#how come i don't see shit like this included more often in fics? someone please do something about it

[monorosado]

a dear friend of mine has greek ancestry so today she invited us to a celebration where there were lots of typical greek dances and i loved it, of course, the music is amazing and the dances are so fun, but also, since im not well mentally i couldnt help but think about modern day au damen the whole time

#just imagine!! from a young age he would've been learning those dances #just shoot me in the head #capri brainrot #capri #how come i don't see shit like this included more often in fics? someone please do something about it #i'll give my firstborn as an offering just for the chance to read a modern day au fic with damen having very obvious greek heritage #and laurent being french obs #why does everything and everyone have to be american all the time #this is also me asking for fic recs thanks #captive prince

[yuebings]

fic writer meme

thank u @fruitdaze @uhuraisgay @cairoscene @englishsub for tagging me!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

44 currently! double 4s? during MY lunar new year? i gotta change that up quick

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

315,042 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

my most written-for fandom is mdzs, but i don't really write for it anymore...if you look at my ao3 profile u can kinda tell i'm a sporadic one-and-done type when it comes to fic hehe no one can predict where i'll go next. my latest fandom is jujutsu kaisen!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

so you've been robbed by a musuem

the stone-filled sea

the family-dodging bathroom-dwellers association

and his wanting grows teeth

diving blind

it's like a wangxian sweep except for the last sambucky lol

5. Do you respond to comments?

i am trying to get better at that! sometimes i don't have the energy to go through and respond to every single one but trust me when i say that seeing the wonderful comments people leave truly makes my day

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

tbh i don't think i've ever written straight-up angsty endings (or at least the way i see straight up angst). every 'bad' ending has a ray of hope in it, or at least an acceptance that like...yes, this is the way it was meant to be, and to reject the outcome would be to reject everything that came before it. sometimes things were meant to go to shit. there was no other way to go. we were doomed but at least we loved each other. i will suffer but at least i can remember you. so on so forth.

with all that said, it's a toss up between the longest journey (di feijing & lei chun), or all things in pain (wen ning character study). 'angsty' endings, if only in the way i described above

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

a lot of my happy endings aren't super-sweet happy endings per se, but rather a promise or hope that things will get better. idk what that says about me lol like maybe i have more interest in the "how to become happy" part than the actual happiness itself...? but ANYWAY i'd say the sappiest ending is i have is uhhhh feel like a brand new person (msr take edibles together) because 1) their mutual attraction is finally acknowledged 2) they're making out 3) they're high as balls. what's better than this

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not any time recently! i've rarely had negative comments before and all of them have been of such a ridiculous nature that my only response was like "lmfao ok"

9. Do you write smut?

nope! not yet, at least. maybe some time in the future i'll feel like it

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written?

haven't written any, don't really read them either! i keep my blorbos locked up in their separate cages. siloed.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

yes! kind of. if this counts, a couple years ago someone on wattpad stole over 100 wangxian fics (including mine) from ao3 and reposted them onto their own account without credit. we got their account taken down tho so all is well...but this is why i say in my ao3 profile that i do not allow reposts. please tell me if u ever see my work reposted anywhere........

i've also come across a fic in a diff fandom that was VERY clearly "inspired" by one of mine (lifting certain scenes and lines beat for beat) and gave no credit. so there's that as well.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! it's always an honor when someone wants to translate my work :)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope! my creative process is so erratic that i feel like i'd be a nightmare to co-write with, so this is probably for the better

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

this is a hard question to answer. i don't have an ultimate favorite that always stays at the top of the pile, cuz my interests change all the time! right now i'm really enjoying platonic yuuji & megumi & nobara & gojo. in terms of what i go to most often when i want a comfort re-read...finnpoe.

