#pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain!

[essektheylyss]

wip wednesday post, with a bit of the next tiefling fic chapter, because I've been working on some original stuff this week and I'm not sharing that haha:

Fjord picks up a few of the sheets, examining each of them in turn. Essek watches his furrowed brow as he looks from each to each, and leans his chin on a hand. “How is it that you are familiar with runes? You have told me you have no formal education on the subject, yet Jester has said you know them well.”

“Ah,” Fjord says, and places a pair of slim reading glasses on the bridge of his nose, and his brow smoothes a bit as he squints less at the forms. “That is an excellent question.”

“What do you mean, ‘an excellent question’?” Essek asks, bemused, and Fjord’s grin is dangerously crooked.

“Well, I only know what I need to know,” Fjord says. “Much like how Jester has been taught magic by the Traveler.”

“But you do not speak with the Wildmother.”

“I do sometimes speak with the Wildmother.”

“And she gives you rune lessons?”

Fjord laughs brightly. “No, nothing of the sort. Generally she gives me reassurances, but that is rare. I talk to her more than she talks to me directly.”

Essek watches him, amused, as he takes another sip of iced tea. “And yet you have still not answered the question.”

“When you end up unwittingly in a demigod’s employ, you are far more useful to said demigod if you are able to defend yourself, in whatever ways it sees fit to bestow upon you. Those spells entailed a decent amount of runework, and somehow I would simply, ah, come to know their methods of casting. Like I had performed them in a dream, and carried the knowledge over to waking.”

It is both a tremendously cryptic and simultaneously elegant way of explaining. “And to think I endured years of study, only to come to you with questions,” he smiles around the rim of his glass.

“I am also relying on the expertise of entities who have been sealed away from the Material Plane for four hundred years, if not since the Divergence,” Fjord laughs. “My understanding of runes is a bit dated, but it is certainly useful for such things as mysterious rituals in ancient ruins.”

(also if you want to read the first 8 chapters of this, you can do so here!)

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Me writing this Xegdin fic:

[echolitmag]

Welcome writers! Allow me to introduce you to our new horror short story contest, "Do Not Disturb". It is open to all writers who at or between 13 and 19 years of age, and the winner will receive a $200 prize, absolutely no strings or blood curses attached!

To learn more, please visit our website at: echolitmag.com/shortstorycontest. Enter freely and of your own will--if you like making money!

[hollowflay-arc]

i tend not to really think "oh this character needs a ship" but heather is one of the few where that's a slot i'm actively interested in filling at some point really exclusively bc she's so fucked up and it explores an interesting rarely seen side of her. but also it's gotta be done in like, a Specific Way bc well she's sooooo fucked up that if you come at it wrong it'll blow up like immediately lol.

[qdrew]

Just some notes in regards to the chapter I’m currently finishing, chapter 10. You can sort of get a glimpse of the daily chaos I live with when there are notes about work, house, summer holiday, and Spanish review mixed up in me working through some fanfic stuff.

[magnetoisoccasionallyright]

Ah timetravel, so much fun to watch, such a struggle to write. Do I actually need time travel for my Magneto Was Right DoFP AU? Thematically, yes. But also writing timetravel means I have to figure out how to deal with a perpetual third wheel timetraveler lurking around while I try to have Cherik interact. Which is not what I anticipated as the biggest problem when planning a timetravel fic, but it is turning out to be the biggest problem.

[frestoniia]

▹ u ever just. sit there in awe at how talented some of ur mutuals are

[dreameasel]

while gomez debate is Real the real struggle is finding fcs for pubert (who I’m making a little blonde psychopath) and grandmama is the REAL struggle

[kiliinstinct]

Yes! Hello,

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve? 👀

Weird Questions For Writers Cause Writers Are Weird

---

Pfft, I'll be honest. In Fanfics, I have not "killed my darlings." And in my original works. I also have not. But that's not because I avoid it, oh no, that's just because I haven't written to that point yet. There are many planned graveplots in my original stuff, but it hasn't happened yet, so my grieving is on standby.

This is ignoring any plans I may have for fics in the future. shhh

[dduane]

Do you have any recommendations on what to do when you can’t write?

I’ve been struggling to write for years, but telling stories is all I want to do. I have ideas and plots and characters all figured out! But actually getting the words onto paper? I just can’t do it. There’s a mental block or something getting in the way.

