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scenariosofkonoha · 2 years

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For the Country| Tobirama- Arranged Marriage AU

Part 13/15

Part 1 | ... | Part 14|

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Political moves. Tobirama's lowkey a simp for this girlie, but won't outright admit it. War's coming in. We love a power couple.

“I’m shocked,” an emissary hummed, his gaze locked across the room, bypassing the various feudal lords and other diplomats. As he leaned against the counter, cup in hand, there was a small smirk across his demeanor, something that happened to be a trend when outsiders got to witness the two leaders of Konoha. “Utterly shocked that not only were you able to convince her to marry someone like you, but that she’s stayed, and actually looks happy,” he teased as he watched the woman charm guests and secretly secure allies for a war that was soon to come.

Tobirama gave a quick glance to his wife, and couldn’t help but agree with the latter portion of the previous statement. In comparison to all the stiff and dusty politicians, she radiated an aura that no one else in that room, himself included, could even aim for. The sun kissed skin, the welcoming stature, the voice that made you feel like the sun would always rise and it would be a better day; everything she was now was in spite of the mold that the past had placed many like her in.

Historically, someone like her would have not been expected in gatherings like this. Those who held the future in their hands previously had been hardened by the past and it was evident in their being, but the future was different now. And whenever Tobirama thought of the future, it was always her.

“You’d think that she had been handling politics since the day she was born with the way she makes all these diplomats fold.” the emissary continued, shifting his gaze to her counterpart.

“‘I’m certain she was.” Tobirama offered before bringing up his own cup.

Letting his head fall back, he looked up as if he were remembering. “Right, right. I suppose you don’t learn how to deal with politics like that overnight,” he muttered. “Must have been all those years of being Madara’s protege then?” he instigated.

Though Tobirama had reached a point in his life where snark comments, particularly relating to the previous leader of his wife’s clan, were ones that he did not answer to anymore. At least not when they came from someone like the one currently keeping him company.

Quickly noting that the lack of response could easily get him removed from the next gathering, the emissary chose to pivot. “Rumor has it her brother is on your team? Rather capable shinobi at it too?”

“Correct.”

Letting out a smug laugh, the emissary continued his banter. “How is it that you ended up married to the current leader and trained the future leader of the very clan that you wanted dead all those years ago?”

Tobirama paused. It was a question that he had asked himself time and time again, and the answer was always the same. “Thank her. None of this would have happened without her.”

Raising an eyebrow, the emissary looked uncertain, “I think you’re giving her too much credit.”

Sharpening his gaze, Tobirama frowned. “Wholly not enough.” he reaffirmed, before giving an order. “You may go now. I’m sure there are other’s you need to badger.”

Sheepishly standing up, the emissary nodded a farewell and in process, ended up passing the very woman he had just chosen not to give credit, a quick look of embarrassment drawn across his face.

Meeting her husband, the Uchiha quickly gave a onceover to the man she just passed before looking back to Tobirama with a small expression of confusion. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing but the truth.”

Letting out a small laugh, she shook her head. “If you insist.”

“I do,” he nodded as he gave his attention fully to her. “Your thoughts on all of this?” he asked.

“The entire country is in support and secured at the current moment. We can band with the feudal lords and their armies when the time comes as well as the other mercenaries. They are already prepared for when the war bleeds into our territory, but for now I suppose it’s best to hold off involvement until necessary. From the looks of it, it’s nearly as bad as the previous wars.” she offered, a small frown appearing towards the latter portion of the statement.

Tobirama nodded. A few more months of peace; that’s all they had left. The other nations had been fighting for at least half a year at this point, but until recently it hadn’t even remotely reached their country. Contingency plans were created and ready for when the country was eventually hit, but until then, they’d remain impartial, savoring the last moments of peace.

It was almost surreal to Tobirama. The last time he had been at war was before Konoha was even formed. He was barely out of his teenage years back then, and sure as hell wasn’t anywhere to the standard he was today. Now, there was barely anything that remained the same. The circumstances surrounding him were so different. The people surrounding him during it were different as well. Before, if he died, then he died; just another kid lost to the fighting. Now, if he died, he’d be leaving everything to strief. There was more tying him to life now, making the reality of death and its consequences more severe.

Gingerly grabbing his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts, the Uchiha gave a comforting look. “Don’t overthink it right now.” she insisted. “We are secure. The country’s safe.”

“And in a year?”

“We’ll salvage the wreckage.” she stated, her voice almost all knowing of the devastation that would ensue. “Our people will be protected and will heal. We’ve done it before. We’ll do it again.”

They had done it before. They did it alone back then, but now they were together and stronger, and maybe that would be their saving grace when the bloodshed finally came knocking on their doorstep.

Pushing away the impending compulsive thoughts of war, Tobirama gave his full attention to the woman in front of him. Giving her a small smirk, he raised an eyebrow, “You’ll have to detail how you got the southern feudal lord to stop talking long enough for you to secure him as an ally.”

Letting out a laugh, she gladly took the segway to lighter topics. “You just have to make sure that they know you’re the one with the more interesting information. Talk just enough to get them hooked and then they're yours. It’s not that hard. Just keep me around, and you’ll have the whole nation and maybe then some.” she offered, a witty smile making a quick appearance.

Helpless against copying her smile, Tobirama offered up a quick comment. “This is one of your traits that we don’t talk about enough,” he said. “At what point do you lose this ability to talk your way into people trusting you?”

She gave a small shrug, “I don’t know. I got you to love me, and I think that’s the biggest feat I’ve ever accomplished in that aspect.”

And she was completely right. She had managed to cause him to fall in love with her, not that he would outright admit to such things, but it was the silent truth. Raising an eyebrow, he nodded. “You truly are one of the most exceptional people here,” he offered. “I suppose I should know that though, because you did snap at me the second time we met, saying that the Elder’s had a choice with you, but not with me. You made that very well known.” he said, nearing a joke.

Laughing, she gave another one of her all knowing looks, though this one held more joy than the other previously had.

“At least, I have the privilege of saying that one of the most exceptional people here is my wife. None of these people could even compare.”

“Be careful, pride is very fitting on you.” she smirked.

Placing a hand on her back, Tobirama motioned to the exit. “Let’s go. If war is truly at our heels, I’d rather spend my last moments of peace solely with you…”

#i think this story will be finished soon #aka i have the last two chapters mapped out and half way written #but does anyone read this anymore #idk #I actually am shocked im the author.#lol #tobirama #senju #tobirama senju

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generallypo · 4 years

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[ Constellation ’Director of the False Last Act’ is looking at you. ]

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dark academia!hsy, yeeee! the white coat is fantastic, but unlike kdj and yjh, she doesn’t really switch up the color scheme. no, her bum-aesthetic purple hoodie does not count. i think she’s super hot. i yell about how much i love her under the cut.

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yo han sooyoung is actually amazing, incredible, powerful, witty, drop-dead sexy... what makes her so irresistible? let me explain

1) yeah, kdj takes the kdj company to end of the scenarios, but please. how many times does he have to kill himself to get there? not to mention his intentional (and unintentional) kill count?

sure, he does the job, but damn is he kind of inefficient about it. say what you like about hsy’s methods or personality, but the 1863rd round far surpasses the 1864th in terms of the lives preserved while still managing to take the team to the end.

without the benefit of cheat-like knowledge, skills, and resurrections, hsy almost single-handedly orchestrates the events of the 1863rd round to a satisfying finale. kmw, problematic as he is, survives and becomes an admittedly better person, yjh finds a timeline where he can rest in peace, and the rest of the cast have their eyes set on the hopeful end of all scenarios. all this, while only being HALF of a person (hsy originally split off into two after misusing her avatar ability). do her actions lead to the happiest ending? no. but it’s the one that sacrifices the least and saves the most. for the greater good, in other words.

hsy may be an intrinsically selfish person, but unlike kdj, she has the ability to grasp the entire picture and avoid tunnel-visioning into a crappier, more convoluted and self-sacrificial solution. ironically, it ends up saving more lives. perks of being a talented writer, i guess.

and the 1864th hsy emerges as a leader in her own right as well. the epilogue arc shows her assuming roughly the same role as her 1863rd self in kdj’s absence: yjh breaks off from the main group (AND BECOMES A TERRORIST AKFDJDSLKSL HAHAHA) to assume a similarly antagonistic role to the remaining members of kdj company. as a result, she’s the most powerful lawful incarnation remaining, and once more the incarnations circle around her for direction.

2) independent, confident, competent (hot and kinda shameless about it). this woman has the most delightfully unrepentant attitude towards life -- how to defeat the man with the strongest defensive ability without dealing a single blow? summon a horde of your naked dancing clones to terrify his innocent sensibilities, and then cackle at his helplessness. the fact that her sponsor is literally the chuuni-est cringefest in the entire galaxy and she gives no fucks about him is just additional comedic gold. her undisguised disgust for what should otherwise be a highly respected/feared entity is a clear indicator of her supremely dominant position over everyone else, and i admire her consistent irreverence of everyone and everything.

hsy is the only character who can consistently bully kdj, brush off his deflections, and bully him again. 1863rd round hsy gives kdj about 50 migraines in the span of 5 minutes of conversation before confirming her superior wit. jhw comes close, but unfortunately, she actually respects the rat bastard. i wish i could mention yjh, but let’s be real: he -- and just about every existing version of him -- has been whipped for the guy for at least 250+ chapters now.

hsy, on the other hand, has no regard for anything except herself... man, i respect that so much. what a queen.

and i won’t lie! i didn’t like her in the first fifty or so chapters. plagiarism? homicide? kind-of-in-general-just-being-an-obstacle-to-kdj’s-plans? yeah, i almost fell into the trap of disliking her purely because she didn’t cave immediately in the grand scheme of kdj’s plotting -- thereby denying me the power rush that came with seeing kdj bulldoze his way through the puny attempts of small fry characters. she’s neither a friend nor a despicable foe, but rather someone who acts independently and in her own self-interest, WITH the ability to thwart major players if need be. aka, the one who frustrated kdj’s plans -- and me -- the most.

going by my previous isekai/power-fantasy trope experience, i figured she’d get pegged into the sexy-but-sassy harem candidate, or get killed off if that didn’t work out. in hindsight, i’m just pretty fucking dumb, but honestly, i can accept that with gratitude --

-- because in fact. the whole ‘she-gets-in-my-way-so-she-either-goes-into-the-harem-or-dies’ trope in light novels/webnovels and the like, is, frankly, misogynistic and boring as hell. i had some admittedly low expectations for ORV, which consequently blasted my ass to the moon and left me there sobbing for 42 years as i mourned my stupidity and paid my respects to its incredible ending and character development. hsy is a particular delight, especially in her meta awareness of these tropes -- blatantly stating she isn’t obligated to kdj for saving her life and declaring the damsel-in-distress cliche as ridiculous, for example.

and it really is, because suspension bridge effect aside, you’re not gonna want to bang a total shady stranger in the middle of the apocalypse. it’s the little statements of self-awareness, self-worth, and frankness that build up hsy’s charm. as ORV progresses, these little windows of her personality bloom as her presence takes stage center -- and then BAM! you really get to know how strong she is, how hugely capable of love she is, how subtly but wonderfully she expresses it, how she leads and protects those close to her, and how damn good she is at it. hsy is amazing. we stan an iconic queen -- no, black flameS EMPRESS. *kneeling*.

3) writes an entire EPIC, just to keep one lonely, broken fifteen-year-old alive. like. at that point in ORV, i knew. i knew. hsy is the fucking GOAT. seeing her spend the rest of her life on WOS, making sure it reaches completion because it’s the only thing that will sustain kdj until the advent of the scenarios... that hits too hard. inadvertently, it also damns the rest of the world to the terror and tragedy that the star stream brings.. but that’s the call she makes in order to save kdj’s life.

obviously, there’s no precise beginning to the timelines -- ORV is so neatly crafted in its cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader -- but i’d have to argue that hsy holds the greatest power in the trinity. creating the existence known as ‘yoo joonghyuk’ and granting life-changing hope to an otherwise forgotten boy.. is pretty powerful. yjh, for the most part, is a slave to the scenarios (until he breaks free in the 1863rd and 1864th rounds, in particular), while kdj (unwittingly) admits it himself: he’s truly the most powerless god in existence. i forget exactly where he mentions it, but it’s in response to lgy’s reverent commentary that, with all his knowledge and presumed confidence, kdj seems like the protagonist of story or a god to him. kdj’s inner monologue, of course, is appropriately self-deprecating and scarily accurate.

in a lot of ways, WOS -- and ORV itself, really -- is a love letter to readers. it’s a two-way connection, writer and reader, between someone who creates with all their passions and someone who consumes and responds with equally sincere feelings. Ways Of Survival -- the story of a man who defied death and grief and great powers far beyond his being -- is a fictional guide to surviving in a ruined world. but to a battered, bullied, and ostracized boy, it’s not just escapism, or wish fulfilment anymore. WOS is the map to navigating the hell of his reality. there’s a certain power in the right words being spoken -- or in this case, written -- at the right time, even if it’s only for the temporary burst of endorphins upon reading an especially delightful chapter. even if it’s forgotten the next day, you’ve managed to connect. you’ve touched another person’s heart. you made them think about questions they’ve never considered before; maybe, you made them smile.

what can i say but the honest truth? ORV, without a shadow of doubt, has most certainly reached me. i’m a goner for this story and its excellent characters -- long, long gone. something has changed, something that wasn’t there the previous day.

the mark has been made on the reader -- small as it is, it’s irrevocable. behold, in all of its little magnificence: the power of a writer, and their story.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #orv #han sooyoung #dark acadamia aesthetic #fanart #long ass emotional screeching #wow these are the nights i wish i had someone to yell about orv with #otherwise i stay up at ass-o-clock uncontrollably writing and groaning and writing #anyways hsy is best girl and sexy as fuck

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alarriefantasy · 4 years

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Hi, all! So it seems that the wonderful AO3 user - objectlesson - aka on tumblr as - horsegirlharry - has sadly deleted their fics. I have only a few saved in my files, but there are some I would really love to possess, if anyone has them? I would really appreciate it if you would message me and let me know! :)

Also, I am posting the whole list of amazing stories they shared for our fandom, and I am marking (with an asterisk*) the ones that I have myself, in case anyone else would like them too! <3

Silver White Winters

by objectlesson

In which Louis catches a cloud and pins it down.

Words: 5106, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

I Must Confess (I Still Believe)

by objectlesson

Louis shrugs, eyes on the road. “You look cute in the blazer, too,” she says nonchalantly, and what the fucking fuck, what is Harry supposed to think?

“You probably do, too, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t even think you own one? Do you ever actually wear the entire uniform?” she asks, deflecting.

“Not since freshman year!” Louis boasts proudly. “They stopped giving me demerits because it’s, like, a lost cause. I literally haven’t seen my blazer in three years, I just borrow Veronica’s when I walk into Mass.” Her grin is very cheeky and bright, and she’s squinting in the sun, aviators pushed up into the overgrown auburn shag of her hair. The horizon is hazy and pink-orange as dark sneaks up on them, the air smelling of sprinkler water and BBQ smoke from people leaching the last warmth of October before summer’s gone for good. Harry feels alive with possibility, eyes watering as she smiles at Louis, unable to stop. She wrinkles her nose like it’ll somehow hide the way it looks on her face to be in love.

Or, Harry is the new girl at an all girl Catholic Girl’s School, and Louis is the unattainable, dashing senior who changes her forever.

Words: 44304, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Powerless (and I Don’t Care It’s Obvious)

by objectlesson

“Oh no, Lou, don’t make me laugh,” he whimpers. His Ribena-purple mouth twists into a glorious, breakable shape, and Louis’s heart stops. He should not be getting turned on by Harry’s full-bladder discomfort, his little twitches, his hips-stuttering. And yet.

Words: 4090, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

The Pink Ghost of Princess Park

by objectlesson

The thought of the vibrator does not go away. It’s sitting there collecting dust all through January, and every time Harry and Louis have to leave town for a press event or a show or to record or what have you, they come back home, and it’s still there, the Pink Ghost of Princess Park, the fucking glittery haunting that Harry cannot stop thinking of Louis stuffing up his arse.

Words: 7556, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Life Saver

by objectlesson

Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or, Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

Words: 14809, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Even Your Honey Dew

by objectlesson

It probably says something about Harry that he’s so obsessed with another omega’s arse.

Words: 9512, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

What a Heavenly Way To Die

by objectlesson

She’s thought about it a lot, and two big things seem to be holding her back, aside from the uncontrollable paralysis that overtakes her body every time she so much as tries to sneak a hand under the waistband of Harry’s knickers.

Or, Louis is afraid to do stuff to Harry, who has done a lot of stuff to her.

Words: 8052, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Firm Believer and a Warm Receiver

by objectlesson

a few months ago, Louis had his first heat. It was no big deal, aside from it being awkward and weird and all the other things it was supposed to be. He figured he would present as an omega, so he wasn’t exactly surprised or anything.

