#I put a lot more thought into the parameters of my fics than I probably should if I'm being honest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

localpastrythief · 1 year

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Hey, I'm new to Tumblr and I've got a few questions...

Just a few unspoken rule type of stuff that I wanna know about using Tumblr, and other such things. I've got anxiety/autism and talking with others is a little difficult for me, so I made this post with some of the questions I have. I probably have more questions about this than what I've put here, but if that's the case I can always make another post.

Anyways, on to the questions.

What's the difference between reblogging and liking a post?

I've see on a few blogs/posts that they prefer reblogging to likes. Is there any specific reason as to why? Is it more a way of showing the blogger how much you enjoyed their post? I.e liking being you enjoyed it and reblogging being you loved it? Or is reblogging more of a way for you to share your opinion on the post, kind of like commenting but on you own blog?

And on the topic of blogs/posts at what point does liking/reblogging become too spammy? This is something I'm confused about on multiple platforms, but on Tiktok I understand it as the viewer liking a video without watching it through and it affecting said videos traction. Is spam liking on Tumblr similar?

What are the rules for Old Posts?

This kinda has to do with the first question, but I felt I should put it as its own question

Does liking/reblogging old posts count as spam, and Is it ok to peruse a blog and like/reblog those posts as you see fit? Would I, theoretically, just be able to like/reblog as I wish, specifically for something like an art blog, or should I wait and like/reblog a certain amount a day?

When should I follow a Tumblr?

I guess in a way this is a sort of followup question to the first two, and it's probably more of a personal choice kind of things but I'd like to know what parameters others use.

Anyways, at what point should I consider following a Tumblr blog? Currently I've followed blogs where I could learn stuff about writing and Fandoms (I.e how popular things and Fandoms can be bigoted towards minorities and women) and some art blogs for a Fandom I'm in currently. But I mean more for future reference, since (I think) I'm following some of those accounts on different platforms. I guess in a way this question ties into the spamming question, but does liking/reblogging posts without following count as spam, and to avoid spam liking/reblogging should I follow the Tumblr account?

Also, a side question to that one, should I make sure I check blogs i followed every so often, as a sort of respect thing and like/reblog whatever content on there I've enjoyed?

What's an ask/suggestions box?

I understand that the blogger can reply to them with a post and usually it's used as a way to suggest/ask for certain content such as art of a specific pairing or a fic of some kind, but what would the purpose be? I mean more of what could I use it for? Or how would I set one up if I wanted to accept those? And are there certain rules I need to follow, besides basic will do's and won't do's?

Commenting/replying to comments

Is commenting/replying to comments kind of required or is it more a personal preference? It probably should be something I should try to do although, like attempting to push my comfort zones. What kinds of things should I comment aswell?

I mean obviously it should be some kind of positive comment, but before, when I used to use Deviantart for art and such (honestly, from the little bit I've used Tumblr, Tumblr is a lot easier to use in a wierd way) i got use to just commenting basic ass "This is so good!" Or "this is amazing!" And well, that gets tiring as hell to comment, especially when it's your base comment and I'm sure it gets a bit discouraging when it's the only thing being commented.

I'm just not sure what other kinds of comments I can make, or replies. I guess commenting opinions would be something, or just little observations, but I'm not too unique in thoughts and such and what I have to say has been said usually quite a lot already. And I also think sometimes my opinions aren't worth sharing. Like they're too stupid or cringe in a way? Although, that could just be because I'm not use to interacting with others.

Is asking that Minors DNI on all my posts, not just the explicit content posts, something that I can do?

I have nothing against minors, but I am 20yrs old and at times I can forget that minors are on social medias and such and that the people I am interacting with could potentially be a minor. And sometimes I can randomly blurt out fairly inappropriate things, especially things that shouldn't be said to or around minors.

And also, interacting with minors just seems like something I shouldn't be doing? Which makes sense as I am 20, and it also just doesn't seem right. I mean for a 20yr old to be interacting with a 15yr olds content. I mean, basic incouragements or criticisms are completely fine, but anything more kind of isn't?

This is probably more a personal opinion kind of thing than an actual problem. I really don't know why it seems wrong, but it does and I don't have the words to explain it either, but my question remains.

Maybe it's because on Tiktok it's common to come across a minor drawing suggestive/thirst content and there be full grown adults being adults in the comments. Although that might just be my current Fandom. I've also come across two different cosplay accounts on Tiktok that do thirsttraps for two different characters (from the same fandom) using a minor's comment for linking another kind of thirsttrap video. It was the very sexual kind of thirsttrap kind of content. It was kind of inking tbh.

I think I just want to make sure I don't accidently end up doing that too, I just don't want to be a creep, accidentally or on purpose. (Also, not saying that those two accounts did that on purpose, but it's still kinda icky)

Also, I'm aware that not all minors will listen to DNI's and all that, I just wanna make sure I can sort of limit interaction. I also have a bad habit of checking accounts that interact with any of my content. Idk why I do, but it's been a habit for a very long time and now that I am a old as I am, I don't think it's going away anytime soon.

How many tags is too much for a post?

Is there any certain amount of tags I should put in posts? Should I focus more on using the popular tags to get my posts out a bit farther or use more? This ones probably also a personal preference kind of thing, but again parameters. I just wanna know what is the normal thing to do.

Reading through this afterwards, I've realized this is pretty much just me asking how to do basic human things with others... welp that sucks ass lol.

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essektheylyss · 1 year

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🍭💎📡 for the writer asks please? (don't feel like you have to do all of them either)

🍭why did you start writing?

I started writing because I read a lot as a child and I had a really cool third grade teacher! We had a period everyday where we had some amount of time to do a bunch of writing assignments, which were all different formats and genres and changed every month, and so long as you turned in that month's assignments at the end, you were free to use the time to write that or any other creative writing you wanted. (I was real disgruntled when the school implemented a banal essay-specific writing curriculum the next year, which was probably a contributing factor to why I dug my heels in and continued doing creative writing on my own, and only begrudgingly wrote essays until late high school/college when I got the freedom with them to enjoy them.)

💎why is writing important to you?

I think a lot of my thoughts for this one were answered here, so in an effort to not repeat myself, I will refer you to that! Tl;dr, writing is like... the overall formation of my worldview and how I engage with anything, so it's really important.

📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom?

SOAPBOX TIME. To preface, I think fandom lurkers are great, and I think they are a vital part of the fandom ecosystem. This is not about that.

That being said, there has been a few trends in recent years in two opposite directions, first of fandom content being increasingly thought of as a commodity for consumption, and also a push to only make fandom content for oneself without worrying about engagement, and I think both of these are unhelpful!

I do think that making art for metrics alone is a losing battle—you should have a connection to what you're making! But everyone in fandom does, and I think that "to engage with the fandom conversation and other fans" is a perfectly valid and actually important reason to make creative fan work! Even when it comes to shitposting or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, more academically-leaning meta, I'm certainly posting more because I find it fun to contribute to the conversation and having discussions. I think fandom is in large part about that kind of discussion, even if the form that takes is everyone contributing to the dash by making their own posts with their own spin on the media.

(This is also why I personally really dislike fandom areas where everyone's working with the same headcanons and parameters, and stepping outside of that or even expressing a different headcanon will get you shunned at best. It takes the conversation and the creativity out of it! What is the point! Are you trying to make a fun little sandbox to hang in or a cult!)

But the thing is, as much as fandom on tumblr is a bit of a parallel play situation, where we're hanging with our mutuals reblogging our silly posts, all of those posts are made by someone, and those people are also in fandom. Every single post is made by someone in the fandom!

Which goes back to the commodification—there is, increasingly, even purely among fans, something of an artificial distinction between "content creators" and "consumers". And no one has to create something in order to be a part of fandom, but everything that is thought of as fandom is created by someone, down to shitposts and gifsets (which I include here as an example because they are so ubiquitous and take work and skill to put together, but I think are often seen less as someone's creative work and more as a commodity unattached to the op)—which I think is a lot of why the decrease in engagement can be so disheartening. Because if no one is sharing their own work, and people aren't then sharing other's work, then there is no fandom.

And I know this question is about writing in particular, but I also consider meta as "writing." I consider shitposts as "writing" even if they take a lot less time than a whole fic. Writing and sharing your writing is incredibly valuable to fandom because it is the foundation upon which we're all participating in community, but I think this is a discussion that can't be limited to only one artform, because in this case it's more about community than the creative work itself.

#thank you for the questions!#I started answering this first today and the last question ended up so long that I kept having to draft it and come back lol #so hopefully it is coherent lol #megs is writing #ask games

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

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Ok but do you have any headcanons for how Hotch/Reid get together? I always think back fo the Chester Hardwick custodial as being a turning point in their relationship.

So here’s my thing with them getting together, I have this problem where I like to play off canon very specifically -- and mold it and make it bend to my whim. I’m kind of evil like that. So I have a whole handful of HCs, and a whole bunch of places in canon that it could have happened. But with the show being complete, I always hit snags in the narrative that would fuck everything up. I like my manipulations to be plausible, I can’t help it. It’s an issue I’m trying to work through xD

So here’s my two favorites:

Before Foyet: There’s a lot of places I can pull from, if I’m being honest, but tonight? We’re looking pointedly at the Chester Hardwick interview like you mentioned, because that is a very very big HotchReid moment that we all covet and love for all the reasons. I think it was indeed a big turning point for them, and no matter when they get together I consider that a timeframe where Hotch starts to consider Reid more than just the junior member of his team. Their relationship begins to evolve a lot, after that. It would be easy to see how after this, with Hotch’s divorce in place, there’s a huge opening for a romantic storyline.

My problem? Foyet. Because that man stalked Hotch within an inch of his life and he would have known about Reid even if no one else did. So then we get a very, drastically different Foyet storyline. Which could be fun and I might write out one day, but a lot of things would have changed there.

After Foyet: This is usually my go-to, because not only is Hotch becoming obsessed with the hunt for Foyet, but both Hotch and Reid suffering injuries at the same time is a great place (when writing) to start planting seeds where they spend more time together. Where Reid gets to worry about Hotch more and more as he loses himself to the case he still works after hours, (oh the angst and pining y’all), but it also gives us a jumping off point. I don’t like to take away from Hotch and Jack’s trauma and healing after Haley is killed, so usually I do the end of season 5/beginning of season 6 as when Reid and Hotch stop dancing around each other.

I feel like it’s a good place that leaves a lot of narrative openings to write scenes between them that develop a deeper relationship, without too much of the rest of canon getting in the way. We end up erasing Beth and Maeve, when I go this route, but they are casualties I’m willing to sacrifice in order to get my fantasy ship sailing.

#this is more me just ranting about particulars and my obsessive need to make this work within the show #even though the ship doesn't fit into canon at all but I CAN DREAM OKAY #I put a lot more thought into the parameters of my fics than I probably should if I'm being honest #hope this answers your question anon <3 sorry it wasn't in the normal format I kind of got on my soapbox #HotchReid #Heid #asks

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bereft-of-frogs · 3 years

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loki series discourse thoughts dump: (I’ve been hanging onto them)

- honestly, I’m not touching the selfcest=problematic discourse because I think you can guess my feelings (who cares, it’s hot tho right? hahaha also not the worst thing I’ve ever shipped so) and also I vehemently agree with the twitter thread that’s like ‘....y’all know this is not a scenario you will ever have to face in real life, right?’ like, this is the ultimate fantastical ship, it’s been around for years before this, I do not care that people are upset about it

- I think one of the problems, for me, with the ‘is it objectively good or bad’ discourse is that the negative takes are so negative sometimes that it genuinely makes me question my perception of reality and my ability to critically view television. like, I’m talking about the ‘the effects are the worst and amateurish and it sucks’ sort of hyperbole. (I thought for the most part the effects were quite good, which is why the couple times they were bad really stuck out to me). or ‘they had no chemistry!’ (I actually thought the chemistry was great, particularly in their first episode together, I was really surprised by how quickly I was like ‘oh but I like this dynamic). things like that where they’re either of a subjective nature or they are problems, points if I were inclined to write a larger critique I may have mentioned as well...but they’re perhaps not as big a problem as some people are making them out to be, which is what’s throwing me off.

- this also I think, comes from ‘contextual reviewing’ or in this case the lack thereof. like when I talk about it being good, I’m not saying it’s prestige television. but I’m placing it against its direct competitors - the disney+ series: The Mandalorian, Wandavision, Falcon & Winter Soldier most directly, but also its similar genre shows. for me, the series was right up there with The Mandalorian and a bit better overall than Wandavision, but was it Dark? Was it Altered Carbon? No, but if I want those things....I’m not going to the MCU for that. I was entertained, which is about as deep as I expect out of it. And yeah, the ground is soft and I’m ready to dig for those buried themes, but I’m also not super bothered because I think Loki fit really well into the MCU

(*and if you think this is just me bootlicking disney or whatever, accepting mediocrity from the mouse, I think this problem of contextual reviewing is something that exists even not talking about the mouse. like, I have different standards for a show if I know it originally premiered on SyFy or the CW, versus HBO or AMC, versus Netflix or Amazon, and I have a whole longer post to be made about why some shows are struggling in the age of prestige tv, because we’re flattening the context and holding shows that would have been perfectly well-received on SyFy to HBO standards and I do think it’s sometimes unfortunate and perfectly fun shows get raked over the coals because they’re not performing to prestige TV’s standards)

- I’m starting to see a potential evolution of my predicted conspiracy. still not as intense as tjlc just the rumblings but I gotta say. Cut it out. it is inappropriate to speculate on the personal relationships of actors. It is doubly inappropriate to with no evidence make vague accusations of an intensely personal nature. leaving this one vague. but just...speculating on accusations of a personal nature because you are disappointed in a tv show is inappropriate. stop it.

- that being said I’m also operating on the assumption that the ‘let’s get a protest mob to tom hiddleston’s house’ anon is trolling but still. stop it. seriously. it’s inappropriate. the show was perfectly fine. it may have disappointed you and you have absolutely every right to be disappointed but you do not have the right to attack people who were doing a job, even if you didn’t like the end result. they pitched a show. their pitch was accepted. they made the show. that’s it.

- speaking of, an interesting observation I’ve had throughout the show’s run is how the fandom seems to feel we’re at war with the creators. a lot of putting them down like ‘[theory] but they wouldn’t be smart enough for that’ or bitching about ‘Michael Waldron’s OCs’. Michael Waldron’s job is to write OCs. he has to make characters for Loki to play off of and to further the plot. There is no reason to assume that fanfiction writers are better or smarter or care more than original content creators. in general, canon content creators are held to different parameters than fic writers. honestly, even calling them OCs feels weird to me because creating new characters and worlds is the literal job of the canon creators? but I guess it also makes sense in a way because they are creating new characters in a world already establish but...I don’t know. it’s different somehow. further articulation on this point required.

I think that’s it for me - I probably have some more episode-specific points to contend, but I think that’s it for my general discourse opinions, just to know where I’m standing at this point. I was really entertained, I hadn’t looked forward to a weekly airing of a show this much since the second season of The Mandalorian finished up. As I said last night, looking forward to the multiverse fallout and season 2 and the other films in the lineup!

#loki series discourse #<<a reminder you can block that tag if you'd prefer to avoid this sort of thing!#loki spoilers #(spoiler tag to be safe)#ok that's it for now #the discourse (tm)#long post

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dal3ks · 4 years

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the project

pairing: peter parker x female reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut, cursing, teasing, coaxing, pet names, mentions to anatomy, marking, oral(receiving), both characters are of age!

a/n: this was a fic i had posted on my main account @a-dorin, but i am in the process of switching over content so that it is a strictly star wars account! just a disclaimer, i am not plagiarizing or stealing content, as this is my fic!

"today i have an exciting announcement," your chemistry teacher gushed, "since we are right on track for the unit, we will be taking a slight detour in our lesson plans. this whole week, we will be learning all about human chemistry!"

the class groaned, and you turned around to your best friend, nova, "how fucking lame."

she winked at you, "it'll be fun."

