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black-rose-writings · 3 years

Text

I read Ruin and Rising because I’m bored

And I also hate myself

Like with the last book, I have a vague idea of the plot and stuff from tumblr and fanfics. I will also be refering to Darkling as Sasha for most of this.

I am still Darklina trash and don’t particularly like Mal.

On a different note, I’ve finally moved for college, but the internet here is trash, so I’ll probably have a lot more reading time now, since most games I play are online and will crash without internet.

Before

Cool story. Let’s hope Alina stays a badass.

Who am I joking, I know how this ends.

Chapter 1

So far so good. I hate the Apparat, per usual. Alina’s there basically dying and that bitch can’t wait to see her do so.

Cult leader to the core this one. He probably hates that his figurehead is alive and also not brainwashed.

Cult leader doesn’t like swearing. How surprising.

My boy David is completely right. What kind of irresponsible dingus keeps centuries old books in a fucking wet-ass cave? (Or a tree for that matter *cough cough* The Last Jedi *cough, cough*).

Genya is fun to be around.

Oh, shit, let’s go.

Chapter 2

Jesus Christ, Alina, Zoya isn’t that bad.

This is one hell of a shitshow.

I live for this version of Alina. Badass. Scary. I want more of this Alina.

Chapter 3

Out of all the random little details from crappy smut fics, I did not expect Oncat to be from the books, lol.

Mal actually has a supernatural tracking ability. Like, literally, they put a bug into the pouch with gunpowder so he could make the shot. I guess this was kinda said before, but never this directly, right?

Alina’s merzost-skyping Sasha now, yay.

Alina is horny for Sasha boy. Yay.

Alina canonically has a praise kink. Nice.

I hate LB with all of my heart at this very moment. How dare she bait us Darklina people like this? How DARE she? (Shipbaiting is the worst, seriously.)

Yes, yes, yes. These two lines. That’s what their relationship is all about. They’re each others foils, the yin to the other’s yang and... ugh. I am Darklina trash to the core and this hurts.

Darklina: You have a terrible taste in men.

Alina: I liked you once.

My boy Sasha walked into that one.

Chapter 4

Alina is a Queen. And we love her.

David, my beloved, my spirit animal.

It’s surprising they can read it at all, given it’s been centuries. Have you ever tried reading medieval manuscripts?

Honestly, with a father that crazy, it’s no wonder Baghra’s a bitch. And I’ve seen it said somewhere that the books imply Ilya’s experiments are what caused Baghra to be a shadow summoner and you know what? I can see how you’d make that connection.

Why is there so few Tidemakers in the books? Waterbenders are useful. I want more waterbenders.

Alina picking up some habits from Baghra I see.

Ah, yes, we love an educated giant.

I’m starting to think Harshaw is a bit nuts.

Shut up, Hershey. Or at least share the weed with the class. I’m not here for this “He’s mean to you because he likes you”. I might believe that in like, elementary school, but yall are (more or less) adults. Jesus.

Well, that was a bombshell of a twist.

Chapter 5

Oh boy, we’ve got some trauma bonding for out merry band of misfits. Yay.

Adrik has a crush on Zoya. And she hates it, lol. Cut the kid some slack, he’s like 15 or something.

That reminds me, I have a four-leaf clover pressed in books from close to year and a half ago. Time flies.

They’re really diving into the Mal has supernatural powers, huh?

Ghosts, let’s go.

Alina “I’m so happy to be outside I start to shine like a fucking fairy” Starkov and Mal is entranced. He’s definitelly nicer now. I’m not forgiving him for all the shit he’s pulled before and for using the silent treatment way too much, but hey, at least he’s improving.

I am not a Zoyalina person, but like... gay? Please? Rivals to grudging allies to friends to lovers, 300k slowburn? Sounds more fun than whatever Mala dn Alina have going on, lol.

(I’m starting to realize I’m not as much a Darklina person as I am anti-Malina person, lol. Like, literally everyone has a more interesting dynamic with Alina than tracker boy over there. Malina is at best boring AF and at worst toxic, codependent and emotionally abusive, while also being boring AF at the same time. It has literally nothing going for it except God herself liking it).

I can see why Nadia is gay in the show. The book version of her definitelly has a crush on Tamar. Homegirl likes a woman, who can murder her with the flick of her wrist and honestly? Same.

Alina has some big “coming out of lockdown after a year” energy atm.

The cat is one of the most realistic characters in this thing, lol.

And since Tamar is also heavily queercoded, our lovely ladies make off into the night, flirting. Or maybe not. Let me dream, though.

At least Blade Boy is aware that his tattoo is stupid. To quote someone ranting about him on tumblr: He’s embracing his identity as a tool.

Oh, boy, this will be fun.

Evil soldier is horny for Mal. Saints, is there a woman in this book who isn’t horny for Blade Boy?

And here comes Niki to save the day.

Chapter 6

Niki saved the day.

Fiberglass? And David being David. Genya being in love with her nerd of a boyfriend.

Jesus Christ, this one crazy kid has moved the technology in this universe a whole century on his own. So, when is David going to propose to him?

Baghra hasn’t changed much I see.

Baghra’s about to drop some truthbombs, but no, we have to be rudely interupted because Genya’s rapist is throwing a fit.

Chapter 7

How does Mal sound? Is she gonna say the Blade boy sounds like her dad? I mean, I know voices are partially genetic, but it has been tens of generations between them, probably.

So, we’re finally taking Genya’s trauma seriously after all this time? Good. Better late than never, I guess.

I wish that regicide was already finished and I’m pretty sure that Genya does, too. Stop defending the fucking king, narrative.

David’s a nerd in all things I see.

Someone please just kill the king already. And the queen, too, for good measure.

Now that’s a romance.

Infodumping and listening to said infodumps is a legitimate love language, Alina. Let them nerd out over poisons.

Wait, has Alina never directly killed anyone before? I thought she did... hmmm.

And just like that, it should have been over. Ugh.

Somehow, Baghra is a better teacher now than she was before. She half feels like a completely different character.

Nevermind, she’s back at it.

Chapter 8

Holy shit, Nadia and Tamar are canon. They have canon gays here.

So, which one of them is gonna die?

Chapter 9

We arrive at that scene. The one, where they should have fucked.

Jeez, girl, get a hold of yourself. Life is short, fuck a villain.

In other news, Genya and David definitelly fucked.

Chapter 10

Poor David. He just wanted to know.

Damn... I never realized just how young Baghra was, when she killed her sister.

I’ve already made a post about this, but it really does strike me like Baghra has already decided to end her life at this point in the book.

Why is that whole “but what if we’re related” thing even in there?

Chapter 11

We love a suprise attack.

When did Sasha boy learn that trick?

Baghra really just did that. Oh boy.

Chapter 12

No, don’t kill the kid... ugh.

Emotiona support cat. She should be friends with Milo.

Porrige for brains. Oof.

So Nadia was the one, who got bees set on her in the book. Cool.

That’s a good question. Why was it never brought up to Alina, that other Grisha get blocks, too?

David already thinking of steampunk prosthetic for Adrik is honestly kinda sweet.

Chapter 13

Back home... kinda.

Is that really... you really care about Mal bonking the Grisha school mean girl over a year ago? Okay.

Chapter 14

Angst! Yay!

And more angst.

Chapter 15

Sasha really went “My mom killed herself to save you? Well, I’ll kill the closest thing to parents you have.”

Chapter 16

Nikolai’s alive. Kinda.

And these two have such a sibling energy, I can’t.

And then they fuck. Ew.

Chapter 17

Wait, wait wait... so Alina isn’t even the one to destroy the Fold?

Okay. That’s... weird.

Holy shit. That was...

So, Aleksander is dead. Mal isn’t. Someone else destroyed the Fold for Alina and now she has no powers.

Okay.

That’s a weird-ass ending.

Chapter 18

The gays survived, so that’s nice.

Genya made good on her promise of making Alina a ginger, lol.

After

What emotion is this supposed to give me? Cause all I feel is kinda sad.

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #ruin and rising #book review #alina starkov #darkling #darklina

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tossawary · 3 years

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Chapter 27: “The First Day” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Right now, deep into the safety of darkness, Shang Qinghua thinks about how he never actually expected to be lying in his bed with Mobei-Jun. No, there’s a reason his sofa is comfortable enough to sleep on! That was by design too! Sure, Shang Qinghua had lots and lots of bed-related fantasies, but he had no expectations of those fantasies ever coming true. He didn’t dare to have expectations.

It’s kind of weird, lying in bed with Mobei-Jun. It’s definitely weird lying in his bed partially on top of Mobei-Jun. With the way things were headed, Shang Qinghua was admittedly fostering some hopes about those bed-related fantasies, but he still didn’t think to mentally prepare himself for the practical details. He really wasn’t mentally prepared for the softness of Mobei-Jun’s hair, for the thickness and the weight of the man’s arms, or for the coolness of his skin against the warmth of the blankets.

Fuck, now there is no way that Shang Qinghua is going to be able to see Mobei-Jun with a plunging neckline without thinking about touching the man’s bare chest. It’s a nice chest! It feels great underneath Shang Qinghua’s hands now.

He can feel a steady heartbeat beneath his fingers.

He can feel the gentle rise and fall of it with the man’s slow breaths, as the man’s eyes have fallen comfortably closed.

Shang Qinghua has never seen Mobei-Jun this relaxed.

AN: Moshang in bed together is very good. I loved writing Moshang cuddles. I think it’s really nice when they’re allowed to be soft and relaxed, and everything is understood between them. Mobei-Jun at this point has learned to treat Shang Qinghua like a particularly anxious cat sometimes - if he just stays still and relaxed, eventually Shang Qinghua will calm down and chill with him.

Shout out to Mobei-Jun and all those years he spent trying to get some hint as to how human social everything worked, only to get nearly no help from Shang Qinghua. In this fic, part of the idea is that Shang Qinghua has been a slightly better communicator. Mobei-Jun can be a good listener when he doesn’t feel hideously embarrassed over his fuck-ups.

“I had made plans to speak with you at some point about… this,” Mobei-Jun agrees. “But that was not why I had come to see you that day.”

“Ah, what… what was it, then?”

Mobei-Jun sighs. “I had come from a gathering of demon lords, hosted by my father at their request. They have loosely agreed to each contribute to an attack on the next conference of human cultivators,” he explains, apparently annoyed at just having to recollect this event. “My uncle encourages my father to force my involvement. He must have trouble planned… or see an opportunity for it.”

Shang Qinghua processes this, then sits bolt upright in bed. “What?!”

Mobei-Jun frowns up at him.

“There’s a demonic alliance to attack the next Immortal Alliance Conference?!” Shang Qinghua demands, leaning over the demon lord beside him.

“Yes.”

“And you waited to tell me this?!”

“There are years left before this event,” Mobei-Jun points out.

Shang Qinghua stares at him.

Sure! But he feels like he should start planning now! He already knew that there was going to be a demon attack of some kind - the seal on Luo Binghe’s powers has to be broken - but demon lords getting involved is bad news! Multiple demon lords who are important enough to be socializing with Mobei-Jun’s father is worse news! Demon lords potentially including Mobei-Jun’s shitty father and shitty uncle is the worst news of all!

“You should warn your people,” Mobei-Jun says, dryly.

AN: Mobei-Jun doesn’t care about the sects, but he cares that Shang Qinghua cares. Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua really are villainous in SVSSS. Shang Qinghua just so happens to sometimes be on the protagonist’s (Shen Yuan’s) side and Shen Yuan has romanced a budding tyrant who has MBJ as a loyal minion. But, oof, I didn’t want to go that route with this fic.

I mean, I considered it! I considered having Shang Qinghua be forced to bring a demon invasion down on the sect he’s come to care about and his own nephew, but that felt a little too angsty for me. It totally could have been good, I was just like, “I can’t handle that.” Plus, with the world update, it felt fitting to jazz things up a little bit - to up the ante by inviting more demon lords and also have a little role reversal by letting Mobei-Jun be the spy. This way, I think, it really feels like Mobei-Jun is on Shang Qinghua’s side.

Shang Qinghua isn’t on the demons’ side. Mobei-Jun isn’t really on the humans’ side. But they are on each other’s side. They’re a team!

Again, what’s more romantic than your demon boyfriend actually doing the work of growth on his own? Moshang can be a little rough and with a lot of sharp edges (on both sides, they’re both kind of mean people) sometimes, so it’s sometimes nice to remember that they can support each other too.

Also, I’ve always been kind of curious about what Mobei-Jun’s family thinks of his relationship with a human. Mobei-Jun’s father is still alive throughout SVSSS, so it’s fun to think about ice demon politics, power and influence and loyalty in that court, and whether that factored at all into Mobei-Jun’s extremely slow-moving courting timeline of a human.

The person at the door knocks a third time, and Shang Qinghua feels the person beside him stir. He can feel a not insignificant amount of weight shifting, a low and unhappy grumble, and cool skin brushing against his own as that person makes to get up. Possibly to handle the person at the door? Shang Qinghua here abruptly remembers many important details about his current situation that make the sect potentially being on fire seem like a not-so-bad emergency.

“Demon invasion,” Shang Qinghua finds himself thinking. “Mobei-Jun. Fuck.”

“No, no, no! Don’t get up! I’ll get it!” Shang Qinghua cries, throwing off tangled blankets and flying out of bed. “I’ll handle it, my king! Sorry! Ahhh, sorry! I’ll take care of it, you can just stay where you are-”

Shang Qinghua, now on his feet, pushes firmly down against Mobei-Jun’s chest. He’s not expecting the man - a very, very strong and very, very stubborn demon lord - to go back down under his hand without any resistance at all. This easy obedience, this willingly being pushed down, leads to a surprised Shang Qinghua overbalancing and catching himself hard on Mobei-Jun’s chest and shoulders.

As though Shang Qinghua is actually pinning the man down.

Mobei-Jun stares up at him, eyes low-lidded, and raises his eyebrows.

Ah.

Wow.

Shang Qinghua is going to… well, he’s going to think about this for the rest of his life, probably.

AN: Mobei-Jun is so self-conscious in SVSSS that it’s kind of hilarious. So it’s fun to let him be a little more confident (rather than arrogant and lashing out defensively). Mobei-Jun probably thought to himself here, “You know what’ll be funny here? If I just go down now.” I feel it in my heart that Mobei-Jun is a teaser, especially when he’s relaxed and happy.

Shang Qinghua takes the time to fix up his appearance a little more - to get rid of the “I slept with a demon” smell - because if the asshole at his door has kept it up this long, they can wait a little longer. It turns out that he didn’t really need to bother, because it’s his fellow transmigrator and most dogged critic, Peerless Cucumber.

“Bro,” Shang Qinghua says seriously. “Do you have a deathwish?”

Peerless Cucumber - Shen Yuan, Shang Qinghua has to remember to call the kid by his real name - lowers his hand with a scowl. “...One of your disciples told me to knock on your door and keep knocking until you answered,” the other transmigrator says defensively. “After I said you said to meet you in the morning.”

“...Which one?”

“Wen Shufen, I think?”

“Ah, just for that prank, Sticky Fingers is going to be hauling fertilizer for Long Sheng Peak for a month,” Shang Qinghua says tiredly. “Bro, do not believe half the things your martial siblings here tell you. They’re pretty much all liars, cheats, and thieves.”

“Then why keep them around?”

“Ah, well, sometimes you need someone to lie, cheat, or steal.”

“...It’s nearly not morning anymore, you know.”

“Eh, I guess you get a pass this time, since I did tell you we’d have a nice long talk about things tomorrow morning. Come on in.”

AN: I don’t know if this vibe is coming across, but Shen Yuan feels a little ignored and neglected. They just got back from a mission and Shen Yuan has already been shooed off like twice. Shang Qinghua is so busy. Shang Qinghua is so experienced and so established here. Shen Yuan has latched onto SQH as his lifeline, though he’s trying very, very hard to be independent, and yet Shang Qinghua kind of has SY on the back burner most of the time.

Not only is Shang Qinghua the author of this world, but he’s also an important figure in this world. Shang Qinghua really lives here and if the plot wasn’t looming over them, SQH would be very happy here. This place feels 100% like Shang Qinghua’s | Airplane’s world and brand new transmigrator Shen Yuan feels like an unwanted intruder. SY is still lonely and scared.

“...Are you going to try to activate it now?” Shen Yuan asks.

“Hmmm… no, not right now,” Shang Qinghua decides, standing up off the dusty stool he was sitting on. “Cucumber, bro, I’m just not awake enough for tackling anything serious right now. Let me get a few texts and tools together first to test this thing properly, alright? Some safety equipment! Aprons and face shields! Thick, fireproof gloves! I’m still trying to figure out how to safely ask Duan Tianyu what he knows about this map the System apparently made him send me, when he might not even know what the fuck I’m talking about! Maybe he can give us some hints.”

“Who?”

“One of my Huan Hua not-disciples,” Shang Qinghua answers. “I picked up some extras a few deadly missions back. They’re good kids. All grown up now! Less naïve than they used to be! Duan Tianyu is teaching back at Huan Hua Palace now, so maybe I’ll have to be the one to wander over there on some pretense.”

Shen Yuan agrees that getting as much information as possible is probably the better course of action. Shang Qinghua ushers the kid out of his secret basement and his fellow transmigrator goes easily enough. Shang Qinghua complains about his shitty, no-good System on the way up for forcing them to do all the work by themselves.

“It must think everything is more ‘authentic’ if I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” Shang Qinghua suggests, removing his spiritual seal and causing the door to the secret basement to vanish. “Ah, I’ll admit that’s kind of cool to watch.”

AN: Throughout this conversation, SY is kind of reaching out, giving himself or Airplane excuses to let him stay. It’s not that he doesn’t want to cultivate, but SQH represents a sort of safety and familiarity SY doesn’t have right now.

In SVSSS, Airplane was always pretty direct with Shen Yuan, from what I remember, but he wasn’t necessarily open. He was direct about some potentially vulnerable or personal topics, like Luo Binghe’s insanity or his own general fear of his character’s planned death, but that’s not the same as actually being vulnerable. They snap at each other, they’re pretty direct about their personal goals, but they don’t actually get vulnerable with each other by confessing their personal fears and new relationship developments.

So I’ve tried to adopt that here, while making Shang Qinghua a little kinder and slightly more vulnerable, thanks to the efforts of Luo Jiahui. But Shang Qinghua still isn’t necessarily open here and neither is Shen Yuan. He’s just like, “Hey, it’s shit and I don’t like it either, but what can you do?” He’s not actually seriously talking about his breakdown or just how scared he is of his own plot.

For some people, there’s a certain kind of openness in confessing things to a stranger, so it’s kind of like that too. Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan have fallen into kind of familiar dynamics, because there’s nothing else to really do, and they are kind of acquaintances, but they’re still not friends yet.

I think I want to have SY and SQH actually address this soon. SY feels that SQH has been kind of dropping the ball when it comes to honestly helping his fellow transmigrator, though SY, being SY, can’t quite put his finger on the lack of emotional intimacy and affection that he’s starved for right now.

The day-in-day-out of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect can’t get him down today! He feels kind of like he’s walking on air! Sure, the work never stops and there are some fucking terrifying things ahead, but he just had a very successful mission overall! He just had a really, really successful conversation with Mobei-Jun! He and Mobei-Jun are romantically entwined and Mobei-Jun was very explicit about the fact that he expects them to be romantically entwined… pretty much indefinitely!

“There is no one else,” Mobei-Jun had said. “There will be no one else.”

Shang Qinghua fostered a lot of hopes over the years! More hopes than he felt that he should have reasonably fostered! And to have those hopes unexpectedly fulfilled like this is… really something! It’s really, really something! Mobei-Jun really isn’t the type of character to say that - to say any of the things he said, and wow, he said a lot of things back there - without meaning it completely.

Shang Qinghua doesn’t really know what to do with that.