But then, last week, Harry had his first heat, too.

Or, the omega/omega sleepover fic no one asked for but y'all really, really need.

Words: 10895, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You’ll Know What Makes The World Turn

by objectlesson

Sometimes, when things are messy and they have more than a few weeks apart, they need the reminder. It’s comforting to have stars to map your course by.

or, Harry’s blue bandana is a day collar.

Words: 4624, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Sing You Butterflies

by objectlesson

Louis stares for a moment before some primal sympathetic force in him activates. He has to help this boy. He can hardly walk, and he seems so young (yet ageless, beyond age, like a sea turtle or a parrot or a tree or something else odd and magical), and on top of all that, he has body glitter clinging to his skin, like that roll-on stuff his sisters used to use as preteens, only pink-gold and twice as thick. It’s, like, professional grade. He’s also wearing grass- and dirt-stained pink silk women’s underwear, so maybe he’s from London. Maybe he’s a drag queen who crawled all the way from a nightclub in Soho just to save Louis from his horribly mundane and woefully heterosexual neighbours out here in the middle of nowhere.

or, Harry’s a clumsy unicorn who accidentally stomps on a witch’s garden and is turned into a human as punishment, so he wanders into a nearby village covered in glitter, still figuring out how to walk on two feet, and meets the fairy-tale-fine Louis, who has to teach him how to live as a human and stop him from eating soap.

Words: 22701, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Holy

by objectlesson

She deserves not to be so goddamned put together all the time. Being in the world’s biggest and highest exposure girlband means she’s never seen without a flat stomach, a spray tan, contouring, eyelash extensions, the whole of her body inescapably toned and plucked and waxed so frequently she genuinely forgot what fucking color her own pubes are. Louis wants to eat burgers and smoke weed and be twenty three. She wants to wake up with Harry and spend the whole day in bed fingering each other because they finally don’t have to have goddamn acrylic nails for once. She wants to grow her pubes out. She wants to lounge around in a posh, red-velvet High Hefner robe.

Or, Louis is dressed like a fucking queen, Harry’s begging please.

Words: 6608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only One I Dream Of: A Drabble Collection

by objectlesson

A collection of all the m/m One Direction drabbles and timestamps I’ve written on tumblr, so my readers on here aren’t missing out!

Words: 5164, Chapters: 5/13, Language: English

Diamonds in the Moonlight

by objectlesson

The 70s au where Harry is a rich girl stuck in the suburbs who thinks she loves Shaun Cassidy, and Louis is the skater who breaks into her backyard and changes everything forever.

Words: 16136, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

In the Heat of the Night

by objectlesson

“You’re sleeping with me, obviously,” Harry says then, pausing to regard Louis with a funny expression, nose wrinkled and brows drawn tight. “Don’t tell me you thought that I’d let you freeze out here!? Absolutely not! C’mon, the bedroom’s cozy, I dragged a space heater out.”

Louis wants to protest about as badly as she wants to sleep next to Harry Styles, which is a lot. Too much.

Or, Louis is the only butch in London with a truck and Harry needs to move a couch.

Words: 7726, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Once Upon a Dream

by objectlesson

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

Words: 16643, Chapters: ½, Language: English

From Now Until Forever

by objectlesson

The girls go to Britney Nite and Louis wears Juicy track pants and Harry is not ok.

Niall takes the pint glass back from Harry and takes a swig, regarding her over the rim knowingly. “You’re nervous,” she observes with a grin. “Because you’re gonna get drunk at a gay bar with Louis, and you haven’t told her yet that you wanna marry her.”

“Oh, my god, stop,” Harry scolds, hiding her face in her hands, everything suddenly hot and shivery. “It’s not that,” she adds, even though it most definitely is.

“Then…you’re excited to see Louis in a schoolgirl skirt and bra? Covered in that body glitter that smells like cotton candy?” Niall presses, waggling her eyebrows, making Harry blush at the mere thought of Louis’s golden skin shimmering and sticky under club lights.

Words: 9223, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Hello, Heaven (you are tunnel-lined with yellow lights

by objectlesson

“Oh, yeah?” Harry asks, playing dumb as he helps Louis out of his coat before hanging it up. “A new phone charger? Mine’s still broken, the electrical tape didn’t work.”

Louis makes a face at him, all arched brows and tongue pressed into cheek. “Oh a phone charger? Is that what you need?” he quips lightly, voice high and lilting in this sing-song way that’s so, so high and gentle that it’s scary. He’s putting on a show for Harry, and Harry’s thrilled with it, already shivery and hot-cheeked because Louis got him something naughty, and they’re talking about it without really talking about it, wrapping it up in layers of mundanity and domesticity, still so excited to play the role of two Adults living in their new Adult flat in London that they bought with their own money from the X Factor. Harry’s living an unimaginably glamourous life so suddenly, and Louis and his gifts are right in the middle of it, the heart of his every dream.

Or, Louis buys Harry things sometimes.

Words: 2988, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Dream About That Casual Touch

by objectlesson

And that was the first thing Louis noticed about her. Not her nipples, or not only her nipples, anyway, but the fact that she was so confident with her body and didn’t seem to care that her tits were sort of soft and floppy and uneven or that she had a little roll of pudge around her hips that poked over the top of her jeans when she wore crop tops. She wore what she wanted to wear whether or not it was in fashion or technically even flattering; her hair was always messy, she only wore makeup half the time, and she seemed to like heeled boots even if she was already fairly tall and they made her tower over the boys. Louis always thought it was so fucking sexy how unconcerned Harry seemed with what people thought of her, how comfortable she was in her own skin. That by itself seemed like a sort-of gay thing, so Louis kept a remote, careful eye on her, hoping to one day see something else that blipped her radar.

Or, Louis and Harry fuck up two dates before they finally get it right.

Words: 7678, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Smoke Dreams from Smoke Rings

by objectlesson

“When I get a craving?” Louis says, “You have to help me chase it away. Distract me”

Oh. Harry can think of about one hundred different ways to distract Louis Tomlinson. One hundred better uses for his mouth, for example. “Erm,” he squeaks, well aware of the fact that he’s grinning and dimpling and blushing all at once, his whole face a suddenly mortifying warzone of transparent emotion. “How?”

“By hitting my arm as hard as you can,” Louis announces, holding out the arm in question. It bridges the gap between them, stiff and expectant, and Harry stares, not entirely sure if Louis’s being serious, if this is some prank that he isn’t clever enough to understand, or if the promise of touching Louis under any circumstances is so titillating that he just can’t process it. Louis rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie then, revealing his pale inner arm in maddening increments, pushing Harry somewhere between drooling and vomiting, he isn’t sure which. He just knows that his mouth is flooded, and the barely-there ghost of Louis’s veins through his skin is the prettiest thing that he’s ever seen. “Go on, hit me,” Louis orders. “Don’t be shy,”

or, Louis enlists Harry to help him with his bad habit.

Words: 18116, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Black Stars and Endless Seas

by objectlesson

Or, A Star Trek Original Series AU where Lt. Styles is a young science officer on his first away mission, and Louis is the headstrong ensign assigned to his security detail, and maybe they would be able to function together professionally in a normal setting, but not when their shuttlecraft crash-lands and they end up marooned together on an improbably and unfairly beautiful planet.

Words: 32246, Chapters: 3/3, Language: English

Rose Garden Dreams

by objectlesson

Harry thinks it’s a fever-induced delirium, at first. After all, she’s been sick in bed for a full forty-eight hours following the Best and Most Important beach trip of her entire life because fate is a cruel and jealous bitch who doesn’t want Harry to go on a date with the girl of her dreams.

or, Harry is sick and Louis comes to visit her.

Words: 9464, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Palms Reflecting in Your Eyes

by objectlesson

Harry visits Louis at his campus and finds a crop on the wall.

Words: 6496, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Wrap You Up in Daisy Chains

by objectlesson

Ten minutes later, an awkward, long-legged, curly-haired, so pale she’s reflective, and so obviously gay-looking Harry Styles is sitting shotgun next to Louis in a bikini, denim cut-offs, and heart-framed sunnies.

Or, Harry and Louis and a too-small bathing suit.

Words: 10613, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

To Keep the Night From Ending

by objectlesson

It doesn’t always feel real to kiss in the dark, Harry guesses. He wants it to feel real. He wants it to be the realest thing, burnt indelibly into his skin.

Or, Harry and Louis take a night swim.

Words: 5036, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Good Enough to Eat

by objectlesson

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles, shuffling. “You won’t give me shit for it? It’s sorta weird.”

“No,” Louis breathes. “Promise.”

“Okay. I just…fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Harry whimpers, and he must be blushing because Louis can feel waves of heat coming off him, his embarrassment a hot, palpable thing. “So, like…I love rimming videos. Nothing makes me come harder,” he admits, covering his face with his hands so his voice comes out muffled and strangled.

It takes Louis a few seconds to process, to mentally rifle through his Pornhub search history and remember what rimming even is; Harry has him so stupid he can’t keep stuff straight. His ears ring, and then it hits him, and, oh, fuck. His stomach turns and tightens so quickly he’s gasping, an audible and shameful scrape of air in the dark. “You…really?” he chokes out.

Or, Harry is convinced he’s never gonna be able to try his favorite porn fantasy on a real boy, and Louis offers to remedy this.

Words: 6722, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Grenadine Sunshine

by objectlesson

Harry’s only sixteen, it shows right now, and Louis wants…he wants so many things. He wants to taste the faint, sugary ghost of lip gloss, he wants to cup Harry’s face between his palms and swipe the shimmery wet shadows from beneath his eyes. He wants to show him everything he knows, even though he doesn’t know anything about this, about kissing boys or flirting with them or doing their makeup or even showing them it’s okay to want to wear makeup in the first place. Still, Louis just wants, wants and wants and wants. It’s what Harry does to him.

Words: 18067, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only Angel

by objectlesson

Louis pops his hip out, looking down at Harry from beneath the cut of his fringe sassily. “How do I look?”

Harry��Harry doesn’t have words, not really. He sits there on the floor with a half-hard cock, gazing up at this taller, scarier version of Louis with wide eyes. “Like I want you to spin-kick me in the face,” he admits after a moment, shakily inhaling. “You look…really good.”

Or, Louis finds a pair of heels that fit, and Harry wants to be ruined, as per usual.

Words: 6599, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Someone Who Knows How To Ride

by objectlesson

Harry gives Louis a lap dance. Or, at least, he tries to.

Words: 5114, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Copper Kiss

by objectlesson

Harry’s not allowed to fly back to the UK without marks to remember Louis by.

Words: 4604, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You Drive Me Crazy ( I Just Can’t Sleep)

by objectlesson

The first time Louis ends up in Harry’s bed is a total accident.

Words: 18520, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Christmas Without You

by objectlesson

It’s Christmas Eve and Harry misses Louis so badly he might be going little crazy.

Words: 5639, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Vinyl and Lace

by objectlesson

Harry tries on a skirt in the X Factor dressing room as a joke. Louis doesn’t think it’s very funny.

Words: 7541, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Touch of My Hand

by objectlesson

Words: 3104, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Tour Bus Sex, Bus Sex, PWP, Up All Night Tour, Uan era, Canon Compliant, baby boyfriends in love, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Established Relationship

Born to Make You Happy

by objectlesson

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

Words: 25662, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Taste of a Poison Paradise

by objectlesson

Louis notices Harry’s mouth right away.

Words: 9894, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Little Love (is better than none)

by objectlesson

It’s supposed to be no strings attached sex, but Harry’s in love with beauty and tragedy and Louis Tomlinson so there might actually a few strings they’re not talking about.

Or, alternately, the four times they fuck and don’t kiss, and one time they fuck and do (with a few more times thrown in because I’m a mess and know how to write short fics).

Words: 15074, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Take Me Under the Blue

by objectlesson

Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction.

He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.

It’s sort of a long story.

Words: 19011, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

#deleted fics #objectlesson #horsegirlharry #larry fics #larry stylinson #larry fic rec

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

Text

chapter 3 of to see you home is here! [kristanna / m / aka selkie au]

chapter 1 / 2

In the city, she would have taken the measurements, written them down, sent them off with a maid, and the paper-wrapped package would have been waiting on her doorstep by nightfall.

“This broad across,” she said, holding her hands nearly twice her own shoulder-width apart.

The shopkeeper nodded. “How tall?”

She stepped back towards the door, eyeing it, and raised up slightly on her toes so she could tap a spot only a few inches below the top of the frame. “To there, I think.”

The man nodded. “We have nothing that size in stock.”

In the city, they would have made it for her within a day, and she would have paid the exorbitant price for such fast work without batting an eye.

“But,” he went on, “perhaps I have something upstairs in my trunk.”

He thudded upstairs, leaving her to look around the sparse offerings of the general store. Most of it was scattered offerings of fishing gear; nets, rods, a few tools to repair those, and two pairs of black rubber boots that looked secondhand. There were a handful of farm implements, a few stacks of basic clothing and textiles, ropes and nails and hammers and, for some reason, a women’s straw hat with an incongruously bright red ribbon.

She drifted past it all-- it was meant for the rare newcomer, or for when a well-used item finally gave up the ghost-- to the shelves of food. There were glimmering jars of pickled white fish she knew the shopkeeper made in his own kitchen, tins of tomato paste that cost so much she raised her eyebrows, and dusty sacks of potatoes and onions she was sorting through when she heard the heavy footsteps return.

“I’ve got one set of clothes,” the shopkeeper said. “From my younger days. It’ll do well enough if he’s not particularly vain.”

She nodded. “Don’t think he has the choice to be right now.”

The man chuckled at that. “What else’ll you be needing, then?”

“Three pounds of potatoes and one of onions. And some more clean bandages.”

“And how much have you brought me?”

She shook her head. “Not a trade this time. Haven’t had time to fish.”

“Twenty pieces, then. The clothes are a gift.”

“I don’t need charity.”

“Aye, but this sailor you’ve found does,” he pointed out. “If he’s washed up without even a stitch of clothing and no boat in sight. And I’ll have to say after the preacher’s last visit it’ll weigh on me if I don’t do my part to help.”

She raised her eyebrows as she handed over the coin and collected her bounty. “What’d he say, then? Hellfire and brimstone?”

The man gave her an inscrutable look. “‘Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.’”

She shoved her packages into the sack and bid him farewell, the wooden door creaking shut behind her, and that was that.

In the city, the maid would have spread rumors of the male guest she had squirreled away in her rooms, and by the end of the night she’d have had half a dozen callers coming to inquire after him or to offer her sanctimonious advice about propriety or trying to sneak past her when she fetched tea from the kitchen to get a good look at him. And there’d be a mention of the whole scandal in the society pages, and her sister would be cross with her, never mind the horrible lecture from her mother.

Then again, she’d never have gotten to this point at all. A strange man washing up entirely naked would have been taken to a hospital if he was lucky and the madhouse if he wasn’t, interrogated for hours on end by the police, ended up in the papers and maybe the circus if things had been particularly dull lately, and she never would have encountered him at all apart from seeing an inked illustration in the paper that might have caught her eye for a moment as she watched her father reading it across the breakfast table.

She shifted the sack of potatoes where it was slung over her shoulder. She’d never much cared for the city.

----

The sound of the door opening woke him up. For the first time, when his eyes met hers, they were clear.

She set down the bags she’d carried for the last two miles, rolling her shoulders to soften the ache that had already burrowed deep into them. “Good to see you awake,” she said, crossing over to him.

As she knelt in front of him, for the first time, he opened his mouth and spoke, his voice hoarse but still somehow softer than she’d expected. She didn’t recognize the language, and so she shook her head, and his brows drew together. He tried another tongue, this one sharper around the edges, but she still didn’t recognize it. Frustrated, he leaned back against the bed, his brown eyes looking darker than ever.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she said, raising the back of her hand to his forehead again. To her relief, at last it was cool. “Your fever’s broken, though,” she said, surprising even herself when she smiled.

He looked a little surprised, too, his eyes questioning as they stared intently into hers. “Good,” she said, hoping he’d at least understand something as simple as that. “It’s good.”

Still he just looked at her. With a sigh, she rose to her feet and went back over to the bags, pulling out the clothes the shopkeeper had given her. She tossed them to the stranger, and he caught them in his broad hands.

“I do have some sense of decency, you know,” she said. “Can’t let you keep lying around bare as the day you were born, especially now that you’ll be able to get up.”

Already he was rising, the blanket dropping to the floor. She turned away as quickly as she could, but not before catching a glimpse once more of his well-muscled frame, gilded around the edges by the late afternoon sunlight slanting through the lone window.

Sort of a shame to keep that covered up, she thought, a blush rising in her cheeks when she felt the temptation to steal another glance at him. He certainly wasn’t the first naked man she’d seen, but it’d been a long while now since she’d wanted to touch one, wanted to know if his shoulders were as solid as they looked.

