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mlove44lh · 1 year

Text

For a lifetime part I - En/USA Version

part II here

warnings: +18. Childhood friends to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, original character.

Words: 9.033

Summary: Lewis and Angie met in their childhood and after a short time they were already inseparable, the relationship escalated and soon they became more than friends. But life happened to both and they ended up following different paths. Nine years later they meet again. Is all that love really gone?

Notes: English is not my first language. I did my best with the translation, but I know there are going to be many mistakes in the writing.

I decided to translate this fanfiction because I'm completely in love with these two, and I want this story to reach more people. Comments are always welcome. Hope you like it.

Some events are out of chronological order.

June 2002

-Mom, please, I can study at home. I promise to do better on the next tests. -I try one last time to convince her that I do not need this class. But I realize it will be in vain as I look at his usual impassive frown.

-No. None of that, I promised your father that you would take at least one class, and he paid a lot of money for that. Don't belittle your father like that, Angie. -My mom looked straight ahead cautiously on the road, even when there weren't any cars but her old Bentley. I still looked at her with the slightest bit of hope.

-Please, he'll never know I didn't come.

She looked at me in disbelief.

-No, but I'll know. Now come on, I don't have all day, I'm already late.

-All this because of a C. -I said to myself as I finally got out of the car.

-You can complain to your father tonight if you want, but I did my part. -I watched as she accelerated and left the parking lot, I thought about leaving, going to the park that I saw from the passenger seat a few blocks away, and spending the next three and a half hours doing nothing, but I was already there, and the heat was almost unbearable, so I decided to go inside and watch the review lesson I don't need.

Barely 30 minutes had passed and I couldn't take it anymore, I took minimal notes and tirelessly looked at the clock in search of redemption. I was looking outside the building when I heard the door being open.

-I'm so sorry teacher, I lost the track of time, I was racing and when I saw it, it was already two o'clock, please forgive me. -The boy was out of breath, putting words on top of words and begging for the teacher's forgiveness, it was almost impossible not to find the situation funny. The teacher in turn didn't give a damn, asked the boy to calm down, and invited him to sit down and pay attention in class.

The boy came towards me and for a moment I thought he was going to talk to me, but he just waved and sat down on the bench next to me, which was the only empty one in the room. The rest of the class passed in absolute silence, except for the teacher's voice and the sound of birds outside. From time to time I felt the boy restless, writing down unneeded things and trying to look at my notes. His nervousness started to make me nervous too.

-For the love of God, calm down. After class, I can help you with your notes, but please be quiet. You're making me nervous.

The boy smiled shyly at me, I could see the small gap between his front teeth and I thought it was adorable, he seemed like a nice person.

The class ended and as promised, I explained the content he had missed and helped him with his notes.

-You don't seem to have any difficulty with this topic. -He said as he finished writing. There was no one else in the room, the class had already ended at least 15 minutes ago. I know my mom is waiting for me in the parking lot but I don't mind keeping her waiting while I talk to him.

-I don't. My father is very strict with my education. I got a C in literature and he decided I needed tutoring.

-Oh, I see. Not a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon, but at least you're smart.

-Are you kidding? I love this place. I begged him to put me in this class, I couldn't think of a better way to spend my Saturday. - I say jokingly. Our laughter echoed through the room. -And you? Do you also like to spend your Saturdays in a tutoring class?

-Nah. I came because I had to, I'm not showing up to classes as I should, so they made me come. But I won't need that. -He gestures to his notebook. -My father and I are working hard for me to be a formula 1 driver someday.

-And how is this going? -There was no superiority in his speech, only hope and excitement.

-Very good. -His smile was gigantic. -Very well indeed. I can't wait to finish high school and race all over the world.

-Great. hope everything works out for you...-I gestured for him to tell me his name, which only then I realized I still didn't know.

-Lewis Hamilton.

-Lewis Hamilton. - I repeated to myself. -Nice to meet you. I'm Angie Woods.

November 2002

I could barely keep still, I was so excited, finally, I would see him racing in person.

I was in front of my house, waiting for the car that would come to pick me up. Lewis told me that his father would come by at 10 am to pick me up from home and then we would drive to the circuit where the last race of the karting season was taking place, where Lewis was doing exceptionally well.

Since we met months ago, we haven't let go of each other, Lewis ended up becoming a great friend to me, we see each other almost every day and he had already promised me that he would take me to a race a long time ago.

During these months of friendship, Lewis teaches me everything about Formula 1 and motorsport. I fell in love with the sport, we haven't lost a race since.

It didn't take me long to see the car coming to the entrance of my house, I ran inside and hoped my parents didn't see it, they had already made their displeasure with my new friendship clear. So I decided not to tell where I was going that morning.

I met his father, his stepmother, and his brother, Nicholas. Everyone welcomed me more than well, and in a short time I already felt almost like part of their family.

❀

I was almost voiceless from cheering for Lewis. His family and I were in the front row of the audience watching Lewis' every move. He was exceptional as a driver, even with older drivers on the grid and with a not-so-good car, he stood out a lot. I could then understand that there was no understatement in his father's speech when he said that Lewis would become a great Formula 1 champion. It was just a matter of time.

I was behind his family when he got out of the car, Lewis ran to his father and stepmother and hugged them, he had won another race, consequently becoming the best driver in his category, and the youngest to achieve this accomplishment. After hugging his family, Lewis jogged to me, I was close to being emotional, I was so happy for him. I hugged him back and we stayed like that for a good few seconds, his arms made me feel like I'd never felt in my life.

After the race we went to his house, it was getting dark but none of us wanted the day to be over. Lewis's father ordered pizza and we all ate together. Anthony, his father, told me all about Lewis's passion for motorsport and all the difficulties they had faced so far. I paid attention to every word and could only imagine the difficulties they had.

Anthony insisted on dropping me off at my place, it was already dark and the night was much colder than usual, so I made no objections, thanked him for the day, and said goodbye to his family.

Before leaving, Lewis ran down the stairs to me, I was ready to go meet his father, who was already waiting for me outside the house.

-Wait a second. I bought you something.

Lewis handed me a box, I opened it and found a delicate golden necklace, it had a pendant of a small "A". It was beautiful, I almost didn't react because I didn't expect such a gesture from him.

-I saw it in a store and I couldn't leave without buying it for you. There was silver too but I like your skin better with gold.

Lewis looked at me shyly, just like he looked at me in the first conversation we had months ago.

-It's beautiful, Lew. Thank you so much, I loved it. -I took the necklace out of the box and give it to him to put on me.

I pulled my hair up and waited for him to put the necklace on me, his hand passing lightly over my neck managed to make my skin shiver, I hoped that it had gone unnoticed by him. As soon as he closed the necklace I turned forward and hugged him.

-I'll never take it off. -I said low, in the middle of the hug, just for him to hear, as if we weren't alone in the room.

-I'm glad you liked it.

I pulled away from the hug and kissed his cheek, close enough to his mouth to make me blush with embarrassment, I said goodbye with a low "see you later" and left the house, going to meet his father, who was already waiting for me inside the car.

I walked away from his house seeing Lewis at the door watching as the car pulled away.

February 2003

-Lewis, this is not going to work. I better give up. Anyway, you can be my personal driver. -I said pulling the handbrake and turning off the car.

-None of that, come on, I said I was going to teach you how to drive and that's what we're going to do today.

-I changed my mind, I'm going to cancel the test. Look, I'm shaking and I haven't even walked 20 meters. -I was actually shaking, seeing people driving makes it look easy but in reality, it is far from it.

-Angie. -Lewis took his hand from his lap and placed it on top of mine, which was resting on the gearshift of his dad's Chevrolet. Physical contact with us is nothing new, and I can no longer imagine my life without his friendship. -Calm down, you'll make it, I'll teach you how to drive and you'll pass this test.

I sighed in defeat, I want that so much, and I have to take advantage of Lewis' free time and his kindness to teach me.

I started the car and released the handbrake.

-You know what to do. Step on the clutch and engage first gear. -I thanked the universe for Lewis being the calmest person I know, if it was any of my parents here I would already be crying. I did as he said. -Now release the clutch and accelerate slowly.

-That's the problem, Lew.

-Come on, after a while, this will be automatic for you.

I started to drive the car and this time it was better than the last, little by little I gained confidence and saw that it wasn't such a big deal. By the end of the day, I was able to stay calm and drive a few miles without freaking out.

❀

I thanked her for the ride and jumped out of my mother's car, barely able to contain my smile. I run to the front door of the house that became my second home, rang the bell, and waited patiently until the door opened. Luckily it was Lewis on the other side of the door.

-So? How it was? Did you pass? - His eyes were bigger than usual and he looked at me with a lot of curiosity.

I tried to keep my face serious for some suspense but I couldn't hold it for a second.

-Yes! Officially qualified. -I showed him my newest driver's license. Lewis pulled me into a long hug. -Thanks Lew, I couldn't have done it without you.

-Yes, you would. I knew you would do fine. -He pulled away from the hug and looked at me with affection. -Now I have someone to take me to the next race.

October 2003

-Are you sure I can go to this party?

Our hands were intertwined, which is new, but I have nothing to complain about it.

-Of course Ang, it's a party of a friend from school but it's not exclusive to those who study there, relax.

I could already hear the loud music coming from the house at the end of the street, I didn't know if I was shivering from the cold or anxiety. Maybe I shouldn't have chosen such a short dress for an evening party. It's my first time at a party this big, and Lewis looks as relaxed as ever.

-Angie, I can hear your thoughts from here. -Lewis chuckled and squeezed his hand in mine. -It's just a party, and if you don't like it, we can leave whenever you want, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And I will always be around.

-Okay then. -Lewis is the only person who can calm me down with so little.

We entered the house, which was already full, and Lewis soon found his friends from school. He introduced me to everyone and I didn't take long to make friends, which was good, I didn't wanna hang around Lewis all night without letting him have fun with his friends. There was a lot of booze and I had one or two, I've been drinking alcohol for a while now, so I wasn't even close to drunk. Lewis came to check on me from time to time.

After some time talking and drinking I went up to the second floor to use the bathroom. The floor was empty, with all the doors closed except for one at the end of the hall. I thought I heard Lewis's voice coming from there so I went to the door and opened it all the way to enter. He was there, it was a room without any furniture, Lewis was leaning against the balcony, with his phone on his ear.

-Okay. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything at home. Alright, see you Sunday then dad. Bye.

Lewis hung up the phone and turned into the room, he didn't look surprised to see me standing by the door.

-Is everything okay?

I asked as I entered the room for good, I pushed the door but it didn't close completely. Lewis called me over and I went to him. He wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled me closer.

-Yes. My dad, Linda, and Nicholas are going to Linda's parent's house for the weekend so I have the whole house to myself now.

-That’s good. -My head was leaning on his chest and I had my eyes closed. Lewis's hand came to my chin and lifted my face, placing it just inches from his. Lewis sealed our lips calmly, and it didn't take long to deepen the kiss. It's not the first time that this happened, we've kissed before, but never like this. This time it's like there's something behind it like it's for real this time. And it's really, really good.

Soon I wrapped my arms around his neck and Lewis placed his hands on my waist, giving the area a light squeeze.

We kissed for a long time, and when I opened my eyes, I had to get used to the clarity coming from the street again.

Lewis hugged me and I felt like I could stay there forever.

-Are you going to crash at my place today?

I froze in his arms and hoped he hadn't noticed. I've slept over at Lewis's several times before, but I know what this question means right now. I know that Lewis has had some experience before, and I also know that I want to have my first time with him. But even though, it's impossible not to feel nervous.

-You know that nothing will happen if you are not 100% prepared for it, Angie.

-I know.

-And we don't even need to do anything, I just think you should sleep there because you told your parents you'd sleep at Annie's today and if you get home at one in the morning they won't like it one bit.

I smiled at his concern and nodded, still hugging him.

-It’s okay. I do want to sleep there anyway.

After that conversation we were absorbed in something else, so we didn't take much longer to leave the party.

Lewis' house was just a few blocks away, so we walked back together. We exchanged a few words now and then but I was too anxious to have any type of conversation.

❀

Lewis is lying next to me. I am nervous. I'm not naive, I know what's about to happen, we've talked about it before and I feel ready. But as much as I'm nervous I'm also very sure about it. I feel safe and desired by his side. I feel that now is the time and I don't want to wait for another second. But even though, I think fear is normal.

-Are you okay? -Lewis was leaning on his arm, facing me.

I was laying down, looking up. I nodded and moved my head to see him, he was very close to me. The room was dark but the moonlight outside was more than enough for me to see it perfectly. He looked beautiful, traces of the agitated evening at the party were on his skin that glowed even in the slightest light, he looked happy, he didn't seem to want to be anywhere else.

Lewis approached and sealed our lips very calmly. It didn't take long for me to try to deepen the kiss, which was immediately consented with a small laugh from him. Kissing has become my favorite thing to do with him, not that I have a lot of experience but his kiss is amazing.

The kiss was getting deeper and deeper, I was restless, searching for more, Lewis on the other hand was completely calm, and in no hurry at all. Eventually and finally his hand that wasn't supporting his head left his lap and found my waist, squeezing the place and bringing me closer to him, then moving down and going to my ass, where he stayed for a few moments.

I was hot, and I could feel my heart beating in my throat, I was nervous but more than right about my decision. I felt my intimacy hot and wet, I wanted him to touch me but I didn't know how I could ask for that. He was kissing me like never before, there was something else there that had never been explored inside of me.

-Angie. -Lewis cut the kiss and left his lips millimeters from mine, he was a little breathless and I think as nervous as I was. I looked at him and waited for the continuation, I wanted him to speak soon because I wanted to go back to kiss him. -Can I touch you?

My heart jumped, what I wanted was finally going to happen, and with the right person, the person who showed me what love is when I didn't even know it was possible to feel that kind of thing. I nodded at him.

- Honey, I need to hear you say.

-Yes Lewis. Please touch me

He didn't take long to put his hands between my legs, always very calmly and carefully. My dress was short so it had already gone up and the fabric rested on my belly. Lewis put my panties aside and I was exposed to him.

-Let me know if you want me to stop, okay?

-Okay.

Lewis touched me, it was like an electric current went through my whole body, I didn't know I wanted that contact so much until I had it. Both I and Lewis sighed. I leaned in and brought our lips together again. Now the kiss was awkward and almost disjointed, as our attentions were somewhere else. I wanted to be able to touch him too, but I could barely think about how I would do it. I had to keep myself from moaning and begging him to go faster. Lewis fingered my clit patiently, even with me rubbing in his hand he kept the same rhythm. I could feel him smiling during the kiss.

Lewis trailed his kisses to my neck, then to my collarbone, his hand still on me.

-I want to see all of you. -He said very close to my ear, which caused me more shivers than I thought it was possible.

-Please do. -I wanted to give him what he wanted, I wanted him to see me, kiss me, and tell me how beautiful I look to him.

Lewis then took his hand away from me, I moaned complaining and he laughed.

-Calm down darling. I'll be back to give you what you want.

Lewis pulled my dress up and I helped him to take it off, he watched me for a few seconds, I wasn't wearing a bra so I ended up totally exposed to his gaze. I didn't feel ashamed, I wanted him to look at me, so I just lay back down while looking at him.

Lewis, in turn, returned to kiss my collarbone, moving towards my breasts, where he stayed for a while.

-You are perfect. -His lips went down to my belly, and soon Lewis was already positioned between my legs. He pulled my panties off and got rid of them, throwing them somewhere in the room. He lay down between me and looked at me, waiting for another consent. I looked at him and nodded as if to tell him to go ahead and do it.

And he did it.

Oh yes he did it.

The moan I was trying to keep was released as soon as I felt his tongue touching me. It was the best sensation in the world, Lewis started slow but soon intensified, I moved under him trying to make the most of what he has given to me. One of his hands went from holding my waist to between my legs, where he slowly placed a finger inside me. That didn't hurt, it was the opposite, I almost screamed with pleasure. I was grateful that we were alone, I don't know if I could hold back my sound.

With one finger inside me, Lewis started to make a move and that sent me over the edge, my legs start shaking and I couldn't think straight, I just wanted him with me. He climbed up to me and kissed me with hunger, there was strength and it was almost instinctual. I took my hand to his shirt and helped him take it off. Soon after I took my hand and touched him over his pants, I could feel the exaggerated bulge, I had no idea how to do that but I wanted to be able to touch him.

Lewis got rid of his pants and underwear and positioned himself on top of me. I saw his size and for the first time that night, I felt a certain apprehension. What he seemed to realize.

-I'll go slowly, you tell me if you want me to take it off. But it will probably hurt a little in the begging. But I promise you I'll be careful.

-Okay.

Lewis kissed me before putting himself between my legs and slowly penetrating me. I pulled his face down to my neck, not wanting him to see the discomfort on my face. At first, it did hurt, but I knew it would be like this, and I didn't wanted to stop, I wanted him inside me. I mentally thanked the universe when I realized he was already all in, Lewis stayed there for a minute until I got used to his size. Gradually he began to move, which started very slowly and then gained more speed. The pain that was almost unbearable at first gave way to immense pleasure.

-You good? - He looked at me again. I nodded and pressed our lips together tightly. In a short time, we were already in a rhythm that was good for both of us, I moaned low in his ear and I could feel his breath on mine, it was much better than I imagined it would be. At one point Lewis accelerated and started moaning, I knew he was almost there. Only then did I realize that we did everything without any protection.

-Lew, take it off, we're not wearing a condom.

He didn't seem to hear it at first but ended up granting my request and came out of me, in my abdomen.

Lewis kissed me and stayed between my legs for a while. Then he got up and pulled me with him into the bathroom, we cleaned up and went back to bed. I pulled the blanket over us and snuggled into his lap, our clothes lying on the floor of his room with no intention of being picked.

-How do you feel? -He asked after a few minutes that we were lying down.

-Impure. - I felt Lewis laughing below me and I laughed with him. It wasn't true, I felt good, happy to have done this with the boy that I love. -I'm kidding. I feel great, it was much better than I imagined it would be. And I'm glad it was with you.

I lifted my head from his chest and looked at him, Lewis was beautiful in that light, I joined our lips again in a quick kiss and went back to lay on his chest, as much as I wanted to extend that night, the tiredness was already consuming me and I couldn't stand much more awake.

-I love you. -It was the last thing I heard that night before falling asleep.

December 2005

-You look beautiful in your graduation gown and cape.

We were sitting on the living room floor of my house, surrounded by pizza and beers. We came here after my graduation ceremony, where we knew we'd be alone since my parents went traveling. I used the money they left as an apology for not attending my graduation to buy us pizza and drinks.

-I don't ever want to take it off. I feel good in this. I feel important.

Lewis smiled and pulled me closer to him.

-Do you know what you're going to do now? -I relax in his lap and it took me a few seconds to answer him.

-I know what I want to do. I'm going to try to get into that college I told you about, I will apply for it next year. I love fashion design, and I want to do it in the city of my dreams, it would be perfect if I was accepted. But don't worry, until then I'll still live by your side.