I want to write, I so badly do. I want to tell my stories! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love the story, the words never work properly. I can day dream scenes up perfectly, but as soon as I’m near paper the words all vanish.

I guess what I’m actually asking is: how did you defeat the blank page?

Well, first of all, I can confidently tell you that your storytelling per se is working just fine. You just told me a perfectly cogent story right there, in writing. So that's good to know.

Now let me put your mind a little at rest by telling you something reassuring about the Writer's Brain:

It's not the sharpest knife in the block, if you take my meaning. It can be tricked. It can be fooled. It can be bamboozled into working when it doesn't want to... sometimes with embarrassing ease. (And this approach is, by and large, far preferable to sitting around over-analyzing one's interior life to figure out what went wrong with your developmental process somewhere in the dim lost past. Just hornswoggle the silly thing into working and then do the analysis later, if you can be bothered.)

Sometimes just changing something basic in the process the Writer's Brain is expecting is enough to make it lose the plot (so to speak...) and let you get on with work. And in your case I'd say, more or less immediately: Have you tried telling the story to yourself out loud, recording it, and then transcribing the recording?

Because this problem is a commonplace among storytellers. Sit them down in the pub and give them tea or a drink and start them going, and you'll get half an effortless hour of hilarious prose about What The Cat Did In The Middle Of The Night or When The Neighbors Were Fighting In The Street Again Yesterday. But show them blank paper, or an empty screen, and (now that the pressure to perform is suddenly in place) they freeze.

So try doing an end run around your writing brain. Borrow or otherwise procure a little recorder of some kind. (Or if you've got a smartphone, add a voice recording app to it.) Go get comfortable somewhere and get yourself into that daydream state, and then—making sure the recorder's on—start talking.

It doesn't have to be perfect unblemished prose. The pursuit of that comes later, after draft zero-minus-one. Just tell the story... or some of it. Or a fragment of it. Even a few paragraphs is a triumph, in a situation like this. You may, during the recording, have to talk yourself into the story stage by starting out talking about something else first. Let that happen.

Then when you're done recording, listen to it and transcribe it (typed or handwritten, as you please).

And maybe a day later, do this again. And a day or two later, once more. And so forth.

You're going to have to keep at this, because your Writer's Brain may start suspecting what you're up to, and try throwing spanners into the works. (Its favorite being "Oh, this isn't working, I may as well give up..." Pay no attention to that nagging little voice behind the curtain. Just keep doing what you're doing. Persistence is a superpower.)

The thing to keep reminding yourself, as you settle into this process, is that sooner or later the WB's resistance is going to flag, because you really do want to tell stories. It does too. What you have to teach it is that—to coin a phrase—resistance is useless. :)

Anyway: give this a try. You'll need to be doing this daily for at least a couple of months to find out whether it works or not. So let me know how it goes.

(BTW: once you've broken through the barrier, you may well find that dictation is a good routine way for you to generate your first draft. At that point—should you feel inclined to go a little higher-tech than recording and hand transcription—let me recommend Dragon Anywhere. This is a month-to-month subscription version of Dragon's flagship text to speech program—the one @petermorwood and I got Terry Pratchett to use when he started having difficulty typing. I use Anywhere a lot, on days when it's easier to write stretched out or lying down than it is sitting up. It transcribes what you say, and then you can just email it to yourself and cut-and-paste it into your writing document. Very handy.)

Hope this helps!

[tangibletechnomancy]

The AI Boom and the Mechanical Turk

A hidden, overworked man operating a painting, chess-playing robot, generated with the model Dreamlike Diffusion on Simple Stable, ~4 hours Created under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

In 1770, an inventor named Wolfgang von Kempelen created a machine that astounded the world, a device that prompted all new understanding of what human engineering could produce: the Automaton Chess Player, also known as the Mechanical Turk. Not only could it play a strong game of chess against a human opponent, playing against and defeating many challengers including statesmen such as Benjamin Franklin and Napoleon Bonaparte, it could also complete a knight's tour, a puzzle where one must use a knight to visit each square on the board exactly once. It was a marvel of mechanical engineering, able to not only choose its moves, but move the pieces itself with its mechanical hands.

It was also a giant hoax.

What it was: genuinely a marvel of mechanical engineering, an impressively designed puppet that was able to manipulate pieces on a chessboard.

What it wasn't: an automaton of any kind, let alone one that could understand chess well enough to play at a human grandmaster's level. Instead, the puppet was manipulated by a human chess grandmaster hidden inside the stage setup.