You know how he feels, idiot, she reminded herself, you dragged him up here and bandaged him, didn’t you?

He spoke again, only one short word, and she turned back to find him fully dressed in the shopkeeper’s clothes. To her surprise, they didn’t hang on him quite as loosely as she’d expected; his shoulders nearly filled out the worn white shirt, though the vee at the collar dipped low enough to reveal the bandage still on his chest. He’d tucked it in to the black pants so it didn’t billow so badly around his waist; the extra padding was probably the only thing keeping them on. His feet were still bare, though, and she mentally kicked herself for forgetting a pair of the boots.

“It’ll do for now, I suppose,” she said, tearing her eyes away from him as she crossed to the wall and pointed to the weathered map pinned above the stove. “Look here, now. Let’s see if we can get you sorted out.”

After a moment, he stood behind her. She’d known perfectly well he would loom over her, the top of her head only barely rising to his shoulder, but it was a different thing altogether to feel the sheer size of him behind her, close enough that she could hear the faint sound of his breathing.

She stood on her toes and pointed to northern tip of the peninsula she called home, glancing back over her shoulder. “That’s us,” she explained, and despite the language barrier she knew from the way his eyebrows shot up that he understood her perfectly well.

He reached over her and tapped his own finger several inches away, on the southern end of a small island, before reaching back and setting his hand on his chest.

“Wow,” she breathed, turning back to look at him. “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”

A sadness grew in his eyes as he continued gazing at the map. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as it struck her exactly how difficult it would be for him to return home with no boat or money to buy one with, no way of explaining his situation if he didn’t even understand the most rudimentary words of the language spoken here, not even a friendly face to keep him company.

Except you, she reminded herself. You can help.

“It’s alright,” she found herself saying, and at last he did look at her. She smiled at him again, hoping it did something to comfort him. “You’re welcome here, long as you need. You’ll have to start helping now, of course, not with the light but maybe with the fishing and some of the chores, and I get a bit of an allowance from the government each month, so maybe I can set some aside for you, or you can do odd jobs for the folks in town and--”

His eyebrows drew closer and closer together with each word that escaped her lips. Finally she stuttered to a halt, realizing how utterly useless it was to ramble at him like this. Old habits die hard, she thought morosely, a little embarrassed at how quickly her old annoying tendencies had resurfaced.

She set a hand against her chest, just over her heart. “Anna,” she said quietly. “That’s me. I’m Anna.”

He nodded. “Anna,” he said, testing it out for himself, and a prickle ran down her spine at the sound of her name in his mouth.

“Yes. And you?” she asked, pointing at him.

He only shook his head.

“Anna,” she said again, tapping her own chest. “Anna.”

She pointed at him, but he shook his head again.

“You haven’t got a name?” she questioned. “Not at all?”

He shrugged, looking apologetic, and she sighed. “Never mind, then. I’ll just...I’ll pick something to call you, I suppose. At least now I know you can call for me if you need me.”

He nodded, though she could tell by his expression he didn’t understand, and she began to move away. Before she could, though, he caught her chin carefully between two broad fingers, stilling her.

“Anna,” he said quietly, and she knew it was his way of telling her thank you.

#sorry this took kind of a while #selkie au #tsyh #kristanna #my fics

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irene-sadler · 3 years

Text

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

aka ‘The Tournament’

so it turns out medieval tax law is insanely complicated and even a small amount of side reading on it takes forever. if someone else is for some weird reason interested in knights' fees and some of the problems they caused my source material is this chapter in a very lectury 1895 book which goes into detail about English feudal government income in general. this is probably not the most recent scholarship on the subject and i would not try to use it as a source in a paper but I did not feel like battling with JSTOR's shitty search engine just to research a short color plot in my goofy thronebreaker fanfic. anyway welcome to part 2 of our non-adventure, enjoy (or don't, i am not a beggar.)

---

A week later, Meve had nearly forgotten about the looming duel. She alighted from her horse in the castle courtyard and was instantly handed a report: in Dravograd there was a disagreement between the human and dwarf smithing guilds, which might soon lead to violence. The Queen turned out her favorite knight to solve the distant problem and settled into days of debate over an ongoing issue at home. The trouble, she learned, was that some of her barons had too many knights, overfilling the quota on which the crown drew an annual tax, and paid more than they preferred or could afford. Meanwhile, others had too few, with the result that the realm burdened them less. The latter outnumbered the former by a mathematically considerable amount, so that the crown’s entitlement had fallen short of the expected amount for the year; a new law was required, and had been drafted. However, the batch of them were incapable of finalizing the text of the proposed rule, especially where it concerned the amounts to be payable, and had come to a hopeless standstill in her absence. In the resulting confusion of numbers and obstruction, she only had reason to recall the tournament and its aftermath because a servant brought an unexpected letter to her office.

She eyed the scrawled writing on the front, was informed that it had been delivered to the kitchen by a sullen-looking speechless brigand, shrugged, and left it, unopened, for Reynard. He found it some days later, when he returned from his mission.

“Gascon doesn’t ever write,” he remarked, frowning suspiciously at the Duke’s name on the envelope, and cut it open it cautiously. He tipped it out over Meve’s desk, but it contained nothing dangerous, only a short note on dirty old paper, written in what appeared to be charcoal.

“I presumed it was about your duel,” Meve explained, “Is it?”

“Not - not as such,” he replied, after reading it over a second time; a baffled frown was on his face. “Says he’s departed on a quest, of all things, not to worry about him, will return when he’s finished, or else when Sir Holt gets around to fighting, whichever happens first.”

Meve took the note out of his hand and stared at the offending word in disbelief.

“A quest? Has he lost his mind? This isn’t a bard’s tale; he has a fief to manage, and -”

“It’s getting on to winter, luckily,” Reynard interrupted in his most reasonable tone, “So, there’s not much managing for him to do, just now.”

“Unless there’s a fire, or a war, or bandits,” Meve snapped, gripping the flimsy paper hard.

“Well, you’ve made two of those possibilities rather unlikely, at the moment,” the Count said; he took the letter away and added as Meve instantly crossed her arms, “I agree; this is a ridiculous notion. However, he does appear to have had the foresight to choose a sensible time of year to have it, which is more responsible than usual. For him, I mean.”

“He might’ve said something, instead of simply vanishing,” she complained, feeling that she was losing ground in the argument by remaining silent.

“-and,” Reynard continued, as if she hadn’t, “He can’t have gone very far, else he’d have no way of knowing when this duel is to take place. If, indeed, it ever will.”

Meve brightened slightly and said, “In that case, you should find it simple enough to hunt him down again.”

“I’ll do it if you wish, of course, but will you hear my advice, first?”

“I usually do, I suppose.”

“I think you should just leave it be, for the time being; he’ll return in due time and patience will answer far better than action, to speed the process.”

“Were he anyone else, I’d have him arrested,” Meve said, the glare staying put on her face but her shoulders relaxing slightly in defeat.

“I know that, but in truth, I believe we’ll have our stray dog back soon enough,” Reynard said gently, “All we have to do is wait.”

Patience, instead of action, was not how Meve preferred to operate, but she did her best to do as Reynard suggested, aided considerably by the ongoing distraction of the tax problem. Intelligence crossed her desk, in relation to the knights’ fees and otherwise; no report contained information on the missing Duke, but one included a rumor that briefly distracted even her from her main priority: an informant ended his confidential message on the exact details of her northern vassals’ taxable estates on a strange note.

“Says here an unknown knight’s rumored to be in th’ area of Hawkesburn,” she said to Reynard, after a glance around to ensure they were alone in the room. “Apparently he wears black armor and jousted with all comers who crossed his path, for two days, defeated three knights, and then, on losing to a fourth, vanished again and hasn’t been seen since.”

“How tiresome,” Reynard replied; she laughed at his stuffily disapproving tone and, as it was difficult to collect fees on the armored head of an unverified rumor, forgot about it. She was, after all, quite busy, cooking up a scheme to end the fee stalemate before it brought the court to a complete halt or, worse, came to blows. She set her accountants and clerks to work and soon delivered a new proposal to the court, a plan that settled the matter in a way that heavily profited the crown at the barons’ considerable expense; the document was of course rejected out of hand. She then threatened a royal command, and was pleased to find that all but the most belligerent of her vassals suddenly favored the original, far more equitable proposal that had been drawn up in the first place.

Meanwhile, the end of autumn passed by; the last of the dull brown leaves on the trees blew away in a windstorm and the branches stood bare against the sky. Reliable reports of a werewolf near the northern border were followed, as Reynard was preparing a force to investigate, by further news that the beast had been dealt with by a black knight. The last holdout against the final version of the new tax law suddenly became perfectly amenable to the proposal, after a personal visit from Count Odo, armed with a sword and a bluntly phrased reminder of the baron’s failure to support the Queen during the war. A somewhat embarrassed young knight of Meve’s court turned up, with a believable, unembellished tale in which a stranger in black armor jousted against him on a bridge and knocked him off into the icy creek below. That same day, the new tax law was finally signed by unanimous consent of the court. The weather settled into its usual, predictable early winter pattern - two days of rain, two of sun, one of icy grayness, followed again by rain.

Then, during the afternoon on one of the rainy days, a traveler arrived in court - a familiar man, dressed in mismatched chainmail and leather armor, and bearing a message from Sir Holt of the Fen. Meve happened to be in the armory, considering a new crossbow that could fire two bolts on a single load; he was shown in, followed immediately by Reynard. The sergeant broke off his explanation of the crossbow’s double trigger system, raised an alarmed eyebrow at the Count’s dark expression, and promptly invited himself out; the messenger seemed to feel similarly about the situation and wasted no time making his speech:

“My master asks for your assistance, Your Grace; he was - “ the messenger paused, frowning uncertainly, produced a paper with writing on both sides, and read from it, squinting nearsightedly, “ - he was, I quote, assailed at night at an isolated crossroads, by a knight errant well armed in black armor who spake not; there they did fight a mighty battle for hours -”

“Skip to th’ end, sir,” the Queen said, casually picking a sword from a rack; the messenger glanced at it, quickly flipped the paper over, and summarized the rest:

“ - anyway, he was struck down by the stranger, following which the black knight disappeared into the darkness, as if by an enchantment, and - well, in short, he requests that you send an appropriate force to apprehend the villain. Also, he wishes to inform my lord the Count that he is prepared to do battle with the same, at the Count’s convenience.”

“About damn time,” the Count growled under his breath.

“To clarify,” the Queen said, a slightly malicious gleam in her eye, “Sir Holt, after challenging the best out of all my knights to a personal combat, wants me to send him along to fight off a brigand that he is unable to defeat, himself.”

“That’s about the size of it, my lady,” the messenger said, absently folding his paper into a square and looking carefully blank. She eyed him thoughtfully, wondering what role, exactly, he filled in Sir Holt’s retinue; the question was irrelevant, and so she set it aside for later consideration.

“I see. Well, Count Odo, what say you?”

“I am at your command, as always, Your Grace,” he said stiffly.

“Very well; we’ll depart for Sir Holt’s lands tomorrow morning,” she decided, idly studying the sword she held. “I believe I’d like to meet this mysterious knight for myself; my court sorceress will solve any enchantments, and there will be nowhere for him to hide.”

The messenger bowed his way out; Meve waited a good half minute for him to be well out of earshot and then stepped across to a large map tacked to the armory wall. She considered the north of the country and noted, casually, “Gascon’s estates and Sir Holt’s aren’t so far apart; they’re neighbors, in fact.”

“Oh?”

“Well,” she said, turning back with the sword pointed toward Reynard, “I know of only one anonymous knight errant in black armor in my kingdom, and I certainly have not been riding about the country in the middle of the night, fighting with passing strangers and killing occasional monsters. At least, not recently.”

“No, I daresay I would have noticed, if you were,” Reynard allowed with a fond smile. “So, then, who do you suspect?”

“I don’t know, yet,” Meve said, looking down the length of the blade at him. “It just seems odd that the place where I fought incognito is so near to where a similarly attired knight is now causing trouble. I take issue, sir, with some stranger stealing my disguise and ruining the reputation I forged in it.”

“Or,” he suggested, eyes narrowing, “Perhaps what’s happened is that Sir Holt, not making any connection between the black knight of the tournament and the similar knight at Hawkesburn, heard the same story we did about the latter and invented this tale of his defeat, to draw me out to the countryside and thereby avoid fighting me on home ground.”

“Ah,” she said, lowering the sword. “Yes, I suppose that’s a plausible theory. I can send someone else out, if you’d prefer.”

Her heart lurched suddenly as a slight, dangerous smile crossed his face. She set the sword down absently, said, “No, I didn’t think you would,” and abandoned consideration of far-away knights, black or red, in favor of the much more interesting example she had immediately to hand.

The next morning dawned clear and the weather remained dry; Reynard’s picked company needed little encouragement to take full advantage. The General was in an uncommon hurry, it was plain to see, and so they traveled until late each night with only short breaks. During their third, bitterly cold, evening, a scout came down the column toward his commander and reported, “Seen an armed horseman not far up the way.”

“A highwayman,” the Count suggested; the Queen, overhearing them, said, “Or the black knight.”

The scout shook his head.

“Not likely a knight, my lady, nor no bandit neither, sir, I figure, but I’ll wager he waits for passerby, whatever.”

“It’s just th’ one man,” the Count said, shrugging; nevertheless the column continued somewhat more slowly, with eyes kept to the dark trees around and arrows on their bowstrings. They reached the turn in the road that the scout indicated and paused; the stranger was still there, sitting his horse in the moonlight under a dark hood, apparently waiting. The Queen and Count both leaned forward to squint suspiciously at the oddly familiar figure, and several of the warband as well; the Count then pulled an exasperated frown and sat up suddenly in his saddle.

“Oh, for the love of -”

“Stand down,” Meve ordered, cutting Reynard off, “We know this fellow.”

The stranger laughed, pulled his hood down, and bowed grandly toward his audience. Meve kicked her horse into motion as Reynard said, irritably, “Nice of you to rejoin society, Brossard.”

“Couldn’t miss your duel, could I?” the Duke replied, brightly; the knight had no time to reply as Meve approached, turned her horse, grabbed the Duke’s stirrup, and yanked upwards, tipping him off the opposite side of his alarmed mount. He hit the road with a grunt and immediately sprang upright, surprised and angry, caught sight of the grim expression on the Queen’s face, and mastered himself with an attempt at a nonchalant shrug. She said nothing and rode away; the column followed, leaving Reynard behind.

“Well,” the Duke said, after the last of the warband passed on, “I suppose my unhorsing was long overdue.”

The Count shook his head disapprovingly, recaptured Gascon’s mare, and waited for the other man to clamber, wincing, back into the saddle.

“Nice to see you, too,” Gascon added, settling himself and picking dead leaves off his jacket. “Ouch.”

“Hmm,” Reynard replied doubtfully, releasing the horse.

“Yes, quite, and no more need be said on the subject. Anyway, I rode out t’ invite you and your company to stay at my place. My other place, I mean; the lodge, not the fort, which is inconveniently located for our, um, purposes. It’s about an hour’s ride from here,” he added, in response to the knight’s unspoken question. “I stationed a man partway, to direct you; I myself ought t’ ride on ahead and ensure all’s prepared. Under the circumstances, if you’d kindly relay th’ invitation to your lady love for me, I’d be much obliged.”

“Yes,” Reynard agreed, “That’s probably th’ only good idea you’ve had all month.”

“Well, you know what they say about clocks,” Gascon said, cheerfully enough. “Or is it th’ one about blind squirrels? Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

He galloped off; Reynard sighed and hurried to catch up with the column.

Half an hour later, at a fork in the road, they found Ethan waiting; the squire awkwardly led the warband through the dark woods, attempting to look anywhere except at its silent leader. They arrived just before midnight at a building which resembled a typical hunting lodge in the same way that Rivia Castle resembled the Brossard fort. Meve displayed no particular interest in the vast exterior, built out of the crumbling remains of an elven fortress, or the several hundred hunting trophies mixed with long since out of fashion furnishings that filled the drafty rooms within it. As they entered, Reynard said quietly to her, “Reminds me of my grandfather, this place,” which dragged a slight smile through her tense displeasure; nevertheless she stayed stubbornly silent until they were out of sight and hearing of anyone else but the uncharacteristically courteous Gascon.

“This house is like that menagerie Foltest keeps in Vizima,” she finally remarked, studying a white bearskin rug with the snarling head still attached, “Except that th’ animals are mostly still alive there, of course.”

“I haven’t had the time to redecorate,” Gascon ventured with the air of a man testing the waters. “In truth, this is only the second time I’ve ever been here, myself. My mother never wanted t’ come here when I was young; said it was creepy.”

“She wasn’t entirely wrong,” Meve said, glancing around at the strange shadows the animal heads threw on the walls in the firelight. Reynard shrugged unconcernedly and put an arm around her. A slightly awkward silence fell.