Forever is a long time.

He understands, of course, that some things really do last an impossibly long time. He used to be pretty certain that all love matches faded eventually - that people were genuinely wildly in love… that people were sincerely in love with each other, sure… up until they inevitably weren’t anymore - but now he can’t really imagine Liu Qingge or Luo Jiahui ever getting tired of each other. Liu Qingge keeps bringing Luo Jiahui new recipes to try and rare ingredients to interest her, so she can make dishes for the two of them or her family as a whole, and Shang Qinghua can easily imagine the two of them doing that pretty much indefinitely.

Shang Qinghua can’t think about this for long, before he has to focus on greeting his disciples (it’s just Peng Hongpeng and Chen Xuan in here at the moment) and getting to work. “Good things last while they last!” he decides for now, because thinking about things not lasting kind of makes him feel like he’s dying.

AN: Shang Qinghua can’t quite bring himself to believe in a relationship lasting forever right now. Part of it is his commitment issues, but another part of it is his persisting inability to see past the looming plot. He’s still worried about Luo Binghe and the Eternal Abyss, so he’s having difficulty seeing past that hurdle, even though things like Luo Jiahui’s marriage and his new relationship with Mobei-Jun are forcing him to confront the fact that there’s still a life outside of and beyond the plot.

For Shang Qinghua, it’s kind of a “I’ll think about that later if we all survive” thing when it comes to him and Mobei-Jun.

“He made a mistake with good intentions and got a small injury for it,” Shang Qinghua says, as reassuringly as he can. “He’s fine! He’s in trouble with his shizun for it, though, but I’ll see what I can do about bringing you up to meet him or bringing him down here as soon as possible. I’ll do my best to make it happen!”

Luo Jiahui leans into Shang Qinghua’s side and admits, “I miss him.”

“He misses you.”

“I miss you too,” Luo Jiahui adds.

“...Ah, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” his sister-in-law says warmly. “I’d miss you even if you visited every day.”

Shang Qinghua is holding her hands, but it feels like she’s got an extra one wrapped around his heart. “Where’s that husband of yours? Doesn’t he come down the mountain every day? Should I be telling him off? Sorry I ran off with him for a little bit!”

“What does Qingge have to do with you and me?” Luo Jiahui demands. “It doesn’t matter how often I see everyone else, I still miss you and Binghe the most.”

“Hm, that’s a point! That’s a point.”

What else can Shang Qinghua do but admit that he misses her the most too?

AN: It was fun to follow up Shang Qinghua’s romantic developments with a return to his most important and longest relationship: the one he has with his “fake” sister. Luo Jiahui is and always will be important to Shang Qinghua and who he’s become. They have such a lovely relaxed feeling that’s nice to revisit. I’ve missed Luo Jiahui these past few chapters, as things get twisted up more and more in sect business.

It would feel dishonest to the rest of the fic if Shang Qinghua’s other relationships disappeared in favor of his new romantic relationship. They all have their own importance. Mobei-Jun and Liu Qingge don’t make Shang Qinghua and Luo Jiahui any less important to each other.

I am looking forward to making Mobei-Jun and Luo Jiahui meet again, and tackling some of Mobei-Jun’s thoughts on Shang Qinghua’s relationship with his family. Mobei-Jun has a really shitty family, so it’s interesting thinking about what family means to him and how loyalty/love plays into it.

While he's busy plotting around the plot, there’s a hum of power behind him, the cool whoosh and crackle of a portal opening, the faint hair-rising warning of demonic energy. Shang Qinghua finishes tapping at his own face in thought, looks up at the looming shadow standing behind him, and smiles. He kind of feels like he should run away, but it's too late for that now. He held on long enough that he made it too late for himself.

“Hello,” he says.

AN: I took this almost exactly from the first chapter of Part 3 of this fic. I can’t remember the chapter number, but it was the one titled “The Inevitable Plot”.

Parts 3 and 4 of this fic blend together a little. Part 3 of this fic kind of ends here, but I have a couple more chapters that I want to tackle before I feel that I can say we’re for sure in Part 4? I have some things I want to accomplish before we go into a slight time skip towards the Immortal Alliance Conference.

#tossawary commentary #tossawary svsss #pride is not the word

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aevapollo · 3 years

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As I Am

My entry for the @trans-mages exchange week, my gift for @wellbelesbian. I hope you enjoy it!

My prompt was: Non-binary Baz, perhaps experimenting with pronouns and presentation and feeling affirmed by Simon and his friends.

(The title is from this quote from Carry On: "I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to carry on. As I am." -Baz)

Read it on AO3 or continue here!

Baz

Simon looks peaceful, looking up at the sun like that. Blissfully unaware of my fidgeting hands. I think about what he said just now--what he said about the vampire hotel, how happy and natural I seemed. The worst part is, he’s not wrong. Obviously, I didn’t want to stay there. That would’ve been a nightmare. But there was something about that night… I think it made me see myself in a way I never had before. That night, I got to be the gayest, sparkliest vampire there ever was. I got to be the most me I’ve ever been, and I liked it. Shit, I loved it.

I dunno. I’ve always been something less-than-masculine, much to my father’s chagrin. All those times I let my hair get just a little too long, whenever I wore a shirt that was just a bit too silky… he always had some carefully selected words. I never cared much for what he said about me. My goal back then was to push the limits of what he’d allow, but… maybe now that I’m with Simon, things will be different. Maybe I can finally be an adult about it and communicate. I could make up for all those years of repressed emotions.

Here goes nothing.

“Hey, Simon?”

“Hmmm?” He turns his head back to me but barely opens his eyes.

“ I-I need to tell you about something. And I don’t want to make you more stressed than you already are, or-or anything like that. So don’t feel like you need to understand me or act differently around me or feel--”

“--Baz, are you okay?” Simon cuts me off. He’d opened his eyes now, and seemed concerned.

I take a shaky breath. “Listen, I- I’m- I don’t really know if I’m totally… a guy. Like, I don’t think I want to be a girl, but what if I’m… neither? What if I’m non-binary, or something… like… that?” It all comes out in one big waterfall of words. Crowley, I hate feeling so out of control like this.

Simon’s brow is knotted. He’s thinking. “Alright, so non-binary… do you want to use different pronouns? And I shouldn’t call you ‘boyfriend’ anymore, right?”

“I...yeah. Yeah, exactly. I have wanted to try out they/them pronouns, if you don’t mind…”

“Of course I don’t mind. Baz, I-- you know I’d love you no matter what, right? I won’t stop just because you’re not a boy. Christ, I still don’t know if I’m gay or what, but I know I love you.”

He loves me. He said he loves me, that’s the first time he’s actually said it. The tears are coming. For once I don’t try to stop them or even hide my face. Simon pulls me into a hug, and I just melt into his arms. Somehow, nothing is wrong anymore now that I’m here.

***

I knew I would tell Simon first, and maybe I should leave it at that, but I just want to get this off my chest as soon as possible. After a while of being disgustingly vulnerable with him, I make my way back up to the house and onto the balcony. Shepard is here, too. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

Deep breath. “Hey. Um. Can I say something? I’m fairly sure I’m non-binary, and I’d like to try out they/them pronouns for a bit.” The words are coming out much easier the second time around.

Bunce’s eyes light up. “You are?! Oh, I’m so glad you told me! Wait, wait, I think I just saw an article about this the other day… some American celebrity who came out as non-binary? Hang on, I can find it real quick--”

“--That’s fine, but I appreciate it. Really,” I can’t help smiling at her excitement. Somehow this whole “coming out” thing has sapped me of all my sarcasm.

“Cool. I know some non-binary folks. Have you got a new name, or are you still going by Baz?”

“I’m still Baz, thanks.” Shepard hardly looks surprised, and I can’t say I blame him. I haven’t exactly been trying to act straight since we’ve known each other.

Just then, Wellbelove slides the balcony door open, looking anxious. I prepare myself to give the speech again, but she speaks first. “Hey, Baz, I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to know anything yet but I… Well, I heard everything. The doors aren’t exactly soundproof. Still, I’m happy for you.” She manages a nervous smile.

“No, no, it’s alright. Makes things that much easier on me.” Everything happened so quickly. I’m not sure how I feel about Wellbelove finding out, but it was bound to happen eventually. I guess it’s good that she knows now, even if we’re not exactly close friends. Maybe that’s another thing I should work on, now that I’ve decided to be an adult. I could leave all these weird grudges in the past.

***

Later, Simon comes back inside and we all eat dinner in relative silence. It’s less like a family meal and more like the casual school dining halls we’re all accustomed to (except for Shepard, I suppose. Or maybe he had something similar). Wellbelove has been looking at me weirdly since she found out. I know she said she was happy for me, but I can’t help but worry about what she really thinks. I try to focus on Shepard spilling barbeque sauce everywhere.

Simon leans over to me. “Hey, Baz, I was wondering… does this mean you would want to wear different clothes? Or, like, makeup or something?”

I had expected questions like this. “Well, yeah, I have wanted to try wearing a skirt. Just to see if I like it, I mean.”

To my surprise, Wellbelove speaks up again. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps she’s also attempting to mend our strange relationship.

“I’ve got some skirts that you could try on. If you want to, that is. I… don’t wear them much, anyway.”

“I--yeah, that would be really nice. You’re sure?”

She nods and stands up. I hesitantly follow her into an (unnecessarily posh, even by my standards) bedroom and can barely take in the surroundings before she shoves an armful of skirt in my face.

I crane my neck over the pile of fabric. “Um. Thank you, really. You didn’t have to do this, but…”

She looks down. “No, I wanted to. You know, I’ve been kind of questioning myself as well, but I didn’t want to say anything about it until I was sure,” she lowers her voice, “and at this point maybe I never will be. But this is the least I can do, right?” She offers another half-smile, and I do my best to return it.

“Well, that’s… thank you. Again. And you can talk to me about it. If you want to, of course. I… It might be nice to have someone to relate to.” I’m not sure if I’m reassuring her or myself at this point. Wellbelove seems to understand, and brightens up a bit.

“No, thank you. And you can keep the skirts if you want. I don’t think they suit me.”

She leaves me to sift through the pile. I eventually land on a possibility: it’s a deep forest green, smooth and swirly. When I hold it against my waist, it comes down just above my knees. Part of me feels like I shouldn’t be holding this; like nothing I do will ever turn me into the person I see myself as. But part of me also thinks skirts are fun, and that’s good enough for me. Nothing left to do but try it on.

I look in the mirror and-- Crowley, not again. I’m starting to cry again. It’s just a skirt, but-- well, something about this just makes me feel… different. A good different. More like myself.

Okay, take some deep breaths. I dry my eyes and stand up straight, twirling around a bit. I’m smiling like an idiot now, but I don’t mind. This is the happiest I’ve been for a long time.

I grab the doorknob and throw the door open, shamelessly strutting out and modeling the skirt for everyone. I hardly ever get to be myself like this, and I’m going to enjoy it if it’s the last thing I do.

Everyone’s looking at me. Everyone’s looking at me. Stay calm. Wellbelove is beaming, though she’s trying to hide behind her hands. Shepard just grins and gives me a thumbs-up. Simon’s face is bright red (can’t say I don’t enjoy that), and Bunce puts her hands in front of her mouth and squeals.

“Baz!! You look so good! The color really suits you!”

“Thank you,” I can’t control my smile at this point, “I--” Wait. I have an idea. My mother’s scarf--it’s still folded up in my shirt pocket. I unfold it and tie it around my hair, just like how she used to wear it. Simon’s regained his senses by now and gives me a small smile. I wonder what my mother would say if she could see me now.

Simon gets up and pulls me into a hug. I hug him back, and any apprehension I had fades away. Something about this is familiar; much as we used to hate each other, seeing Simon at Watford always felt like more of a home than my “real” family ever did. Now it’s still the same: I’m at home wherever he is. Nobody can tell me who to be anymore.

***

Bonus:

Simon

Baz looks so good in a skirt. Of course, they do. They look good in everything. Still… something about the way they carry themselves now, how comfortable they look… this is more meaningful. I can’t pretend to know how they feel, or what they’re going through, but I do love them. I’m finally brave enough to say it.

As I pull Baz into a hug, I whisper it into their ear once again: “I love you. So much.”

They squeeze me tighter and return with an “I love you too. Even if your hair smells like barbeque smoke.”

Thank you for reading! This is the first fic I’ve ever published so hopefully I did good haha

This was like… wAYY longer than I planned to write but in my defense, this prompt was lovely and I just wanted there to be more. #noregrets this was very fun and I hope it’s fun for others as well :)

Also, I planned to post this earlier today but..... my laptop died and then I had to catch a flight. And then I thought "you know what would be a great idea? Writing a bonus section!!" ...so r.i.p. my schedule I guess ://

#transmages exchange #simon snow trilogy #carry on #wayward son #rainbow rowell #nonbinary baz pitch #questioning agatha wellbelove #simon snow being a supportive boyfriend #The Gang (TM) being supportive friends #uhh yeah idk what else to tag #i wrote too much #im very tired #this is the first fic ive ever posted!! so I'm super nervous lmao #thats it #i hope you enjoy!

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fragileizywriting · 2 years

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(Okay, please forgive me if this has already been put in a fic and I've missed it) but are Juleka and Rose canon real people in Demon Lovin verse? Like do they exist and if yes, are they also Firsts or Demons?

this hasn't been put into the series yet, don't worry!!! this is technically a (huge!!!! like, huge huge? HUGE) spoiler, so, let me just

here's the thing, okay, behind the scenes right now i'm still hammering away at what i want luka's backstory to be. we're going to go in order with his family by Most Thought Out Backstory to Least, so bear with me!

here's what i got so far:

1) jagged stone is a very good friend luka had back in the 70s, who he taught guitar to and that's why he became so famous, and people thought he had "sold his soul to the devil" and luka would always lose himself laughing everytime he heard it, but no. they were extremely good friends. partially the reason why luka doesn't drink/do drugs (i haven't decided on whether he did previously or just totally and completely abstained from it) is because jagged was totally a stereotypical rockstar and ended up getting that stereotypical "brain melting" situation. by the end of jagged's life he was definitely fried. ozzy style. or syd barrett from pink floyd (i am just casually putting pink floyd's music all as jagged stone's songs because i can)

shine on you crazy diamond by pink floyd (but in-universe it's by jagged stone) in color coordinatin' chapter 1

wish you were here by pink floyd (but in-universe it's also by jagged stone) in color coordinatin' chapter 1, too (i was on a pink floyd kick in april, apparently)

luka will be quoting more of the songs in the future, i am spoiling it now-- it won't be a turning point in his character, but it might give a better sense of why adrien and luka get into philosophical debates a lot. that sounds so cheesy. of course luka would quote a song in a debate. he just has the vibes. in this universe, him and jagged wrote the song "goodbye blue skies" together.

2) anarka is god. or what this AU considers what god is. i try to keep it vague and not-strictly-one-religion so that it's more fantasy (and so that i don't end up offending someone if i try to use something but get it wrong, so i'm digging out my own path here. i reference a lot of catholicism bc that's what i grew up with, but i'm slowly trying to get away from it in the fic so it's more approachable(???))

she humored gabriel when he was younger (they were never children, and she never looked down on anybody. most considered her an older sibling-- luka even considered her a mentor.) but cast him out when he became too violent. i'm still unsure as to why/what luka's reasoning for being cast out is, but maybe leaving it ambiguous would be the best idea for me. unless i hammer it out some more.

3) jules is... hmmm. i haven't picked.

i'm torn between making her a succubus herself and having no relation to luka at all, and make her meet luka when she's introducing herself to marinette at a festival-- she wants one of marinette's bracelets-- she says hello and recognizes him as the guy that worked at the docks for all those years when she lived down there too. (i need more succubus characters, and i'm already down three more classmates since i made kim, chloe, and alix all humans, and i try to avoid OC's as much as possible) if i end up making jules a succubus, rose is one too. the two of them go up as a pair up to marinette, begging her to open up applications to join her cradle.

but jules could also be a demon herself. a First, as well-- y'all have never met a girl First [shoves AU of an AU back into the bin]!!! it would be fun to come up ideas for her. job huntin' establishes that siblings existed/exists in heaven, so making them both tattooed with snakes might work out, too. i write all of my julekas as being selectively mute and uses sign language, so either her being a succubus or a First, i'll make sure that luka actually knows sign language too.

if jules is a First, well. i'm just going to have to figure out a way to put in some moment where the two of them find each other after thousands of years-- maybe she recently fell? that would explain why they hadn't been in contact for a while (and it saves me from continuity errors~)

that was way too much information, wasn't it? sorry LDKJFKSLJDFJLSKFDLSKJFDSLKJFD

#demon lovin #speakizys #although i think this still doesn't spoil anything in terms of plot so i think i'm okay #'plot'#there's a plot i promise or at least i'm working up towards it #slowly

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westallenfun · 3 years

Text

A Most Unexpected Love, Chapter 5

WestAllen secret santa gift

From: @jade4813

For: @sophisticatedloserchick

Author Notes: For the lovely @sophisticatedloserchick from @jade4813! Merry Christmas, and I hope you like my first fic after a long hiatus!

Title: A Most Unexpected Love

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Iris has loved Eddie Thawne Allen her entire life. When she returns home just before Christmas, it looks like she might finally have a chance to catch his eye…unless an accident puts his older brother, Barry, directly in her path. Story inspired by Sabrina (with some quotes lifted more or less directly from the source material).

Chapters: 5/7

Chapter Five

When Iris’s eyes fluttered open the next morning, it was with the vague feeling that something had awoken her, but she couldn’t bring whatever it was to mind. She was warm and toasty in bed, and though the light coming through her bedroom windows was bright, she told herself that could just be due to its reflection off the fallen snow.

So what could have awaken her? As she debated the various merits of going back to sleep or staying awake to ponder the mystery further, she heard the soft thump of snow against her windowpane. That must have been it.

Dragging her body out of bed, her mind clouded with a sense of muddled confusion, she headed over to the window and peered outside just as another snowball struck the side of the house with a wet thud. Pulling the curtains aside, she looked down into the yard to see Barry beneath her window, bundled up in a thick coat, heavy scarf, and woolen hat. The moment he caught sight of her face, she saw him break into a wide grin, gesturing wildly for her to come out to join him. Laughing lightly, Iris rushed to dress, wrapping a scarf around her neck and buttoning her coat as she headed outside.

It didn’t even occur to her that she hadn’t yet checked on Eddie.

“What is this about?” she demanded with feigned affront, bracing her hands on her hips.

Barry took her show of indignation in stride. “We’re making a snowman! Come on!”

As he stooped to scoop some snow into a ball, Iris followed suit, the first touch of icy snow against her palms an immediate reminder that she’d neglected to pull on her gloves. Stopping just long enough to do so, she threw herself into her task, barely noticing as the chill soaked through her jeans where she knelt to build up the body of the snowman. When it grew large enough, she tried to roll it, but the heavy weight of it quickly became too much for her, her feet scrabbling uselessly in the snow when she tried to give it a push.

Iris giggled, collapsing on top of her creation, and Barry bounded up next to her, as enthusiastic as a puppy. “Need help?” he asked. She nodded and was almost disappointed when he took position next to her, rather than framing her body in his arms. Did she really long for him to hold her? She tried not to give that urge too much thought.

With his help, they pushed it until she decreed it the perfect size before tackling the second piece of the body and the head. Once completed, Barry lifted the snowballs into position while Iris packed snow between them so they would remain in place. It took a few tries, but eventually, the snowman stood on its own, and the two of them stepped back to fix it with a critical eye. “Hmmm,” she murmured, pondering its absent face. “I don’t suppose you have a bunch of coal lying around, do you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips twitch as he demanded indignantly, “Just how bad do you think I’ve been this year?”