So, here and now, in 2023, we have writers and actors on a drawn-out and much needed strike, in part because production companies are trying to "replace their labor with AI".

How is this relevant to the Mechanical Turk, you ask?

Because just like back then, what's being proposed is, at best, a massive exaggeration of how the proposed labor shift could feasibly work. Just as we had the technology then to create an elaborate puppet to move chess pieces, but not to make it choose its moves for itself or move autonomously, we have the technology now to help people flesh out their ideas faster than ever before, using different skill sets - but we DON'T have the ability to make the basic idea generation, the coherent outlining, nor the editing nearly as autonomous as the companies promising this future claim.

What AI models can do: Various things from expanding upon ideas given to them using various mathematical parameters and descriptions, keywords, and/or guide images of various kinds, to operating semi-autonomously as fictional characters, when properly directed and maintained (e.g., Neuro-sama).

What they can't do: Conceive an entire coherent movie or TV show and write a passable script - let alone scripts for an entire show - from start to finish without human involvement, generate images with a true complete lack of human involvement, act fully autonomously as characters, or...do MOST of the things such companies are trying to attribute to "AI (+unimportant nameless human we GUESS)", for that matter.

The distinction may sound small, but it is a critical one: the point behind this modern Mechanical Turk scam, after all, is that it allegedly eliminates human involvement, and thus the need to pay human employees, right...?

But it doesn't. It only enables companies to shift the labor to a hidden, even more underpaid sector, and even argue that they DESERVE to be paid so little once found out because "okay okay so it's not TOTALLY autonomous but the robot IS the one REALLY doing all the important work we swear!!"

It's all smoke and mirrors. A lie. A Mechanical Turk. Wrangling these algorithms into creating something truly professionally presentable - not just as a cash-grab gimmick that will be forgotten as soon as the novelty wears off - DOES require creativity and skill. It IS a time-consuming labor. It, like so many other uses of digital tools in creative spaces (e.g., VFX), needs to be recognized as such, for the protection of all parties involved, whether their role in the creative process is manual or tool-assisted.

So please, DO pay attention to the men behind the curtain.

[sporkandpringles]

Star Trek Writers: pay no attention to the man behind the curtain The man behind the curtain: Hey does anyone remember when Vorta could yeet purple energy balls with their minds?

[aliypop]

Rockin Tonight

Word Count: 2,098

Writers Note: A 50's Elvis smut lord have Mercy

Warning: SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Pairing: OC x Elvis

Plot: After a few months of touring, Cecelia and Elvis decide to fool around a bit ... With their music that is, but when a few secrets about Cecelia get out, well let's just say there's a whole lotta shakin going on.

Taglist: If you wanna be tagged let me know!

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

Nashville Tennessee. 1955

"And right over here is the kitchen. It's the one area we don't have help in." Cecelia smiled as she gave Elvis and his group a tour of her family mansion. They'd all just returned from a tour with each other. When Cecelia decided why not have everyone relax in Valmos manor. After all, her parents were on tour pretending to be in love for appearances, and Midge was here, so clearly nothing could go,

"And over here is... Wait, where's Scotty and Rosa..."

"If you gotta ask, you don't wanna know," Daphane responded.

Wrong, Or at least so she'd hoped nothing would. Cecelia only had one thing on her mind to impress.

"Presley... you okay?" Midge asked as Cecelia looked over at him.

"I just ain't never seen so many awards on one wall..." he looked in amazement. Midge had gestured to Cecelia to come over, seeing as she froze. Cecelia hadn't had the best luck with her emotions. She could say it in a song. Cecelia could even write it out. She could pretend to be charming so she wouldn't go completely mute around him, 

But when you're standing next to Elvis, who was ogling at your parent's success. Well, that becomes too much to handle.

"You know my mama played this record repeatedly."

"Well, it's a classic." Cecelia sighed. 

"It sure is... Say, is it true you have a music room?"

"Mhmm, It's right upstairs." Cecelia smiled, leading towards the grand staircase.

 Midge was walking behind the two as Cecelia glared at her. The older woman gave her a nod, shaking her head, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"Midge shouted as Cecelia nearly cringed into herself. 

"That ain't much..." Daphane mumbled to her aunt.