“Would you like to see a camelopard’s head?” Gascon asked, breaking it; Meve looked interested, instead of icily distant, and he pointed the rare trophy out, just over the fireplace in company with a few other preserved monsters. They sat and regarded it for a moment.

“That,” Reynard stated flatly, “Is a horse’s head with spots painted on it.”

“It was quite a fine horse, however,” Meve said with an amused smile, her bad mood forgotten.

“And they’re well-painted spots,” Gascon replied, grinning.

By morning, the incident on the road the night before had been forgotten, by unspoken mutual consent. Meve and Reynard passed an hour of the morning in an argument over their next move; Gascon, meanwhile, conveniently vanished to negotiate with the enemy camp. Eventually the disagreement was resolved by some cunning diplomacy on Meve’s part; she and Isbel then departed to investigate the mystery of the black knight, leaving Reynard behind to await his second’s return.

Rain had set in; they rode through cold drizzle, accompanied by a miserable escort. Isbel considered the dripping soldiers and the sparse, leafless scrub trees that dominated the roadside and finally said, “If the black knight, so-called, can vanish, perhaps by enchantment, as you suggested when you dragged me along on this excursion, it isn’t by light of day, and certainly not into these woods.”

“I know that,” Meve said.

“Then what, may I ask, is the point of this?”

“Why, the fresh air and exercise,” she replied. Silence returned after, for a time, and then the sorceress, in a tone of deep disgust, said, “You’re hoping to find this person before Sir Reynard does, aren’t you?”

“Well - all right; we’ve something of a wager going, on that ring I won in the tourney, and the next of us to win a fight will also win the prize. He, of course, is expecting this duel any day now, so the sooner I find the black knight, the better, as there’s not much chance he’ll lose it.”

The sorceress sighed, cast a despairing look skyward, and noted, “The black knight perhaps does not exist, or may not be found in these parts.”

“Yes, that’s Reynard’s theory,” Meve said, casually, “But I disagree.”

They returned that evening empty-handed and damp, to find Reynard in a state of abject boredom. His gloom was only slightly lessened by Meve’s return and her lack of success; noticing the depressed atmosphere, she attempted to engage him in a chat about the weather, and then, when the conversation failed, talked aimlessly at him about the latest advancements in crossbow design. Gascon returned as night was falling, long after she’d stopped trying to shift his mood and had resigned herself to examining the hunting trophies in the melancholy silence.

“We’ve chosen the field,” he said, “I just went to have a look, as it’s not all that far away. It looks decent; not too many holes in it, and I don’t think it’ll be flooded from all this rain.”

“When?” Reynard asked, testily.

“Tomorrow evening,” said Gascon, “And I should warn you that th’ opposition’s clearly intending to use the sunset to his advantage, should the weather clear, but then, perhaps it won’t.”

Meve glanced out the nearest window; the rain had turned spotty after dark, and she could see stars through patches in the clouds at the western horizon. She frowned and left the men to an involved discussion of the field’s layout; neither of them appeared to notice her departure. She found Isbel studying the camelopard head with a dubious frown. The sorceress kept up the expression as she explained the latest development and only said, wearily, “These men,” in response.

“I thought,” Meve said, idly, “That, perhaps, you’re right about the black knight.”

“Oh?”

“Yes; he certainly shouldn’t vanish very well, by day, at least; we really ought to be hunting for him at night, instead.”

“In this weather?”

“Well, it’s inconvenient, to be sure, and would make fighting him much more difficult, and I suppose that any advantage is worth th’ effort,” Meve said significantly, eying the older woman. Isbel considered the statement a moment.

“Is Sir Reynard in any significant danger?” she asked, pointedly.

“Doubtful,” Meve replied, waving the idea off as it if was impossible; hadn’t even crossed her mind; “This isn’t that serious of a matter. He may be injured, I suppose, but not killed - not on purpose, at least, and he’s been a knight too long for an accident to be likely.”

“Well then, perhaps I might leave early,” Isbel suggested, looking unconvinced.

“The fight’s tomorrow evening,” Meve noted, apparently ignoring the request, “Do you think that the weather will hold, or clear?”

“I don’t know,” Isbel answered, reluctantly. “It’s hard to tell, so far in advance, at this time of year; I suppose it may not.”

“As you say,” Meve said, flashed her victorious smile, and added, “Travel safely; we’ll see you at home.”

#thronebreaker #witcher #action #romance #sports

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years

Text

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Thirteen

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 13: Hurt

Chapter Summary: Steve gets hurt and everybody else has to deal with the fallout. Jerk.

Chapter Word Count: 5197

A/N: I know what the next chapter is going to be and we are continuing our trajectory for ~softness~

I was sitting in bed on a beautifully lazy Saturday morning when my phone rang. I glanced over, expecting to have to tell Steve that I wouldn’t be putting on real pants for anything short of the end of the world and he had to come over or nothing, but it was Sam’s name that showed up on the screen.

“Hi Sam,” I answered and paused my game.

“Hey. I’m sorry to call you like this, but I need to tell you– Steve’s fine now, but he got hurt pretty bad.”

I put down the controller and felt a cold something creep through my body. “How bad?”

“He’ll recover just fine,” Sam said. “But some of his injuries–” He inhaled sharply and I gripped my comforter so hard my hand hurt. “Last I heard, he was still in a medically induced coma, but they were planning to take him out of it soon. It’s actually kind of a good thing though; he was hurting really bad and nothing they did was helping.”

“Because pain meds don’t do shit for him,” I said and held my face. How bad was that bad?

“Yeah,” Sam said, sounding regretful. “I had to get back to DC so I couldn’t stay, but he was doing a lot better when I left. Stable, and on his way to healing up. He’s going to be okay.”

Sure, right, yeah; aside from maybe almost dying before I knew anything about it. Not that I was important enough to know– I was just a friend– but… “Do you think they’d let me visit?”

“I think so. There are SHIELD agents keeping watch but…have you met Natasha yet?”

“No. I’ve met Pepper?”

“She might be able to help if you need it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

Me too, but that was selfish. “Don’t worry Sam, I’ll figure it out. Thanks for letting me know.” I looked at my closet. “Fair warning though– when he’s out of the woods and I stop being freaked out, I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Nat has dibs I think. He was covering her from an explosion.”

“Fine,” I said. “But if she doesn’t do a good enough job, I’ve got second dibs.”

“I’m not contesting that,” he chuckled. “I gotta go. I’m sleeping on my feet.”

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll take a nap.”

“Sam.”

“I’ll be fine when I get a chance to sleep for three days. And I’m going to, I promise you that.”

I didn’t have time to nag. “You better. Bye Sam.” As soon as I hung up I jumped out of bed, put on real pants, grabbed some essentials, and bolted out the door so fast I got halfway down the hall before I realized I had to go back and lock it.

I spent the whole trip there panicking and trying not to panic. Sam said he was going to be fine, so Steve was fine, right? But he was in a hospital, and what kinds of injuries could keep Steve in a medically induced coma? The guy fought aliens and broke bones that healed in half the time and once stubbed his toe on the doorframe and didn’t even flinch.

I tried really hard to think about stubbed toes and slammed elbows rather than the myriad reasons one would be admitted to a hospital. Those thoughts carried me into the building, to the map where I could find his wing, and over and into said wing, up until I almost ran into someone. I pulled back to get around them. “I’m so sorry; I–”

They put themself right back in my path and I jerked back to see not just one but two very imposing, militarily inclined men. “Uhhhh….”

“This area is off-limits to unauthorized visitors,” one of them said.

Right; the SHIELD guys keeping watch. “I’m here to see Steve Rogers,” I said and told them my name in vain hopes I might be on a list or something.

The first guy, a sandy blond who looked like he wanted to drop-kick me out the window, shook his head. “Authorized personnel only. The Avengers probably have an address for fans to send well-wishes.”

Even though they had no reason to know who I was, I bristled at his snide tone. “I’m not a fan; I’m his friend.”

The other guy– dark hair, looked like a washed-up TV action star– snorted and he shared a look with the other guy that very clearly said what they thought of me.

“Ma’am,” Blond said. “Please leave or you will be escorted out.”

I felt sick. Steve was hurt and I couldn’t see him and the embarrassment of being seen as some sort of gross hanger-on was almost too much. Almost. I was too worried to be completely mortified, but I still had no recourse. They were dicks, but they were doing their jobs, and for the moment Steve was…safe. I turned, intending to text Pepper and wait in the cafeteria until she could help me (and maybe get a dusty bagel to help soak up the misery), when I almost smacked right into Tony Stark.

What a day.

“I’m– sorry,” I said lamely and moved aside to get around him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I sighed and told him my name. “I’m a fr–”

“You’re Cap’s little lunch friend,” he said. He knew who I was? Stark waved a hand. “Pepper and Rogers have mentioned you. Well, Pepper mentioned; it feels like Cap brings you up all the time. You going in to visit?”

“I was going to, but–”

“Chickened out?”

“Not allowed, apparently,” I said and jabbed my thumb in the direction of the gargoyles. At least the assholes pretended to be more professional then and stopped snickering, but even Tony Stark (aka Iron Man) peering expectantly at them from the top of designer sunglasses just made knockoff-Stallone shake his head.

“No unauthorized visitors allowed,” he repeated.

“Oh come on; what’s Cap going to say when he finds out you chased off his BFF?”

They looked at me like they still didn’t believe it for a second. Blond said, “I’m sure Captain Rogers will understand we’re just doing our jobs.”

The worst part was that they were right, damn it.

“What does she need? A note from home?” Stark waved his hand. “I can write one; who has paper. We still do paper sometimes, right?”

“She needs proper authorization,” the guy on the right sneered.

“Consider this authorization.”

We all jumped at the sudden appearance of a man in a suit, whose calm smile made him look like the dictionary definition of ‘mild mannered.’ The two guards, however, stood very rigidly at attention. “Sir.”

The new man said my name and extended his hand. “I’m Phil Coulson.”

I shook his hand and introduced myself properly. “I’m sorry but– am I allowed to–”

“You can visit Captain Rogers whenever you like,” Phil Coulson said and looked right at the guards. “Understood?”

“Yes sir,” they said, much less enthusiastically than their initial acknowledgement to him.

“Not that Captain Unblemished is going to be here that long, but hey.” I suddenly had a small bouquet of flowers in my hands, thanks to Tony Stark. “Since you’re allowed all-access now, can you give these to Cap? I’ve got things to do.”

“Uhh, sur–”

“Thanks, nice meeting you, etcetera et al,” Stark said and left with a dramatic turn.

Somehow I had imagined a little more mocking, maybe a few accusatory points about me ruining some of his fun in poking at Steve, but the guy seemed…annoyed. And not necessarily with me. I turned my head to Coulson, who only shook his. “This last assignment got…complicated,” he said and opened his arm towards the hall. Understatement, but at least I was finally going to get to see Steve. The two…gentlemen…parted, and my second savior (wait until I told Steve who the first was) walked with me.

“He’s right in here,” Phil– Coulson– Phil Coulson said, standing next to an open door with no room number. The inside was very dimly lit, and the curtain drawn halfway over the door blocked the bed from sight, but I felt less like a tension rod.

“Thank you, Mr. Coulson,” I said. “I’m sorry if I caused problems.”

“It was no problem for me, and there won’t be more for you,” he said like it was a promise. “And please, Phil is fine. I was on my way out earlier and I’m afraid I still have to go, but it was nice to finally meet you. Hopefully next time we’ll see each other under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, next time. Thank you,” I said and stepped in.

It was so quiet, and mostly dark, aside from a single light off in the corner. Steve was very still in the bed, bruised and bandaged, but I could see his chest moving. He looked roughed up, but he didn’t look comatose. He didn’t even look like he had come close to death. He just looked like he was sleeping.

I set the flowers down on the nearest flat surface and walked slowly, quietly, to the chair next to his bedside, and perched on the edge of it. I wasn’t sure, at first, if I should stay– he was sleeping; was this creepy?– but the more I looked at him the more I settled in. One of his arms was completely wrapped up; there was a bruise on his jaw, closer to his neck than his chin; a strip of stitches on his neck; one, two, three, four, five scratches that I could see, plus a patch of skin that was raw, like it had rubbed against concrete. He didn’t look as bad as I’d expected him to, which I assumed meant all the terrible things had happened on the inside.

But he was breathing. He wasn’t even on oxygen; nothing about the machines around him said he was in dire straits. With a little bit of makeup he could have looked like a hospital patient in a Hallmark movie, ready to wake up and be released at any moment.

But he had been hurt. He had been hurt badly enough that it was a blessing he had been out for the healing process. I didn’t know why I hated that idea so viscerally, but it made me want to punch something.

I sighed. A small tuft of hair hung at a weird angle over his forehead and I brushed it back into place. Then, just to reassure myself, I let my hand hover over his mouth and felt a warm, steady pulse of air.

“They took him out of it earlier.”

I jumped so hard I hit my feet and had to windmill so as not to crash into one of the monitors. Miraculously, I didn’t knock anything over or otherwise make a lot of noise, and Steve didn’t show any signs of waking. Once I was done with my quiet heart attack, I turned to face the woman standing at the end of the bed. She had red hair and eyes sharp enough to cut. I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly who she was.

“Uh…hi,” I said and forced my hand down, away from my heart and to my side. I told her my name and waited for her to finish looking me over.

“Natasha Romanoff,” she said.

Yup. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “Steve says a lot of good things.”

She barked a laugh. “Did Rogers pay you to say that?”

That was surprisingly harsh, so I kept quiet. I was batting a thousand today. But she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry.” She straightened out and looked completely composed. Neat trick. “It’s been a long week.”

“I bet,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She moved her eyes to Steve and frowned. “Annoyed, but that’s not fatal.”

“Yeah, I’d have been dead a long time ago if it was,” I said and shrugged. “But I also would have taken a few jerks out with me, so…win some, lose some, I guess.”

She made a small noise that was neither this way nor that and I shut my mouth before I could embarrass myself further. She walked around to his other side. “Who called you?”

“Sam.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“Not…exactly,” I said. I didn’t really want to tell her because I wasn’t sure her current sense of humor would allow for me to fake-threaten our mutual friend, but she looked at me so hard I got my bank information and social security number ready to go just in case she wanted them. “I got upset and made a joke about having dibs on kicking Steve’s ass when he’s better. Sam said actually you had it first since Steve was covering you in some explosion?”

Her lips pressed tight for a moment as she stared at Steve. “He didn’t have to.”

“But he’ll probably argue it when he gets up.” I looked at him. “He’s a jerk like that.”

“Yes. He really is,” Natasha said. She started to reach for him, but then abruptly stepped back. “I’m– I can’t deal with him yet.” She started to leave, but stopped at the edge of the curtain. “Are you staying for a while?”

“I think so.” I pulled out my book to show her and set it on my lap. “I don’t really have much else to do today.”

She nodded curtly. “Good. The rest of us do, but Steve…he doesn’t have the best reaction to waking up in medical. It’ll be better if he has a friend.”

I couldn’t imagine anyone having a great reaction to waking up alone, in a hospital, after almost dyi– “I’m on it,” I said before I could delve too deep into those thoughts.

“Thank you,” she said with a brief burst of warmth that almost made her seem like someone else. Then she was back to being aloof. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.”

I didn’t even have time to say “Bye” before the curtain swooshed behind her and settled into place like she was never there.

It was a couple of hours before Steve began to stir, and I had only left my seat to stand up and stretch a few times. I didn’t know he was awake at first, until I saw part of the pillow shift, and I put my book on my lap to find him staring at me. Drowsily, but definitely staring.

“Hi.” He squinted and frowned. “Am I dreaming?”

I snorted and put my bookmark in before I set the book on the table. “No. I’m pretty sure your subconscious isn’t that mean to make my face the first one you see.”

He frowned deeper. “My subconscious definitely isn’t that mean to you.”

“Hey, I call it like I see it.” I leaned in closer. We were both quiet, and I was content to stay that way. “I’ve been looking up photos and your teammates are pretty. I mean, Sam alone would be a good sight.”

“Sam is very handsome,” he agreed so easily it made me smile. “But it’s not so bad to wake up to you. Not bad at all.”

“Do they have you on pain meds?” I asked.

He shrugged, and winced as he did so. “Doubt I could tell if they did. I don’t hurt as much anymore, though.”

“Good. That’s good.” I swallowed. “I’m glad you're okay.”

He got a small smile. “Soft.”

“Only right now. You scared the shit out of me.”

Steve lost his smile and opened his eyes wider. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, it’s just…” It felt like my throat swelled, so I took a second to try and compose myself.

But Steve was alert now and sat up. “Hey, no; come here.”

I didn’t quite know what he meant, until I saw his arms open and, well, why not. I couldn’t help but glance at the door but there was no new noise and nobody I could see, and I leaned in to hug him as gently as I could. He wrapped his arms around me, warm and breathing and feeling like normal. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You scared a lot of people,” I said and stayed there until his grip loosened and I could pull back. “But since I’m selfish, yeah; mostly me.”