Feigning innocence she replied, “I don’t know, but I thought I should keep my options open!” He let out a small bark of laughter, and she suggested, “Okay, no coal. How about…you see if you can find some rocks for the eyes and mouth, and I’ll track down a couple branches for the arms.”

“Deal,” he agreed, racing off to perform his task. Meanwhile, Iris headed for the woods, keeping her eye open for branches that were just the right size. Several minutes passed before she found what she was looking for, distracted as she was by the quiet stillness of the forest around her. Once she turned her attention back to the task at hand, she saw the perfect branch above her head, sagging low under the heavy weight of snow.

Reaching up to grab the branch, she grabbed it in one hand, giving it a hard yank to pull it closer. The sharp tug jostled the tree, which unloaded what felt like a mountain of snow onto her head. Iris let out a loud yelp of surprise as the thick coat of white cascaded upon her head and down the back of her coat, her feet sliding out from under her.

Landing hard upon the ground, she blinked in astonishment, trying to process the strange sequence of events and shivering at feel of snow against the back of her neck. She was about to get to her feet to rise again when she heard Barry shout her name.

“Iris!” he cried, racing through the trees to get to her. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” she asked, taken by surprise. “Yeah, of course. I just fell.”

Kneeling in the snow by her side, he explained, “Oh, I thought you might have sprained your ankle again. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” she reassured him gently, touched by his concern. She didn’t protest as he took her hands in his and helped her rise to her feet. Her eyes met his, and she sucked in a ragged breath, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she found herself swaying closer, the warmth of his breath on her cheek drawing her in.

Their noses met, brushed, and she froze, her mouth barely an inch from his. She couldn’t do this. It wasn’t right. Was it? “We should – we should finish our snowman,” she breathed. But still, she didn’t pull away.

“Right,” he agreed, his forehead pressing against hers as their noses brushed together once more.

Acting on impulse, she stretched up, pressing her lips to his cheek instead. “Thank you for coming to make sure I’m okay, though,” she said, as though in explanation, as she rocked back on her heels.

Her action had broken the tension that had built between them, and he smiled down at her. “No problem.” He helped her retrieve the sticks of her choice and followed her back to the snowman, seemingly as eager as she to pretend that nothing untoward had almost happened between them.

Unless…he hadn’t felt the same urge to kiss her that she’d felt to kiss him? What a depressing thought. Caught up in these reflections, her mood was subdued as they returned to the snowman, but Barry didn’t seem to notice. He applied the eyes and mouth while she added the arms, and then they stood side by side as they considered their creation once more.

“I don’t know. It still feels like it’s missing something,” he remarked with a troubled frown. When she remained silent, he shot her a look out of the corner of his eye and said, “I know!” Pulling his scarf from around his neck, he looped it around the snowman and tied it in a knot, drawing away with a grunt of satisfaction.

“You know, it could probably use a nose,” she offered in a flat voice when he still seemed dissatisfied. “You wouldn’t happen to have a carrot, would you?”

“Good question. Let’s find out.” Grabbing her by the hand, he led her into the house, heading directly to the kitchen. Once there, he went in search of a carrot while she approached what looked like a pile of groceries on the kitchen counter. “I don’t see a carrot, but would an eggplant do?” he called, his head still buried in the refrigerator. “Or how about…oh, no, that’s no good. What even is this? Green pepper?”

“What’s this?” she asked, staring at the objects in question rather than investigate the state of what sounded like possibly some very dubious vegetables.

Her question drew his attention, distracting him from his task. “Oh,” he replied sheepishly as he joined her side. “Well, I thought it would be fun to build a gingerbread house, so I went out this morning and got everything I thought we would need.”

“I’d say!” she said in amazement. “You got enough to make a whole village!” But even as she spoke, she pulled off her gloves and shrugged out of her coat, tossing it on the back of a chair. Unlooping her scarf from around her neck, she tossed it aside as well, all but pushing up her sleeves as she turned to the items in question. When Barry didn’t move right away, she prodded him, “Well? Are we doing this or aren’t we?”

The unfinished snowman forgotten, Barry grinned and shrugged out of his own coat, tossing it on top of hers. “Okay, why don’t you get everything set up and I’ll heat up some hot chocolate. I assume you want mini-marshmallows in yours?”

She threw him a skeptical look. “Is it really hot chocolate without them?”

“Good point!” They each focused on their respective tasks for the next several minutes, but as Barry placed her full mug of hot chocolate by her elbow (complete with six mini-marshmallows, and, yes, she checked), he asked, “Have you ever done this before?”

“Nope. You?”

“Never. Well, this should be…interesting.”

It was interesting, indeed, she decided a short while later. Not entirely successful. But interesting. “We did it! I think it’s – no!” she cried when two walls they’d been trying to cement into place for the last ten minutes collapsed for the sixth time. Throwing Barry a frustrated look, she groused, “I could have sworn the peanut butter would do the trick. It sticks to everything.”

“What can I say? I wanted to be a scientist, not an architect,” Barry pointed out, throwing their efforts a considering look. “You know…there’s nothing that really says we have to make a gingerbread house,” he suggested skeptically.

Pursing her lips, Iris followed his gaze and asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“Gingerbread…modern art?” he offered weakly, making her snort in response. She actually snorted.

“Deal,” she agreed, latching on to his suggestion like it was a lifeline. “But only if you make us some more hot chocolate!”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he grumbled good-naturedly, turning back to the stove. “I’ve dealt with lawyers who drive less ruthless bargains than that.”

“Flatterer.”

Happy to abandon their gingerbread architecture efforts, Iris waited in silence as he refreshed their drinks. She was reluctant for this time together to end, but she couldn’t think of something else to suggest to pass the time.

He seemed as eager to prolong the moment, falling into step beside her as they strolled in the general direction of the living room. “So,” he began, his voice trailing off lamely as they passed through the foyer, shoving his hands into his pockets once more. She was beginning to realize it as something he only did when he was nervous or uncertain.

“So,” she agreed, slowing to a stop. He turned to face her, and she swallowed wracking her brain to think of something more to say. He was so tall, she had to tilt her head back to look at him, her body swaying toward his. Which is when she saw it. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh what?” he asked, following her gaze. When he saw what had caught her attention, he breathed, “Oh.” His chin dropped, their eyes meeting, and she noticed he was blushing. “You know, we don’t – it’s a silly tradition, anyway.”

He was offering her a way out, and she appreciated it. But it only made her realize that she didn’t want a way out. “But it is tradition,” she pointed out, resting her hand on his chest, just over his heart. Her voice dropping to a whisper, she said, “Unless you don’t want to?”

“I want to,” he breathed in return, causing her heart to race.

His hand cupped her cheek, his palm warm against her skin, and she leaned into his embrace. He tilted his head toward hers, and she caught her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. And then his mouth was on hers, his lips surprisingly tender. The kiss was supposed to be brief, but when she felt him start to draw away, she clutched the front of his shirt in her fist, silently asking him to stay.

He hesitated for just a second and then leaned in again, his hand moving from her cheek to cup the back of her head. Iris gasped, her lips parting, stretching on her toes and pressing her body against his as his tongue swept into her mouth.

She was breathing heavily by the time the kiss broke off, and the two stared at each other in silence as she tried to process what had just happened between them.

“Iris I—” he began, but a voice interrupted them.

“Iris!” Eddie cried, and she whirled around to see him hobbling toward the two of them, relying on a cane to support his weight.

“Eddie!” she gasped in surprise, jumping away from Barry. “What are you doing up?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Barry look between the two of them before drawing away. She wished she could reach out to him, but she forced herself to remain still.

“I was coming to find you,” Eddie said with that practiced smile of his. Wait, practiced? When had it changed from boyish to practiced in her mind? “I hope Barry hasn’t been boring you too much in my absence.”

Though his voice had been light and teasing, Iris felt her muscles tense as an automatic defense rose to her lips. “He hasn’t been boring me at all! We’ve been having…fun.”

Barry’s voice was flat and devoid of emotion as he said, “Yeah, but since you’re here, I really do have some work to do. See you later, Iris. Eddie.”

“You don’t have to—” she protested weakly, but he seemed not to hear her as he strolled away, not looking back even once.

Eddie shifted toward her, drawing her attention. “You know, it occurs to me…we never did get our dance in the solarium. What do you say I grab us a bottle of champagne and a couple of plastic cups from the kitchen and we head out there now?”

Torn between the longing in her heart to call after Barry and the memory of the years spent pining for the man in front of her, she asked dubiously, “Are you sure you should be drinking? You are on some pretty strong medication.”

Seemingly charmed by the thought she was worried for him, Eddie’s smile widened. “All right,” he conceded, “we don’t need to drink, but we should dance, at least.”

“And what happens next?” she blurted, unaware the question was even on her mind until she’d uttered it. But, of course, she knew what would happen next. There would be a plane flight to Martha’s Vineyard. A show on Broadway. Dinner and dancing and a carriage ride in the park. And one day, there would be diamond earrings and a goodbye. Because that was Eddie. That was what he did. And while she may have spent the last decade or more telling herself she was special, the truth was…she wasn’t. At least, she wasn’t to him.

“Next?” he repeated, sounding confused.

“After. What happens after the dance?”

“After?” he parroted again, as though the question was entirely foreign to him. As though he’d never before pondered the concept of time or the linear progression of events. For every event, just as there was a before there would inevitably be an after. There was before his injury and after his injury. There was before she returned home and after she returned home. Before she kissed Barry Allen in his own foyer and, well…

Whatever happened next, she would now forever be the Iris who existed after that kiss. She lifted her hand, lightly pressing her fingers against her lower lip as she remembered the feel of his mouth against hers.

Ignorant of her thoughts, Eddie offered her his well-worn charm and admitted, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Can’t we worry about that later?”

He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away, pretending she hadn’t noticed his effort. Ducking her head so he wouldn’t see her confusion and the conflicting feelings in her eyes, she agreed. “Yes. Of course. We can worry about it later.”

“So, our dance…?”

“Maybe tomorrow. You really shouldn’t push it. I don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

Eddie seemed disappointed, but he held out his arm for her to take. “My guardian angel. Okay, I’ll go, but only if you walk me back to my room.”

It was the least she could do. He’d injured himself coming to see her, so it really was the very least she could do. Plus, while her unexpected change in feelings left her reeling and uncertain, she did like Eddie, underneath it all. And so she didn’t begrudge looping her arm in his or walking him slowly back to his room, her body pressed against his side.

As she took his arm, however, she felt a shiver go down her spine. “Are you okay?” he asked, feeling her sudden trembling.

Iris nodded. “Yeah, I just…cold chill. I’m one of those people who always feels cold, you know?”

“Really? I didn’t know that. But I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other, and after our dance,” he paused and threw Iris a proud grin, as though he’d just said something charming and clever, “we can spend as much time as want learning it all. And, of course, I’ll be happy to warm you up any time you want.”

She forced a laugh at his wolfish grin, as she knew he’d expected. After that, she let her mind wander as she escorted Eddie back to his room, laughing lightly whenever there was a break in the conversation that seemed to call for one. Wondering what Barry had been thinking as he’d left her standing alone under the mistletoe.

#westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

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herenya-writes · 3 years

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You want questions, I'll give you questions for the fic thingy: 5 7 8 10 (the space between us) 20 26 27 28 (any of your fics tbh could be oms one or on my lips) 36 38

Woww you really looked at my sad plea for asks and decided to just give me all of them lol. Thank you for fueling my need to talk about my fics! Warning, this is gonna be a long one!

5. Do you listen to music when writing? Almost always. Often it’s instrumental (I like epic orchestra music and classical music or ambient space-themed music) but occasionally I’ll listen to pieces with lyrics. I wrote the OMS fic while listening to Frank Sinatra, and the last few chapters of On My Lips were written while listening to Mumford and Sons.

7. What story/headcanons do you feel the proudest of? Oh goodness, this is an evil question...I’m really proud of my T’hy’la bang fic “Strange Wings” because it’s an AU, which I hardly ever write. It was a lot of fun to do. “The Space Between Us” also holds a special place in my heart—the comments I got on that one (specifically from @marlinspirkhall) still make me grin.

8. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi chaptered stories? Multi-chapter. I write a lot of one-shots because I don’t always have time for bigger fics, but I love multi-chapters.

10. What is the line you’re proudest of from The Space Between Us? Another evil question lol. This is more than just one line, but: “I’m sorry that my best wasn’t enough. I’m sorry that my best will never be enough, not for you. You deserve so much more than me.” [Jim] laughed lightly and shook his head. “If I could, I’d give you the universe just to see you smile. But I can’t. But—” He took a deep breath. “But I want to try, Spock.”

okay this is really long—Imma add a cut in case any of you actually want to read my ramblings lol

20. What feedback makes you the happiest to hear? When people quote parts of my story back to me and tell me why they liked this scene or line in particular I grin like a fool. The fact that people can point to a specific thing and go ‘this, this is wonderful because of x or y’ it makes me ridiculously happy.

26. Are titles for your stories easy to come up with? lol no. I think there have only been a few instances when the names came easy to me. I hate naming things.

27. What time of day do you prefer to write? I don’t really have a preferred time—I write all throughout the day. Mornings when I can get up early and write a thousand words or so before actually having to do life things are wonderful though.

28. Is there a part of your fics you’re surprised no one has picked up on yet? Hmmm, not that I can think of... I’m really not terribly clever with plot twists or things like that.

36. What fanfic of yours has the symbolism you’re proudest of? Symbolism, you ask? Maybe “Strange Wings”. There are a couple of different things there that I’m proud of, and it’s probably got the most obvious symbolism.

38. What story of yours are you surprised that people liked as much as they did? “On My Lips” for sure. I had no idea people would be so excited about the accidental ashayam premise. It’s pretty common in the fandom, so I thought people might be tired of it. It’s not even finished and it already has twice as many hits as “Strange Wings” does.

Thank you so much for all of these fabulous questions! If anyone actually read this far, I hope you know I appreciate everyone who reads my fics!

#asks #thank you!!!#matsuorka pretty much exhausted half the list #but feel free to send in more questions if yall have any!#love yall!

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tavi-hayes · 4 years

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challenge one ~ first day of the selection

((i honestly have no idea how i even wrote this fic! this was literally written very very quickly so please excuse me for the quality of this, i don’t have time to write anything better. oh and writing out rps is not one of my talents. anyhow thanks to pia @brookelynnsanders for that super fun rp! and thanks to anna for the interview))

We are all waiting for the gigantic doors in front of me to open, well not directly in front me. The other girls are chatting to one another, excited for this whole thing to officially begin.

I, myself, don’t feel that excited. Waking up alone in a new environment, without any of my loved ones around, hit me harder than I expected. Plus my energy levels are a little low, probably because of the time difference with Denbeigh. Back home I’d be in the store right now, my belly already filled with food. But my life had taken an unexpected turn, and I wasn’t sure yet if it was for the better.

Some gasps around me take me out of my daydream, the doors had opened and now there was a clear view of the room inside. The other selected are swarming inside already, but I decide to hang back a little so I can actually breath in some fresh air.

I slowly make my way inside and have a look around. There are lavish decorations everywhere, paintings, flowers, crystal chandeliers. I don’t share the feeling of awe visible on the faces of some of the other girls. What I feel is more like disgust. I mean there are better ways to spend your money. But why would you lower the taxes for the Illéan citizens when those same taxes make it possible for you to buy that enormous Rembrandt?

Another thing I notice are the tables. Five of them are placed on a semi-circle with the sixth one in the front of them. That must be the table for the royal family. A maid taps me on the shoulder and points me to where I’m supposed to sit. How great, from my chair the royal table is right in my line of vision.

I take a deep sigh while making my way to table two. A familiar blonde is already seated, “oh hey Brooke.” She actually seemed alright when I met her yesterday at the airport. Therefore, I’m glad to be sitting next to her. It could have been a lot worse, what if I had been stuck with some dramatic, overly confident Two. Yuck.

“Octavia!” she replies. It’s still weird for me to hear people calling me by my name. I’m so used to everyone calling me Tavi. And the only person who called me Octavia hadn’t been around for six years.

Shaking the thoughts of my dad off me, I take a seat on the chair that has been assigned to me. On the plate in front is a little card with my name written on it in a very elegant handwriting.

“Looks like we are stuck together again.” I quickly scan the other girls from this table. The only person I recognize, beside Brooke, is the one sitting on my left side.

It was the hugely famous Shala Lie. What an honour it is to even be in her presence.

Everyone, and I literally mean anyone, knows her. Even when you have lived under a rock for the past 10 years, you would know of her banging song simply because it was one that got stuck in your head and you would be humming the melody without even being aware of it.

On my other side Brooke chuckles, “rather stuck with the devil I know than a stranger.”

“Amen to that,” I softly chuckle along, “how have you settled in yet? Are you liking your bedroom?”

“Ohh I love my bedroom. Full of plants and a wonderful view on the garden. How about you? No complaints yet.” Thank god for Brooke and her extensive answers. I appreciate someone who can keep a conversation going.

“The gardens must be beautiful, with so many flowers blossoming.” I sigh trying to find the words to describe my own stay. Actually telling her I’m not really looking forward to this whole thing doesn’t seem like the best idea. For now, anyway. Instead I sigh and say, “no complaints yet, no, though this weather,” pfft, “pretty warm, even at night.” While I give the room a quick scan, I notice all girls have taken their seats. My eye also falls on the buffet tables, but too bad it doesn’t seem like we’re allowed to go grab some food just yet. Then I remember the other kind girls from our plane ride yesterday.

Just as I spot them sitting on the table next to ours, Brooke says, “You don't like warm weather, never heard someone complain about the sun. Who are you looking for?”

“When you're used to freezing winds and coldness, this weather feels like a thousand degrees.” Clara and Haven have worse seats then we do, their table is right in front of the royal table. They won’t be able to escape from watchful eyes. Poor girls. “oh just the other girls from our plane, it's good to see they've survived their first night as well.”

The blonde next to me laughs, “why wouldn't they have? Know something about a secret attack?”

I turn back to face her again, “You never know who or what lurks around when everyone is asleep.” We haven’t met the prince yet, maybe he is some creep slipping in and out of our rooms through some secret passages.

Brooke and I chat a bit more before the royal princess herself enters the room. I hear some gasps again, girls staring with nothing but admiration shining in their eyes. The princess smiles at us, I don’t feel the need to smile back. Instead I mumble softly, “this is gonna take a while.”

“Good morning. I’m sure you’re all... eager to start seeing as you’re meeting my brother shortly, so I’ll try to keep this brief.” Well, if there is one person in this room who is eager it’s me. Eager for some food I mean. The princess continues talking with an elegant tone in her voice. With everyone being silent, her voice carries very well over the room. I can tell the acoustics are spot-on, a musical ensemble would really benefit when playing in such a room.

My band would sound a-freaking-mazing here. If I close I my eyes, I can already see us performing here. Though that would mean they’d have to fly in all the way from Winnipeg, costing a lot of money. Money that some of us have to work very hard for.

Then a door opens, some girls turn in their chairs to have a look. What’s that on their faces? Shock? Fear? Jealousy?

I turn my face in the same direction to see someone, a girl, walking into the room. I honestly have no clue who she is or what she is doing here but judging by the smug look she has on her face, she is not some scullery maid.

“Who is it?” I softly ask Brooke. Perhaps she knows something I don’t.

Turns out she is almost as clueless as I am, “She looks familiar, but I can't really pinpoint where I know here from...”

“Hmmm,” the girl walks over to the princess, they seem to know one another. “Maybe a friend? Or some distant relative?”

The princess doesn’t look too happy, a few deep sighs and some looks between the other girl and us.

Then Brooke jumps in, “But why should I recognize a distant rel- ohhhhh.”

I take my eyes of the scene happening in the centre of the room and turn to Brooke instead, “who is it?”

The look on her face is a bit unreadable, “Don't quote me on this, but I am pretty sure it is Prince Arin's ex-girlfriend.”