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

omg. you want a DEEP CUT? i have a wip for a rarepair in an already sparse fandom...yeongshin/seobi from kingdom on netflix (the historical korean zombie drama). i LOOOOVE that show i comfort re-watch it all the time. i love their bonded-thru-trauma-frenemies healer/warrior dynamic and i have this wip going for yeongshin getting bitten and seobi developing a zombification-reversal cure through sheer willpower and spite alone........there's maybe 2k written and i was relying on a season renewal announcement to motivate me enough to get the rest of it out but uh. fellow kingdom warriors if you're out there. i think we may be losing this battle............kingdom season 3 announcement save me..............

16. What are your writing strengths?

as a haver-of-siblings, i think i do general family dynamics pretty well! someone has told me in the past that i am good at packing meaning into very few words. i also think i'm good at angsty emotional beats (i sure like writing them, at least)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

bro if there is any action scene in my work, writing it is like pulling teeth. what do you mean he's getting hit. what do you mean i have to think of an interesting way to describe punch #1 and punch #2 and punch #3. STOPPPPPPPP I CANT DO THIS.

in terms of technique i used to struggle with this thing where i NEED to perfect the writing i'm working on before i can move on. like i'd waste huge amounts of time rewriting a three sentence paragraph over and over and over again until it was perfect before i could move onto the next scene. i'm getting a lot better with that tho!

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

i've never done it myself, like, full on written-in-a-diff-lang dialogue, but i think it's cool as long as context clues/some form of translation is provided. and if proper research is done if the writer isn't a native speaker

19. First fandom you wrote for?

the man from uncle (2015). lol. napollya could have won in an alternate universe where armie h@mmer wasn't a piece of shit

20. Favorite fic you have written?

HOO. i gotta say it's my sambucky ghost fic the boy who cried ghost. it's by far my longest fic (even tho it isn't actually very long compared to others ive seen LOLLLL) and it took me AGES to write and ended up being quite personal!! part of the reason it took me so long to finish was bc i couldn't bear to write about sam struggling with grief/guilt when i was also going through something similar, so when i finally got around to writing the moment of catharsis i kinda felt like i was helping myself, too! which was a very interesting experience, and definitely served to lodge this fic in my heart forever and ever. it's not exactly popular but i'm proud of it :)

tagging @tantai-jin @bluecrystalrainingdaggers @vinelark and anyone else who wants to participate!

#BTW I AM EATING AN APPLE FRITTER. IF ANYONE EVEN CARES. #and my cat is squeaking very loudly rn. he is so cutie #yue.txt

[seventhdoctor]

Third Eyes, Dragon Surgery, and Other Past Life Worldbuilding

Need is kind of a mix of my GX past-life headcanons and theories with a few what-ifs thrown in, and unfortunately Yubel's singular focus communicates less about the setting and its details than I'd like. The Dragoning in Chapter 3 (which I'm about to post right now) is...intentionally very vaguely described, given that Yubel is not able to or focused on observing their own transformation, but I thought I'd add more details about it (and compile some other worldbuilding bits) here in case anyone was curious.

Topics include: Yubel's family, the microaggression Yubel totally failed to notice in Chapter 2 of Need, the significance of Yubel's gem, and of course what's involved in Becoming Dragon.

Obvious disclaimer: This should go without saying, but this post is a mix of personal headcanon and lore conceived specifically for this one fic. I'm not saying any of this is actual canon to 2004-2008 anime Yugioh GX. Please don't mischaracterize this post as saying things about canon.

Yubel's family

Yubel is the youngest of five children, born to the Ruby Kingdom's royal librarian (Yubel's father) and a religious scholar from the Cobalt Lands (Yubel's mother). From oldest to youngest, their siblings are: Liese, Aenor and Ansoald (twins), Erneis, and of course Yubel themself.

Nearly everyone in the family is an academic of some kind. Yubel and Liese are the family jocks, although they still make an effort for their studies thanks to their upraising.

Cobalt And Ruby

The Cobalt Lands aren't that close to the Ruby Kingdom, so it's not that often that in the Ruby Kingdom's capital see a lot of people from there. And while Yubel and their siblings were born in the Ruby Kingdom, they still adopted customs and culture their mother passed on to them.