He smiled weakly and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry you had to find out.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m glad; I…I guess maybe it’s weird for you that I’m here–”

“It’s not,” he said. “It’s definitely not. I’m just sorry I upset you.”

“It’s an upsetting thing.” I shrugged. “Emotions. They kind of suck.”

“Sometimes,” he said. Someone knocked on the door and we both looked when someone came in. I winced as the lights were turned on, but I suddenly realized Steve had still been holding my hand up until that point, when he released it to rub his eyes.

“Oh, sorry Captain,” the doctor said and she smiled at me. “I didn’t realize you had a visitor.”

“Oh, hi Dr. Sherazi,” Steve said, sounding a little brighter. He introduced me to her and we shook hands. I was getting a little tired by all the new people, but I tried not to let it show too much. Steve was worse off; I could be okay for him.

“When I said don’t be a stranger this isn’t quite what I meant,” she said and started checking monitors. When she turned to me, face already expressing apologies, I knew what was coming and I looked at Steve.

“Go home.” He reached out and touched my arm. “I’ll be okay.”

And I didn’t hide myself that well, apparently, because he gave me a Look that said he knew I’d rather be gone. I wasn’t sure whether to feel bad about that or not. “Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to call Sam and after that I’ll probably be besieged by people wanting to yell at me.” He cringed. “I…don’t want anyone to see that, really.”

I nodded because I didn’t want to be obnoxious, but after I packed up I asked him, “Is it okay if I come back tomorrow? I don’t– I don’t have any plans, really; but it’s okay if you don’t…”

“I’d like that,” he said and opened one arm. I hugged him one more time and took a real breath for the first time since that phone call.

The next day I pre-planned my morning and set off with a few extra supplies. I stopped by a pastry shop on the way and stood in a long line to get a drink for me, fill a thermos for Steve, and buy a few treats which I shoved in my bag with his tightly-lidded coffee. When I got to the hallway and saw the same two guards I braced myself, but they looked resigned when they saw me.

“We apologize for the misunderstanding yesterday,” the dark-hair one said and his partner muttered something similar. “And for our reactions; it was uncalled for.”

I tried to smile as brightly as I could. “It’s okay; I can be a bitch sometimes too so, hey, kindred spirits,” I joked.

He frowned. Deeply. My smile fell. “It was a– I was just kidding; I meant–” I sighed and gave up when his face didn’t change. “I’m sorry,” I said and left.

Steve looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I came in and threw the curtain back into place behind me. “Even when I try to be nice I fucking suck at it,” I said and dumped my bag on the chair.

“Good morning to you too,” Steve chuckled and put his fork down. “What happened?”

I opened my mouth and stopped. He looked normal, healthy, but he was still in a hospital bed. “Don’t worry about it,” I said and put my drink on the side table so I could rifle through my bag. “Here,” I said and handed him the thermos.

“You're my favorite,” he said fervently and took it.

That made me smile again. Pretty big, too. “Also here,” I said and put the two white bags on his tray. “This place didn’t have strawberry so I got you a chocolate and a plain croissant.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” he said and pushed the hospital’s plates aside so he could dig in.

“Yeah, yeah; eat it before someone else walks in. I didn’t bring enough to share.” I was the best. My smile was almost painful, but luckily Steve was too distracted to notice while I wrestled it under control. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. The burns are gone.” He held up his arm to show me skin instead of gauze.

“I guess you’re not going to be the mummy for Halloween.”

“No, but I could be Frankenstein’s monster maybe.” He extended his neck to show me the scar where his stitches had been.

“Tch.” I sat back. “It’ll be gone in a few days.”

“Like nothing ever happened,” he quipped, too lightly, but that was an issue I didn’t know how to tackle.

“Except for my new blood pressure medication from the heart attack you gave me.”

“Were you that worried?” he asked jokingly.

“Yes,” I said. He went silent and stopped eating. “Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to deal with actual concern.”

“I could learn,” Steve said with a softer smile.

“You’ll need to with friends like yours,” I said. “They were all pretty worried.”

He shrugged. “Most.”

Maybe– I hadn’t met all of them– but I was pretty sure I knew who he meant. “I don’t think I would have been allowed in without Tony Stark’s help when he came to visit,” I said. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There are some SHIELD guys making sure not just anybody can come in and some random chick claiming to be your friend naturally didn’t make the cut. But when I was about to leave, Tony Stark came up on his way in and made it a thing until Phil Coulson came by and said I could be here.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “I’ll have to thank Tony.”

“Me too, but I’m trying to figure out how,” I said. “I’m thinking the cheesiest fucking card I can find but I don’t think he’d get that I’m joking. That would be awkward.”

Steve smiled. He was about to say something but I caught sight of the book in his lap and I jerked to attention as I suddenly remembered. “I brought you books!” I said and got them out to hand to him. “Just in case you get bored. I almost forgot.”

“Thank you,” he said, laughing, and set them aside. “Did you ‘just remember’ because you know I was going to say something sincere?”

Huh. “No, but wow, I got lucky.”

“Steve, you’ve got to get some friends that aren’t emotionally constipated.”

We both looked to the doorway to see a man with two butterfly bandages on his cheek, a smudge of dirt on his throat (in blatant contrast to his obviously recently washed hair), and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The price sticker was still on the cellophane wrapping and I snorted at the sight. Perfectly coifed spies and billionaires were something else. This guy was an unmistakable disaster. I could handle that.

“But then how would he relate?” I asked as the man came over to give Steve a hug and place his flowers next to the set from Tony Stark.

“I’m way better with my emotions than you are,” Steve said, looking at me as his friend stood up.

“That’s like saying you’re taller than the ground,” I said. His friend laughed and I…took a little pride in that; sue me. Steve then introduced me to Clint Barton.

“Hawkeye,” Clint said and grinned wolfishly. “But if you don’t know who Captain America is then I’ve got no chance.”

I glared at Steve. “You told people about that?”

“It’s funny,” he said, his smirk nearly matching Clint’s grin for deviousness alone.

But Clint’s face fell when he sniffed the air. “Hey,” he said. “It smells like chocolate in here.”

“She brought me a chocolate croissant,” Steve said.

“Aw.” Clint deflated.

“Yeah, it’s all gone. Sorry,” Steve said.

Clint narrowed his eyes. “You're not sorry at all, are you?”

“Nope,” Steve said cheerfully.

Clint looked at me and jerked his thumb in Steve’s direction. “This guy.”

“Yup, he’s an asshole,” I agreed. I looked at Steve. “But for some reason we like him anyway.”

“For some reason.”

Natasha was apparently the queen of sneaky entrances, but I didn’t jump this time. She was a little steely, until she saw me looking, and then she gave me a real smile and greeted me with a hello.

Maybe she was like a shark waiting to bite, but I hadn’t done anything wrong, so I smiled back. “Hello Natasha.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m all right. You?”

“I’m much better, thank you.”

“I don’t like this,” Clint said, creeping towards the door.

“You two have…met?” Steve asked, not taking his eyes away from Natasha. Smart.

“Briefly,” Natasha said.

She and Steve stared each other down and I looked around but Clint was gone. Oh. I looked at them. “Should I leave?”

Steve opened his mouth. “Please,” Natasha said politely, without looking at me. “We won’t be long.”

“Okay.” I stood up and left my bag at the chair, but I hesitated. However the way they looked at each other– Natasha ready to strike and Steve ready to defend– made this completely out of my league. I slipped out the door and shut it behind me.

“Oh geeze,” Clint said.

I sighed and stared at the door. I didn’t hear anything, but that wasn’t necessarily good. “I can’t believe I was so worried about him almost dying only to lose him like this. Unfair.”

Clint patted my shoulder consolingly.

But only a couple of minutes passed before Natasha opened the door, and she wasn’t covered in blood. That seemed like a good sign. Then again, strangling someone wouldn’t cause a whole lot of blood loss. I couldn’t help but peek in first and Clint did the same, but while Steve looked a little stunned, he was still alive.

“Wow,” I said and went back to my seat.

“I have excellent self-restraint,” she said and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. “At least we finally got to meet you.” Her tone dipped into teasing. “Steve has been so sly, stealing away all the time for his lunch dates.”

Steve turned red and ducked down. “Come on, Nat.”

“Not very sneaky are you?” I said, even though it was true.

“No, he really isn’t.” Natasha’s lips were tinged with amusement. “But I hear you’re pretty direct yourself.”

I shrugged. “Guilty.” I looked elsewhere. “I don’t have the best filter.”

“You’re fine,” Steve said.

Maybe, but most likely not really. He was probably just being nice to me because I had fallen to pieces the day before. I cleared my throat and sat back when I realized I was leaning close to Steve. I could do this; I could make nice with his friends. I hoped. “By the way Natasha, thanks for that photo of Steve chucking Sam into the water. It’s my desktop background.”

“It’s what?!”

I ignored Steve and so did Natasha, but Clint laughed. Natasha smiled. “I’m glad you appreciated it. It is one of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken.”

I realized something then and dared to get my hopes up. “Steve. Surfing. Is there video?”

“Of course” and “Of course not” came in unison from Natasha and Steve respectively, and he whipped his head in her direction so fast I heard his neck crack.

“Natasha,” he pleaded.

“That’s very valuable blackmail though,” she told me. “I have stories that would unseat politicians I’d charge less for.”

“How much to peek at stills?”

“I’m sure your job is lovely, but it’s still probably more than you make.”

“A recounting of the experience?”

“Hmm…how detailed?”

“I’ll take subject-verb-object at this point.”

“Steve surfed wave.” Her lips curled devilishly. “Wave surfed Steve.”

“Two sentences?” I gasped.

“Well, I like you,” she said.

“Hey Clint,” Steve said. “Do me a favor and tell the doc I want those experimental pain meds she was trying to talk me out of. Or just, anything that makes me unconscious so I don’t have to hear Nat get sweet-talked into giving up that video.”

“Wow, you really do believe in me,” I said. “It’s okay though, my imagination can take it from here.”

Steve’s mouth screwed downwards. “I have no friends. Everyone I love is dead to me.” He looked thoughtful. “Or dead.”

That was so delightfully dark it shocked me into laughter, and Clint too by the sound of it. Natasha, however, punched him so hard he actually said “Ow!” and rubbed his arm.

I stayed with them for a couple of hours, until my patience began to fray and I started checking the clock. Not that Natasha and Clint weren't great (I might have fallen a little in love with her when she made a “Die Hard” joke so wonderfully dumb that Clint got caught up in a groan while he laughed) but I was just…getting tired. Before I could attempt some pathetic excuse, though, my phone buzzed and I pulled it out.

Pepper: You might want to warn Steve that Tony is on his way.

“Oh boy,” I said and fired off a quick ‘thanks.’ When I looked up they were all staring at me, and I looked at Steve to get my grounding. “Pepper just said Tony Stark’s on his way.”

“‘Oh boy’ is right.” Steve grimaced. “You should probably go before he gets here.”

I hesitated, because that seemed a little crappy, however…I knew my limits. “Yeah, I– I don’t think I have the energy for him.”

“Don’t worry.” Natasha took a seat. “We’ll supervise.”

“Aww,” Clint said, but he showed absolutely no sign of moving. How someone could lean almost 180 degrees in a chair that was very solidly 90 degrees (if not less) and even pretend to look comfortable I had no idea, but more power to him.

I packed up and stopped to hug Steve. He held me a little longer than I expected. “Don’t worry; I’ll be out by tonight,” he said and let go. “And as soon as I’m done with debriefs, I’ll let you know. I still owe you lunch.”

“So you better stick around.” I stood. “I’ll collect. Someday.”

“I won’t hold my breath on that one,” he said.

I held my heart and looked in Clint and Natasha’s direction. “He’s learning.”

I got a pillow to the face, but Natasha got a new cushion. And while Steve may have been annoyed…he was okay. And he was going to continue to be okay.

Win-win.

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy

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annacwrites · 4 years

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the wip list

Alright, gang. Buckle up. This is going to be a long one, and at this point I can’t even bring myself to be sorry about it. I meant to put this off but then I started thinking about it, so here we are (at 1:05 in the morning when I have to work at 8:30, what am I doing?).

I’m going to break this down in a couple of ways—fanfiction vs. original fiction, fandom (if it’s a fanfic), series/universe (if it’s in one), and then the individual books themselves (if I have the ability to do that, because quite frankly, for some of these I don’t because I have no idea what the titles are or where I’m splitting the story yet).

Also, “WIP” is an incredibly broad term here. In some cases it means I’ve already written the whole thing but I plan to 100% rewrite it (and haven’t started yet). In some cases it means I’ve written half of the thing but haven’t finished yet. In some cases it means I have it all outlined but haven’t started writing yet. In some cases it means I haven’t really touched an outline on paper yet but I have it all worked out in my head. Take the “in progress” part of WIP with a grain of salt.

(Putting this whole thing under the cut because it is so freaking long. I apologize if the read-more doesn’t work on your dash. Idk what tumblr is doing.)

Starting off easy—the fics:

Harry Potter: (JKR can fuck off with her transphobia and cultural appropriation and all the other stupid and fucked-up shit that she’s done/promoted but, as I said to my friends, she can pry my next-gen fanfics from my cold dead hands. Cursed Child is not canon in my life because I’ve never read it and I don’t care what nonsense she came up with.)

The “In Your Arms I’ll Stay” universe (Tedtoire/Scorose):

The first fic in this universe is the first fic I ever finished. 110k words followed up by a ~137k word sequel. It is a disaster and a half but it’s also my baby and I fully intend to rewrite it one of these days. It is full of standard Tedtoire trope-y nonsense—best friends since childhood! two-year age gap! jealousy about other relationships! obliviousness!—and at 15 I thought it was a really good idea to try to turn it into a mystery too, which is a mistake that I have every intention of rectifying because it was unnecessary and I just didn’t know how to do drama and tension back then.

Anyway. It will probably be two parts again when I rewrite it because one part per school year just works, yeah? We’re covering Vic’s fifth/Teddy’s seventh year and Vic’s sixth year/Teddy’s first year out of school over the course of these parts.

Within this universe we also have Heartbeat and Bone, which is a Scorose fic that I’ve written probably 75% of already but have no intention of actually finishing before I rewrite it. I want to get the stories in the right order so that I can get details straightened out, so Teddy and Victoire get the rewrites first and then I’ll be revisiting this fic. Also full of trope-y nonsense (and my continued acceptance of the headcanon that the Heads have their own dormitory at Hogwarts, because it’s just too much fun that way).

some things were meant to be (Tedtoire):

Oh god, another fic with a cliché title taken from Can’t Help Falling In Love. I have zero regrets because it fits them perfectly.

This one is... half-done? I fully intend to finish it but I need to finish the outline first. It was my 2019 NaNoWriMo project and I am 100% just writing it for the lols (and because Teddy and Vic are like... my comfort ship where writing is concerned). I wanted to play with a different universe and change up their relationship and roles at school a bit, but once again... trope-y nonsense. It’s unavoidable with them. There is obliviousness everywhere.

Star Wars: (it’s Reylo, okay? It’s Reylo. I don’t want to hear it about how the ship is ~so terrible.~ That is literally the furthest thing in the world from a hot take, you can’t say a single thing that I haven’t heard before, and I’m a grown adult and can do what I want. Bite me.)

looking for the map that leads me home (Reylo):

Stole the title on this one from We Take Care of Our Own by Bruce Springsteen, because why the fuck not, right?

To put it simply: musician AU. To put it a little less simply: he’s got a dead career, she wants to have even the slightest shot at one, Rose is the best, Poe’s a singing heartthrob, Finn is a love-struck goofball. You know, all that fun stuff. The entire thing is based on a playlist that I made and every chapter has a song that acts as its theme. I haven’t touched it since January 2018. I want to finish it eventually but it’s not really at the top of the priority list.

There’s a few other fics from other fandoms that I’ve started and never finished but the odds of me touching them again are like... nonexistent, so I’m not including them here. I’ll update this post if anything changes on that front (but it probably won’t).

Now for the complicated part—the original fiction:

Maker’s Magic

This is a trilogy (or at least, it’s supposed to be). This is also a rewrite of the first story I ever finished—the fantasy novel that I wrote for my first-ever Camp NaNoWriMo back in August of 2011, when I had literally no clue what I was doing at all and essentially stole the plot structure from The Obsidian Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey and built my own story around it. This is not a good way to write a piece of fiction that you want to publish, kids, but it is a damn good way to get your feet wet when you’ve never really written before.

I am reworking this story entirely from scratch. The characters are... kind of the same as the original story. Kind of. Maybe. I’ve changed a few names and merged a few people together and scrapped some others and entirely shifted the backstory of pretty much everyone, but... they’re definitely still the same, right?