"so, to kick off this unit, we will be conducting a project on chemical reactions in the human body. i know you all have lab partners, but to make it fun, i will be drawing names out of a cup. everyone's name is on a slip of paper. i will begin drawing names right now, then we will discuss some of the parameters of the project," your teacher continued, a wide smile on his face.

drawing in a sigh, you glanced around the entirety of the room. m.j., one of your close friends, looked intrigued, as she was sitting next to your best friend, nova. flash looked disgusted, while peter and ned both grimaced to one another.

a part of you was hoping you would be paired up with your high school crush, peter parker. ever since the first semester of your freshman year, you had been attracted to him. he had bumped into you in the hallway between seventh and eighth period, knocking your coffee out of your hand. he apologized profusely, even handing you a ten dollar bill for the next coffee run. ever since then, you wanted to get to know the shy boy.

peter was guarded. extremely guarded. his awkward demeanor didn't help at all. anytime you asked him the simplest question, he got flustered, red-faced and stuttered. part of you wondered if it was because he just wasn't a people person, or if it was because he liked you.

both of you guys had made small exchanges since that encounter, whether it was greeting one another in the hallway, sharing a seat on a bus ride, or giving one another snacks in class. since m.j. was within your friend group, you did get to see peter some, as they were mutual friends.

every girl at your high school adored peter. he was charismatic, charming, and was passionate about his friends and school. also, who was ever offered the opportunity to work alongside tony stark? that was another aspect you adored about peter. whenever you guys did chat, it was usually a vivid, funny story about peter's internship with stark industries. his stories made you laugh every time.

even though peter was short, he was taller than you. his floppy brown curls had all of the girls drooling. his smile was radiant, and his body was amazing. you had snuck glances during gym class. the boy was extremely fit. you figured it was due to his internship with stark industries, or maybe the boy just liked to work out. regardless, his body was extremely attractive.

"(y/n) (l/n)," your chemistry teachers voice rang out, snapping you out of your thoughts, "you will be paired with... peter parker."

you widened your eyes, surprised at what you were hearing. glancing over at peter, you realized he looked just as surprised as you were. even though the class had "random" partners, the chemistry teacher usually paired you up with your friends.

after the teacher finished assigning partners, he cleared his throat, "all right everyone! please sit next to your partner while i hand out the rubrics. m.j., can you please help me pass out the papers?"

peter slid into the seat next to you, clearing his throat, "well, i guess we're partners."

"i don't mind it one bit," you flashed him a wide smile.

"so i'm not entirely sure what this project is," peter mumbled, his eyes focused on the table.

m.j. handed us the rubrics, "i'm not sure if you listened to the entire lecture, dipshit. the project is over chemical reactions in the human body."

peter looked sheepish, "yeah, i got that part. but is there anything in the rubric that states that we need to do?"

"i'm sure it's all in the rubric," m.j. smiled sweetly.

you slid peter a rubric for the project, "hey, i'm really sorry if i'm not ned."

"it's cool," he shrugged, obviously in distress. ned was paired with nova, and they were already working on their project, taking notes.

"how about i give you my number?" you inquired, sliding your phone out of your hoodie pocket, "and you come over tonight so we can get a head start?"

"that sounds good," he nodded, taking your phone and typing the number into his phone, "how about i call you when i'm on my way?"

you smiled, eagerly taking the phone back, "that works. i'm home alone tonight, so even better."

peter blushed, just nodding, "i'll call you later then when i'm on my way."

the bell rang, signifying the end of the period. luckily chemistry was your last class of the day. you walked home, bubbly that peter was coming over tonight. once you arrived home, you took a hot shower, shaved your legs, put on lotion, and threw on some clothes. since it was fall, you opted for an over sized hoodie, paired with black leggings. you sprayed your favorite perfume, ensured your skin looked good, and threw on mascara.

once you were all ready, you straightened up your room. you made your bed, throwing some stuffed animals in the closet. peter never told you a time he would come over, but you assumed it would be later in the evening. by the time you finished cleaning the house, it was about seven thirty-eight. you sighed, a feeling of distress creeping over you. what if peter didn't want to come over? what if he stood you up?

a knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. you fluffed your hair, opening the door. there, stood peter, with a white paper bag in his hand, a two liter of cherry coke in the other, "hey, can i come in?"

"of course," he stepped in, setting his book bag near the door, "what did ya bring me?"

he smiled slightly, "oh, my aunt went down to this deli and picked us up some subs and this soda."

"well," you began, "i'm not too hungry right now. maybe we could start on our project, and eat later?"

"okay," he handed you the bag, "you probably know where to put this."

you took it from him, "yeah, the kitchen is just this way. follow me."

"your house is so nice," peter breathed as he followed you, his voice low.

"thank you," you placed the bag in the fridge, taking the two liter from his hand, "you can thank my dad for that. he remodeled the whole house."

"he did an excellent job," peter peered at the kitchen, his brown eyes taking in the granite island, "this looks like somewhere tony stark would live."

you giggled, "it's not that nice."

"it's nice," he nodded enthusiastically, "your dad must be a genius. like a interior design genius."

"honestly he had this idea for a while," you felt myself smile again, "he just acted on it and made it happen. do you wanna head up to my room?"

peter's eyes widened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, "i mean, yeah, we can do that. for sure."

you had him follow you upstairs to your room, guiding him. once you were in the room, he marveled at all of the posters, polaroids, and lights plastered on the walls. you sat down on the floor, grabbing your laptop. peter sat down next to you, biting his lip anxiously.

"oh shit," he mumbled, "i forgot my laptop downstairs."

"don't worry about it," you placed your hand on top of his, "we just need to do a little bit of research anyways. i was thinking maybe we could just do an oral presentation? or we could do PowerPoint. whatever you wanna do."

"okay," you were sure peter's lip would start bleeding if he chewed it even more than he already was.

as you both locked eyes, you noticed that he had a slight cut on his right cheekbone. you frowned, feeling yourself instinctively place your hand on his cheek, the pad of your thumb gently caressing it. he flinched at your touch, but kept looking at you.

"what happened? you didn't have that earlier today in class." the words tumbled out of your mouth, and you immediately felt nosy for asking.

"oh," he stuttered, "i ran into the door frame at the apartment on my way over here. i guess i was a little excited."

"excited to see me?" you raised a brow, feeling heat rush into your cheeks. a blush spread into your cheeks, and you immediately wanted to cover up your face.

"well," peter shifted nervously, "i mean, i didn't want to be too late, and i heard how you were going to be alone so i didn't want you to be alone, and yeah. um, yeah, i was excited to see you tonight."

you scooted closer to him, and his shyness began to dissolve, as he allowed you to continue to hold his face. you could almost feel his waves of anxiety radiating off of him. he was extremely nervous but you didn't know what about.

"peter," your voice was soft, "are you okay?"

his eyes met yours, “i kinda want to tell you something."

"and that is?" you bit my lip.

"i like you, like a lot. i mean, god you're so beautiful. all of the guys at school talk about you and jesus. i probably act like a fucking idiot all the time around you but god i like you so much. i even ran into the door frame because i was so excited to see you. and maybe you don't like me either but i just can't help but be nervous. i just care about you so much. you're so beautiful. like really really beautiful." all of the words tumbling out of his mouth sounded sincere. his cheeks were burning crimson with embarrassment.

"peter," you murmured, your face dangerously close to his. his bottom lip was swollen from him biting it earlier, "i have feelings for you too."

peter sighed with relief, "that makes me so happy."

"what's our project about again?" your hands felt for your laptop, and you pulled it closer to you two.

"chemical reactions in humans," peter answered, not breaking his gaze away from mine, "i have an idea for research since we haven't found a specific topic yet."

"and that is?" you raised an inquisitive brow.

he scooped you into his arms, laying you on your back on the bed. his lips met yours, kissing you eagerly. you pressed your lips against his, kissing him back, surprised at his rush of confidence. his tongue entered your mouth, the kisses becoming more and more hungry. peter's callused hands roamed your body under your hoodie, making contact with your skin. you shivered, goosebumps covering your body.

peter pulled back for a second, "is this okay?"

kissing him gently, you gave an answer against his lips, "yes, this is more than okay. it's amazing."

his lips pressed against your neck, sucking slightly. you knew there would be hickeys in the morning. you ran your hands through his hair, tugging lightly. he pressed his body against yours, and you could feel his hard on through his joggers. as he kissed down your neck, you palmed him through the fabric. he groaned against your neck, whining slightly.

peter motioned you to sit up, and you obeyed. his gentle fingers slipped the hoodie off your top half. a part of you wondered if he had done this with any other girl before. he slipped off his own shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. you felt a slight wave of insecurity washing over you, you weren't as near as fit as he was.

peter seemed to sense the shift in your mood, kissing your chest, "stop. you're beautiful. god, i need all of you."

you undid the clasp on your lace nude bralette, letting it fall onto the floor beside the bed. peter widened his eyes, grasping each one of your breasts in his hands. he squeezed gently, unsure of what to do next. his eyes met yours, full of lust. his bottom lip was slightly swollen from the kissing, and his pupils were dilated.

his mouth latched onto your breasts, giving each one of them an equal amount of attention. you laced your fingers into his hair, tugging harder this time as peter sucked, kissed, and licked all over your chest and breasts. the actions were driving you crazy. you could feel how wet you were, even with your leggings still on. as peter continued, you let out a small moan.

"what princess?" peter's voice was husky, "tell me what you want."

"i want you," you whined, "i want you so bad."

"mmm," he hummed, "that's not specific enough, baby. tell me exactly what you want."

"i want your touch so bad," your voice was edged with desire.

"yeah?" his voice was low.

you nodded eagerly, "i need you to touch me."

"as you wish princess," his lips pressed against yours gently.

peter's lips trailed down your stomach, leaving sloppy kisses. he stopped at the waistband of your leggings, his fingers hooking the fabric. he slipped your leggings off, his cheeks tinged red at the sight of your black lace thong.

"are you sure you're ready for it, princess?" peter's eyes met yours.

you bit your lip, nodding. god, he was so hot like this. his fingers delicately took your thong off, casting it to the floor. he took a second to let his eyes roam your body, savoring every inch of it. you felt peter's tongue immediately connect itself to your clit, going in slow, circular motions. you gripped his head, pressing his face into your thighs. that only encouraged him, as he began to suck on your clit. he inserted a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out.

"god," he groaned, "you taste so good baby."

"you're going to make me cum," you moaned, your cheeks hot and jaw slack. even though you had received oral before, peter was by far the best you ever had.

his tongue slowly licked up, taking in all of your pussy. he fingered you, making a hook with his two fingers. you could feel tension building up in you, driving you crazy. your orgasm was coming soon, and peter showed no signs of slowing down. peter wanted nothing more to do this all night if he could.

"you're close aren't you?" peter's breath was hot, "c'mon princess, you're almost there."

he sucked on your clit, squeezing one of your breasts in his hand. his fingers pulled on your nipple, and you felt yourself come undone. your loud moans filled the room, and peter gripped your thighs to keep you on the bed. he licked you until your thighs stopped trembling. once he was finished, he glanced up at you, his cheeks flushed.

you took his hand, sucking on his two fingers. he bit his lip, letting out a small sigh, "i told you that you tasted good."

your eyes drifted down at the sight of his hard on through his joggers. your hand palmed him through the fabric, and pleasure washed over him.

"hey peter," you murmured, "did you bring any condoms?"

his face reddened, "no, i, um. i have some, but not with me."

your fingers latched themselves on the waistband of his joggers, slowly gliding down his legs. he was still hard, his skin hot and his face flushed. his breath hitched in his throat as you pulled down his boxers, your hand wrapping around the base of his cock.

"peter," your eyes met his, "please fuck me."

he almost came at the sound of your words, the innocence in your tone. he pushed you on your back, kissing you hungrily. you felt his tip on your clit, and you let out a small whine.

"what princess?" his voice made the room ten times hotter, "tell me what you want."

"i want you," you whined, your pleas desperate, "i need you to fuck me so bad."

his cock entered you, and you let out a moan of pleasure. peter started with slow, rhythmic strokes, and you could feel all of him as he did so. as he fucked you, you placed wet kisses all over his toned chest and neck.

"you feel so good," peter groaned, his ears burning red. his eyes met yours, and you felt another wave of pleasure wash over you.

peter's lips met yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. there was a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, along with yours. he intensified his pace, your nails digging into his shoulder blades as he fucked you senseless. his shyness was now stripped away from him, and you loved it. you loved this moment and everything going on between you so goddamn much.

"i'm gonna cum," peter moaned. he pulled out, finishing on your stomach.

his eyes met yours once again, and you both laid there, taking in the moment. peter's lips met yours for a gentle kiss.

"i'll go grab something to clean this up with," you murmured, about to get up.

"no, you stay here," peter instructed, "just tell me where the bathroom is and i will grab a towel or something."

you gave in, telling peter where the bathroom was. he slipped on his boxers and joggers, and then went to on the search for a towel. he came back, carefully cleaning you up.

hopping off you bed, you grabbed a hoodie, throwing it on, "that was amazing."

he gave you a cheeky smile, "i just wanted to conduct some research."

"and what conclusions did you draw?" you giggled as you searched for a new pair of underwear.

"that one," he began, "you taste good. two, you have a beautiful body. and three, i cannot wait to do that again, baby."

you slipped on new thong, then found a pair of joggers, "how about we just forget the project for the rest of the night then?"

peter scooped you into his arms on the bed, cuddling you, "i don't think that's a bad idea. it's not due for another two weeks anyways."

you pressed your lips against his shoulder, "we'll be alone for another few hours anyways."

"sounds like there's going to be a round two soon then," he chuckled, "by the way, i hope i wasn't bad or anything. it was kind of my first time doing stuff like that."

you felt yourself gasp, "there's no way."

"i was a virgin before tonight so," he murmured, slightly embarrassed.

"don't be shy about it," you gave him a chaste kiss, "it's not something to be ashamed of."

"well maybe i will become experienced enough tonight and we can do our project about human chemistry during sex," peter teased.

"in your dreams, geek," you rolled your eyes playfully, and you felt his lips gently brush against your cheek.

you felt yourself collapse into his arms, feeling a slight wave of exhaustion overwhelm you. his fingers traced your back under the hoodie, and you allowed yourself to close your eyes, content to be in the arms of your boy.

if only you got to spend every night like this with peter.

******

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spider-man #spider-man x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #marvel x reader

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lovethestars1966 · 3 years

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STEREK FBI/FALSELY ACCUSED FIC

Chapter three is up from unforgettable!! The one where the Sheriff arrests and charges Derek with multiple murders. Also I have a competition going on the person who can guess the murderer first!! First and second prize. It’s to pay for some ART by a very talented Tumblr artist who we all know and love. Just a bit of fun. Give it a go if you're interested and who knows. Maybe you’ll be the winner. Can’t hurt.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31853854/chapters/79642657#workskin

Excerpt: (Big one today...)

“So you guys work with Stiles?” Isaac asked conversationally as he led Allison and Jackson along the track to where the body had been discovered.

“For a few years now,” Allison answered, assuming she would be the only helpful person for Isaac today. Jackson was forthcoming but anything he had to say seemed less than useful. “You knew him from school?” She asked.

“Yeah, but if you’re from Beacon Hills you pretty much know everyone from school.”

Jackson speaks up, “was he just as annoying back then?”

“Probably more.” Isaac laughs genuinely and it causes Allison to giggle alongside him. “Didn’t stop me from being madly in love with him though.” he admits sadly.

Allison isn’t afraid to admit she stumbled then. Freezing right alongside Jackson at the sudden bombshell Isaac had just dropped. Isaac himself didn’t notice he was walking alone for a few moments but when he did he looked back to find them both standing there gobsmacked.

“Guess Stiles doesn’t talk about me much huh?” he asked just a little bit embarrassed. Allison made a small choking noise while Jackson threw his hands skyward in disbelief.

“Seriously, how did that little weasel get two guys to fall in love with him?” He asked but Isaac skilfully ignored him in favour of Allison.

“Did he know?” She queried.

“Whole town knew.” the deputy answered, shrugging his shoulders and continuing towards their intended destination, “Although I would hope Stiles knew anyway since we dated.”

Allison had just started walking again.

“What the fuck is happening?” Jackson whispered, mostly to himself.

“Wait,” Allison threw a hand out to stop Isaac once more. “I thought Derek was the first and only person Stiles ever dated.” Isaac nodded and hurried them along once more.

“Well yes and no,” He relented to her enquiring eyebrow, “Derek was certainly the first person he dated and I assume he thinks he’ll be Stiles last. Stiles and myself dated for a few months when he and Derek broke up.”

“Stiles and Derek never broke up.” The conflicted agent to Isaac’s right argued which caused the young cop himself to huff quietly with laughter.

“Guess Stiles doesn’t talk about anything from his past much.” he states, “I gotta tell you, that does make me feel a bit better.”

“I’m starting to feel like none of us really know Stiles.” Allison muttered.

“Yeah, well I just learnt two people have actually seen Stiles naked and enjoyed it so now I’m questioning everything I know.” Jackson countered inciting another round of laughter from Isaac.