Lewis remains in silence for a long time before answering me.

-This is in France, isn't it?

-Yes. In Paris. At least I took my French lessons seriously. -I chuckled and lifted my face to look at him. But Lewis wasn't smiling, on the opposite, his face was frowning.

-Is there a problem?

-There are great fashion colleges in London, where you would be closer. -Lewis took his hand from my waist, where it had been resting for some time. I pulled away from him, sitting down in front of him.

-I know. But Paris has always been a dream, you know that. And knowing that it's possible just made me even more excited.

Lewis didn't look happy at all, and that pissed me off.

-I don't think it's a good idea. Going to the other side of the continent alone and venturing out like that doesn't sound right.

-You're talking like my father. - I held myself back from rolling my eyes at that conversation.

-Maybe your father is right, Angie. Have you ever thought about it?

-No Lewis. He's not, he's never been right about anything.

I got up and went to the kitchen, I wanted to escape that conversation, I never thought that Lewis would react like that, I never thought that he would be upset that I wanted to follow my dream. I took off my cap and poured myself a glass of water, my mouth was dry.

-Angie, please. I'm just saying that things are more complicated than they appear. The world is not the way you think it is.

-And why don't you let me figure this out on my own?

He was standing in the kitchen doorway while I was leaning against the sink, facing him.

-Cause I care about you. I don't want you to regret doing something crazy like that.

I Laugh without humor.

-Look at you. You're running for formula 3. How many times have you been told it's crazy and you should give up? Now you come and tell me that?! Are you kidding me?!

-Angie listen...

-No Lewis! You listen. What you want is for me to be here waiting for you while you travel the world with your perfect driver's life.

I realized that my tone was higher than usual so I tried to calm down.

-There's nothing in this world I want more than that, Lew.

-Not even me?

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, I looked at him in disbelief.

-You will not do this to me, Lewis. -I felt my eyes burning. -You would never stop running for me, don't make me abandon my dream to live yours.

Lewis fell silent, his frustrated expression replaced by a thoughtful one. He didn't look at me, I don't think he even paid attention to the environment.

-You're right. I can't create expectations about you waiting for me here. You have all the right to live your life and go after your dreams. -Lewis looked at me but he didn't even take a step toward me, he was nervous and I could deduce that just by looking at him. There's nothing worse for me than fighting with Lewis. -But do you think it will work? The two of us, when we leave here?

-I don't know.

February 2006

-I still can't believe it. - I couldn't get the smile off my face.

-Well, believe me, this is going to become routine now that you graduated and I have you free for me for a while.

We were walking through Monza airport, we came for the first stage of the formula 3 championship. The race will only be in 5 days, but Lewis managed to convince everyone that he needed to come earlier to "prepare", even if that preparation means eating a lot and drinking wine every night on his staff bill.

I couldn't help but snap pictures from the moment we walked out of the airport to our hotel check-in, where we were both trying not to look shocked by the size of it all.

-No fucking way! -I was discredited in that place. And Lewis didn't look any different. The hotel room was more like an apartment than a bedroom. -Lewis, there's a living room inside our hotel room.

At this point, I had already explored every corner of the place.

-I'll never get used to this. -Lewis was smiling from ear to ear.

It was at that moment that I stopped paying attention to the immensity of that room and looked at him. His smile managed to move me, the way Lewis was sincerely happy with how his life was unfolding made me more than proud to have seen it all happen up close. As much as he still has a lot of things to conquer, all of this already seems huge close to where he started. The realization of my privilege to be by his side at a time like this hit me and I couldn't help the emotion in my eyes, which he soon noticed.

-Honey, are you okay? -His smile faded a little at his concern.

-Yes, everything is perfect. -I walked over to him and snuggled into his arms. -I'm just happy. -I didn't tell him but part of the reason for the tears in my eyes was fear, fear of separating, fear of him forgetting me if I go to college, and fear of leaving him and then regretting it. My anxieties related to our future have been keeping me awake for a long time, and as much as I don't talk about it with him, I know he's not much different from me.

-I have an idea. -Lewis said after a few minutes that we were hugging in the middle of that giant room. He broke our embrace and went to the phone.

-What are you going to d...

-Hi, my wife and I wanted to order room service. Right. Can you bring a bottle of champagne? Yeah, anyone is fine. Actually, the best bottle you have. Yes. And we also want a portion of fries. That's all. this is charged to whoever booked the room right? Ah yes, so it will be two bottles then. Right, thanks.

When Lewis put the phone back down I was laughing so hard I could barely stand. He got up and walked over to me, giving me his hand.

-So I'm your wife? -I said with a smile on my lips.

-One day. And it's going to be huge the way you deserve it. But meanwhile, we pretend for a week that we're married and spending a few days in Italy, as usual. - I sealed our lips with a smile on my face and a lump in my throat.

October 2006

We looked at the telephone with a high expectation that it would ring at any second with the news we had been waiting for some time. The anxiety was so big that we couldn't even talk for more than a few minutes without stopping to pay attention to the yellow telephone in his house. Me, Linda, and Nicholas were in the living room waiting for Lewis and Anthony, who were in a meeting with McLaren, a meeting that would determine if the place as second driver in the team was going to be his for the next year.

From Stevenage to Woking it was just an hour trip, but I made lewis promise me that he would call with the answer of the team before he get home, whether it was good or bad news.

As much as we'd been waiting, when the phone finally rang, we jumped in alarmed. Linda didn't take a second to answer. I saw her face go from fear to pure happiness, and then we exploded in joy. Of course he made it. We started celebrating even before they got home. We spent hours celebrating, and for the first time I saw Lewis and Anthony really moved, I wanted to cry with them. After all the sacrifice he finally got the result he deserved.

Lewis would be a formula 1 driver. the best driver ever.

December 2006

I've already lost the track of time. We've been in this room for hours. I've watched night turn into day and still I refuse to fall asleep and stop noticing his presence and our contact. I've counted his heartbeats and his light breathing for what seemed like hours. We don't have anything to talk about it anymore. We ignore his father calling us to dinner because the feeling is that if someone moves, everything will be over faster. I don't want to leave, but I have to. And so does he.

The last few months were more than perfect, being by his side and accompanying him in his races was better than I imagined it would be, I got to know several countries and saw Lewis conquering and standing out more and more in his sport and that couldn't have made me more proud and happy for my love. But it came to an end as we knew it would one day. Since the fight, we haven't talked about our relationship and our future, we decided to talk about it later, but that “later” never came.

The letter from the college was there the day I returned from a trip with him and we opened it together. Lewis was happy for me, or at least he tried to be, but that hug felt more like an embrace of losst than one of pride and happiness.

So I left my bags packed, waiting for me at home, while I ran the blocks to his house at the end of the street and asked for a few minutes with him since I had to go back home soon because of my flight the next morning. But the minutes turned into hours, hours of talking but not about our future, hours of lovemaking, and now hours of absolute silence as we lay together.

-I have to go. -I didn't feel the words coming out of my mouth, it was like someone else was speaking for me. How dare you open your mouth and disturb a moment like this?!

-I know. -Lewis didn't move, his arms were still around my body.

-Lew...

Lewis finally let go of me, now he was looking at me, we were still lying down, so close together that we seemed to be one single being. I could see the shine in his eyes through the tears that threatened to fall, I opened my mouth to tell him that everything was going to be okay, but I knew that was a lie. Lewis sealed our lips painfully, our kiss soon deepened and there was a moment when I didn't know if the tears I felt on my face were mine or his.

We already were without any clothes from all the lovemaking moments before, but it didn't feel like enough, it would never feel like enough as we had our minds on what was going to come next. Lewis put himself inside me and we didn't break our kiss even for a second, few birds were singing outside, since it was only five in the morning, and the only sound in the room was our irregular breathing.

There was almost no rhythm in our movements, but that wasn't about pleasure, that was our inexplicable connection in the purest form there was, I wanted to be able to merge with him and not go anywhere, but I know that I’ll never forgive myself if don't leave this place to live my dream. Even though this place has become my private paradise. I can't believe that for a moment I thought Stevenage was a boring place, nothing is boring with him by my side, and it hurts so much to imagine what will be of “us”.

I don't know when it ended, but soon we were just holding each other, our naked chests pressed together, both breathless and trying to hold back the tears.

-I love you. -The whisper was so low that I almost didn't hear it even with the room completely silent. -I will not leave you. Never.

-I love you too. But you know that's not true. -Lewis wrinkled his eyebrows and opened his mouth to answer but I cut him off. -Please don't make this any harder than it already is. We both know what's going to happen, and I could never blame you for that Lew.

-We can see each other, I can go to Paris whenever I'm not running, and then you come to me when you have some time off.

-Lewis. Please. -I sat on his mattress and looked at him seriously, Lewis looked like a child begging me with his eyes so I wouldn't hurt his feelings. -You are going to be a great driver at McLaren, you know it, I know it, everybody knows it. And when that happens your life will change completely and I will only be a small part of your past. And it's okay. But please don't make me a promise that you know you won't keep.

-Let me have a chance to try.

I wanted to force myself to answer and say that there was no way, but I couldn't, I couldn't because deep down I wanted it to be true, I wanted him to find some way to make our relationship work even though he was so far away from me in the biggest part of the time. So I nodded. I agreed with the idea even though I knew that in the end, it would be even more difficult and painful for us. As it was.

Lewis left me at home, I lost count of how many times I tried to get away from his embrace and I couldn't, we only separated because I really needed to go to the airport. But not before confirming my new phone number with him at least 20 times. I promised that I would call him as soon as I got there and that we would have a talk about the future of our relationship.

❀

We have talked to each other every day since my arrival in Paris, in the first days we spent hours on the phone, but over time we had to reduce our daily conversations, due to all the commitments that surrounded us.

Lewis was training every day and I was getting ready for the start of classes, everything was very new and different and I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't know how to get used to everything. But at the same time, I was excited to find out.

March 2007

For a moment at the beginning of those days, I truly believed that his plan would work, this long-distance relationship thing. Lewis was willing to keep his promise and every day I believed more that it would work, since it was “just a little more time until we see each other again”. But things are not always as we imagine, we were innocent to believe that it would work for so long.

We didn't even know when we would see each other again, there was no going back, this is our life now, a life where the other doesn't fit anymore. I had to pretend to myself that I didn't care and understood when he didn't pick up, or when he spoke differently to me because he was clearly too busy to talk. I couldn't be this bitch who thinks it's bad that he doesn't have time for me when he was literally living his biggest dream. All of this is much bigger than us.

Eventually, I found out about his Formula 1 accomplishments on the internet, or through his stepmother who still called me every week to see how I was doing. Since most of the time, he forgot to talk to me or text me or whatever.

Lewis had not spoken to me for some time, I tried to call him but I always ended up in voicemail with a message from him shortly afterward apologizing and saying he would call me as soon as he could. But those calls didn't come as quickly as I wish. But every time his number called me, my heart still jumped and filled with joy at being able to hear his voice, even if in the end it ended up hurting me even more.

I knew what came would come eventually, I knew my fall would be a big one, but I didn't expect it to hurt so much, they say if you expect the worst you won't be disappointed, but that's bullshit.

I got on social media that day and came across the news that I knew would come sooner or later. He was with someone else. Comfortable next to her as if he did not doubt his feelings, as if he hadn't promised me at least to try. I thought to myself that I already knew this was going to happen, but I still felt really bad. I was still trying to assimilate what I was reading when his name jumped on my phone screen, the call I had been waiting for days, but this time my reaction wasn't happiness, I felt like I was going to throw up.

I ignored his call and went to my dorm, the conversation about us that never happened would happen now, and in the worst possible moment. I wanted to calm down to talk to him but Lewis insisted on talking to me right then and there. My phone kept vibrating as I sat on the small sofa in my room, trying to control my breathing so I wouldn't end up having a panic attack or something. He knew I knew, that's why he was calling me, to explain himself, or to end whatever kind of relationship we have, at this point I don't know anymore.

I took a deep breath before answering his fifth call. I accepted the call but didn't say anything, trying my best to postpone the conversation.

"Angie?"

"Hi." My voice came out almost in a whisper.

"Are you okay?" I could hear in the background that he was in a bustling place.

"Yes.”

"Good."

For a moment I thought he wasn't going to say anything else, maybe he was waiting for me to start the conversation, but I didn't even know where to start.

"Listen, I don't know if you saw it."

"Oh, I saw it."

"I just wanted to tell you that..."

"You don't have to tell me anything. I told you this would happen, didn't I?"

I could barely feel my body, the blood was running through my veins fast enough to make me tingle.

"Angie."

"We could have spared this if you'd listened to me. But you insisted, and you asked me to trust you. And I trusted you, Lewis."

"I told you we would try, and we are trying."

"I don't think what you're doing could be seen as trying."

He took a few seconds to respond, I could hear his breathing even over the background noise.

"We never talked about exclusivity."

"We never talked about anything, Lewis. You've always avoided that kind of conversation with me from the moment you found out we were going to split up."

"That's not true."

"You know it is. We were naive and you know it. And you know what's worst of all? I can't even blame you, Lewis. I can't as much as I want to and this is killing me right now”.

I had to take a deep breath before proceeding because of the tears that were already burning my eyes.

"I'll tell you what I should have said from the beginning, but I was stupid and I thought for a moment that this was going to work. Go ahead, go live your life. You know I don't fit in with this anymore. We have nothing to do with each other anymore. You took a path and I took another, things happen, what are we after all? Just childhood sweethearts and everyone knows that kind of thing doesn't go forward."

"’Just’? Are you going to sum up everything we've had into that?"

"It is what it is. I told you it was all going to end up being a small part of your past. We were kids, and we still are. And everything tends to be a lot more exciting when there's no prior experience."

"So that's it?"

"That's it, that's all it was and all it could have been. Do what you wanted to do from the beginning, focus on your career -I laugh humorlessly. -And your perfect new girl, while I'm going to focus on my life. But please, please, don't look for me anymore. Cause I won't be able to move on with you in my life like a ghost."

"Angie…" I could almost hear his thoughts. There was a lot said in that silence that I would never actually hear. But I didn't have to, I was also feeling the same thing as him, as usual.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay Lew."

We stayed on the line for a while without saying anything, just listening to our breaths, trying to stay together even if separated for a little longer, attaching to what was already gone. I don't know who had the initiative to hang up first, but eventually, it ended, what I had almost my whole life ended, what I never thought would end.

And that was it, the boy I fell in love with and promised I would have forever has gone, without questioning, after just a few minute's phone call.

I know I can get over it, I hope that in a short time he really just becomes a good memory of my past, but not for now. For now, I'm broken and have no idea how to get out of this room and move on with my life. I know this will have to happen one day, but not today.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton smut #f1 x reader #smut fanfiction #fanfiction #au fanfiction #formula one fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfiction #fluff #formula one #Spotify

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

Text

The Silver Dragon (41/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 8030

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: On the first day they have spent apart since they were wed, Aemond and Arianwyn fly far away from each other on missions for the new King.

Warnings: none, unless you count frat-boy-esque characters

Author's Note:

I'm back! And I'm so, SO sorry for the wait!!! Those few days I warned y'all about kind of turned into an impromptu hiatus! But, I hope that the veritable FEAST I'm about to give y'all will make up for it.

The story of what Aria and Aemond get up to on their respective missions was originally going to be just two, regular sized chapters (one for Aria, one of Aemond). But… it kinda turned into a monster as I was writing.

So, instead of two single-POV chapters, y'all are getting a three-parter! Both Aria and Aemond have roughly equal time in each, so you won't have to go without either of them. Today, I'm posting the first part. Part II will follow tomorrow, and part III the day after. Each chapter is longer than any that have come before it. This one is just over 8K, part II is a WHOPPING 18K, and part III should be coming in at around 10K…

Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk @somemydayy @kittykylax @whore-of-many-hot-men @slavicvvitch @crazymusicgirl104

(Please let me know if your tag isn't working, and I'll do my best to correct it! And if you would like to be added to the list, just shoot me an ask!)

Three Days, Part I

On the 23rd day in the ninth month, 136 years after Aegon’s conquest…

As she soared over the Westerosi countryside, Arianwyn found herself wishing that the Vale and the Eyrie were somehow further away so that she and Emrys could stay in the skies for even longer.

But there it was.

Just coming into view was a great expanse of sparkling blue-green water, bounded on either side by a patchwork of towering sandy dunes, salty marshlands, small fishing villages built entirely upon stilts, and a hundred small streams.

The Bay of Crabs. The border separating the Crownlands from the Vale – her adopted home from the place of her birth and the land of her ancestors.

Some small part of her that still yearned for adventure and unrestricted freedom urged her to turn Emrys from his path. If she turned east, it would only take a few hours to reach Essos. If she followed the water to the west, she would find herself at the mouth of the Trident in the Riverlands.

Perhaps another day, she and Emrys would pick one of the river’s forks on a whim and follow it to its end – with Aemond and Vhagar beside them.

But today, she had a mission.

She hadn’t held Emry’s reins for hours – hadn’t needed to. After they had left King’s Landing, she only needed to direct him once. North and ever so slightly east. Then she had simply let him fly.

He needed no encouragement beyond that. For so long, he had been restricted by Daemon’s threats against him, his cherished rider, and her home. He could hardly go half a mile from Dragonstone’s shores before fear gripped them both, and he had rarely been in the air for more than a few hours. Now, he was flying further than he ever had before.

It was not entirely a blessing.

They had left not long after dawn, and it had only been a short while since the sun reached its zenith, but his wings were aching with effort and overuse. After one particularly strong beat of his wings, to combat the wind he was flying against – a shooting pain went through his right shoulder, and he faltered a bit, causing Arianwyn to sit up in her seat and seize the reins again. He let out an apologetic roar, struggling to right himself and fly steady.

“Issa sȳz, Emrys,” Arianwyn called over the roaring wind. “Iksan sȳz. Issi ao?” It is fine, Emrys. I am fine. Are you?

He grunted in reply, the sound strained.

She sighed and leaned forward to pat the scales of his side. “Iksan sīr vaoreznuni, ñuha byka ossȳngnon. Iksi va naejot Wickenden. Kessa daor sagon bōsa, se pār kostā emagoniā mība ēdrugon.” I am so sorry, my little dread. We are near to Wickenden. It will not be long, and then you can have a short rest.

Indeed, Otto had anticipated this. That either Emrys or Arianwyn would tire before they reached their destination. The Hand had therefore sent a raven to the Lord of House Waxley, asking if they would host the newest Targaryen princess – and Lady of Runestone – for an afternoon tea as she made her way to the Eyrie.

Lord Waxley had been all too eager to accept. Wickenden had never had the honor of hosting a member of the Royal house before. It had been planned for King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to visit during one of their many progresses, but an assassination attempt on the Good Queen had ended the tour before they had been able to visit the castle – which was conveniently located just over halfway between King’s Landing and the Eyrie.

As they flew over the Bay of Crabs, Emrys flying valiantly, Arianwyn made a note to thank Otto for his foresight when she returned. She whispered encouragement and praise, laughing at the dragon’s eager yelps as they finally began to descend toward the picturesque town, the humble stone castle that looked over it, and the great fleet of beehives that stood like soldiers in the fields beyond.

