the room: Murphy. I think part of me forgot how severe her injuries were. I had assumed months of PT and such would allow her to be mobile again, but then I read Chapter 5 and now I’m just angry and hurt. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. You just don’t. I can’t help it. Murphy is my favorite, goddamn it. I’ve reread the books where she’s helping Harry the most because their dynamic is so phenomenal. They’re my OTP. She is one of the best written female characters I’ve ever known, so ripping her ability to be at Harry’s side away is so…2020. It’s just a nasty, horrible thing and it’s shot my excitement for this novel right in the foot. I didn’t realize how important it was to me that Murphy is Harry’s badass ace in the hole until I was told she’ll be lucky to walk again. I know things have to get worse for characters in order for them to grow, but fuck this so much. I am praying she gets a magical contract or healing or a wish or something so she’s back in action or I’m done.

·         With that same elephant, fuck Jim Butcher for skipping over the foreplay at the end of Chapter 5. Yes, I said it. Fuck him. I know he thinks it’s funny to frustrate us, but this is an act of betrayal of the highest order. Why? Because I’ve waited TWENTY FUCKING YEARS for Harry and Murphy to go canon, and what does he do the first time we, the audience, get to see them in a relationship? Cut to curtains fluttering. Fuck you. We deserved that foreplay scene. No, I will NOT use my fucking imagination, pun intended. I just paid you $15 to use YOUR imagination, Jim. You spent fifteen books building up the trust, love, loyalty, and sexual tension of these two characters. That’s countless words and countless pages. And now that they’re FINALLY together, nope, skip it. Skip what should have been something intimate and powerfully emotional. Ha-ha-fucking-ha. I hope you step on a Lego barefoot. I will try to have faith that Butcher will give us what we want—a canon version of Chapter 14 of Skin Game—but if he doesn’t, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.

·         The thought of Mab and Lara Raith working together is utterly terrifying. No. Just no. Ugh, there are bad times ahead. I also thought it was kind of contrived that Lara is owed favors, which forces Harry to not be able to say no, and I think it’s a bit lazy on Jim’s part for this convenient block to be there and he can’t refuse the favors. It just felt like he didn’t want to put the energy into painting Harry into a corner this time, so here, a convenient favor. That being said, I cackled when Mab called him a bowl of porridge. That was legitimately hilarious. What a bitch.

·         Mm, Harry just called Murphy his girlfriend. I’ve waited twenty years for that alone. *happy sigh*

·         Oh, great. Someone sent Thomas to assassinate someone. I’m betting blackmail, whether he admits to it or not.

·         LOL @ Harry’s cursing policy with Maggie.

·         Harry. Don’t. Make. Promises. EVER.

·         I would not be the least bit surprised if this assassination attempt is Mab’s idea to cut off all of Harry’s allies but her so he will have no choice but to use her protection more often. Mab is a cold fuckin’ piece. Pun intended.

·         Harry, for real, do not square up with Ebenezar. You are a wolf, for sure, but that man is a werewolf by comparison.

·         I’m getting real tired of Ebenezar’s anti-vampire schtick. I get it. They’re bad. Now shut up.

·         This is so unfortunate: I’ve been missing Lara Raith just because she’s a hoot but with this whole favor thing and Harry and Murphy being fitted for chastity belts, I’m more tired than anything else.

·         Oh, neat, one of Gard’s sisters!

·         Of course Lara knows about Thomas being Ebenezar’s grandson. It’s Lara.

·         Oh, good, I’m sure whatever deal Harry just made with Molly isn’t stupid or reckless.

·         Yes, Sanya is a VERY weird man. That is an understatement, Butters.

·         Aha. I had a hunch it was River Shoulders and not the Genoskwa.

·         And oh good, the Genoskwa’s not dead. Yay. I hate you, Butcher.

·         Now there is a good tidbit of story for the series: that the reason everything is accelerating into bad news is we’re about to hit that 666 year mark that people are talking about, where the even worse shit hits. We’ve had small clues about Harry being starborn and this helps provide context for the shit that happens to him. I hope it’s not a Chosen One scenario, but it does explain why he’s been in so many scrapes and why he’s made it out of them so far. However, I tend to dislike destiny in most stories. It can get tedious. We’ll see what’s in store.

·         Ugh, and there it is, but I already knew Lara was gonna make poor Harry break Thomas out from the book trailer anyhow. Sigh.

·         Murphy calling the White Council useless is a fuckin’ mood and a half. I swear, they ain’t nothing but useless since these books first started. Harry hit the nail on the head earlier with Carlos and the Wardens, that they spend a lot of time talking at Harry but not listening. That’s been their entire M.O. from the start. They don’t listen to anything he has to say; they just insist they know better and that he should fall in line, not caring about what he has on said line, which is very often innocent lives. I love the hypocrisy of them preaching to him about making cold, rational decisions when it’s not their asses who have to deal with the consequences. Yes, there is fallout from what Harry does, but the opposition is always there and it doesn’t act solely based on what Harry Dresden does. I really fucking hate the Council at this point.

·         So we get a second of tender kissing in the tub and an “I love you” and then Butcher cuts away again. I am so over it. I don’t have enough energy to put towards how angry he’s making me right now and he doesn’t deserve it anyway. I cannot believe he spent all this time building this relationship up and then makes it canon and won’t touch it. Fuck you.

·         Murphy immediately spotting all three of Harry’s tails is life. God, I love my bad bitch.

·         I do like that Harry has been practicing his Veils. That’s smart. It also shows character development and wisdom that he’s recognizing how much more useful stealth is and that even though it’s hard for him, it’s worth the effort to learn. Good book boyfriend.

·         It’s still Murphy, bitch. Injured or not. My queen is a queen. Try her if you want, Freydis.

·         PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT MURPHY YOU POOR CATHOLIC DARLING COME HERE. That pass was hilariously unexpected in a book that hasn’t been all that funny so far. Thanks, Jim. That got a whole bunch of cackling out of me.

·         “I like your brother.” I just clapped and squealed. I mean, duh, of course Murphy likes Thomas, but this pleases me greatly to hear her say it aloud. Murph is tough and doesn’t like to say stuff like that out loud usually. I’m delighted.

·         For all my complaints, I appreciate Butcher bringing Murphy in to help Harry plan everything. She’s hella smart and experienced in matters where you need to get someone out without being all guns a-blazing. And it is an apology for her being benched halfway thru Skin Game, imo.

·         Oh, shit. Harry doesn’t know Molly’s the one who attacked Carlos. Ugh. I bet this is gonna explode in someone’s face.

·         And Harry just fucked up the rest of his friendship with Carlos, not know Molly already did the same thing. Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat.

·         “You just went from a three to a six.” Jesus Christ, immortals are so savage, I swear. I laughed, tho. That was mean as hell.

·         I’m dying that Freydis wants a threesome with Harry and Murphy. I mean, who can blame her? Fuck, I want a threesome with Harry and Murphy, if I’m being totally honest here. The thirst is so fucking real.

·         Finally, someone made a joke about Harry and Murphy getting together.

·         Ah, this IS what I missed about Lara, though—she loves to fuck with Harry for the lolz and nothing other than the lolz. I mean, he’s such a peach. I would do the same thing.

·         Also, Jim, for God’s sake, make up your mind about vampires getting burned! I don’t get it. Thomas can touch Harry, and Harry is and always has been loved, so when do vampires get burned and when do they not? We’ve seen Harry touch Lara even when Susan was still alive and remember the kiss in White Night? MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND. I had a debate about this with another fan because it’s so goddamn inconsistent! If anyone being loved by anyone else burns them, then that would mean the entire world would be in the know about White Court vampires because they’d get burnt left and right touching people who are loved. I thought it only happens if they try to feed, not just touching each other. I think Jim needs to pay better attention to his own lore or finally spit out an explanation. We’ll see if he does later with that whole kiss thing from the book trailer, I guess. Argh! *Yosemite Sam curses*

·         I’m really starting to hate Harry’s condition and the fact that he didn’t stop to ask Eb what it is or how to stop it. Ugh.

·         Oh, good, and now everyone will think Harry and Lara are a couple. Convenient. Like they don’t already have constant trust issues. I’m sure Eb won’t block a gasket or anything.

·         Oh, yay, a Malcolm Dresden flashback! This is a delightful surprise. Like a lot of the fanbase, we’ve always wanted to know more about him. He seemed like a good man.

·         Yay! Vadderung to the rescue!

·         Okay, I do NOT like Murphy being alone with a starving Thomas and Lara. Not one little bit.

·         Ah, so the goddess Ethniu gets introduced in this book. That’s why Peace Talks got split and then Battle Ground popped out as the next book.

·         “You’re out of the White Council if you do this.” FUCK YOU, EBENEZAR. Jesus Christ, fuck you. All the Council has EVER done is use and abuse Harry Dresden. They have constantly blamed him for everything or forced him to fight their goddamn battles. You can shove it right up your old crusty ass for all I care. I am sick to death of this belief that they are just so righteous and trustworthy and good when they’re self-important douchebags who think that people are ants and can’t be bothered to protect them unless it directly benefits the Council.

·         I think I’m angriest because up until this point, Ebenezar has been mostly reasonable and it feels inorganic that Jim pushed him this hard. It’s just kind of exhausting because it feels like the plot needs Eb to lose his shit instead of it being something natural. I won’t be shocked if we find out he’s been compromised somehow, but I guess I’ll have to find out myself.

·         Murphy is right on the money. We thought we knew Eb, but we REALLY don’t. And that sucks. A lot. Especially since Harry has barely any family at all.

·         I can honestly tell why this book took Jim six years to write. It’s awful stagnant. It’s the exact same reason that the first draft of Of Fury and Fangs kicked my ass. I wrote the story in the first draft incorrectly, in a way, because all the characters were passive for the most part, and the other half of the problem was that I got halfway through this book and thought up an idea for a better book, but in order for the better book to happen, there were too many things I couldn’t ignore in this one, so I still had to finish it and make it good. Peace Talks, to me, feels like it’s obligatory to set up the next book, and maybe that’s why it feels lackluster to me. It’s a transitional book, which isn’t a bad thing, but it’s definitely in the bottom five of the entire series. Transitional books aren’t bad, but they aren’t good either. Most authors know that this tends to happen if you write a trilogy. All the really big, important shit tends to happen in the first and third book if you’re not careful. In this case, yeah, there’s stuff happening, but it’s largely passive. It’s kind of like why back in 2010 people were so hard on Iron Man 2—it spent all this time setting up shit for the MCU, which in the long run is a good thing, but that makes it weak when it tries to stand on its own. 

As it stands, Peace Talks is mediocre. Jim took way too many shortcuts. It felt rushed, ironically enough, because he was so busy moving pieces around to set up for Battle Ground that Peace Talks doesn’t really stand out as interesting or likable like the other books. I really understand why he got stuck and couldn’t write on it for six years. My two biggest beefs here are him pushing Ebenezar into the antagonist role and him completely fucking bailing on the Harry/Murphy relationship after sixteen books of waiting. I mean, yeah, fine, because everything in this book is just set up for Battle Ground, maybe then we’ll get more acknowledgment of the romance and the importance of the relationship, but as it stands, I’m dissatisfied with both aspects. This is part of why we didn’t want a hiatus. If you make us wait this long, inevitably, the result is not going to be up to par. There are VERY few things we as people have waited forever for that ended up living up to our expectations. I almost feel like all the fan theories and fanfiction was a better, more creative result than what actually happened in Peace Talks. That’s harsh, I know, but I’ve been reading the fan generated stuff for six years and that’s just how I feel. 

This is a mediocre novel that’s placing a LOT of weight on what’s to come, which is dangerous from a quality standpoint. It could be a lot worse. I was expecting a disaster. Instead, I got a disappointment. I can live with it, but only if Battle Ground makes up for it. If it doesn’t, then we’re all in a world of hurt.

I’ll take maybe a week or so and then consider if I want to do an actual review or not. We’ll see how I feel once I digest everything and talk it out with friends.

Overall Grade: 3 out of 5 stars

[kagetsukai]

Writer Habits Tag

I was tagged by @queen-kass-the-writer​ & @roguelioness​. I think @ma-sulevin also did it? Anyway, if you see it and you want to do it as well, go forth and do the tag!