I have honestly never been the person to show interest in the royal family and their whereabouts. Though there is something inside me that clicks and a memory resurfaces. Gina’s voice calls out to me, ‘his engagement was called off not that long ago.’

“Wait wait, the one from the cancelled engagement?”

Brooke replies with a nod, “yep.”

Why on earth would she be here? Isn’t this like extremely awkward for her? One of us in this room is supposed to fill the spot next to the prince. Correction, her spot.

“Why is she pointing at us?”

I sigh, “don’t know. I wish we could hear what they’re saying.”

“Safiya doesn't seem too happy about the news....” the blonde next to me points out. And she is correct, the princess does not look happy, not at all.

“Yeah you're right, but the other girl, the ex, looks way too happy though.” I say as I flip my hair over my shoulder, “why do I feel like drama is gonna come of this?”

Brooke chuckles, “I wouldn't mind some drama actually.”

I join her, softly that is. I don’t want to catch any attention, especially not the attention from the ex-fiancée. She has a bit of a weird vibe hanging around her, “I agree, this selection could use a little bit of spice.” As long as the drama doesn’t involve me.

The princess’s voice calls out to us again, “table manners are very important, and before you can eat in front of the royal family, you must be aware of certain etiquette.”

With that my focus lands on all the stuff laid out in front of me. I don’t understand why there should be at least 5 glasses for just one person. And I haven’t even said anything about the crazy amount of cutlery. I feel bad for the people who have to do the dish washing here, what a crappy job.

“It’s like we’re back in school again,” a place I hadn’t been to in years. My school years had been with ups and downs. I seem to have troubles keeping my attention on one thing. Every time I need to focus on something my brain seems to riot, making me remember the most random stuff.

Exactly that is happening right now.

I can’t suppress a yawn, “I could use some food.”

Instead of paying attention, I engage in a softly spoken conversation with Brooke about her passions, ballet dancing and psychology.

Suddenly, she gets up. Following the direction she just faced, I see that ex-girlfriend looking towards our table. Brooke does a curtsy, to which I comment, “perfect curtsy, 10 out of 10!” along with some thumbs-up.

She winks at me as she takes a bow, “thank you me lady.”

That makes me laugh, Brooke also makes a sound. Though it’s not coming from her mouth. No, it’s coming from het abdomen area.

I let out an oops. That same thing has happened to me many times before. And always in the most awkward situations. Like on a nearly empty subway train, where you can’t really blame someone else.

“Oh look I think the princess has done with the lesson?” I couldn’t be any happier, given that I could use some food too.

The girl next to me replies, “I fuck- freaking hope so. I am starting to get hangry.”

Oh she is so great. Someone who isn’t looking at everything and everyone with heart-eyes, hoping to make the best impression. No, Brooke seems to be very similar to me, just throwing sarcasm around like confetti but still showing a lot of passion for the stuff she cares about.

Did I just make a friend?

Before I know it, I have my plate in my hand and I’m standing next to my chair, “let’s go!”

Together we make our way to the buffet. There is literally anything you could think off. From cupcakes and waffles, to broccoli and bacon. What is this place?

Brooke seems to have noticed the crazy amount of food as well, “how am I supposed to choose?”

“Just take a bit of everything,” I say as I use some tongs to grab a croissant.

My action doesn’t go unnoticed, “someone learned something today.”

“It might seem shocking, but I did listen to what the princess was saying,” next I move towards the fruit section, but keeping it simple I go for some apple slices, “well only partly but still.”

Brooke giggles at that, “didn't take you for a multitasker.”

Pfft, why do people seem to underestimate me? “I have many talents,” and many of them still hidden, hidden so deeply that even I don’t know what they are.

So far there’s a croissant on my plate and some slices of apple. I decide to take a little bowl filled with yoghurt and add some granola to it.

Brooke is waiting for me to finish, bless her. Her own plate has some very healthy-looking stuff on it.

We barely make it back to our table when Brooke starts attacking her food, something that makes me laugh again. “This is sooo good. Didn't think a palace would have such amazing avocados.”

I take one of the spoons from the table, not knowing nor caring if it’s the correct one, and start eating my yoghurt. “Only the best of the best for this wonderful family.”

After several minutes of eating, I already feel much more alive, “and now that we've had some food the day can officially begin”

I opt for the croissant, but I’m not sure whether to eat it out of my hand or if I should use cutlery. I decide to just take a bite. Not clever Tavi. Crumbs and flakes fall everywhere. On the table, on the napkin covering my lap, on my dress.

The girl next to me hums, her spirits obviously lifted now that she has some food in her mouth, “I guess the prince doesn't have to face hangry Brooke just yet.”

While wiping the crumbs from my dress, making sure no one notices the fact that they’re now on the floor. Oops. “So is food the way to your heart?”

“Not the entire part - but a good chunk of it.”

I instantly forget what I was about to say, when someone’s name is called. My eyes follow the girl as she is escorted out of the room. The first one to meet the prince, tough. She must make a good first impression for herself, and for the rest of the group. If the prince doesn’t like her there’s a huge possibility he’ll be in a crappy mood once it’s my turn.

“Would have preferred some liquid courage beforehand tho,” Brooke chimes next to me.

I laugh as I face her again, “now that would have been interesting!”

“Then everything would be easy peezy lemon squeezy,” she pauses for a little while, “but seriously - are you nervous?”

I shrug, not really knowing what to answer. “A little bit, he is a member of the most powerful family in this country,” flipping my hair again, I decide to redirect the question, “What about yourself?”

Brooke smirks at me, “so you are nervous.” But then she pauses again and I see her smirk drop, “I am not quite sure what I feel... On the one hand I know I should be scared but on the other... I just feel invincible... You know?”

We talk a bit more before someone calls out Brooke’s name. As she gets up, I wish her good luck. She probably won’t need it. If she is anything like the way she was around me this morning, then the prince must instantly like her.

I’m left on my own, alone with my thoughts. But before I know it my name is called. I quickly pick up a spoon to check if there’s some croissant stuck between my teeth. Then I get up, my mind set on making the best first impression as possible. Can’t have him send me home already.

I’m ushered into a different room. The first thing I notice are the cameras. I flinch, if say something stupid or insult the prince, the whole country will be able to see. I can feel my pulse rise, but before the nerves get the best of me, I push them down and lock them away, deeply hidden.

The second thing I notice are the luxurious decorations. Every wall is lined with paintings. I just can’t with these people. Don’t they have better causes to spend their money on?

Only then do I notice the prince, right when he stands up from the sofa. His eyes go to my name tag and then he gives me a small bow, “good morning, Lady Octavia. Please have a seat.”

The imagine of Brooke’s perfect curtsy flashes before my eyes. I try my best to copy it, but I’m failing miserably. Maybe I should have practiced when I had the chance? Oh well, too late for that. “Thank you, Your Highness.” I quickly make my way to the sofa and sit down.

The prince, the most powerful male figure in Illéa, sits down next to me. I strongly feel the need to put some distance between us, but it would be extremely weird if I would just stand up to sit somewhere else. Plus the whole country would be able to see that happen. I can already imagine the headlines in tomorrow’s newspapers.

He takes a deep breath, “how is your morning so far?”

It was perfect you know; I finally learned some table manners. And oh, did I mention your ex-fiancée paying us a visit. What a catch she is! That does not sound like a great answer. So I go for something vague instead, “I can say it has been very interesting so far, thanks. How's your morning going?”

He raises his eyebrows before he smiles a little. “I think mine has been interesting as well. Did you sleep alright last night?”

“Yes I did, the mattress was perfect. Though I was a bit confused when I woke up, I kind of forgot where I was.” Oh not to forget that my bedroom here is bigger in size than the entire first floor of my family’s house back in Winnipeg.

The prince frowns at my answer, but then he nods. “I get that. Being somewhere new can be difficult. What’s your home province?”

Geez, what’s with all these questions. Doesn’t he know how to have a spontaneous conversation. “Denbeigh, sir.” Sir? What are you saying Tavi? I push a curl behind my ear, “oh wait, I meant Your Highness.”

He smiles a little again, “you can call me whatever you like.” I’ll keep that in mind. The prince takes a breath and then adds, “um, what do you do in Denbeigh?”

Memories of my friends and family resurface, a feeling of happiness and pride washing over me. I sit up a little straighter before I blurt out, “I work in a music store, we have all sorts of music instruments and CDs, records, all that sort of stuff.”

“Oh, that sounds cool,” he says as he nods his head. “What sort of music do you like to listen to?”

“What makes you think I like to listen to music?” Oops, that sounded a bit harsh. I decide to add an I’m kidding, just in case he couldn’t tell. “I can appreciate every genre. Though I think my favourite would have to be rock music. What about yourself? Do you like music?”

“I do, yeah. I like alternative mostly. But I like some classical too,” he says before he glances around.

That makes me glance around as well, suddenly making me very aware of the cameras surrounding us. I immediately forget what he just said, “ah okay, yeah that is cool.” That sounds like a very suitable answer. Unless he asked a question. Shit.

I focus back on the prince’s face, trying very hard to forget the cameras filming my every move. His face crunches up again, “uh, how are you liking the weather?”

The weather, some might say it’s an awkward topic to talk about only brought up when in the need to fill a silence. It’s actually one of my favourite conversation topics. “Uhm, very different from the weather I'm used to. Denbeigh's climate is way colder, with a little snowstorm here and there this time a year.”

“Really?” Apparently, my answer caught him by surprise, “I don’t think I realized that. I’ll have to look into it.” What kind of royal person is this? Isn’t he supposed to be the heir to the throne? And he doesn’t even know the different climates?

I decide to hold back from saying that, “yeah go for it. Back home everyone is still walking around in their winter clothing, with so many layers. And here I can basically walk around in a bikini and not be cold at all.”

That makes him chuckle, “you could but the maids might look at you funny.” His reply surprises me. Based on that draw we all saw on tv, I thought he’d be uncomfortable, expressionless and maybe just a tad bit boring. But he turns out to actually have some emotions.

“And they will be blinded by the reflection of the sunlight on my skin, I won't put them through that.” Because let’s be honest, when is the last time I’ve been able to walk around in a bikini outside? Oh yeah that’s right, never!

He laughs a little harder this time, “please don’t, they’d complain.” Then his face is lit up again by a small smile. His laughter, his humour and his smile are all so shocking to me that I even smile in return.

Before I can say something else, he glances at his watch, “oh.” His eyes land on me again, “Lady Octavia, thank you for speaking with me this morning. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Thank you too,” I say and I think I might even mean it. I join him as he stands up, “have fun with the rest of these interviews.”

“I’ll do my best,” he smiles at me again before I walk away.

As I leave that room, I come to the conclusion that this whole prince guy might not be so boring after all.

#selectionoc #fic #challenge 1

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mrslittletall · 5 years

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Title: A Storm is coming (Chapter 14) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Big Hat Logan, Sieglinde of Catarina, Seath the Scaleless Word Count: 7.111 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610/chapters/48293632 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/186932649499/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-13-fandom-dark

Summary: Tempest and Ornstein find out about Seath's secret. It is time to challenge the paledrake.

(Author's note: I just want to thank anybody who has been a continued supporter of this story and any new reader. This fic got quite some attention and I am often baffled by it, because I made it up on a whim. Even now, most actions from Ornstein and Tempest happen when they tell me what they do, I just give them the general direction.

And now that this is said, let's see how they fare against Seath.)

On their way back to the room that Logan had described, Tempest and Ornstein had to take care of all the crystallized hollows and unfortunately the channelers again. Resting at a bonfire would naturally bring hollows back to life, but just how many channelers had Seath to spare?

Ornstein sighed as they hacked and slayed their way back through the archives. When they were out on the balconies, Tempest got curious enough to look down and noticed a garden with an awful large number of crystal golems in it. Ornstein just dragged him along, they got sidetracked enough already. Luckily soon after Tempest managed to spot the room, excitedly pointed to it and then ran into it screaming when another arrow got stuck in his shoulder.

Ornstein followed Tempest and watched as he hacked the archer down with his sword all while calling obscenities. Ornstein leaned against the wall, letting the scene play out as Tempest managed to kill the archer and looked up, freezing when he saw Ornstein, who simply scolded: “Language. Keep this words for Seath.”

“Sorry.”, Tempest kicked the corpse of the crystal hollow down the ledge. After a while a thud was heard. Tempest pointed to the ladder. “We can go down there.”

“You can use it, I am fine with jumping.”, Ornstein replied and hopped off before Tempest could say anything, landing effortlessly on the floor. Tempest soon followed, sliding down the ladder. Ornstein wondered if that didn't hurt his hands, but the little storm was wearing leather gloves which surely helped.

Once down, he looked around. Ornstein did the same. Indeed, there was another section with books. With how hidden it was, it was a good bet that they would find something worthwhile here.

“There is a lever there.”, Tempest pointed to the lever and rushed forward to push it. Ornstein internally groaned.

“Why do you push levers you have no clue what they are doing, little storm?”, he scolded.

“What, do you think it was trapped?”, Tempest asked with an astounded sound in his voice. It turned out, the lever wasn't trapped. Instead, it opened up a secret passage.

“Hey, that was the room from before!”, Tempest said and then exclaimed: “I can spot a bonfire!” Before Ornstein could say anything, the little storm had rushed out already and Ornstein dashed behind him, taking care of several crystal hollows in this room. Once Tempest had reached the bonfire and lighted it, Ornstein stood behind him in his full size, gaze dark, even though it couldn't be seen through his helmet.

“What have I said about rushing forwards, little storm?”, Ornstein growled.

Tempest shrank under his tone, muttering: “Sorry, sorry... I won't do it again.”

“Good.”, Ornstein picked Tempest up at the collar and dragged him back to the secret library. “And now we do what we came here for in the first place! Take a look around! Just... do something useful!”

Tempest sneaked away after that scolding and Ornstein took a look at the books. Hopefully he would find something worthwhile. He was distracted though when the sounds of a fight wandered to his ears.

“What now?”, Ornstein shouted and rushed over to see Tempest locked in a fight with a mimic. At least this time he seemed to have checked. The archives seemed to be as infested with them as Anor Londo.

Ornstein readied his spear and helped Tempest out by dealing the finishing blow on the mimic with a thrust. The mimic died with a last groan and spat out its contents.

“By looking around I meant find something to read not loot this place!”, he hissed.

“But... but maybe we could find something interesting in this chests? This is why I wanted to check”. Tempest tried to defend himself, picking the item up. “It's a falchion, but it looks different.”, he murmured.

“It's enchanted.”, Ornstein said. He recognized this type of ascension right away. “Sorcerer's like to use enchanted weapons, because they react to their magic and will hit harder this way. For anyone who isn't attuned with sorcery, it's worthless.”

“Hmmm...”, Tempest pocketed the item even though Ornstein hadn't seen him use a single sorcery yet. Then he went to inspect the other chests around, giving each one of them a good hit with his sword. Ornstein should probably teach him how to spot the mimics at the subtle difference, but with the little storm he felt it was safer for him to check every time.

Ornstein turned around and put his attention back at the books. He scanned the backs until he found something that piqued his interest. It looked like one of Seath's scientist journals. He picked up the book and flipped it open.

A few minutes after he had flipped through the pages, trying to find something interesting to stop, he heard Tempest's voice behind him: “Hey Ornstein, look.”

Ornstein turned around to see Tempest in a complete channeler set, holding the trident he had picked up earlier, making an impression of that ridiculous dance they always did. Ornstein could just stare: “What are you doing, idiot?”

“Aw, you don't laugh at all. You are no fun.”

“Just... stop fooling around and help me researching already.” Ornstein's patience grew thin. Tempest came over and laid a few items down in front of Ornstein.

“Can anything of this help with fighting Seath?”, he asked.

Ornstein sighed, but took a look at the items anyway. One was a blue titanite chunk, the other was more interesting. “Would you look at this, a crystal ember.”, Ornstein said. “You should give this to the giant blacksmith, that is the only one who knows how to use this. Like I said, I am not fond of crystal weapons, but if you want to try and use them, this is how you are able to get more once they break.”

“What about the other item?”, Tempest pointed at the blue titanite chunk.

“That's just used for magic weapons, useless for us.”, Ornstein said, shaking his head.

“...I also found this key...”, Tempest raised the key and Ornstein swore he would have seen the glittering in his eyes when he wouldn't still wear this ridiculous channeler outfit. “Maybe this opens up the cell? For Logan I mean? ...Can... can we go back, please?”

“...We haven't found out anything yet and you want to venture out in the archives again?”, Ornstein growled a bit more than he wanted.

“...It's just... Logan is a sorcerer. He probably can help us deciphering this texts. Don't you think?”

...The little storm had a point. Ornstein never had tried to understand sorcery and had to admit that a lot of Seath's notes were overly confusing for him.

“..Alright.”, he gave in. “But only when you change out of this ridiculous outfit.”

---

A good while later the sorcerer had been freed and walked back with them to the library. On the way, Tempest talked a bit to him. Ornstein only half listened. Tempest had found a fire keeper soul in the cell, which made Ornstein wonder if Seath even had dared to experiment on one of them.

Just as Tempest told Logan that he had enough brains to understand basic magic but didn't fully grasp it and Logan answered, that he just needed to train his wits more for that, they reached the secret library.

“Alright, no more fooling around!”, Ornstein said, pointing at the books around them. “We have to find out what Seath's weak point is, so get reading, little storm!”

“I am going to find out more about his magic.”, Logan said in his calm voice and retreated into a rather dark corner of the library. Ornstein picked up the book he had searched through earlier again and Tempest walked along the shelves, eventually picking out a book.

Ornstein had flipped through three books already, finding nothing worthwhile to actually stop and reading, when Tempest breathed in sharply next to him, staring at his book with an open mouth.

“Have you found something?!”, Ornstein abandoned his book and stared at Tempest.

“N..No.. it's just.” The face of the small Undead flashed red. “...Read for yourself.” He handed the book to Ornstein.

Ornstein took one look at the lines and knew exactly what Tempest had meant. He apparently had decided to read Seath's diary and the paledrake had used some rather... flowery words to describe a juicy scene.

“So that's where he got the inspiration for his cursed book.”, Ornstein muttered under his breath.

“Book?”, Tempest asked.

“The 'Grimoire of the forbidden fruits'. It wouldn't surprise me when it is around here anywhere. I told you about Seath's nature. Well, once he wrote a book about his favourite past time. It's awful, but people loved it because it was so bad. Artorias actually owned this book. We sometimes quoted lines from it when we needed a quick laugh.”

Tempest face followed Ornstein during all his words and Ornstein could see the exact moment where he understood as his lips formed a silent “oh”.

“Well, let's search farther. And when you intend on keeping reading Seath's diary, just skim that parts.”

Tempest nodded and they read along in silence for a good while. How long? Two or three hours? Enough for Ornstein to grow cramped and hungry. Time for a break. He put the book down he had flipped through and searched for something to eat. As he chewed on the dried meat, he noticed that he managed to miss Tempest's cooking.

As Tempest noticed that Ornstein had taken a break, he looked up from his book and said: “In this one Seath is mentioning something about having a daughter. Does this count as weakness? I mean, if we can find her, maybe we can blackmail him into spitting his weakness?”

Ornstein swallowed his current mouthful and rinsed it with a sip of water. “That's not very chivalry, I wouldn't help you by this. Besides, Seath's daughter has long been shut away. And even if she would still be around, she is half dragon. She would completely wipe the floor with you.”

Memories of Priscilla briefly flashed through Ornstein's mind. An extraordinary powerful child, but her powers inflicted fear in the inhabitants of the cathedral. Eventually, Lord Gwyn had deciced to look her away in a Painted World. Ornstein wondered if she was still in there and if yes, what she was doing?

“Oh...”, Tempest silently replied to him and continued reading.