A large bonfire had been lit in one of the fields on the western side of the town – the signal for where Emrys should land. He did not need Arianwyn’s encouragement to aim toward it, but she had to pull up on his reins to ensure he didn’t descend too quickly. His tail, tipped with the same horns that ran from the crest of his head down his spine, came dangerously close to tearing through their beautifully thatched roofs and ensuring that a Targaryen would never again be invited to Wickenden.

Lord and Lady Waxley themselves were waiting in the field to receive them with genuinely warm formalities. They were older, bordering on truly elderly, but in good health. Both had a friendly air about them, and their cheeks were flushed as they gazed in awe at the dragon before them.

Every person who beheld Emrys bore that same look.

Regardless of their education, every person in Westeros knew of the Balerion, the mighty black dragon that had won the Seven Kingdoms for Aegon the Conqueror. Whose fires had melted the very stones of Harrenhal and forged the Iron Throne itself. Nearly two hundred years old at his death, he had been the last living creature who had known the glory of Old Valyria.

Though Emrys was smaller, younger, and had no great feats to his name, no one could look at him and not recall the legends of Balerion the Black Dread.

Arianwyn had a sneaking suspicion that he somehow understood why people looked at him with such amazement and that he relished in it. Why else would he always preen as he did now?

Emrys let out a pompous huff as he stood tall despite the ache in his muscles, and Arianwyn was sure he was holding a great breath in his chest to make himself seem larger than he was.

However, his posturing ended when Lord Waxley summoned a wagon full of chained goats and large barrels of water. Emrys, exhausted from their flight, eagerly bounded toward where knights began to unload his provisions. He was so thirsty that he shattered one of the water barrels between his teeth as he hurried to gulp it down.

Arianwyn gave her flustered apologies for his inelegant behavior to her hosts. They were overly gracious and assured her it was unnecessary, seemingly relieved that her fearsome beast was indeed not fearsome, but rather more like an excessively large, frighteningly deadly herding dog. Albeit, one not quite fully trained.

Emrys was fully trained, technically, but still filled with youthful wonder and joy at the world. He was not a creature of war, and Arianwyn was glad of it.

Dragons were not weapons, though her ancestors had so often used them as such. And they were more than beasts of burden or even beloved pets. They were more akin to peers than any other animal. Companions, partners, friends. Viserys had told her something of the like once, not long after she had taken her first flight.

But looking back at her friend as she climbed into the Waxley’s carriage to ride to their castle for a short visit and some refreshments, Arianwyn realized that the mission they were on suggested that neither of them may have a choice.

War was looming. If it came, Emrys might very well be forced to become a creature of war.

Arianwyn was repulsed by the thought. She let that revulsion and fear settle within her, let it become something heavy and sharp in her gut. It made her muscles tense, her heart beat faster, and her mind race.

She savored the feeling. Though it was uncomfortable, it sat well next to her burning desire to bend to Aemond’s wish to go to Runestone together – to leave the court and King’s Landing behind. She had not realized how much it appealed to her until she let herself imagine Emrys in the moorlands of Runestone, flying along its coasts and resting in its Dragonpit.

Emrys would love it there, especially if Vhagar was there with him. The old dragon would, of course, join them as well. And for the first time in decades, she would not be alone.

Smiling at her hosts, Arianwyn silently vowed that she would do anything to succeed in her mission – for Emrys and Vhagar, Aemond and herself, and the peace they all wanted.

Vhagar was old, and slower than she once was due to her massive size, but she still loved to fly. Aemond had to laugh each time she trilled joyfully whenever they caught a strong updraft or passed through a group of clouds. At least she could still fly fast enough that the lingering water from the clouds dried within moments.

Still, the flight to Storm’s End was longer than she was used to, and her vocalizations had become less joyful and more irritable the closer they got to their destination.

Her groans of protest as they ascended higher to fly over the mountains of the Crownlands were particularly crass – or they likely would have been had she been able to speak rather than roar. Aemond had no doubt that if Vhagar could form words, she would delight in cursing like a Braavosi sailor.

“Kesi jiōragon konīr aderelo jī toliot,” he shouted to her as he slackened his grip on the reins. “Yn lo ao drējī jaelagon naejot, kosti jikagon grevenka.” We will get there sooner if we go over. But if you truly want to, we can go around.

Vhagar’s answering growl echoed through the stone of the mountains. If anyone below had heard, they would be terrified. Aemond, who knew by now what each noise meant, was only vaguely annoyed.

The sooner I can get you off my back, the better, she had seemed to say.

He rolled his eye and tugged on her reins – not to give any order or direction, but to show her he did not appreciate her sentiments.

“Issa daor ñuha gaomilaksir bona iksā uēpa se ēdrugī,” he laughed. “Se nyke gīmigon ao jorrāelagon nyke, se ao jorrāelagon issare isse se jēdar. Iksā biare naejot sagon kesīr lēda nyke, se ao daor ruaragon ziry.” It is not my fault that you are old and tired. And I know you love me, and you love being in the sky. You are happy to be here with me, and you cannot hide it.

Indeed, she could not hide it. But she could huff delightedly as she spun herself around, flexing her wings just right to keep her airborne as she crested the mountain peak upside down. She roared with glee when Aemond finally began shouting for her to right herself.

“Vhagar, kesā mazverdagon nyke ropagon lo jā olvie tolī,” he screamed as the blood rushed to his head, and he strained to keep his hands on the horns of the saddle. “Kostilus? Iksan vaoreznuni!” You will make me faint if you go much further. Please? I’m sorry!

Satisfied, she righted herself. She was impressed by how long he had lasted. He was getting better. Soon, he may be able to go longer than even Visenya had. She gave a low roar.

Very good, little Prince. You shall be fierce yet.

Aemond rolled his eye again as he smoothed down his hair, but his heart swelled with pride. If only Arianwyn had been there to see that, she would have proclaimed him the dragonriding superior to the Conqueror then and there.

His chest tightened at the thought of his sweet wife alone on her journey, hundreds of miles away from him. By now, she would be in Wickenden or, ideally, already departed from it. He hoped she would not linger there too long, for the thought of her arriving at the Eyrie in the dark – or worse, getting lost in the mountains at night – was unbearable.

At the thought, his hand drifted to the hilt of his dagger. He had intended to send it with her so he could offer her at least some protection. But Ser Ruban beat him to it, giving her the first dagger he had ever owned as they climbed into the carriage. It was obviously made for a boy not yet grown, and as such, was the perfect size for Arianwyn.

She had protested, insisting that such an heirloom should be passed down to his own sons, but Ruban had vowed he had no intention to marry or sire sons and that it would be the greatest honor of his life for her to wield the blade. Who could have refused that?

Still, Aemond was glad, in the end, to have his dagger with him, for it reminded him of Arianwyn. She had bit down on the hilt so hard when he was buried between her thighs that she had left teeth marks in the leather and dented the gold wire wrapped around it.

Normally, such an imperfection would have frustrated Aemond to no end. But nothing she ever did could ever be called imperfect. He ran his thumb over the marks, his heart lightening at the memories it brought back. If she had thought he was ravenous yesterday, she would be amazed by what he planned to do once they were both back in King’s Landing.

Three days, he reminded himself. Then, gods willing, they would return to each other, having successfully won the allegiance of two of the most powerful houses in Westeros. An alliance that would surely dissuade his half-sister from pressing her dubious claim to the throne.

There would be no war, no death. Nothing to stop them from going to Runestone and starting their lives together.

He only had to wait three days.

Vhagar’s curmudgeonly roar stopped his mind’s wanderings.

Wake up, little Prince, it said. We are nearly there, and you must be ready.

Aemond had been so far into his daydream that he was well into picturing him and Arianwyn walking across the hills of the Vale with their flock of sheep and their small army of children.

He set those wonderful images aside, retaking Vhagar’s reins to guide her down toward the castle perched on the seaside cliff. Its singular tower reminded him of the descriptions he had once heard about Dragonstone, where the bricks used in its construction had been fused together with dragonfire, for even his keen eye could find no seams in the stone.

But Storm’s End was far older than the arrival of dragons on this continent. No, it had been constructed by men – or the Children of the Forest and a demi-god, if the legends were to be believed. The stones were so precisely cut that there were no seams, no vulnerable spaces for the winds that racked Shipbreaker Bay to find purchase.

Storms that Aemond had just noticed were conspicuously absent. Clouds covered the sky, yes. But no rain fell, and no thunder crashed through the sky.

Perhaps the gods were on his side.

When they finally left Wickenden – more than two hours later than she intended – Emrys was rested, well-fed, and eager to resume their journey. Lord and Lady Waxley had been so sweet and kind, and so excited that their humble castle was finally hosting a Targaryen that Arianwyn had not had the heart to interrupt the tour they insisted on giving her, along with a detailed history of their house. That part, at least, Arianwyn was mildly interested in.

She had only reached her limit when they began to escort her to the apiary itself, casually mentioning their more than five hundred beehives. Thanks to Helaena, Arianwyn had spent more time around insects, including bees, than most nobles. But the sheer number of bees that would surely be in those fields was too much even for her.

So, she hurried back to Emrys’ side and stuffed the ridiculous number of scented candles Lord Waxley had gifted her with into his saddlebags. She was sure at least half of them would be snapped or smashed by the time she reached the Eyrie, much less King’s Landing.

But she had grand plans for those that survived. A candlelit night with Aemond was precisely how she wanted to celebrate their return – and, hopefully, their successful courting of the Vale and the Stormlands.

That was what she needed to focus on right now. Her mission. Her duty to her family and her King. Her role as a Princess of the Realm.

Although, as the soaring peaks of the Mountains of the Moon loomed closer and the sun set lower behind them, she realized that her delay in Wickenden meant that making it to the Eyrie easily would be difficult – and arriving before sunset was impossible.

Aemond would be so upset. Though by the time he found out, she would be safely back in King’s Landing, he would nevertheless worry retrospectively and fuss over her relentlessly. She smiled at the thought. To all the world, he was such a fearsome warrior, yet he would fall nearly to pieces just from her arriving at her destination after dark.

The fearsome ‘One-Eyed Prince,’ indeed.

By the time they were well within the mountain range, snow-capped peaks extending beyond their view, it was truly dark. It was only thanks to the glow of the nearly-full moon off the snow that Emrys was able to navigate his way through the stony maze.

Though there were several close calls.

Arianwyn was reduced to prayer the further into the mountains they got. She would have to go to the Grand Sept itself to beg forgiveness for the string of curses that interrupted her beseeching of the Crone when Emrys suddenly swerved to avoid a peak he had not seen.

Eventually, there was a light other than the moon beckoning them. Seven other lights, actually. A fire had been lit atop each of the Eyrie’s spires, and every window in the castle was illuminated.

“Kirimvogon se Sīkuda. Se ao, Emrys. Īlon vēttan ziry,” Arianwyn muttered, as reverently as any of her prayers. “Ao vēttan ziry. Ao gōntan sīr sȳrī, Emrys.” Thank the Seven. And you.We made it. You made it. You did so well.

Though she could still hear the nervousness in his voice, Emrys trilled triumphantly as he rose above the castle’s white walls and lowered himself into its large garden.

Arianwyn leapt off the saddle, grateful to feel solid ground beneath her feet once more. Emrys immediately turned his head to nuzzle her, equally grateful that he had gotten her here safely. He made a soft sound, questioning whether she was alright after their harrowing flight.

“Iksan sȳz. Ao gōntan sīr sȳrī,” she assured him again as she stroked his snout. He was as much of a worrier as Aemond. Now that she thought about it, her husband and her dragon were, in fact, quite similar. I am fine. You did so well.

She looked around the expansive gardens, surprised at the wealth of greenery within. The Maesters must have toiled for years to get anything to grow atop the tallest mountain in Westeros.

While it was beautiful, but all Arianwyn could think of was its rich history.

Leaning into Emrys as she heard hurried footsteps approach from within the castle, Arianwyn whispered gently to calm him. “Vhagar māstan kesīr istin, ao gīmigon. Lēda Visenya, skori ziry jiōraton se Vāle.” Vhagar came here once, you know. With Visenya, when she won the Vale.

Emrys glanced around the large courtyard as if he would still be able to find a remnant of his new friend, and sniffed deeply to see if her scent lingered after more than a hundred years. But, of course, it did not. And his attention was soon drawn to the small party emerging into the gardens.

“Aria!” Ser Gerold called as he ran to her side and pulled her off the flagstones and into his warm embrace.

She squealed with undignified delight as she hugged him back, laughing with joy at finally seeing him again. He had made many entreaties to visit her at Dragonstone during her time there, all soundly rejected by her father.

But now, he stood before her, holding her at arm’s length as they inspected each other.

Gerold’s hair had gone entirely white in the last six years, and his hairline had receded even further. He was heavier, too, and wearing a different set of armor than he had when she saw him last. There were shadows under his eyes, so like the ones Alicent wore. But his gray eyes were bright and shone with tears of relief as he looked at Arianwyn and cradled her cheek in his large hand.

“Oh, Aria,” he sighed with a half-smile. “You are a woman now.”

She blinked tears from her eyes and laughed sheepishly as she smiled back at him. “And you are an old man, cousin.”

He laughed with her when she ruffled her hand through his hair. “Now we really look like family, don’t we?”

“Next time you come to King’s Landing, we can try and pass you off as a long-lost Targaryen Prince!” Arianwyn snorted, her eyes wide as her mind turned mischievous. “If Aegon is drunk enough, I know he will believe it!”

Another laughing voice joined them, soft and feminine despite its deep tone. “As much as watching this long-overdue reunion warms my heart,” it said, “I should like to be introduced to my godsdaughter, Gerold.”

Arianwyn peered over her cousin’s shoulder to look at Lady Jeyne Arryn – her godsmother.

Jeyne’s dark eyes were filled with nearly as much pride as Gerold’s, and her thin lips were curved in a hesitant, hopeful grin. She extended a long arm toward the girl, beckoning her forward. “Come, it had been nineteen long years. Let me look at you at last.”

With childlike enthusiasm, Arianwyn obeyed, taking Jeyne’s hand and even giving her a quick twirl as he godsmother looked over her. But her impatience grew as the Lady remained silent, thoroughly examining her – and her bronze armor.

For a moment, she was afraid of rejection, that she would somehow be found wanting. Indeed, Jeyne frowned when she ran a hand along her braided silver hair, but then she lifted her chin to look at her eyes, and beamed.

“You look so like your mother,” Jeyne whispered, her voice breaking.

Arianwyn stifled a sob. No one had ever told her that before. She had only ever heard how unlike her father she was. To know that she resembled Rhea, and not some distant ancestor she never knew, was cathartic.

She was a Royce, in more than just her eyes.

“Oh, but I have forgotten my manners,” Jeyne tutted, releasing the girl as she lowered herself into a curtsy. “You are more than just my godsdaughter, the child of my oldest friend, and the Lady of Runestone. You are now a Princess, if rumor is to be believed.”

“I have told her it must be true,” Gerold added as he came to stand by the girl’s side. “But our Lady has always been hesitant to believe gossip. And since you did not write to confirm any of the rumors…”

Jeyne rolled her eyes. “You would be wary as well, were you the subject of so many whispers over the years. And if the stories were as contrary as what we have heard.”

“It is true,” Arianwyn said, cutting off whatever witty reply Gerold had planned. He was so much less awkward now, here. She liked him like this. “Prince Aemond and I were married. I am so sorry I did not write, but it was… the last few days have been quite strange.”

“They must have been for you to be wed in a secret ceremony,” Gerold reasoned. “Unless that particular detail is untrue?”

He and Jeyne both took Arianwyn’s blushing and stuttering as confirmation.

“Well, I cannot wait to hear the real story,” Jeyne said, looping her arm through the girl’s to lead her out of the garden. “You would not believe what people are saying, my dear.”

Gerold followed close behind. “And I cannot wait to hear what delayed your arrival – you were expected hours ago. I was quite worried, Aria. I was almost ready to send a raven to Wickenden to ask after you.”

“Oh,” Arianwyn gasped, waving a quick goodbye to Emrys, who was already wrapping himself around a smoldering brazier to sleep. “I am so sorry! Lord and Lady Waxley kept me longer than I intended, and they were so sweet that I could not bring myself to stop them.”

She told them the story as they led her through the winding marble halls of the Eyrie, finally depositing her on a blue sofa before a roaring fire. A servant quickly brought her a hot meal, and she was introduced to Jessamyn Redfort, a dear friend of Jeyne’s, before Lady Arryn bombarded her with questions about her childhood and youth.

Arianwyn nearly choked on a piece of her roast chicken when Jeyne asked whether she had first kissed Aemond before or after she had flowered and if their relations had progressed further even than that before they were married.

She looked at her godsmother with wide eyes. “I… we never did anything like that until we were wed. And the bedding ceremony.”

Jeyne laughed so hard she nearly spilled her wine – her fourth cup of the night; she and Aegon would get along famously. “Gerold tells me the two of you were practically inseparable from the time you arrived in the capital, yet you mean to tell me you never even kissed before your wedding?”

“Well, we came close a few times,” Arianwyn said, thoroughly flustered as each memory of their relationship flooded back through her mind, “But I had never felt that way about him until I came back from Dragonstone. At least, I wasn’t aware of it if until then.”

Gerold sighed, “Aria, I can assure you that you were aware of it, though you were too young to know how to do anything about it. When you love someone, you cannot hide it, even from yourself.” He smirked, glancing to where Jeyne and Jessamyn shared a couch. “From what I saw, you have loved each other from the time you could walk, perhaps earlier.”

Jessamyn sighed dreamily, resting her head against Jeyne’s shoulder. “Your story is so lovely… how did those horrible rumors even start?”

The room fell silent, no one meeting her eyes. The hour Arianwyn had been here had been blissful, without a single mention of those rumors, or what happened the morning after her wedding.

They could not ignore it forever.

“It was my father, actually,” she explained. “Lies he concocted to try and have the marriage annulled. He could not stand to see me happy, or more than that, finally free from his control.”

Gerold grimaced. “Daemon Targaryen is a monster. It is simple as that.”

Arianwyn solemnly nodded her agreement, turning to Jeyne. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Or rather, something related to it. I don’t know how much the Hand told you in his letter, but…”

“Not tonight, Aria,” she snapped, her wine-flushed face turning stern for the first time that night. Arianwyn could, at last, see the great Maiden of the Vale in her godsmother, the woman who had soundly put down three rebellions against her rule. “I know why you are here, and I will happily listen to your petition – tomorrow. But, for tonight, I simply want to know you. To hear about all I have missed. Will you grant me that?”

Truthfully, Arianwyn was glad not to have to make the case for Aegon’s rule so late at night, when she was tired and already starting to feel quite fuzzy from her wine – Jessamyn had hunted down the sweetest vintage in the Eyrie’s stores to suit her fickle tastes.

She took another sip and looked back to her godsmother. “What would you like to know?”