I write: daily | most days | a few times a week | a few times a month | random

I accidentally made it my goal this year to get more consistent with writing. In general, I try to write every day, but every week or so, I’ll take one day off to do something else. I will always force myself to take a day off after a day when I write a couple thousands of words; I know myself and I know that tends to lead to burn out so I do my best to mitigate the damage

I write most often: when I first get up | later in the morning | afternoon | evening | the wee hours of the night | whenever

There’s something magical about nighttime where the world is quiet and calm that makes me focus better on writing. I’ll occasionally write at other times, but it’s rare.

In one sitting I tend to write: a few sentences at a time | a few hundred words | a few thousand words | a complete chapter/section matter how long | An outline | whatever comes

I’ve given myself a goal of writing 250 words per day that I sorta stick to. Most days I write around 500 words, but then I’ll have days where I’ll be mostly editing and add maybe 100 words. I try not to focus on that too much, though I *do* track my daily progress. I like numbers, okay?

I tend to write scenes: in chronological order with no skipping | mostly in order but with some filler/skipping | whatever scene I feel like | who knows what’s gonna come out????

I used to be QUITE the stickler about this part, but I’m currently writing a story where I’m trying something new. I’ve written a solid outline of what’s supposed to happen in each chapter and then I’ll write the chapter itself in chronological order, but jump around from chapter to chapter, depending on what strikes my mood. I noticed it has helped me stay creative and productive on days when I’m feeling like shit and not able to write certain things. If I managed to finish this story this way, it might become my new way of writing.

The things that comes easiest to me are: dialogue | description of senses | description of action | description of characters | exposition | other

I loooooooooove dialogue. I’m pretty good at it and I could write characters chatting with each other for days. I actually have to stop myself from getting out of hand with that stuff cuz I’d write only dialogue, if I could.

I tend to write: on a phone | on a laptop | in a notebook | on whatever paper I can find | with speech to text | in the blood of my enemies | it doesn’t really matter to me | on paper first and then typed up | old school typewriter | On a computer

I love that this makes a distinction between a laptop and a computer even though it’s basically the same thing. Anyway! I need something with a keyboard to write or I get super frustrated. I type fast and if I can’t translate my thoughts into words fast enough, my brain is unhappy. It’s why I rarely do longhand. Also, people who can type up a story on the phone are not human - how do you do that???

When I take a break from writing, it usually lasts: a few days | a few weeks | a few months | it’s kind of random

As mentioned before, I try to do a day break every seven days or so; it’s better for my mental health and for my creative process. When I burn out, it can take up to a month for me to get back to writing because my mind will want to go back to what I was doing before and not understand that it’s not healthy to go back. It’s complicated.

My favorite thing to do when I’m on a writing break is: recharge with other creative hobbies | read/ consume other media | do something physical | catch up with old friends | work on my WIP in other ways like with playlists or art | other | play video games | get lost in work

Being physical is my favorite thing to do. I babysit my niece sometimes so I get to toss her around and get my cardio in that way. I also weight lift three times a week. I swear to god, I’m most full of ideas while I’m at the park with my niece and I have NO WAY to write down my thoughts. It really motivates me to write. Other than that, I play guitar and I absolutely love the change in creative medium when I’m stuck or on a break. I will pull up a random Polish song and I’ll learn how to play it on the guitar. It’s fantastic. Oh, and I’ll occasionally listen to audiobooks, though it’s been a struggle lately. Oh well!

In general, I think my writing habits are: pretty much what I need them to be | okay, but I’m working on making them better | non-existent | not great :/ | i’m excited to develop them further | totally random | perfect for me

I don’t know if my writing habits will ever be perfectly healthy, but I’m trying to not completely murder myself while trying to write a story anymore. I’ve been getting better about not writing into the wee hours of the morning AND being satisfied with just a little bit of writing instead of raging that I haven’t written a certain amount. I’m getting better about taking breaks when I feel like I need one. I’m getting better about forgiving myself for taking a day to myself. I also realized that if I’m writing something I’m passionate about, the words will still be there after I take a day break. It’s a good feeling ;)

[yanjuniverse]

RANKING MY TOP 5 FICS

hello everyone. let me just take a moment to introduce myself. my name is Megan and two years ago, I started this blog originally under the user name @/syzygy-yoongi to post one shots about the boys from IQIYI’s Idol Producer. since that time, i have gain a mass following (2,000+ today) that i am forever grateful for. i have also made many friends that i love dearly and am so blessed to have in my life.

when i began this blog, i didn’t expect so many people to pay attention or to read my stories. if you remember, i was pumping out chapters two or three times a day, finishing series within a week or two because i loved writing that much.

today, i’m going to rank my top five completed series that i have written. feel free to reblog with your own opinions/rankings as well or leave me an ask with your opinions about my stories! (i’m very bored).

Now let’s get this show on the road!

SPOILERS BELOW! vvv

1. Girls Like You (Cai Xukun)

Summary: IP High School is one of the most prestigious boarding schools in China for the fine arts. Owned by the Huang family, the school only accepts the best of the best. Many of China’s biggest stars came from this school and many of their students already have offers upon their graduation.

This year will be Cai Xukun’s fourth year at the school and fourth year witnessing the favoritism of his classmate, Zhu Zhengting (who’s parents are world class dancers) as well as the favoritism from students Fan Chengcheng (little brother of China’s most famous actress) and headmasters’ son, Huang Justin. The three of them are known to run the school. They get away with being late to classes, missing classes completely, missing assignments, talking back and Xukun swears he’s never seen them in full uniform. Safe to say that he kind of despises them and their “holier-than-thou” mindsets.

So when Justin’s sister joins them for her senior year, he could only roll his eyes at the news. While all of Xukun’s friends seem to fall for her, he can’t see the magic of it all.

“Girls like you? Girls like you are the kind that I can’t stand! You think just because you’re rich and pretty that we all have to fall for you? Well news flash, it’s not going to work on me. Now stay out of my way!”

MY OPINION: I really hold this fic near and dear to my heart because of the amount of work I put into the relationship between YN and Justin, YN and Zhengting and YN and Xukun. These were the three main relationships throughout the story that I feel really made readers pick sides. In all honesty, I was very nervous the first half the the story because everyone was on Zhengting’s side. This story was one of my most popular series and I was very pleased with the outcome, though I do have some regrets.

LOVED MOST: The relationship between YN and Justin. Justin’s character was the most difficult character I have ever portrayed. The early stages of developing his character actually spurred from Charlie from the movie The Perks of Being a Wallflower. As for YN’s character, I grew up in a household where my parents were always at work and so I had to raise my younger siblings (obviously not to the extent of YN’s and my parents are kind people). Her motherly tendencies came a lot from the things I had personally done growing up (making meals, putting together backpacks, so on and so forth). I think of all the relationships I’ve ever written, YN’s and Justin’s “Huang or Die” relationship is always going to be my favorite.

BIGGEST REGRET: The ending. Looking back on it now, I honestly think the story should have gone another way. Of course YN runs from Zhengting but I personally think that the ending was way too rushed. It was something I put together in the matter of hours just because I wanted to get the story over with. I think now, I would have let YN have more time to be herself and to be a kid in Korea rather than carrying on being a mother. I also would have liked it if she had ended up with Chengcheng, the only boy in this entire story besides Zhengting, who had been there from start to finish . I would have also liked to have seen the more interaction with her and Yanjun and Ziyi, considering they, along with Bingbing were the main hands that took part in her escape.

2. SUBSCRIBE! (Xiao Gui)

Summary: Wang Linkai just posted videos of himself playing videos for fun. He never in a million years expected to build the type of following he did.

or

Zhu YN started off just posting little home videos for her and her friends. She never in a million years expected to build the type of following she did.

or

The one where you and Xiao Gui have no idea who the other is until one day, your brother sends you the link to a video called “REACTING TO TEXTS FROM AN ANGEL I MET TODAY!”

MY OPINION: Though Xiao Gui continues to be my bias up until today, the fic that I wrote for him is second place. I had a lot of fun writing it but with a more regrets than I did with Girls Like You. (Also let’s all remember when I wrote that he was a matcha frappe guy and then days later, he was papped with that exact drink).

LOVED MOST: Xiao Gui’s character development is something I’m always going to take pride in. I think out of all of my stories, his character was one of the most carefully planned. There were little details (such as when Gui goes from stealing Ziyi’s car keys to asking for them in the end) that really showed how much he grew. I’m also glad he didn’t just give up his dream for love and how he wanted YN to be free while he was away. I feel like had he been the same person from the beginning, he either would’ve given up his music career or made YN wait for him. I really loved to see how much he grew during this story.

BIGGEST REGRET: How YN knew Xiao Gui’s mother 🤦🏻‍♀️. That was such a plot twist ending that didn’t even make sense. I wish I had found a different way for YN to have gotten Gui to be with his mother other than “oh she sells me fruit”.

3. Smile for the Camera (Zhu Zhengting)

Summary: Nine Percent Photography is a small company with big names. Owned by Y/N, it features the faces of Cai Xukun, Chen Linong, Fan Chengcheng, Huang Justin, Lin Yanjun, Wang Ziyi and You Zhangjing.

Nine Percent Photography is best known for their creativity and ability to push their models into various aesthetics. They are one of the richest companies in Asia with every model raking in an estimated 2.3 million dollars every month. It is every model’s dream to be apart of this world class company.

Zhu Zhengting is an aspiring model. Up until this point, he has only scored small gigs. That is, until one phone call changed his entire life.

Zhengting finally has the chance to follow his dreams. He’s not going to let anything get in his way. Right?

MY OPINION: This story was the first story of mine that really blew up. It’s my pride and joy and where my following really started to build.

LOVED MOST: I loved the harmony between the company. It was like they were all destined to be together. I also liked how they were so honest with each other towards the end. I loved how they all had to fall apart to come back together. I also really appreciated Yanjun’s friendship with YN and how much YN loved her company.

BIGGEST REGRET: I should have made the the story longer so that YN and Zhengting could have had more time to fall in love with each other. I reread it a couple of weeks ago and honestly, the way the fell was so awkward and rushed. Had I gone back to write it, I would have focused more on their love story. I also wished I would have gone and written more about their modeling and/or their work since they were a modeling company. I also wished I had gone deeper into YN and Zeren’s backstory.

4. Oblivious (Wang Ziyi)

Wang Ziyi has never been the type to confront his feelings head on. He’s always swallowed the butterflies, tied his shoe laces and held on to the safety handle to make sure he never let him fall for anyone. He likes to say it’s because he doesn’t want to get his heart broken but his friends say that maybe he’s just saving those feelings for you.

or

the one where people aren’t sure whether you two really hate each other or really like each other.

MY OPINION: This was one of my more humorous stories. I’m usually an angst writer so getting to write Ziyi and YN in such a playful manner was like a breath of fresh air. This is also the story that came after I took my first hiatus (which was supposed to be like a week but ended up being like a day lol). I remember the stress of wanting to write something angsty for Ziyi and not having the storyline so instead, I decided to write a funnier story for him. Though, not as popular as Girls Like You, Subscribe! or Smile for the Camera, it still ranks high for me.

LOVED MOST: I LOVED HOW FUNNY ZIYI AND YN’S CHARACTERS WERE — actually all of them! One of my favorite parts of the story is always going to be the line where Linong says he has “bible study in an hour” and Yanjun replies “PLEASE STOP CALLING YOUR THEOLOGY (the study of the nature of God and religious beliefs) CLASS BIBLE STUDY!” All of the characters played a big part in the story unlike in the others where characters like Zhangjing and Linong are more of the background extras.

BIGGEST REGRET: THE WHOLE ENDING! I remember a lot of people were upset with YN and her plans and I agree because what she did was a bit uncalled for. But I remember just wanting it to end so I let it end the way it did. Had I gone back and rewritten it, I probably would have let Xingjie and YN play out for a bit before the two realized they were better off as friends. Sort of along the lines of Lara Jean and John Ambrose.