After eating, Ornstein excused himself to step out for a brief moment and upon his return, he saw Tempest talk with Logan. He was curious enough to listen in, so Ornstein walked over and squatted down. They were talking about crystal magic. Apparently, Logan tried to recreate the spells that Seath had invented.

“Why are you listening so intensely when you aren't a sorcerer yourself?”, Ornstein whispered to Tempest.

“I still find the theory fascinating.”, Tempest replied, eyes glued on Logan.

Ornstein sighed quietly and sat down, deciding to listening in. His own research had brought him nowhere and Tempest reading the diaries only had unearthed things about Seath he wanted to forget.

“So this magic is able to infuse a weapon with crystal magic, which increases each blow immensely. It also comes with the advantage, that you can use a common weapon for it, one that can be repaired. And the spell gives it the strength of a crystal weapon.”, Logan explained.

Ornstein knew that neither he or Tempest had much use for this magic. Ornstein's weapon was unable to be effected by magic, being imbued with lightning already and Tempest clearly couldn't use such an advanced spell.

“When I found the theory for this spell, I also found the fascinating theory about imbuing your own life force in a crystal. Practically giving you immortality, not like the one the Undeath grants, but true immortality, like the ones of the ancient arch dragons. Isn't that fascinating?”

Well, that was FAR more interesting.

“Wait, that's it!”, Ornstein exclaimed. “That was it what Seath had searched! A way to immortality! He surely has a crystal like this hidden somewhere!”

“It's just the question... where.”, Tempest said, gloomily looking around. “This place is large.”

Ornstein crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side which made his ponytail brush the ground: “Think more rational about this. Would you hide something like a crystal which holds your life essence directly next to you?”

Tempest shook his head: “No, I wouldn't. I probably would hide it somewhere where nobody would ever think to look. Still near enough that I can find it though...”

“I have the feeling Seath would hide a crystal in a crystal. And where have we seen many of his golems?”

“The gardens!”, Tempest exclaimed. “Where we could look down from the balconies!”

“It's just the question how we get there...”, Ornstein mused. “Maybe jumping down? You wouldn't survive this though.”

“Oh, I have seen another lever in here. Maybe it opens up a secret passage.”

Ornstein blinked before he stared at Tempest: “So why haven't you pulled the lever yet?!”

“Because you have said me I shouldn't pull levers without knowing what they do!”

Ornstein sighed. He indeed had Tempest told that. He put his helmet back on and got up, spear ready. “Let's... let's just go and see what the lever does.”

“I just stay here and continue my research. Come if you have the need for some sorceries.”, Logan mentioned before the two left for the lever. Tempest gave him a smile and a nod.

Soon the lever had been pulled and indeed some stairs appeared. When they went down these stairs, they got attacked by another crystal hollow who wasn't a match for their combined force. Tempest slowly crept forward, looking everywhere for hints of other enemies before stepping outside on a small balcony, shouting: “The gardens! That lever really led to them!” Ornstein followed his voice and let his gaze wander across the gardens.

“These are quite a few golems.”, he said. “That could be a hard piece of work dismantling them all. Let's get started, little storm.”

Without waiting Ornstein jumped down and landed perfectly on both of his feet like a cat would land on all four of its paws while Tempest decided to slid down the ladder. Ornstein already had the first golem engaged in battle when Tempest caught up and nearly got hit by an uppercut which he avoided with a dodge roll.

“Ornstein, do you really think we will find Seath's secret in one of the golems?”, he asked as he sliced across the golem's arm which made rainbows sparkle.

“It's our best guess for now.”, Ornstein drove his spear as deep in the golem's chest as he could, which still wasn't much. “This is a hassle with bladed weapons, but we have no other choice.”

The duo hacked their way through a few more crystal golems when they engaged one of the golden ones. “Another one of these?”, Ornstein murmured. “They are stronger than the rest, careful, little storm.”

“I know!”, Tempest called while jumping back so that a row of crystals couldn't hit him. Luckily, as Ornstein kept the golem busy from the front, Tempest managed to get a good hit on its back and the creature soon crumbled... and something came out.

Not the crystal they searched though, but an onion shaped knight. Tempest's eyes grew wide once he saw them.

“Siegmeyer?”, he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Siegmeyer? No.”, a woman's voice sounded tinny through the round helmet. “I am Sieglinde of Catarina. Siegmeyer is my father. Have you seen him?” Sieglinde got up and put the large sword she carried over her shoulder. “But first, I must thank you for my rescue. I don't know how I ended up in that crystal. It wasn't terrible in there, but I could hardly move. I should find a way to repay you both.”

“I don't need anything.”, Ornstein bluntly said which earned him a gloomy gaze from Tempest.

“She just tries to be nice.”, he said and then smiled at Sieglinde. “It's very nice to meet you, Sieglinde. I am Tempest and this is my companion, Ornstein. Please don't mind him, he usually is a bit grumpy.”

Ornstein huffed at this comment.

“It has been nice to meet you too.”, Sieglinde said and gave a small bow, however this had been possible in that onion shaped armour. “You have mentioned the name of my father, Siegmeyer? He wears the exact same suit of armour as me, so you couldn't have missed him.”

“Yes, indeed, I have met him several times. Though I don't know where he is right now.”, Tempest replied.

“Thank goodness! I knew he was here somewhere. Well then, now I must find him. Thanks again. Truly. Now if he'll just stay put, and keep out of trouble.”

After she had spoken these words, Sieglinde already was off.

“Staying out of trouble? Siegmeyer?”, Tempest rolled his eyes as he watched her disappear.

“Sounds like he usually draws trouble near.”, Ornstein mentioned.

“Oh, Ornstein, when you thought I was bad, you haven't met Siegmeyer! Every time I met him he was in some kind of a 'pickle' like he put it and only moved on after I cleared the way for him. The last time I met him in Anor Londo, when we trained. And he had already stood there before I fought you.”

“Wait... that has been weeks! He has stood there all these time without moving on?!”, Ornstein couldn't believe what he just had heard.

“Yes, but because of your training and because I used to parry practice the silver knights in the nights often, I managed to get rid of the ones in his way. He gave me a ring and the next night he was gone.”

“I am still not over the fact that there seems to be a person who is worse at this whole Undead thing than you are...”, Ornstein murmured. “Let's search further, we have found a person but we are searching for a crystal.”

“Understood.”, Tempest glanced back at the balcony where Sieglinde had vanished one last time before following Ornstein.

---

Ornstein didn't knew how much time had passed when they slew the last crystal golem in the garden.

“Nothing, really?”, Tempest fell on his rear with a thud, throwing his sword on the ground. “All this work and all we got were a few chunks?”

“...Maybe Seath didn't hid his crystal in a golem...”, Ornstein said, slowly turning around, scanning the area. “Or have we overlooked one of them...?” His eyes spotted another golem he nearly had overlooked because its body was standing on a ground made of solid crystals itself.

“Wait... there is another one.”, Ornstein pointed in the direction of the golem. Tempest was on his feet in an instant, bowed down to fumble for his sword and then rushed off.

“That's so typical for the little storm.”, Ornstein murmured to himself, following the small undead who engaged in combat with the crystal golem. At least he was doing pretty well on his own, after fighting all this golems in the garden he seemed to get a hang of it. After the golem fell, nothing popped out of it, but Tempest turned around and looked at a path that led down into some kind of cave.

“Ornstein... maybe Seath has hidden the crystal here.”, Tempest called, waving with his sword. “After all, we assumed that he would hide a crystal within another crystal! Why not put it in a place made out of crystals? That is the same as hiding a tree in a forest!”

“Indeed, you are on to something.”, Ornstein said and walked over to Tempest where he almost slipped and fell. That place was quite slippery. Ornstein decided to pay better attention to where he set both of his feet. Tempest didn't seem to have that much trouble, but Ornstein guessed that his leather boots were more grippy than Ornstein's plate ones.

After Ornstein had caught up, they continued on the path. It soon made a sharp turn which Tempest followed, dropping down a little ledge. He waited for Ornstein securely landing next to him before pointing up at a Moonlight Butterfly.

“I fought one of these in the Darkroot Garden.”, he said. “I thought that had been the only one...”

“Moonlight Butterfly, a creation of Seath.”, Ornstein explained. “A bug that can use moonlight magic with the help of its horn. They are territorial, so if you don't get too close, they leave you alone.”

“That is good to hear. I am not too eager fighting one of them again.”, Tempest said, gaze wandering over the cave. “Or five. They are an awful lot of them here.”

He continued on walking carefully at the edge of the crystalline path but coming back once he reached its end.

“Strange, the path ends here.”, he murmured. “But I can see the path continuing over there.” Tempest pointed at the mentioned direction. “There must be a way to get over there? I mean, without being able to fly.”

Ornstein squinted at the path in the distance. There was another crystal golem on it. It must have been able to come there somehow. Also, something felt off. He heard this tinkling sound but there wasn't water near and it also didn't rain... Then he noticed it.

There was some crystalline snow falling from the cave ceiling and the snow very clearly landed on a solid path. Sold, but invisible. “Little storm, there is a path there.”, Ornstein said. “We just need to take a step forward.”

Tempest stared at Ornstein as if he had lost all his marbles. “This would be a fall that certainly would kill me. And you too.”

“Trust me on that.”, Ornstein said and indeed took a step forward, his foot hitting a solid path. “See?”, Ornstein said, dragging the second foot along. “There is a path. You just have to walk where the snow hits it.”

Tempest had gotten big eyes when he saw Ornstein step into the seemingly bottomless pit but didn't fell. He hesitantly came forward and followed Ornstein until they had crossed the invisible path in a painfully slow pace. Even though there was a path there, didn't mean that it was safe. It still went down very deep both sides on it and it was rather narrow.

“That was intense.”, Tempest said as he released a breath he had been holding for some time.

“I have to say, stuff like this is typical for Seath.”, Ornstein murmured.

Tempest already had his eyes on the golden golem. “There always has been something in them!”, he shouted and rushed into battle. Ornstein sighed, got his spear into position and wanted to help the little storm just as he misplaced a roll and tumbled down the edge, the surprised scream of the small Undead tingling in Ornstein's ears.

“Seriously?!”, Ornstein exclaimed. The golden golem now devoid of his usual prey, had taken a rather large interest in him. Ornstein knew he would be able to fight it, but the fact that the fall in case of a mistake was very deep and that he surely had to escort the idiot back again to this place once he had came back to life as the bonfire, made Ornstein retreat for now. He found the path back only to notice that the golden golem followed him.

At least now Ornstein could lure it to a place where it was easier to fight. Once the dragon slayer had crossed the path back, he picked up the fight against the golem and won even though he managed to slip and fall pretty hard on his rear once he delivered the final blow.

At least the little storm hadn't been there to see this.

Oh well, time to head back to the bonfire.

When Tempest finished reappearing (a quite fascinating process to watch), Ornstein was about to open his mouth to scold Tempest, but the raspy voice of his hollowed out form was the first to speak: “...That death was idiotic! Now Ornstein surely will call me an idiot again...”

“I was just about too.”, Ornstein replied, making Tempest wince like a dog that had been caught stealing food from the kitchen.

“Oh, Ornstein, you are here?”, he whimpered.

“Of course. I was asked to escort you. I have to stay at your side for this.”

“I guess...”, Tempest rummaged around for a humanity. Ornstein watched with fascination as the small black sprite vanished and merged with Tempest's skin. Only a short while later, he had his human face back.

“I try and take better care now...”, he said and stood up.

“So, did the fall hurt?”, Ornstein asked.

“Oh, you don't even know!”

---

As they stood back at the entrance to the garden, Tempest whined when he saw that all the crystal golems had reformed: “Do we have to fight all of them AGAIN?”

“No, I scouted the area when I went back to the bonfire.”, Ornstein replied. “When we go left right after we come the balcony, we will reach the crystal area again. We still have to fight a few of them, but not all of them.”

“Let's go then.”, Tempest already slid down the ladder.

A short while later they had returned to their previous location right before the invisible path. Tempest had his eyes on a certain location. “I want to get all these souls back.”, he said.

“Souls?”, Ornstein asked. “Oh, you mean your soul power? Oh right, I forgot that you Undead carry them around and have to channel them through a bonfire.”

Tempest stared at Ornstein with wide eyes. “Wait, you tell me that isn't the norm?!”

“No, not at all.”, Ornstein explained. “Normally, anything you kill will give you their soul power and your own soul absorbs it. The more soul power you have, the bigger you usually get. There is a way to control this process though or we all would have the size of giants.”

“Wait, that's the reason you are so huge?”, Tempest seemed to be in awe.

“Yes.”, Ornstein simply said and then continued. “Though I have been bigger than you already before I gained my soul power. Anyway, for you Undead, it is different. Any soul power you gain desperately tries to fill the hollowness in your dark sign, so you work as walking soul pouches.”

“...That kind of makes sense...”, Tempest murmured. “But right now I don't have any souls with me, they are all there where I died!”

“I can't see anything...”, Ornstein murmured, trying very hard to spot what Tempest mentioned. Souls normally would have a white shimmer to it or a golden, when it was a lord soul. Or be black and wrong, when it was an abyss corrupted soul.

“Maybe you can't see it like I do...”, Tempest said. “It looks like a blood stain. It won't stay there forever. I only managed to pick up any lost souls when I didn't die again.”

“So you shouldn't fall again.”, Ornstein stated and Tempest nodded.

“How shall we fight this thing?”, Tempest pointed at the golden golem.

“Little storm, when you were busy being transported to the bonfire, what did you think I had to do. Deal with an angry golden golem while being painfully aware that a fall of this height would be the end for me.”

Tempest scraped the ground with his foot, gaze averted: “Sorry.”

“Let's lure him here where there is more room, that is how I won the first time.”

“Wait, you already won? What was in the golem?”

“Surprisingly, nothing.”

“Damn.”, Tempest said as he got his bow and arrow ready. “I will shoot at it so it will come over.”

Ornstein nodded. That was a good plan. The golem's were constructs and so not exactly known for their brains that they obviously didn't possess. It took Tempest's a few tries to get the arrows fly right, but once the first one had hit the golem, it turned around and straight up jumped into the abyss below.

“Hah, I am not the only one being an idiot!”, Tempest cheered.

“That certainly was easier than fighting them.”, Ornstein mentioned. “Come, let's move on, we have a crystal to find.”

Navigating the invisible bridges turned out to be more difficult the farther they got into the caves, with the snow being nearly invisible. Eventually Tempest pulled out some prism stones and marked the way with them. Tempest seemed like he wanted to try and go a bit further, attempting to follow the more entwined paths, but he ran out of prism stones quickly and Ornstein deterred him from straying from the chosen path.

Soon the both stood in a rather wild field, looking around for clues.

That didn't last long though as a gigantic clam with legs came rushing towards them. “What the...?”, Tempest said and picked up his sword with both hands, apparently thinking that his shield would be worthless for this fight. Ornstein, too, got into a battle stance and prepared the lightning powers of his spear when Tempest got tossed high into the air.

Ornstein bit back a curse and unleashed a fury of sparks at the clam. Like he thought, the creature didn't take kindly to this attack and so Ornstein was able to catch Tempest before he could impact with the floor.

“Th.. thank you.”, Tempest gasped.

“I only saved you because I didn't want to take another trip back from the bonfire.”, Ornstein said and lowered Tempest onto the ground. As Ornstein was busy determining if that clam was dead or just unconscious from the shock, Tempest turned around.

“Um, Ornstein?”, he said.

“What?”

Ornstein twirled around only to see Tempest pointing dumbfounded at a whole group of clams. Apparently their fight apparently at least three of four more of them. “Oh, for crying out loud!”, Ornstein cursed and hurled Tempest behind him as he collected the energy for a miracle in his left hand.

Ornstein completely knew that his miracles weren't as mighty anymore as they used to be. Especially the ones granted from the Sunfirstborn. But his faith was still strong enough to let a lightning spear hit all the clams at once which spasmed from the shock of the element.

“Now, little storm.”, Ornstein said and took his own spears in both hands to finish one of them off. He could see out of the corner of his helmet that Tempest did the same next to him.

Once all the clams laid dead on the ground before them, Tempest stood there heavily breathing before his eyes got all sparkly: “That was AWESOME!”

“What?”, Ornstein said, taking a step back. “That was nothing. My miracles used to be much much stronger.”

“Are you kidding me? You managed to strike them all at once! And you tell me that wasn't your full power?” Tempest looked from the clams to Ornstein and back to the clams.

“I haven't been at my full power for some time now...”, Ornstein replied, scanning the area if there were some other clams left. He couldn't spot any. What he could spot though, was the end of the cave.

“Is this a dead end?”, he said and moved forward.

“Oh please no, I don't want to have come here for finding nothing at all...”, Tempest groaned, stumbling behind Ornstein. Apparently he had gotten one or two hits in the fight with the clams. He pulled out his Estus flask to take a sip.

“How much is left?”, Ornstein wanted to know.

“About half.”, Tempest replied as he put the Estus flask back.

In the meantime, the both of them had arrived at the end of the cave, which actually was some kind of clearing, with the sun peeking through the opening, making the crystals glisten.

“This place is kind of beautiful.”, Tempest said as he walked around, taking in the view. “In fact, a lot of things must have been beautiful once, before...” He didn't finish the sentence but Ornstein knew what he wanted to say. “Just... what happened here? Ornstein, you have been there, right?”

“That's a long story and we don't have time for this now.”, Ornstein said, a warning growl in his voice. “Let's see if we can find this...” Ornstein stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted the very large crystal right in front of his nose. “...crystal.”

“This must be it!”, he exclaimed. “When we break this crystal, we should be able to attack Seath. Let me destroy it and then we head back to the archives.”

Ornstein readied his spear to smash the crystal into bits, totally expecting to need more than one hit. While his spear could slice boulders with ease, crystals tended to be harder. However, just as he was about to swing, the crystal made an ear shattering piercing sound and Tempest voice sounded: “Uh, I don't think we have to head back to Seath...”

Before Ornstein could ask what this meant, he heard the flap of wings and the angry hiss of the paledrake, which apparently had been alarmed by the noise the crystal made and tossed his large body onto the ground of the cave. “Shit!”, Ornstein hissed through clenched teeth. “Tempest, you have to distract him somehow, while I try and break this crystal!”

“Understood!”, Tempest said and Ornstein put his attention back on the crystal, hitting it full force. Like expected, it didn't shatter but at least a crack had formed. He could hear Seath roar behind him and the sounds of the paledrake indicated that he came closer to his location. What was Tempest doing? Ornstein yanked his head around to see Tempest laying on the ground in what could only be described as a seductive pose.

“...What are you doing, idiot?”, Ornstein shrieked at this ridiculousness.

“Hey, you said you wouldn't lay down lascivious on the ground!”, Tempest screamed back.

“This won't work anymore, he's long gotten mad!”, Ornstein yelled.

“Yeah and then why has the dragon stopped attacking?”

Ornstein suddenly was very aware that Seath was still very much in between them and slowly turned his head to look up at Seath. The paledrake hadn't stopped attacking. Instead, he was preparing a breath attack.

“Take cover!”, Ornstein screamed at Tempest and jumped behind Seath himself, where a breath attack would never be able to hit. During this opportunity he bore his spear deep into the tail of Seath, but the wound healed instantly.

“That bastard, he really has bound his life force to this crystal.”, Ornstein murmured and put his attention back to it. “Tempest, just... survive long enough for me to break that crystal.”

“I'll try but I cannot promise anything!”, Tempest yelled back. Ornstein could hear the sound of a small Undead circling the paledrake. Hopefully Seath would let himself distract long enough for Ornstein to break the crystal. He reached his weapon back and aimed for the crack in the crystal. It didn't completely suffice. Ornstein prepared a lunge and just as he jumped down on the crystal and it shattered Tempest was hurled at him, which made Ornstein fall over.