Despite its impressive size, Storm’s End was still not large enough for Vhagar to land within its walls. But, by this point in her life, she was more than used to it. So, she contentedly settled beside the castle walls, where a great number of braziers and chained cattle were already laid out for her.

“Hāre tubissa, Vhagar,” Aemond murmured as he climbed down from her side. “Lēda biarves, kessa daor daomio, se kesā sagon arlī naejot se bāneves hen Dārys Tegorīr gō ao mirre ūndegon iā iōrves.” Three days, Vhagar. With luck, it will not rain, and you will be back to the warmth of King’s Landing before you ever catch a chill.

She only groaned in response, looking up at the clouds above them. Though no rain had fallen, the sky roiled with brewing storms.

Aemond sighed, a bemused grin on his face as he patted her worn scales. “Kesan ūndegon nūmāzma mirri ruaragon syt ao, sepār naejot sagon ȳgha.” I will see about some cover for you, just to be safe.

As he was escorted through the castle gates, he politely requested – he would never presume to give orders to another Lord’s servants, even if he wasn’t so determined to make a good impression – that some kind of shelter be arranged for Vhagar. He didn’t particularly care when the man started blustering about the labor and expense of such a thing. After being on dragonback for more than eight hours, his patience for other people was running dangerously thin, and he would need all of it when he finally met with Lord Borros Baratheon.

His mother and grandfather had warned him that Borros was perhaps the least refined Lord in all of Westeros. Their descriptions painted a picture of a man that, had he the choice, Aemond would have gladly avoided.

But they needed his allegiance. Aegon needed it, if he wanted to keep his throne.

So, Aemond would ensure he had it.

When the servant brought him before a set of dark wooden doors, he willed his face into one of his many masks, this one of pleasant indifference. He did not try to look friendly – he knew he couldn’t manage it, even if he wanted to. He had given that up long ago, even before his scar turned him into something truly terrifying to behold.

Indeed, when the doors opened, every man in the room looked at him with a healthy measure of fear as they stood and bowed their heads to the One-Eyed Prince.

It was not the throne room, where a Prince of the Realm should be received, but some sort of garish trophy room. Each wall was covered with horns and the stuffed heads of boars, deer, and even a few more exotic creatures. A few smaller animals were fully preserved, and posed in poor imitations of how they had been in life.

Aemond found the whole thing revolting. Especially the shadowcat pelt on the floor in the middle of the room, its head stuffed and frozen in an eternal howl. Even in death, such a creature deserved more than being trampled on by countless muddy boots.

Still, he kept his face impassive, not letting his offense at either the disrespect of greeting him here, or his personal disgust at Borros’ crude choice of décor show.

The Lord of the Stormlands was easy to identify, not only by the chain of office around his neck, but by the way every other man in the room looked at him expectantly. He was as Aemond expected – a thick-bodied old Lord with graying hair and a beard. What he hadn’t expected was the keen look in his eyes, though it faded quickly as he took another drink from his cup.

By the smell that pervaded the room, Borros and his entourage had been enjoying their ale for some time.

Ale – not wine. A drink more suited to the slums of Flea Bottom than the castle of a great Lord. It was nearly as vulgar as the décor.

Aemond crossed his hand behind his back and stared at Borros. He had tolerated the slight of his humble reception, but he still expected a formal greeting befitting both their stations. Though, even if he did not receive it, there was little he could do about it.

He would not fail Aegon.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen,” Borros began, his voice somewhat arrogant but respectful enough. “Welcome. You honor us with your presence.”

“The honor is mine, Lord Borros,” Aemond replied with a gracious bow of his head. “You have my gratitude for agreeing to host me with so little notice.”

Borros gave a tight smile. “How could I refuse? Our houses have long been allied, and you are the brother of our new King, after all.”

“Your loyalty to the crown is much appreciated,” Aemond said as he conceded a slight grin. This may not be as difficult as he was anticipating. “King Aegon sends his warm regards, as well as an offer – ”

“Oh, but where are my manners?” Borros interrupted, with an distinct lack of manners. “You have had a long journey, my Prince. Let us eat, and you can entertain us all with the tale of your brother’s coronation, since none of us were present – or even invited to attend.”

Aemond only nodded, for if he said anything, it would no doubt be rude and quash any chance he had of charming this brute of a man.

This would be just as difficult as he thought.

Very few of the men seated at Borros’ table were Lords themselves, or even highborn. Only half were even knights. It seemed all they had in common was their love of ale and the favor they held with their Lord.

Aemond had taken note of several who introduced themselves with the surname ‘Storm.’ They were too old to be Borros’ own bastards, though perhaps they could be his half-brothers or cousins. Whatever the relation, if there was any relation at all, their presence at the table was yet another poor omen for Aemond’s success.

He would not be able to argue that Rhaenyra’s bearing of her own bastards, and insistence on their legitimacy, posed a threat to the realm should she press her claim.

The first omen, other than the boorishness of Borros himself, had been the conspicuous absence of his wife and daughters. When Aemond inquired after them, under the pretense of paying his respects to the Lady of the Castle, he was told that they rarely eat with the men, especially before a hunt. Apparently, Borros and his men were ‘too rowdy for the women’ when they were together.

There could be no doubting the veracity of that statement.

More ale was brought to the table, along with a single bottle of wine for Aemond, which he did not drink. Though he had to admit to being tempted. If only to dull his mind and make the meal more bearable.

The food was not terrible, though there was a severe lack of vegetables in favor of nearly obscene amounts of meat. But the company was precisely what Aemond hated about court.

Boastful men telling tales of their exploits, brazenly embellishing their feats to a mythical degree. At least the stories were mostly about hunting and battle, not other, more vulgar conquests.

Whenever possible, Aemond tried to insert himself into the conversation so he could steer Borros to the actual reason he had come. But each time, Borros brushed him aside, calling instead on one of his men to tell yet another tale.

Aemond had resigned himself to silence when, at last, Borros turned to him.

“Tell me, my Prince,” he said, picking the last remaining scraps of meat off the bone he held. “Do you hunt?”

“I cannot say I am accomplished as you or your men here,” Aemond said cautiously, surprised that he was addressed directly. “But I have hunted, though not for some time.”

Borros looked somewhat conspiratorially at the man sitting to his left before turning back to the Prince. “And when you hunt, do you ride your horse or that dragon of yours?”

Aemond was surprised by the question, by its boldness and sheer ridiculousness. “Hunt with Vhagar? Certainly not.” He started, choking on his water as he realized how his words may offend his host. “I… she is far too large for most hunting grounds. And any prey she caught would either be swallowed whole or burnt. There would be nothing left to bring back. It would not be an effective method of hunting.”

“I see,” Borros muttered, refilling his mug of ale. “A shame. I was hoping you would join us tomorrow. I sense you are eager to get to whatever business your brother has sent you on. However, this hunt has been planned for months, and I will not postpone it simply because Aegon wants something of me.”

It took great effort on Aemond’s part to not scowl at what he was implying – that the Prince would be forced to wait until Borros deigned to meet with him.

But he could not wait that long. Rhaenys had no doubt told Rhaenyra of Aegon’s coronation, and by the time Aemond and Arianwyn left the Keep, two Kingsguard had gone ‘missing.’ Dragonstone, that hateful place, was no doubt already buzzing as Daemon prepared for war. Even a day’s delay in securing Storm’s End could have devastating consequences.

Besides, Aemond promised Aria that he would be back, and they would be reunited, before their three days were up.

So, he forced a polite smile and his voice to remain calm. “Then surely it would be wise for us to settle the business tonight, would it not?”

“Is there some pressing need for haste, my Prince?” Borros asked smugly.

“Regrettably, yes,” Aemond bit out. He clenched his hand under the table at the smug look on the faces surrounding him. It would be unwise to give his true reason for wanting the business done quickly.

‘One should never reveal more than is necessary,’ as it was written in the book of warfare he was still reading. The same book he had been reading when Arianwyn climbed atop him…

He gave a short laugh and what he hoped was a charming smile to the men that were watching him. They were so simple, so easy to read. And though he hated to discuss his dear wife in such a way, he knew precisely how to ply them.

“I am sure you have heard that I have been married,” he explained, knowing he would feel guilty the next time he saw Arianwyn. “It has not yet been a week since that happy night, and I confess I find myself impatient to return to my wife.”

“And her bed,” one of the men further down the table snickered.

Aemond drew his hand into a fist so fast that his nails dug into the skin of his palm, but he said nothing. Instead, he smirked, hoping it would be interpreted as a sign of amusement and not the dangerous rage he truly felt.

Borros rolled his eyes before facing the Prince again. “Normally, I would be happy to accommodate your request. I remember how reluctant I was to let Elenda out of my sight when we were first wed. And our own courtship was not half as…” he carefully assessed Aemond before finishing his sentence, “hasty as your own.”

“Where is your lovely wife now, Prince Aemond?” One of Borros’ men – one of the Storm bastards – asked.

A seemingly innocent question, but Aemond knew what he was really asking. Larys had said that Daemon’s accusations had made their way throughout the realm. How, he had no idea. But this confirmed it. As had the two score sets of eyes that immediately turned to him, waiting for his answer.

“The Princess Arianwyn left the Red Keep just before me this morning,” he said, noting exactly which men looked surprised by his words. “She and her dragon flew for the Eyrie. They should be there now, assuming they were not delayed in Wickenden.”

He could have sworn he saw two men exchanging coins under the table. The payment of a wager on whether the One-Eyed Prince had truly captured his bride – whether he was the monster he was rumored to be.

Aemond took in a heavy, calming breath before he continued. “It was my hope to return to King’s Landing before her, so I can welcome her home when she arrives. Neither she nor her dragon have been on so long a journey before; she is bound to be tired.”

Another chuckle went through the men, and several lewd comments Aemond pretended not to hear as he turned back to Borros. “I trust you can understand my haste, then?”

“I can,” Borros conceded. “But I still cannot postpone the hunt. So, you will join us, and we can discuss whatever business you have then.”

Though he would rather dine with the Stranger than spend time in the woods with these men, Aemond agreed. And hastily excused himself from the meal. If he was to endure the next day without killing or maiming one of the men, particularly the bastard who had made the crudest comments about Arianwyn, he would need his rest.

And no small amount of prayer.

After an hour of beseeching each of the Seven for the strength he would need to survive the hunt, he, at last, settled into his bed. His hand reached for the scrap of periwinkle cloth he had held close to him for so many years, but it was not there.

He had given it to Arianwyn the day after their wedding.

“I have the sapphire,” he had said, tapping the gemstone with his finger. “It is only fair you have a reminder of our love too. Particularly since I have not had the chance to get you a ring…”

She had been so delighted that even now, as he longed for some reminder of her, Aemond could not bring himself to regret it. So instead, he stood from the bed and retrieved his dagger – secure in its sheath – before sliding back between the sheets.

Aemond fell asleep brushing his thumb over the marks she had left on its hilt.

Arianwyn yawned – again – in the middle of telling Jeyne the very last details she could recall of her first flight as a dragonrider. “After that, King Viserys threw a small feast in my honor. He also had an auroch sent to the Dragonpit as a treat for Emrys. And…”

She was interrupted by yet another yawn, which was soon echoed by Gerold.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, rubbing at her eyes to try and clear their blurriness. “I must have had a little too much wine. I’m afraid I’m quite tired.”

“Nonsense!” Jessamyn said gently. “It is we who have kept you up too late with our thirst for stories. You have had a long day. Of course you are tired.”

Jeyne signaled to a servant, “Perhaps some tea to wake the Princess?”

Gerold groaned and slid his face into his hand. While he loved listening to Arianwyn, he had already fallen asleep in his chair twice, and had been promptly scolded when his snoring interrupted her stories.

“I think,” Jessamyn insisted, grabbing Jeyne’s wrist and lowering it back down, “that we should let her sleep and recover from her journey. We will have more time to talk tomorrow.”

When Jeyne turned back to her godsdaughter to send her to bed, the girl’s eyes were already closed, and she swayed slightly, even as she continued to hold her wine goblet aloft. Gerold, too, had fallen back asleep.

“I am afraid you are right, my dear,” Jeyne whispered to her companion, pressing a brief kiss to her firey red hair. “Forgive me. I’ve wanted to meet her for years, and I let myself get carried away.”

Jessamyn caressed Jeyne’s cheek and smiled sweetly. “It is perfectly understandable, my love. Though, tomorrow you may want to rein your enthusiasm in – just slightly. I am fairly sure she made up many of the details you asked for. Though I cannot blame her. I can’t remember what I wore on my sixth nameday either!”

“Yes, most of that wasn’t actually that important, was it?” Jeyne asked with a wince. “I just want to know everything I missed. Everything Rhea missed…”

They were interrupted when Arianwyn’s hand went slack, and her goblet fell to the floor with a loud clatter. She and Gerold were both startled awake, the old knight stumbling out of his chair and reaching for his sword.

“What happened?” he asked, glancing around blearily.

“Nothing,” Jeyne assured her friend, then looked back at Arianwyn. “Nothing but an old woman being foolish. I’m sorry dear, of course, you should rest.”

The Princess was too tired to do anything but nod gratefully as Gerold offered his arm to lead her to her chambers. But Jeyne and her close companion did not mind. They only smiled fondly as she left the room.

Arianwyn had nearly fallen asleep on her cousin’s shoulder when he opened the chamber doors for her, and she stumbled into the room.

“Servants retrieved your things from Emrys earlier. I am told he did not wake once. Do you need a maid to help you?” Gerold asked. “I can find one to wake and send to you, if you wish.”

“I’ll be fine, but thank you,” she said. Then, mustering the last of her strength, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I missed you very much.”

He gazed warmly at her, cupping her chin in his hands to kiss her hairline. “I missed you, too, Aria. Sleep well, and I will see you tomorrow. There is something I would like to give you before you leave. A wedding present, of sorts.”

Her smile fell at his words, but then she laughed bashfully as her cheeks flushed. “I… I forgot that I would be sleeping alone tonight. I have so quickly become accustomed to having Aemond next to me.”

“Oh, Aria,” Gerold pulled her into a tight embrace. He laughed with her as he stroked her hair, tears once more coming to his grey eyes. “I am so blissfully happy for you.”

“I am blissfully happy, as well, and nearly as tired,” she giggled, pulling away from the embrace.

Gerold patted her cheek once more. “Then I will leave to your rest, my dear.” He took a deep breath, and Arianwyn thought he might cry again. “I love you, Aria. And I am so proud of you. Your mother would be, too.”

She brought a hand over her mouth as she held back a sob. Every bone in her body cried out to hug him again, but she knew that if she did, she would cry through the night and not get any rest. She lowered her hand as she nodded furiously and whispered her thanks as Gerold left and shut the door behind him.

Thankfully, her tears had calmed by the time she removed her dress – Jeyne had been only just convinced to let her remove her armor before her meal. She was too tired to cry and too tired to don a nightgown. She slid into the bed, wearing only her chemise to cover her, and holding a small scrap of periwinkle silk in her hand.

Aemond had given it to her after he noticed it on the floor the day after they were wed, to be a placeholder of sorts until he found her a wedding ring. But she had already decided not to give it back to him, even after she had her ring.

It smelled of Aemond. His scent of parchment and steel thoroughly steeped into the fabric after he kept it for so long in either his breast pocket or under his pillow. And somehow, it seemed to retain some of his warmth, as well.

Arianwyn fell asleep cradling that small scrap of silk to her cheek.

Next Chapter

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66sharkteeth · 7 months

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Hey there, 66! Hope you're doing great. I have been going through your account for the past few hours (this reminds me of that one time I stayed up till 2 am as I appreciated all the artworks on your Instagram) so I know you've heard this several times, but I wanted to say it myself too: your work is wonderful. Believe me, I absolutely love it!

I found City of Blank years ago, during its first season. I read it all, and was quite impressed with the concept, intrigued by the plot, and in love with the characters. But before the next season started, I dropped out of reading Webtoons completely, as far as I remember. Long story short, I revisited Webtoon recently, read a few episodes of City of Blank, and was hooked. Yep. I binge-read the entire rest of the episodes in... three to five days?

So I want to commend you on your amazing concept, beautiful and eye-catching art, plot that keeps me reading late into the night (and at the dining table, between my studies, every single chance I get), the characters (really, they're very well-written — please don't doubt that — and unique, with different stories and personalities, I just love them), and the themes too (incorporated nicely, and it does make me wonder what it means to be a human). The way you write grey characters is one of the best things in your story, I feel.

(I feel like I should give you specific examples of what I like, but I have a tendency of talking too much, as you can see, so this will get way too long, I think... and sorry about the already huge chunks of text. but I hope this make you feel happy somehow)

Alright, now onto my actual questions. They're actually not related to the webcomic itself, since I really can't think of anything interesting... But your story is really good, so here are some queries I have about writing in general.

Do you have any tips for thinking of ideas? About concepts, plot, whatever; how to really get your brain in that mode, you know.

How do you create such vibrant characters? My characters are so similar... there are at least three pairs of nearly-identical characters. And how do you make them flawed yet still so likable?

They are pretty general questions, my apologies. It's just that, you know, since I'm getting to interact with the creator of one of my current favourite stories, why not learn something from them? You can just answer with your personal processes or whatever, I just wished to know how you do it.

I'm really looking forward to the next episode (but take your time, I'm okay with waiting). Pretty sad that this is the last season though. I'll miss it. Could you maybe tell me the estimated date of return and how many more episodes we'll have? Just a rough idea will do too.

That's all. (At this point it'll come as a relief to you 😂) Have a wonderful week ahead, lots of love, and know that there are lots of people who genuinely enjoy your work, you adorable shark! ❤️

(also, don't know why I'm telling you, but this is my first ever interaction on Tumblr with literally anyone) (cool site, I like the easy formatting)

(If you've read this entire thing, thank you. Did I bother you too much? I hope not.)

Hey there! Gonna do my best to answer this since it's been in my inbox for a while, but apologies if it's not the most coherent as my head's still in a bit of a fog from a cold.

First off, thank you for the kind words. I remember they made my day when I first got this ask, but they made it again as I'm waking up w/ a throbbing head ache and coughing my lungs out from the NYCC 2023 Con Crud™.

Anyway, gonna answer your questions the best I can, especially because I'm not entirely sure what the best way to answer these kinds of questions are-

Do you have any tips for thinking of ideas? About concepts, plot, whatever; how to really get your brain in that mode, you know.

I think one thing I like to shape a lot of my concepts around is making something unordinary ordinary. I've talked about it before, but one of the inspirations behind blanks is shadow people, like the ghosts. They're so horrifying and creepy to me, and I thought it would be neat if I made a world where the most creepy and scary thing to me was just...super ordinary and mundane. Like a world where you go into your living room and you're like "Man, that shadow person is still standing in front of my tv. How obnoxious."

A lot of my upcoming ideas kind of focus around this concept too. What if we lived in a world where demons were just every day citizens that went to work and school with us? What if we lived in a world where nobody feared death and was excited for it? What if we lived in a world where half the population was in prison? I can't say every single story idea I have falls into this, but I'd say a lot of them do and I find it's often a kick off point for a lot of my ideas.