5. Trust Me - Lin Yanjun

Summary: Summary: Ever since you were a freshman in high school, Wang Ziyi has always felt the need to protect you. Now you’re a freshman in college and nothing has changed. When he hears that the labeled player, Lin Yanjun, is trying to make his way into your life, Ziyi finds it harder to keep his secret under wraps - especially when you make friends with You Zhangjing, Lin Yanjun’s best friend.

MY OPINION: Ah yes. I feel like this is a forgotten story of mine. It was one of my first ever series. I think I was still @/syzygy-yoongi at the time that I wrote this. I still get nostalgic when I see people finding it now. This is actually the story that got me into writing series (I had never written one before Trust Me) when a follower suggested the idea to me.

LOVED MOST: I really loved the plot twist at the end. I think of all of my stories, this was the only one that I really planned out and stuck to it. I didn’t overthink Trust Me because at the time, I did get have many followers and I didn’t have anyone to disappoint.

BIGGEST REGRET: I think the reason why I ranked Trust Me so lowly is because of the lack of quality it had. It was the earliest development of what yanjuniverse is today. This is the story that made me realize that I really had a knack for angst. I have the fondest memories of Trust Me and I’m so happy I wrote it.

Conclusion: This was my top five rankings for my completed series. Of course it doesn’t go into my incompleted series (I Bet would’ve knocked Trust Me right off of this list). This was a complete waste of time but just something I wanted to do because I had just spent the past couple of weeks rereading my fics. Hope you all enjoyed and if you made it this far, thank you so much. I’m so grateful for this blog. It really made me who I am today. I’m so grateful for the memories and how much I grew from these stories!

[freedom-of-writing]

You’re all I want, all I need

So this is basically my take on what happens when Clarke holds the knife to Lexa's throat in ep. 3x03 and how the story develops from there. I'm sorry but there's no better way to summarize it. You'll just have to read it and find out.

Trigger warning: major character death. Yes, it's Lexa. No, my name is not JRat, so... "Don't be afraid, death is not the end."

 Chapter 1: I'm ready now

Clarke is sitting on the edge of her new bed staring at the knife in her hands. Her mind can't help but go back to that one other time when she'd found herself in a similar situation. That time Raven had offered her a knife to kill the Commander, but she chose to kill Finn instead, to preserve their alliance. An alliance Lexa has broken, leaving her alone to save her people and to bear the deaths of yet other hundreds of innocent human beings. She’s hated Lexa for that and for three months she's tried to blame her for turning her into Wanheda. But, deep down, she does understand why she did what she did and she knows it couldn't have been easy for her to make that choice. She’d seen it in her eyes as they were shining with unshed tears, and she’d heard it in the slight crack of her voice as she told her "May we meet again", before turning and leaving.

For months that little voice inside her head has kept reminding her of the Commander's betrayal and how she was going to kill her if they ever crossed paths again. But right now, looking at that knife, it's like all the hatred she’s held for Lexa is gone, and she's not so sure that she wants her dead anymore.

Clarke is so lost in her trail of thoughts that she almost misses the crack of the door of her room opening and the sound of footsteps coming in. It takes her a moment to realize it's Lexa before she all but jumps on her feet, with her back turned towards the other girl and the knife held firmly in her hand in front of her, where Lexa won't see it.

"You wanted to see me? I'm here." As Lexa utters these words, Clarke does everything in her power not to cry in front of her. She will not be weak in front of Lexa again, she can't-

"Clarke?" Lexa speaks again.

That’s it. It’s now or never. Clarke gathers all her courage and throws herself at Lexa, holding the knife to her throat. Clarke is ready for any reaction coming from Lexa, but the Commander doesn't move. She does nothing but look at Clarke like she’d known this moment would come at some point. Like she's giving Clarke permission to take her life if that'll make her feel better. Clarke starts shaking, because this is not the reaction she was expecting from Lexa. Why isn't she fighting? Why is she looking at Clarke with so much sorrow? Why do her eyes hold so many emotions when she's supposed to be the heartless Commander that's haunted her thoughts and dreams ever since the destruction of Mount Weather?

"I'm sorry". Lexa whispers softly, with her voice almost cracking. And that's all it takes for Clarke to let go of that little strength she had left. She bursts into tears, shaking her head vehemently as if to try and drive those words out of her mind.

Lexa looks at her for a brief second, trying not to cry herself. It’s her fault Clarke is so broken right now, and she’ll never forgive herself for causing the girl she loves so much pain. "I never meant to turn you into this." She finally manages to whisper those words so heavy with regret.

Clarke can tell she really means them, so she let’s go of all the walls she’s built around her heart in these past few months. As all the emotions come flooding in, Clarke moves forward and sinks in Lexa’s arms, sobbing hard into her chest. Tear after tear, she let’s go of all the hatred she felt for Lexa. She knows the Commander had to put her people first, she knows she’s not heartless, quite the opposite in fact. Lexa cares about other people so much. Plus, Clarke is the one who’s pulled that lever to let the radiation into Mount Weather, so Lexa’s not the only one to be blamed for everything that’s happened. But what really gets to Clarke in that moment is that Lexa is actually the only one who's ever asked for her forgiveness and not for her apology. Clarke’s saved her people over and over again, and yet they keep asking for her to do more. They say she doesn’t try hard enough to protect them, and if that weren’t enough, they keep reminding her of all the blood she has on her hands. Even her own mother chose to accuse of the deaths of the people of TonDC, instead of trying and understand she was only trying to save her people. But Lexa’s not like them. No. She’s like Clarke. She knows what it takes to be a leader. All the hard choices Clarke had to make she’s made them too. And now she’s here willing to take all that guilt on her own shoulders, so that Clarke doesn’t have to bear it anymore.

As she’s standing there in her room in Polis, with Lexa's arms wrapped around her shaking and sobbing form, Clarke knows that maybe, after all this time spent barely surviving, she can finally start living again. That’s what she wants, to live and not just survive. With that newfound hope, Clarke takes a deep breath and raises her head to look straight into Lexa’s beautiful green eyes. Clarke knows how much emotion they can carry, she’d seen it before, but what she sees right now takes her completely off guard. Lexa has lowered her walls down completely, and Clarke even catches a glimpse of a tear running down her cheek. Then, in the moment their eyes lock, something other than sorrow shows up in those green orbs: a sparkle of hope. It's small but Clarke can see it, and she's more than willing to fuel it, so she takes a deep breath to steady her voice and without unlocking her eyes from the Commander's, she speaks for the first time.

"I need you too, Lexa.” She takes her time to say the next words, so she can study Lexa’s reaction.

“I need you. But it terrifies me. I’m afraid because… if you leave me again, it will kill me.” Regret comes flooding Lexa’s eyes all over again, but Clarke doesn’t let that vision stop her from finishing.

“For three months I tried to hate you, I wanted to hate you, and I hated that I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that it was your fault, that it was your choice that forced me to kill everyone in the Mountain, I… I did understand why you did it. And I knew you were right. I would've saved my people too if I had the chance. Because that's what it means to be a leader. You taught me that. Leaders must put their head before their hearts. It’s our job to save everyone, because they're our people and we owe them to. Even though everyone doesn't include the one person we truly wish we could save. I understand that now. But I still can't go through all that again. So… if my people agree to join your coalition, you can never turn your back on us again. On me.” Clarke pauses again to give Lexa time for those words to sink in. Then, with a brief smile, she takes Lexa’s hand into hers and she concludes.

“I'm ready for you now, Lexa. If you promise not to betray me again."

Lexa is now crying profusely, not even bothering to try and hold back her emotions. A ghost of a smile makes its way on her lips, but it's only a second before her expression changes to a dead serious one. She looks down at their joined hands, then straight into Clarke’s eyes.

"I won't."

Lexa let’s go of Clarke’s hand. Then, as if trying to prove her that she really means it, she sinks to her knees and, never breaking eye contact, she continues: "I swear fealty to you, Klark kom Skaikru. I vow to treat your needs as my own and your people as my people."

The Commander bows to no one, Clarke knows that. At least, no one but her. She’s at a loss of words, and she can only hold her hand out for the other woman to take. With a gentleness only reserved for Clarke, Lexa takes her hand and rises back up. Blue orbs lock on green ones and Clarke knows she can really trust her now. But most of all, she knows she can finally live again, so she takes a few steps forward to be standing only inches away from the Commander. No, not the Commander. Lexa. The person standing in front of her right now is just Lexa, not the leader of 12 clans. She takes a deep breath before offering her the softest of smiles. Only when she sees Lexa's shoulders relax as she releases a sigh of relief, Clarke makes the final move to close the gap between the two of them. Her lips meet Lexa's, but it takes the other woman a few seconds before she responds to the kiss. Clarke doesn't rush her. She stays still, because she doesn't want to overwhelm Lexa, who has yet to realize what’s really happening. When she finally feels the slight pressure of Lexa's lips on hers, she starts moving her own ones slowly and tentatively. They kiss gently for a few seconds, until they need to part for air. Neither of them moves too far away, though, not to break contact completely. They press their foreheads together and their eyes stay closed a few more moments. When they make eye contact again, Clarke is surprised to find they are both crying. But it’s happy tears this time, because they're not alone in this cruel world anymore. They have each other now. Clarke moves her head back a little, and she notices Lexa's offering her the most stunning smile she's ever seen. God, she’s so beautiful when she smiles. Clarke can't help but smile back with the largest and brightest smile she can manage.

It's hard to tell how long they stay there smiling at each other, but a sudden knock on the door breaks them out of their reverie. Both Clarke and Lexa respond to it with a groan and an amused shake of their heads.

"Yes?" Clarke gives whoever it is at the door the permission to enter, not even bothering to put some distance between her and Lexa.

"Heda. Wanheda.” Titus, Of course, he had to be the one disturbing them.

“I'm sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to let you know that Abby and Marcus of the Sky People have arrived, and they are ready to meet you when you're done." The bald man eyes them suspiciously for a moment before Lexa dismisses him.

"Thank you, Titus. You may go now. We'll meet them in a moment."

With a small nod for each woman, Titus turns and leaves. As soon as they are alone again, Lexa looks back at Clarke and talks to her softly.

"Your mother's here. I'll give you some time alone to catch up before we talk about Skaikru becoming the 13th clan." And with that she moves for the door, only to be stopped on her tracks by Clarke's voice.

"Wait! I have a better idea. We can catch up and discuss politics at the same time. Let me talk to them about joining your coalition. Hopefully they'll listen to me."

"Alright. Let me know their decision then." Lexa agrees with a slight nod of her head before turning back towards the door and making her way out of the room.

Clarke keeps staring at the door until she can no longer catch sight of the other woman. With a deep sigh, she leaves her room as well to go meet with her mother and Kane. She has absolutely no idea how she’s going to convince them Lexa is trustable. It's not like she can tell them the Commander of the Grounders is not going to betray them again because they’re in love with each other. Wait! Woah, love?! Where does that even come from? I mean, of course she is aware of how much she cares about Lexa, but… love? She's so busy worrying her mind with these thoughts she almost misses the door to the room where her mom and Kane were waiting for her.

She takes a deep breath, gathering all her courage, and nods at the guards standing outside the door to let her in. Chapter 2: The 13th clan

[inspired-by-the-music]

Ardently

Part One: First Impressions

Pairings: Kyungsoo x OC, Jongin x OC

Genre: enemies to lovers

Word Count: 2k

taglist: @jineunwootrash​

Note: (oof a long note, here we go) Here is the first chapter from a Kyungsoo fic I will be working on. This is based on Pride and Prejudice; it is set in present-day, in the K-Pop industry. I’m experimenting with writing in first person, and the main character is named Maisa. There will be a few original characters in this story, and I am very excited because this is the first time I will write a full-length fic for this blog that is not mostly a Social Media AU. I will likely not post the rest until I have finished the story just so I will have plenty of time to develop and edit my ideas without publishing plot holes, but I was just too excited about this idea to keep it all to myself. I realllllllly hope you like it! -Ash

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Jongin. The many years we spent together as children didn’t prepare us to be separated for months at a time because of his busy schedules as an official S.M. Entertainment idol. Although he never failed to brighten my day through texts, phone calls, and FaceTimes, nothing compared to seeing his smile in person. 