Basically, at this point the plot is really only similar to The Obsidian Trilogy in that we’ve got a trilogy, we’ve got some elves, and it’s your standard good vs. evil fantasy story (in its own unique fashion, of course). I’m still working out the details of this rewrite, but this is kind of the Holy Grail of all of my writing projects and the one that I’m most concerned about getting right, so I’m anticipating that I’ll be in it for the long haul on this one. I’m hoping I might be able to get a draft of the first book done this year, but... we’ll see.

(I also don’t want to give too many details about this project, ‘cause it’s the one that I’d really like to maybe publish one day, so...)

The Willow Hill universe

This started as a single story plus a standalone sequel set in the same universe, conceptualized when I was fourteen and missing horseback riding terribly (so yes, it is a story for all those Weird Horse Girls™ out there). I wrote a good portion of it, then deleted it, then rewrote the entire thing, then deleted it again a few years ago because I was no longer satisfied with the writing quality (after hitting top 100 on the Teen Fiction list on Wattpad way back when, so... I didn’t do too badly as a 16-year-old, but the writing still sucked). I’ve been promising a rewrite to my Wattpad followers since 2016 or something like that (2014? Whenever the hell it was that I deleted it the second time) but haven’t delivered at all.

I now envision this universe as a duology plus the aforementioned standalone sequel, except it’s not entirely fair to call it a YA duology in that the first book is definitely YA, but the second is more romance-y?

I originally just revealed the main character’s endgame relationship in the epilogue of the story, but I love both her and her boyfriend and their relationship so much that I decided that I’m going to be self-indulgent and write the story of them actually falling in love with each other, so that’s book two (so really, you don’t actually have to read book two to understand anything, I’m just writing it because I want to and it’s also kind of a present to anyone who read the original story when they were also a teenager and is now an adult who wants to read other stuff).

Book one is now about the teenage struggle of crushes and trying to figure out what it is that you actually want out of your life and what you value (I say “now” because it was definitely way more self-insert-y the first time I wrote it and it is decidedly not at this point). It’s also sort of a love letter to trainers who are amazing and the kind of person we should all be so lucky as to be coached by.

These characters are my comfort characters where original fiction is concerned since they’ve been bouncing around in my head for the last ten years or so, and I’m hoping I can get at least the first book rewritten in the next year-ish, partly because I’ve been promising it for so long, and partly because I just really enjoy this world and I want to get back to it again.

The Coffee Shop Chronicles

AKA, I lived in one coffee shop on my university campus for pretty much the entirety of my college experience and it was a very inspiring place to be, so this has less to do with coffee shop AUs and more to do with the fact that I met several of my favorite human beings on this earth over a vanilla chai latte and mutual sass with the baristas.

(One of said baristas is very near and dear to me and introduced me to another regular who is now a very good friend with the statement “You’re both sarcastic assholes. You’ll love each other.”)

None of the characters in this universe are based on actual human beings whom I know, but I liked the idea of the campus coffee shop serving as this thing that tangentially connected all of these people to one another, much in the way that I am tangentially connected to god knows how many people via my barista friend. Essentially, the idea is that the stories in this universe are all standalone, but the characters sometimes cross paths with one another at Caffeinated, so it’s sort of... Easter-egg-y in terms of who pops up where in which story.

Currently I only have two stories in this universe that are legitimately plotted out, but there is room for any number of spin-offs based on whichever characters show up in those stories (or don’t—that’s the fun of it being a coffee shop. The barista is the only reliable character). Those two stories are as follows:

Chance Encounters (title so totally subject to change, also stealing the terribly summary from the Wattpad draft that never saw the light of day):

For Bennett McGuire, things with guys just didn't seem to want to go her way. From the disasters that were her attempts at dating in high school to the problem that had been Elijah Becker, she hadn't exactly had the best luck. With all that in mind, it made perfect sense to swear off dating until she finished college—that is, it made sense until one frozen day in February when Gordon Evans walked into her life. After that, who was to say what would happen?

What’s Your Metaphor? (once again, enjoy the terrible summary from the Wattpad draft that never was. I am cringing reading it but also too tired to come up with anything better):

"What's the point?"

It's a question asked widely, for all sorts of reasons, and it's one that April Hayes didn't know the answer to any better than anyone else. All she knew was that she had her plan, and she was going to stick to it, because it was the only thing that seemed to have any sort of logic to it in her life. The things she thought, the things she believed—well, they all fell before the plan, because she didn't have time to ask herself "What's the point?"

That is, she didn't have the time to know the answer—her answer—until one guy by the name of Drew Collier showed up and made her consider things that she had never even thought of before.

High Blood

Yinz can go read my WIP introduction post for this one. It’s a fantasy story. Just for the hell of it, here’s the summary from said WIP introduction post:

At the age of seventeen, Thessaly of Averak had a choice—take the crown of her people and her place as her father’s heir, or set it aside to become one of the High Warriors, dedicated to protecting their people and the country that her long-dead ancestor Enred built after leading its citizens out of a long and bloody war. Amidst raids and famine at the borders, she gave up her crown to better serve the people that her family rules.

Ten years later, all is quiet. At least, all is quiet until Beca’s pendant is stolen by a thief who disappears into the night on the journey back from the summer palace, Tess gets herself stabbed, and the discovery is made that the rock-solid foundations of their family’s claim to the throne—and the peace that depends upon them—are laced with hairline fractures.

(I didn’t write anything to speak of for Camp NaNo July 2020 and actually wound up deleting my project for this on the NaNo site because my dad was hit by a car while cycling the Friday before the weekend when I was planning to write like... 30k words to catch up, so obviously I gave up on that plan (he is doing well now, thank you for asking). I’m hoping I’ll get around to this one eventually because this particular universe arguably has the most potential for having multiple stories set in it, fantasy-wise.)

Emerson’s Lights

Natalie Flynn has been best friends with Evan Acheson practically since birth. They've stuck together through thick and thin, from her braces in seventh grade to his jump to stardom as a singer-songwriter their freshman year of college.

She’d do anything for him, but spending a week with him on tour involves a lot more than she bargained for, culminating in the turn of events that is Caleb Blake, lead singer and primary songwriter of opening act Emerson’s Lights, moving into her house for the better part of a month.

She always knew there would be complications being the best friend of a rock star, but this? This was one that she didn’t bet on.

(Aka, girl meets boy in a band trope. Yay.)

(NaNoWriMo 2020 project)

The famous musician story (this thing doesn’t have a title right now and I’m not even going to try)

Stupid, trope-y nonsense idea that I came up with for my own personal amusement and nothing else. I’ve written a few chapters of it but genuinely have no idea where this falls in the hierarchy of things that I want to get done. Long story short, she’s in grad school for history, he’s a famous musician in town recording for a new album, they meet in the library, she pretends she has no idea who he is, and shenanigans ensue.

And that is where I think I’m going to leave it. There’s four other stories that I can think of off the top of my head that I could theoretically add to this list, but they are legitimately just ideas right now so they can be added at a later date when they’ve manifested themselves a little more strongly. There’s also another quartet in the Willow Hill universe that I came up with in high school that could theoretically be added but I think I might just steal those character names and give them their own little world instead. We’ll see.

Basically, if you didn’t get the point from this list: I am working on a lot of things, and when I say I’m writing, it could mean literally anything on this list (or any of the other ideas that I have floating around). The stories/universe here are the most likely candidates for my time, depending on whether I’m doing a deep dive into my writing or just playing around with something fun, and hopefully (god, hopefully) I’ll be able to move one or two of these to a “completed works” list in the next year(ish).

(Or at least, as complete as a draft ever gets before you start going in on it again.)

#the wip list

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moistwithgender · 5 years

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Media Roundup (February 2019)

I wanted to try and squeeze in one last finished show into the last day but I ended up having a really bad sleep schedule hiccup. Anyway, here’s what I finished this month:

Games:

This is actually the shortest list this month, on account of me mostly playing through a single game somewhat slowly. If you follow my posts, you might be able to guess what series it’s a part of.

Super Robot Wars EX (SNES): At the end of the previous post I warned that if you want to get into SRW, SRW2 is an extremely rough starting point, even though it’s canon to the four or five original SRW canon games mostly on the SNES. Thankfully, there is a youtube video that shows you all the dialogue and combat snippets from SRW2. That said... if I wanted to stick hard to canon, I would have either played SRW3 first, or waited for the incoming re-fan-translation that will drop probably at the end of March. BUT, I wanted to play SRW and not jump to a game so far ahead that the mechanics alienate me to the earlier games, so I started EX. EX is largely a contained side story that takes place in and revolving around the original properties of SRW canon. Said original properties involve La Gias, the world that exists inside of planet Earth, and a three-sided war involving mechs that run on magic. There’s a lot of politics and strategic talk and fantasy worldbuilding grounded in fantasy science and it’s actually really fucking cool. They take the time to explain how due to a (magical) scientific phenomena, prophecies are always accurate in La Gias (yet preventable with the right effort), which is exactly the kind of bullshit I love.

However, due to summoning rituals, the setting is also flooded with “Surface Dwellers”, AKA people from different mecha anime who have been written into a melting pot setting that contains all their narratives (sometimes cleverly tweaked to allow and complement each other). This isn’t just a hand wave, but worked into big plot points. It is genuinely stunning how much the creators of these games actually tend to give a shit about making these narratives believable and interesting. I say “believable”, though it’s also worth noting that, as with manipulated inclusion of various IPs, canon is general is somewhat malleable in SRW. There are usually multiple plot options in the games, and EX features a unique system with three separate campaigns that, depending on the order you play them, and also depending on the choices you make and how well you play, change the sequence of events in other campaigns as they weave into each other. It’s not handled amazingly, and to see everything, you may play the campaigns some three times each. I don’t really have that kind of patience, because these early SRW games are also sufficiently challenging games. While not nearly as bullshit as SRW2, EX features a fair amount of incentive to save and reset for better RNG, and you might spend an hour or longer on later maps because situations get really tight. EX is also considered one of the easier early games (phew). Despite that, the maps are almost all really enjoyable, you just have to be willing to work for your victory at times.

The writing, with much credit going to the stellar fan translation imo, is also a compelling read, and dialogue is frequently hilarious despite how much it also focuses on political intrigue and fatal drama. The “hard” campaign (at times equally or less difficult than the “intermediate” campaign) has you playing one of the main series antagonists, whose right hand minions include an oujosama who openly talks about how horny she is, a princess with hardcore stockholm syndrome (or is it?), and a semi incompetent little blue bird as a psychic familiar. A running gag is them chastising each other for using rude words. These characters have apparently been popular enough to reappear even in the modern titles, which largely are self-contained timelines of their own, with their own canonical tweaks.

Last point I want to touch on (this single game just has so much to it) is that playing this game out of order is interesting in how canon is referenced. In most self-contained-stories-in-greater-narratives, you’ll get somewhat forced exposition drops when a character is (re-)introduced. Most of these games so far tend to treat pre-existing characters on the same ground as OCs, where a character doesn’t say, for example “yo I’m goku I come from earth and I’m a super saiyan”, but kind of just realistically reacts to the scenario as per their characterization. If you learn more about them, it’s mostly via seeing them interact with other heroes or villains from their own canon (though later games include library bios to catch you up if you want). While this creates an interesting experience where, if you don’t know a series, you get that curious feeling of walking in on the middle of something, but instead from the beginning. The most interesting aspect of this, and what I consider the defining aspect of the game’s storytelling, is that the same delivery is used with the original characters. From the get-go, the original characters in SRW EX talk about other elements the way real people do, without vaguely audience-oriented exposition. Some people won’t like this, but it makes it feel much more real to me, and complements my recent exploration of the breadth of mecha, where I know a ton of names and have very little context, and slowly accumulate context as I go along. It’s a lot of little micro-mysteries. EX didn’t start this, either. SRW2, which is both the first SRW with a plot or even dialogue, introduces the main OC of SRW, Masaki and his Cybuster, who has a lot of his own lore, and tells almost none of it. You are left for the entirety of SRW2 to only grasp the fringes of what Masaki’s story is, and when he says “hey I’m actually leaving now in the middle of the game because I have my own plot bye” you just deal with that. SRW establishes that the world is way bigger than you, even though the core concept of the series is rooted in fanservice. Now, part of this is that Banpresto and Winkysoft probably had a big MCU-style plan from the beginning (cough most ambitious crossover in history cough), because, well, look at this release timeline and associated narrative chronology:

-Super Robot Wars (Game Boy, April 1991) No plot, or dialogue, but establishes the Big Three (Gundam, Getter, Mazinger) as playable characters and has the kaiju villain from an old 70s Getter+Mazinger crossover movie as the final boss. The pilots don’t exist, the robots are all apparently sentient beings. -The 2nd Super Robot Wars (NES, December 1991) Beginning of plot, introduces a proper antagonist (Bian Zoldak), an antagonist force he leads (Divine Crusaders), light political intrigue, Masaki Andoh and his nemesis Shu Shirakawa are established vaguely while having a separate plot that is not explained. IMAGINE juking your audience with your own main character like that. He doesn’t serve as protagonist yet but is clearly, like, the most important OC? Bian and Shu even serve as the final bosses and you don’t even know who Shu really is. The kaiju villain from before comes back for a single map and evolves into a stronger form unique to the game. The heroes from SRW1 also all acknowledge that SRW1 happened and they know each other. This establishes that you cannot rely on canon. -The 3rd Super Robot Wars (SNES, July 1993) Haven’t played yet but I hear this is where they really started playing with canon. Mixes the Divine Crusaders plot with the plot of the original Gundam series. Multiple endings exist now, and plot regularly splits into dual branches. -Super Robot Wars EX (SNES, March 1994) Here’s where it starts to get complicated. This focuses on Masaki’s setting, while continuing off of SRW3′s plot. Elements introduced here will continue to be referenced in SRW4 (the ending screen even explicitly states that, which reinforces my idea they planned this all years in advance). Multiple campaigns with malleable canon means nothing is concrete ever again. -The 4th Super Robot Wars (SNES, March 1995) Campaign now splits into Super Robot (Getter, Mazinger) and Real Robot (Gundam) routes, which is easier to handle. This game finishes up the “Classic” SRW timeline, but would also canonically be replaced by two remakes on the PS1 (SRW F (1997) and F Final (1998). However... -Super Robot Wars Gaiden: Masoukishin - The Elemental Lords (SNES, March 1996) Masaki gets his own game five years later, beginning his narrative. This game has no mecha IPs, and is exclusively OCs. The most complicated aspect is that this game is split into two chapters: the first, at the start of Masaki’s story, and the second, which... if I have this correct, follows after EX and SRW4. The previous games have, supposedly, been referencing this game that has not existed until now, and this game references what has come before. Playing SRW feels like being lost in linear time. This game starts off its own timeline of games that, I hope, stay confined to the OC-centric games.

So here’s the timeline:

First half of SRW Gaiden SRW2 (loosely referencing SRW1) SRW3 SRW EX SRW4 Second half of SRW Gaiden

As a result...I can never be comfortable writing a suggested order of play. In playing these games, you simply must accept that the world is bigger than you, and at all times you will be an outsider to some degree. You know, until you’ve played all of them. Which you can’t yet, because they aren’t all translated yet.

Phew! That’s a lot of words about Classic Timeline SRW, and I’ve only played through two games. Thanks for reading all of that, I hope it kept your interest. Despite how complicated that got, EX is a great game and easily in my top SNES RPGs now, up there with Live A Live and Dragon Quest V. Let’s move on for god sake!

Oh, right. Almost forgot: (SRW EX: Masaki’s Chapter: Beaten 2/9/19) (SRW EX: (One of the two versions of) Lune’s Chapter: Beaten 2/15/19) (SRW EX: Shu’s Chapter: Beaten 2/20/19)

Fun fact: In EX, if you use a cheat code on the title screen to play through Shu’s route with a suped-up absurd final boss-strength version of his mech, and run into one of the other protagonists, then when you later play as that other protagonist, you’ll have to fight the cheat version of that mech as a boss.

Orbital Paladin Melchior Y (PC): I had to play something else this month, and because I’m trapped in a fugue state, I made it something mecha related. Melchior Y is a small, hour-long visual novel/shoot em up made by John D. Moore, who I know mostly as a_new_duck from the selectbutton.net forums. I’m... not gonna have as many paragraphs to talk about this, or anything, as I did with SRW EX, so if he sees this I hope he doesn’t take that as a negative. Reportedly, this has multiple routes, though as of this writing I’ve only played one of those. I don’t know if that means multiple endings! I liked it for the small gamejam game it is, though. John is an academic and a mecha fan (and did his thesis on mecha, iirc) and so this is reasonably an introspective mecha story focused on children conscripted for space war purely for their utility, and adults who boss them around despite no longer being allowed to pilot once they hit the very beginnings of adulthood. It gets dark! A smaller positive about it is the matter-of-fact inclusion of queer identity, comfortably existing alongside religion without having to immediately make the plot about the conflict between those (at least in the route I played). I enjoyed it, and if you have the patience to explore artier games that aren’t polished AAA cash houses, you might gain something from it too. Here’s a link if you’re curious, it’s currently free.