The upstairs of the mansion had velvet curtains hung on the window and fancy gold wallpaper with gold trim around it on the walls. It was almost something like a castle, but Elvis wasn't paying much attention to it. Not when his view was Cecelia in a pink halter top polka dot dress that he wanted to get under her petticoat skirt and-

"Elvis..." Their hands nearly brushed against each other, and a spark almost set off between them.

"Yes, mama." he winked. Cecelia had hoped her cheeks weren't as red as the velvet curtains. 

"Welcome to paradise."

"I'm lookin right at it..." he mumbled, 

"At what?"

"T-Th-T-The uh music room, yeah." 

There were guitars. A grand piano, a harp, a tambourine, and anything else you could think of was in this room. The masterpiece was Cecelia, with her leg crossed on top of her White Falcon Gretsch. Picking a Gibson Guitar off the wall, Elvis sat not too far from Cecelia, who was stealing a glance at his fingerwork. She hadn't thought much of it when they were on stage performing, but it was different when she could see how concentrated he was and how fast his long, nimble fingers were strumming away on the fret. And the way his Thumb was picking on the string only made her curious mind wonder what his fingers could do. After all, Rosa did tell her the best man to cure that pleasurable itch in bed was a man who was good with his fingers. And boy, was he proving it. With every lick, her body would shiver, and with every chord. She'd squeeze her legs tighter. Any friction would keep her from fantasizing about having him play her like a guitar.

"If you bite your lip any harder, honey. It might bleed..."

"H-huh..." Trying to keep a straight face as she looked at those tantalizing blue eyes of his, Elvis knew what was going on in that head of hers. It wasn't like out of the many girls he'd been with. She was the name he'd call out when he was alone, picturing her pretty fingers around his-

"Nothing, doll..." he got closer as she looked down at the floor. His hand lightly brushed against her thigh, and he was sure he heard her draw back a moan, 

"Question..."

"P-Possible answer."

"Do I make you nervous or somethin..." he whispered in her ear.

"Why do you say that? Am I acting nervous..." Cecelia asked, trying to laugh it off, 

"A little... And I think I know why." he laughed. Cecelia hoped he didn't know why, 

"Why's that..."

"You wanna pluck me all night long, don'tcha..." 

"I-I..."

"Aye, don't fret about it, mama..." Elvis kept going as Cecelia turned red, his hands creeping up the hem of her dress.

"I've never really. Uh, done it!" She panicked as the room around got silent. She couldn't take the teasing anymore. 

"You mean you've never even fooled around with..."

"I've done that... many times.. thinking about you..." it slipped out. Oh, how embarrassed she was that she just admitted that.

"an what do you think of when you think of me." Elvis kissed her neck softly as she bit her lip. He should've known Cecelia was a virgin. It all made the dots connect as he thought about how she acted toward him when they shared a bed, 

"Elvis... I-It's dirty stuff ..."

"You can tell me. I won't judge, doll." he kissed her cheek, "In fact, before we go any further, I wanna know something."

"What's that..."

"Were you savin it for a special gentleman..."

Cecelia's brown eyes were starting to get lustful just by the question, 

"Yes..."

"Do I know this special gentleman..." 

Cecelia's skin began to heat up as she leaned in closer toward him, his curly cowlick driving her insane, 

"You do..."

"Does he deserve to have you..."

"You do..." Elvis was taken aback by her answer as Cecelia was lost in his love-shot blue eyes. There had been many girls who wanted him to take their virginity, but this one, Cecelia, was special. 

"Can I ask you something..."

"Mhmm..."

"May I have you?"

"Yes, please, make me Crescendo into a fortissimo ." she kissed him passionately, her fingers in his hair.

 "Where do you want me..." he asked, already panting from the kiss, 

"Everywhere..."

"I meant, where do ya wanna do it, doll..."

"My bedroom, third door down."

Cecelia's room was a soft pink with hints of lavender and silk bedding. It looked like something from the movies. With her vanity and lamp next to it, he had thought he was in Rita Hayworth's room until he closed the door. "See, someone's been practin..." He smirked, looking at the lipstick-stained poster of him on her door. Cecelia had felt embarrassed. But Elvis thought it was cute. After all, he did have a few posters of her in his room that he hid from Gladys, or so he thought. 