And sometimes, it's obvious when someone comes from a foreign culture.

(This is Liese! In my head she ends up looking a lot like Lyn/Lyndis Fireemblem as she gets older so I made a screenshot edit - thanks to Silver from the No One in Yugioh is Straight server, who helped with the colors.)

In this fic, wearing a gemstone on your forehead is a tradition from a religion most strongly associated with the Cobalt Lands. That Yubel's family goes around wearing them is a bit like wearing bindi or a hijab IRL - it indicates influences of a foreign culture, and a thing that certain people do for religious reasons (and you're kind of an asshole if you give people shit for it).

Yubel, Liese, and the rest of their family being immigrants and first-gen immigrants aside from their father is something that Yubel doesn't pay that much mind but it is something that others are aware of. On the whole nobody's outright hostile about it, but it lead to occasional misconceptions! Chapter 2 of Need includes the equivalent of Odila telling a kid born in Illinois "Hey, let me explain Christmas, do you have that in Taiwan?" Yubel totally fails to recognize the faux pas while accidentally calling it out, but Liese is aware and tries to rescue the situation.

Liese herself is often misinterpreted as wearing a ruby as a show of Ruby Kingdom patriotism, because hey she's a knight of the kingdom and the king certainly wears rubies. Rubies have a different meaning in Cobalt culture, but obviously most people in the Ruby Kingdom miss the nuance.

(The king and Judai wear gemstones prominently, but they're always placed on a crown, or on wristbands, always part of larger accessories - unlike how Yubel and Liese wear theirs.)

Third Eyes

Yubel explains a little bit about the significance of gemstone third eyes in Chapter 1. Different gemstones have different meanings (that don't correlate with modern-day Western gemstone symbolism, so don't go expecting that). Choosing your own gemstone is a personal milestone and a way to represent something meaningful to you - goals, memories, ideals, things like that.

Liese chooses ruby (virtue) for herself because she wants to be an honorable knight and leader. Yubel chooses spinel (vigilance) because they want to watch over the people they love to keep them safe. But of course, they won't be wearing that spinel forever...

But there's a little more to the tradition than that.

The king describes the history of the gentle darkness and the Light of Destruction to Yubel briefly but informatively, and the way I interpret that for this fic is that they're old tales that the king is confirming as truth.

The Ruby Kingdom here has the most concrete records for those old tales, and some way or another anticipated that the gentle darkness would find its holder - which turned out to be Judai. Outside of the highest administration, though, the gentle darkness is mostly forgotten or considered obscure.

The Cobalt Lands don't have the historical records that the Ruby Kingdom, but their religion and culture have a lot of old concepts and symbolism that originate from the gentle darkness and other old forces. And this includes - you guessed it - the tradition of third eyes!

The Dragoning

In even older times, third eyes were a very literal thing and involved implanting a philosopher's stone inside yourself as a process of enlightenment. Yeah, we're back to alchemy, this is Yugioh GX the cardgames and alchemy symbolism anime.

Fic lore aside, it's actual alchemical symbolism that the rebis - half male and half female, a concept that informs Yubel's design - is the end result of the magnum opus, the process to create a philosopher's stone. The philosopher's stone is sometimes characterized as red in color (famously so in Fullmetal Alchemist), and - isn't it interesting how the main element of red in Yubel's design is the eye that persists through each of their forms?

The Cobalt Lands preserved the cultural meaning of the third eye through the wearing of gemstones, a much safer and more accessible practice than a long, involved, and generally life-threatening process that was extremely time- and resource-intensive. This also allowed them to develop symbolism for different gemstones, evolving into the traditions Yubel and Liese observe.

The Ruby Kingdom preserved the actual (and very dangerous!) procedure for developing a philosopher's stone and implanting it, and eventually would use this knowledge to create the perfect defender from a young knight.

...With an experimental dose of dragon essence, of course.