Will Taemin be somewhere in this building? I wondered as I approached the S.M. building where Jongin asked to meet. Surely he’s here somewhere. SHINee has just finished a tour in Japan. 

I squirmed at the thought of Taemin, not because we had some kind of disagreement or because I was as starstruck as almost every other person in the world, but because I had been avoiding him for what now seems like a very childish reason. 

Taemin had ventured far beyond the poor town we— he, Jongin, and I— had been raised in, and his fame grew daily. I wasn’t jealous— not maliciously, anyway— but I felt that he and I were living in very different worlds, and I worried that if I spent too much time with him, he would realize it too. 

This fear would have threatened my friendship with Jongin, too, if he wasn’t so determined to honor our childhood promise to be best friends forever.

However, when he smiled warmly as he stepped through the glass doors and drew me into a tight embrace, my fear was quickly quelled and replaced with confidence that Jongin would remind grounded at my side no matter how high his talents dared him to soar. And I couldn’t decide if that made me feel relieved or guilty. 

“So where’s this little restaurant you’re so obsessed with?” I asked as he released me. 

Pointing across the street, he replied, “Just there.” And when I tried to follow his directions he grabbed me by arm and said, “But first— I’ve convinced one of the executives to meet with you!”

"What?" My jaw dropped.

How had I not seen through the lunch invitation that thinly veiled Jongin's thousandth attempt to coerce one of his bosses into giving me a job? I had likely forgotten about that goal of his since his efforts never succeded past a few uncomfortable phone calls where I stubbornly maintained that, "I don't want to owe you or Taemin." But now that he dragged me into the building, a conversation with some professional executive seemed inevitable. 

"Ew!" Jongin shrieked and dropped my hand as soon as the elevator doors closed behind him and effectively trapped me into his plan. "Your palms are really sweaty." While wiping his hands off on his jeans, he advised, "You should see a doctor about that."

I argued," Clammy palms are a natural response to sudden extreme stress!" Still, I blushed at his observation and tried to pass my colored cheeks off as a symptom of annoyance by asking, "How could you trick me into some kind of job interview? I was promised sushi!"

Jongin laughed, probably mistaking my authentic blossoming panic for theatrics. "Don't worry, Mai, you'll still get your sushi-- you'll just get a chance at your dream job first."

His natural optimism should have been some sort of comfort. Instead, I crossed my arms, pressed my back against the cold steel elevator door, and mumbled, "Don't be ridiculous, Jongin, nobody would hire some random girl off the streets to write songs-- especially not one of the big three."

Ever determined to disagree, Jongin grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and  reminded me, "You're not just some random girl-- you're my best friend, you're insanely talented, and on the off chance that Mr. Lee doesn't see that, I'll get you a meeting with everyone in this industry until you're hired."

Maybe it wasn't the best pep talk in history, but I swear that Jongin's smile could inspire anyone to do just about anything, so I shamelessly followed him out of the elevator, holding my head high. I only faltered when he stopped abruptly and said, "Wait here. Let me make sure Mr. Lee isn't busy."

Instantly, my confidence evaporated. The hall was eerily silent except for the clicking of keyboards that escaped from the  few open office doors, so I quietly hissed, "You mean you don't even have an appointment?"

Jongin held a finger up to his lips. Perhaps sensing my screaming instinct to run, he repeated, "Wait here. I'll be right back." He tapped his knuckles against the sleek black door, just under a gold sign that read Soo-man Lee: CEO, and he winked at me before entering the room at Mr. Lee's beckoning. 

Suffice it to say that I wasted no time racing back to the elevator once Jongin was out of sight. It wasn't that I wanted to disappoint Jongin or seem ungrateful of his efforts, but meeting the CEO of S.M. Entertainment seemed like a giant leap rather than the first step toward my dream of composing music. The fact that I was unprepared and uninvited made the whole situation feel like a nightmare-- not at all like a dream come true. 

As my tennis shoes slapped against the marble floor, I decided that I could easily beg for Jongin's forgiveness, and he would kindly grant it, but I could never reclaim my pride after being rejected by S.M. I could never recover from the crushing determination that I wouldn't get to achieve my dreams alongside Jongin and Taemin. I preferred to keep telling myself "someday, someday soon," because then I would never have to face the absolute of "never--you aren't good enough."

When did I become so paralyzed by fear? My thoughts stunned me. I considered myself bold, unafraid to speak my mind, in all manners except the pursuit of my deepest dream. What good is it to be brave except when it really counts?

As I struggled to no avail to find an answer within myself, somebody rounded the corner at a sprint and collided with me. With what felt like a  thundering crash, I fell onto my back. My string of curses complimented that of whoever ran into me, but I was initially too dazed to glance at him. 

When I finally sat upright and glared at him, prepared to lecture him for failing to offer so much as an apology, I noticed that he was too busy gathering his scattered papers to even realize that he knocked me down. I was going to ask where he was going that was so important-- or if he had ever heard of a paperclip-- but I was shocked into silence when he looked at me over his glasses with eyes blown wide. 

I never imagined that I would meet Do Kyungsoo while running away from a job interview with the CEO of S.M. Entertainment that was set up by my best friend to help me achieve my dream. Actually, I never imagined that I would meet him at all, and I certainly never dreamed that he could be so rude as to ask, "Who are you looking at?"

Overwhelmed by an unprecedented blend of awe, embarrassment, and blind rage, I stuttered around an answer until he dismissively waved my babbling away. "Forget it. I don't have time for this."

Once I was away from him, I knew, I would think of a thousand ways to put him in his place. I wondered, what good is wit when it isn't quick when it counts? Quickly, I resolved to scramble to my feet and out of the building before matters could worsen. 

"Hey wait." 

I never would have admitted that my heart swelled with the rise of his voice because I assumed that he would apologize (for running into me and then for being so rude) and that I might be lucky enough to have one of those romantic first meetings that I learned about from Jane Austen and K-Dramas alike. 

But when I turned to face him, he stood tall, papers in hand, pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose, and ordered, "Bring me coffee and a cinnamon bagel from the kitchen; I'll be in Mr. Kim's office."

Had he not been staring right at me, I would have thought he was talking to somebody else.

Only when he turned around, started down the hallway, and freed me from his oppressive gaze did I find my voice. "No, I won't get your breakfast. First of all, it's well past noon, and second, I don't know where that is!"

Kyungsoo rounded again, his mouth slightly agape as if he assumed I was mute. His eyebrows knit together as he asked, "You don't know where the kitchen is? Or where Mr. Kim's office is?"

"Neither."

Unwilling to hear the explanation that this was my first (and likely only) time in the S.M. Building, and I wasn't here of my own choice, and-- above all-- I was not his servant, Kyungsoo demanded, "What good are you then? Does the help around here know anything these days?"

And just as I stormed toward him, dangerously close to succumbing to my temper's urging, Jongin appeared at Kyungsoo's side, locked eyes with me, and cheered, "There you are!"

Jongin would have had to be blind to miss how Kyungsoo and I glared at each other, each silently daring the other to say just one more word to justify our impending outburst. In what must have been an attempt to lighten the mood, he laughed, "I should have known you would run off to catch a glimpse of your bias."

I opened my mouth to rob Kyungsoo of the flattery by telling Jongin that I officially decided to change biases, but I was interrupted by Kyungsoo asking, "So you know this girl?"

Jongin joyfully thew an arm around my shoulders and, contrasting greatly against Kyungsoo's disgusted, disbelieving tone, cheerfully declared, "Oh yeah! Maisa has been my best friend forever. And you should get used to her, D.O., because she's gonna be the best songwriter in S.M.'s history!"

Jongin's boasting about me was never quite as humiliating as right then, when Kyungsoo simply rose his eyebrows and questioned, "She will?"

Don't misunderstand-- I wasn't offended because I was oozing with self-confidence or because I was so convinced that I was destined to be some composing legend. In fact, I had absolutely no confidence that Jongin's last-minute surprise interview would work to my advantage in the slightest. Had he not offended me from the moment our eyes met, I would have agreed that Kyungsoo's skepticism was supported by all rationality, but given the events of those past five minutes, I literally bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him for Jongin's sake. 

Without missing a beat, Jongin answered, "Definitely," and steered me back to Mr. Lee's office before I could bite through my tongue or say anything regrettable. 

Once I regained control of my thoughts, I started, "What a-- a--"

But I struggled to fathom an insult becoming of Kyungsoo. Finally, I settled on screaming, "Douche canoe!" with no concern for whether Kyungsoo, Soo-man Lee, or anyone else in the building heard. 

Jongin must have expected a tantrum, because he merely blinked and warned, "You shouldn't let Kyungsoo under your skin." He leaned against the wall beside the CEO's door, tried to nudge me out of my frustration, and claimed, "Seriously, Mai, he's just not one for first impressions--"

Although unamused, I laughed. "That has to be the biggest understatement ever. He isn't even half as pleasant as the most disagreeable character he's ever played--"

"Maisa!" Jongin interrupted. I only closed my mouth when I noticed his protruding pout. "We'll talk about Kyungsoo later because I know you're not gonna get over it any time soon. But for now, get in there and convince Mr. Lee that you belong in an office brainstorming lyrics, not locked away in the kitchens!"

I barely managed to quizzically repeat, "The kitchens?" before being shoved into the office. 

[arigatouiris]

out of my league // t.h — 14

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; pining; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: You guys are the best. Thank you for such kind comments, it’s made me happier than you could imagine. Thank you. So, this chapter is just tooth rotting fluff. And would you hate me if I said this was coming to an end soon? One more chapter and an epilogue left. Oops. xD

Also the writer mentioned here is fictional haha. 

Also, if you want me to add you to the series taglist, just drop a note or comment! ^^

Word count: 2970

Series Masterlist 

13 | 14 | 15

The script (y/n) was supposed to write was based off a series of three books, written by a writer who wasn’t too popular. As a matter of fact, (y/n) hadn’t ever heard of this writer—Theodore McLarsen, a strange name for a rather unheard of writer. When Harrison presented her with the books the next day, her heart leapt—it was finally and actually happening. For a moment, when he told her that she had to write a script for a show that Harrison was going to star in, it felt like a dream; a dream based off a conversation she had with Harrison. She called him that night and asked him repeatedly if he was just doing this to cheer her up. Harrison laughed and denied everything.

    “Wouldn’t this make you feel worse?” He asked, chuckling, over call.

    “I don’t know, the thought of it itself so...comforting.” (y/n) said, bashfully.

    “Look, (y/n),” Harrison’s tone turned serious. “Tom suggested your name because he knows you’re good. I won’t lie to you and he won’t appreciate me telling you this but he has read every single one of your reviews. He’s not saying that you’re going to write an awesome script without having any idea that you might. This is not a ‘might’ or ‘may’ situation, Tom’s sure. And you know what? So am I. I’ve spoken to you, I’ve heard your opinions, you’re a brilliant writer, you just don’t know it yourself. Stop doubting yourself, love. All of this had to happen so that you could get here. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but hear me out,”

    (y/n)’s heart leapt. “I am so proud of everything you’ve done and how far you’ve come.”

She would have broken down after what Harrison said, but she felt thankful. She didn’t want to cry, she wanted to show Harrison and Tom that they had faith in the right person.

    “Thank you, Haz. Thank you so much.”

    “Don’t thank me, thank the man you’re in love with.”

She knew from the tone that he was teasing. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

    “What kind of friend would I be if I did?”

(y/n) laughed, blushing.

    “When do you plan on telling my mate that you love him?”

    “Haz, I… I don’t think I will.”

    “I’m sorry, what?”

    “You heard me. He’s… He’s an actor! And I’m just—”

    “Please don’t give me this cliche he’s rich and I’m in rags tale, please. (y/n), for the love of life, can’t you see Tom feels the same?”

(y/n) froze. There was no way. Sure, they almost kissed but that was perhaps because she was feeling low and it was directed from her end.

    Or was it?

    “Harrison—”

    “It’s not my thing to let you know, love. Talk to Tom. But, if you tell me that you can’t tell him how you feel because he’s an actor, that’s not fair to him or to you. More so for him because if you’re in love with him, he deserves to know.”