“Now that I can’t claim,” he admitted, “me and Stiles never had sex, though not from a lack of trying on my part.”

“Surprisingly that didn’t help.” Jackson grumbled and then wheezed out an annoyed breath after having a hand thrown across his chest. “Problem?”

“Not at all, we've just arrived.”

It was like flicking a switch. Allison and Jackson went from confused, and a little sickened in Jackson case, to professional in the blink of an eye. From the corner of her eye she saw Isaac looking mildly impressed.

“You got the file?” Jackson asked Allison who was already nose deep in said paperwork.

“Looks like she was found underneath that tree over there,” she pointed towards a large imposing trunk, and after a quick inspection they discovered specks of remaining blood confirming the assumption.

“wide space,” Jackson noted out loud, “no clear trails, lots of obstacles.”

“What does that mean?” Isaac asked genuinely interested.

“Means whoever did it has to be an experienced hiker.” Allison answered as Jackson wondered off a little. “Probably have an intimate knowledge of the area.”

“A local?”

“Not necessarily, could be anyone who travels here often enough to learn the terrain. Although statistically speaking a local is more likely.” She mumbled examining a photograph.

“Any tire tracks?” Jackson yelled, still out of view, startling the young deputy.

“None that our technicians could find.” He answered anyway as the male agent came stumbling back into the clearing.

“How wide were your search parameters?” he questioned further.

“Had a team of about six go about two miles in all directions.”

“Only two miles?” Allison asked shocked at the same time Jackson screwed up his face.

“Only six people?”

“We’re a small town,” Isaac huffed a little offended, “that’s actually a lot for us,”

Allison had the moral conscience to at least look sheepish while Jackson merely shook his head in judgement.

“Two miles is still pretty far to drag a body.” Isaac moved on smoothly. “At least it is for any normal human being.”

“Well you’re not wrong there, Kolchak.” Jackson retorted unforgivingly. “Maybe she was flown here on a magic carpet.” Isaac was becoming increasingly more put out the longer Jackson was allowed to talk and showed so in the narrowing of his eyes. Allison was going to have to watch that. Her best friends fiancé had a way of pissing people off that was unmatched by others.

“Obscure references to seventies si-fi-crime shows aside,” the deputy forged on, “the point still remains, this guy must be ripped… if it is a guy? Do we know that?” He directed the last part towards her.

“I highly doubt it’s a woman.” She responded, and Isaac looked extremely grateful. “the facts don't add up.”

“Meaning?”

“Statistics show that ninety two percent of all female serial killers know their victims personally. While it is extremely likely, almost definite even, that the unsub in this case knew at least one or two of their victims, considering the fact that they were spread across three states and share extremely similar aesthetics, knowing all thirteen on a personal level is virtually impossible.” Allison explained calmly only for Jackson to tag on the end.

“Pair that with the fact that most female motives are to do with money, and that we just ruled out magic carpet to the dumpsite, seems a bit ridiculous to suggest women doesn't it?” he asked with no small amount of mockery.

“Boy are you going to be sorry if it does turn out to be a woman.” Isaac replied shaking his head in judgment. Jackson’s only response was to roll his eyes.

“Okay,” Allison spoke up completely ignoring the boys little competition, “So if he didn’t drive here, and he didn’t carry her here then how did she get here?” she pondered aloud. Jackson furrowed his own forehead in concentration.

“Maybe she was killed here?” Isaac offered only to receive a scoff from his favourite agent.

“She died from blood loss Deputy,” Allison stepped in before Jackson could mock, “There was nowhere near enough blood near here for it to have been the kill site.”

“I know how she died, I saw her,” Isaac began then paused, looking like he regretted his short tone. He tired again. “Look Doc Deaton told us she had ligature marks around her ankles.”

“she was hung upside down.” Allison confirmed.

“Yeah but I watched this documentary on like war zones and militant extremist and stuff. It said that sometimes they have to take their victims to remote places to, you know, ‘question them’. Often they do it by cutting them and letting them bleed to death slowly hung upside down. To avoid attracting animals with the sent of blood they like, dig a hole, or place them over a bucket or something.”

By the time Isaac had finished he looked a little embarrassed, at his suggestion, but obviously couldn’t bring himself to tame the smirk he sent Jacksons way. Jackson however was just looking back with a seemingly bewildered look on his face.

“You are an idiot.” he stated and Isaac deflated a little. “You think this guy just so happened to watch the same documentary you did? You realise the chances of this are like five million to o-“

“Shut up Jackson!” Allison interrupted suddenly.

“What?”

“Shush, I think Isaac might be right,” she waved off his distress distractedly and Isaacs smile grew back tenfold. “Think about it. This guy is meticulous, methodical, dedicated. All things that can be easily explained with a military background.” She grinned back at the young officer before heading over to the tree and squatting down. She pulled out a glove from her pocket and began fitting it over her hand while continuing her thoughts aloud.

“What if he served overseas. He could have learnt everything he needed from the locals and simply applied it to some of his victims.”

She placed her covered hand to the ground where the body had been discovered and started to dig.

“Now considering he would’ve had to walk her here, tie her to the tree, kill her, get her down, and get the hell out of dodge, I doubt he had time to bring several buckets along with him and then carry them all the way back to wherever he came from without dropping any. No he is way to organised for that. However digging a hole would only require a small shovel. Military grade ones can be attached to a belt, which leaves only his faith that the local sheriffs department would never think to dig…”

Suddenly she stopped pulling up the dirt when she was almost elbow deep. The two boys froze in anticipation as she slowly lifted her gloved hand into view. There was dirt, soft and wet from the damp ground as well as small bits of leaf and bark but in-between all of soil, saturating the no longer white glove was deep red blood.

“To bad he didn’t know we would have a deputy as quick as you hey Isaac,” she spoke smugly looking over to him with an approving nod.

Isaac totally preened.

Jackson merely growled at being proven wrong.

“‘Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance’.” Isaac quotes smugly. She wasn’t sure is he was talking about Jackson or the unsub. Probably both. Either way it sounded familiar.

Allison scrunches her nose up. “What is that? Shakespeare?” She asks curiously. Isaac goes to answer but is cut off by Jackson.

“Call a CSI team already,” he spat before turning around and muttering, “If this backwater town even has one.”

#Sterek #Team Sterek #sterek fanfiction #sterek fic rec #stiles stilinski #derek hale #Stiles/Derek #derek and scott are brothers

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sagemoderocklee · 3 years

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2020 has been a weird fucking year, to put it mildly. There have been a lot of ups and downs, and with New Year’s Eve and the start of 2021 upon us, focusing on the ~positive~ seemed like a better way to end the year, and hopefully start 2021 feeling inspired and proud for overcoming this horrendous year.

For many people, it was difficult--even impossible--to get anything done this year (myself included), and that’s okay! But if you were able to make progress on writing projects, even if it was just one or even if it was just part of one, you should celebrate that! I wish I’d thought of this sooner and organized it better, but regardless I wanted to celebrate my own accomplishments with regards to my writing, and encourage others to do the same! I was going to tag people, but I’m not sure with it being 2 hours til midnight for me if that would feel like putting too much pressure on others, so if you want to do this too please do!

This wrap up is honestly just a self-indulgent look back on the works I’ve made and what I learned/gained from each, maybe what I don’t like about them, some totaling on what I did, and some resolutions for the next year. It’s silly, but I think it’s kinda fun and if you missed any of the things I have posted this year, you’ll find them here!

2020 Fic Wrap Up:

Kado: Parts II+III (COMPLETED)

Kado was started in September of 2019 for the @puregaalee summer event. This was a last minute thing that I started the day the prompt was due and managed to write the first part in about 6 hours while sitting in a cafe--remember that? Sitting in cafes? Man, I miss that. I hadn’t anticipated working on Kado, but I decided that I was going to finish it this year, and I’m honestly amazed that I did. This fic is sweet and fun, and surprisingly popular, though it isn’t my favorite of my works. However, it is a light, fluffy little romcom modern AU, and I learned a lot with it because despite my struggles with modern AUs and their horrible lack of political intrigue, this fic forced me to work within set parameters. I was only writing a 3 part story, and each part could only be 9 scenes long. For those unfamiliar, kado is another term for Ikebana, and in Ikebana there are specific elements to follow. Certain styles will only use three branches, some will use nine. So my goal was for the structural elements of the fic to mimic Ikebana. In doing this, I was able to do something I don’t usually do, which is keep this story more concise.

I’m still not sure how I personally feel about the ending, but I think endings are always a struggle, especially with something like this.

Gate of Dreaming (COMPLETED)

This is a fic that I started last year, then left to sit untouched with only 2k words. Getting back into it was a bit difficult because I was writing something very different from my usual: stream of consciousness. This fic was very experimental for me not only because of the stream of consciousness, but also because of the changing tenses. This was another exercise--unexpected though it was--in brevity. With this particular story, it couldn’t be dragged on and on, because--despite the 100 year time span--the events take place within the Infinite Tsukuyomi. This was also the first time I’d worked from Lee’s PoV in quite some time, so that was fun because I do enjoy writing him, but usually write from Gaara’s PoV. This is definitely one of my favorites from this year, and since it had been sitting on the back burner for so long, I’m so excited that I could finally get it done.

Another one where the ending really wasn’t easy to achieve, but I did end up liking it more than I expected, and I think the best thing is that it’s open-ended which leaves room for others to guess at what the future holds.

It Eats Your Heart (WIP)

This was an unexpected fic for me in every way imaginable. Starting another fic? Making another modern AU? Tackling the horror genre? None of those were things I’d planned to do this year, but lo and behold, that’s just what I did. I really enjoy a good bit of horror, but it is NOT an easy genre to work within, and this fic has definitely been a push for me. But with it being such a push, the payoff is far more. Stepping out of my comfort zone is something I like doing, but I think this is the biggest step outside of that and I am so incredibly proud of how that first chapter turned out because of it. I was really able to surprise myself with this fic, and I am hoping to update the next chapter early on in the year.

Absolution (WIP)

This fic is probably the second oldest idea/longest unpublished fic I currently have up. Formerly a much longer title, the idea for this fic came to me in May of 2017 when a friend, @brianadoesotherjunk / @brianadoesart, posted a piece of GaaLee fanart that sparked inspiration. The fic took off, morphed into something much bigger than the one scene depicted by the art, and now 3 years later, the first part is up. Initially, this was meant to be a long shot, but after sitting with this for so long, I realized that I needed to split it up into 9 parts, which allowed me to use this for GaaLee bingo and finally publish it. Much of the first part was already written before this year, but I’d been quite stuck on it until now. This is actually probably one of my favorite GaaLee concepts to date. I remember back in the day, there weren’t a lot of different takes on getting Lee to Suna so he and Gaara could fall in love, so (at the risk of sounding cocky) I think that Lee as a nanny is rather inspired. I think with this fic, I pushed myself the hardest to get past the hurdle of writer’s block and accepted that publishing is probably the best way to motivate myself to keep going. The feedback for this fic has been really motivating, so I think I’m probably right about that.

I do think there are some parts in the middle or towards the end that could maybe use some tightening up, but I’m just happy to finally have this fic out in the world.

The Art of Love: Chapter 11 (WIP)

TAoL is such a ridiculous labor of love. The chapters for this fic are novellas in and of themselves, so each time I update it takes a lot of work to get them out. This fic is one of those like magnum opus type fics. I have put so much into it, and I’m honestly amazed that it’s only been up for 3 years because I’m approaching the halfway mark on it, and I don’t think I expected to be there by now. Despite being able to churn out 30k chapters, I have a hard time focusing on one thing and I often struggle with mental health related writer’s block, so big works are always sort of sporadic in their updates.

This particular update of TAoL was definitely one of my favorites though. Initially, I didn’t plan to go the sort of dark fantasy rout that I did with Shikamaru, but I actually really love what I’ve done with him, though I worry others won’t be as into it or that the execution isn’t quite there. One thing I would like to work on with future chapters of TAoL, however, is maybe pairing things down a bit--though I’m not sure that’ll always be possible. The next chapter is a Naruto PoV chapter, though, so I expect that one to be a MUCH shorter chapter than the last three and should be able to get it out sometime next year.

Before I could publish this chapter, however, I did go through and make some big changes, which is something I often struggle with because of such long breaks in between working on certain projects. I will say, though, that TAoL continues to push me to greater heights as a writer, and I look forward to actually finishing this fic someday.

Thirteen Strokes: 1 + 2 (WIP)

Another unexpected fic this year, however, this one was actually an idea for about a year, unlike IEYH. This fic has really given me a lot of perspective on my own writing and world building, and has inspired me to sit down and really start committing the things I’ve developed to paper to create a cohesive view of Suna, Wind, and the shinobi world. This fic is meant to be a Romance. Like just full on Romance. I write a lot of tragedy and focus on a lot of darker themes in my writing, so while I don’t think of this as stepping outside of my comfort zone, it is very different from my usual, and a really nice change of pace. I think, in all honesty, it is one of my best works, and I do hope I can continue to deliver on the remaining 11 parts of this story.

if this were the last i felt you breathing (COMPLETED)

Ugh. This fic has been my enemy for 2 long years. I signed up for a Secret Santa exchange, and of course, I regretted doing it when I found that I was not motivated and, after the month of October where I was churning out fic after fic for GaaLee Bingo, that I was massively burned out. I wasn’t able to think past writer’s block, and so I ended up settling on dusting off an old, unfinished piece for my giftee, and I hope they can forgive me for not coming up with something brand new for them.

This fic was a struggle. Working so closely with the canon--following the Rescue Kazekage Arc as closely as I did for this fic--made this a much bigger challenge and this fic sat and sat and sat for two years, untouched and incomplete. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. I know it’s not my best work, but I am glad that this fic isn’t hanging over my head and that I was able to deliver something to my secret santa giftee.

My goal with this fic was to rewrite this particular arc from Lee’s PoV to give more depth to the arc and shift the emotional core of it away from Naruto. Naruto as a character has a lot of flaws that never get addressed, and one of the things that is consistently frustrating for me is the way the emotional core of the series rests on him in unrealistic and often superficial ways. Naruto hasn’t spoken to Gaara in three years, but I’m supposed to believe he’s this affected by Gaara’s kidnapping? Temari and Kankuro are right there! Lee is right there! I wanted to see that, so that’s what I set out to do, and ultimately I don’t think I fully succeeded, but I tried. I guess not everything can be a resounding success

---

This year I managed to do a lot more than I realized. New works, updates, and COMPLETED pieces?! I never would have thought, but staying home gave me more free time, and when I was too broke to work on costumes, writing fanfiction was something free I could do.

Total new works: 5 Total updates: 9 Total completed works: 3 Total words this year: 143,587

---

I have a lot of goals for the coming year, and I know I won’t make all of them, but that won’t stop me from trying.

2021 Writing Resolutions:

Reach 1million words (+238,073 words)

Finish IEYH

Finish Pearl-Filled Lungs

Update TAoL (Chapter 12 and 13)

Update Absolution

Update 13S

Update Find Me (Chapter 6)

Start the Ballad of the Dragon and the Phoenix

Start editing Alliance

Return to working on Honor Bound

Return to working on We Need Not Be Yellow Tulips

#naruto fanfiction #gaalee #naruto #shippuden #gaara #rock lee #fanfiction 2020 wrap up #fanfic year in review

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codenamesazanka · 4 years

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I was gonna save this for my fic Interference by Half but let’s be real, idk when I’ll ever update that and this is an idea I’ve always wanted to share because I’ve hated the ‘just wear gloves’ “solution” for Tenko/Tomura, so:

If you give Tomura (pre-Deika) a pencil, and he touches it with five fingers, it’ll disintegrate. As long as he doesn’t touch the pencil with five fingers, it’ll be okay and he’ll be able to use it. Which is why Tomura is always shown grabbing things with only a few fingers, and why he was unable to decay ‘Sand’ in Chapter 160.

Gloves - whether with some of the fingers cut off, as is most often headcanon’d, or each finger is made of different material - is one solution. We see little Tenko with gloves when he is taken in by AfO after manifesting his quirk:

But, see, I’ve always thought, how annoying. How uncomfortable it must be to have to keep gloves on 24/7. Sure, you can get some super-soft, thin-cloth ones; but it must still be bothersome, wearing, washing, getting it wet, etc. What if he gets a rash? So it always made sense to me that instead, Shigaraki would learn to have meticulous control over his fingers - free hands, and able to use his quirk whenever should he need to.

For a child just starting to learn to use his quirk, this can be hard, true. So how to practice? How to keep his hands free? How can you accommodate a quirk like Decay? Instead of forcing Tenko/Tomura to wear gloves, what about spicing up his surroundings?