“Oh damn.”, he said and struggled to get up. They still had a dragon to fight. Ornstein expected Tempest to get up on his own and heal himself with his Estus, but nothing happened. And right now, Seath seemed to be pissed that his crystal was destroyed, clearly preparing a devastating spell.

Ornstein glanced over at Tempest. He wasn't dead or he would turn into ashes, but he surely looked more dead than alive, probably just hanging at a sliver of his health, blood seeped out from a large wound on his head. Ornstein chucked Tempest over his shoulder and run away as far as he could in the limited room. As crystals emerged, Ornstein laid Tempest on the ground and fiddled for his Estus flask, forcing some of the liquid down his throat. The little Undead gasped as the liquid reached its destination and then coughed up some blood.

“Sorry, Ornstein, he got me with his tail...”

“Apologize later! For now, we have a dragon to slay!” Ornstein took his spear in both hands. “And this one I wanted to slay for a long time now!”

Ornstein practically threw himself into the battle, lunging forward and then elegantly twirled around as Seath tried to swipe at him, a thrust going directly into the tail of the paledrake. Seath screamed in pain and Ornstein knew, the crystal indeed had been his weak point. He was vulnerable now.

“Little storm, attack him!”, Ornstein screamed and the little Undead ran forward, slicing one of Seath's tentacles with his sword. Hot dragon blood splattered out of the wound and Seath's attention was brought back to Tempest. Ornstein used the opportunity to get another thrust into the tail and another as the paledrake was torn between taking care of his attacker from the front or the one tormenting his tail. While Ornstein managed to slowly sever the tail Tempest wasn't idle and constantly sliced a new wound in any part of Seath's body that wasn't covered in crystals.

Eventually Ornstein finally managed to get the tail loose right as Seath finally had decided for an attack and slammed both of his tentacles down hard on the ground. Ornstein managed to get out of the way, Tempest wasn't so lucky but this time managed to drink from his Estus himself.

Blood gushed out Seath from several wounds and especially the severed tail. Ornstein was sure he was weakened enough now to not be able to counter a direct attack to his head.

“Watch a dragon slayer at work.”, he said, jumping on Seath's back and from there to his neck, his spear driving deep into it, forcing the paledrake's head to the ground which shrieked in pain and protest.

“Finish him off.”, Ornstein commanded Tempest. He would have liked to do it himself, but the lord soul was supposed to go to the Undead, not him. Tempest didn't had to be asked twice before he reached out with his sword and bore it deep into the forehead of Seath.

The paledrake shrieked in agony and pain for a few seconds before he stopped moving and kept laying bleeding and beat on the ground. Ornstein casually removed his spear with one hand from the neck and hopped from his back.

Tempest just stood there, breathing heavily. “That was... intense...”, he said, before opening his hand and staring at the golden glowing shard of a lord soul. “Is that it...? That's the...?”, he asked, staring at Ornstein, practically vibrating.

“Yes, that is a shard of Lord Gwyn's soul of fire.”, Ornstein replied. “Seath has gotten a rather large part of it, so it should be enough to satisfy the lordvessel.”

“...”, Tempest seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Shouldn't you be happy about your victory?”, Ornstein asked.

Tempest shook his head. “Without you I would have died again. Probably over and over. I thought I had died when he got me with the tail, but when I came back too, you were there. Ornstein... thank you. I wouldn't have been able to do it without your help.”

Ornstein would have been lying when he would have said that wasn't touched by this. The little storm genuinely meant this words. He felt himself blush under his helmet, however, the words that came out from him were blatantly different from his feelings: “I.. I just help you because Gwyndolin ordered me too. That's all.”

“I know.”, Tempest said. Ornstein was surprised to see that a grin had formed on his face. “I am still glad that you are here. Just take a compliment when you get one.”

That hit right in Ornstein's chest. Not only did Tempest look so cute when he grinned like that, also the words he had spoken... even though that he knew that Ornstein was doing all this only because he had been ordered too, he still was grateful. Ornstein suddenly felt very bad for the fate that the small Undead would suffer.

Now that the fight was over, all adrenaline seemed to leave the little storm's body and he plopped down near the newly appeared bonfire. He glanced over where the severed tail of Seath was laying.

“Ornstein, why were you so eager to cut off this tail?”, Tempest asked.

“Because...”, Ornstein started, searching for the right words. “Because... I always wanted to cut off his tail. Granted, not this tail, but he didn't had the other one when in dragon form.”

“What...?”, Tempest stared at Ornstein with squinted eyes.

“I can explain you this another time.”, Ornstein said, strolling over to the severed tail. “Looking at this, I think it may form a weapon.” He bent down and picked the tail up, grabbing for the bone and pulling something out that was a great sword which glowed with a green shimmer.

“A magic weapon...”, Ornstein said. “Why did Seath had this in his tail? It probably formed when he crystallized himself.” Ornstein came over to Tempest and set the sword down. “Keep it, if you want. I don't think you have much use for it though.”

“I totally will keep it!”, Tempest said maybe a little too quick. Ornstein stared at him with furrowed brows. Even though the small Undead couldn't see his face through the lionet helmet, it seemed to come through.

“It's just... I want to keep it as a trophy. Besides...”

“Besides what?”

“Oh nothing.”

As he said that, Tempest had kind of a blissful smile on his face. Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/187554662479/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-15-fandom-dark

#dark souls #fanfiction #dragon slayer ornstein #chosen undead #orndead #oc tempest #littlewritesstuff

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twtd11 · 5 years

Note

A for A Magic All Its Own and E to J for Something's Telling Me It Might Be You (still singing this title btw)

A. How did you come up with a title to A Magic All Its Own?

So, I looked up a bunch of quotes about royalty and just scrolled and scroll for a really long time until I ran across one that is something like, “Royalty is different than celebrity. Royalty has a magic all its own,” and it just struck me as being so perfect for the story because I was taking out the magic but there was still something magical about it.

E. If you wrote a sequel to Something’s Telling Me... what would it be about? Hecate and Pippa’s wedding. It wouldn’t be a long sequel but I already know what happens. Pippa wants Hecate to buy a house with her where they stop traveling between their places and because Pippa thinks they should have something that’s just about them. Hecate keeps resisting for almost a year because it took her forever to find a house with the perfect location and she’s happy there, damn it. Anyway, Pippa gets a tip that a Frank Llyod Wright house (or something else architecturally significant) is coming on the market and manages to tempt Hecate with that. Hecate makes a comment about how it’s easier to buy joint property when you’re married and Pippa takes it as a proposal. That’s how they get engaged.

Because they need to do it fast, Pippa suggests just going to the courthouse and Hecate gets all upset because 1. she thought she’d get to enjoy herself shooting down Pippa’s ridiculous wedding ideas and 2. she really does want to stand up in front of their friends/family and declare her love for Pippa because she’s done it in front of the whole country and she’d like to do it somewhere a bit more emotionally significant.

They compromise by getting married at the courthouse because they really do need to move fast because of the house and then they have a beautiful wedding later once they have time to plan one.

F. Share a dialogue scene your proud of. I just answered that one and I’m sticking with that answer for now.

G. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write your scenes out of order? For short things, in order. For Something’s Telling Me... completely out of order. For half of the writing process, I knew what happened in the past and had no clue what happened in the present so I just wrote a bunch of the past stuff first. And I knew how it ended a long time before I knew what the middle looked like, so parts of the last chapter and the epilogue were written really early.

H. How would you describe your style? I have no fucking clue. I think my writing is very... utilitarian? Like, I don’t use a lot of description or a lot of extra language. I just do enough to tell the story I want to tell. I’m always trying to improve my writing, so I hope it’s evolving as I go along.

I. Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)? Nope. None of my pleasures are guilty. I embrace them all! Apparently, in my long AUs, I have a thing for big, public announcements! And I love subverting fanon, taking whatever people have decided a character is about and seeing if I can interpret it in a new way (though I spend a lot of time writing within the fanon too). Like, almost everyone has decided Hecate is a bottom, and I love that and I write a ton of it, but I also feel compelled to know what she’s like if she’s the one in charge. Do those count as guilty pleasures?

J. Write or describe an alternate ending to Something’s Telling Me... Uhhhhh... Originally there was another chapter where Hecate and Pippa went on the press tour for the movie together and there were all sorts of rumors about them being together and the journalists wanted to ask about them and Pippa and Hecate kept deflecting and eventually, Hecate gives the little speech she gives to Ryan Seacrest on The Today Show or Good Morning America or something like that. Sadly, the whole chapter seemed superfluous so I cut it.

Here’s a bit that got cut that I miss: "The love of your life, hmmm?" Pippa asked over the telephone.

"You already knew that," Hecate responded. The noise from the cab filtered in through the earpiece.

"Yes, but a girl never gets tired of hearing it. Thank you, by the way, for putting the entire onus of fielding relationship questions on me. My twitter has exploded in the last 10 minutes. And what has your twitter done? Oh, that's right, you haven't got one." Pippa laughed. Though Pippa couldn't see her, Hecate rolled her eyes fondly.

"Are you still in the hotel room?"

"Mmmhmm, just waiting for room service to bring breakfast. If you get back quickly, there might be one of those chocolate croissants you fancy waiting for you."

"I haven't–" Hecate got out of the cab as Pippa interrupted her.

"Any idea what I'm talking about. Yes, I know." Pippa smiled audibly. "Just get back here. I have to start prepping for The Tonight Show soon, and I want to see you before I have to go," Pippa said.

"I'm already in the lobby," Hecate replied. She stepped into the elevator that would take her up to their hotel room and to Pippa.

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venusori · 5 years

Text

Stars in the Making Chapter 1

Hello all~ Please like and reblog if you enjoy! This is a Zen x MC acting fic!

Also uploaded on my wattpad and ao3

I wait in line patiently, signing in my name once I make it to the front. There are so many people here… and I’ll make sure to be the best. We all are auditioning for the same musical: Pirates of Penzance.

I had played in it in high school as one of the policemen, and I’m excited about the chance to play in it again since it is one of my favorite plays. As I examine the competition, a lump forms in my throat.

I pull out a mirror and re-apply my lipstick and touch up my hair. I take a couple of deep breaths and feel my confidence come back. I put the mirror away and wait for my name to be called.

I meet with some of the other people auditioning, picking up their phone numbers while waiting. There is one man in particular who I give my number to that sticks out. He has vibrant red eyes and long, silver hair. He stays in my mind even when I chat with the others auditioning.

I pull out a mirror and re-apply my lipstick and touch up my hair. I take a couple of deep breaths and feel my confidence come back. I put the mirror away and wait for my name to be called.

“Next, MC,” a tired-sounding man says from the other end of the room. I stand up and walk to the door with my sheet music for the accompanist. I shake the director's hand, and pass the sheet music to the accompanist, with the measures I need her to play marked for her.

I walk to the stage, stand center downstage, facing the director, and wait for instruction.

The director cues the pianist, and I begin singing a passage from Regina Spektor’s “Eet,” getting lost in the music, tapping my toe inside my shoe to the beat.

The rest of the audition goes smoothly. I am very confident in my skill. I leave the theater and get into my car to drive home, anxiously waiting for cast results.

A week later, I check the official website, anxiously searching for the cast list. I decide to read it bottom up when I find it, looking at the minor roles before the major roles.

Slowly, I read the cast list. Not seeing my name anywhere towards the bottom, I checked the lead roles, scared I didn't make the cut.

There it is. I made it as Mabel! My heart jumps with excitement. I scan the cast list again, barely believing my eyes. I pinch my arm - it's real!

Immediately after I begin to calm down, I receive a phone call from someone I had met at the auditions. Zen.

“Hello?”

“Hello, ah... were you cast as Mabel for Pirates of Penzance?” I hear a nervous voice on the other end.

“Yes! That's me,” I say, unable to help my grin. Hearing someone else say that I had gotten the role made it feel all the more real. “My name is MC. I’m assuming you’re Zen?”

“Haha, that's me!” He says, excitement in his voice. “Look, I like to get to know my fellow actors before the show, and I was wondering if you would like to hang out sometime?”

Very forward. “Ah… sure,” I say. “If you’d like, you could come over to my place? We could get a head start on the lines. I am free anytime until the play starts - I like to focus on one production at a time.”

“Of course,” he says, calmer than before. “Anytime you would like to meet, I would be happy to see you.”

“I’ll text you my information in a bit,” I say.

“Mmhm. Talk to you then!”

We say our goodbyes. I pull out my laptop and do a bit of research on Zen. I type his name into the search engine to see a Wikipedia page on him. I read through and get a general idea of what he is like and of his past and such. I decide he is safe enough to invite over, and I text him my address.

I take a look around my home. I need to clean up a bit before he comes over, as well as make dinner. I tell him to come over at around five thirty and to bring some games if he had any. I jump up to start working on the house, cleaning up whatever mess there is.

I run around the house, making sure everything looks perfect. I then start to work on making dinner for the two of us. I want to make a good impression. I decide to make alfredo, since I can make it quick. I begin working on the dish, singing along to some music playing on my phone and turning the cooking process into a dance.

After about forty five minutes, I hear a knock on my door. I rush to turn my music off and run to the door. I look out the peephole and see it's him. Zen. I feel a rush of anxiety as I go to open the door. What if he isn’t a good person? What if I find out I hate him and don’t want to act with him? I shake my head, put on a smile, and open the door. He greets me first.

“Hello, beautiful MC,” he says. I open the door wider to allow him in. “You don't have any cats, right?”

I shake my head, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he steps in, setting a green bag down on the floor next to where he takes his shoes off. “Fur allergy?”

“Just cats,” he says.

I nod. “Well, I made dinner. Does pasta work?”

“You didn't have to cook for me!” He exclaims, surprised. With a flirtatious edge to his words, he adds, “But I certainly won't say no to a lady’s cooking.”

“Come with me.” I smile and lead him into the kitchen. I tell him to sit at the dining table while I dish his plate for him.

“Treating me like royalty! It's you who should be treated like a princess,” he says.

“Well, then, good sir, will you be my prince?” I ask, an idea forming in my head. Zen blushes lightly. Before he could speak, I say, “Or will you be my pirate who attempts to slay my father?”

He stands up, changing his demeanor instantly. “Good Mabel, it was not my choice, for it was my duty!”

“Ha, you said duty,” I joke. “Sit, I’m not there yet!”

He sits back down in his seat and watches me intently. I reach into a drawer and pull out two forks, grab the plates, and walk over to the table. I set his plate and his fork down in front of him.

“It smells wonderful. Thank you,.” he says.

I smile and nod. “Do you pray before eating?”

“I’m atheist - I only believe in one god, and that would be me,” He says, a playful tone in his voice. “Do you?”

“Only before a show,” I explain. “I don't believe in any god, but I do believe that if the cast wants to pray, then I will pray with them.”

“Cast prayers get interesting sometimes.” He chuckles, taking a bite. “‘Please, do not let Allan slip on the papers scattered on the ground again.’”

“That one has nothing on one I've heard - ‘God, please bless the cast to not spill their water backstage and nearly kill me,’” I quote. “A lot of salt in that prayer.”

“Tell me it wasn't you who spilled,” he says.

“No, I follow the rules, promise,” I say, raising my hands defensively. “Does it taste alright?”

Zen nods. “It's wonderful. It's, like, Olive Garden quality.”

“Ooh, comparing my last minute cooking to Olive Garden? Suck up,” I joke.

“Not a suck up,” he says. “It does taste nice.”

I stand up, remembering that I forgot to offer him a drink. “Water?” I ask, walking to my fridge to grab two bottles of water. I step back and hand him one.

He thanks me, grabbing the water and setting it down next to his plate.

The two of us finish up quickly, excited to get to know each other better. After finishing, I take his dish and set it next inside the sink for later. We head into the living room.

“So, I brought some cards. Do you know the game Trash?” He asks. I nod - it is a well-loved game of mine, seeing as I always teach my fellow actors to play it to keep their minds busy before the performance and to help ease nerves.

“One of my favorite games. Wanna sit on the floor?” I ask, grabbing some pillows off the couch to sit on. He takes one, thanking me.

“One requirement,” I say. “I can't shuffle.. Would you?”

“Of course, lovely Mabel,” he jokes, and starts to shuffle. “Wanna mix the game up a bit?”

“How so?” I ask.

“When I move on to the next number, I must answer a question that the other person asks me. But it has to be safe for work.”

I chuckle. “Sure, since this is to get to know each other, yeah?”

He passes me my stack of cards to lay out on the floor. I lay out the cards in front of me, preparing a list of questions in my head.

A round passes quickly. I win and move on to nine cards. Zen gets to ask me a question now.

“Hm… any superstitions, besides the normal ones, such as the ‘Scottish play’?” he asks.

“Hmmm..” I think for a moment. “I never request a mic. Otherwise, something bad with the mics will happen. If they give me one, cool. But I will never ask to get one.”

“Is there a story about that?” He asks.

“Ooh, that sounds like another question for when I win again,” I tease, passing him my cards so he can shuffle the cards into the deck. He repeats the earlier process, passing me my stack of nine cards, keeping ten for himself. He sets the deck in the center. Since I win, it is his turn to go first.

I win the round, but he flips his cards and re-arranges the wild cards in front of him on his turn. Both of us get to ask a question.

“You ask first, since I am the one who won first,” I state.

“Favorite animal?” He asks.

“I like dogs a lot, never been much of a cat person. But if we are talking about non-pet animals, I love puffins… or seahorses, if they count,” I say thoughtfully. He looks at me intently, clearly interested in my answer. I think of a question to ask him. “Hmm… pre-show routine?”

“Depends on the show,” he says. “I mainly do musicals, so I steam my voice and do lots of stretches. For a play, I will generally try and focus more on the co-actors and make sure they're doing well, since I don't want to do any line rehearsing the day of the show. I show them a photo my friend took that always helps calm my nerves.”

“Very kind, helping my other actors,” I say. “I like that.”

I end up learning a lot about him, from things to his favorite color to his morning routine. He also finds out things about me, like my favorite flower and my natural hair color. I regularly dye my hair, sometimes for roles, but also sometimes for a fun color while I’m not in any productions. Of course, he gives me a lecture about how that will damage my hair, but I shrug it off, already knowing how it goes after hearing it a million times. I take great care of my hair other than that, so it feels alright anyway.

After playing the card game, I decide to watch the movie that is based on the show we will be performing.

I pulled the movie up on my TV. Pirates of Penzance, (1983). We both had seen it before, so I decide I would sing along with my parts. After hearing him in other shows, I am excited how he would use his voice to portray the character.

The two of us have a blast practicing. From start to finish, we sing every song and spoke our individual lines. We help each other with each other’s parts as best as we can, and when one is in a duet or trio, the other sings the other part for them. I have a fun time singing as Ruth a few times for him. He struggles to pull off Sargent in a few spots, but he enjoys it nonetheless. The two of us thoroughly enjoy acting the other parts - I make a great deputy.

When the movie ends, we are still smiling from our practice. We both are even more excited for rehearsal. I can’t wait to practice other actions with him - but for now, just singing it together is enough.

Am I beginning to fall in love with my co-star?

No. That's against the rules! I would get kicked from my roles.

Plus, I don't like him that way. Right? There certainly hasn't been enough time for me to like him.

Anyways, it would be bad for my career if I were to have a thing for him.

The two of us finish up for the night, since it was about eight, and it’s rude to keep anyone past that time, unless we’re romantically involved. He leaves, saying it’s time for the process to rest.

I go to bed with thoughts filling my head. Thoughts of Zen. How can I work well with him on my mind like this?

#Mystic messenger #MC #Zen #Hyun Ryu

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loverknj · 6 years

Text

Lover Joon

PAIRING: Kim Namjoon X Reader

WARNINGS: Fiancé Joon, fluff, fluff and more fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.9k words

A/N: omg I really didn’t know what to name it, so i just called it lover joon aka my url aahhaha, but this fic is inspired by the recent events in my life and writing it made me super duper happy and i really hope you guys enjoy it ♡ also, do let me know if you guys want more because I’m planning on doing more parts to fiancé joon ♡♡♡♡

“Do you think it could work?”