"I wouldn't call that much of anything..." she pinned him to the wall and kissed him again. This time, with a bit more wanting and need, Elvis had his hands on her hips, fiddling with the zipper on the back of her dress. He could smell Cecelia's expensive perfume on her skin, and those late-night thoughts started creeping back up. The ones where he was carrying her to bed with their lips still connected in a kiss as spark-filed like a Texas firework show, and where he'd lay her on the bed slowly tossing her petticoat over, as he'd kiss up her thighs. Removing her nylon stockings from their garters and he'd look at her and say,

"You sure this is what you want, darlin."

"Yes..." she looked at him, thinking about how she'd unbuckle his belt. And throw that tantalizing lace button-up shirt off him, and how she'd pull him closer to her as he'd kiss her neck, leaving love bites, and she'd say, "Elvis... I need you to..." she gasped, feeling his hands creep up her thigh. 

"Need me too what, angel..." he leaned into her ear, whispering as he bit on her ear lobe,

"Treat me like a guitar..."

"Treat ya like a guitar?"

"Yes, finger me all night long..."

"I'm gonna do more than that," he smirked, kissing down her collarbone as he rubbed a circle near her covered clit, feeling just how wet she was from her panties alone. A shudder went through her body from the sensation alone as a small mewl left her mouth. This was different from when she did it. 

"I know you think about me at night..." Elvis smirked, tossing her panties to the side as he slid in his first finger, sliding it slowly back out of her as she closed her eyes, biting her lips, 

"EL-"

"I know you think about me havin my way with you like this, huh." he plunged his finger back in, curling it towards her spot.

"Vis..." she moaned softly, "Give me more..." she breathed out as he chuckled. 

"Gotta say please, darlin."

"Please give me more." 

"That's more like it."He added another finger as she hissed a bit at the stretch, "Breathe, mama, breathe." he smiled, hearing her take a deep breath. His fingers were working magic as his thumb was rubbing on her clit. Much like how he was strumming a guitar, he was playing every note, and her moans were a symphony. A newly written song he could have played on repeat. 

                "Elvis! fuck... "

"Shit.... shit... shit..."

                 "Ah...oh...." 

"I think you're all warmed up for the main event." He dropped off his underwear as Cecelia's eyes went wide, she'd imagine that he was good in size, but from what she saw he was gifted by the Gods, and she wanted a taste, to touch even, 

"This is all about you tonight," he smiled as she nodded,

"You got a rubber right..."

"Of course."

"Is it up to date?"

"Cece, really..."

Hey, you have a reputation for broken rubbers and E.R. visits." she laughed a little as he rolled his eyes at her.

"Yet I'm your Romeo." he kissed down her neck.

"Mhmm..." she groaned, "Oddly so."

"Well, Juliet, baby, hold on tight." entering her overtly wet cavern, slowly and carefully not tearing anything. He could see Cecelia's eyes closed shut, her nose scrunched up, 

"I won't move til you say for me to."

"Does it usually hurt..." she asked, holding his hand,

"A little, but the pain goes away the more you do it." he teased as she looked up at him, flustered.

 "I-If you continue to do it!"

"If it's with you." she winked, "You can move now," she told him. His thrusts were slow and steady, and his groans were as soft as thunder in her ear. 

"Elvis, yes..."

"How's that feelin' for ya."

"It feels good..." she moaned, and their eyes met. As Elvis's hand caressed her cheek, he realized that the love of his life was right under him, telling him, 

"More..."

"You sure, baby, you think you can take all of me?"

"Mhmm..."

"Eager little kitten, huh." pushing more of his cock deeper into her, she could feel him brush against the spot. that was driving her crazy. Elvis had her. All he had to do was think strategically. 

"O-Oh... Oh... yes, right there, don't stop!!" she was gripping his body, her pink nails digging into the skin of his back, 

"You like that?"

"Faster, baby, faster!" his hips nearly gyrating as if he were on stage, but it was sending her to every ounce of heaven that a human could possibly give her. "Cece...Fuck... shit...I love you..." 

Cecelia's heart began to beat, and she wasn't sure if it was because of what he had just said or if she was reaching her end. Legs trembling as he was now nearly pounding into her, his thrust sloppy and her hands trying to find anything to grab, curses and skin slapping had been all that anyone could hear but Cecelia didn't care she was on cloud nine in the arms of a man she loved dearly. 

Elvis had disposed of the rubber and Cecelia was trying to walk again as she was waddling around like Bambi, 

"Is that normal..." Elvis caught her as he held her close,

"Only if I done my job right." he kissed her cheek, "Now let's get you all cleaned up."