In this fic, Yubel's transformation is achieved through embedding a philosopher's stone within their body - which becomes their new, more literal third eye and the focus of their powers. But there's also a new element thrown in, to further transcend them beyond human into something eternal - an immortal guardian spirit, able to call upon otherworldly power to protect the gentle darkness' chosen bearer from the forces of light.

(Also dragons have their own alchemic symbolism based on some research, but I'm not confident in saying too much because I've been having trouble finding sources that look wholly reliable. On the off-chance someone more knowledgeable is reading, hit me up please.)

Did anyone tell Yubel this part was experimental? No. Would they have cared? Probably not.

In the king's defense, he and his alchemists wouldn't have done the procedure if they weren't pretty sure it was going to work out. Someone as dedicated to Judai as Yubel, human or not, isn't a resource to risk carelessly.

That said, was it all above board to pull out ancient rituals and convince a kid to become a dragon for the sake of protecting the chosen one, without telling the chosen one until too late? Probably not, but we can only guess that he thought the end justified the means.

#yugioh series #yugioh gx #fic #my fic #meta #sorta #yubel #judai yuki

[pixiemage]

(Originally an addon to this post about Ao3 not using an algorithm)

There are FOUR WAYS to get people to read your stories on Archive Of Our Own, and none of them include relying on a nonexistent algorithm to get them to interested parties.

Choose a good title! And yes, there is such a thing as a good title, though I'll admit it's rare for me to see a bad one. Even something as simple as "The one where Martyn forgets the milk" is enough to get me wondering what kind of story earned a title like that. Sometimes a song lyric works super well if it fits the vibe of your story, and sometimes coming up with something of your own might work better. Sometimes making a joke in the title draws more attention if you've written a story that will make people laugh, and sometimes choosing a one- or two-word phrase that catches the eye is all it takes. (If I see a fic called "Poppies, Princes, and Paranoia" I might just get curious enough to wonder what in the world is in that story.)

Write a summary! Please. Please, for the love of god, give your story a summary. Every time I come across a fic that says "haha I'm bad at summaries, just read the story lolz" my first instinct is to move on. By saying you're Bad At Summaries, you're also implying that you're bad at writing, and any potential reader won't take the time to click on your fic and give it a chance when it looks like the author isn't confident in their own work. You don't have to write a masterpiece in the summary section. You can say "Tim has a no good, very bad day. Luckily his partner is there to cheer him up." And look! Ta-da! Summary! :D It's short, sweet, and to the point, and it's miles better than saying you don't know how to write one. OR! OR, if you don't like that either, then you can literally take a short and interesting chunk from the story itself and drop it in the summary box. Look! You're doing great! ^^ You've given a taste of your writing, hinted at what's to come, and caught someone's eye. THAT will hook a potential reader far more than laughing about how "bad" you think you are at writing summaries in general. Self-depreciation may work for a social media post, but it doesn't work to sell your writing.

Clearly tag your work! I'm sure I'm not the first person to say this, but putting clear and relevant tags on your story will ALWAYS bring new readers to your story. Many people on Ao3 search specifically by tag to better narrow the massive sea of stories they'll need to choose from. So tag relevant ships and characters (preferably only the ones that are a primary focus in your fic), tag the proper fandoms, define if it's "hurt/comfort" or "angst" or "fluff" or "crack", and add the main plot concepts where needed. (For example, I'm writing an Amnesia AU, so I tagged it as both Amnesia and Temporary Amnesia, because while the amnesia is a lingering factor in the plot, it WILL NOT BE later, and some people are more likely to read if they KNOW the conflict in the plot will be resolved.) And while I understand not wanting to tag certain things for spoiler reasons (though you should add those once they're revealed in a chapter), I DO RECOMMEND tagging relevant warnings, as well as specifying whether the ending will be a GOOD one or a BAD one. Some readers are more or less likely to click on a story based on that alone. I've specifically taken a chance on a sad-sounding story before because the author said it would end happily, and more often than not I wasn't disappointed! I wouldn't have read a sad story otherwise! Tag that shit!***