So I thought, to use the pencil example above, why not wrap the pencil in ribbons or yarn?

Strings of different yarn, ribbons; stickers and fancy tape; patchwork cloth of different materials. On pencils, controllers, toothbrushes, doorknobs, cups, etc. Semi-yarn-bomb the house! Decorate! It doesn’t impede anyone else living with him or using the same objects.

So that he’s never actually touching an object with five fingers. One finger on wood, one finger on a sticker, one finger on a the yarn.

It’s not a perfect solution, it’s not 100% decay-proof. There will be unlucky mistakes. Maybe I have the parameters for his quirk wrong. It’ll probably be useless once he’s in post-Deika self (or even, pre-massacre/he never loses his memories?)

But I think, for AU fics that have Tenko growing up normally or rescued, it’s worth considering what his caretakers might do to help him out, adapt his environment to his circumstances, embrace how he is, stuff like that. ‘Solutions’ or changes or a different perspective that make him feel a bit more normal, instead of “The kid who has to wear gloves 24/7 because his quirk is that dangerous”, maybe.

The Social Model of Disability is where I drew inspiration from: the idea of disability being a result of the barrier of attitude and structure in society.

“...A town designed with wheelchairs in mind, with no stairs or escalators. If we designed our environment this way, wheelchair users would be able to be as independent as everyone else. It is society which puts these barriers on people by not making our environments accessible to everyone.”

I’ve once read somewhere that superpowers don’t do as well as a metaphor of racism, as it’s often used for, than as a metaphor for disability. Differing levels of abilities, of what people can or can’t do. It’s not a straight analogy, of course, and there’s definitely issues that can arise from it.

But I feel like this fits in the HeroAcaWorld of quirks. People with ‘unusual’ bodies that should be considered when constructing buildings and public spaces. Quirks that allow someone to do more, or less, than most of the population, but it shouldn’t affect their status as a person living in society. Ideally, a world where people aren’t forced into a ‘normal’ standard/body/lifestyle/functioning at the expense of some integral part of themselves.

Which is what a lot of the conflict in the series comes down to, ultimately.

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writingithink · 4 years

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Tangled Timelines Chapter 1 Rated: T Wordcount: 5,895 Summary: The Doctor and Rose have some news to share with Jackie, but the trip doesn't go quite as planned. Notes:Hello! This is my fic for the Classic Tropes Event. Mine was Fix-It Fic. This one is going to be a multi-chapter, with more tags added as I go. For those of you who have been reading the whole series, I actually plan to finish up the honeymoon fics (they've just been giving me grief). So those will come later, with edits to series order etc etc. If you haven't read the series, I think you should be okay? They're bonded. It was an accident. That should be all the info you really need. All of the thanks ever imaginable to @hey-there-juliet for betaing <33 All mistakes are most definitely mine (esp since I did a lot of glaring at this thing after it was beta'd). I own nothing.

Multiple trips to the TARDIS' library and seemingly endless cross-referencing all culminated in the moment the large tome slipped from the Doctor's hands and onto the bed. It knocked against Rose’s leg and his eyes automatically moved to her face - still asleep. Since their bonding, his wife had gotten used to him bringing various things into bed with them for when he inevitably got bored while she slept.

“And you couldn’t alert me to this, because …?” he whispered to his ship, voice flat and eyes wide as his brain struggled to assimilate everything he had just read.

There was no answer from the TARDIS, not even a hum of acknowledgement. It figured.

The Doctor scrubbed his hand across his face before leaving the bed, heading straight to the infirmary despite the fact that he was only wearing boxers and a vest. This time he didn’t ask his inconsiderate ship for any assistance, simply pulled up every single file on Rose Marion Tyler that existed, on the TARDIS or not. It only took seconds to hack into Earth hospital files, after all.

Not that they helped much, as the technology used in Rose’s time was appallingly primitive.

“Level five medical garbage,” he muttered to himself, zooming past all of her records. Vaccines, minor illnesses, nothing that gave him a good picture of Rose Marion Tyler before she stepped onto the TARDIS. Which, overall, was a good thing - it meant that she had never been so hurt that she needed a CAT scan or an MRI. It would have just been nice to have the data, what with his near obsessive compulsive desire to have the most complete picture of his wife’s biological history.

It’s as if no one had ever heard of voluntary medical data filing. But so be it. The TARDIS had more than enough base scans, starting from the first moment Rose set foot on the ship. This time he wasn’t going to cut corners like he had before, when he’d looked at just her telepathic centers and absolutely nothing else.

Thinking about the last time he and his wife had been in here, weeks ago, the Doctor opened a new screen to check the progress of the six-dimensional comprehensive deep scan results. They were nearly complete.

A feeling of dread lodged in his stomach.

They should have been finished ages ago. The fact that they weren’t -

He shook his head, wiping a hand down his face as he swiveled back to the primary view screen. The base scans should be able to offer him an explanation. Would. They would, because he needed to know exactly what was going on.

The TARDIS had automatically compiled all base scans since their last visit, and his previous parameters were still in place, focused solely on what in humans was called the pineal gland. The Doctor wasn’t sure that name quite applied for Rose’s brain anymore - Epiphysis Cerebri seemed like a much more accurate name for her telepathic center, which was still showing slow, incremental growth.

Fingers moving quickly, he navigated away and started gathering new information. Graphs of brain capacity and function, cellular activity and health, levels of all hormones and neurotransmitters and molecules with a special search for anything that wouldn’t normally be found in a 21st century Earth human.

Waiting for the TARDIS to compile all of these graphs felt like torture, even though it took a relatively short amount of time.

And then he had screens and screens of data all vying for his considerable attention and painting a picture that had his hearts going into overdrive, adrenaline throttling through his systems. Terror. Elation. Fear. Hope. All of his emotions were muddled and changing by the nanosecond. Panic was a constant, however.

All of it was so overpowering that the Doctor soon found himself actively fighting his traitorous body as it tried to enter a completely unnecessary healing trance, confused as it was by his sudden inability to keep control of processes that he generally had a tight grip on.

Two hands fell onto his shoulders, shocking him into jumping up, nearly crashing into the infirmary’s computational system. He whirled around to see the confused and frightened face of his bondmate.

“Doctor?” she asked, hesitating.

He wondered how long she had been trying to speak to him, both verbally and through their bond. Covering his face with both hands, he finally got his breathing back in order and his hearts-rate down.

“Sorry,” he finally managed, once he was capable of speech again, though the single word came out hoarse and scratchy.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Rose asked, still not moving, hands fisted at her sides.

Focusing on their connection, he could feel her overwhelming concern … for him. Well, it did make sense in the ironic way these things always tended to. Since she had been asleep when he left her, the Doctor hadn’t put any thought into shielding. All of his emotions must have barreled into her like a freight train. Couldn’t have possibly been a pleasant way to wake up.

Reluctantly he dropped his hands, palms sliding down his face slowly as he gave up their paltry defense.

“Nothing’s wrong per se,” he hedged, wincing as her mental disbelief permeated their link. “It- it’s more complicated than that. It’s-”

He didn’t know how to explain it. His normally ever-present gob seemed to be offline now that he desperately needed it. Telepathic communication seemed to also be out, as his brain was still in the process of resettling from the accidentally self-induced bulldozing of his basic systems.

“It’s what?”

As the Doctor took another deep breath, Rose looked around, seeming to just realize where they were. She must have raced through the TARDIS to get to him in her worry. He felt incredibly guilty.

“It’s something that we would probably be much more comfortable discussing somewhere else,” he decided, scratching the hairs at the nape of his neck and looking down, shocked to realize that he was nearly naked. “Maybe after getting dressed. And a shower. Breakfast. Not in that order!”

Rose sighed and crossed her arms. The Doctor took a moment to notice her clothing, which consisted of a housecoat and slippers, but he couldn’t tell what she had on underneath (if anything).

“And then we’ll talk?” she questioned, both eyebrows raised, getting his mind back on track.

“Yes. Definitely. How does tea in the library sound?”

Her lips were pursed, but she eventually nodded.

“Good. Great! And I- I’m really, truly sorry for worrying you,” he sighed, finally moving forward and wrapping his arms around his impossible wife. It took a few moments before Rose relaxed into the embrace.

“This is about me, isn’t it?” she whispered after a few long, silent moments.

“Shh,” he scolded. “Shower first. Shower, clothes, food, then talking.”

Procrastination really is just a different type of running, and no one knew that better than the Doctor. He also knew that he wasn’t fooling Rose for a moment. Their bond was still wide open, the contents of their impending discussion only hidden due to the fact that it was all categorized in his mind as ‘scientific information’, and therefore held back by one of the many barriers he kept permanently in place so that he wouldn’t inundate his bondmate with headache inducing amounts of information.

“Alright then,” she conceded, “let’s get going.”

The Doctor took her hand as she pulled away, allowing himself to be led through his time ship. In his current, nebulous state he doubted he’d be able to find their room if he tried. He was just grateful that Rose understood that his desire to put off this conversation didn’t mean he wanted to be separated from her in the slightest.

It was funny, sometimes, to imagine that all of the effort he had previously put into studiously trying to not overwhelm her with just how much he wanted to almost always be in her presence had been completely inverted now that all of their cards were forever on the table.

They got into the shower together and he began to wash his wife’s hair as if on auto-pilot, only refocusing on the present moment when feelings of relaxation and contentment began to pierce through the veil of unpleasant emotions tangled across their shared minds. Once the shampoo rinsed away, the Doctor couldn’t stop himself from cupping her face and pulling her into a relatively chaste kiss. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince himself that everything would all truly be alright (for once). Because one thing that had been clear while looking through her scans was that Rose was perfectly healthy. Her life wasn’t threatened in the slightest.

Things were just … different.

Before he was quite ready, they had finished showering, were both fully clothed, somehow tea and toast had been made (though he barely remembered being in the galley), and they had reached the library. Rose immediately sat down on the sofa, a fire already crackling away in the grate. He followed her, taking a large gulp of his beverage the moment he sat down. For all of the time he had spent trying to organize his thoughts, they were still less than refined.

The problem was, despite being bonded and therefore having an intimate knowledge of her thought processes, the Doctor still couldn’t predict how she would react to any of what he’d discovered in the hours his wife had spent sleeping. And despite the fact that she wasn’t actually saying anything, he did know that she was growing more and more impatient by the second.

“Sooo,” he began, hoping that the rest of the words would just happen, as it were, “this is cozy, innit?”

Obviously it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” she suggested.

“Oh, blimey, alright then. Well, billions of years ago, a cataclysmic explosion of a singularity caused what you could refer to as the Big Bang, Event One, or even just ‘creation’. It resulted in a very compact, tiny universe that was very dense and very hot, riddled with dimension pockets and full of space-time anomalies that are now considered exceedingly rare. These were the beginnings of the Dark Times, of which not much is known - time travel so far back was-”

“Doctor,” Rose interrupted, “does this have anything to do with what has you so upset? The, erm, results?”

“Ah, well, no … not as such. I mean, it’s tangentially related to absolutely everything, of course, but it … right, sorry.” He took another sip of tea, followed by a deep breath. The beginning, but not that beginning. “I finally tracked it down. Old texts, ancient, that had descriptions of telepathic marriage bonds. Took ages to find one that sounded right, though. Apparently most ancient Gallifreyans needed to have the assistance of an experienced telepath who specialized in this kind of thing in order to join their minds. Knew that couldn’t be right, so I kept on digging and when I-”

The words were flowing out now, faster than he could keep track of and for once he was aware of just how irrelevant they were. With a huff he stood up and began to pace in front of the fire, hoping that the movement would help.

“Very old, very rare, very specific. That’s what our bond is. There isn’t even a translation for what they called it, the word would be absolutely meaningless to anyone else, anyone who hasn’t experienced it for themselves. It’s the specificity, though, that made me realize that there was much more at work than just your growing telepathic abilities. When I went to the infirmary, it was really a toss up - either I was right or I was wrong and hadn’t found the proper information yet.”

“But you weren’t wrong, were you?” She bit her bottom lip, eyes tracking him as he moved back and forth across the sitting area that for once seemed much too small.

“No,” the Doctor sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “The 6D scans will probably be ready later today, but I didn’t need those. Just different graphs of your base scans to measure different things. The thing is,” he nearly shouted, “if I hadn’t been about to regenerate, and then freshly regenerated, and then unpardonably distracted, I should have done this all ages ago! Quick as I could after I’d taken the Vortex out of you.”

“Think we were a bit busy savin’ the Universe to bother with all that,” Rose pointed out, comfort and understanding passing over to him through their link, along with a few spikes of irritation and general chastisement for pointlessly blaming himself for something yet again.

“And what’s my excuse for after all that?” he drawled, unwilling to let her absolve him for this appalling negligence of her health and well-being. What kind of doctor was he, if he couldn’t be arsed to take adequate care of the woman he loved?

“Maybe, I dunno, the fact that I felt absolutely fine? That we were busy navigating all your new quirks and preferences while still saving planets? Anyway, you still haven’t even told me what’s going on.”

The Doctor scrunched up his face as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. She was right, obviously. Somehow he was still managing to procrastinate. His teeth ground slightly as he set his jaw and made his way back to the couch.

“You have a large amount of artron energy,” he began. “More than just background radiation. Way more. I would say life threatening amounts, except you also are absolutely riddled with huon particles. Also deadly.”

“Huon particles?”

“Eradicated by the Time Lords near the end of the dark times - oh, look at that, it all came back ‘round, sort of.”

“But you just said they were deadly,” Rose frowned. “Why does it sound like they’re a good thing? I mean, your people obviously had a reason for gettin’ rid of ‘em all. How’re they even there?”

Oh, his magnificent, brilliant, fantastic bondmate - always asking the right questions. A small smile lighted her face as she caught the thought.

“See, the TARDIS is connected to the Vortex, which goes all the way back - remnants of huon particles exist in her heart, which you opened up and used to merge with her, a whole fifth dimension running through the both of you. The huon particles are stabilizing the artron energy - it’s feeding them instead of overtly impacting the rest of your body. So in this case, this one case, the reemergence of deadly particles from the dawn of time is a good thing. Even so, that wouldn’t be enough, except you didn’t just merge with the Vortex alone but with the TARDIS. The TARDIS emits chronon particles, and one of the key differences between Time Lords and non-Time Lord Gallifreyans is that our bodies are surrounded by a bio-plasmic field of chronon energy, allowing us to bond with a TARDIS.”

“Oh. Right, that’s why when you were sick the TARDIS wasn’t working properly. Couldn’t translate for us.”

“Yes, yes, exactly.” The Doctor got back to his feet, the need to pace outweighing his desire to remain close to his wife. “Now, the thing about having a surrounding field is that it can, er, leach on to others. Infect them. Not in a bad way. It’s what provides me with protection from the time stream, helps with cell rejuvenation, etcetera. So actually, if a bit of it didn’t migrate away to those I’m close with, I’d never be able to bring anyone along on the TARDIS with me. Too dangerous. Thing is, you have your own now, not just an echo of mine. Which makes sense. You two became one, of course she would bond with you as well. Thing is, to do that - your DNA, Rose. Becoming Bad Wolf. It’s given you symbiotic chronon nuclei.”

“And what’s that, then? Something to do with the chronon particles?”

“In a sense. It’s only viewable with a temporal reading, which the TARDIS base scans do automatically, because that’s what’s normal for me. She doesn’t change protocols just because the other person she’s scanning happens to be human. I’ve mentioned before that I have TNA. Triple helix instead of double, yes?”

Rose nodded, taking a wary sip of her tea.

“Well, it’s actually a bit more complicated than that. Properly, temporally scanned it’s actually four strands. That symbiotic chronon nuclei is the physical, quasi-symbiotic link between the TARDIS and I. Now you have one too.”

“So wait, I’ve got four strands of DNA now? And we didn’t even notice?” Her mug clattered onto the table as she deposited it and stood quickly.

“No, no, no, just the three. No TNA. But this is where things get complicated.”

“You mean there’s more ?” she screeched, going paler than she already had been, thoughts becoming a whirl of panic. “Isn’t it complicated enough?!”

“Weeeeeell, let’s go back to that third strand I’ve got, yeah? It’s pretty much, and by pretty much I mean almost the sole reason, that regeneration is possible. Stores all the information for past and future incarnations, as well as other things,” he explained, waving his hands around, “and as far as I understood it, that’s what allowed for a Gallifreyan’s self-replicating biogenic molecules.”

“Your what?”