Walking down the stairs, Midge, Daphane, and Scotty were a bit surprised at the discovery that had been bestowed upon them, 

"What were you two up there doing..."

"Uh swing dancing," Cecelia said,

"Must've been swingin real hard..." Scotty said under his breath as Elvis and Cecelia blushed hard.

"So are you two gonna swing again..." Rosa asked as Cecelia glared at her.

"Depends if she's got another lesson."

[randomlyexisting]

He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed

Aemond Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon

Band/singer Au

————————————————————————-

Aemond is the guitarist / second voice of a band, that he works sweat, blood , and tears , with no single help from his father. Everything seems to go great but then life gives him an obstacle in the road to his success ,the lead singer and drummer, quits leaving them with a huge problem since they have gigs booked.

Aemond’s band mates go behind his back and offer the spot to the person he’s been pretending didn’t exist.

After dealing with a nasty breakup and finally winning the inner battle with his fear , Jace finds himself writing and his dream of an artist rise from the ashes.

Jace needs to prove to the record label he got what it takes to be a singer and not just a song writer, so he accepts the offer that might make his life a living hell for next months.

Or

Jace and Aemond are forced to be in a band together to get what they want while trying to ignore each other. Aemond best friends wants to know what’s that thick tension between their friend and the newbie. Cregan just wants to play the drums without having to fear of said guitarist killing him in his sleep.

———————————————————————

Jace bare feet taps against Aemond’s naked back , meanwhile Aemond played his guitar, as he worked on a song. He’d sprung up from Jace arms out of nowhere, exclaiming he was struck with inspiration , he explained on seeing his alarmed face at the sudden outburst.

Jace watched silently, not wanting to interrupt. He knows how one can get in the zone—well he used to—blocking everything and everyone.

Before everything flipped upside down. The accident. The unsaid goodbyes. Jace can still feel his father light touch under his chin, if he closes his eyes.

Feeling his throat clog with emotions, Jace pushes all the bad memories away and focused on Aemond. Who is a pretty sight. Why ruin a good day.

The curtains were opened, making the sunlight peek through the windows giving Aemond a glow around the crown of his silver hair. Made him look like a Greek God.

Taking Jace breath away.

His hand came up to push his own hair away from his face and laid his arms out like a starfish. Aemond mumbling incoherently , distracted with his song.

Jace shoves Aemond forward with his foot, wanting his attention back to him. He gave him enough time to jot down everything. A chuckleeaves his mouth when Aemond body lurches forward with the push.

“Sorry.” Aemond turns , giving him his side profile ,humming a tune under his breath. His mind far away. Still distracted.

Aemond being bathed in the golden sunlight, a song rang in Jace head. His uncle is attractive. Even when they were children, Jace always thought Aemond was cute , grumpy, but still cute. He also thought Helaena was pretty, still is.Aegon didn’t fall behind either

It reminded him of the countless of edits that Baela and Rhaena sends him with the same song stitched to it.

An idea , like a lightbulb above his head appeared. Jace smiled, still feeling giddy even if Aemond wasn’t paying attention to him. He knows how to get the attention he wants.

Clearing his throat , drops his feet and leans his upper body, resting his weight on his elbows.

“Dear Lord , when I go to heaven, please let me bring my man,” Jace sings, grabbing Aemond attention. He continues to sing as Aemond rise from his spot to face him. “When he comes, tell me that you'll let him in

Father, tell me if you can”

Aemond beams , making Jace heart stutter. His brown eyes roam Aemond body, but his eyes flickered back to the necklace that had a guitar pick that rested on Aemond chest.

A guitar pick that had words engrave in High Valyrian . A gift Aemond promise to wear it always close to his heart.

Jace moves to sit up to his knees, making a dramatic show of pointing with his hand the next verse to an amused Aemond,

“All that grace, all that body

All that face makes me wanna party

He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds”.

Jace is happy with himself when Aemond blushes.

Aemond plants a sweet kiss to his lips making him whine when he pulls away.Aemond has this look that Jace already knows what he’s going to say.

“You sing beautiful.” It wasn’t Jace first time singing. He stopped after the incident. It had seem that the Gods gifted their family in singing. His mother, Daemon, and his grand sire. Luke sang like an angel . Joffrey was getting there. But Jace stopped. He’d grown a fear to sing but recently his love for music changed along with his feelings for his uncle. His views were changing. But not that fast.