Your sentence halts off all the conversation and chatter in the room, and you blush even further when you notice you now had 100% attention of the man seated beside you, for he had indeed paused his conversation, choosing to instead watch you with a curious glint in his eyes.

Swiftly sending him a reassuring smile and a simple shake of your head, you urge namjoon to go back to his discussion as you did the same, now in a softer tone, hoping that whatever you were discussing would not reach his ears. “As I was saying, the painting labour, I was thinking of maybe of cutting it down and using that money for the marble counter instead... How much was the rate again?”

But despite the hushed whispers and quiet mumbles, each syllable, each letter, every single word that escapes your mouth still reaches his eardrums, and the frown on Namjoons face only further deepens as he sits there and silently listened to you convey your ideas to the interior designer in front of you.

Ideas that he was currently not happy about.

Cause he knows what you’re doing again; for it is the same discussion that was the cause of all the slight bickering in the household for the past few days, the exact same one that you couldn’t seem to let go, making you spit out random ideas here and there which come to mind, hoping that at least one of them would help help you both stay within the budget you had estimated for the renovation of the new house.

From not purchasing toilet roll holders to using cheaper tiles, every single one of your ideas have been rejected by Namjoon; but right now, it seems that your creative juices have come out with another which involved the painting labour...

For you were not comfortable with Namjoon spending so much money at one go, no matter how rich he was as you don’t need a fancy house, you only need him; while there’s Namjoon, who wants nothing more than to give you your dream house, with all the marble tiles, rose gold kitchen utensils, cacti, glass windows you could ever dream of, that even if it meant spending his entire fortune.

He would.

Because he loves you, more than you could ever imagine, and seeing and making you happy was something he had promised himself when he got down on one knee months ago. And fast forward to now, where you both are happily engaged, busily preparing for the wedding happening in June whilst settling all the renovations for the new Kim family house, he can’t help but let out a wrinkled eye smile at his stubbornly adorable lover and

“Painting labour? Hmmm I guess that would work.” But as the designer, Ms.Hong ruffled through her stack of papers and mumbled out the price, Namjoon finally decided to intervene as he cleared his throat and reached his hand towards yours.

“Honey,” he sighed, “We do not need to cut down on painting costs, we can afford that dream marble counter of yours and everything else just fine.” entangling your hands with his, he brought it to his lips, and gave it a little peck.

“Plus, who’s going to paint the rooms if you do that hmm?” he asked jokingly as he sends you an amused look, which evaporates immediately when you volunteer yourself for the task and blurt out a “Me?” causing Namjoon to tense.

It had been a repeated process of pregnant pauses, sighs, lets out a chuckle and shakes of his head until he coughed out a ‘no’, “No, absolutely not, love. I’m going to be busy for the next couple of months with the album and all,” namjoon waved his hands, as if he was trying to remind you by diverting your attention towards your surroundings: a BigHit conference room you both had decided as the most ideal location for the brief meeting due to Namjoon’s extremely busy schedule.

“and well,” he continued with a tight smile on his face, “the ceilings are much too high baby.” And instantly, he’s reminded of the reason why he bought that place 6 years ago, way before he had met you, way before he knew you’d mean so much to him ,way, way before he realised how this place, which initially acted as only an investment was now going to be the place where his family will live. Thanking the high ceilings, spacious rooms and the stunning night view which had attracted him in the first place.

“I know you’re tall and can definitely do an amazing job but I’m not exactly comfortable with you climbing on ladders and being exposed to the toxic fumes.” And when he notices the determined look on your face flatter slightly, he turns his entire body towards you, not paying slight attention to the two interior designers in front, “it’s going to take forever for such a tiny person to paint all of the walls in the house, and anyways, you’re much too busy with the wedding preparations and work, I don’t want you to overwork yourself before the big day, love.”

With a slight nod, you reluctantly give in to your logical fiancé, pursing your lips into a pout when you feel his lips on the top of your head. But the sight of his bright, dazzling smile which he flashes you after extinguishes any doubt and worries inside you, making you feel content instead because love…

Love makes you selfless. Just like how Namjoon would willingly give you everything you wanted just for to make you happy, and how he’d do anything in the world, cross any mountain or ocean just for that smile and angelic laugh; and right now, if it meant giving in to him, so be it, you could do that. You’d do anything for him.

Because you love him too.

“So,” one of the designers cleared her throat, “I’m assuming there would be no changes made to the painting of the walls then?” and when Namjoon shakes his head, no, she sends a delighted beam towards both your directions and continues confirming the choices of the wall colours for all the 4 rooms, professionally pointing out the colour palettes spread out on the table.

“The studio walls would be in this shade and plastered with soundproof equipment, as per requested by Mr.Kim and the shelves, along with the working desk, chairs and sofas will be the ones I had emailed to you last week. I had recently spoke to the wireless speaker company as well and they already emailed me a quote which I had forwarded to-…” Your thoughts trailed off as Namjoon discussed the minor details of MonStudio 2 with the designers and the only thing you could think about there and then was the amount Namjoon was spending on everything…

From the extravagant wedding which was going to be the talk of the town for a few weeks and all over social media, to the honeymoon across Europe Namjoon had secretly planned, hoping to bring you to your favourite place in the entire world: Rome and now to the house which is looking to cost much more that you like, especially with Namjoon wanting to give you everything in the entire world, heck you could ask for a toilet bowl made of gold from Dubai and he would have gladly imported it no matter the cost....

“We don’t need all these, joon ah” sprawled out on the couch, with your back against his chest and his arm lying lazily against your stomach, you had mumbled out, slipping through the countless receipts, cringing internally when you saw the price of each item.

$2000 for a chandelier? Oh god.

It had been a rare day off for namjoon and both of you had decided to take the chance to go window shopping for furniture before meeting the interior designers; but you never expected to come back home with a bunch of receipts instead, each for items ranging from chandeliers, coffee machines, dining tables to bathtubs...

Biting back a curse, you tossed the papers aside and threw yours into the arms of the chuckling man, “We could have just gotten like a simple lamp from Ikea for ten times less the price. We don’t need that, or the bathtubs…. or the-”

He cuts you off with a peck on the back of your head and a tight squeeze, “The chandler is for the walk in wardrobe in the master, I remember you told me that your dream wadrobe would have one, and the bathtub is for the both of us, the one we have now is starting to wear off, love.”

You groaned. “That was years ago, Joon, I don’t need all those now… I don’t need a fancy house, I just want one with you in it.”

“And I just want a happy wife, ‘happy wife, happy life’ remember?”

“Joon…”

“Just let me do this for you, please… It might be where we are going to live for the rest of our lives, where our kids will grow up. So please, let me.”

Your thoughts were soon cut off by Ms.Hong as she called out for you, “Mrs.Kim?”

Mrs.Kim.

It wasn’t the first time she has addressed you as such, initially calling you future Mrs.Kim, as she must have forgotten Namjoon and your name long ago, only remembering the last name from the KIM scribbled on top of her papers; but as time passed by, the word ‘future’ had seemed to magically vanish and hearing the endeared term now still manages to make you flush a bright pink, and neither you or Namjoon have the heart to correct her, both secretly loving the way it sounds.

Mrs.Kim.

“Yes?” you smiled, feeling Namjoons hands rubbing small circles behind your back, his deep voice whispering out, “What are you thinking about, love?”

Mumbling out a small ‘you’ to him, you grin and turned your attention back to Ms.Hong who was asking your opinion on what the extra empty room should be turned into, “Would you want to turn it into an office as well?”

You shake your head, “Oh no, the dining table or bar counter works just fine for me, I don’t really work at home, there’s too many…. distractions.” The conversation carries on with both the designers suggesting and listing out ways to utilise the vacant room, which you try to pay attention to but the smirk crawling onto Namjoons face doesn’t slip past your eye.

Distractions… He was the biggest one.

Delicious, delightful and wicked distractions, ranging from hour long cuddles, random music parties in the living room where you attempt to rap Namjoon’s part if a bts song comes on, slow dancing on dining room tables to hours spent in bed ….

Distractions… yes, distractions you wouldn’t change anything in the world for.

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barisifictionarchive · 6 years

Text

Author: @rawresparza or rafaelbaseball

Preferred Name: Erika

Do you prefer to write Rafael or Sonny and why? Oof. They both bring such distinct and different points of view, it’s hard to decide and generally depends on the mood of the scene. I like writing Sonny for how utterly pure his love for Rafael is so that’s great for sappier or sweeter scenes but at the same time, I like to explore Rafael’s difficulty with accepting he’s worthy of that love. Sonny feels so freely while Rafael can be so guarded, it’s just a wonderful dynamic to work with and I’m wandering away from the actual question so I’m just going to say both. Both is good.

Do you have a favorite movie? Jurassic Park and The Mummy are my very favorites, I could watch those movies over and over again and often do.

Who is your favorite author? This may be blasphemous but I don’t really have a favorite author in particular. I read a pretty wide variety of books so if anything, I’d have to separate authors by genre to pick favorites. I suppose the one that comes closest to being my number one would be Erik Larson, who seamlessly flows fact and fiction in prose form without making his readers struggle to understand what the heck is going on. I find his books nearly impossible to put down and I think that’s what every writer hopes for, the ability to truly captivate their readers and not only make them want to finish all your work in one sitting but be willing to do it all over again!

How did you start getting involved in fanfiction? The first fic I ever wrote was way back in the days of yore for ER so I’ve been writing it for many years, but I’ve never been more involved in a fandom than with Barisi. The last fandom I was active in was Supernatural but I haven’t watched since season 5 and honestly thought I’d never really be so enamored by another ship more than I was with Dean/Cas (don’t @ me). LITTLE DID I KNOW WHAT WOULD BE WAITING FOR ME!

How did you get involved with Barisi? I stumbled across fic that legitimately made me think they were a canon couple. I remember being so pressed when I started actually watching episodes regularly and realized they weren’t, but I still loved their scenes together and saw the chemistry there and it just snowballed. I stayed up so late for a solid couple weeks reading fics, it was a wild time.

Now that Raúl is no longer on SVU, I find that my love for Barisi remains just as steady and I think that says a lot. I love that it’s still gaining new fans even when half the OTP is gone and that people are still consistently writing for this ship. It makes my heart full to be able to say this was never just some fleeting interest. I’ve made amazing friendships through the Barisi fandom, I’m going to be 90 and still loving these two together.

What inspires you to write? When it comes to Barisi, pretty much everything inspires me. We had a Barisi Con in LA where we basically just walked around Disneyland talking about what they would do at each spot; I went to Vegas for my birthday and couldn’t help but imagine the boys exploring hotels together; and even random tweets or posts or memes I see various places online will remind me of them and trigger plot points in my noggin. I even have a fic plot on my To Write list based on a TV commercial.

Barisi is just such a dynamic pairing, writing them is a pleasure and honestly, that’s so rewarding. Feeling good and being able to smile over things I’ve written is inspiring in itself, I always try to aim to only write things I am willing to read multiple times myself. If I read a scene over and over while editing and find myself bored with it quickly or not vibing with it, I either rewrite it entirely or cut it.

In general, for me, I want to be able to write something that will connect with anyone reading. I want to make people laugh or tug at their heartstrings or just make them go “awww.” I may not always succeed but that’s what makes me work harder. I’m pretty hard on myself and am always certain my friends are lying when they say they read something I wrote or that they enjoyed it, but I keep going because I still have stories to tell. All I can hope for is that someone out there will care for the content!

What is your favorite fic that you have written? I’d have to say We're Just Flesh and Bone. I really enjoyed writing the short episode tags I’ve done, but Flesh and Bone is actually the first Barisi fic I ever wrote. I started it July 2017 for Camp NaNoWriMo and got to 30k+ then got addicted to fluff for awhile before deciding to return to this fic. It’s dear to me because it’s been with me for so long so the fact that anyone has read and enjoyed it means a lot to me. Some of the comments I’ve received on that fic have nearly made me cry.

On the flip side of that, Kiss Me Like You Did is just getting started but it’s taking on a life of its own and it’s been such a fascinating exercise for me when it comes to characterization. I’m really enjoying navigating the boys through this particular AU, they’re keeping me guessing.

What is your favorite quote from a fic of yours? Ha! Okay, it’s silly, but I’m still fond of something I wrote in the I Won't Even Wish for Snow installment of the Sonny Side Up universe:

“Is it more pathetic than when you froze up on camera then walked off set in front of our live audience because you forgot the Spanish word for turkey?”

It just makes me laugh every time because I can perfectly imagine Rafael getting all huffy and marching his lil legs off set and being petulant about it for the rest of the night. I try not to write things I can’t clearly see any given character doing in my head but listen, Raúl Esparza + hissy fits = best combo.

What is your personal favorite fanfic? Noche Sin Estrella by lambnoire is probably my favorite fic ever. I’ve read it so many times I’ve lost count. I have it saved in iBooks so I can read it on flights and I just never tire of going back to it.

Anything else you would like to add? I love, love, love talking about anything related to Barisi or Raúl and Peter so I welcome anyone to chat with me whenever they want. I love meeting new people with similar interests. I’m most active on Twitter (@rawreesparza, with the extra e) but my inbox here is always open, too. Also, I still have prompts in my inbox that have been sitting forever because I take a whole lot of time to figure out how I want to approach a plot but I will be getting to all of them and welcome more!

A question you’d like to ask another author? Hmmm. Maybe what’s your favorite way to get out of a block or funk? Personally, when I feel words aren’t coming to me, I pick up a book and read. By the time I’m done, my engines are usually fired up enough to get back to creating!

Have an author you’d like us to interview? Please let us know.

#barisi #author of the month #author recommendation #rawresparza #rafaelbaseball

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snickerl · 6 years

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The Birds and the Bees Through the Years

Alternative X-Files universe where Scully is allowed to raise both of her children, telling them how babies are made at different stages in their lives.

tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER 3/? - GLASS BOWL

"What's up, Will? Did you have a good day at school?"

It's always the same question he gets asked when he returns home. Either by his mom or by his dad, depending on who sees him first. Sometimes his parents are both away on a case and his grandma takes care of him. She doesn't ask him this annoying question he doesn't want to answer. He doesn't want to talk about school as soon as he leaves the building. His grandma understands, his parents always want to know. William thinks that might be the difference between parents and grandparents, the former want to educate and raise you and make you a better person, the latter just want to spoil and love you. His parents love him too, William knows. Still, his only answer to his mother's question is a non-committal, "hmpf."

"What's that supposed to mean? Mind talking to your mother in whole sentences?" She isn't letting him off the hook, and actually today there is something the boy would like to share.

"Jimmy is such a liar, mom!"

Jimmy is his friend since kindergarten, but from time to time they argue about something and today is one of those days. William's still confused about what came up in school today.

"He said his parents made him in a glass bowl and that's why he's so bright and gets A's in maths all the time."

Scully looks up from the kitchen sink where she's been doing the dishes. "Oh? You've gotten your maths results today?"

"Yup."

"And what have you got?"

"B+," the boy huffs, signaling he's not happy about it.

"That's perfectly fine, Will. Congratulation."

Scully hates it when her son is never satisfied with his accolades. Ambition is a good thing, so is stamina and will-power, but he's also just a kid who should enjoy life. Scully remembers her own ride through school all the way until graduating from medical school. She spent too much time with her nose in her books and too little out with her friends. It had earned her the best grades but her social life had fallen a bit by the wayside. It had become a recurring pattern in her life. For a long time, her job had played the most important part she sacrificed family dinners and free weekends for. Even a date once in a while. Her priorities hadn't shifted until she became a mother. First, of a three-year-old girl she adopted and then, three years later, of a baby boy who turned eight last month and is upset about something she hasn't got a clue of yet.

"But Jimmy got an A."

"I don't care what your friends get and neither should you. You've had problems with that particular topic." Text problems, of all kind. The child that was able to read at the age of four had difficulties solving maths text problems. Scully believed it had something to do with compartmentalizing. For William, reading didn't have anything to do with maths. He read the text but just didn't see the maths behind it. It had taken quite a few private lessons until he understood how to approach the task. "But that didn't keep you from making an effort. You studied hard and you are redeemed with a very good grade. You don't have to be perfect, honey, or the best of your class. We love you no matter what grade you're bringing home. And I bet Jimmy's parents tell him just the same."

"But he still is a liar."

"In what sense a liar?"

"Because he brags about being made in a laboratory. He says he's some kind of superhuman because a scientist created him in a glass bowl. But babies are made in the bedroom by their moms and dads when they like each other very much, right?"

Scully clears her throat before she answers. She feels they are approaching difficult territory. "You're right, William, most babies are made when their parents make love to each other in bed, but not all of them. Jimmy might have told you the truth, it's possible he was conceived by artificial insemination."

"Artificial what?"

"Insemination. It means the mother's egg and father's sperm are brought together outside the woman's body."

"In a glass bowl?"

"Well, it's called a petri dish, but yes, it's more or less a glass bowl, rather a small, shallow saucer. The procedure is also called in-vitro fertilization. In vitro is Latin and means within a glass, observable in a test tube or any kind of artificial environment."

"And it's done to make smarter babies?"

"No, it's done when a couple wants to have children but can't the natural way. In the bedroom." She clears her throat again. Talking to her children about the birds and the bees has never been easy for her. Making it sound like a lesson in biology class is her MO most of the time.

"Oh."

"It's a demanding procedure. It puts the future parents under a lot of stress, especially the mothers, but also the fathers. It's not much fun. And it costs quite a bit of money. Only couples that have tried for a baby without success for a long time would try in-vitro."

"Hmmm."

William lets the information sink in. His mother is always good at explaining those things to him. It's so much easier to ask her than to look it up in a book. She seems to be a resource for any kind of topic. "How come you know so much about everything, mom? Even about this in-vitro stuff," he marvels.

"I'm a medical doctor, remember?"

"But you examine corpses to find out why they died, you don't create babies."

He has a point, Scully has to admit. She works on the opposite side of the spectrum. She doesn't deal with the creation of life but with its termination. Some of her classmates at medical school chose to specialize in gynecology exactly for that reason, to be working in a medical field that entailed joy and health and not mainly sorrow and illness. She deals not only with illness but with murder, crime, and death. She's being called when the worst things have happened and nothing she can do will help the victims, their families, and friends. All she can do is help find the offenders and bring them to justice.

Scully struggles a bit with what she should reply, then decides her son is old enough to understand. "I have first-hand experience, Will."

"What? I'm also a test tube baby?"

"No," she hurries to erase that thought from his mind, "no, you're not."

"Emily?"

"Daddy and I adopted Emily, remember? You know she came to live with us when she was three years old." It's only half the truth, but Emily hasn't been told the story of her genesis yet, and she can't learn from her little brother. Mulder and Scully have been procrastinating the conversation with their daughter so far, waiting for the right moment. The moment just never seems right.

"Ah, right. So where does your first-hand experience come from then, mom?"

Eagerness for knowledge. It characterizes every child, but William in particular. He drinks in information like a sponge. Scully sighs barely audible. Now that she has started, she has to finish.

"I was once told that I couldn't have children. Doctors call it barren or infertile. I suffered from a condition that prevented for me to conceive a baby naturally."

"In the bedroom. With daddy."

"Um...yes."

"What condition?"

Tenacity, thy name is William. Scully puts her thoughts into an order for a moment, tries to think of the right words to explain it to an eight-year-old.

"A woman's body usually contains enough eggs to provide one every month to get inseminated by a man's sperm. If this happens, the egg starts dividing and settles down in the uterus. The woman is pregnant. The baby grows and nine months later it's born. My condition was called Premature Ovarian Failure which means that there were no eggs in my ovaries, and without an egg, there couldn't be a baby."