Harrison was right. It was always the case—we always held the right to withhold our feelings from someone, but there was also another point of view. If you loved someone for who they are, for being their cheerful self, then you love them for them; and this meant that they deserved to know that they were loved. The reason we hold back from letting the person know is because there’s a lot of expectations preventing us from making a move. (y/n) told herself that she held no such expectation, but the thing about expectations was this: it’s the trickiest thing about being human. You had them, and you’d never know until someone lets them down.

    “Haz…” She didn’t have to tell him anything. Harrison knew his words had gone through.

    “Go at your own pace, (y/n). But, I’d advise you to tell him. He won’t know from me, you can trust me.”

    “Thank you. I’ll get to reading the books now.” (y/n) said, a happier smile rising on her face.

    “Good. Make me look good.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “You’re such a div.”

*

That afternoon, the director gave her a call. He wanted to speak to Tom and Harrison’s recommendation for a script writer himself, and was pleased that it was a woman who was writing.

    “Thank you for accepting in such short notice, though. Miss (l/n).”

    “No, please. Call me (y/n).” She said, rather confidently.

    “If I might ask, are you the critic who wrote the scandalous review for Birds of a Feather?”

It was like she did a turn at 180. Thinking back, if she hadn’t written that review, she wouldn’t be here, writing a script or attempting to. Meeting Tom and Harrison, befriending them, and now here—it was all possible because of that one review, the couple of weeks that turned her life upside down. Looking back, for some strange reason, she felt at ease; everything seemed to be falling into place, everything played a role in getting her here. Everything except Susannah.

    “Miss?”

    “I’m so sorry, yes. Yes. I wrote the review.” She said.

    “Good thing you did too, someone needed to tell Jean that he was messing things up. The fame gets to ‘im in the end, it’s sad.” The director grumbled.

(y/n) smiled. “Do you want a writing sample to evaluate—”

    “(y/n), of course not. There are writing samples of yours all over the internet. I like you and I want you to write the episodes. I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”

She counted the number of times she’d have to thank Tom for this. He wasn’t even here and he was changing her life, it was strange—this feeling that led her to believe she had known him all her life, it was a feeling that gave her a sense of familiarity with Tom that she didn’t share with anyone else. Just as the call ended, she breathed, before her eyes glanced over to the books on the table. She had just started reading them, feeling a tad bit ashamed for not knowing the writer before this, but was fully intending to make the most out of this experience.

    This was the first time she was reading for a job and was not criticising the work. It felt odd, but familiar, familiar from the years and years of hidden desires that wanted her to do this instead of criticize.

Picking up the book, (y/n) sat down, turning page after page, reacting to each and every line like a regular reader would, picturing the character as Harrison, learning the narrative, visualizing it, creating it in her head. She didn’t realize that hours flew by like seconds, she was transported to a world where only she existed and she wasn’t reading; she was watching it, with her eyes and mind, the sounds within capturing her attention like a bird’s near water. This was what she was meant to do, this finally made sense.

It took her five hours to finish the first book; and seven hours after to finish the second. It felt to her on several occasions that the writer was writing this for her, the writer was grasping her hand and leading her to a spot, letting her know that she wasn’t the only one who felt the confusion that the protagonist feels, there were other characters in the book who were developed perfectly, a touch of mystery, sorrow where it needed to be, and this made the happy moments all the more meaningful.

    Harrison would be perfect for this, she thought, wiping the tears off her eyes. She found herself typing a message for Tom, a long thank you message, revealing to him that she had finished reading the books and would start writing the script after a quick walk outside. London seemed welcoming in terms of its weather that day, and she wanted to make the most of it. It was a lazy Saturday morning, close to 11:30, and (y/n) had never felt as fresh.

Just as she sent the message and headed near the door, she heard a message beep. She stopped in her tracks and checked her own phone, but no message had come. She had just sent Tom a message, and just as the message was delivered, she heard the beep. She sent him another, a mere “Tom?” and she heard the beep again, gasping, as she stood in front of her door.

    Her hands shook as she reached forward to the door knob, opening the door slowly, and revealing him standing there, awkwardly.

It felt like deja vu.

    “Hi.” He said, pressing his lips together, and then breaking into a smile.

She felt like she would faint at that second if Tom hadn’t held her. She wanted to ask him a thousand things, she wanted to tell him she loved him, she wanted to tell him that she’s happier now, that the bad days are over and that he didn’t have to worry, but with that one hug, Tom learned everything.

    Pulling away, Tom stared at her, before noticing she was fully dressed.

    “Are you… Are you heading out?” He asked, his voice low.

She shook her head, “I was going to take a walk—”

    “I know this nice coffee shop.” Tom suggested, grinning cheekily.

(y/n) chuckled, feeling a tad bit nostalgic. “Let’s go to this nice coffee shop then.”

And she felt at home when Tom took her hand in his.

*

Just as they reached the coffee shop, the waitress froze. She looked at Tom, who was not covered in any disguise, which confused (y/n) (who tried taking her hand out of his grasp several times in order to avoid being caught, but Tom didn’t let go). Tom smiled widely at the waitress, almost as if they were long lost friends, and suggested she’d take them both to a table, away from the crowd. She nodded meekly, poor thing, and led them to the very same table they sat at, all those months ago.

    “You said—”

    “Ma’am, can you bring us a caramel latte, and an americano with no sugar, please?” Tom asked, politely.

(y/n)’s heart skipped a beat.

    “Tom,” She brought his attention toward her this time, his eyes falling on her, as he gazed at her like every girl wanted to be gazed at. “You said two months?”

    “I know. Shoot ended early. Thought I’d surprise you.” He said, reaching forward for her hand.

She blushed, “Tom—”

    “I have missed you.” He said, looking at her hand. “So much.”

    “Tom, I’ve missed you.”

He looked at her now, and she knew where this conversation was going. She knew it in her heart that she could not stop it, she had no strength to stop it, neither did she want to. She turned her hand to the back of her palm and entwined his fingers with hers; the least she could do now was welcome it, with wide open arms, as she drank her black coffee.

    “I’ve fought with myself for a while for this. I tried to resist it initially, because well, of who I am and I thought that everything an actor needed to do had to be this huge, extravagant thing—and that was pressuring me to lose sight of this, of this wonderful could-have-been. Everywhere I’ve gone, it was ‘Oh my god, it’s Tom Holland’ or ‘Bring it together for Tom Holland’ or something similar with a strangely massive amount of excitement, and it never was a simple wave of the hand and a hello or a hi with a smile I wanted to see on a face I wanted to be around. It has always been extravagant around me and I never, up until now, realized how much I missed the ordinary.”

(y/n) felt her heart sting at his words. She’d guessed it was hard being famous, but here was Tom Holland, more than famous. He had reached a point where he couldn’t even un-famous himself. Even if he tried.

    “We think ordinary is never enough, but God do I want it.” He squeezed her hand in his, and then looked at her. She smiled at him, her eyes turning small at the corners.

Tom’s heart leapt. It’s the Emilia Clarke smile, he thought, No, it’s the (y/n) (l/n) smile.

    “Some part of me wants to ruin this for you.” (y/n) whispered, chuckling.

    “Oh? How could you possibly—”

    “I love you so much, Tom Holland, I cannot believe I am actually saying this.”

Tom’s eyes widened, and he almost choked on air. Coughing a couple of times, he noticed from the corner of his eye how she was chuckling.

    “You’re right. This spoiled everything.” She laughed more.

    “I thought you were out of my league but—”

    “You’re seriously stupid sometimes, you know that?” He scolded her, his face a dark red.

She observed as he tried to fan himself, shuffling around in his seat. She wanted to ask him if he was okay, but she enjoyed the scene.

    “Um, do you want something to eat? It’s suddenly very, very hot in here.”

    “The air conditioning is just fine, though.”

    “I’m sweating.”

    “Have you never been confessed to before?”

Tom was quiet now, not meeting her gaze.

    “Thomas Stanley Holland.” She said his name, struggling not to laugh.

    “You know my whole name.” Tom couldn’t hide his wide shy smile.

    “You’re blushing ridiculously! Oh my God. It’s like High School—”

    “Thousands of girls I’ve never met in my life have told me they love me. Not to mention the thirst tweets—”

    “That doesn’t count.” (y/n) said, giggling.

    “(y/n),” Tom turned to her, his face still read. She watched, and wondered if he’d actually say it. A moment later, he turned away, and covered his face in his hands, groaning.

    “You ruined it—”

    “Tom, I’m in love with you.”

    “That’s not helping!”

(y/n) laughed, knowing his answer.

*

She took him to her house after the strange confession. Tom wasn’t even holding her hand, avoided talking to her, but his face was continuously red and he coughed at random moments. Simply to test if her suspicions were right, she grabbed his hand, causing him to jump, and felt how sweaty his palms were.

    “Ew.” She muttered.

Tom rubbed his hands on his jeans and coughed some more. Once they reached her house, (y/n) took off her jacket and continued to tease him. She placed her jacket on the stand and giggled to herself, talking about how shy Tom was and how flustered he had become.

    “It’s cute, though. I mean, I never took you for someone who—”

A moment later, time froze. Tom’s hands reached her face, his palm on either of her cheeks, and pressed his mouth to hers. Tom kissed her so deeply that for a moment, (y/n) didn't know who was breathing for who, but his mouth and tongue tasted like warm honey. (y/n) didn't know how long it lasted, but when he let go of her, she found that she was missing it already.

    “Who’s flustered now?” He asked, whispering.

Her face was a cherry pink now. Tom smiled, before letting out a slow breath.

    “Haz was right. You don’t need to know someone to like them. And (y/n), all I could do was love you. So I told myself I’d give in to it, to you, without trying to qualify or control anything. I’d surrender. I love you. I love every part of you, every thought and word... the entire complex, fascinating bundle of all the things you are. I want you with ten different kinds of need at once. I love all the seasons of you, the way you are now, the thought of how much more beautiful you'll be in the decades to come. I love you for being the answer to every question my heart could ask.”

And it seemed so easy, he thought. It seemed natural and right.

    “And you’re a fool to think you were out of my league, when from the start it had always been you.”

It was too strong a moment. Tom just simply continued to look at (y/n), whose eyes were glued to his form. She reached forward and touched his face, smiling warmly at him.

    He moved instinctively. (y/n)’s lips were soft against his, and a warmth enveloped him in a way he could not explain. He kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. He ran his fingers down her spine, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest.

The kiss obliterated every thought. For the first time in forever, Tom’s mind was locked into the present. There was no worry about fame, or the press, or saying the right thing or bad publicity. The worries of the day evaporated like a dew drop before the morning sun. His usual mode of hurrying from one thing to the next, constantly thinking about what could go wrong, his anxiety, his stress were all suspended, he had no wish for the kiss to end. Drunk on endorphins, his only desire was to touch her, to move his hands under her smooth summer layers and feel her perfect softness.

Within nanoseconds, the soft caress has become more firm, he savoured her lips and the quickening of her breath that matched his own. A kiss like this was a beginning, a promise of much more to come.

Love.