He can sing with Aemond but he couldn’t sing to anyone else. Jace brushes off the compliment that will only lead to an argument.

“Jace.” Aemond sighs, already trying to bring up the topic. He’s not ready. He will never be ready.

“Sing me a song?” Jace demands , jutting his bottom lip. It was only fair to hear Aemond vocals.

Aemond lets it rest in peace, already use to it, he adjust the guitar , fingers hover over the strings ready to play . “What song?”

“I wanna be yours.” Jace falls back and returns to his position of a star fish. He love this bed, it smells like Aemond. Jace wants to steal a pillow. And keep it forever.

“The one Rhaenyra always humming too?” Aemond ask , his hands already positing in the right place.

“Yeah.” Jace nods, and chuckles when Aemond dramatically clears out his throat.

“I wanna be deep in you as the Pacific Ocean” Aemond sings the lyric wrong, with a smirk pulling the corner of his lip.Jace shoots him a unimpressed look, making Aemond laugh.

“I wanna be yoooooooours.” Aemond stretches the word longer than necessary making Jace break into a fit of giggles. Aemond following along.

“You only know that part” Jace shakes his head amused by his boyfriend humor.

“Yeah.” Aemond sheepishly admits, puts the guitar to its rightful place and walks back to the bed. Jace shrieks when Aemond jumps on bed, landing on top of him . Aemond huffs as he maneuver Jace legs over his hip, with no help of the pillow princess and support his weight on his arms to not to squish Jace with his weight.

Aemond worried that later Jace’s face will hurt with how hard and big he was smiling.

He, himself, felt the ache, his face muscle twitching with his own smile .

“Write a song about me so you won’t forget about me when your famous.” Jace whispers , tugging at the necklace that dangled across his face. He played absently with guitar pick .

“I’ll write you a millions of song .” I will never forget you. Aemond seals the promise with a long deep kiss that take their breath away.

“ I just died in your arms tonight,” Aemond begin to sing, his deep velvet voice vibrates through Jace chest, Aemond leaned down to give Jace another kiss .

His arm reaches to push Jace’s hair away and runs his calloused fingers to his brow, cheek, jaw and all the way to the red swollen lips.

Aemond place his finger on Jace puffy lips and snorts when Jace playfully bites his thumb. It felt ridiculous being this joyful just by simply being in each others presence. He felt like a kid given a bag full of candy.

“It must've been some kind of kiss” Jace wiggles his eyebrows before he pulls him down for one more kiss.

Aemond can feel Jace smile throughout the kiss.

He wants to cling to this moment. Where everything is perfect. Where nothing can come and ruin his happiness. Aemond desperately clings to it.

They will find a way to keep their relationship on the low. It’s hard when their always in the public eye, their whole family is, and people were constantly waiting for them to slip up and to broadcast it to the whole world.

If the media find out, it would force them to make a choice that it would leave them with the bitterness aftermath and a broken heart that they won’t be able to fix with missing pieces or with any melody. Aemond hopes, prays that it never happens.

——————————————————————

[Time Jump]

“Thought you’d never overcome your stage freight .” Aemond smiles but there’s nothing friendly about it. Neither his tone of voice, hint of mockery but Jace wasn’t here to fight. Even if it was easier than to have a simple conversation.

It use to be. It seemed ages ago when they could communicate with only their eyes and body. Now they’re strangers ready to attack in fear they’d find a weakness to use against each other.

“Neither did I. I had people help me.” Jace had to remind himself that he needed to play nice . So he claps his hand behind him to hide how hard his fingernails dig into his palms.

It’s not sharp enough, his nails bitten down short in moments of nervousness.

“Cregan?” Aemond scowls , pushes his weight off the wall he leant against to move closer. Have never wanted his help, not even when he offered it with his heart. What was so special about the guy?

“Couldn’t just live in fear for the rest of my life, right?.” Jace lifts his shoulder, schooling his face expression the most he can.

Jace didn’t bother clarifying his real relationship with Cregan ; they were simply friends, brothers.Aemond doesn’t need to know what goes on or not in his life. This was all business after all.

Aemond seem unfazed by the vague answer and didn’t press on that subject. Small part of Jace felt disappointed. It seem he could care less even if he’d been throwing daggers with his eye ever since he met the drummer. If looks could kill, Jace would’ve been in Cregans’s funeral. Guess Jace made that up his mind.