Thank God for science. As long as Scully can quote from one of her textbooks, even if it's one explaining the wonder of propagation to children, she's on a secure footing. She once read in a guidebook for parents that it's important to respect the child's natural curiosity without being judgmental, that if she avoids these talks, her children won't learn her values about sex, but will develop their own from what they hear from friends and the media. And she doesn't want that to happen. From a psychology professor, she heard that the most important thing is for a parent to explain the difficult topic without seeming anxious, that the child picks up the melody line, not the exact words. Both children have come to her in mysterious, inexplicable ways but she doesn't want either of them to believe they were an anomaly or some kind of freak.

"But mom, where is the baby daddy and you made in this...uh, what is the bowl called again?"

Answer the questions as they come, that's what the guidebook also said. Don't overload a child with information but don't try to steer the conversation elsewhere either. Scully wants to be an 'ask-able' parent, doesn't want her children to think the topic is a taboo in their family.

"Petri dish. There is no guarantee the procedure works, actually it fails more often than it is successful. We tried twice but it didn't take it. We don't have any other children besides Emily and you."

"Okay, but how come I exist then? If dad and you couldn't make babies in the bedroom neither in a petri dish?"

Once again, William's quick thinking mind, his wit and ability to always see the bigger picture surprises Scully, in a pleasant way.

"You, my son, are a miracle," she whispers in an uneven voice, stroking his hair lovingly.

To this day, Scully is still clueless how it had been possible for her to become pregnant. The only logical explanation would be that they hadn't been thorough enough when they took the ova from her. Somewhere in her ovarian tubes there had to be an egg hiding from the insidious harvesters, waiting for the right moment to make its voyage one fine day to join up with a sperm, Mulder's sperm. When she calculates back from the day William was born, she must have conceived him during one of their first times in bed. What a lucky stroke of fate. It seems that at least once in their lives the stars had aligned and fate had been on their side.

A pair of cerulean blue eyes just like her own stare at her, spanned by the cutest wrinkled forehead Scully has ever seen, for the boy tries hard to throw his mother an appraising look. The only thing missing is that he quirks his left eyebrow, and when he does, Scully almost laughs at the smaller version of herself. Are gestures and facial expressions hereditary or has she looked at him like this so often that he imitates her subconsciously?

Don't overload your child with information, rings in the back of Scully's head, another advice from one of the brochures she'd been reading about parenting when she became a mother. Going into detail about how science failed to provide an explanation for a natural conception would overwhelm the boy for sure.

"You are a miracle because you came to us at a moment of our lives we'd almost lost hope that something really good would ever happen to us. We had already accepted that Em would never get a little brother or sister, and suddenly, totally unexpected, you announced yourself. It was so out of the question that I could be expecting a baby that your father and I misinterpreted the first signs as symptoms of a serious illness. I didn't believe the doctor when he congratulated me on being pregnant. I truly thought he was making a joke."

"That would have been very mean of the doctor. I bet you were sad that you couldn't have children and playing a prank would've have been really nasty."

William is not only smart but also remarkably sensitive for a boy his age. In such moments, Scully sees the young Mulder in him, Mulder at a time he was still called Fox. An attentive, empathic, and caring boy and protective older brother to his sister Samantha.

"Yes, definitely. But he wasn't mean, he was being very nice actually."

"So, I'm not a test tube baby. I'm a completely normal child."

"Yes, you are."

"Normal is okay."

"More than okay."

"Even if I don't get A's?"

"Your school grades have nothing to do with what you're worth as a person, Will. I want you to remember that well. What really defines a person is their compassion, their ability to truly love another human being, to give instead of taking. When you think about yourself, I want you to pay attention to how you interact with others, with your friends, with your family, and most certainly not to a grade you got in maths."

"Hmmm," the boy lets his mother's words sink it. They seem heavy and significant, but there's something else bothering him.

"So, you chose Em as your child but you had to take what you got in me."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Will." Her son's trains of thought take unpredictable turns sometimes.

"You saw her and liked her and then you decided to adopt her, but when I was born you had no choice, you had to keep me. Would you have adopted me too? I mean, if you had been given a chance to decide? If you had found me somewhere, in an orphanage or some other place, would you have chosen me or would you have looked for another kid? Someone you liked better?"

It takes Scully a moment to fully grasp the idea behind William's question. Usually, the adopted child in a family questions if they're being loved as much as the biological child. They are usually the ones who are unsure about their position in the family, not the biological one. Her son surprises her once again with the way he looks at things, with how he sees the world around him. She feels the urge to pull him close and shower him with kisses but she doubts he would appreciate this kind of answer. He needs a reasonable explanation he can verify.

"There is no difference between Emily and you as our children, William. I can speak for your father as much as I'm speaking for myself. We were blessed with two little individuals enriching our lives and it doesn't matter how we became a family, the only thing that matters is that we did. We're linked together by our love for each other, not by how we joined this family."

"Is that why grandma calls dad her son once in a while? Because he isn't her son, right? Uncle Bill and uncle Charlie are."

"Daddy is grandma's son-in-law. That is what he's called officially because he's married to me, her daughter. But she loves him just like she loves uncle Bill and uncle Charlie. Even before we were married, she loved him and treated him like family. See, love has nothing to do with how the other person came into your life. You either do love someone, or you don't."

"Complicated."

"Well, actually, it's quite simple. You'll understand better once you're older, sweetie."

"Ugh, mom, don't call me that! I'm not a baby anymore!"

"No, you're not," Scully admits, hiding her melancholy at how fast he has grown. "I'm sorry. William."

"Will is okay, but not sweetie or jellybean or pumkin or-"

"I got it, sugarplum." She grins and hurries to add, "just teasing."

"Good." The boy is really serious about this. "I'm going to also tell dad. I hate it when he calls me fuzzybear. Only because his parents chose to call him Fox doesn't give him the right to annoy his own children likewise. I wonder why Em still lets him call her kitten. I mean, seriously, she's all grown up."

She's fourteen, Scully thinks, and still their baby. They will always remain their babies, their sweetpeas, their angels, and it strikes her as funny that when it comes to naming their children, Mulder is even more prone than she to this syrupy tawdriness. The man who demands to be called by his last name picks of an embarrassment of riches coming up with pet names for his offspring. Maybe it's because he missed this kind of fluffiness as a kid, the sugary sweetness with which parents coat their children.

"What's for dinner?" William asks all of a sudden, letting go of the topic of his conception abruptly which, the guidebooks say, is typical for children his age.

"Chicken curry with rice," Scully answers somewhat relieved the conversation is over. It won't be the last time she will be bombarded with questions, either from him or Emily. She will be open and willing to answer each and every one of them.

"Oh, yum! I'm in my room, call me when it's done." He's already halfway up the stairs.

"I'll call you when the table needs to be set."

"Just as well," the boy shouts down from the landing, ten seconds later Scully hears his door slide shut.

She turns to the stove where the chicken curry has been simmering for almost an hour now, lifts the lid off the pot and stirs absentmindedly. She marvels at how mundane her life is at times. Preparing food, waiting for her husband to come and her family to gather at the dinner table. She worries more often about school, the grocery list and how fast her kids grow out of their shoes nowadays than liver-eating psychopaths, men regrowing body parts and immortal photographers, and it's not necessarily a bad thing. Not at all.

Who would have thought life had this in store for her when young, green, ambitious Special Agent Dana Scully took her first ride down to the basement to meet her new partner?

She loves it, and she knows Mulder loves it as much.

#Dana Scully #William Mulder #glass bowl or petri dish?#animalistic pet names #fluff again

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eat-a-mint-jungkook · 6 years

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Fic Summary 2k17

End of the year fic meme/summary for 2017!

Total word count written: 64026

Total word count published: 39420

Fandoms written: BTS, original fiction

Tagging all the writers and anyone else who wants to do it!! @c-cygnus @dreamscript @hipsterminseok @guksheart @army-author @sungvin97 @jikook-love @berry-happy-tokki @mistymins @btsaeipathy @foxandthepoppy

1. Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or what you predicted?

L E S S. School got in the way and honestly, I haven’t felt inspired to write in a long time. Haven’t had any new ideas spring up, so for now I’ve just been working on what I need to finish 😭

2. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?

Hmm maybe writing Yoonkook? As for genre, probably that angsty crack LOL it was an interesting combination

3. What’s your own favourite story of the year?

Still the same as last year--The lines between us (hold us together)! It’s coming together nicely and I think my writing has changed a bit (improved?) from how it was in my original drafts :’)

4. Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Hmm not really, but I did decide to take on a long fic/ longer fics, which is always such a challenge for me ahah

5. Do you have any fanfic goals for the new year?

Finish writing The lines between us, as well as a couple of other WIPs I have!!

From my past year of writing, what was…

My best story of this year:

The lines between us (hold us together)!! It’s been the best work I’ve been working on for a while now :’)

My most popular story of this year:

Hmm Just Give Me a Reason seemed to be really popular... technically most of it was written in 2016 but it was posted in 2017 so I’ll count that~

Most fun story to write:

Let the date pay!! This was written in pretty much one sitting but I just had to have my imagination run wild with it ahaha. Oh and it was great thinking about @c-cygnus ‘s reaction bc the entire fic was based on an Iconic line she said LOL

Story with the single sexiest moment:

Entanglement 👀👀👀 all of it was sexy come on, the entire AU is... maybe minus the final fic in the series

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:

Nothing really but Forget everything you know about love comes close to that? (the other questionable things will never see the light of day LOL)

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

Hmmm I can’t think of anything ahah but I enjoyed writing Yoongi’s character in Key to your heart and also... I’m Lovin’ It ajfldkajflkdja

Hardest story to write:

The lines between us! Just because there are so many subplots and it’s taking much more detailed planning than the outline that I’d written last year. Additionally, the constant POV change actually makes it even harder to plan out and just... I hate third person omniscient >_< (I’m surprised no one’s called me out for it yet... hah...)

Biggest surprise:

Ummm... biggest surprise was having Forget everything you know about love turn into an angst instead of a purely satirical crack fic LOL. The original prompt/request was definitely asking for a crack fic, but the end result deviated a lot from the prompt

Also When night breaks (so will my heart) ??? I have no idea where this one came from like ya can’t even tell I wrote it tbh

Most unintentionally telling story:

The lines between us? There are a lot of heavy moral ideologies sprinkled throughout, but I’d say most of that was also intentional. Just Give Me a Reason also has some deep life lessons (and I still can’t believe someone quoted something from that fic ajfkljdlakfj)

Favourite opening lines:

Jeon Jungkook was about to commit the biggest crime of his life.

And the worst part was that it could've easily been prevented.

To say that he'd been distracted by his gorgeous date, Jimin, was an understatement. With one flirty message on Facebook, he'd walked out of the house without bringing his keys. With a flirty Snapchat showing off just how stunning this Jimin guy (who claims he really isn't an editorial model) was, Jungkook had just about forgotten his own name.

[Let the date pay]

Favourite closing lines:

Besides, there's no way Jimin could truly believe that he doesn't have a soulmate when his printsare intact, right?

But maybe that wasn't a very likely explanation because the probability of the scanner on the phone messing up twice is much too small, which Jungkook doesn't know if he should be relieved about or not. Because if Jimin and Taehyung weren't soulmates, that left only one other possibility...

Jimin and Taehyung were in love.

[The lines between us - ch 3]

Favourite lines from anywhere:

[CAN I PUT SOMETHING FROM MY WIPS OR NAH??? Okay here]

"Maybe it's for the better. That we won't ever get to know each other."

"Yeah, so you won't hate me even more," Jimin laughed bitterly.

"No." It came out as a whisper. "I don't hate you and that's not why."

The raise of an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It's so I can't fall in love with you even more."

[Deadlock, part 3 of the Jikook aristocrat AU... which will be posted as soon as I edit some more!!]

Scenes from anywhere you would have choose to have illustrated:

Yo honestly... anything from that aristocrat AU 👀👀👀

New year’s resolutions:

Finish The lines between us and all my other WIPs!!

Word Count Totals

Total finished, posted fic: 39420

Longest posted fic: Forget everything you know about love - 10k

Longest wip: The lines between us (hold us together) - 14k posted, ~30k+ written so far

Total number of words written: 64026

#personal #fic things #only 9 fics... but it was a tough year :')#hopefully 2018 treats us better!!#looking forward to better things :)

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thedancingwalrus-blog · 6 years

Text

I am attempting this meme thing. I hope I’ve got it right.

Rules are:

· Post the rules

· Answer the questions given to you by the tagger

· Write 11 questions of your own

· And tag 11 people

1. if you were Not A Mammal, what (other) animal would you be?

Could I be the kea-bird? I very much like the kea bird. You see I have a lot of admiration for any animal that has figured out a way to snowboard, have snow ball fights and also kill things several dozen times its size so it can eat their kidneys. :)

New Zealand is insane and I love it.

2. what AU would you kill to see someone write about your OTP?

Hmmmmm well first I need to decide what my OTP is.

I write a lot of different ships. Like I checked my AO3 tags just now and the biggest number I have for one ship is 3 fics. The vast majority of those fics are AUs so there’s a certain amount that if I want a pairing and AU I write it myself because I don’t expect other people to be interested in what I am.

I’m honestly struggling to think of one pairing to put down let alone an AU for them.

I would be like Golem and want them ALL. MINE! MY PRECIOUS!

*ahem*

I love Lena Luthor/Supergirl to a ridiculous degree but don’t have any particular AU urges with them.

I think I’d really love to see an AU where Alex Danvers and M’gann Morzz were a couple, a long, emotionally intense slow burn, dealing with M’gann’s PTSD and Alex’s desire for a family and everything happening on Mars.

Having just watched the latest Star Wars and the Doctor Who Christmas Special I’d also really love to see the AU where the Doctor and Bill show up right at the end of The Last Jedi and Bill’s incredible whirlwind romance with Rose.

3. do you like crossover fics/stories? (e.g., blending marvel and dc?) why or why not?

Considering how many of them I write I don’t actually read a lot of them.

I like writing them because doing them well requires that extra level of thought: how do the worlds overlap? How do the characters interact? Is there anything from either world that doesn’t fit and can it be reconciled?

As much as it’s slow going I’m loving writing the Batman/Iron man crossover with my partner. For me fiction should be talking about something, no matter how light the story and no matter whether it’s publishable or not. I really like the way we’ve used Bruce and Tony to talk about different approaches to social problems, a sort of ground-up personal approach versus a top-down at a remove approach. I don’t think we could have done so well outside of a crossover.

But that extra complexity is probably why I don’t read a lot of them. With my health problems over the past year-and-change I’ve found it difficult to dedicate time and focus to reading other people’s fiction. And given the choice between reading and writing I’ll always go for writing.

4. what’s the last piece of fiction you read that you would recommend?

Heh, yeah I’m not sure what the last book I finished and enjoyed was. My difficulty focusing over the year has meant a lot of books were started and put down again, no matter how good they were.

I also read a lot of non-fiction rather than fiction.

Generally though here are some I managed through mental health problems and probably give an idea of how eclectic my reading is-

The Lord Peter Wimsey Series by Dorothy L Sayers.

· These were written in the 1920s and there are some issues with racist language as a result. But by Gods they’re brilliant. Startlingly original mysteries that don’t always turn out to be murders, excellent, varied female characters, a mentally ill protagonist, a wealth of disabled characters, memorable descriptions. They’re worth a read.

Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie

· Best sci fi book I’ve read in a very very long time. Excellent plot. Wonderful lightness of touch when it comes to world building. And an intensely personal, emotional focus. It’s essentially the story of a loyal soldier plotting to kill the head of their nation, not out of any moral compulsion or difference of opinion but because she killed someone the soldier loved. Powerful stuff.

5. your thoughts about poetry? Do you write it?

Poetry is excellent but I never write it myself.

I find it’s a wonderful way to summarise intense emotion. I memorise a lot of it (for which we broadly blame Saudi) and quote it fairly often. My favourites are Sassoon, Sappho and Rumi. I dip into Byron occasionally and I have a compass engraved with The Road Less Travelled By.

I’m also a big fan of the Sagas but obviously they lose a lot of the meter in translation. I’m thinking of trying to learn Lokasenna in the original because I think it would be satisfying to growl at people. I’ve got a copy of Beowulf in Old English that I go back to every so often to look at the language. One day I shall have the courage to read it aloud as it was supposed to be.

6. what’s one period of history (from any place) you find interesting and want to either learn more about or teach others about?

I have to choose ONE?!

I mean it’s sort of obvious but also I think the only reason this is counted as ‘one’ thing by a lot of people is bloody Western bias not taking the entire African continent seriously.

West African pre-colonial history.

For godssakes if you’re making the slightest pretence at understanding the New World you should know the basics. It feeds into so much Caribbean, Brazilian and US history. It shaped wars in Brazil and Cuba and Haiti.

It's also a wonderful contrast to Western philosophical schools. There are completely different concepts about deities, kingship, gender and souls.

And honestly? I just think it's really interesting and really under appreciated. I really love learning more about it and I wish more people learnt about it.

7. salty or sweet?

Sweet. No sweeter. Sweeter than that. Look just pass me the fucking sugar already I’ll handle this.

Wait- This is about food right? This isn’t that weird American thing of assigning flavours to emotions and behaviours?

Are you trying to confuse me so you can take the coffee? I see through your cunning ruse and the caffeine is mine. Yes.

8. feelings about gift-giving? Enjoy it? Find it burdensome? Think it’s too commercial? Ritualized? Etc?

Well…of course it’s ritualised but that doesn’t make it wrong. Rituals are a large part of what holds us together.

I like gift giving. It appeals to the old fashioned part of me and I think it’s a good way of reinforcing social ties and showing appreciate of others. Sure it can be difficult, but I enjoy the exchange.

At least when it is actually focused on the person getting the gift rather than just some generic expensive thing for the sake of it.

9. vampires: yay or nay?

-the Queen of air and darkness

begins to shrill and cry,

Oh young man oh my slayer,

Tomorrow you shall die.

Oh Queen of air and darkness

I think it’s true you say,

And I shall die tomorrow

But you will die today.

10. what’s one trope you love and can’t get enough of, no matter the medium in which it arises (tv, film, fic, etc)?

Hmmm difficult.

I really like seeing characters who are genuinely very different, with different backgrounds and beliefs coming together to do the right thing. That's part of why I liked the Justice League, seeing very different people working together and becoming friends.

I also like complex villains. I have a serious weak spot for them. My favourite characters are often villains, Lex Luthor, the Joker, Catwoman- But I sort of have mixed emotions about that. Because it comes from....poorly written heroes essentially. I often focus on complex villains when the heroes are bland and uninteresting. I think a lot of the time that comes from people assuming that the audience will empathise with the hero and that they need to take more effort over the villain.

So when I write I try to make a concerted effort to make the heroes interesting and flawed and complex. Because otherwise why aren't we reading a story about the villain?

11. are you a morning shower person or a night shower person? or the elusive bubble baths person?

I am an ‘ARGH NO WATER!!!! WHY IS IT SO COLD?! WHY IS IT FALLING FROM THE CELING?! THIS IS UNNATURAL AND WRONG!!! THE PAIN!!! THE INDIGINITY!!!!!’ person.

1) John Boyega or Idris Elba?

2) Murder Mysteries, good family fun, awful and disturbing, dull- Thoughts?

3) Favourite mythology and why?

4) Is there a type of story you wish you could write but don’t want to attempt?

5) Never-fail feel good book?

6) Last film that made you cry?

7) Do you get carsick?

8) What’s the best plant in the world? Have you grown one?

9) Dosas. Breakfast food or lunch food?

10) If you were dividing things up into seasons from scratch what would they be based on and what would you call them?

11) What and where is the best time of year?

@akindoodle, @phynali @thehungryvortigaunt @warclad (sorry mate I couldn’t remember what your personal blog was called) @bysamanthakeel,

#meme #look I did a meme #I can totally internet #and I don't know 11 people on this site XD

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