It didn’t feel scary at all.

series taglist:

@strangemaximoff​, @aestheticgaybish​, @noobmaster63​, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay​, @wonders-of-the-multiverse​, @boushalaivre​, @jackiehollanderr​, @nerdypisces160​, @yourwonderbelle​, @quackson606​, @stickyqueenbouquetsstuff​, @fandoms-stuff​, @danicarosaline​, @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo, @multiverseprincess @spider-mendes @jazzhandspotter @the-rad-mad @itsjlynadaxoxo

[benisasoftboi]

Some unorganised, stream-of-consciousness thoughts about the Golden Deer/Verdant Wind route, having just finished it for the first time:

Yes this took me three months I’ve been busy

Wish I’d done this for Blue Lions but I didn’t so oh well

Did make a list back then of questions I still had (never posted it), and basically all of them have now been answered except for the Edelgard ones (I’ll find out when I do Crimson Flower I guess - yes I still haven’t done it, I’ve been very busy, check back in another three months I guess) and also what happened to Dimitri’s eye 

So. Claude. I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel about him because characters of his general archetype can be really annoying to me. But I really liked him from pretty early on

He married Annette and it was cute

But as I think about it, there’s something I find kind of interesting about him, and it’s how relatively uninteresting he is compared to Edelgard and Dimitri

Edelgard and Dimitri are both deeply complex, flawed people. I could definitely understand someone not liking either or both of them. Their motivations, choices, actions, are all pretty questionable and often grey - they’re good, interesting characters, but not always the most likeable ones (for the record, I like Dimitri. Reserving judgement of Edelgard until I do her route) 

Claude, meanwhile? Claude’s primary motivation is to End Racism. He wants to achieve this by Being Nice To People. And somehow, this works

How do you hate that? You can’t hate that

It does, in hindsight, make his chapter in Azure Moon extremely funny, because the whole scene is just him talking about his vague goal to ‘achieve his dream’, and then he just pisses off. Like, mate, why are you being so coy? Your dream is Ending Racism. The worst thing Dimitri and I might think of that is that you’re being a bit overly idealistic

His other goal is to Solve Mysteries by being Nice and sometimes Harmlessly Sneaky. Again, not remotely unlikable 

Claude is, in this sense, the closest thing this game has to a more traditional Fire Emblem protagonist, and by extension, Golden Deer is also closer to a traditional Fire Emblem story

A nice, well-meaning, if not terribly deep Lord who wants peace and prosperity in his country is joined by a ragtag group of disparate, mostly simple, but generally likable characters. He and his crew fight some battles before all out war kicks off, where he fights a neighbouring country, with another neighbouring country sometimes involving itself as the plot demands. Just when it seems like the war’s all over though, it’s revealed that there’s actually a bigger problem at hand. A dragon is involved. Victory is achieved regardless

See?

Claude is probably smarter than most FE protags though. I don’t think he’d ever eat an unpeeled orange

Also, I do want to stress that Claude being a bit simpler than the other two isn’t a bad thing - like I say, I do really like him. And it works, seeing as his story is more lore based. Also, he’s hardly a flat character - I saw someone else put it that he’s just a character who already had his development before the story even began. I think that’s a fair assessment

I would like to know how TWSILD got so oddly high tech and if Claude and the others will adopt it. Or will this actually lead to an anti-technology backlash? 

Seriously, I can only compare Shambhala to walking into the Fifth Stratum of Etrian Odyssey for the first time 

I would actually kind of like to see a high tech Fire Emblem game. Something kind of like Devil Survivor 

Referencing allll the obscure DS games today! (and also pretending that I haven’t only ever played their remakes, shush)

For the sake of triadic structure, I’ll say that I’d also like to engage in Rune Factory-esque monster taming (that is to say, I want to be able to pet the demonic beasts and feed them home cooked meals until they become friends)

Please tell me the Death Knight is good in one of the Black Eagles routes. Please don’t actually tell me I don’t want spoilers.

It’s just in both of these two he’s been very... edgy and random, and that’s about it

He’d do well on the 2009 internet

Oh, also this was my Boyleth playthrough. I played him as 100% gay and had him marry Linhardt. Made all his interactions with Manuela very funny and even sadder than usual. It’s okay, I got her and Seteth together and they were cute

Felt really weird about it though because after accidentally getting them together in Blue Lions I’ve become a hardcore Linspar/Casphardt fan - they might even be my favourite pairing in the game. It’s definitely not because I strongly project onto them, I would never do that

Dimitri’s death was kind of badly handled imo. He shows up once, after being thought dead, then immediately dies for real off-screen. Then Dedue dramatically swears vengeance, and later shows up one more time to do ultimately very little

I let Dedue die :( 

Wouldn’t have happened if he’d been my dancer husband like I made him 

Annette was my dancer this time, purely because she really wanted to be in my Blue Lions run and I had felt so bad rejecting her offer. I recruited her specially for the task

I was really happy with pretty much all of the endings I got this time around - as yet unmentioned highlights include Dorothea/Petra, Ashe/Ingrid, Lorenz/Mercedes, and Flayn/Ferdinand (these all being pairings I didn’t get last time) 

I probably shouldn’t have laughed when I read that Leonie becomes a bit of an alcoholic in her ending with Alois

I put Caspar and Bernadetta together because their A support is cute but what the fuck is their ending

They enter an arranged marriage and then have tonnes of children that Caspar apparently can’t tell apart from his wife, what the actual-

WAS THIS MY PUNISHMENT FOR TAKING LINHARDT AWAY FROM HIM? I SWEAR I’LL NEVER BREAK THEM UP AGAIN, I PROMISE

Last time Ingrid got together with Seteth of all people. Not really relevant, just wanted to share. Was actually kind of wholesome

I wish endings were stored in the events logs

I’ll be doing Silver Snow next. In Golden Deer, I ill-advisedly made everyone into a Wyvern Rider, the quality of that as a decision for each character being:

100% Great: Claude, Hilda, Byleth, Leonie 

Actually Pretty Good: Ignatz, Raphael

Surprisingly Not Terrible: Marianne, Lysithea

Just Awful: Lorenz

For Silver Snow, I have equally silly plans. Watch this space

[bigbadredpanda]

Chapter 115: Family Feast 2

This chapter contains a sensitive scene in the first half. I swear the rest of the extra is all fluff.

Warning for sexual assault undertones: a non-graphic rape enactment happens, it is mostly talk and there is nothing explicit. If you prefer to skip that part, stop at “he approached the bed” and go directly to “I have something to show you first”.

Family Feast 1 / Family Feast 2 / Family Feast 3

Despite having said that, the two did not find at once the opportunity to "try" in that same evening as Lan Wangji had to first have a long heart-to-heart discussion with the long secluded Lan Xichen.

Wei Wuxian had developed a peculiar habit as of late. The sleeping position he liked best has become lying on Lan Wangji, either on his back on Lan Wangji's own reclined body or facing him on his stomach, nestled against his chest. In short, if he didn't have his oversized living pillow, he was completely unable to sleep. Giving free rein to his mischief, he ransacked the Jingshi and managed to overturn a number of objects.

From childhood, Lan Wangji would unfailingly handle matters in a proper and orderly way. The characters he practised writing, the paintings he drew, the essays he penned were all neatly and tidily categorised and sorted chronologically. Wei Wuxian started with his earliest calligraphy copybook, flipping over the pages with a smile. Lan Qiren's comments written in vermillion ink caused him so much glee that his teeth hurt from laughing. However, after having turned over several thousands of pages, he only succeeded in finding a single page of paper containing one wrongly-written character. Lan Wangji had then used the entirety of another page to scrupulously copy down the proper character a hundred times. Wei Wuxian was left speechless at this, "That's so pitiful, it's not even a character I recognise."

He was still browsing these old pages slightly yellowed by time when a lantern dimly lighted the obscurity outside the Jingshi.

Despite not hearing the sounds of footsteps, Wei Wuxian expertly plunged on Lan Wangji's bed with practiced ease and pulled the quilt over his head. As Lan Wangji gently pushed the door open and came in, he was greeted by the sight of a still form inside the room who was pretending to be sleeping soundly.

Seeing the other already "sleeping", Lan Wangji's already quiet movements became even more muted as if he held his very breath. He slowly closed the door of the Jingshi and after a momentary pause, he approached the bed.

Before he could reach it, the quilt was thrown right at his face, encasing him from the waist up.

Lan Wangji, "…"

Wei Wuxian pounced to clasp the blindfolded Lan Wangji in a tight grip. Pushing him down on the couch, he exclaimed, "Surprise attack! [1]"

Lan Wangji, "…"

Wei Wuxian's hands groped and tugged at his clothes but Lan Wangji remained motionless like a corpse, letting him have his way. Wei Wuxian soon lost interest and asked, "Hanguang-Jun, why aren't you resisting at all? If you stay still like that, what's the point of me ravishing you?"

Lan Wangji's voice sounded out muffled by the quilt, "What do you want me to do?"

Wei Wuxian patiently provided guidance, "I press you down and you push me away. You fight back and you struggle stubbornly to keep your legs closed while shouting for help…"

Lan Wangji interrupted, "It is forbidden to make a racket in the Cloud Recesses."

Wei Wuxian retorted, "Then you can whisper for help. I tear your clothes as well, you have to resist desperately and do all you can to protect your chest from being exposed."

No sound came from the quilt for a while.

Finally, Lan Wangji said, "It sounds laborious."

Wei Wuxian, "Laborious?!"

Lan Wangji, "Mmh."

Wei Wuxian, "Well, there's no helping it. How about we trade places and you ravish me…"

Before he could finish his sentence, his surroundings spun with the quilt flying off and he was the one being pressed down on the bed by Lan Wangji.

Having been forcibly wrapped in the quilt by Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji no longer bore his consistently pristine appearance. His topknot and forehead ribbon were slightly askew, his fine black hair was slightly in disarray with several strands coming loose and the formerly white as jade cheek was faintly tinged with pink. Under the light, he had the appearance of a bashful and nervous beauty. But what broke the illusion was the shockingly exceptional arm strength the beauty in question possessed which was like a steel vice. Thus restrained, Wei Wuxian pleaded, "Hanguang-Jun, great Hanguang-Jun, have some mercy."

Lan Wangji's gaze was unwavering. In his eyes, two lights burning brightly seemed to be flickering but his expression remained otherwise unruffled, "Fine."

Wei Wuxian, "What is fine? A handstand? Ravishing me? Hey! My clothes."

Lan Wangji, "You asked for it."

As he spoke, he pried open Wei Wuxian's legs to insert his body between them and pressed him down before stopping. Wei Wuxian kept waiting but there was no further movement, "What's wrong?"

Lan Wangji moved back slightly, "Why do you not resist?"

Wei Wuxian wrapped his legs around his waist to prevent him from rising. Leisurely rubbing against him, he chuckled, "Oh well, there's no helping it. As soon as you press me, I can't help spreading my legs for you, I can't keep them closed them at all. Where am I supposed to find the strength to resist? You call it laborious, it's also laborious for me… Well, let's stop, come on, I have something to show you first." He took out a sheet of paper from the folds of his clothes, "Lan Zhan, I have something to ask you. How could you make a mistake writing such a simple character? Weren't you paying attention in class? Or were you too busy thinking of something else all day?"

Lan Wangji glanced at the paper without saying a word but what he meant could be read clearly in his gaze: Wei Wuxian was the kind of person whose wild handwriting was barely legible [2] and who was quite adept at denying that his sloppy work was riddled with mistakes and yet he had the nerve to find fault with him for writing a single character wrong.

Wei Wuxian feigned not to understand the meaning in his eyes and continued, "Look, you have the date written, let me think… You were 15 or 16 at the time? To still make a mistake at this age, you…"

A flitting thought on the date inscribed made him realise that it coincided with the three months he spent studying in the Cloud Recesses.

Wei Wuxian was instantly filled with delight, he deliberately prodded, "Could it be that as a little boy Lan Er-Gege couldn't concentrate on what he wrote because he could only think of me instead?"

In those days when Wei Wuxian was made to copy in the Library Pavilion as a punishment, he would spend the day making all sorts of unreasonable scenes in front of Lan Wangji, rolling about, playing possum, disturbing him by every means possible, disrupting Lan Wangji's concentration and generally making thinking difficult. Lan Wangji nevertheless perseveringly bore the burden of both supervising his copying and attending to his own studies. Under the circumstances, writing only one character wrong was truly admirable.

Wei Wuxian said, "Hey, how is it my fault? Are you blaming me?"

"…" Lan Wangji stated in a tight voice, "It is your fault!"

He let out a troubled breath, he wanted to seize the incriminating paper staining his person. Wei Wuxian loved seeing his affected expression, he promptly stuffed the paper back into the depths of his clothes, concealing it against his chest, "Come and take it if you can."

Lan Wangji put his hands inside his clothes without the slightest hesitation. And left them there.

Wei Wuxian, "So you can indeed!"

The two of them made plenty of noise for a long part of the night. Midnight came before they could manage to speak a few proper sentences.

Wei Wuxian was still lying on Lan Wangji with his face nestled in the other's neck. The only thought passing through his mind was that the scent of sandalwood on Lan Wangji's body was even more fragrant. Languidness suffusing his entire body, he squinted, "Is your brother doing well?"

Lan Wangji embraced his bare body, hand repeatedly stroking the length of his back, "Not so well."