“I don’t let fear control me.”Aemond squared his shoulders, as if readying for a fight. Jace wanted to laugh in his face at the lie he’d tried to feed him.

“I know you don’t want me to join the band. I think everyone noticed with your so called interview.” Jace scoffs, he could still feel the warmth of embarrassment creeping up from yesterday that Aemond cruelly made him go through.

Jace eye flicker down to Aemond neck , the simple gold chain mocked him , the guitar picked gone. He probably threw to the trash.

“I’m glad then, it will make it easy for them to deliver the news to you and your drummer today.”Aemond sharp grins hurts but doesn’t hurt Jace as much as the words that he said.

“I’m not gonna let my future go down in flames just so you could feel good about yourself.” Aemond looms over Jace, using their height difference to his gain. His sharp jaw was clenched hard, radiating pain from his teeth to his temple.

Aemond wants Jace to cower, lower his head in fear but Jace tips his chin higher, not breaking eye contact with him. Anger swim in the brown orbs that used to swirl with false tenderness directed to him. A broken part of him, misses it, even if it was fake.

Can Jace say the same thing about his eye. Can he see how cold and cruel his blue eye is now. Not a trace of the young teenager that would do anything for him just for a small amount of affection in return.

“I’ll sing for your band for now and once you guys find a replacement and I sign my contract with the label , we won’t have to see each other again. “ Jace takes a step back, desperately wanting space between them, he lets his arms fall back to his sides. It feels like defeat.

Aemond halts in moving closer, there was no need for them to be close, even with their hearts empty their bodies pulled to each other like magnets.

“It’s only temporary.”

“Temporary, huh”Aemond scoffs in disgust. the damn word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “We both know how that works.” Jace hides his flinch at his uncle cruel reminder.

Jace breaks first and looks away. Wanting to hide how his eyes betray him and chin wobbles. Aemond keeps staring, now the side profile where the long brown curls grab his attention.

His hands move before he can think and reaches to tug on it gently. The movement make Jace turn to face him again making his finger touch Jace upper cheek.

In moments of weakness Aemond cups his face and lets his thumb trace the soft skin. He was still beautiful, still his beautiful Jace. Jace can’t help but lean to the touch that his heart engrave yet his skin regretfully forgotten how it felt.

“Band meeting!”

Jace and Aemond jump away from each other immediately. Jace is the first to leave. Aemond shoves his burning hand into the pocket of jacket where the damned pick burned a hole into his palm.

—————————————————-

Soooooo, I been listening to Lana del Rey a lot since HOTD , and this au just magically appeared. Hope it’s not that bad to read or too cringey, I typed as quick as I could to post this.

How hot would it be , Aemond playing the guitar , Jace and Aemond singing songs to throw indirects at each other , the sexual tension just building up with each show, Aemond writing songs about Jace and vise versa , 🤌🤌 , but I can’t write so I gave you this shitty piece lol.

There’s obviously a time jump in between the two parts I written. Idk why they broke up, but it tore their souls apart to end the relationship, but they still love each other lol.

I had to add Lana Del Rey and Arctic Monkeys somehow. So enjoy I guess🙃🤷‍♀️.

[whatanybodygets]

II'm wondering how you originally wanted to pack the Adagio into a lot fewer chapters? According to the original idea, it should already have ended somewhere? I apologize if the question is not very tactful? 😶

And thank you for writing and sharing, I really enjoy every chapter.

Anon, why are you calling me out this way 😅🤣

Nothing at all about the story has actually changed, this is entirely down to my inability to plan or accurately predict how many words it's going to take me to do something (see: roomy, and drenched in sunlight having a 5k opening chapter and a 28k final chapter). I originally thought Adagio would be five chapters, realised almost immediately this wouldn't be the case, and revised the outline to ten chapters and was pretty happy with this until now.

I don't like to feel I am rushing, either, so the chapter count has gone up again. I'm off my outline with the most recent two chapters because I felt like I needed more words for certain things. I'm still worried that it feels rushed to get to this point, but then as my beta pointed out to me, I've taken 80k words to get them to the point of admitting they like each other. So. Other opinions may differ!

Being honest, I think the chapter count might go up again by one or two, because now that I am in the middle of writing it, I feel like I need more build up into the secondary arc of the story. How I ever thought I was going to do this in five chapters is beyond me 😅

All this to say, I'm just an extremely chaotic writer and I'm bad at planning. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!