Anime:

Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai: I already wrote about this last time, oops! Still, despite a couple stumbling points, this is fun character-driven supernatural lit, and if you’re mad at Persona games for bad political takes, then this... at least this doesn’t have those! The funniest thing about the series is that the bunny outfit is easily removable from the plot and barely relevant past the first couple episodes. (13 episodes, finished 2/5/19, Crunchyroll/Hulu)

Punch Line: I actually went in expecting something akin to the sort of wackiness I remember way back when FLCL was fresh. I didn’t get that, necessarily. What I did get was (as I would discover after I wiki’d it later) a fucking Kotaro Uchikoshi story. That’s not a bad thing, but if I had gone in knowing that, I would have been prepared. Uchikoshi writes light novels. Extremely convoluted, mysterious, non-linear light novels. As I was watching this show, I actually thought the whole time “is this a fucking light novel adaptation?” It wasn’t, but it was by the guy who wrote Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors (one of my favorite DS games), and Ever17: The Out of Infinity (probably one of the most miserable game experiences I’ve ever had), and I was easily identifying his particular brand of storytelling. There is a LOT that can be said about his style, but I’ll try to keep it short with a paraphrased example (don’t @ me if this doesn’t explicitly describe any one of his plots, it’s close enough). He likes to tell stories that start as quirky or high-concept, but somewhat mundane, skip a scene at one point, and then progress until you suddenly hit a big plot point that turns everything on its head and, in my experiences, causes things to immediately end tragically. Then you see the scene you missed. The scene held a plot point literally so important that it completely changes what the story was ever about. From then on you are fed a trickle of left-field plot twists until eventually the plot is unrecognizable from how it started. His work is as stupid as it is clever, and he’s got the strongest grasp of continuity I’ve ever seen a human being have. This is the polar opposite of SRW’s “fuck canon” philosophy, and that’s not for the worse on either account. Punch Line starts as a story about a boy who dies, becomes a ghost, and then has to figure out... something? (I should clarify I watched all of this overnight while not sleeping as as the story built more and more upon itself I had to fight to keep following it) BUT ALSO, if he sees panties twice, he’ll accidentally destroy the earth. Those details are, like, one percent of the secret plot that the show is built upon, and by the end when the wacky dorm sitcom has become a full blown world war with government conspiracies, I was like “wait why is that girl a superhero again?” Everybody deserves to experience an Uchikoshi story once, just for the wild novelty of it. I don’t think this is his best work (I think 999 is better), but it perfectly exemplifies his style.

Also, I spent the full binge watch (which I rarely do) thinking it was a visual novel adaptation. Absolutely convinced. But, it turns out that, no, he just writes like he’s making a VN game. The “panties = genocide” concept is so obviously a choose-your-own adventure mechanic that I thought it had to be. On the bright side, an actual VN adaptation later came out, and even came out in English on the PS4. And they added in apparently ten episodes’ worth of significant extra plot, so I might play that.

Also, it’s called Punch Line because in Japanese it sounds like “panty line.” That’s it. Also maybe it’s referencing plot twists, or mortality, idk. (12 eps, finished 2/6/19, Crunchyroll/Hulu/HIDIVE)

Mobile Suit Gundam II: Soldiers of Sorrow (Movie): A month later, I finally got around to the rest of Gundam 0079. I think I might like this movie best of the three, even if it does feature a lot of character death is kind of a downer at times (granted, that’s kind of most of Tomino’s work isn’t it). This movie is where most of Kai Shiden’s character development occurs, and it’s nice to see his go from a bastard to a sympathetic, uh, bastard. He’s terrible and my son. (Finished 2/9/19)

Mobile Suit Gundam III: Encounters in Space (Movie): You know I really like the original Gundam in concept, and even execution, but sometimes I’m chewing through it. Even when boiled down to the compilation episodes I’m just pushing through at times. I mean, I think part of that is my burnout and executive dysfunction issues preventing me from fully enjoying things, but it could also just be that I’m baby. This was the movie I liked the least, despite having some of the best moments in the series. The final showdown is genuinely incredible, and there’s probably a lot of essays out there discussing the recurring theme in Gundam of invoking the figure of Newtypes, while also regularly denying being one (even to oneself!) after engaging in a lot of telepathy. My problem with MSG3 is that they packed the most plot points into this one, and it gets to a point where it was hard for me to follow. Mirai goes through two separate love triangles, and a huge tactic (bordering on the severity of a war crime) happens and then is iterated on in such a small amount of time that I actually lost track of who had it and how I was supposed to feel about it. If I were to rewatch it, I might grasp it better. I spent this movie feeling like I should have just watched the 50 odd episodes instead, for the sake of comprehension. Idk! Hate to end this on a negative note, because this series has layered characterization, complex examinations of war, the things people do in war, and the ways that war changes people, and also cool robots. It’s probably something you can revisit multiple times and gain new value from each time. (2/15/19)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The 08th MS Team: Guess who watched this on Adult Swim a long time ago and almost totally forgot! This series is amazing and probably going to stay my favorite Gundam series. The animation is consistently beautiful and consistently had me comparing it stylistically to Cowboy Bebop, from the body language to the lavish mechanical displays to the character writing to the excellent english dub. The US got it ater it was complete, but the original airing of it was spread out over three and a half years, and given how flawless it is, I can understand why. If you’ve have a spot in your heart specifically for watching the switch axe change shape in Monster Hunter, you’re gonna lose it watching them do maintenance in this show. Character-wise, while 0079 was about watching whiny teens complain and break protocol on a regular basis, 08th MS Team is as much about living army life as it is about going on missions. There’s soldier superstition, there’s writing to girlfriends back home, there’s complaining about staking out in the desert for five days. I haven’t watched MASH, but the things I have heard about it make me link the two. 08th MS Team is also about a super unfortunate star-crossed love between people on opposite sides of the war. This plot element is a recurring one even back in 0079, but here it feels the most heart-wrenching, and with the very weighty and believable mech combat (it’s so pretty, good god), I was constantly worried about the well-being of all the characters, Fed and Zeon (except for Ginias). If you have any interest in anything, you have to watch this. I’m not good at selling things.

I watched all of this when Hulu was threatening to remove it, but now it appears to still be up? Uh, so go watch it I guess. Oh fuck, right, I almost forgot. The last episode of this is so bad they didn’t even air it on TV in the US. It’s tangentially related to the plot, claims to be about the main characters but instead centers on two side characters and like six new ones, has zero character development, has comparatively/definitively awful animation, relies entirely on misdirection towards the viewer to keep the plot barely hanging together, and has no satisfying payoff. Thankfully, it’s sort of an omake episode, and you can completely skip it. (12 eps (minus 1), finished 2/20/19, Hulu)

I can’t find a decent HQ poster so have this you filthy animal.

A Place Further Than The Universe: It’s not about robots! Wait. Is it about robo--it’s not about robots! I had heard about this show for a while, it was almost universally agreed upon by everyone that follows seasonal anime to be easily the best show of all of 2018. And wow they were not kidding around about that. APFTTU (oh god that acronym) is about four high school girls who decide to go to Antarctica. It is a feelgood comedy with occasional ventures into very real drama, and is rooted very realistically. The show is semi(?)-educational with the attention it gives to showing how real life expeditions work, while also liberally flowing into the poetry of the concept and experience of such a thing. The four girls are all hilarious and innocent without being cloying and, and this is the most important part, without being written with voyeuristic appeal. It is not off-base to have concern for the ways in which a significant number of female cast anime are written with intent to appeal to lonely men who want to feel a safe ownership of something innocent and attractive. It’s not all of them, but it’s a significant amount. Male gaze exists even in the lesbian shows, it’s something you sometimes have to roll with. Here, however, these girls are fully realized and believable, it is obvious that they are developing people, and that is treated as its own value, not as something to covet. If you’re lookin’ at thighs in here, that is your problem, and I’m calling God. A subplot that comes up involves a guy who gets a crush on one of the older women, and he tries to make it about his narrative and is immediately shot down by the whole cast, because this isn’t a vehicle for his romantic conquest. This isn’t anyone’s romantic conquest, really. It is significant to me to say, “this is an anime I could show to my mom and not be worried about.” I know I just said 08th MS Team was required watching for everyone, but A Place Further Than The Universe is required watching. (13 eps, finished 2/26/19, Crunchyroll)

Giant Gorg: At some point I picked this out to watch on CR without any prompting. Wait, I had one prompt. I knew nothing about this show except I think for seeing it on a short list of tumblr user @lightningclone’s favorite anime. It kind of floors me that this came out a year before Zeta Gundam and has way way better animation. Granted, Zeta has twice the episodes, which might be a big factor. The defining trait of this show is probably way it unravels itself, focusing for multiple episodes on exploring what of the great mystery of Austral Island and Gorg has been established to the audience, before revealing something more an deliberately taking it’s time as it takes you to the next reveal. The reveals don’t feel like twists, because a twist comes out of nowhere and sidelines you. The reveals here feel organic, and expected, but all the same compelling. Another good trait of the show is the characterization. Everyone fits into a very different role both in terms of personality and function, they all have their own motivations, and they all complement each other in unique ways. Also, this show has an Usopp. Back before Usopp was a thing. He’s Dr. Wave, and he’s the best character.

If I have any criticism for the show, it all comes at the end. Near the end a character does a heel turn that, while a little twisty, is hinted in the beginning of the show, and in his heel turn the writers go a bit overboard and have him commit some sexual violence that goes on for an intentionally uncomfortable amount of time, and features frontal nudity. I know we’re supposed to think “oh god he’s a horrible person actually,” but 1) the main character is a child, I kind of expected this to lean family friendly with the occasional dark element (ignoring all the hilarious New York graffiti at the start that says FUCK in several places because America), but... okay! And 2) the stakes rise to a point by the next episode that the characters, including the victim of that violence, all just shrug it off, like whatever! The character is even redeemed by the end, which I wouldn’t mind if the betrayal itself was less physical. It’s a bit much for me, and I wish they hadn’t done it. Aside from that, I feel like the ending itself is a bit anticlimactic, but everything up to these two points had been so solid that I still think it was worth the watch. Worth it if you like mystery, adventure, and big robots, but worth bearing in mind the trigger warning for near the end. (26 eps, finished 2/27/19, Crunchyroll)

Manga:

Shin Mazinger Zero Vols 1-3:

[Serious Content Warning For Everything]

Shin Mazinger Zero is reprehensible garbage and I hate it. While inspired by Go Nagai and intentionally over-the-top, the absurdity is juvenile, offensive, and often just empty. Now, it may seem hypocritical of me to complain about transgression in something based on Nagai’s works, but I genuinely don’t find this transgressive, just extremely self-indulgent of toxic masculine fantasies, both sexual and violent. It has interesting ideas, about how Mazinger is both a tool possible of great good or great evil (literally the mission statement in every Mazinger work), and it wants to explore alternate timelines to see how characters can be corrupted or overcome corruption. The visual of a demonic Mazinger is genuinely pretty rad.

...Okay maybe he’s not, he’s kind of overdesigned. I like the toothy grill, though.

The problem with that exploration of corruption is that sometimes a character is just a horrible monster for no reason, without much explanation (so far?) for how that comes to be. Maybe in volume 4 they’ll get more into that, since they are currently in flashback mode, so there’s no undoing the damage.

Anyway, female characters so far are hypersexualized and submissive or motherly, or hypersexualized and, like, totally unreasonable. The hot robot girl sat on my lap in her underwear and did sex moans, why are you mad, main love interest? Men are testosterone as FUCK. The hero is constantly yelling to the point of visual distortion, no matter how the drama of the scene is being portrayed. The old man villain Dr. Hell is, for some reason, jacked as hell, and in the backstory to the main timeline (it’s all post-apoc) he shows his superiority over everyone by crushing Not Obama’s balls in his grip. I know exactly the kind of dude that would find this appealing and that’s the kind of person I avoid.

Honestly I knew this series was going to be a trashfire from square one and just kept reading out of morbid curiosity. The story starts in media res at the end of the world, with sexy girl robot disintegrating the hero so his soul can go back in time and try the timeline again. Okay, sure, I’m on board. Immediately next we’re shown what I would assume is The One Timeline To Get It Right, after establishing that there have been thousands of timelines where the hero is corrupted by evil. Pretty normal storytelling. And then, uh, the hero’s grandfather molests and murders the hero’s girlfriend, because the hero might become evil. My face is in my hands at this point. The incomprehensible shame. The hero is then corrupted and goes on a killing spree and humanity’s caught in the crossfire and the world ends. After *that* we get the One Timeline. Why? Why say things have always been bad (and I guess imply that bad things are the default) and then waste my time with the worst shock value trash that comes after for a full volume before actually starting the story? It’s edgy garbage! Why is this an official Mazinger work? Stuff like this is what makes me stop and think “wait are all Nagai’s works like this and I’ve been lying to myself when I like it?” Christ, this turned into a rant. Moving on.

[Content Warning Over]

Dumbbell Nan-Kilo Moteru? Vol 1: Idk if talking about horny manga after that mental breakdown is gonna make me look weird but hear me out.

Hot girls lifting weights.

You still here? Okay, good. I started this on a mutual’s recommendation and while it’s not regularly engaging with my own things (I’m more of a “watching fit woman deadlift and hoping she drops it on me and I disintegrate like so many dead leaves” person), and with the two main girls being high schoolers, I try to avoid engaging with that in that way. Luckily, there’s a teacher my age with a bob cut, so we’re good! More interesting, though, this is in the same genre as that Skullface Bookseller Honda-san anime (though less biographical), where the author just wants to explain their job or hobby while also using likable comedy characters as the vehicle. Anime made edutainment work.

I’m starting to get tired and I wanna wrap this up but unfortunately I have a bit to talk about regarding the last manga I read in Feb.

Tokyo Ghoul Vols 10-12: I’ve been reading this for the past, uh. I read it a lot last year, I don’t know when I started, though. Around 8 books in I started slowing down and taking long breaks because phew! I’d hit the end of the series’ big bad story arc and was having trouble picking up from there. I’m glad I did, though, because the story is still getting good. Here’s hoping I can handle the sequel series, because Tokyo Ghoul itself only has two books to go.

I’ve talked about TG a few times before, maybe just on Twitter. It’s very intelligent “vampire” lit that ramps up the stakes of transition by saying “you can’t just suck their blood and let them go! Human meat is your food and you’ll suffer without it.” At first, I was like “oh wow lol this is edgy” but the last twelve books have talked about trauma, alienation, and most importantly loss of innocence. It’s also about the importance of the bonds between people. The main character is perpetually at odds with himself, trying to be a good person in spite of the fact that being a ghoul is literally and figuratively being a monster. It could easily be an overwrought story of self-indulgence and angst but everything in it has been careful and effective. Ghoul culture is thoroughly built up and balances concepts of territory and posture along with careful deception for the purpose of staying a part of, and hiding from, human culture. It’s about predators who cannot remove themselves from their predatory nature, even if they want to be people with families and educations. There’s an organization that wears white and hunts ghouls with weapons crafted from ghoul bodies and functionally I can’t fully argue with them, sort of, but hey we’re starting to discover that corporations are corrupt (who knew?) and that’ll be fun.

But forget the poetry and human condition, the best thing this series does is that unashamedly works the Hot Topic aesthetic. The main character likes reading books and wears an eyepatch to hide his heterochromia and works as a barista. He wears a mask that evokes an S&M lifestyle. Ghouls can only eat people and all other food taste rotten. Except for black coffee. There’s also a number of ghouls with black nails and eyeshadow, and very heavily coded queer male characters (some more flatteringly portrayed than others but that’s a whole other thing). If Sui Ishida never listened to Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, I’ll eat my fucking feet.

@sun-eater-official I think this might be up your alley. Or maybe not! But these aesthetics sound like you. Actually, you should probably watch 08th MS Team too, for the Bebop vibes.

So that’s everything! I thought I had a short list but apparently it was all things I had a lot to say about. Again, if you read all of this, thanks a lot, I hope I end up introducing you to a new favorite. In the future, I may have to split these into separate posts for each category. I have a lot of free time to write these lately. Writing two roundup posts back to back is a bit tiring, but I don’t have to do another until April starts.

#curry plays games #curry reads manga #curry watches anime

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queenslasharchive · 6 years

Note

Hey do you know any more joger or froger fanfics? I've read the ones you linked already and was wondering if you maybe know some muliti-chapter ones, though one-shots are great too

Hope these will last you for a while! =) FREDDIE/ROGER

“Good” Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by queenfreddiemercury [Teen | 5394]

Roger remembers some of the worst moments from Freddie’s most troubled relationships.

Star-Crossed Lovers* by varenoea [Mature]

Freddie mumbles sweet nothings into Roger’s mouth, all the love talk he has saved up over the years, and Roger’s fingers fumble their way to Freddie’s shirt buttons.