The two of them were drenched with sweat. The caresses produced a tickling sensation that Wei Wuxian felt course from his skin to the bottom of his heart. He twisted a bit uncomfortably and from below him Lan Wangji held him tighter.

Lan Wangji said softly, "During my years of seclusion, only Brother came to talk with me."

Now the situation was reversed.

Wei Wuxian no longer needed to ask what Lan Wangji was doing during his years of seclusion.

He laid a kiss on Lan Wangji's white as jade earlobe and pulled the quilt to cover them both.

In the early morning of the following day, Lan Wangji rose at 5 o'clock as per usual.

He and Wei Wuxian had been living together for several months during which Lan Wangji had strived to correct Wei Wuxian's sleeping pattern. However, it turned out to be a futile attempt. By the time the disciples brought the hot water for the bath, Lan Wangji had already been dressed properly long before. He extracted the stark naked figure of Wei Wuxian from the thin quilt and carried him in his arms to the bath. Wei Wuxian had the remarkable ability to soak in the water while remaining asleep. As Lan Wangji gently massaged him, he took Lan Wangji's hand to kiss the palm and the back of his hand and to nuzzle his face against it, still asleep. He let out a few annoyed groans during the massage and pulled Lan Wangji to him, eyes still closed. He cupped Lan Wangji's face and kissed his cheeks several times, mumbling unintelligibly, "Be a good boy, be quiet. Pretty please, I'll get up in a bit. Mmh."

After a yawn, he rested against the edge of the cask, still asleep.

Were the house to catch on fire, Wei Wuxian would most likely just find another place to keep on sleeping. Despite this, Lan Wangji persevered relentlessly every morning, starting to  call his name at 5 o'clock and withstanding composedly a barrage of small pecks peppering haphazardly his face.

Bringing breakfast to the Jingshi, Lan Wangji placed it on his writing desk where in the past there had solely ever been his brush, paper and ink-stone. Afterwards, he pulled out the still heavily sleeping Wei Wuxian from the bath, wiped him dry, put on his clothing and tied his sash. Lan Wangji then casually fetched a book, flipped it open to the pages containing a bookmark with a dried flower and sat at the table to read at leisure.

At precisely 9 o'clock, Wei Wuxian bolted upright as expected and sat on the bed. He fumbled drowsily out of bed and made a beeline for Lan Wangji, finding his way to his embrace and rubbing customarily his thigh. After washing his face clean at full speed, he was a bit more clear-headed and felt his way back to the writing desk. Wei Wuxian took several bites of an apple and then saw that the plates were piled high with food. As the corners of his mouth rose, he asked, "Isn't your Sect holding a family feast today? Isn't that a problem to eat so much beforehand?"

Lan Wangji calmly straightened out the headband and forehead ribbon Wei Wuxian had been fiddling with a moment ago and replied, "Eat your fill before."

Wei Wuxian had already had the pleasure of sampling the meals served in the Cloud Recesses: watery soup and insipid fare that were dominated by vegetarian dishes. Everything in sight was filled with various shades of green, there was tree bark, grass turfs and a profusion of medicinal ingredients. From all of the dishes emanated an ominously bitter smell tinged with a strange underlying sweetness. Were it not for this, Wei Wuxian would not have proposed to roast these two rabbits when they were younger. It was highly likely that the food served at their Sect’s family feast would leave much to be desired in terms of quantity and quality.

Wei Wuxian knew in his heart that the Gusu Lan Sect regarded these matters of the upmost importance. Letting him attend was tantamount to acknowledging his position as Lan Wangji's cultivation partner. Lan Wangji had to unremittingly wear Lan Qiren down while fighting for his merits. He sighed before putting on a smile, "Don't worry. I'll be on my best behaviour, I won't embarrass you."

Concerning the family feast, the one held in the Cloud Recesses was completely different from the other family feasts Wei Wuxian knew of.

The family feast of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect was held outdoors in the training grounds of Lotus Pier where a dozen long tables would be installed. Everyone, men and women, the older and the younger, all sat together with calls and shouts ringing out throughout the feast. The kitchen was also relocated outside, the blaze from a row of stoves rose high and the aroma wafted in the air. You could help yourself to whatever you wanted to eat and the food never seemed to be cooked quickly enough. Although he did not attend the family feast of the Lanling Jin Sect, their Sect was never stingy and spared no effort spreading far and wide the sumptuous details such as the performance of a sword-dancing master, jade corals in a wine pond, red brocades spread as far the eye can see and other astonishing sights.

Compared to this, the family feast held in the Cloud Recesses was both dull and plain.

The Gusu Lan Sect's teachings have always been dreadfully strict, do not speak when eating and stay silent. Even though the family feast had not officially began, none of the people attending uttered a single word apart from those entering the hall greeting respectfully the seniors in a low voice. There was hardly any talk, let alone cheerful banter. Wearing the same white clothes, the same rolling clouds patterned on white forehead ribbons, the same facial expression solemn to the point of appearing wooden, they seemed to all have come out from the same mould.

Beholding the "mourning clothes" filling the entire hall, Wei Wuxian pretended not to notice the astonished or hostile stares of other people. He complained inwardly, "They call it a family feast but a funeral is more lively than this."

Right at this moment, Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren entered the hall. Lan Wangji who was quietly seated at Wei Wuxian's side made a slight move in reaction.

Lan Qiren probably only needed a glance at Wei Wuxian to have a stroke and consequently he simply chose not to look at him at all, gazing fixedly ahead. Lan Xichen wore his habitual genial smiling expression like a cleansing spring breeze with the corners of his mouth carefully held. However, Wei Wuxian did not know if it was due to the seclusion or not but he thought that Zewu-Jun appeared considerably thinner.

After sitting down as head of the family, Lan Xichen spoke in a few sentences the conventional greetings and inaugurated the feast.

The first dish brought out was a soup.

It was customary for the Gusu Lan Sect to start meals with a soup. The container was an unadorned round cup in black eggshell pottery, small enough to fit in one's palm and smooth to the touch. Lifting the delicate lid to take a look, he discovered as he expected another heap of greenish vegetables, leaves, tree barks and grassroots.

A look was enough to make Wei Wuxian shudder a bit. Despite steeling himself earlier, he couldn't help closing his eyes and resting his head in his hand after drinking a spoonful.

After a moment, he recovered from the brutal attack that overwhelmed his sense of taste, elbows on the table barely keeping him upright. He thought, "…If the ancestor of the Lan family was indeed a Buddhist monk, he was an ascetic one for sure."

Wei Wuxian could not help reminiscing about the family feast held in the training grounds of Lotus Pier, the cauldron filled to the brim with lotus roots and pork ribs soup and the mouth-wateringly fragrant smells of the meat and lotus floating at the surface. All the neighbouring children drawn by the scent tried to climb the courtyard wall to catch a peep, saliva dripping. They all returned home wailing and shouting that they wanted to become disciples of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. In contrast, he did not know at this very moment who was more pitiable between his current self whose mouth was saturated with bitterly sweetness and Lan Wangji who was brought up eating that from childhood.

Seeing in the hall that all the Lan family members had finished drinking their soup without batting an eyelid, their movements and expressions effortlessly graceful with perfect composure, Wei Wuxian was embarrassed that he alone left his cup mostly untouched. Moreover, among the four thousand rules of the Lan Sect, wait, he did not know how many thousands there actually were now, he remembered several pertaining to table manners, for instance do not be picky about food and leave leftovers, do not eat more than three bowls. Although he felt that this kind of family rules was simply outrageous, he did not want to give Lan Qiren a reason to spurn him so quickly.

He was bracing himself for another spoonful of that foul medicinal soup but just as he raised his head, he unexpectedly discovered that the cup in front of him was already empty.

Wei Wuxian was stupefied.

He involuntarily picked up the delicate cup, thinking to himself, "I'm sure I only drank once? Did it leak from a hole at the bottom?"

But the top of the table was evidently clean, no soup had spilled.

Wei Wuxian looked sideways just at the moment Lan Wangji nonchalantly finished the last sip of his soup. He put back the lid on top and he used a snow-white napkin to lightly wipe the corners of his mouth, eyes downcast. 

But Wei Wuxian remembered distinctly that Lan Wangji had already finished his soup at an earlier time.

He also realised that Lan Wangji's part of the table seemed to be much closer to him than before the start of the feast as if he had discreetly shifted nearer.

Wei Wuxian, "…"

Raising an eyebrow, he mouthed silently towards Lan Wangji: Hanguang-Jun, you're pretty quick with your hands, huh?

Lan Wangji put down the napkin, glanced briefly aside at him before tranquilly gazing away.

Translator's notes

[1] The actual wording is 强奸 whose literal translation is 'rape'. Since the scene is supposed to come across as playful, I'm purposefully using the milder term 'surprise attack' here instead and afterwards the word 'ravish' which is more in line with their kink.

[2] Wei Wuxian's handwriting is 狂草 (kuángcǎo) which means 'wild cursive', it is a type of calligraphy with fast unbridled strokes which can be beautiful aesthetically but is is generally illegible (Example). In contrast, an earlier chapter mentions that Lan Wangji writes in 正楷 (zhèngkǎi) or regular script, the proper and tidy way of writing  (Example).

[bulsara-babe]

First We See The Stars (QUEEN friendship fic & some Roger Taylor x OC )

Summary: We all know what happened when one art major and three science majors met. They formed a band and produced an eruption of art and music to be remembered for generations. (Also: a bunch of rabid fans for life.) Now, how would have things fared if we add a business major into the mix?

NOTE: OWN CHARACTER (OC) who is developed and who has her own arcs, focus on friendship-- a self insert for ya’ll who wants to be friends with Queen, slow burn romance, Planned Arcs, series, eventually planned to be LONG (lots of chapters, I hope?) So I’ve been nursing this baby since before the fanfictions have come out and the only ones I’ve read were Maylor smut (in old tumblr and ancient Queen websites), and what spawned from months of accumulated ideas, and a 100k word document for NOTES, is this. I hope, I REALLY HOPE, you like it! Please, give me a chance!  (Reblog, Comment and Like? Or just read!)

Warning: cursing, suggestions of sexual intercourse

CHAPTER ONE TITLE: LOO

IF LOUISA WAS BEING HONEST, it was really all her fault. Her father was being nice by sending her on light errands, things he thought she could ‘handle’.

Bollocks.

Louisa pushed the plunger deep into the toilet bowl, as deep as the depths of her despair can get it and, with all her might, released.

The toilet water splashed straight into her face and she wailed in misery.

Of course, anyone thinking she couldn’t take on the big jobs for any reason is easily a detestable idea. She argued with her father for hours on end, and he gave in, finally giving her one of the more challenging tasks.

Her father, it turns out, had different ideas of what she meant by “the demanding jobs, the more adventurous ones, where I feel at least invigorated to move—these menial tasks are so dull and—”

She angrily threw ‘Lucifer’s stick’, which prompted more splashing, and, more shit on her face. Literally.

Louisa took a calm breath. She was a calm person, quiet in frustration and graceful in adversity, she was not like this. Not like this at all. But one look at the stick and the abolsutelydisgustinghumanshit that was on her face and she could do nothing but growl in the deepest contempt.

She picked up the stick again and wiped her sweaty face with her blouse.

This has got to be the lowest point in her life and it was just starting!

How could she have known her father’s definition of invigorating was running around to the orders of everyone and—and UNCLOGGING THE FREAKING LOO! A week in, and her father had her unclogging the loo. Life, huh?

If Louisa was being honest, she shouldn’t even be here. Ideally, she would have been far away, starting her budding business and showing off her brilliance. Or at least, she would have died trying.

But as life had it, her father was the “tour manager” (which she only knew existed now) to this band “Mott the Hopple” (haven’t heard of it, and honestly, wouldn’t want to). What she thought was a house she could stay in until she could start her business was actually a small van running around with a touring band.

Bollocks. BOLLOCKS. BOLLOCKS!

She flushed, plunged, flushed and plunged at the mark of the intuition she gained throughout the whole ordeal.

Louisa was wet, unprepared and fuming. But when that toilet bowl gave that deep, resounding, and dare she say, beautiful sound, she had never felt so happy in her life.