How do you create such vibrant characters? My characters are so similar... there are at least three pairs of nearly-identical characters. And how do you make them flawed yet still so likable?

Do I make them likable? Sometimes I can't tell when I look at characters like Lyss haha. Because I think she's a victim of how I write characters, which is just... I dunno, write them like they're real people. Everybody is mad at the decisions Lyss made but... I'm sorry. I'll forever die on the hill that everyone are hypocrites and 90% of people would have done the same thing in her shoes. Only a flawless, benevolent, and frankly kind of stupid, person would have just...let Rex go in those circumstances, evil other half be damned. He was still a danger who proved he couldn't control himself, and the same way you'd probably report your best friend who was driving raving drunk after he just smashed into someone, she reported a dangerous person. Even if people hate her for it, I wrote what any person would have done in that situation. And that's how I try to write all my characters, for better or for worse. A lot of Rex's stupid decisions are dictated by his anxiety and depression, and I know from firsthand experience how being in that state of mind can influence your decisions and overall outlook on life and the people who love you, despite what you may think. I guess my advice is just to give them human flaws. A lot of people don't like Nia because she's manipulative, but I write her as a character who 100% practices what she preaches. Yeah, she "gas lit" Rex into joining Blan Corp, but she also 1000% believed it was the best thing for him.

Desmond probably comes off as the more "flawless" characters, but his own self-loathing and... catholic blank guilt is a big part of what pushed Rex away. In the time when Rex was questioning and hating himself for being a blank, why would he ever go the one person who hates himself for being a blank more than him? When he could go to the person (Nia) who celebrates him being a blank, and reminds him he can be loved for being one.

Anyway, that's enough rambling for now. Hopefully that gives you some to chew on.

#city of blank #rex #desmond #lyss #nia

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agirlandherquill · 2 months

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Your writing is so enchanting, do you have any tips for how to achieve a similar effect when writing?

quite literally just put down a book, one of the best books ive read in my life (ready player two for those of you who read this and are interested, the first one is obviously one of my all time favourites) and i'm in a hyped up mood to write/type so this is perfect timing for this question!

first off, thank you very much! a compliment means so much but for you to go even further and use such a lovely adjective to describe my writing genuinely does warm my heart

now to answer the question that accompanies such a lovely compliment, how do you achieve an enchanting effect when writing?

(insert me stretching out my hands to prepare to rant, really rant, since they're a little stiff from reading for two straight hours which is quite a while for me these days, it's usually an hour a day at most)

in my opinion, to quote one of the cheesiest cliches of all time, you write from the heart, you connect with the moment, the scene, the characters, whatever it is you're doing, and you feel, really feel, you let the emotion flow from your heart and into the words on the page - in my case, sometimes it's long paragraphs with very few full stops, sort of like a ramble it depends on the mood of the bit I'm writing, and sometimes it's adjectives, which brings me on to my next point,

unlike most writing advice I've ever seen when it comes to showing not telling, I prefer to do both, I prefer to describe an emotion, a feeling, a scene with as much detail as possible (which covers the show part) but I also love adjectives, I adore them, they're quite possibly one of my most favourite parts of the English language (or any language really, even fictional (side note - fictional languages are my jam, I love them and I love making glossaries at the backs of my novels too) ) and as far as the tell part goes in writing, as far as I'm concerned, do that too. Give the reader an idea of what your characters are feeling, let them connect, and when they're immersed in your world then the writing really does come across as enchanting,

And continuing the concept of immersing readers in your fictional world, I'm now going to go on a short but simple rant about world-building. Language is a vital part of any story, as is the plot, but without a world for your characters to reside in, that delightful feeling of being a part of that world from the very first page just isn't quite the same. Enchant not only your readers but your characters too, make the world live around them, give completely plot-irrelevant characters their own issues, invent the wackiest of settings or the humblest of ones, anything you can imagine, put it into a world, put it into your story, because it works, it's yours.

now to go onto the most important point of this ramble of mine, if you want to enchant your readers first of all, you have to enchant yourself; this is your writing, your story, your hopes and your dreams, this story is a part of you, and if you write something that doesn't feel quite right, rework it until it does, because this is your story and after all, you're the only one capable of telling it.

so that's the end of my little ramble, thank you for asking and I hope this helps!

~ A Girl and Her Quill

(as usual having a war with my keyboard and capitalising I, because I turned autocorrect off on scrivener a few months ago I tend to forget it's an issue elsewhere but I'll make do. also praying this makes sense because I seldom do read-throughs on my rambles, which we all know :) )

#writeblr

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spacesully · 3 months

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Tips on Writing a Book

(From a writer who's nearly complete with the novel they're writing.) These are opinions/tips that have helped me.

1.) Create a vague outline.

Don't spend too much time on writing out the details of the novel. World-build, create the characters, set up basic themes, and plot. I feel like the best writing comes through when you do minimal outlining. When I began writing The Vigil Experiment, I barely had an outline. I wrote the first chapter on a whim and it felt like the main protagonist was talking to me. It was not until later chapters (5/6) that I started outlining and plotting. I had a clear plot in my mind that I wanted to get down on paper, ensuring that I could identify any plot holes during the editing process. People may disagree with me because they believe it will make the plot sloppy, but that's not always the case. If you know how you want the book to end and the lessons it'll teach, then you have a basic outline. From there, you can write. I like to write with the flow, then put in more plot details through an outline after writing a few chapters into the book. This is just what helps me get my creativity going :)

2.) Practice. Practice. Practice.

People may not believe me when I say the key to writing is practicing it. What do I mean by that? Write short stories! Whether it's fan fics or essays for school, anything that can enhance your writing is worth exploring! Although I don't do it as often as I should, I can't help but notice how much my writing style improves every time I write an essay for college. (Using new vocabulary and transitions that make my writing easier to comprehend. It improves my prose.) I used to write short stories about characters I made up a while ago that have helped me tremendously when it comes down to writing. Practice folks!

3.) Listening to music.

Put on some Luke Hemmings or 5sos related and I'll write for hours. The inspiration music gives me is incredible. Writing a sad scene? Alright, put on some Billie Ellish. The aurora around music has captivated me to write even more. A lot of my inspiration draws from music, not just lyrically. It's the vibe of the music that uplifts me to weave words into sentences in my tales. It's so nice.

4.) Avoid distractions.

This is inevitable, as some of us are prone to get distracted. (Me) To minimize distractions, I turn on do not disturb on my phone for a few hours and put away everything that takes my focus off of my book. Remember to take breaks and be kind to yourself. It's okay to get distracted and wander away sometimes, but don't forget to stay focused on your goal.

5.) Don't edit your first draft. Go with the flow.

I had done this mistake, and I still do it occasionally, but I stop myself before I indulge in it. It's so easy to get lost in edits while reading back while writing. If you continue to do this, you'll never reach the end of the book. Trust me, I know from experience—it took me months just to finish three chapters.

6.) Rewrite IF needed.

If you realize that first or third person doesn't fit the narrative of your story, rewrite! Take your time and no rush to finishing your book. Only do this if you think certain perspectives are a better fit for your story.

7.) Take your time and have confidence in yourself.

Take your time and write at a pace that feels comfortable to you. Take your time and savor the journey instead of rushing towards the finish line! If it takes you years to finish writing a book because of the ups and downs of life, then embrace it! Trust in your writing abilities and avoid putting too much pressure on yourself!

8.) Promote early!

Another topic people may disagree with. The earlier you promote, the more opportunities you will have for success. Once you start outlining your book and have a clear idea of its content, begin promoting snippets and teasers to generate interest. Upload unedited snippets and your journey! I recently viewed a instgrammer whose book is in the works and they've been uploading unedited snippets and their journey of writing the book. Of course, keep it minimal to provide no spoilers, but provide a mini synopsis to captivate the audience in learning more about you and the book.

9.) Create Realatable Charchters.

This is very important! The process of character creation is what hooks people and keeps them engaged in your story. If there's a lot of development, they'll grow attached, especially if your character is relatable, someone the readers can see themselves in. It's my favorite part of the process because I get to observe people on social media and in real life. How can I get someone to relate to my character. I take notes, study behaviors, and even see likeable attributes in people for fictional characters. To help, I do character studies on fictional characters that people adore. Right now I'm doing a character study on Alastor and Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel. So far, this has helped me understand their personalities and analyze how they would respond and what actions they would take in certain situations. Lucifer, with his cunning nature, rarely loses his temper. Alastor, with his hands hidden behind his back and a constant smile on his face, maintains an air of deception to unsettle his enemies. The characters' body language tells the whole story. Lucifer's polite demeanor is evident in his use of phrases like "please," even during moments of frustration, suggesting his upbringing in Heaven. See, character studies can be influential, as you can implement some of these traits into your own. Just don't copy and paste characters, make them unique.

10.) Add as many scenes as you can think of and delete later.

Your first draft is your first draft for a reason. Go overboard, get creative! Get rid of scenes in the editing process.

11.) Have fun!

The most important step is to have fun. Make sure not to exhaust yourself with too much work. Immerse yourself in the boundless sea of creativity. If you start to feel fatigued or uninterested, take a break from your book and focus on something that brings you joy. Come back to it once you rediscover the joy it once brought you. Remember, you want to write and bring your words to life on the page.

Good luck with your novels and writing journeys! These tips are optional, so feel free to disregard them! I wanted to share these as a glimpse into my writing process, in case anyone was interested :)

#tips #writing #writing tips #novel writing #books #novel #book characters #character study

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veritable-trash · 2 years

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The He-Man Chronicles

hahahahahahahah i'm staring at this gif very very normally thank you

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Words: 7.9K(hah i love him your honor)

Prompt this be a request babayyyyy:

[ GRADUAL ] for receiver to slowly undress sender, caressing and kissing every part of them they expose.

[ APPROACH ] our muses haven’t been intimate yet and receiver finally broaches the subject to sender.

Warning: 18+ it's smut, PiV, fingering, oral F and M receiving, Eddie talks a lot(yes that is a warning), drug use so like can be seen as under the influence non-con if you squint, let me know if i missed anything i am still new at this whole thing heh :)))

A/N: OK YALL THIS IS DIRECTLY FROM MY REQUESTS, a most beautiful anonymous individual dropped this off as a gift to me and my brain went WILD. I am very sorry to anon if this isn't the character you had in mind since it is my first time writing for him, but I just got like mad inspired so if you want me to write this prompt with a different character or if you didn't like my interpretation you go ahead and tell me and i will very much get on fixing that just please allow me this one sin 😌 it's been a minute since i've been this obsessed with an individual and eddie has just got me wrapped around his little fingers now doesn't he!!! me and eddie have kinda similar hair and both love weed and i think that's hot and i really wanted to get this done before the new episodes drop because i am TERRIFIED of what is to become of my baby. ya literally freaking out, obsessed, want to die, love him so so so so so so so much who am i. again giving this anon the biggest hugs and most aggressive forehead kisses literally ever because they gave me the inspiration to do this and be slutty and emotional on the MAIN! i LOVE them for allowing me this! so please enjoy send me all your eddie disgusting beautiful delicious thoughts and good luck to all my eddie girlies, tonight we ride 🤠

ok apologies i know this is already way too fucking long kill me with a butter knife but i have to point to @chaseadrian and @inklore who are doing GODS WORK with their eddie writing please i beg go read, it is so good ok sorry i'll shut up please enjoy!

also minimally edited i had to stop looking at it so forgive me please 🫠

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It always started like this.

Eddie brought the weed, you rolled the joints, and then cartoons for hours.

You and him were so simple, like a river flowing to sea, a course already predetermined and known that it was hard picturing life without him sometimes.

You’d been rolling together side by side since 6th grade english where the two of you made your teacher cry and then spent all of detention, heads together, trying to come up with the greatest revenge plot of all time. She’d been a menace and you and Eddie had had enough of it. But the revenge never came to be and that didn’t really end up mattering. You’d found your best friend.

He was the confidant you’d always wanted. The person who never shied away from any conversation. Eddie wanted to talk and he wanted to listen and he just wanted to know every fucking thing about you. His eyes read you inside and out like a creased and worn out paperback, soft from how often those eyes have traversed those pages. You were soft on him.

Long story short, that was how vengeful 6th graders turned blood bonded confidants turned into the drug dealing freaks of Hawkins High.

Somewhere along the way you both realized weed made shit a hell of a lot more fun, and a little extra pocket money never hurt. Like everything else between you two it had become your thing. You and Eddie had spent hours one fateful summer perfecting your joint rolling skills, or as Eddie would call it “doobie time” and the rest was history.

You’d never minded being labeled the freaks, never minded that the jocks were incessant about their hatred of you two, Hellfire, honestly anyone that wasn’t like them. Because Eddie was always right at your side ready to knock em down a few pegs and then erase any hurt with his goofy smile that made everything feel just a bit lighter.

Even though you didn’t get DnD and refused to play, he’d always made sure you felt some level of included. He’d nicknamed you Fae because you reminded him of some faerie princess he’d written into a campaign they’d been doing at the time and even gave you an honorary Hellfire t-shirt. The shirt had smelled like him and it had made you swoon but you refused to read into it any of the sweet gestures and delicious smelling shirts. That was just how Eddie was.

Eddie was your rock and you were his safe place to land and in so many ways it was hard for either of you to spend too much time apart. And so you had made a promise early in your friendship that Friday nights were claimed for the two of you. A ritual of sorts to let go of the bullshit of the week and just be. You and Eddie and joints and He-Man.

“Honestly speaking, He-Man is my ideal man. I mean the bob, the bangs, the voice? It’s just a package deal that cannot be ignored.”

Eddie snorted beside you, his lips turning up as his heavy lidded eyes scan your face. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Just looking at you.

His lips are wrapped around joint number 3? 4? And it’s hard not to zero in on his mouth, the softness and fullness of his lips sinking your mind somewhere warm and molten. You aren’t even sure what time it is anymore and your eyes are half open at best, but somehow the fog clouding the space behind your eyes clears just enough for Eddie to be the only thing visible. Your only real focus.

“Honestly speaking Fae, no one asked if you thought He-Man was the ideal man, but the fact that you just willingly gave up that information is something more pertinent for us to discuss. Please tell me, what is it about the most powerful man in the universe that truly speaks to you?”

“Oh shut up. You’re all jokes and honestly most of them are awful, sorry to break the news.”

You shove at his shoulder and ever the drama queen, he falls back, sprawling out on the carpet, hands clutching at his heart. His curls fan out around him, twisting and curving, framing his head like a halo, and there’s that edge to his eyes, a sort of golden fire that has been coming to the surface more and more when you’re together. It’s a sharpness of something secret that you can’t seem to place.

“Ah! You wound me! Sticks and stones and words all hurt me the same you know.”

“Eddie I swear to god you are a fucking nutcase sometimes.”

Your mind is swimming in the liquid brown of his eyes as he pears up at you from the floor. His laugh caresses your ears as smoke curls from his lips and he blinds you. He looks so soft, every part of him, his eyes, his hair, his t-shirt, seem gilded in a warm honey glow you’re fairly certain is due to the drugs curling around your synapses. But even if it is the weed, you’re still fairly certain curling up into his side would feel like drowning in warm, cottony sheets fresh out the dryer. It has your head spinning and hazy with feelings you haven’t yet defined in your head. Probably still too afraid to figure it out, but holy shit is he beautiful.

“Wait what did you say?”

Oh fuck. Did you seriously just fucking say that out loud?

Shit. This is exactly why you stick to two joints, max. As soon as you went past that your tongue gets heavy with all the words you’re always too anxious to say and proceeds to catapult every whim that flits across your brain out into the world for anyone and everyone to hear.

And today, delightfully, it got to be Eddie.

“I was just- I just- Well what do you think I said?”

“Well this is a tough one, you know with you sitting so far away from me and all, but I believe I heard you say something about me being beautiful? Possibly? Maybe?”

He props himself up on his elbows and scoots closer to you eyes brimming with question and hope? It’s hard to tell with the smoke filling the air, your lungs, your brain, but you almost feel like of everything, hope is the clearest. His tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip, his teeth just catching onto the pillowy flesh there, and you have to focus on intaking breath or you’re fairly certain you’d forget to breath all together with how he’s looking at you.

“Uh well yes I-uh ya I mean come on of course you’re beautiful I mean you have to know that! The cheerleaders that buy weed from us pretend that you’re a gross freak but I heard Kristina in calc talking about how she thinks you’ve got a lot going on down stairs and how she’d really really like to find out. You know, everyone loves a bad boy.”

“Do you?”

“Wait wha- what?”

“Do you like a bad boy?”

That gives you pause. He’s completely ignored the fact that Kristina Taylor wants to see his dick and that just didn’t really track in your brain. She was probably the hottest girl at Hawkins and all the guys in Hellfire wax very poetically, at length, about how nice her tits are on at least a daily basis. Except Eddie, but you’d chalked that up to his assumed “manners”, and that he was just being respectful and hiding his lust.

And to make matters even more confusing his eyes are shifting, darkening to more of a chestnut brown with shades of need that you have a sneaking suspicion have zero to do with Kristina. Because he’s looking directly at you again, like he has been doing quite a lot these past few weeks, and it’s making you sweat.

You can feel your pulse in your fingertips as they press harder into the ground as if you’re trying to steady yourself from this giant shift happening between you and Eddie in his bedroom.

With He-Man on in the background.

It was all very discombobulating.

“I mean well ya I guess so, but don’t flatter yourself E. I’ve seen you shoot milk out your nose honestly too many times to count and that concerns me. Who knows, it could be a health condition! Maybe you have the weirdest milk related illness of all time, really gonna beat all those losers who’re lactose intolerant. They’ve got nothing on you.”

Eddie stays quiet even as his lips twitch up again into a soft grin. If there’s one thing Eddie is a pro at it’s seeing straight through your bullshit diversions.

But he doesn’t call you out on it this time. He just pushes himself the rest of the way up scooting himself closer to where you’re sprawled out against the side of his bed. There’s a precision to his movements tinged with caution as if he’s afraid to spook you.

It’s then you realize how your shoulders have hitched up and your fingers are curled into the carpet. Knuckles white and bones groaning, you must look like a corned animal.

He finally bridges the gap between you, his hand coming up, the joint still burning between his fingertips, smoke curling and twining around itself up towards the ceiling. Your fingers brush at the exchange and you see his chest twitch with a stuttered breath at the same time you hear your own catch. It feels fizzy and light as it skitters up your arm over your shoulder and down your spine. You have to restrain the shiver.

Eddie looks no less affected.

Your lips wrap around the filter of the joint and you inhale deep, needing something to distract from the headiness filling the air threatening to pull you under. It fails almost instantly.

The smoke floating from between your lips seems to only pull Eddie in closer, his eyes dropping down to watch the smoke curl from between your lips up into your nose. His lips part and you can see how his chest expands on the inhale, as if he’s trying to suck the smoke swirling out of your lungs straight into his.