“Remember the nanogenes?” he asked, finally walking back to her in order to weave their fingers together.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Gallifreyan bodies have something like that. Biological nanites. Not only do they allow for regeneration, but on a daily basis they repair and prune any damaged or malformed cells. Hence why we age so slowly. I’ll look just like this for hundreds of years yet.”

She nodded slowly. “And lemme guess, I’ve got those too, somehow.”

“Yes. Though wired differently than mine, You’re still human , Rose. Just … with genetic modifications. Powerful genetic modifications. Obviously meant to keep you alive, because really, thinking about it properly, you shouldn’t have survived the trip back to the gamestation, much less been able to accomplish everything you did. A symbiotic self-renewing cell structure is really the obvious solution to the problem, and if you did have TNA like I do, the gigantic surge of artron energy would have triggered a regeneration, just like it did for me. But your body doesn’t work that way, so it just- just healed the damage, no mess, no fuss.”

“And they’re still there now, healing stuff?”

The Doctor nodded.

“So what does it all mean, then, exactly? Without all of the science babble.”

“Without it?” He winced at the way his voice nearly squeaked.

“As little of it as you can get away with,” Rose conceded, the smidge of laughter in her voice doing wonders for his frayed nerves.

“Alright. Well, your cell death is almost non-existent. Your brain activity, in addition to the new telepathic adjustments, has increased in both capacity and function. You likely haven’t noticed because you haven’t tried to stretch things more than average, and why would you? Despite all of these changes, it’s not like you really knew about them or have had any sort of training on how to incorporate them aside from our telepathy lessons. With the way you’re connected to the TARDIS, you could probably learn to sense time. That’s what allows for most of my time senses, by the way.”

“Doctor, less babble,” his wife helpfully reminded him.

“Right, yes, well,” he swallowed audibly, “the main thing is … you’re not going to age at the same rate as everyone else you know. Everyone human, that is. There’s no way for me to be certain how long your life might be, since our timelines are too tightly wound together.”

“They are?”

“Of course they are.” At this, the Doctor finally smiled, wrapping his arms around her. “That’s the thing, the crucial thing, about the bond. Why I needed to check the scans to make sure. It exists not just because we love each other, not just because we have compatible minds, but because our timelines were able to be synced. Literally able to be together forever, however long forever might be. This connection we have, it’s not the kind that can be forced, it can only happen spontaneously. In fact, from what I’ve read, the existence of this form of bond is exactly why the practice of making less deep and all encompassing ones came into being. Others who weren’t as, as destined for each other, for lack of a better word, wanted the same kind of intimacy. And of course it fell out of favor, not just because of Gallifrey’s abandonment of emotional ties in general, but because of the pain associated with losing a partner you’ve permanently telepathically merged with.”

“So that, us … we won’t have that?”

“I can’t view my own timeline and I can’t view yours, but I do know that they’re so tightly twined that you can’t tell the two apart. I can feel it, and maybe someday you will be able to on your own, but for now I can always show you,” he offered.

“I- I’d like that, but …” Rose trailed off, biting her lip and looking away.

“What?”

“’S just, you were so, so upset earlier. And it’s definitely a lot to take in, but, I mean, doesn’t it all seem like a good thing?” she asked, turning back toward him, eyes locking with his and broadcasting her pained confusion just as adequately as the bond itself was.

“For me? Of course it is, and the selfish part of me has never been more happy. But Rose, you have to understand that I wasn’t trying to be dramatic that night, outside of the chippy, when I said that my lifespan was a curse. You’re going to outlive everyone you know and love, aside from me. You won’t age at the same rate that they do. And I know that it’s expected for children to outlive their parents, but you’re going to spend far longer without your mother than with her. This … it was never something I wanted for you, the pain of so many goodbyes.”

Rose shut her eyes before burrowing her head into his chest, holding him tighter. For a long time they were silent, though the Doctor could hear her racing thoughts as she tried to process all of the information he had shoved at her in such a short period of time. He was content to just hold her, rubbing a soothing arm up and down her back until a singular thought rang out across their bond that had her gasping and him groaning.

We have to tell mum.

The Doctor spun around the console in a whirlwind, Rose clinging to the jumpseat. He could feel her trepidation as they landed, her worry about her mother’s reaction to their news. So he wasn’t surprised in the slightest at her shock upon opening the TARDIS' door and finding them very much not on Earth.

“Think your driving’s a bit more off than usual,” she noted vaguely as he finally stepped away from the console to grab his jacket.

“Is it really?” He gave her a look of wide eyed bewilderment, just as his thoughts inevitably revealed that he had had no intention of making the trip to Jackie’s - yet.

Rose crossed her arms, giving him an unconvincing glare as the Doctor finally met her at the door and stuck his head outside.

“Ah, perfect!” he exclaimed. “Right where I wanted to be.”

“Oh, really? And where’s that then?” his wife asked, finally stepping out of their ship and having a look around. There were rows and rows of stalls and booths as far as the eye could see.

“It’s a bazaar. On an asteroid. Moves around every four cycles to a different asteroid in a different sector. Used to just be a handful of merchants and artisans and performing artists, a sort of circus, if you will, only without the mistreated animals and exploited people. Was called Mz’trak’s Marvelous Moving Menagerie - gotta love that alliteration, absolutely amazing. But as you can see, it grew. Doesn’t have a name now. Too much going on. Still, organized enough to make it’s trip across the quadrant. They span galaxies, Rose Tyler! This is the place to go to find anything you could possibly imagine!”

“Okay,” she said slowly, drawing out the word as she turned back to face him. “And what, exactly, are we lookin’ for that’s so important that you’re putting off visiting mum?”

“Oh, right, see, about that - I thought, maybe, just maaaybe, you’d be able to find something for her here. To, erm, soften the blow, as it were. Butter her up a bit.” Make her less likely to regenerate me, he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to. The thought was pretty much blaring on a loop that his bondmate was unlikely to miss.

“Seriously?! Doctor, if you hide away again and force me to have this talk all on my own, I swear-”

“No, no, I won’t! We’ll do this together, I promise!” he hastened. No need to have two angry Tylers on his hands.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you’re so afraid of her,” Rose said with a roll of her eyes before taking his hand and beginning to walk through the market.

Normally she buzzed up to nearly every stall, wanting to see as many strange and novel alien things as possible, but this time his wife was quickly passing them by, categorizing everything in their immediate vicinity as ‘too alien’. Admittedly, the Doctor hadn’t given that much consideration when he decided that a gift for his mother-in-law would be a good plan.

“It’s a premonition I have, really,” he told her, “that your mum will be the death of me. Unlikely, I’ll give you that, but you never know. Sometimes these things have merit. I was once very good at that kind of thing, seeing the future. Well, not really. More like an unconscious tracking of future timelines that seems like a form of prescience but is really-”

“You are so full of it,” Rose laughed. “But speaking of past yous, I’m not going to regenerate, am I?”

While the Doctor had thought that he’d been very clear in the library earlier, perhaps he hadn’t explained very well. Too much ‘science babble’, probably.

“Nope,” he assured her, popping the ‘p’ and giving her one of his best grins.

“So Bad Wolf didn’t make me into a Time Lord. Just …”

“Bad Wolf didn’t do any such thing,” he frowned. “If you want, I can show you the second by second time stamps of the scans the TARDIS took of you during all that - constant state of danger, there’s hundreds of them. But no, the TARDIS did all of that herself so that you two could become Bad Wolf. If you recall, our ship is a multidimensional alien being that even I don’t completely understand. And she likes you. A lot. Didn’t want you to die.”

He stopped himself, barely, from continuing on (again) about how he should have realized this all ages ago. There was really no point to it, just his wounded ego. Plus, who had time for brooding, anyway?

“Sure she doesn’t just like you a lot?” his wife asked with a smirk. “Y’know, making sure the girl her pilot likes so much has a matching lifespan?”

The Doctor abruptly stopped his near-skipping and pulled Rose into his arms with a growl.

“Oh, I much more than like you, Rose Tyler.”

“That so?” his cheeky wife asked him with a tongue touched grin.

Minx, he chastised telepathically, his mouth now busy as he dipped her into a snog that was likely inappropriate for public, but for once she wasn’t complaining.

“Also,” he added, after breaking the kiss so that she could catch her breath, “it would be Time Lady, you know. And that is a little complicated, now that I think about it. Because you’re not Gallifreyan, but not all Gallifreyan’s are Time Lords or Time Ladies. Then again, you have the bit of genetic jiggery pokery that makes a Gallifreyan a Time, er-”

“Let’s just go with Time Lord, yeah?”

“It’s a hypothetical political correctness jumble,” he muttered with a grimace.

“So I’m a bit like a human Time Lady? Kind of?”

“Kind of. Eh. Doesn’t really matter, though, does it?”

Rose had gone back to scanning the booths, but was quick to turn her sharp gaze back to him. “How could it not matter?”

“Well, I mean, you’re still Rose Tyler. Doesn’t matter to me, what kind of species you call yourself. The important thing is that you’re you, and I get to keep you.”

And the Doctor could tell that she didn’t exactly agree with him, all of the ramifications of this still buzzing around in her head and the impending talk with Jackie making her permanently anxious. But still, she smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Finally some stalls came up that looked promising and his bondmate began looking at things in earnest. As he watched her flit about, the thought began to really settle in. They would be able to stay together, not just for the very short human forever that he had struggled to come to terms with, but for his forever.

The weight of the Universe on his shoulders had never felt lighter.

It suddenly did seem a little bit ridiculous, all of his worries about Jackie’s reaction. At least when it came to him . Over 900 years old, he could (probably) take it. If anything, he was more concerned for Rose. If (or really, it was more likely to be when) her mother reacted poorly, she would undoubtedly be hurt.

Flashes of their ‘marriage announcement’ briefly passed through his mind.

This time, though, he would be there for her. Absolutely no swanning off or hiding or cowering of any sort. Well, minimal cowering. Can’t set the bar too high, knowing he was about to get a smack (even if none of it was actually his fault). It would all be worth it in the end, being able to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved.

“Do you think mum would like this?” Rose asked, interrupting his chaotic stream of thought.

“What’s that?” The Doctor walked closer to the booth, finally taking notice of his surroundings instead of blindly following his wife. “Oh! These are all made of bazoolium! That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed, touching a large piece that was either intended to be abstract art or a Raqkle Bear about to attack, unsurprised by the neutral temperature. After all there was no weather to speak of on the asteroid.

“Yeah, he was just tellin’ me that they could predict the weather,” she said, gesturing toward the shopkeeper. The Doctor barely spared him a glance before investigating the ones that were combined with wind chimes, surprised when the chimes were actually made of bazoolium as well.

“They’re not incredibly unlike the barometers you lot have, only much more accurate. The truly impressive part is the fact that this property is naturally occurring in the mineral. Plus there’s really not much interpreting to it - if it’s hot, you’ll have a nice sunshine-y day, and if it’s cold there’ll be rain. Or snow, I suppose. But all you have to do is touch it. Definitely simple enough for Jackie to get use of-”

He winced when Rose telepathically zapped him, which he really should have seen coming.

After apologizing, the Doctor (for the most part) kept his mouth shut as she selected a small one that looked as un-alien as possible, something that any of Jackie’s friends would look at and think was some random tchotchke, just a thing and then think nothing of it. As soon as she finished her purchase, he took her hand and reluctantly headed back the way they came.

In a private corner of his mind he had come up with thousands of different ideas for putting this next trip off, but eventually discarded every single one of them (even if some were astonishingly brilliant). His wife wanted to get this over with, so that’s what they were going to do.

If anything, he regretted putting all of their efforts into getting her mother some bauble to put her in a good mood when they should have also been coming up with a plan for distracting her after this ‘talk’.

“Distracting her? How would we possibly distract her?” Rose wondered aloud.

The Doctor felt strangely giddy, knowing that she’d been paying attention to him over the bond. They were starting to get pretty good at not constantly acknowledging all of the thoughts that were projected without real intent, so much so that he sometimes wondered if his wife was listening most of the time. His thoughts were very interesting, after all, so he wasn’t sure how she could ignore them if she wasn’t just tuning it all out.

She rolled her eyes, making it clear that she’d caught all of that as well.

“I don’t know,” he went on, “I’m not sure what would hold her attention, aside from gossip and telly. Maybe we should nip into the future, get some Eastenders DVDs. Or some tabloids. Then again, I doubt your mother could keep her future knowledge a secret and next thing you know, we’ll have a paradox on our hands. Can’t have that.”

Rose laughed as they entered the TARDIS.

“Dunno if it’s really much of a distraction, but I do have some laundry I’ve been meaning to bring over.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “I refuse to believe your mother actually enjoys doing your laundry. There’s a perfectly good laundry room in the TARDIS. You don’t even have to do much of anything. Just put your clothes down the chute and she’ll do all the rest, even the folding.” And yes, he had told her all of this before, on multiple occasions - every time she had laundry to bring back, in fact.

So the Doctor wasn’t surprised when she said, “It makes her feel useful. She likes doing mum stuff for me.”

She said something along those lines every time. This time, however, his responding ‘fine’ was telepathic, rather than verbal as he began piloting them into the Vortex and she disappeared down the corridor to gather said laundry.

Since he was going to have to wait until Rose was finished before flying them to Jackie’s (let it not be said that he can’t learn a lesson) he almost followed her to their room. But just as he moved away from the console, he sensed that his bondmate could use some privacy while she got her thoughts in order, trying to decide exactly what she was going to say to her mum, not wanting to get into absolutely everything.

So he sat down on the jumpseat, kicked his feet onto the console, and focused on sending soothing emotions over their bond. Eventually, Rose reappeared with her giant red duffle, looking plenty nervous but definitely less so than she’d been before.

“Ready?” he asked, hopping back to his feet.

“No,” she sighed, dropping the bag onto the newly vacated seat before flashing him a wary grin. “Let’s go.”

#dw fanfiction #ficandchips #ten x rose #timepetals #tenrose #dw classic trope event #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #my fic #fic: tangled timelines

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draconivn · 4 years

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012 | What Love Gave Us

Summary: It’s a date! Hatsuko tries to figure out what to give to Hideyoshi who always tries to give her everything. Warnings: Fluff, may have hints of spoilers for his route a little. SFW Pairings: OC x Hideyoshi (IkeSen) Author’s Note: This is a fic for @thatsmolart that I promised her. Sorry this got posted late!

Just… a bit more… I was lost in my own little world, my hands blindly reaching for my utensils with an instinct that seemed to know where everything was in its mess on my desk. Having colours would’ve made this a lot more interesting and more beautiful, but there was something so beautiful about art in its most rawest form on the hanging scroll in front of me. I had a couple of commissions for hanging scrolls on top of the sewing work I did, but it had been so long since I had been able to let go and draw whatever I felt like drawing.

I know that if I had dared to try attempting one of my commissions again, it just would’ve defeated the purpose of me having a day off.

But here, the art didn’t have to be perfect, yet without a single blemish or a stroke out of place, and it made it all the more beautiful when I raised it in the air to look at it better. Like this, the afternoon sun that poured in through my window danced across the page, making it look truly like a work of art. “Perfect,” I said with a smile, turning my gaze to the sun.

… And then I remembered.

“Oh no!” I was already making quick work of my brushes to clean them up. “Oh man, Hideyoshi’s going to kill me if I end up being late…” I let out an exasperated sigh, trying to put away everything. But it felt like someone was watching me. When I looked up, I saw the very man I had been hoping to meet today, his arms folded across his chest with a fond smile as he leaned against the door frame. I swore the sight of him was enough for my heart to make a funny skip and flutter like he always did.

“About time you noticed me,” he jokes, pushing away from the frame and coming over as I stood to greet him. “You need to be more on guard if I stood there for some time and you didn’t notice me.” His large hand rose up to rest on the top of my head as he started the hints of a lecture, his mothering tone starting to replace his velvet voice.

Without hesitation, my lips pursed into a pout and I tipped my head slightly so I could look up at him shyly from under his hand. “Hi, Hideyoshi.”

He blinks, almost like he’s taken aback before his expression softens, and his hand lowers to stroke through my hair. “Hi, Hatsuko.”

Sometimes a lecture would launch itself before we had the chance to say hi to each other, so it seemed like our little cue, and of course, my little secret of getting away from one of his lectures. Something about doing this just made me happy even if it was a simple hello.

“You’re being cute again,” he murmurs, his hand drawing me in by the back of my head to his chest for an embrace against his strong chest.

I’m sure I saw the flicker of pink on his chest before he had done so, like he was trying to hide that he was blushing. “I can’t help it,” I said against his chest, closing my eyes momentarily to inhale his scent. We stood like that for what seemed like moments, but he was the first one to break the embrace to pat my head once more.