Perhaps, unclogging this ungodly bowl for the first time was an achievement she could be proud of?

Oh, HELL NO!

Louisa opened the stall and was grumbling at her own insanity.  There was still one more toilet and she was done. Finished. She’ll be enjoying both heaven and paradise in that pitiful van’s bathroom.

That was when she spotted a wide eyed blonde staring at her with surprise etched on her pretty face.

She stopped to acknowledge the blonde. “I think you’re in the wrong loo. Some gentleman forgot to flush the rest of himself when he left. What a piece of waste,” Louisa grumbled, grimacing at the quiet blond.

When she doesn’t seem to be responding, Louisa weakly waved her hand in dismissal, “Anyway, I’m obviously cleaning here. The women’s loo is at the other side.”

-

IF ROGER TAYLOR WAS BEING HONEST, he thought there was a couple doing the deed in stall number three. And he would have left, then and there, after he was relieved, of course.

But instead of the expected moaning and, ah, begging, he heard a couple of high-pitched shrieks of frustration (?), scandalized gasps here and there which he swear belongs to a (very angry) woman’s, and the livid call of “Lucifer’s stick”.

Maybe, maybe, the deed wasn’t going so well. And he should probably be leaving now, because even though this is the seventies and the world is wide and wild, he wouldn’t want to stay here enough to be called a voyeur, a peeping tom, deprived (he was not, he was… well supplied). Especially since the band’s been getting quite a bigger fan-base now that they’re touring with Mott the Hopple.

When he heard the consecutive flushing and splashing of water though, he began to doubt his initial thoughts.

What the devil is happening there? Lucifer’s stick? It isn’t what I thought it was?

He couldn’t stop himself. He peaked underneath and found one pair of feet in black and expensive looking sandals. Upon further inspection, he also found that the floor is wet.

Huh.

And then inside proclaimed, in a triumphant tone this time, “God heeds those who wield his sword! But this time it’s Lucifer’s STICK! AHAHAH!”

Roger heard the stall door opening and he whipped his body back, standing rigid just in time for the person to reveal herself.

She was wet. Literally. Her posh blouse and skirt were splashed everywhere with toilet water, and her brown hair was sticking to her face with sweat. Or something he didn’t want to think. On her left hand is—ah, this must be Lucifer’s stick.

Before he could speak, a teasing reference to her stick and all the grunting she did inside, she had beaten him and said:

“I think you’re in the wrong loo. Some gentleman forgot to flush the rest of himself when he left. What a piece of waste,” she grumbled and then looked at him for a long time; as if they were having a connection he couldn’t understand—wait, the WRONG LOO?! What the hell does she think—

Roger was ready to show her, that, no, he wasn’t in the wrong loo, in fact, he belongs here with his Lucifer’s stick—he might even show her if she wanted—

But then she had already dismissed him, leaving as she exhaustedly mutters, “Anyway, I’m obviously cleaning here. The women’s loo is at the other side.”

GOD FUCKING DAMN I—

--

Roger is not a man who gives up. In fact, he is a man who persists in the face of failure and even death. While he would have blown her off at that moment, he believed, and he truly believed this, that people, especially pretty women, deserved second chances.

And so he smiled it off.

“Miss, I think you’re mistaken.”

She stopped on her way to the stall at the end of the loo and turned back at him, surprised. “Oh! Is the loo on the other side unavailable? I’m pretty sure it was alright when I checked i—”

“No, s’alright. What I mean was,” Roger paused, the woman gave him an encouraging nod, “I have a Lucifer’s dick.”

“What—”

“I MEANT—I have a Lucifer’s stick as well!”

“You… want to help me clean the toilet?” she asked warily.

Roger would have slapped his face right at this moment if he weren’t too busy correcting himself, “No, what I meant by that was, I have a Lucifer’s—” Fuck it with the Lucifer metaphor! He let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m a man, alright?!”

It was embarrassing. It was already enough for men to catcall him in the streets or try to pick him up in the bar, but it was at least understandable because it was usually dark. This was in broad daylight, and while he was agonizing on the ways to bury this memory forever, the bird decided to chirp.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you just had a really raspy voice… um, mister…”

“Roger,” he grinned instead, “Roger Taylor.”

The woman smiled as much as one could when submerged in what seemed like toilet water, and then nodded, “I’m Louisa, uh, Louisa, um, Blanc,” she finished with furrowed eyebrows.

Roger ignored that look and sauntered towards her, “Let me help you out with that then.” As he was grabbing her plunger, Louisa tightened her grip on the stick and then smiled again. This time it looked forced.

“No, I’m alright Mr. Taylor, you don’t have to do anything.”

“Oh, but I do,” Roger successfully stole the plunger and headed straight for the last stall. Louisa followed.

“Really, Mr. Taylor, it’s alright. I implore you to stop.”

A plunge to the bowl.

“Roger. Call me Roger. I don’t want to sound like an old accountant.”

“Um, yes, Roger. Please stop, this is my job, Mr. Williams will get mad—”

“No he won’t. He won’t know.”

Another plunge. This seems to be harder than he thought. How did she get that beautiful sound from earlier?

Did he just call the sound of a toilet beautiful? This whole affair must be forgotten and buried on the ground after it is burned from the depths of his memory.

Really, if it were anyone, they’d be weeping in joy for someone as handsome as him to help them with their manual work. She just looked snappy.

Louisa began tapping her classy heels, having put her hair into a low ponytail to get out of the way. In hindsight, he should be wondering why a woman in clothes like those was even here bothering with the toilets. Usually, she’d be the one ordering others to do the work.

Such is the world.

When Roger failed yet again, after many plunges, to submerge the damn faeces, Louisa began to walk forward.

“You should pour the bucket of water—” Roger took the bucket and poured it as she said, “NO! It should be at this angle!” And then stopped midway when she grabbed the bucket from him.

“Why don’t you just let me work this out on my own? You should be glad I’m helping you—”

“Well I’m not, okay, Mr. Taylor?” She snapped, “Let me do this.”

When he didn’t move, Louisa slowly released a breath. If he hadn’t interfered, she would have been in heaven right now. But he just so decided to be a knight in shining sneakers (he was wearing a pink glittery one) and wasted her time.

She decided that, if she wanted this done, she had to fight for it.

And so she did.

--

Louisa forcibly took back her Lucifer’s stick and pushed him out of the way, feeling a little bad, but ultimately not caring because she was already suffering from the beginning.

He was just in a bad place at the wrong time.

“Hey! You don’t have to be such a bitch!”

“Well you don’t have to be such a wanker!”

Roger glared at her, oh she was getting it. She. Was. Getting. It.

First she calls him a woman and then she pushes him after his valiant offer? What a woman!

Roger took the plunge and submerged it and then released, as fast as he could while blocking the angry woman. He then took the bucket of water, and poured it all on the toilet. For extra measure, he even pushed the lever down a few times.

And it gave that beautiful sound.

Only.

The water never receded.

In fact.

It was getting higher and higher.

As Louisa was getting up, her skirt wetter than ever, and her dignity as low as a rat on the sewers, she heard a rumbling sound that promised hell instead of heaven.

She pushed him away and hissed, “What did you do?!”

Roger was getting paler by the second. He looked at Louisa and squeaked in that infuriating voice, “I think I overdid it a notch.” He turned to the toilet and stared at the rumbling bowl before he stared at Louisa who was twitching in indefinite anger, “You know, this certain characteristic of mine exceeds that of the toilet and straight into the bedr—”

Before he could finish his last words, and before Louisa could punch the first man she would ever take pleasure in punching, the toilet bowl gave its last grumble and shot out everything they had been trying to contain.

The dirty (“Shit!”) water spewed out everywhere. The ceiling was dripping with water and the floor was slowly being flooded.

Roger and Lou stared at each other in wide-eyed panic.

They had to stop this or else the tour manager will have their heads!

Roger’s share from the concert would be deducted and he can’t have that!

“Okay! We just have to stop this— WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?!”

Roger was taking the water head on; he ducked under the toilet tank near the floor and was looking for something. When he couldn’t find it, he stood up and hastily removed the toilet tank lid, putting his hand somewhere inside the tank and immediately ending the overflowing water. But the spraying water was still jetting everywhere.

“Here, hold this! Don’t let go until I say so.” Louisa warily approached Roger, sidestepping the direction the water was gushing towards.

“And what… are you going to do?!”

“This.”

He ducked again, soaking the entirety of his bell bottoms, and turned a knob that nestled behind a tight spot between the wall and the toilet.

It took him a few minutes before the water finally stopped. By this time, both of them were already dripping wet—Louisa’s designer blouse and skirt, and Roger’s blue button-up shirt and bell bottoms— with the water three inches deep into their shoes.

Louisa almost cried.

Roger whistled.

“What…”

“This was an adventure.”

From behind Roger, a growl of deep primal resentment resounded, and it only gave him a few seconds before Louisa, the mad woman, starting slapping him with her hand.

“WHAT. DID. YOU. DO. YOU. BASTARD! I worked so hard in cleaning the whole bathroom—I had to endure three men taking the loo while I was a few feet from them and I had to clean the god forsaken toilet from stall three—” Much slapping, Lou took a deep breath, on the verge of crying but not quite, “AND YOU COME IN HERE, THINKING ‘Oh what a GENTLEMAN I MUST BE TO HELP THIS WOMAN’ who NEVER NEEDED YOUR HELP—TELL ME, what did you think would come out of this?!”

Louisa collapsed on a pile of misery, thinking where her life might have gone wrong when Roger tapped her shoulder. She glared at him from the floor.

“Look, I’m sorry alright? I was only trying to help, geez. It was you who forced my hand—and, before you say anything else, I really think we should clean up first.”

“Yeah, I’ll be cleaning up alright.” She stood up and made to grab the nearest mop.

“No, I meant, we have to clean ourselves up. I have somewhere to go and a lot of things to do, some of whom you might be acquainted with, but I won’t be leaving you here.”

Louisa squinted at him, “Are you suggesting I leave this hellhole as it is?” Roger nodded, “You’re mad! Mr. Williams will have my head, and it might not look like it right now but want to live. And if you want to live as well, you’ll help me, because by God, I’m telling on you.”

Roger groaned and dismissed her, annoyed, “I have people who owe me. They could help.”

--

Wet and miserable. That was how Roger and Louisa exited the loo at the middle of the hallway.

Louisa put a sign that said, “Out of Order” before trudging behind Roger.

People were giving them looks. Not just looks, they were grinning and snickering and God-forbid thinking something else that shouldn’t be thought of between her and this man.

Before she could ask, scandalized, Roger stopped in front of a lazy looking man who was letting a puff of smoke out.

“Ratty.”

The man named Ratty turned from his trance and looked at them through his shades, “Wot.”

“Remember Jessica? The one a few concerts ago, with the red dress and the black hair?”

Ratty grinned, almost dreamily, “Yeah,” then he paused as if reliving a sweet memory from yesterday, “Best I’ve ever shagged. Thanks to you.”

Roger grinned. Louisa’s face contorted in disgust. She grabbed Roger and whispered angrily, “What the heck are you trying to do? Are you trying to sell me to this man? Who do you thin—”

The blond bimbo just condescendingly stared at her and put his arms up, “Just. Let me handle this.”

“Well, you see Ratty, I had a certain accident earlier with this, uh,” he looked sideways at Louisa who was impatiently stomping her foot, “lovely woman,” he nervously looked back at Ratty, smiled and said, “and I’d love it if you cleaned it up for me.”

“Oh sure, sure. What is it? A dangerous affair? A cat fight? Would I be breaking up with you girl Jill—”

“No, no, no, no, no. God, no. What I meant was,” he was saying this a lot today, “literally cleaning. Can you clean the men’s loo at the hallway? The one with the sign. Please? I have to get her somewhere to get cleaned.”

“Alright man! I can do it. Just, when you have someone as good as, or even better than Jessica, you know who to call.”

Roger grinned and then nodded. He then watched Ratty walk towards the hell zone. Louisa was snapping behind him.

“And where do you intend to get me cleaned? I barely know this area and I can’t go back to my place looking like this. My father will get mad!”

Roger took one sufferable sigh before nodding to the direction of his hotel room.

—

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@bburellina