You quickly inhale another puff and then pass it back to him, avoiding his touch at all costs and averting your eyes from his gaze that feels like its stripping you bare. Eddie’s rings glint in the low light of his bedroom as he taps the ash off the joint and stubs it out into the ashtray. His head turns back to look at you and he slowly slides himself to sit in front of your crossed legs, his frame now blocking out He-Man, the only distraction you had left.

“Hey. Hey Fae what’s going on up there? I know this weeds strong but you’re leaving me. Where ya going?”

There’s a sort of stillness wrapping itself around your ankles and crawling up your calves. You can see it in his eyes, he wants you to ask, ask what this tension, this thickness filling the air is all about. And he wants to tell you, desperately, wants to break the dam and let everything spill out all over the floor so it’s finally not suffocating you both.

If only you'd ask.

So you decide you will.

“E what’s going on here? I can’t with you looking at me like that. And don’t even ask me what that means because if I knew then I would tell you but I have no fucking clue and everything feels so confusing and fuck you weren’t kidding this weed is really, really strong.”

The words are tumbling, skittering, bursting from between your lips and it takes everything you have to suck in a breath and stop the word vomit from steering into territory that was much too scary to verbalize. Though it feels like it’s already sprinting in that direction, like a runaway train that has no chance of stopping, the only thing left to do is get ready for the carnage.

You peak up at him from beneath your lashes and his eyes are open with an aching vulnerability as if he’s letting you look into his soul. As if he really, really wants you too dive into his eyes and see it all.

His hand wraps around your ankle and the sear of his warm skin interwoven with the biting chill of his silver rings shoots up your leg and settles in your core, hot and torrid. You can barely breath, trying fruitlessly to hide your gasps for breath from Eddie’s ever watchful eyes.

The two of you haven’t been able to break eye contact and the temperature of the room starts to climb quickly like a kettle about to boil over. He drags your foot into his lap, his other hand curling around the juncture of your knee, squeezing just so and your sharp intake of breath sounds like a bomb in the hush of the room. His eyes flicker down to your mouth and they darken to a shade that has your stomach twisting itself into knots.

God this is too much, he still hasn’t spoken and you think you might start melting into the carpet if he doesn’t do something fast. What that something is you’re not totally sure but you’d love to find out, and soon.

“Fae, I ca- I’m about to say something really stupid but here goes nothing. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you. I just- Fuck do I want you and you’re my best friend but also the person I think about when my hand is wrapped around my dick, which sorry that's way too much information but honestly it’s just really hard to think around you sometimes when I want you in every way humanly possible and it feels like you’re always just out of reach.”

“But you also have to know, have to believe me when I say if you don’t feel the same, I will never bring this up again. Ever again. But I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Not when you’re looking at me like that, and I can see how you’re out of breath just like me and it feels like you might be losing it just as bad.”

Your vision seems to glaze over and then flicker back as he talks, the gravel and need in his tone setting off all of your synapses and sends you flying into a deep-rooted, aching lust. The feelings and want that have been simmering under layers and layers of fear and dismissal, now breaking through the cracks and fissures Eddie’s proclamations have unleashed upon all your safeguards. You feel like a volcano about to explode, like you’re this close from ripping yourself apart with everything building and building and building within you.

He falls into you like his words are propelling him forward, the momentum shoving you both into a new chapter. His chest pushes up against the front of your leg, his chin hovering just above your knee, and you can feel his chest rising and falling through his soft cotton t-shirt, the heat of him seeping into your bare skin. His eyes are flitting across your features, eyes, nose, lips, chin, cheeks, and your face heats with his focus and attention.

He’s so close you can almost count his eyelashes, see the the lines in his lips where they’ve gotten slightly chapped. One of his crossed legs stretches open to rest against yours, and now you’re caged in on both sides, his hand still gripping your knee, squeezing every so often so you don’t forget that he’s there.

You feel like you might just lunge at him at any moment, like a rubber band stretched till it’s breaking point. One more word from him and you might just throw yourself off the cliff edge, you’re not totally sure if you’d even want to stop yourself.

“I- well I guess I might be feeling the same way, and honestly speaking, I’ve been thinking about you too. Or whatever.”

The spell finally breaks and your eyes drop instantly to the hand wrapped around your knee, his eyes finally getting the better of you. You’d just said so much, it all feels too much, and yet you don’t want to stop, because for some reason it seems like everything might turn out the way your heart really, truly wants it to.

But you’re absolutely fucking terrified nonetheless.

Eddie stays silent, but he moves almost instantly, the hand around your ankle gliding up your calf before sliding around your neck, into your hair, and his thumb catches under your chin, lifting till you’re forced to look at him.

It’s like sparklers are going off in your belly, chest, head, cunt. He’s looking at you as if he wants to inhale you like the smoke that’s been rolling around between you two all night. You feel consumed by him and this moment and the smirk crossed with a timid smile laced across his lips makes your heart squeeze with a want that’s starting to twist into something almost feral.

“You know what I think is really crazy? The fact that you know I like you, and I know you like me, and even though all I can think about sometimes is kissing you, I still haven’t kissed you yet. That just seems like a real shame if you ask me.”

His voice has dropped into a gravelly rumble, though still lilting in the way that Eddie is always joking, always light. Always your Eddie. His eyes are one and the same, a darkening brown, yet twinkling with an excitement and want that sends goosebumps skittering across your flesh.

He’s leaning in closer now, and his hand shifts, thumb stroking at your cheek as his fingers press into the skin behind your ear and further into your hair. You instinctively lean into his hand, skull pushing back against his fingers, wanting him to card them deeper into your hair and pull.

“E, please kiss me.”

“Dang, if you just gave me a second I was abou-“

Your lips touch down on his, cupping the plush of his lower lip, muffling the words leaving his tongue. You both freeze for a breath, until Eddie groans from somewhere deep in his chest and everything gets set ablaze.

His fingers card into your hair, pressing into your scalp, as his hand wraps around your knee and tugs your leg out to wrap around his hip. His body crowds into you, and your other leg naturally unfolds, winding around him till you have to shift up and into his lap.

It all happens in what feels like a heart beat and now you’re sitting nose to nose with the boy of possibly your dreams, and he’s looking at you with such softness and such reverence that it leaves you spinning.

Emotions are painted across his features and especially his eyes that are peering into yours, trying to read every one of your thoughts. And you want him to. You want him to see the yearning, the lust, the need. You would be willing to strip yourself bare for him and he for you.

His hands squeeze at your waist, pinky fingers hooking under the seam of your shirt to press into your bare skin, and the touch swirls around your body, spreading through you until your hips can’t help but roll into his and—

Your eyes lock and you can feel him. Pressing up against the zipper of his jeans, into the cradle of your thighs, and even through the two layers of denim, you can fell him. It sends your thoughts tumbling down, down, down to the molten center of you that’s been burning and churning since you two light up that first joint.

Eddie sucks in a breath, lips pressed shut, and a light whine cracks in the back of his throat as if it’s been torn out of him. His nose bumps into yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek as his lips move to your jaw, down to your neck.

A keen rises to the tip of your tongue as he licks at your pulse, thick and hot, teeth nipping softly in its wake. His hands are slowly starting to guide your hips, rocking you forward and back over the zipper of his jeans. Every pass over your clit leaves you whimpering out into the humid air and your fingers tangle in his hair, trying fruitlessly to ground yourself in the silky strands.

His breath puffs out against your throat as he bumps his forehead into your jaw affectionately, and you can feel the press of his teeth as he smiles into your throat.

“Fae, baby, I wa-want to see all of you, is that ok? Let me undress you, I want to make you feel so good. Please.”

He’s begging you, tone needy and gruff, as he nuzzles into your neck like some love sick puppy and you can’t feel, think, smell, taste, hear anything but him.

“God, yes, please, please yes.”

Your lips latch onto each others again, a burning intensity singeing the edges of every torrid press of lips. The damn has finally broken and you’re both frantic to feel. An all consuming ache to be skin to skin, devouring you both.

His hands slide around your thighs, settling down to cup your ass as he shifts up onto his knees, lifting you those final few inches to sit you up on his bed. The shift in angle leaves him gazing up at you if only for a breath, his eyes welling with reverence, as if praying before an altar. You can feel how hot you are between your legs and you wonder if he can feel it too. Feel how you’re burning up for him from the inside out.

His lips draw back a breath, dancing over yours, just brushing past, only to pull away every time you desperately try to fall into him. A dizziness is filling your head, leaving you dazed, eyes glazing over with how he’s leaving you on a razors edge. Touching you, but not quite, every pass just shy of the touch you’re truly aching for.

“Baby lift your arms for me ok? Let me see you.”

He ducks his head down as his fingers catch on the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging the fabric up the skin of your sides, yours ribs, fingers pressing in every so often, as though memorizing the flesh. His mouth follows shortly behind, imprinting the shape of his kisses onto the skin next to your belly button, over your ribs, onto your sternum, between your collarbones, your neck, and finally returning to your lips, your shirt disappearing somewhere far behind him though you seriously couldn’t care less.

You stay there, tongues tangling and swirling around each other, a small moment of slowness breaking through the chaos. Your nails catch against the back of his shirt and he helps you pull it off of him, every movement syrupy and soft. It’s like you’re drowning in this little blink of time.

His bare skin is a furnace under your touch, seeping warmth into your chest and heart, heating you slowly until all of a sudden you’re burning up for more. You whine onto his tongue as your fingers twist a little tighter into his hair, showing him you need more because you’ve definitely lost the ability to speak, words now a foreign concept.

“Fuck, you need more ya? Is that what you want Fae? You want more?”

All you can manage is a few mhms as his lips suck hard at your throat, stinging, surely leaving a mark. But you want him to mark you, dripping at the thought of waking up tomorrow to small purple kisses littering your skin.

You grind your hips against his chest, seeking some sort of friction before you self combust. You’re gasping against his neck as he continues his assault on yours. The heat licking up your spine is driving you almost to madness, the pulse between your thighs incessant and all consuming an almost roar in your ears. You think he might be saying something, whispering it against your skin but your brain is too focused on everything else you can’t be sure. It’s like you’ve decided to ignore everything other than the need to feel him stretching you open, pressing you down onto his bed and letting you feel every inch of him.

Eddie’s whines coats your lips and you finally notice that he’s moving too, hips grinding into the side of his bed trying desperately to find some kind of relief. Your nails claw at his back as you try and get him even closer, the steady rock of his body into yours lighting you up like a pyre.

Your lips can barely touch, pants and gasps and moans breaking the contact with every breath, the slow roll of both of your hips pushing you both higher and higher towards something blisteringly white-hot.

His fingers latch onto the button of your jean shorts, popping it open and pulling down the zipper, hands spreading out to wrap around your hips pawing at the fabric, trying desperately to rid you of the offending material. His lips settle against the valley between your tits and press, pushing you back till you’re sprawled out on the bed under him. You lift your hips and you both are finally able to wrestle the denim down your legs and off into the ether that is the rest of Eddie’s bedroom.

You could be in Mordor right now and you would have no fucking clue.

“You are so fucking beautiful, you know that? Like holy shit, are you beautiful.”

Eddie’s lips press into the swell of each of your tits, licking at the edge of your bra playfully.

“May I?”

“You may.”

It shatters you in the best way that even though you both are about to fuck like there is no tomorrow, are finally going to act on feelings that have been growing for years, you’re still just two idiots. The grins and giggles you share so tender and yet so depraved.

Your bra follows the exact same path as your shirt and pants, the ether consuming it or maybe it’s burning in Mount Doom.

Eddie’s hands cup your breasts, thumbs just barely brushing over your nipples, and your stomach jolts. He settles your quivering muscles with a kiss just below your ribs and then he sucks your breasts into his mouth.

The heat of his wet tongue barrels through you, hips canting up against him, a groan crackling and breaking out of your chest. The blunt edges of his teeth dig into your flesh and you are definitely about to loose your mind. No doubt about it because he is driving you up the wall with every stroke of his tongue.

“Eddie, fuck how does this feel so good? How are you so good at this? You have so much explaining to- fu-uck.”

Another drag of his teeth over your other nipple has you shutting up instantly. You don’t care how many people he’s fucked, who they are, where they are, fuck em because Eddie’s currently shredding you apart and it’s tortured bliss.

His laugh is muffled as he sucks another mark onto your flesh, and the vibration of it ripples over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. He continues his assault, switching between tongue, lips and teeth, never letting you settle on one sensation for too long. Your cunt clenches around nothing, heightening your need to have him filling you, zeroing your brain in on the need to feel his cock in your hands, in your mouth, in your cunt.

Your hands drop from the death grip you’ve had on his hair, and Eddie has the audacity to whine, sinking his teeth in just a tad bit harder in protest, but you can’t not feel him. You think you might die if you don’t wrap your hands around his cock this very instant.

Eddie’s grunt of surprise is quickly followed by a long deep groan as your hands finally snake their way down to palm at his length through his jeans. His hips stutter as he rocks into your palm, finally letting you feel what will soon be splitting you in half. The flip in control is thrilling, and you squeeze him just a bit harder, drinking up the noises pouring from his lips.

Your teeth drag down his throat in time with you undoing his jeans, and Eddie is frantic as he stands on shaky legs to kick them off, sending them once again into the volcano.

He’s mesmerizing, hair falling around his face as he looks down at you, eyes a dark mahogany with how worked up he is for you, a shy smile gracing his beautiful features, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the tent in his boxers and the spot of wetness darkening the navy cotton. He almost looks bashful but then he sees your tongue wet your bottom lip and how your hooded eyes are drinking in the sight of him and the nervousness dissipates.

“Fae, you know you could take a picture, I heard it lasts longer.”

Your eyes snap up to his and he’s clearly joking but there’s a slight crease between his brow and you can tell he’s about two seconds away from snapping, nearly panting above you.

“Eddie, if you wanted me to suck your dick all you had to do was ask.”

He groans, fingers and rings tangling into your hair as he angles your head up to look at him. His thumb presses into your bottom lip, forcing them to part and your tongue brushes against his skin. He stares straight into your eyes as your hands wrap around the waistband of his boxers and pull down, your eyes dropping to watch as he finally gets laid bare before you.

You whine, it just can’t be helped because his cock is fucking fantastic. Never did you think you’d ever describe a mans cock as fantastic but here you were doing exactly that. He’s thick but not overwhelmingly so, just a little past the point of comfort, enough that you know you’ll feel him tomorrow and ache for him all over again.

A bead of precum leaks from the tip and without a thought you lean down and lick it into your mouth. Eddie’s whole body twitches, rings biting into your scalp as he tries to keep his eyes open to watch you taste him for the first time.

He tastes fucking divine.

“Fuck, Fae you can’t just say shit like that jesus fucking christ you’re driving me insane.”

Whoops, guess the weed is still in effect leaving you loose lipped, or maybe it was just his cock. Honestly it could be either or.

You don’t merit his words with a response, instead sliding down to the floor between his legs and licking up the underside of him, hand wrapping around the base. His hand falls to the mattress behind you, his strength giving out at feeling your lips wrapped snug around him and his cock jolts deeper into your throat causing you to gag and sputter.

He pulls out quickly, apologies rushing out of him but you stop him as quickly as he pulls out, sucking him back between your lips and even deeper this time, letting him feel your throat struggle with the length of him.

Curses punch out of his lungs as you work him over, drool pooling on your tongue as you take him into your mouth over and over and over again. You don’t know how long you’re down there for but it’s nowhere near long enough before he’s hooking his hands under your arms and throwing you back onto the bed.

“Jesus, if you thought I had some fucking explaining to do I am going to need some answer real quick about where the fuck you learned how to do that. But god just look at you, so fucking pretty and all for me.”

The combination of his words and watching him drop to his knees between your spread thighs leaves you somehow nervous, your hands coming up to cover your eyes from his blistering stare. His eyes feel like they’re burning you, torching your skin with unbridled need.

You peak out at him from between your fingers and find him smiling at you, head leaning against the inside of your knee, his hair tickling your skin. It’s almost too intimate, the change between depravity and sweetness jarring and heart warming. You’re shy yet sure, even in these moments of such deep vulnerability where it feels like your heart is just out in the open for him to take or destroy, because you know he’s in the same boat, on the same page, heart live and beating on the table right next to yours.

You watch each other for a second, some level of safety found in only seeing one another through the slits between your shaky fingers. Still enough hidden away to make it feel safe. His eyes dance with that same vibrancy that Eddie always has simmering just under the surface, but it feels so much better now that it’s pointed at you.

That you are the one making Eddie glow like this.

A rumbling groan shakes itself out of Eddie as his eyes flutter down and land on your panties and the damp spot growing where they cover your entrance. You can feel how sopping wet you are, have been, and Eddie leans forward eyes zeroing in, his hands slowly tracking up your thighs. His mouth traces its way up your skin, incisors snagging every so often, until his mouth is just inches from your core. He presses his fingers into the meat of your thighs and pushes you open, exposing your clothed cunt to the cold air and his hot mouth.

You can feel it, your wetness catching the puffs of air escaping from between his lips. You can see your thighs twitching with the lightness of the sensation and Eddies eyes darken, flicking up to catch you drinking in his every movement, every change of expression.

He’s intoxicating to you.

His tongue flicks out and traces you through the fabric, the touch muted yet somehow all consuming. Your hips jolt, hard, and Eddie barely avoids getting his jaw knocked. He preens a bit at seeing how worked up he’s gotten you, but graciously doesn’t leave you needy for long.

He dips back, his hands dragging your panties down your legs, finally laying you bare, and his breaths fan across your pussy, ghosting over the newly exposed skin. You swear you almost cum right there.

Your eyes lock again and he finally licks into you. Deep and hot and so wet, it sounds almost too vulgar, an d yet shivers race up and down your spin sending your back arching up to the ceiling. He dives into you and holy fuck is it the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

His arms lock across your hips to keep you under him and then he eats your pussy with abandon. He’s humming and groaning into your fluttering cunt and ever vibration from his tongue makes you see stars and feel like fireworks are bursting under your skin. You can feel your orgasm building itself up brick by molten brick in the pit of your stomach and it’s hard to hold still, to keep quiet when you feel as though you might explode into a million tiny little pieces.

You sound pathetic, moans breathy and more so just pitiful gasps for air. His tongue pushes at your entrance, and you keen as your thighs flex around his ears. There are only stars behind your lids and you grapple at his curls to try and keep yourself grounded in some reality as you careen out into god knows fucking where.

The mix of licking and sucking and flicking and swirling has you dizzy and so undone that you almost don’t notice his finger pressing into you until the stretch and the iciness of his rings sucks the breath out of your lungs. You double over, shuddering and gushing at the push and stretch and million and one sensations hurtling across all of your senses, groaning out Eddie’s name desperately.

“Oh fuck, yes, does that feel good? Fuck your pussy feels so good, so tight fuck, can I fuck you, please god can I-?”

“Jesus yes god yes, Eddie, please, please, please.”

The two of you are falling apart, tumbling head first into something earth shattering. Your eyes can barely stay open to watch him, eyes rolling back with every deep press of his fingers.