“Ready to go?” he asks gently.

“Mhm!”

Hideyoshi kept me as close as he could whenever we had the chance. Ever since we told the other warlords about our relationship, somehow they turned into an army of overprotective brothers that Hideyoshi was before we became official and we hadn’t had much time together. One of them was always trying to occupy my time or his time until we only got to see each other after a couple of days, but I suppose that was the small trade-in sacrifice I had to take in exchange for having Hideyoshi to hold my heart.

Just like today, which would’ve been a full day off for the both of us to go into town, but because Nobunaga had things for Hideyoshi to do this morning, he promised to at least take me out on a date with me for the afternoon in town on top of some sort of surprise he had up his sleeve.

“Can’t you give me a hint of what the surprise is?”

He grins. “If I did, then I’d end up telling you what it is.”

It was busy for the late afternoon, with merchants working the stalls left and right.

A faint glimmer of colour reflected with the sun, making me slow down in my steps and nearly dislodge our intertwined fingers. “Hm?” It was a pristine hair pin, like it was made of glass, yet colourful with yellow petals and two green leaves behind it. It wasn’t heavy at all, as I had only realized after that I had picked it up.

“That’s a very fine hair pin, Lady Hatsuko,” the merchant called to us as he approached. His gaze seemed to do a little dance between Hideyoshi and I. You could say that we already knew him from the few times we passed his stall and Hideyoshi’s coin purse fought to open each time, but I had to stop him each time because I didn’t think I wanted the things there that much to buy. “They say that in other parts of the world, yellow is usually a colour of friendship, good news or well wishes, but this particular pin is special.”

“Hm? How?” Hideyoshi asked. The information would’ve probably been enough to discourage him from trying to pull out his coin purse at the fact that I so much as stopped to look at it, but a side glance was enough to tell me that he was curious about what made this hair pin so special.

“This flower in particular is the dahlia flower. It supposedly represents a commitment between two people, particularly marriage.” He cocks his head, as if waiting for a response from us, and he does seem to achieve it with my head looking away, a burn of my cheeks and Hideyoshi scratching the back of his head. The merchant could only chuckle. “Alternatively, it also represents beauty, elegance, and strength. But if it’s not quite the meaning you were aiming for, there are still more to browse through, my Lady.”

“Well…”

“We’ll take it.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “But Hideyoshi– We talked about this. You don’t have to buy me anything fancy.” This time, my protest fell on deaf ears as he handed over the money to the merchant and the object’s smooth texture left my palm for him to tuck it into my hair.

“Remember what I said? One day I’m going to marry you, Hatsuko. I’m going to make sure the others accept me to be the man for you.” He spoke so gently, so tenderly to me that I had forgotten where we were, or the fact that the man had brought out a small mirror for me to see what Hideyoshi had done with my hair to put in the pin.

There’s no way I can be mad about it when he puts it that way.

The colour on my cheeks lingered more than it should have, because it made the merchant beam with pride. “I think you made a wonderful choice, my Lord.”

“The pin or her?”

“Hideyoshi!” I don’t think I could handle this embarrassment that much longer with how he teased me, but we were soon left to wander around some more. He was always spoiling me, something that was completely separate from his mothering personality trait, so I wanted to give him something in return. My eyes were already scanning the parameter, hoping that he would stop to look at something that I could buy with the earnings from my commissions.

We must’ve stopped by many shops, especially the ones where I found my eyes wandering to, and I had to mentally scold myself for it. No, brain, bad! No pretty things! Only gifts for Hideyoshi!

“–you hungry?”

Hideyoshi’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me out to look up at him and blink. “Huh?”

“You spaced out there for a second. Are you okay?” Worry pulled his brows into a furrow, concern marring his expression as he leaned down to look at me. “Are you tired?”

“Huh? No, no, I’m okay. I was just… thinking.” Quick, brain, think of a lie! Something!

But he didn’t push for a reason, leaning back yet seemingly unconvinced. After a moment, he pushed it off, and asked the question I barely heard a moment ago. “I was wondering if you were hungry. We stopped at a few places but you didn’t seem to want to eat anything from there.”

“Oh! Uhm…” I looked back at the town behind us. “We did walk quite a bit but I don’t think I have a huge appetite yet? Probably when we get to dinner, I probably will be.”

Relief seemed to cross his features. “Good. C’mon. We have to hurry then.”

“Hurry? Why?” My question landed on the ground in the wake of our steps without an answer, heading in the direction of the castle where we ended up at the stables. “Hideyoshi, are you going to tell me where we’re going yet, or what this surprise is?”

“Not a chance,” he chuckled, helping me onto the horse. His arms wrapped around me securely, hands also on the reins for the horse to start heading off to our surprise destination. His breath fanned against my cheek as he kept me close, his sturdy chest at my back to support me and not once did I have to think about the possibility of falling off. “If you want, you can get some rest until we get there.”

My head craned to look at him. “And miss this view of you?”

The glow of the sunset danced upon his skin, blending his eyes and hair into different shades of sun-kissed gold. The tassels of his robes flapped slightly with the little gallops of the horse, taking us out of Azuchi and across the field. He grinned slyly at my remark, the different colours of light only making his expression all that more handsome.

Watching him take the reins like this was almost like him taking the reins of our relationship, like he was leading and I followed, yet there were times that he still put me ahead of himself. That was what made me admire him all the more in our ride to our destination, showing him nothing but love in how I looked at him, how I curled up to him on the horse. But eventually, our ride was coming to an end, the horse slowing down its gallop to a gentle trot and Hideyoshi’s hand that was at my back suddenly came up over my eyes. “Wha–”

He chuckled, the sensation rumbling in his chest. “I need you to close your eyes until I tell you to.”

“Can you at least give me a warning first?”

“You would’ve looked if I told you we were there,” he teases. A gentle tug and the horse stops. “I’m going to get off first, and then I’ll catch you.”

“Can I open my eyes at least for that?”

“Not a chance.”

I had to follow along, waiting for the cue to slide off the horse until he caught me in his arms. The scent of him confirmed that I hadn’t just been taken off the horse by some random man in an odd switch, but it felt like we were definitely walking through a field. The grass wasn’t high, but it was slightly hilly and a number of steps just to get me there. When we came to a stop, his hands left mine. “Hideyoshi..?”

“Hold on a bit longer.”

I felt the wind breeze gently past us, playing with my hair in a gentle tousle, but it wasn’t enough to rouse it from the way the pin kept my hair in. I tried to pick up what he was doing, but the silent noise was hardly anything to hint at, with the exception of the smell of food starting to waft towards my senses. Wait a minute…

“Ready?” Hideyoshi’s voice reached my ears before I could draw my conclusions. “You can open your eyes now.”

When I did, I wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of me. We were on a hill, in the perfect spot to watch the sun slowly fall over the horizon in the distance, a small tree sheltering us from any possible harsh winds, but it was to support us at our backs where the wind was coming from. Beneath it, Hideyoshi had a blanket set up with bento boxes out and lids popped off to let the smell waft towards me. There were also spare blankets, possibly Hideyoshi thinking that we might get cold out here.

It was beautiful.

I swore my cheeks hurt from how wide my smile had grown, and he reached out to offer me his hand so he could help me onto the blanket.

“My lady.”

“What a gentleman.”

He smiled, kissing the back of my palm. “I hope you’re hungry. I had Masamune cook all of your favourites.” With his other hand, he gestured to the food that was bare and handed me a pair of chopsticks.

“I hope he also cooked some of your favourites too.” Cooking wasn’t our strong suit like it was for the one-eyed warlord, but we still enjoyed the times we would cook together and eat together. “Oh! Hideyoshi, isn’t this your favourite too?” I picked up a piece and offered it to him, though it seemed to stun him and flinch his head back slightly. “Is something wrong?”

It took him a moment to recover, like the shock just needed a moment to go away. “Are you going to feed me, Hatsuko?”

He caught me red-handed. Biting my lower lip, I started to retract my hand, but he gently caught my hand so he could lean forward to take the bite I offered him. “We’re not exactly in public, but it’s embarrassing when you do that.”

“Says the one who started it.” He still manages to tease me with a grin, chewing that bite and swallowing it in time to quip back at me. He didn’t seem to let it go as we ate, each of us poking to give a bite to one another every now and then.

We talked and ate until our stomachs were filled, cleaning up and setting aside everything so we could cuddle and lean back against the tree. The sun had long since set, the moon hanging over us in the night sky with not a single cloud in the air. I was between his legs, my back against his chest as he held me tenderly, our eyes watching the sight of the sky in front of us. In the future of Japan, a sight like this would’ve never been possible with all of the buildings that stopped us from taking in this sight. Here, Sengoku Japan fought to expand its land, while the modern day fought to expand upwards. But I wouldn’t trade it to be away from the man I loved.

“Hatsuko?”

“Mhm...?” My answer was lazy with a gentle hum.

“When you were spacing out earlier, you were trying to figure out what to get me, weren’t you?”

I froze.

He chuckled. “You don’t have to buy me anything. I’m more than happy having you in my life.”

I turned my head to look at him. “You always spoil me, but I can never give you anything in return. I came here with barely anything, and you gave me everything. When I had the chance, I just wanted to be able to repay you for everything you give to me.”

“I still have that kimono you gave me.”

“And I still have the kimono, obi and hair pin you gave me.”

My points didn’t seem to get across to him as he chuckled, one of his hands coming up to trace the hair pin that was now in my hair. “You give me more than you think, Hatsuko. Even with these issues people keep saying I have, you still continue to show me love. You still love me for who I am – unconditionally, too – and haven’t let that step in the way of our relationship. You give me reason to make sure I come home and have a reason to look forward to the end of the day. I still want to have those with you, and that is more than what I have ever been able to give you. My gifts won’t be able to amount to that, so I give you everything that I have. Even my promise to marry you one day. If you want to give me something, then I’ll take all the love you give me, and I promise to return it tenfold because every day you love me, you save me from myself.”

His response left me speechless, the way he spoke with such love and passion that I couldn’t find the words to say. I wanted him to be able to learn his true value, to learn how he means so much more than he thinks of himself. And it was reaching him.

“I love you, Hideyoshi,” I whispered.

“I love you, Hatsuko,” he murmured. His hand slid from my hair to my cheek, and guided me up to him, his lips sealing over mine.

It wasn’t one of those playful kisses or one of those kisses where we greeted each other, but just pure love and joy as just a few of the emotions we wanted to share with one another. Love made us whole despite any brokenness, and our love was unconditional. His forehead touched mine as he gently broke the kiss, thumb caressing my cheek as we looked into each other’s eyes. In the glimmer of our gazes, we caught a stream of light dance across our faces that we looked up.

Streams of stars raced each other across the night sky, colouring the darkness with its bright lights.

We looked at each other with a smile, our eyes closing briefly with our foreheads touching to make our silent wish. When we had finished, we settled back against one another, his arms holding me safely as we watched the shower of stars guide everyone’s dreams of joy and happiness across the land.

Ours carried love.

#ikesen hideyoshi #ikesen hideyoshi fanfic #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku fanfic #hideyoshi toyotomi #toyotomi hideyoshi #ikesen: toyotomi hideyoshi #fanfics ;#fanfic: ikesen #minju fanfics ;#thatsmolart #fluff #fanfic: what love gave us

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quickspinner · 3 years

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H, J, T and Z for the fanfic writer ask, please?

H. How would you describe your writing style?

I don’t have a great answer here. It’s just...me? I feel like it’s way easier to describe someone else’s style than one’s own. I’m so sorry Airi I’m drawing a complete blank here. 😆 Introspective, maybe? I tend to focus more on thoughts and emotions than actions for sure. I like to explore my characters’ inner lives and emotional experience, and plot and setting and everything else are just a means to that end.

J. What’s your favorite fanfic trope? Have you written it?

😆I always feel stupid with questions like these because I need like, a list of tropes to choose from lol. As soon as someone asks me a question like this my mind goes completely blank and it’s like I never knew what a trope was. Ummmmm...I really like soulmates and meet cute type AUs, and I have written both. Honestly I used to hate AU fics, but then I realized...I’d only read ones that weren’t very good ones that were not to my personal taste. I used to wonder, what is the point of having two characters who are nothing like their canon selves except in name, in situations that are nothing like canon? Why not just write original fiction at that point?

Obviously, my viewpoint’s changed--I really enjoy the challenge of putting two characters in a different setting, considering what that setting would change about them, and trying to craft a narrative and emotional arc that’s still true to the characters within the parameters I’ve set for myself. Super fun, especially when there’s only limited canon to play with, or canon is unsatisfying. Canon fills out the characters for me, and then I pluck them up like little action figures and put them in my own universes.

As for soulmates, I know they’re kind of a love-it-or-hate it thing, but here’s my view: real life relationships aren’t like that. But sometimes I find comfort and joy in the fantasy of What If Things Were That Simple. Except they’re never actually that simple, it’s just complicated in a different way, and it’s interesting to me to think about how soulmates being a thing would change the world’s attitude towards love and coupledom. I also really love fics that explore a wider meaning for what constitutes a ‘soulmate.’ I could go on forever about how interesting I find the worldbuilding of it and all the interesting directions you could take it. I totally get people who don’t like soulmate AUs, I also think relationships, even between soulmates, are still work, and it doesn’t have to be a copout. I think of it like a neon sign that says “this person is very compatible with you” but you still have to put in the work to build the relationship.

Although treating it as a ‘you love this person immediately no matter what, even if you can’t stand them’ could also go interesting places, come to think of it.

T. Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

Not exactly? Almost anything can be fun if done well. I tend to be more leery about enemies to lovers and slow burns, because they’re so easy to do badly (or at least, in a way not to my taste) and bad ones drive me really nuts, and I’m not a fan for Unrelieved Angst, especially if it’s not purposeful.

Z. Is there a story you’ve written that doesn’t seem to get much love?

Honesty Indelible isn’t getting a whole lot of love right now, but I’m hoping that will pick up when it’s finished. I did splash an angst warning all over it, so I understand if angst isn’t something people want right now, or if people don’t want to venture until it’s complete (although we’re at a cheerfulish place right now, so you could probably read through the current chapter and be okay at the end of it). I get that people follow me mostly for fluff and cuteness, and I take a risk when I venture outside my brand, so to speak, but that’s okay. I’m still invested in the story and the people who ARE reading it are awesome and beloved, so it’s all good.

Thanks Airi! 💜

Ask meme

#quickanswers #ask meme

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cakelanguage · 3 years

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At long last, I bring an update for my “Dorian as a young boy” fic! This fic is the most intimidating to write because I want to do justice to the characters, but that makes me less excited to write which isn’t fantastic lol

I hope you enjoy this update!

First//Previous//Next

You can also read it on AO3 ----

For his time here, Dorian was supposed to be under the watchful eye of the Iron Bull and his Chargers. Despite this, the Iron Bull had given him a long look before slapping him on the back.

“Listen, Dorian,” the Iron Bull said, “I’m going to be making sure you don’t get into trouble, but I’m not going to prevent you from a bit of exploring.” He paused. “Actually, stay away from the advisors if you can, I doubt they’ve gotten over your eavesdropping.”

“In my defense, I needed to get them to understand,” Dorian replied.

Bull shook his head, a grin fighting to spread. “Don’t think they’ll care about that so much as it was a kid they don’t know they can trust yet.”

Well, Dorian supposed that was wise to consider before he upset the wrong person.

“Fine,” Dorian conceded, “I guess I’ll try to find this ‘chuckles’ Varric mentioned.”

“Solas? you’ll find him near the houses to the right of the Chantry. We don’t have a lot of elves around here so he should be pretty easy to find.”

He nodded. “Right, well I’ll be seeing you-”

“Wait, before you go bothering him, a word of advice,” the Iron Bull poked him in the center of his forehead, ignoring Dorian’s disgruntled huff. “Solas doesn’t like Tevinter. Actually, that’s an understatement; he hates Tevinter and their view on the slavery of the elves. Be prepared for him to question you.”

“About slavery?”

“Check if you have any ingrained prejudices, problematic thinking, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, so an interrogation?” Dorian’s face fell. “Lovely.”

The Iron Bull shrugged. “He’ll either like you or he won’t, it’s not more complicated than that.”

Dorian reluctantly nodded. “Well, thank you for warning me, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Just be back when the sun starts to set, alright?”

“Yes I hear you, can I go now?” He knew he was being impatient but he couldn’t bring himself to disguise the frustration in his voice.

Bull crossed his arms and gave him a sharp smile. “Stay out of trouble, Dorian.”