Half-baked by halocentury [Teen | 7765]

There were a couple of dirty dishes in the sink but the real eye-catcher were the trays and pan sitting upon the counter. In the pan was a shortbread creation that also smelled of nuts. On the trays were an assortment of cookies; one held square-shaped ginger cookies, the second some kind of cookie with cranberries, the third cinnamon cookies and the last sugar cookies. Finishing the line was a tin that held the crowning glory, almond bark in dark chocolate.

I Know I Can’t Be True by sandssavvy [Mature]

Freddie blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. He looked for the switch only to find, Roger standing directly in front of him. Roger, AKA one of the reasons Freddie’s relationship with Brian would have been almost perfect.

Comfort and Care by glamrockgirl71 [PG]

“Get well soon, baby”

The Contest by glossimer45 [Teen | 1545]

Freddie and Roger were locked in a deathmatch. And not even your typical, “Roger, over my dead body is “I’m In Love With My Car” backing my masterpiece” (that one had resulted in them glaring over every meal for two weeks, Freddie’s precious china “slipping” from countertops and ultimately, Roger locking himself in a cupboard for four hours until the frustrated singer had to relent, or risk having Roger’s impending asphyxiation on his conscience), or even worse, Roger’s casual remark that Freddie’s new haircut made him look like a weasel. That had earned him a smarting black eye and also served to impart the rest of the band with the knowledge that under no circumstances would Freddie Mercury’s name ever again be associated with nocturnal mammals, unless, of course, they desired a similar boxer-chic look.

Through the Wind and Rain by myfinefriend [PG]

Feeling the shoe make contact with a body, the singer set about the fiend (thief? rapist?), slapping it’s dark form until;“Ah, Fred! Fuck!”

Stay Here by guitar_chic39 [PG]

When Roger was sick he was just adorable

Carpet Burn by myfinefriend [Teen]

He had to keep it light and cheery, otherwise they would never leave him alone - it would be bad enough if the other two found out about his extra-curricular activities with the singer, but a nosy camera crew and the whole world?! No.“Taylor dies, more like!” He retorted, turning as the camera moved and his hands darted to his knees just in time, flashing them a smile and shuffling desperately towards a nearby chair.

God Knows by my_currency [PG]

His eyes were closed, and each of his eyelashes seemed to twinkle with the light of the sun that spilled through the window and onto his face. Angelic. That seems to be a fitting word.

Loosen Up My Buttons by wildonion [Teen | 1014]

“They left me,” Roger was saying to himself. “In my moment of need, they up and left me. Said, ‘Your problem now,’ and left me. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they fucking left me.”

Signs by laurak23 [Teen | 3666]

Roger gets creative when Freddie has mandatory voice rest.

When Best Friends Were So Little by laliquey [Mature | 1653]

It must have belonged to a previous tenant, and he hoped it might contain hash; in any case, it was the perfect bait to seduce Freddie into coming over. “I won’t open it till you’re here,” he promised over the phone, though the suspense made him want to peek so very much. He decided that resisting temptation would somehow weight karma in his favor and result in better contents. Like hash and jellybeans!

Anniversary by laliquey [PG | 421]

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t take it with you.”

Feel Warmed Up? by upsidedownpb [Teen]

“Since when was ‘Hey Jude’ a credible warm-up song?” asked Roger, startling Freddie into submission by appearing behind him in his makeshift dressing room.“Since they made it legal to barge in on the most important band member’s practise room,” snarled Freddie, dusting himself off and preening in front of the mirror.

In Focus by halocentury [Teen]

How could Freddie accuse him of not appreciating beauty? Roger Taylor did appreciate beauty. He appreciated the beauty of music. He appreciated the beauty of people. He appreciated the beauty of cars. He appreciated the beauty of life. He just didn’t appreciate art and that was where Freddie was disappointed with him.

Steam by september_morn [Mature | 3200]

As if sensing the slow slide into lust that my thoughts are taking, Roger half turns to look over his shoulder at me, and he smiles, and the half-lidded, long-lashed, ocean eyes spear me and… God, he is quite possibly the most gorgeous creature ever to walk the fucking Earth.

Closeted by september_morn [Explicit | 2200]

In which Roger Taylor discovers what happens when you poke the bear that is Freddie Mercury a little too hard…

Summer Nights by nonzerosum [Teen | 1054]

Freddie sat next to him and took the candle from his hand, setting it down on the coffee table in front of them. He took Roger’s hand, “You don’t find it romantic at all?”“Not really.” Roger answered, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms over his chest, “I find it annoying.”

(Lack of) Practise Makes Perfect by myfinefriend [Mature]

Roger Taylor had never been one to practise. He resented giving up time which could be otherwise more enjoyably spent drinking or partying and, in any case, preferred raw, joyful playing to regimented rehearsal. As a result of this, the blonde tended to leave such things to the very last minute, much to the frustration of his bandmates.

Four Words by myfinefriend [PG]

Panicked and embarrassed, he was sure love and lust had been written blatantly upon his face, the lead practically leapt from his seat.

A Moment Alone by briansgurl89 [Teen]

The moment they were alone, Roger pounced…

Dear Friends by sevenseasofroger [Teen | in progress]

roger loves john. he’s sure of that until his lover goes missing after a drunken pub fight, leaving roger to pick up the pieces. along the way, it’s not just his willpower that helps him find john - it’s the quirky charisma of a handsome mustachioed man which motivates and keeps him company along the way.

JOHN/ROGERSometimes by myfinefriend [PG | 188]

Sometimes, Roger cries at night.

Perhaps by myfinefriend [PG]

He knocked, not wishing to be so impolite as to use his key – after all, this wasn’t his home anymore.

Never Again by myfinefriend [G]

Words can’t change what has happened and they never will.“I’m sorry.”“I love you.”“It was a mistake.”

He Will Be Loved by myfinefriend [Teen | 847]

Not right? John was more than right, John was perfect – John was the answer. John had always been the answer.

Shutter by laliquey [Mature | 892]

“I’ll fuck ya,” he said with a charming crooked grin.“You would?”“Sure! What are friends for?” Right there at the bar, they practically mapped out a syllabus on paper, negotiating how it would work. It resulted in more drinks, going home, and Deaky gaining moderate proficiency in giving head.

Handkerchief by laliquey [Mature | 1775 + 1018]

He nursed his hurt feelings in private a while, then decided to do something about it. “I’m going to get Deaky out of his shell!” he announced one day. He started doing things with John – assorted strait-laced things accompanied by lots of getting him to talk and open up. Besides the deepening of a friendship, there was an unmistakable translocation of some of Freddie’s temperament.

Dirty Double Crosser by anewdaysjourney [Teen]

“Roger?”The voice startled him. He hadn’t expected his dinner companion quite yet; he was timing the arrival by how long it took him to finish the Marlboro, then three others.

Here Comes My Man by acacia59 [Mature | 4238]

John likes to watch. But now it’s time to do something.

I’d Just Die by acacia59 [Mature | 5296]

Who else can take all your blood and your curses? Nobody I’ve seen you hanging around.

#froger #joger #fic #recs #ask #need more joger fics #smut #fluff #angst

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afishtrap · 6 years

Text

mapping characters

The past few weeks, I’ve been (finally) going back and looking at the story I'd set aside for all of 2017. I knew whatever was broken lay in the opening chapters, so I started reading a bunch of advice on story structure, stakes, character goals, and whatnot.

What kept tripping me up wasn’t really that every character must have a goal (duh). It was that this goal should in some way be thematically tied to the final resolution, and the lie the character believes, the character’s normal world, don’t even get me started on the inciting incident, and what is my theme, anyway.

I’m not a plotter by nature, but neither am I really a pantser. Apparently there’s an in-between type called a polisher:

Unlike a pantser who gives over to the freedom to write whatever comes to mind or a plotter who decides it all ahead of time, a polisher will write a scene then analyze it. Is it good enough? Does it work with the previous scene(s)? How can it be made better? What needs adding or changing in previous chapters to facilitate this new revelation? Only when everything previously written is polished and perfect is this writer ready to move to the next scene.

Which is fine, except that when the opening chapters aren’t solid, it’s a story built on sand. The issue now is fixing that bad foundation, and that means nailing down the character arcs.

Some recommendations: K.M. Weiland’s site, with excellent deconstruction of structural elements into comprehensible pieces. Another: Take Off Your Pants! by Libbie Hawker. It’s a little (70-page) ebook, but her approach is simple and genius. And also: Lessons from the Screenplay’s Logan vs. Children of Men — The End is in the Beginning, and Just Write’s Avatar: The Last Airbender — How To Write A Compelling Backstory.

In case this helps anyone else, behind the cut is the process I’ve figured out, and a google sheet in case you want a jump-start.

The character arc spreadsheet’s first page goes in order of questions to ask, with a column for each character (up to eight, since that’s the number of POV characters I’ve got). I find the order confusing for long-term keeping, though, so the second sheet reorders it more logically, with additional rows for for digging into each character arc’s plot points. You should be able to re-save a copy of your own, or download it.

And now for the explanations of what goes into each row:

1. what the character goes by

Just the character name.

2. who is...

Enter a 4-8 word description of the character, at the start of the story.

eg: "youngest daughter of border family"

3 internal need

Ignore the title there, for now. Just ask yourself: when the story ends, what lesson does the character learn? What’s their moment of truth in the finale? That’s what the character needs (to learn) over the course of your story, ergo, it’s the character’s ‘internal need’.

Since I almost always have the finale set piece in my head from the beginning, this was easy: “no one is coming to save you, and you’ll have to fight even though the odds are bleak.”

4 major flaw

Now that you know what the character needs to learn, work backwards: what kind of person needs to learn this lesson? What significant flaw would be corrected by this lesson? (This has to be something the character can overcome; a character may struggle with being dyslexic, disabled, wrong skin tone, etc, but these are not flaws; they’re who the person is.)

I considered ‘passive’ but that makes for a boring character, until I realized the character’s real flaw is being sheltered. And since a certain invulnerability often results from being overprotected, I added unrealistically optimistic.

5 external want

This is the part that made my head explode, ‘cause I’d honestly never thought of it this way: given the character’s flaw, what’s the one thing, above anything else, that would satisfy them? What objective, if gained, would let them stay complacent, and never address this flaw? You want to find the hardest thing for the character to walk away from.

Since this character is sheltered, her greatest desire must relate to being protected. Okay, her parents are both deceased, hrm, but something’s going on that requires a family elder, so her goal is to track down her long-lost uncle and convince him to come home.

6 antagonist

This might be one character, or several, who want to either obstruct or compete with the character’s goal. If the character wants, say, a specific pony, the antagonist might be the person who refuses to sell the pony, or the antagonist is another buyer who also wants that specific pony.

Which means if the uncle doesn’t want to leave the city, then the character’s antagonist is her uncle. But since his superior also doesn’t want him to leave, she’s got two antagonists: uncle and superior.

7 who is...

Another 4-8 word description of the antagonist. Just a general idea. For multiple antagonists, I guess I could break this into 2-3 lines, but this is enough for now.

So I went with uncle-monk and head-monk.

8 who wants...

This just helps to clarify what the antagonist seek. It needs to be either the opposite of the character’s goal (won’t sell the pony), or the same goal (buy pony so you can’t).

If the antagonist is the uncle, that means his goal is stay in the city and keep being a monk. Note that his goal is not ‘refuse to go home’ -- that’s not a goal, that’s his response. His goal is why he makes that response.

9 ally

This is another of Hawker’s insights that I haven’t seen anywhere else, and it’s not in the classic sense of ‘the one who helps’ (although the ally may do that, too). The ‘ally’ is the one character with power to force the character onto the correct path and/or to recognize the truth.

Just as importantly, this could be anyone. It might be a frenemy providing a harsh wake-up call, or a consistently supportive friend -- but it can also be the antagonist, if their interaction makes the character realize what lies ahead if she doesn’t change.

I have another set piece just before the finale, where the character’s mentor gives her a pretty brutal wakeup call about what they’re facing. So that mentor is probably filling the ally role.

10 who is...

Another 4-8 word description of the ally, but since this character’s ally is also a POV character with her own arc, I’ll just copy-paste this to that character’s list when I get to her.

So for now, the ally is described as lady of the castle.

11 lie they believe

Take the flaw, and see it as a coping mechanism. Then ask: how does the character rationalize this flaw as necessary to survive in their world? That’s the character’s lie. That’s their core belief that’s going to get broken down over the course of the story.

I’m thinking the lie is probably going to be along the lines of it won’t be that bad or why worry, it’ll work out.

12 normal world

And another step backwards: the ‘normal world’ is the setup in Act 1, before the catalyst turns everything upside-down. The normal world reinforces the lie, so the character can keep rationalizing their coping mechanism, and remain complacent.

That means in my story, the normal world should reinforce that’s someone else’s concern, or maybe you’ll be okay as long as you have a protector.

13 wound

And another step backwards: the ‘wound’ is some past event that led to the character developing the lie and the coping mechanism. It could be negative or positive -- but something about it prompted the character to develop the lie and the flaw. I say ‘positive’ because ‘being loved and cherished as a child’ is good, but at the extremes, it’s stifling.

I first went with raised with strict limits, but later I came back and changed this to was unprepared for/overwhelmed by losing protective loved ones.

14 greatest fear

Now we’re into character elements that we’ll use to hammer the character over their arc. First is their biggest fear -- so for this step, think of what someone with this major flaw might fear the most.

A sheltered character would probably be the most afraid of not having anyone to turn to or not knowing whose advice to take.

Having these fear-variations means I can hit one note in one scene, and hit the other in the next scene. That way the hammering doesn’t feel too repetitive.

15 strength

Looking back up the list, there’s got to be some quality this character has that’ll make it possible for them to overcome their flaw and learn that lesson (the internal need). It doesn’t have to be the opposite of their flaw, either. It just needs to be something they demonstrate, that gives glimmers of what they’ve got that will help them grasp or accept the truth.

I’m going with tenacious and compassionate.

16 true self

When the story ends, the character’s lie is tossed aside, flaws acknowledged (if not fully resolved). What’s the character really like, now? Note that for sequels, this ‘true self’ becomes the foundation of the next story’s ‘major flaws’.

This character will end with self-reliant and outspoken. That way, in the sequel, she’ll start with flaws that distort her to an extreme: rigid and brash.

17 key incident

Aka, the second half of the catalyst. It’s tied thematically to the overall character arc -- but not obviously so, since most characters wouldn’t willingly put themselves on a collision course with their lie or flaws. The inciting incident creates the crisis, and the key incident is what appears to solve it. Together they form the catalyst that kicks everything off. My aha moment was thanks to Lessons from the Screenplay:

The best inciting incident is one that makes your hero think he has just overcome the crisis he has faced since the beginning of the story. In fact, due to the inciting event, the hero has just gotten into the worst trouble of his life.

Again keeping in mind the character’s flaw, lie, and goal, the key incident should present a solution that gets the character moving, and/or provokes them into identifying the goal listed in step #5. But at the same time, it should be a solution that appears to let their lie and flaw go unchallenged.

That means for my character, the key incident is friend must travel to the city but specifically that the friend offers to be protective escort.

18 inciting incident

The inciting incident is a short-term, concrete crisis, and the one place you can use coincidence to kick things off. It just needs to be a problem (lack of money possibly being the most common) that can be resolved via the key incident. Btw, you can do #17 and #18 in either order. I just find it easier to figure out the solution (key) and work backwards from there to identify a problem (inciting).

I’m going with landlord requires signature of eldest family member.

and lastly, stakes

That’s right, stakes aren’t called out ‘cause they should shift and grow across the course of the story. The preliminary stakes lie in the catalyst, though, and those stakes will carry to about the first plot point (where the antagonist or obstacle becomes clear).

External stakes should pile on all the way up to the finale, but I’ve come to see the internal stakes as lying in that conflict between the external want and the internal need. For the first half of the story, the character’s internal stakes revolve around holding onto their lie, and acting in accord with that. But every time they do, the story should hammer them with some element of their greatest fear coming true.

The midpoint drives home how unprepared they are (thanks to their lie), and it locks them in so there’s no going back. Then comes the ‘dark night’ where they realize the final thing holding them back is the lie they’ve believed; this is when their internal stakes shift from ‘stay who I was’ to ‘become the person I really am’.

multiple protagonists

Although the spreadsheet is set up to do multiple protagonists, the steps here don’t really go into how each protagonist will impact the other. You do want to bring their threads to a unified conclusion at some point (usually the finale), but if you merge two sooner than that, then you might want to do a new arc for each character starting from that point.

Frex, two characters come to the city (to get jobs), meet, both fail (not hired), but now they’re stuck (no money for train home) -- so they might concoct a new goal between them (rob a bank), and set about on that. In that case, you’d treat that first arc as Act 1, and launch them into a life of crime at Act 2.

Hopefully some of you will find all of this useful. Happy arcing!

#writing #writing tools #story structure

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