He pumps his finger in deep, thumb catching to circle at your clit and you roll your hips up into his palm, shivering and stuttering with every movement. He’s towering over you, mouth parted, awe scrawled across his face as his tongue darts out every so often to skate over his lips, as though he can still taste you there as he watches himself finger fuck you.

You whine far too loud when he pulls his finger out of you, your eyes snapping open, lips ready to beg him to fill you again, but his groan cuts you off and you watch, shell-shocked, as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking you off of his skin as his eyes roll back, your name a garbled whisper around his digits. Your hips grind against air, now absolutely unhinged with how much you’re aching for him.

His fingers leave his mouth with a soft pop, and he stares you down as he drops his hand to push two fingers inside you, curling and pressing up into the soft heart of you. Every press hurtling a whine out of your lungs and you can feel how he’s working your over, building you up to some great peak you can’t see quite yet in the fog of lust.

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing till all of sudden the fog clears as though it’s been burned away by some ball of flame and you’re launched off the edge, a moment of hang time and confusion lasting for just a blink before you’re shaking and moaning and cursing up to the heavens. Your orgasm rams through you, blowing everything to dust and ash and Eddie has to practically wrestle you down onto the bed with how hard you buck in his hold.

Your hips are stuttering on his fingers as he works you through wave after wave. You can’t seem to decide if it’s too much or not enough, hips jumping at every pass over your sensitive clit yet still coming back for just one more lick of pained-laced paradise. Your chest is heaving with exertion and you can feel Eddie’s lips pressing into the soft skin of your stomach, a whisper of your name pulling your eyes back down to his.

His fingers twist around yours pulling your hand up to his lips for a soft, wet kiss. You drag both of your hands up to your mouth kissing over the spot he just touched and you can taste yourself on your skin. Your thighs are still shaking under his forearms but your heart rate final starts to slow as you gaze into his pretty eyes, your lips lifting into the softest of smiles.

"You’re going soft on me Fae. Who would have guessed you’d get all love-sick puppy dog eyes on me, very out of character for my High Fae Princess of the Seven Realms.”

“Eddie you little piece of shit, I swear to god!"

You start to sit up, trying to pull your hand away to properly shove at him but Eddie’s quick and your body is still in post-orgasm haze. He snatches up your wrists and pins them above your head, crawling up tills his eyes line up with yours and you can’t ignore the Cheshire Cat grin plastered across his face. He’s acting like he’s somehow trapped you with his “wit” and “brute strength”, but you both know you didn’t really put up that much of a fight.

His eyes soften, milk chocolate swirls hypnotizing you, as he peers down at you like some precious memento.

“So we’re doing this ya? I-I mean not just like the sex part, though that’s been fucking rad, but you know everything else?”

“E are you asking me to be your girlfriend right now? As we lie here, naked, you decide this is the perfect moment? You’ve really got some sense of timing there, I’ll give you that.”

Eddie scowls at you, his face flushing the most adorable shade of pink and you’re quick to put him out of his misery, stretching up to close those final few inches between your lips. The kiss is soft, adoration passed between your lips as you show him your answer.

“Of course we’re doing this Eddie, I don’t think I could imagine life without you most days.”

His hand reaches over to his bedside table, lips moving to devour yours as he rummages through the drawer in search of a condom. You watch as he rips open the foil with his teeth and sheaths himself, and it’s almost embarrassing how fucking hot it all is. Your nails claw into his shoulders, even that little bit of space too much for you to bear.

He rocks into the bowl of your hips, the head of his cock passing over your clit leaving you both shivering into each other until he finally catches against your aching entrance and presses just the tip of him in, a whoosh of air leaving both of your lungs as you feel the heat of each other for the first time.

“Baby I gotta be honest, I’m not gonna last I’m not even inside of you yet and I think I’m losing my fucking mind so I’m going to apologize in advance for busting way way way too quick. Please just, you know, take it as a compliment because you are hot as fuck.”

He’s rambling against your lips as he saws back and forth pressing just a tad deeper with every thrust. If your head wasn’t absolutely empty aside from the need to feel his cock splitting you, you would maybe even blush with how sweet the entirety of this situation is, but right now you need Eddie more than the air in your lungs.

“Jesus Eddie I don’t fucking care, I’m fucking losing my mind, please just fuck m-“

You choke out a garbled moan as he slides all the way into you, hips nestling together, his stomach brushing over yours. His jaw drops open and his lower teeth catch under your jaw as he gasps against your skin, choking out the filthiest whine you’ve ever heard. Your cunt spasms around him and the whine sharpens into a keen.

He pulls back until just the head of him is still inside of you and his eyes drop to watch as he pushes back in, his arms almost buckling at the sight. Your foreheads press together as you watch him saw in and out, cock glinting in the smoky light of the room with how fucking wet you are.

It all starts to build so quickly, the heat of his cock triggering something deep in your chest and your core. You can see the freight train in the distance and know there’s no way to stop it, just have to hope you can prepare yourself for impact.

He’s panting into your neck, whispering your name, how good you feel, whispering words your brain barely has the capacity to hear with how good he’s making you feel. His hips are already faltering with every push inside of you, cock already so sensitive from all of the building to this moment. Your body also can’t decide whether you’re too overworked, or if you need more friction to finish you.

The latter seems to win out.

Even in his supposed stupor, Eddie somehow still puts you first. His hand finds its way back between your legs, and his thumb settles to press firm circles over your clit. Your legs start to shake even as your arms lock up around Eddie’s neck, too many sensations taking over and your body needing to cling to something for dear life.

His lips find their way under your ear and as he scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin you cum.

Your body caves in on itself, muscles locking up around him from the pleasures he’s choking you with. You have no sense of time or sound or sight, no clue what sounds you might be making, what you must look like, everything burning away until all that’s left is wave after wave of shivering pleasure.

“Holy fuck.”

That you do hear, Eddie’s lips still right below your ear, his teeth sinking in with the force of your orgasm. Your pussy clamps around him and he can barely move, can only feel your heartbeat against his cock. It’s like a sirens call to him and he’s fucking gone. The softness of your body and the tightness of your cunt breaking his last shreds of control.

He follows right behind you, trembling hips rocking unsteadily into yours till it becomes just a bit too much. Your contractions of your cunt draining him till his visions sparkles with white dots of light.

The bed bounces as he drops partially on you and partially on the bed, trying to not squish you while still remaining as close as physically possible. His nose skims along your throat and you sigh, deep and loud, making sure he can hear you, can hear how happy you are.

“Mmmm that good, huh?”

“You know, I don’t think it was too bad.”

His hand squeezes at your waist and you’re reminded for probably the thousandth time that night how fucking pretty he is. How you can practically taste the sweetness of his heart in the air. He’s looking at you like you’ve always dreamed someone would, and it’s only made better by the fact you never thought it would be Eddie.

Never dreamed that you would get to have this.

He tips his head up and his lips brush against your jaw, his tongue lazily licking at your damp skin. Your whole body hums. He presses another kiss into your lips and it tastes of a thank you. It seems you’re both a little bit in awe of your luck these days.

You share giddy smiles, eyes still droopy, though this time from the sex and not the weed. The feeling settling inside the four chambers of your heart is something you could really get used to, and you hope beyond hope that it’ll become as familiar as the curl of Eddie’s hair.

You’re pretty sure it will.

once again i love him, my new fixation god help me, feedback is always so lovely and so appreciated :)))))

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction

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human-still-developing · 2 years

Text

Constructive Criticism: A Guide

Hey everyone :)) Here's a quick guide that I've created for giving others constructive criticism. This is by no means 'all inclusive' and you should of course use your own judgment before sending anyone feedback of any kind, but here a few general rules that I use when writing con crit (as a professional editor) <3

For those wondering, don't worry, I'm still working on another SoC rant and some more poetry but this is just an interesting aside I thought I might post :DD

So without any further ado, the concrit rules:

Firstly and most importantly, don't provide constructive criticism unless the writer has explicitly asked for feedback. If you're asked by a friend to 'let me know what you think' -- this is generally an opening for support, rather than concrit

Be sure to read the text as an objective piece of work, with a clear frame of mind. These may seem like obvious stipulations, but avoid reading anything for the couple of hours before you read the work to prevent your mind being swayed to a particular judgment (e.g. reading a famous poet's work might make you more critical of a novice writer's first poetry). On that point, remember:

You are not here to give judgement! Avoid stating any terms like "Overall, this piece of work is good enough for ...." or "I think that I would rate this work a ../10". Your job is to provide an analysis of the text in front of you, not its value or worth

Okay, so now to the actual concrit. Lets say you've read this person's work and you're ready to give your feedback:

Always open up with your interpretation of the work so that the writer can see what exactly you are thinking as you are analysing. This statement could be something as simple as "The poem that you've sent me was an evocative teenage love story intersected with romantic poetry to show the everlasting nature of love". In the case that you have mis-interpreted the text, this allows the writer to take your further evaluations with a grain of salt and also gives them a subtle nudge to perhaps improve the clarity of their message :)

List your points in size order. What I mean by that is start with the easiest thing that the writer can fix (e.g. your basic line edit including spelling, punctation, grammar, word choice, etc.) and then slowly work down your edit as you reach the bigger ideas (e.g. major themes, overarching concepts, etc). There are a few benefits for doing it this way. Firstly, as a reader, it makes logical sense to evaluate the themes of a text after you have finished reading the entire work; this way you have a greater appreciation for the text as a whole (which is required for a concept) rather than the text as a collection of small parts. Secondly, for a writer who may be using your edit like a checklist, they can quickly 'tick-off' the easy fixes and then work the bones of their text more thoroughly (also its often hard to start editing your work and simple fixes are a good early motivator).

Afterwards, I always like to go for the 'one for one' rule. For every one feature you 'criticise', give one place where the writer as done well. These should generally be linked if possible. I'll give an example, say my friend who is writing the teenage love story has a really compelling plot that falls short due to flat characters....you'd state something like "You create a touching story that could be enhanced through better characterisation." So this way, you acknowledge the work the writer has done and also introduce your feedback. Notice how instead of criticising, I posed the above statement like an improvement. Give the person something concrete to work on!

Expand! Apart from the judgemental trope, the other trap that editors often fall into is writing wishy-washy statements that don't really have a solution. I'm sure we've all been in that english class with that one teacher who circles entire paragraphs with the overly descriptive term 'vague' and not had a clue about what to fix. Don't be that teacher! Try and list as many clear examples of what the author could touch up on and fix (without sounding too domineering of course). For example: "The characterisation of your protagonist Sue falls a little flat because it's hard to have empathy for her. You portray her as an extremely beautiful young woman who is bullied for her good looks but is still really popular....I'd suggest reconsidering how realistic this may be. You have an amazing connection built up between Sue and Alex however, perhaps a greater focus on that rather than so much description about Sue might be more effective :)"

Finally, wrap everything up with a nice (generally uplifting) conclusion. My advice is that no matter how terrible the text you have just read, the writer has taken the steps to go out and send you their work! This is much more difficult that it seems! Congratulate them for their effort, perhaps point out some of the nicest parts of their work. I like to add short quotes from the work that I found particularly interesting at the end. This not only leaves them on a happier note but also makes them feel comfortable and safe about sharing their work and moving to improve it! Remember, you have had plenty of time to talk about the flaws, this is the time to build up their morale and let them work through everything.

Okay, so now you've written out your concrit. Here are a few things you should do before sending it to the person:

Give the text another read! I cannot emphasise how important this point is!!! Often themes or concepts that might not have made too much sense the first time become a lot clearer now that you are in the world of the text. Also you can make sure that your critiques actually match the work :)

Give your concrit a read. Try and avoid basic spelling and grammar mistakes and make sure you don't sound too patronising or rude. Perhaps sprinkle some other nice things in there too :)

Remember, a piece of writing is often someone's baby! It can be personal and vulnerable for someone to hear its criticism. Be kind and supportive in your work!

If everything is good, send through your concrit to the person. Generally I like to wait a few days or until the person themselves reaches out to me again before talking about the text anymore. Give them some time to process; allow them the space to decide what they want to do with their work.

Sometimes, your writer might not take all of your edits on board. That is perfectly okay! You, like any other human being, can be flawed and have opinions that don't align with someone else. At the end of the day, it is not your work that you are giving concrit to and it is entirely the writer's decision of how they want to shape their work. Try not to take ignored concrit too personally :)

So there you have it; a relatively comprehensive guide to giving concrit. Whether it be for the next literary journal you edit or for that fanfiction you've read (with a writer specifically asking for concrit ofc), I hope some of these tips and tricks help you in your editing work :) If you have any questions, feel free to ask me (I love asks, comments and DMs) :))) I might consider doing beta reading here in the future and if you have requests you can also contact me as above!

Concrit is welcome for this article (ironic, isn't it?) cos I've literally written it all in one sitting and not even had a glance over it before posting (terrible writing advice...don't do that) :) Reblogs and likes are also extremely appreciated!!! Anyways, happy editing out there folks :)

Until next time,

Hics <3

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sparkagrace · 1 month

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Hii!!! First, I just wanted to say that you are one of my favorite steve/bucky fic authors, like, I've read religiously each one of your fics since lane lines was a wip🥹💕.

Please don't feel pressured at all to answer if you don't have time, but I was wondering if you could give some tips on how to outline a story for a fic, especially long ones, and how to easily remember facts/things that already happened/don't mix information... about characters throughout long fics.

I've never posted any fic but I've been writing drafts here and there and I have a few ideas for longer fics. And lately I've been feeling hopeful about putting in the work and maybe write something decent out of those ideas? But honestly writing a long fic intimidates me a lot. Sometimes when I try to outline some small plotline, my mind just diverges in so many different scenes that I either end up avoiding the main plot, or just turn a short one shot into something longer that I feel has a lot of unnecessary or irrelevant information in it (I also blame this on wanting to know and imagining every single thing about the lives of the steve and bucky of each story)😭

I don't know if I explained myself at all or not 🫠

So, (and again, only answer if you have time for this and want to) if you have any helpful advice or tips for this problem, I'd be really really thankful for them🥹

Hiiiiii! Thanks so much for the kind words. I'm so glad to hear you're looking into writing your own fics! That's super exciting 🥰

Long fics are definitely a big undertaking and can feel daunting; I absolutely understand how it feels. Writing any type of fic is such a process and there will be times (no matter the length) where you might feel like it's too hard to go on, but keep going.

I can't speak for everyone but I know for me, personally, I'm hardly ever going to write a fic I'm ready to post within a few hours. I tend to be someone who needs to sit with the idea and then chip away at it, with occasional larger bursts of creativity, and then an editing process.

That said, here are my tips for outlining long fics in particular and keeping all of the information together:

Every single one of my fics has an outline mostly so I can write down the major story beats that I want it to have. Sometimes I won't have every single part of the fic figured out yet, but usually it's a scene or general concept that I'm brewing (e.g. the 2IM final is what I came up with first for lane lines).

Write down ALL your ideas for the fic in bullet form, including headcanons and histories in the verse. You'll learn how to weed out the parts that don't fit. Sometimes it happens right away, other times you're scrapping half the scene. It's better to have it down than to try and remember it later down the line. Just remember that unless it's going to be a long epic, you'll probably cut most of it out. It's really just throwing ideas at a wall and seeing what sticks and what feels useful and important to the story.

For me, personally, I tend to write the story as if it'll be a long one-shot first. This helps me not get stuck on what should be in each chapter (if it's in a single pov). Once I have the outline fully written out, I'll start seeing where I want chapters to form and then start splitting it up.

With many of my long fics, I have a document I keep that is just the basic outline and all the information I want about the characters (i.e. ages, jobs, background info) that I can refer to. For example, lane lines had a lot of technical stuff I needed to remember so I had a document that was just the results of each race, the schedule for each day of the Olympics and what each character swam (see example below).

I'm not sure how you write, but I am a non-linear writer, which means that I write scenes in any order and then fill out the rest. This might not work for everyone! I still have struggles, but I can't work linearly. I find that doing it this way helps me find which parts of the outline work for me/the story I want to tell.

In all, I tend to have about 2-3 docs that I use to help me as I write: a basic outline, a fully fleshed outline/chapter breakdown, and a working document of the fic.

Writing is a process and you'll find what works for you! I'm definitely someone who writes out in depth outlines and yet a lot of the story develops as I write. Don't be afraid to divert from the outline if you feel the story naturally bends; it's a constantly changing idea that is yours, and you're the only one to tell it!

I hope that this was somewhat helpful! I hope that you have a great time writing and please let me know how you get on! If you have any more questions, don't be afraid to ask 💖

#anon ask #writing

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bbygirl-aemond · 1 year

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do you have any advice for planning out the story and each chapter? im trying to plan out this fic idea i have but i don’t really know how so i thought i’d ask one of the best ao3 authors i’ve seen

oh bby i'm about to go into SO much detail that i'm sure you didn't ask for but here we go! i've spent countless hours of my life on fic planning, and it usually goes entirely unseen by y'all! i'll try to use parts of my earlier planning for stormbreak as an example so as to avoid spoilers while giving you the ability to see how the plans translate into the finished product. this will also give anyone who's interested a cool behind-the-scenes look at how some of stormbreak's chapters evolved from my earliest notes!

i organize all of my planning in google drive, and i have several distinct stages i go through that increase in detail the further along you go.

at the broadest level, i have two documents that i use for brainstorming. one of them, called "snippets," is miscellaneous little half-thoughts and snippets or late-night ideas. it includes both scenes and characterizations. it's basically little notes and reminders to myself. these snippets can usually be worked into the fic at mostly any point. this document is pretty long; about 50 pages. here are some examples of the types of things i put in this doc, including something that inspired a scene later in chapter 11:

the second brainstorming document is called "scenes." this is basically a list of every single interaction and moment that i want to happen. each line of text will represent one of the povs that will end up in stormbreak, with usually 2-3 povs per chapter. each sentence is super brief, like max 10 words, and i'll usually spit them out without regard to chronology since some scenes can be worked in anywhere.

now beginning to put things together i have the document i call "chronological events." here, the scenes are all put in a specific chronological order. i'll assign chronology to certain scenes that have chronological flexibility. and each scene will be expanded into 3-4 bullet points that get at how this scene will advance the plot (through politics, characters, or relationships). here's an example of what this looked like for the scene that became alicent's pov in chapter 12:

and for the scene that became aemond and daeron's povs later in the same chapter:

the "chronological events" document is what i reference first any time i'm going through the planning process for a new chapter. it reminds me of what i need to accomplish with the chapter.

so now let's say i've looked at this document and want to proceed to the initial outline for the chapter. i write these in documents within a folder called "short chapter outlines," and each document is titled "short chapter X outline," with X just corresponding to the number in the actual fic. this will expand the bullet points from "chronological events" into an a few actual paragraphs, and add in some extra padding that isn't strictly plot-relevant but helps to build out the scenes. this is an example of what this looked like for the scene that became aemond's pov in chapter 2:

you can also see that this doesn't always end up being fully translated into the end product. in this example, i changed the events towards the end when writing the actual chapter because it made more sense to me.

okay now we go onto the last stage of planning before i write the actual chapter: the long outline. just like with the short versions, i keep these documents in a "long chapter outlines" folder and each doc is titled "long chapter X outline." it further expands upon the short outline; i'll put the short outline on the left half of the screen to look at it while i write the long outline on the right half of the screen. this is basically me stream-of-consciousness writing the chapter. the goal is to get the entire scene hammered out, pretty much paragraph by paragraph. if there are any particular descriptions, lines of dialogue, or even brief moments that i get stuck on, i write them in shorthand and don't worry about making them pretty. here's an example of this, from the scene that became aemond's pov at the start of chapter 6:

you can see that i expanded on most of these paragraphs and polished the sentences between this and the final chapter. but also that the level of detail here is really high.

lastly, we have the actual chapter, which i write based off of this long outline. i put the long outline on the left side and the chapter itself on the right side of my screen so i can see both at once. i write all of my chapters in microsoft word because that's the format i've written stories in since i was a child and it's where my creativity works best for whatever weird reason. the chapter always stays very true to the long outline, but as you'll see if you compare the long outline above to the actual chapter 6 i do add in a bunch of extra detail. the long outline is usually between 4,000 and 5,000 words and 10-15 pages, while my chapters are pretty much upwards of 9,000 words and 20+ pages. so it about doubles in length at this step.

i do most of my editing (switching certain lines and paragraphs around) as i write this first full draft of the chapter. so when i'm proofreading, i'm only ever checking for errors and seeing if i want to replace any words or phrases with a better idea. this last step usually doesn't take me more than a hour.

from there on, you guys are familiar with the end result! as a note, the "chronological events" and "short chapter outlines" are all fully completed for this story! i prefer to finish this level of planning before even beginning to seriously write. it helps me to lay the foundation for my plot twists from the very beginning of the fic!