That was Dorian’s idea but he nodded along anyway. “See you by sunset.”

Trudging through the snow to the collection of homely cottages he started gathering the questions he wanted to ask Solas. What stories did he have from the Fade? Was he part of a clan? Why did he join the Inquisition?

Except he couldn’t see the elf anywhere amongst the cottages. There was just a woman carrying out linens to be washed, and a slightly cross looking man. The others had been so sure that Solas would be here but it was just Dorian’s luck that the elf had vanished.

“Have you seen an elf around here?” Dorian asked.

The man shrugged. “Solas sometimes takes a stroll to the pond outside of Haven,” the man informed, leaning back against his door. “Keeps to himself mostly, but if you get him started he’ll talk your ear off.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“I’m a healer, mostly I just tend to whoever comes back from a mission and make potions and elixirs for the Herald’s party.” A grin adds youth to his face. “It’s nice to have something to break up the monotony.”

“Well, I guess I’ll try the pond.”

“Good luck, you’ll know him when you see him,”: the healer sniggered and Dorian was reminded of Sera’s laughter at pointing out the other elf’s hair situation.

The walk to the pond was quiet and he easily dodged busy men and women whose faces were drawn and shoulders heavy. Dorian tried not to make eye contact with any of them lest he wanted to enter a conversation with him. He just needed to find Solas and then go about the rest of his day.

Just like the healer had said, he spotted Solas walking along the edge of the pond. His shoulders were broad and led to a tapered waist and Dorian couldn’t help but admire the elf’s silhouette.

He trotted up beside the elf with a hint of trepidation. “Solas?” Dorian called out as he reached him.

The man turned his attention towards him with a curious expression. “How can I help you?” Solas asked calmly.

“Aeren- The Herald told me you’re a mage.”

“I am.”

“And I was wondering if you could tell me about the Breach.”

“I can.”

The short answers had Dorian’s enthusiasm wilting. “What if I said please?”

Solas’ lips quirked upwards at that. “I’d say you have manners, at least when it comes to asking questions.” He examined him and Dorian fought the urge to squirm under the accessing gaze. “But you have not introduced yourself as of yet.”

He felt his cheeks pink. “Dorian of House Pavus, how do you do?” Dorian introduced with a bob of his head.

The quirk to the man’s lips disappeared. “You’re the one from Tevinter that everyone is up in arms about.”

“Surely not everyone.” Please let it not be everyone.

“Those of Tevinter rarely travel south of the Free Marches if they can help it, it is no surprise that people would be wary especially given that Tevinter mages have managed to ensnare the Rebel mages into indentured servitude.”

“Not officially, just yet.” It’s a weak protest and he knows it all too well.

Solas tilts his head in acknowledgment. “No, but Tevinter’s idea of indentured servitude is only a hair’s breadth away from slavery.” There’s a bitter tilt to his mouth now. “But I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

The silence stretches between them and for once Dorian is in no rush to fill the silence. Solas’ words echo heavily in his chest, an unfortunately familiar ache settling beneath his sternum.

Guilt.

Felix had told him many times that Dorian had a guilt complex that encompassed the stretch of Tevinter; convinced that he had somehow failed or neglected to do more to help in some way. Carrying the weight of his country’s wrongdoings on his shoulders like a mantle of culpability.

But maybe he could be doing more in some way. Been more outspoken, started the foundations of a revolution to put an end to slavery, aided in an exodus of elves to flee his homeland. Something. But he’s also still just a child no matter how much he wants to proclaim otherwise.

Despite his magical prowess, he has no power when it comes to his people just yet.

“Do not mistake my words as an attack on your character, da’len,” Solas said, letting his gaze refocus on Dorian. “I’m simply lamenting a world that was.” Solas’ voice is considerably softer, if not melancholic than it was moments prior.

Dorian gave him a shallow nod of acknowledgment. “For what it’s worth,” Dorian said, turning his gaze back to the pond. “I’m sorry for what my people have done to yours.”

Solas gave him a mirthless laugh. “Elves have hurt their own plenty all on our own.” Dorian wants to ask him what he means by that but the elf continued with nary a pause. “And although an apology can’t fix all that has been done by your people, I can say that you have a good heart, Dorian of House Pavus.”

He flushed at the comment and shook his head. “I’m just saying what’s right.”

“It’s sometimes easier to agree with a wrong than it is to stand up for a right.” Solas looked once more at the Breach before turning around. “I think it’d be best if I answered your questions at another time. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to be alone now.”

Dorian nodded, thanking his lucky stars for an excuse to leave the situation. “Of course, another time then.”

Another small smile was given to him before Solas continued his methodical stroll around the parameter. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Solas, but he’d seen something in the man’s eyes - a longing and melancholia that he’d only seen in the oldest of elves at his own home. What that longing was for he did not know.

For a moment he just stood there, taking in the sight of the snowy peaks and frozen surface of the pond. It was oddly peaceful, even with the Breach tinting everything an odd green that might’ve reminded him of a particularly early spring if he hadn’t been shivering as the bitter cold seeped through his clothes.

Distantly he could hear the soldiers training, the clang of their swords and grunts of exertion. He could hear the crackle of energy from the Breach from where he was standing, but he half thought that he was imagining the noise. It sounded just like the rifts from inside the Chantry, ripping the fabric of reality to pour forth demons.

But what bothered him the most is that he couldn’t hear the birds. Not a sweet song settled on the wind or the flap of wings fluttering amongst the trees. It was as if they had no sound like the Breach had swallowed them whole.

He turned away from the pond, quickly burying his train of thought with a renewed energy to find something to preoccupy himself with. He considered finding Aeren, but he knew the Herald would be pressed for time by his advisors and his other commitments to have time for Dorian’s brand of pestering.

Varric was a good choice as well but he still hadn’t apologized for giving him the slip and though he wouldn’t mean it, he should still apologize. And he wasn’t quite ready for that - being forgiven so easily when it’d been a breach of trust. The others were still strangers and he wasn’t sure where he stood with the group all things considered.

So really he only had one option left: The Iron Bull.

Dorian turned to look at the qunari that appeared to be lazily taking in his surroundings while talking to a man dressed in armor. One of his company perhaps, Dorian mused as he tentatively made his way over. It would probably help him get over his bloody paranoia about the qunari which he was determined to get over as soon as possible.

The Iron Bull noticed him first and tossed him a lazy wave. “Back already, Dorian?” The Iron Bull asked.

He threw up his hands in exasperation before letting them fold petulantly against his chest. “Solas wasn’t available for talking at the moment, predisposed to his own thoughts for the time being and I figured Aeren has things to do besides entertaining me.”

“I’m surprised I was your next choice.”

You weren’t, Dorian bit his tongue to hold back his comments. “Well,” Dorian paused to sort his thoughts as quickly as he could. “You didn’t seem to be preoccupied so I figured I’d just stay with you.”

The other man snorted and nudged his elbow against the Iron Bull’s side. “You gonna introduce me to the tiny ‘vint?” he asked, turning fully to look at Dorian.

It’s then that Dorian noticed the details of the man. The earthy, brown-gold complexion, sharp cheekbones, and strong jaw. The stitching of his clothes were the same ones in his own leathers. A stitching technique that Dorian knew was only used in one place as Maevaris was adamant he knew the nuances of fashion.

“You’re from Tevinter,” Dorian gasped. He never expected to see another of his people in Fereldan, let alone one who appeared to be part of a company led by a qunari.

The man nodded with a grimace. “I was,” he conceded. “But Tevinter is no home to me.”

Dorian’s shoulders drooped. “Oh." He couldn't hide how he felt like the wind was knocked from his sails nor the disappointment edging at the single word.

He shouldn’t have hoped. It was foolish. People didn’t like Tevinter, not most people that is. Tevinter wasn’t kind. It wasn’t full of happiness or pleasantry for the lower class. It was a constant game of masks and prejudice. He didn't blame anyone for fleeing its borders nor who resented the place.

Dorian never looked at his home through a rose-wine filter, but it was still his home. And he wished he had someone who understood a longing for that.

Not for the first time, he wished Felix was here.

“None of that,” the man nudged him with the back of his wrist. “Tevinter showed my family no kindness, but that doesn’t mean you can’t miss it.” The man shrugged and gave him a cursory look. "What gave me away? Most people don't notice if I don't mention it."

Dorian's cheeks heated at the question and he focused back on the man's armor. "The stitching in your leather," he said with a gesture, "I've only seen it in Tevinter."

The Iron Bull let out a low whistle. "Very observant of you," he praised offhandedly.

Dorian shuffled darting his eyes between the two before gesturing to his clothes. "Mine have the same stitching."

The man laughed and picked at a piece of his leather. "You'd think you were a tailor's son with that kind of observation," the statement was rhetorical as he kept talking. "The name's Krem."

No last name or title, just a name, and Dorian wasn't even sure if it was Krem's full name or not. "Dorian of House Pavus," he introduced.

"Didn't think pedigree 'Vints ventured this far south."

"Not usually," Dorian conceded, "But Felix asked for my help and I couldn’t let him down.”

“Felix is the other ‘Vint helping us in Redcliffe,” the Iron Bull explained.

Krem nodded his head with a smile. “Certainly loyal to this Felix.”

“Felix is my brother,” Dorian explained with a smile of his own. He didn’t explain himself further than that.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” the Iron Bull asked.

Dorian shrugged and kicked a bit of snow with his boot. “Whatever you’re doing I suppose.”

The grin that spread across the qunari’s face was positively excited. “Wanna meet my crew?”

The Chargers, with all their lack of manners and crude humor, were probably up there with Aeren and Varric as far as his favorite people he’d met so far. They took no shit and were unashamedly loud, boisterous in their tavern songs and stories. Dorian found himself listening intently too afraid he’d miss what would happen next to pay attention to Rocky sneaking bits from his plate.

“I think we were still finding feathers in our things after a week,” Krem finished with a laugh and a swig from his tankard.

Dalish shook her head, a sparkling of mischief dancing across her features. “Never really figured out how the feathers got into our supplies in the first place,” she mused.

“But it definitely worked in distracting those men in the woods near that one guy’s house,” Rocky said, tearing through his third roll.

The others nodded and Dorian couldn’t help but laugh at their attempt at serious faces. This was perhaps the most fun he’d had in a long while - since before Felix had gotten sick and things had started to unravel and chip around him.

And not once had he flinched away from the Iron Bull.

While he still wanted to ask Solas all the questions he could think of before he was inevitably ushered away, meeting the Bull’s Chargers was just as nice. And provided a wonderful distraction from the nerves that lit up his mind as he thought about the mission tomorrow.

Heading back to Redcliffe was both undeniably tense and laid back in a way Dorian wasn't expecting. For the first quarter of the journey, they traveled with a hoard of the Inquisition's soldiers. They were disciplined and traveled with a one-track mind as they eventually all passed their group. He wondered if all the soldiers had experience before this or if Cullen had managed to train them to be that way.

"They're going on ahead of us?" Dorian asked as the last soldier passed them.

Aeren nodded as he twirled one of his axes around. "They have to sneak into the castle after all," Aeren said. "Besides traveling with such a big group would only cause us trouble. Imagine what the Templars and Rebel mages would do if they saw such a gathering."

Dorian hadn't even thought about the warring groups that were still avidly fighting around the Hinterlands. "Makes sense."

"Course it does, the advisors came up with that one." Aeren grinned, tilting his head like some overgrown Mabari pup.

Varric snorted beside him. "You sure are proud about those advisors of yours having used their common knowledge."

"Varric, we all know that I'm not the brains in any of this." He pressed his lips together like he was holding back a laugh. "I'm just the man with the glowing hand."

Cassandra let out a disgruntled huff. “You could try to pick up on some of our tactics,” she said.

“And deprive you all of your advisings?” Aeren put a hand to his chest. “I wouldn’t dare.”

A large, meaty hand clapped Aeren on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll pick up on things the more you work with them,” Bull reassured.

“There is one bit of advice I can offer,” Aeren turned his attention back to Dorian, “You’re going to have to remain hidden at least a little when we get there.” He pointed at Dorian’s robes and made a slouching motion. “Maybe fashion some of that drapey fabric to make a hood or something.”

Dorian tugged at his robes self-consciously. “I can, but…” And then it occurred to him: Alexius would recognize him instantly without something to shadow his face. The man had known Dorian for years and could easily pick him out in a crowd even if he wasn’t currently “peacock-ing” as his mentor liked to put it.

He shrugged his bag to one shoulder and pulled some of the extra fabric to the side and then maneuvered it to drape over the top of his head. With the hood as situated as it would get without taking off his bag, he repositioned his pack to its usual position.

“Now you look like chuckles,” Varric laughed.

Tilting his head and squinting for a moment at Dorian, Aeren too let out a snort. “I see it.”

Dorian frowned and crossed his arms. “‘Chuckles’ and I still haven’t really talked,” he said tartly. His conversation with Solas had yet to leave him alone.

Aeren gave him a wolfish grin. “Please call him chuckles to his face when I’m with you, I want to see that dread enter his eyes.”

“I thought you liked Solas,” the Iron Bull admitted, raising a scarred brow.

The Herald shrugged. “He’s a knowledgeable man and I’ve never met an elf that has such tales about our culture.” Aeren’s eyes had a far-off look to them before that gleam of mischief returned. “But that repressed look of disdainful horror that he gets if you say something stupid is more precious than all the Silverite in the Frostback Basin.”

The comment made them all laugh, not even Casandra was immune to Aeren’s statement even if she was desperately suppressing it to a simple quirk of her lips.

He could fulfill Aeren's one wish. "When we get back, set up a meeting with Solas and I'll make it happen," Dorian reassured.

"You're one of the good ones, Dorian," Aeren said with a smile.

If only he felt like one of the good ones.

Redcliffe was just as unnerving as it had been when he'd been here last, but now there was a quiet anxiety that permeated the air. The people stared at their small group, turning away to talk to each other in hushed words when they passed by.

It made the hairs on Dorian's neck stand on end and he gravitated closer towards Varric. He didn't know if the others had picked up on the stifling atmosphere, but Dorian felt like the air was getting thicker the closer they got to the castle.

The dwarf nudged him with his elbow. "Don't pay them any mind," Varric said. The frown Dorian made was only visible to Varric because of their height difference. "Pretty sure these folks just want something to talk about that isn't about the Rebel Mages and the Templars fighting on their doorstep."

It was by no means the first time Dorian was being watched with whispered slander falling from his "audience's" mouths, but this was different. Perhaps it was because Dorian knew that he was walking towards Alexius, who’d been not only his teacher but a pseudo-father to him as well. But he had to do this, especially since Alexius had allied himself with these Venatori.

Despite knowing that, it didn’t provide much comfort to his conscience.

Aeren didn’t seem to mind the stares at all, his gate sure and his face placid. “A warm welcome for us once again,” he said amiably. “With such hospitality, I really should’ve brought Alexius a fruit basket.”

“Herald, will you focus?” Cassandra huffed.

“I am focused,” Aeren turned to look at them as he kept walking. “But if I go in with a dour look everything will seem suspicious.”

The Iron Bull grinned and made a thoughtful hum. “He was jovial when we spoke with Alexius before, and to maintain the cover that the Inquisition is agreeing to ally themselves with Alexius’ goals, a pleasant demeanour seems to be the best idea,” Bull said.

The Herald gestured his hand at Bull. “Thank you, Bull, glad you realized what I’m doing.”

Dorian bobbed his head from side-to-side. “So keep up appearances?” Dorian mused aloud. “Yes, Alexius probably won’t even notice at first since people in Tevinter wear masks like that almost every day.”

Cassandra still didn’t look convinced. “It would still do some good to act a little more serious as we’re acting as diplomats and not just hearing an offer,” she said as they approached the hill that led to the castle entrance.

“You’re plenty serious for the rest of us, Seeker,” Varric remarked as they approached the guards at the door.

“For good reason.”

The guards squared their shoulders and gave them a once over. “State your business,” he said.

Aeren stepped forward with his arms spread. “Surely Alexius is expecting us, is he not?” Aeren asked.

The answer wasn’t sufficient as the guards didn’t move. “Is that your business?”

With a huff, Aeren nodded his head. “Yes, our business is to talk with Alexius about his offer.”

With synchronicity, the guards grabbed the door handles and pulled the heavy doors open. A guard stood waiting for them in the now open doorway.

“Follow me, I’ll take you to Alexius,” the guard said, pivoting on the spot as she began leading them down a series of corridors.

The architecture in Redcliffe Castle was beautiful in its simplicity. Whereas the majestic buildings in Tevinter had vaulted ceilings inscribed with detailed paintings of myths and their heritage, Redcliffe Castle seemed to have preserved much of its decorum to the church.

The castle wasn’t ugly, but there was a utilitarianism to its overall design. The walls were thick and the ceiling was high, and the sparse torches cast an ominous glow about the hallway making their shadows look like looming figures trailing behind them.

The castle was somehow more of an unnerving setting than those he’d been in when he’d studied with the Mortalitasi for a time.

They walked past a multitude of doors and side hallways and Dorian’s mental map of the place was practically nonexistent. Just how far was the throne room from the entrance?

His question became obsolete as they took a final set of stairs up to another grand set of double doors that were opened on their arrival to let them into the throne room.

Aeren strutted forward with his shoulders squared sparing their guard a look. “Announce us,” he said.

Another guard approached them. “The invitation was for Master Lavellan only,” he clarified as if they’d brought a whole group by mistake. “The rest of you must wait here.”

But Aeren didn’t pause. “They have to accompany me.” He sent the man a lazy grin. “I tend to fall into mischief as it were, and you wouldn’t deprive me of my attaché, would you?”

The man looked like he swallowed a lemon as he looked at their little group, finally nodding his head and turning back around to face Alexius, walking further into the room.

Anxiety clawed at Dorian’s stomach as he felt more mages follow up behind them to flank the group. He hoped that the soldiers got in okay and they’d have back up soon.

Dorian took a cursory peak from behind the Iron Bull to take it in his mentor and Felix. Felix looked about the same, but he was leaning himself against the stone pillar behind him that came off as relaxed as opposed to weak.

Alexius on the other hand looked terrible. Purpled bruises highlighted the folds underneath his eyes and there was a tightness to his mouth that almost had his lips pressed into a white line on his face. He could even spot a smattering of gray that now decorated the patch of hair underneath his bottom lip.

He shook his head and focused back on the conversation at hand.

“-I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties,” Alexius said.

A woman all but marched up to their group, a frown hardening her features, her attention directed solely at Alexius.

“Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” a heavily accented voice asked.

Alexius gave her a patronizing smile that Dorian hated. “Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.”

Aeren gestured to the woman. “If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of these talks, then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition,” he explained with that same easygoing smile.

The woman in question seemed surprised at his answer but nodded her head. “Thank you,” she replied.

“Well I wouldn’t stop you from having a say in your own lives, you mages aren’t bargaining chips.”

Except they were, at least to Alexius.

His mentor turned away from them to make his way back to the throne where he lounged confidently back into. “The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them,” Alexius explained. “So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

Dorian had seen plenty of these sorts of exchanges from his countrymen, his parents included, but this was the first time he’d seen Alexius handle a situation like this. He stated what the Inquisition wanted and then asked them to offer whatever they thought would be enough for the mages. Not only did Alexius have the power here to simply deny them the mages until he got exactly what he wanted, but it’d also tell Grand Enchanter Fiona how much the Inquisition valued her people.

“Actually, I hoped you could tell me about these ‘Venatori’ I’m hearing so much about,” Aeren countered, brushing aside Alexius’ question.

Alexius stiffened in his chair momentarily before he seemed to force himself to relax. “Now, where could you have heard that name?” He mused, tapping his fingers against the arm of the throne.

Felix stepped forward. “I told him,” he claimed proudly. For a moment, Felix was once more larger than life and Dorian was calmed by his interjection.

The other man sent Felix a disapproving glare. “Felix, what have you done?” He asked reproachfully. Felix didn’t falter under his stare instead looking all the more determined.

The standoff was broken by Aeren clearing his throat. “Your son is concerned that you’re involved in something terrible,” he said.

Alexius’ lips curled back into a snarl. “So speaks the thief.” A disdainful smile settled his features. “Do you think you can turn my own son against me?”

He already is against you, Dorian thought as his mentor pushed himself up from the throne with the energy of a predator.

“You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark—a gift you don’t even understand—and think you’re in control?”

The Herald didn’t react to the Magister’s words. “And you walk into Fereldan with the iniquitous goal of practically enslaving an already ailing group of mages that had nowhere safe to turn,” Aeren argued.

“You’re nothing but a mistake,” Alexius hissed.

A scowl of his own finally graced Aeren’s face. “If I’m a mistake, what exactly was the Breach supposed to accomplish?”

“It was to be a triumphant moment for the Elder One, for the world.”

Fanaticism tinges his words but also a wariness like Alexius couldn’t pick whether to be awed or worried about what could have been.

Felix shook his head and took another step towards his father. “Father, listen to yourself!” Felix urged. “Do you know what you sound like?”

Dorian’s heart clenched at the searching look Felix gave Alexius as if he could no longer see his father when he looked at the man. It was time to step in. He took a steadying breath before stepping out from behind the Iron Bull.

“He sounds exactly like the villainous cliché everyone expects us to be,” Dorian replied.

Alexius’ head whipped around to stare at him, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. “Dorian,” Alexius acknowledged. He looked less surprised than Dorian thought he’d be. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down.”

“As if this is the right choice to make at all,” Dorian snipped. The matter-of-fact way that Alexius explained his offer like it wasn’t the ravings of a desperate father when he’d first approached Dorian about using time magic in a real application.

The man shook his head. “The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

He wasn’t sure who Alexius was trying to convince, Dorian or himself.

“That’s who you serve?” Aeren cut-in. “The one who killed the Divine? Is he a mage?”

Alexius’ steps echoed through the hall as he took another few steps closer. “Soon he will become a god.” He raised his arms, gazing at all of them with bright eyes. “He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

For a moment Dorian wondered if perhaps Alexius had officially lost it or come into some sort of mind-altering spell. His mentor hadn’t mentioned wanting Tevinter to change or for mages to rule.

“You can’t involve my people in this!” Fiona yelled.

Dorian shook his head and took a small step forward. “Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen!” Dorian reminded and gave his mentor a pleading look. Alexius turned away from him, but Dorian wasn’t deterred. “Why would you support this?”

“Stop it, Father,” Felix commanded. “Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach,” he took a steadying breath, “and let’s go home.”

Alexius turns back around at that denial on his tongue before he can recenter himself. “No! It’s the only way, Felix.” He grabbed hold of one of Felix’s hands with two of his own. “He can save you.”

Felix gave him an incredulous look and took his hand back from his father’s grasp. “Save me?”

Alexius turned away again from prying eyes to stare into the fire. “There is a way.” He sounded relieved in a way that Dorian had only heard the cusp of when Alexius had first mentioned time magic. “The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple…”

“I’m going to die,” Felix stated, his face a resigned acceptance. “You need to accept that.”

The blunt response has a nail piercing Dorian’s heart because of course, he knows that Felix is dying but sometimes he just wants to push that reality away.

His son’s words fell on deaf ears as Alexius raised a hand towards their group. “Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands this man’s life.”

But then choking gasps and the wet sound of blades piercing flesh echo throughout the hall and Dorian knows that the Inquisition’s soldiers have arrived. They’re safe now. It’s over.

Aeren stepped up to stand beside Dorian, that cocky smile more serious than it usually is but no less smug. “Your men are dead, Alexius,” Aeren informed him.

An angry flush brightens Alexius’ face. “You…” the animosity in the hissed word is more obvious than Dorian has ever heard, “are a mistake! You never should have existed.”

A dark green static began to emanate from Alexius’ hand and an amulet rose from his palm to hang within the center of the aura of magic. The crackling of magic flickers ominously as they stare at what’s unfolding.

It took Dorian only a moment to realize what exactly was going on: time magic. He doesn’t even think when he casts a spell to knock the amulet from Alexius’ hand, trying to stop the man from casting. “No!” Dorian yelled.

As he predicted, the spell fizzled out when Alexius dropped the amulet. What he didn't expect was a swirling rift to open up in front of him and Aeren. He turned panicked eyes to Felix, who looked just as panicked.

He heard a cry of his name before darkness overtook him as he and Aeren were sucked into the rift.

#dragon age fic #dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquisition fic #fanfic #my fic #dorian pavus #BAMF!Dorian #solas #the iron bull #varric #krem #cremisius aclassi #male lavellan #in hushed whispers #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #da:i #da:i fic #dragon age kink meme

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slashhinginghasher · 4 years

Text

Icy - Jesse Cromeans x OFC

Marena accompanies Jesse on a business trip to New York. Jesse bitches about the weather and smut ensues.

Note: Marena is my OC. This is not a reader insert fic

She was fucking with him.

She had to be fucking with him, because the thermometer on the wall read 20°F and she was hanging out on the balcony, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there were icicles hanging from the eaves. Jesse had the heat in the luxury hotel room cranked up to 75°, was wearing a cashmere sweater and two pairs of socks, and Marena was outside in short sleeves casually sipping a drink like she was on a tropical beach. Actually, Jesse had never seen her look as content on a tropical beach as she did standing there in the frigid winter evening.

As much as Jesse loved New York - or at least the idea of New York - the winters there were goddamn unpleasant. He was a southern boy through and through; any temperature below 50° was unnatural. Next time, his clients could come to him, and to hell with “convenience” or “professional courtesy”. It was difficult to maintain a proper air of menace when one was shivering and wrapped in approximately ten different layers. Simply put, the cold pissed him off, and watching Marena lounge in it like a cat in a sunbeam pissed him off more. For the sake of his ego, he had to believe she was actually freezing her tiny tits off and just pretending to enjoy herself to piss him off.

Speaking of the blue-eyed devil...

Marena threw open the balcony door, letting a gust of freezing air into Jesse’s barely-tolerable haven. She paused in the doorway, blinked hard and coughed once as the warmth swept over her, then tossed the door shut carelessly behind her as she made her way to the kitchen. The door stopped just short of fully closed, winter chill creeping in through the one-inch gap. Jesse was irritated, he really was, but Marena rarely showed much skin, even in the middle of a Floridian summer, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to appreciate what he was presented with.

The sleeve of her shirt slipped off one shoulder as she refilled her glass, the upper edges of the scars on her back and torso peeking out from the low neckline. Her shorts hugged her tight little ass in a way that made Jesse’s hands jealous. As he watched her swallow a mouthful of dark red liquid, Jesse felt his own mouth going dry.

“What.”

Marena was watching him watch her, the flat tone of her voice bringing the word closer to a statement then a question. Jesse lifted his eyes from his perusal of her bare legs, letting all the heat and aggravation show plainly on his face.

“Not that I’m not enjoying the view, but are you fucking kidding me?” he signed.

Marena tilted her head and furrowed her brow slightly.

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

She glanced down at her outfit.

“Clothes. Probably.”

“It’s subarctic out there, who the hell do you think you’re trying to impress?”

“Subarctic, my ass,” Marena scoffed quietly, returning to the lounge area and planting said ass on the coffee table in front of Jesse. This close, he could smell the fruitiness of her drink and the crisp, cold air that clung to her hair and skin.

"There is frost on the windows," Jesse pointed out. "The railing is fucking iced over. Arctic."

“I grew up subarctic,” Marena retorted. “This is not arctic.” She took another healthy swig of her drink. Cherry juice, Jesse thought, based on the color.

“Details, details. Point is, it’s freezing, and you’re dressed like a PIGGY.”

Marena’s gaze snapped sharply to Jesse’s, the slight clenching of her jaw the only sign of a shift in her mood. Jesse and Marena often argued over the parameters that designated a person as “deserving to die”, each having very different ideas on the subject. They’d had a fairly heated debate about it over the body of a socialite just before leaving for New York. Like most of their “discussions” on the topic, it had ended with blood shed on both sides, Jesse inside her, and absolutely nothing resolved.

Secretly, Jesse adored their fights. So few people ever stood up to him (Preston didn’t count - he was annoying in a bad way and nowhere near as sexy) and the fact that Marena was half his size and could still hold her own made things even more entertaining. He was uncertain if Marena enjoyed butting heads half as much as he did. Granted, it was usually impossible to tell if Marena enjoyed anything; her default mode was “seconds away from violence” and her poker face rivaled Asa’s.

“All I’m saying,” Jesse continued with a smirk, “is this is HIGHLY out of character. One might think you were trying to SEDUCE me.” He traced a finger down from the hollow of her throat, barely clearing her collarbone before she swatted his hand away. He moved to touch her again, but was interrupted by a gust of freezing wind blowing a small flurry of snow through the gap in the door. Jesse shot to his feet with a glare that had, in other circumstances, reduced grown men to tears. He slammed the door shut hard enough to make the glass shudder, then threw himself back down on the sofa with a huff. Marena studied the bottom of her now-empty glass, unimpressed with Jesse’s flare of temper.

“Are all Americans such pussies about weather, or is it just you?”

Jesse snarled. Both hands shot out, grabbing the girl by the shirt and yanking her into his lap. He crushed his lips to hers, sweeping his tongue into her mouth before she could even think of biting him. She tasted like cherries, and the fact that she was kissing him back so readily made him think there may have been more than fruit juice in her drink. Marena didn’t fuck sober, at least not without a fight.

Breaking the kiss, he threw her down on the sofa cushions, pushed her shirt up over her breasts, and immediately got to work biting and licking a trail down the scar over her heart. Marena’s hands were moving somewhere around his belt, but he was so consumed in the taste of her skin that he paid them no mind.

At least until she wrapped her ice cold fingers around his cock.

Jesse jerked back like he’d been electrocuted, and Marena laughed.

Her laugh was as sharp as the rest of her, and so rarely given that Jesse could probably count the number of times he’d heard it on one hand. Now, like each of the other times, the sound awakened a fluttering storm in his stomach. And it wasn’t just arousal, either; they were full-on teenage-girl-writing-in-her-diary butterflies. Marena had a knack for getting under his skin like no one else he’d met, both figuratively and literally. He still had the scars from their first meeting to prove it. And judging by the subtle gleam in her eyes, she knew damn well what kind of effect she had on him.

He was glaring at her now, and she was still laughing, her nose scrunched up and her hair spread around her like a black halo, and the only way he could think to shut her up was to kiss her again and shove his hand down her shorts.

She stiffened and bit down on his lip when he pressed a finger to her clit. He drew a slow, rough circle around the little nub, then dipped lower and traced her entrance with a calloused fingertip. Marena drew in a short, shuddering breath and shifted her hips almost imperceptibly closer to his hand. That was all the invitation he needed to keep going. He rubbed a little harder, moved a little faster, adding a second finger to his ministrations when he felt her slickness growing. He pressed his mouth to hers until their teeth clicked together, swallowing her silent gasp as he slid his fingers into her heat.

He pumped his hand shallowly a few times before pulling out completely, curling his fingers as he withdrew. Marena fixed him with a look bordering on open hatred as he slid those two fingers into his mouth and slooooowly sucked them clean. It was as close to begging as he could get her without a lot of work - work he had no patience for at this particular moment - and he’d take what he could get.

Jesse ripped her shorts off and tossed them behind him, then pushed his own slacks just far enough down his hips for his hardened cock to spring free. He lined himself up with her entrance, and, too eager to tease, thrust his entire length inside with a single fluid movement. Marena’s back arched, head thrown back and fingers digging into the armrest hard enough for her nails to leave marks in the fabric. Jesse held still for a moment, savoring the feeling of her tight heat around him, before grabbing her hips and beginning to thrust in earnest.

The room was nearly silent except for the sounds of skin against skin and harsh, shuddering breathing. It was fast and rough, fucking stripped down to its bare essentials. Marena’s gaze was fixed somewhere on the ceiling behind Jesse’s head, and she clapped a hand over her mouth as her inner walls tightened, teeth sinking into the meat of her palm until it bled. Pace faltering, Jesse pulled Marena’s hand away from her mouth and raised it to his own lips, latching onto the wound and sucking hard. The familiar coppery taste burst across his tongue, triggering his own orgasm as he fucked her through her climax.

Jesse slumped forward in a boneless haze, pressing a trail of kisses up Marena’s throat and over her jaw, leaving a final nip just below her ear. Marena ran a shaking hand through her hair and tried to wiggle her way out from under him. Not happening. Jesse tucked himself away with one hand, the other holding Marena’s wrist to keep her from escaping. He sprawled across the couch and pulled her to him, her back against his chest, wrapping his arm around her waist. Marena made an annoyed little growl deep in her throat, but offered no other resistance to his post-sex cuddliness.

Jesse smiled against her hair. For the first time since arriving in New York, he felt warm.

#gets home from work and immediately spends 8 hours banging out this bad boy #first time writing spicy content please be nice #i just had a thought that if jesse could talk he'd probably have a southern accent and hoooooooooo BOI #jesse has it baaaaaaaddddd lmao #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #laid to rest #marena polunochnaya #my writing #my character

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