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ordinaryschmuck · 2 years

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What I Thought About "Thanks to Them"

Salutations, random people on the internet who are already scrolling past this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

When it was announced that The Owl House's third season would get cut short to three hour-long specials, the fans fought as hard as they could to rectify this insane mistake. And...I really hate how I wasn't surprised.

I've seen this before. There have been many instances when a studio decided on something fans didn't like, and those fans did everything they could to fight back against it. The problem is that the fans rarely win, and it'll take a gosh dang miracle to make a studio change its mind about something. Studios don't care about how badly the fans want something or about a creator's vision. All studios care about is how much money they can make off a product. And it seemed The Owl House didn't have as big of a number as Disney's other shows at the time. It's an unfortunate pill to swallow, but that doesn't mean the situation is hopeless.

There are competent writers out there that, when given restraint, try to roll with the punches and still push out something amazing. Believe it or not, what happened to The Owl House is the best-case scenario, as the writers were told ahead of time what their situation would be, giving them the chance to adjust and make as satisfying of an ending as possible. And if you ask me, I have absolute faith that they'll be able to pull it off. The Owl House isn't my favorite show at the moment for nothing. The writers are outstanding, and the final product of Season Two proves that they know how to tell an overarching story while still giving the characters and the audience the time they need to breathe. The question is, did "Thanks to Them" reinforce this faith? Well, let's find out together, shall we?

SPOILERS BELOW

WHAT I LIKED

Starting Where the Last Season Ended: This was the best decision. The events of the finale are too big of a thing to gloss over immediately by starting with a time skip of them already working hard on getting home. Continuing the story right after the last season left things off works because the characters are allowed some time to establish this new normal and get started on their mission. While putting out some...issues.

Luz and Hunter’s Guilt: I'm still a little iffy on Hunter's guilt, mainly because I don't see him as the victim here, but I understand what Luz's going through. What happened isn't her fault either, as Belos could have tricked anyone instead of her, but I can see how she can believe it's her fault. Even though it could have been anyone else, Luz is still the one Belos tricked in the end, and her pain of knowing that she inadvertently caused so much damage is well within reason. So I'm glad Luz has Hunter with her to share some of the pain. If you think these two were siblings before, you'll get a kick at watching them bond over shared fears and anxieties, being each other's support and reassurance that things are going to be ok. Luz adds more to that last part (because, of course, she does), but it's still sweet seeing them go through this together. It makes their relationship grow stronger and more compelling, and I hope we get just the briefest moments between these two in the future. And I'll go over each character individually, but there are just a few things I want to get out of the way first.

Starting with a character who deserves way more love.

Camila: IF I SEE ONE MORE MOTHER F**KER CALLING CAMILA A BAD MOM AFTER THIS, I'M GOING TO LOSE IT!

Let me break down what this woman does for the dumb dumbs in the back:

Upon seeing these four new kids without a home or anywhere else to go, she doesn't hesitate to insist that they can live with her and Luz until they find a way back. Even if she doesn't entirely understand how they function and is a little freaked out by certain antics.

When Luz came out to her, Camila pulled her and Amity in for a loving hug, and Camila started to wear a pride pin throughout the rest of the special, an extra cherry on that sweet sundae.

Upon seeing Vee in her new form, Camila ran toward her daughter with just as much pride as she did when Luz came out.

She looked at Luz's quirkiness and antics with pride, and if anybody had the AUDACITY to call her daughter a freak, Camila was more than ready to throw hands.

Once she finds out that Luz is planning on staying in the human realm, which is what Camila wanted once she realizes where Luz was during the summer, Camila refuses to let that happen. Back in "Yesterday's Lie," Camila didn't know the context of why Luz wanted to stay. Now, she does. The context has been living with her for months. And they helped her understand why Luz loves the Boiling Isles so much and how it's more of a home than the Human Realm.

The woman even jumped into a dirty graveyard pond to save our precious boy Hunter!

The one misstep she might have made was going through her daughter's journal, but, like...what parent hasn't done that? If you think your secrets are safe, they're not. And they never will be. Just accept that right now.

Is Camila a perfect mom? No. No parent is perfect, as there will be mistakes no matter how good you try to be. And if your takeaway from "Thanks to Them" is still about how Camila's a bad mom, despite all the kind-hearted things she does for her baby and her friends, you're an idiot. There's no other way around it. You are an idiot who doesn't understand good parenting if it slaps you in the face. And I'm only partially joking about that.

Alright, now that I've got that rant out of the way, let's keep things chugging along.

The Montages: There are two prominent montages in this special, the first showing us what Luz and Co. have been up to the past few months and the second detailing the antics Vee and Luz's friends went through in finding the secrets of the puzzle they found. And this was another perfect decision on the writer's part. The Owl House's third season has a similar plot to Amphibia's, only that the writers are working with a third (Ha) of the run-time that Matt Braly and his team did. This means they'll have to speedrun through the same story beats Amphibia had while still providing a satisfying final product. So, seeing the characters adjust to the new environment is relegated to montages instead of dedicating entire episodes (and wasting time) of them going on a wacky adventure in the human realm. And I'm ok with that. This idea of keeping things moving forward but delivering the briefest of cute character moments makes The Owl House more different (and better) than Amphibia. While Amphibia will grind its stories and narratives to a halt so we can have a filler episode dedicated to stuff like Sprig being a superhero, The Owl House keeps things going while working these character moments in with the story. It's a reason why I think people get too bent out of shape when shows don't have filler episodes anymore. Yeah, I get that some of them can be fun when done right, but that doesn't mean characters can't grow without them. Maybe Luz coming out to her mom or the characters meeting giraffes would have made great episodes, but I'm not losing sleep over getting a few seconds instead. Besides, while "Thanks to Them" is still continuing the story, that doesn't mean it can't stand out on its own as something spectacular.

Or should I say spooktacular...?

It’s a Halloween Special: And I love that. I love that despite the writers having less time, they still went out of their way to deliver the one holiday special this series is perfect for while continuing the story. They just added the fun, filler-like stuff with it (see what I mean?). As for how well it works as a Halloween special...it's pretty good. Some solid imagery feeds into the spooky season with some creepy stuff that should be enough to scare the kids watching. Heck, maybe some adults might get creeped out given some body horror that happens later...and yes, we'll get into that...but first, let's talk about something wholesome.

I need something wholesome.

OH, MY GOODNESS, DO I NEED SOMETHING WHOLESOME!

The Kids Learning Spanish: You'll do.

This was sweet, by the way. It shows us just how much these kids care about Luz and Camila by putting in the effort to speak a language that they mastered. It's a small thing, but it fills up my heart.

(Also, that demonic Duolingo is perfect as an in-joke for the fandom. If you know, you know)

They Painted Hooty on the Door: This, on the other hand, is both funny and kind of tragic. Like, the kids miss the Boiling Isles so much that a reference to Hooty gives them comfort.

Hooty!

Man, they really need to find a way to get back home...

The Kids Finding a Way to Get Back Home: Oh...that was fast. But not too convenient. It's heavily implied that the house the kids set themselves up in used to belong to Philip and Caleb (or something like that), so it's not too hard to believe that the kids find their first real clue there.

As for the others leaving Luz out on the search, this does bring up my friend's complaint about how Luz doesn't have much agency as her friends. And, yeah, I can see that frustration. Luz doesn't get to do much in this special, with the most crucial story-driven moments going to the others. Luz is the main protagonist, and she should be able to do more than...relatively nothing. However, it does make sense in context. Luz is currently not in the right mindset and is going through a lot, so her friends are doing their part to chase a lead, wanting to surprise Luz with a win instead of letting her down with another failure. It's her friends' way of paying back all the kindness Luz has done for them by going just as above and beyond as she would in completing a task. It has the unfortunate side effect of letting Luz have little importance, but I wouldn't call it bad writing. Just...a slight mishandling of characters.

Besides, while Luz doesn't do much to advance the story, she adds a lot when it comes to character development.

Luz: This is the most development Luz has gotten through the whole series. Luz is weighed down by her guilt over accidentally helping Belos to the point where she believes things would be better if she never existed. That...hurts. It hurts a lot to see Luz think this way. And it hurts even more to see her heart not being in it when acting like her usual self. When Luz smiles, it never reaches her eyes. When she says something lighthearted and goofy, it almost sounds as if she's empty inside. This experience changed her, and it makes sense. To Luz, she caused so much damage that is unable to fix it for months. It makes sense why she's so emotionally numb throughout the special because...how would you react to all that? Something tells me it wouldn't be great.

This special also gave us more insight into Luz's life before the Boiling Isles. We get to see how isolated she feels, how miserable she is being in a world that doesn't understand her, and even why she loves The Good Witch Azura. We get bits and pieces of that in the past, but this is the first time it's a central focus, and that's great. We know a lot about Luz's friends and family but don't know much about her. So to finally get something about Luz is spectacular. If you ask me, having her go through the most development is a fair trade to her not having much agency in the first part of a three-part finale (besides, we've got two more parts to go through).

Although, she's not the only one going through a lot this special.

Hunter: Next to Luz, Hunter might be the one who grew the most in "Thanks to Them." He gets a hobby that allows him to find some self-expression, finds a book series that gives him comfort over his anxieties, and ends up crying tears of joy when he realizes he's part of a kind, loving family. Again, "Thanks to Them" worked all these great character moments into the story while still moving things along. Seriously, take notes, Amphibia writers!

Jokes aside, it is great to see Hunter happy for the majority of an episode for once. After everything he went through (and will soon go through. We'll get to that), it warms the heart to see my boy just loving life and getting everything he could have ever hoped for...This is why it does serious emotional damage to see it soon crumble to an end. And we'll get to that...but can we go through some more nice stuff first? Please?

Cosmic Frontier: Sure, why not?

I like Cosmic Wonder primarily for the help it gives Hunter and his issues, but it's also amazing how it gives him and Gus something to bond over. It adds more to that brotherly bond they've got going on, which is sweet to see.

Also...those books obviously belonged to Camila. The way she reacted to them and the fact that she got bullied in school over something is all the proof I need. And that's also sweet because it means she's as much of a nerd as Luz, even though she has bad memories of expressing it. Plus, now that we know that Luz's father is the one that gave Luz her first Azura book, a fact that breaks my heart as much as it makes it whole, that might hint at how Camila and Manny met. The boxes in the closet imply they went to conventions together, even saving old cosplays they've made. Really shows you how much Luz takes after her folks, thus warming the heart up in the process.

Masha: Do you want to know what else warms the heart? The Owl House continuing to excel at having such casual LGBTQA+ representation.

Here, we have a character that's non-binary but embraces feminity. There's an incorrect stipulation that to be non-binary means to not conform to either male or female genders, but (as far as I can tell) that's not true. Being non-binary means that you don't identify as either male or female. How you choose to express that is up to you. But if a man can wear makeup and have long hair but still identify as male or a woman can choose to wear no makeup and shave her head but still identify as female, why can't a non-binary individual choose to wear pride nails and wear long dresses?

For The Owl House to allow a group of people to feel that seen is fantastic, and I hope this series will be remembered for years because of that reason alone.

And, hey, it looks like they might be a potential crush for Vee. Isn't that just cute...Oh, yeah, VEE!

Vee: I'm surprised with how well Vee fits into the group. She doesn't do much, but she adds a lot of cuteness and charm, and I love that there are zero issues with the fact that she's a basilisk. She's just a part of the gang, and there are no questions or hesitations about it. And that's nice. It's great to see Vee happy and loved after all the crap she went through before meeting Camila. Also...at least someone had a happy ending...unlike others...But I'm not getting into that yet! There's still the, uh, um...OH! I know!

The Tale of Brothers Whittebane: They just...put it all out there. That's the story of Caleb, Philip, and Evelyn (who's obviously a Clawthorne. I mean, come on). This story is everything we could really need to know, and it's told uniquely by having it be a sort of puppet show. Any blanks in the story we might have can only be confirmed through the background paintings found in "Hollow Mind," which the Tale of Brothers Wittebane in "Thanks to Them" adds clarity towards. Would a flashback episode work better? Most certainly, yes. But, as I've said, the writers have no choice but to speedrun through these story beats while making it serviceable. And that's what this is: Serviceable. I would love to know more, but I'm fine with where we're at.

Belos–NO! No, come on, there's gotta be something else!

Uh...Luz making a light glyph? That was cool and effectively gave me goosebumps.

"Shmuck--"

Um, uh, Luz's journal entries are neat! It's probably the best scene in the entire series, showing us exactly the kind of person Luz is and the heartbreak she learned to deal with!

"Schmuck."

And how about Luz and Amity going as Azura and Hecate?! That's something I've always wanted to see, and I got it! And I bet it made you all happy, right--

"SCHMUCK!"

...

"It's time."

...*Sighs* Yeah...yeah, let's get into it.

Belos Possessed Hunter: This...might be the worst thing Belos has ever done. And that's saying something.

Hunter was finally happy and at peace with everything. He had friends who loved him, interests that gave him something to hold on to, and a family that accepted him. The sad part is that the stuff that made Hunter happy only led to his own downfall. His love of sewing caused a hole for Belos to sneak his slimy self into. His admiration for Cosmic Frontier led to him staying behind and finding Belos in the first place. It is beyond twisted and could potentially lead Hunter to think he's not allowed to be happy if this is where it gets him. Sure, we got a cool fight scene and some decent body horror as Belos took over, but it will never change how this is an experience that will scar Hunter far more on the inside than the out. Especially considering...

Flapjack’s Death: This stings.

No, screw that. This shatters.

Flapjack, the first good thing to ever happen to Hunter and what kickstarted him learning to be loved, is...gone. He's gone, and it's all for the pettiest of reasons: Belos' resentment towards a witch his brother fell in love with. Sure, he hates magic and palismans in general, but he clearly specified that he was doing it because of how Flapjack reminded Belos of Evelyn. And he did it while using Hunter's body as a vessel, adding more damage to the poor boy.

But, if there's one good thing to take away from this, Flapjack died on his own terms. Belos cracked him, and it was unlikely Flapjack would survive anyway, but in his last moments, he spent them saving Hunter one final time. It's not the sendoff we wanted Flapjack to have, but this showcase of true loyalty proves how endearing he can be and how badly he'll be missed.

RIP, you little rascal.

...Thankfully, it doesn't take long before tragedy fades and hope rises.

The Truth Comes Out: And everything is fine.

I'm not shocked that Belos tried to throw in one last manipulation by telling the truth to Luz's friends about the mistake that she made. Nor am I surprised that their reaction was to be stunned at first, but they were quick to get over it, reassuring Luz that there's nothing to be worried about and ashamed of. And you have no idea how much relief I felt when that happened.

Lesser shows would have taken the opportunity to milk this drama far more than what it's worth, having Luz constantly blame herself while others refuse to look at her the right way ever again. Meanwhile, the writers of The Owl House said, "F**k that!" and gave Luz the instant reassurance she'll need. I'm sure she's not totally over her guilt and that we'll get bits and pieces of it in parts two and three, but I'm glad that the writers gave us all the drama they could about Luz keeping her mistake a secret without it feeling like it overstayed its welcome. It's another case of phenomenal writing in this series that was more than welcome.

(Also, Amity echoing back the words Luz said when confessing to her is beyond adorable, and I will hear nothing of the contrary)

But while this wasn't much of a surprise, what definitely was is...

Camila Deciding to Go With: I mean...yeah.

A part of me thought this might happen, but I did not expect it to come true. Still, I'm excited. I cannot wait to see Camila join the fight and kick some butt in the Boiling Isles...That or die/sacrifice herself to save her baby...I mean, if Camila's the only thing keeping Luz in the Human Realm, her death would give Luz the excuse she needs to stay in the Boiling Isles forever with her new family and home...I'm not saying I want this to happen, but it's even more of a possibility now than ever.

And I'm gonna hate myself for calling it...

WHAT I DISLIKED

Get the f**k out of here--YOU ARE NOT NEEDED!

...No, really, you're not needed. I took the one complaint I had (Luz not doing much) and weaved it into the likes so I could rationalize why it still works even though it rubbed me (and others) the wrong way.

What did you expect me to do? Break the flow so I can do something that's not necessary? What am I, an Amphibia writer?

...People probably think I hate Amphibia due to me ragging on it even though I gave it a B- in my final verdict review. The truth is, I do like Amphibia. It's funny, Anne's character development is ten times better than Luz's, and this is a show that knows how to stick the landing when it comes to its finales. My problems are that certain ideas and decisions weren't executed well, with the primary issue being how poorly it mixed episodic storytelling with a serialized one. Other than that, it's pretty good. Check it out.

...What were we talking about? Oh, right! "Thanks to Them!"

Yeah, this is an A+ for sure.

IN CONCLUSION

"Thanks to Them" is better than anything that came out of the series so far. It proves that Season Three is going for the "less is more" approach, giving the fans everything they could want and ask for but not letting it distract from the few narratives left established. There's a voice in my brain telling me that parts two and three of this final season might not live up to expectations, but it is outclassed by the part of me that is reassured by how astonishing this season will be. I have high hopes for the future. And it's all thanks to the writers who really do know how to roll with the punches.

#the owl house #the owl house season 3 #the owl house spoilers #camila noceda #luz noceda #toh hunter #toh flapjack #toh vee #vee noceda #emperor belos #the owl house reviews #what i thought about

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