JUST KEEP WRITING! People will stick around for a good story! It's true that quality of writing will make a good fic stand apart from a great one, and that comes down to skill. That's not to say people won't read a story that's written by a less skilled author, because if you tag and title and summarize your story well, you'll still draw in readers, and most people will stick around to enjoy an interesting story whether it's 2k works or 20k. But the more you write (and the more you READ), the more you'll learn and the more you'll improve. Don't give up just because you're getting less attention than the next writer. If you keep working on your craft, you'll be right up there with them soon enough. I'm in my late 20's and it took me years to get to where I am. I'm not foolish enough to pretend I don't know I'm a quality writer, but I also refuse to call it "talent" because it's much more than that. It's a skill that I honed over years of writing and storytelling. I learned from my peers and I took inspiration from bigger and better writers to work my way up to where I am now. So don't write just to get hits and kudos, write to tell a good story! And when the comments come in, though they may start small, just know that those people are seeing the passion you're putting into your work...and they're just a small taste of the kind of joy you'll be able to share if you stick with your writing. <3

(BONUS: Share your fics on Tumblr and other sites. If you're worried that they won't get seen on Ao3 without help, then feel free to boost awareness by dropping a link and some info elsewhere. I do this every time I post something new, because I know that part of my audience lives on Tumblr! So don't hesitate to utilize the platforms you've got. Tag it properly on here and you'll get a few more reads from folks who are looking for it!)

***Please remember, too, that "Dead Dove, Do Not Eat" is not a replacement for any bad tags. What it actually means is "What's inside is what's labeled on the tin" ...or to put it bluntly: "Please for the love of god, read what I have in the tags, there's probably some uncomfy crap in here, so READ THE LABELS. You have been warned." If you don't add the tags you're Dead Dove-ing, then the Dead Dove tag is pointless and tells your audience nothing. Be kind and be clear. Your readers will thank you for it.

#Writing #Writing Advice #Archive Of Our Own #Ao3 #Fanfiction

[mimzy-writing-online]

You probably know this by now, I don't know if you keep up with Whumptober, but one of the prompts this year includes "blindness". I'm not blind but based on your posts about writing blind characters, and based on how I would feel if one of my disabilities were used as a whump prompt, I'm not super comfortable with it. I was wondering what your thoughts are on blindness being a Whumptober prompt.

(unironically and with feeling) thanks, I hate it.

Yes, I’m familiar with Whumptober, but I’ve never participated myself and I haven’t seen this year’s prompts.

Edit: I later did see the prompts and check out the blog. I think it's a good set of prompts and I look forward to all the promising content, especially since some of my favorite tropes are there. To be clear before you read this, I have no problem with Whumptober2021 or whump in general. This is not the first time blindness has been included for a list of whump prompts, and it won't be the last.

This post directed at the concept of "blindness" as a whump prompt and why I think it's a bad idea. The intended audience is individual writers thinking about future projects.

The timing of this is almost too perfect because I read a fanfic earlier this week that would meet that prompt exactly. Tags included whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. Now whump, hurt/comfort, and angst with a happy ending are tags I enjoy reading, but blindness as whump has a specific message to it.

To explain that message, I want to discuss what whump is. Many readers are already familiar with the genre, but I think taking the specific definitions and picking apart what it means and what expectations we carry when reading whump fanfiction

Urban Dictionary defines it as: taking a character and putting them through physical and/or mental torment and is typically followed by the same character being treated for their traumas. To indicate the characters place in the situation they’d typically be called a whumpee (the character being hurt/comforted), the whumper (the character that causes harm and trauma), and the caretaker (the character designated the helping/healing/comforting the whumpee).

Fanlore has a page for whump that explains it in depth, including where it started in fanfiction, examples of whump, and even a list of “popular targets” in different fandoms. (Warning: you might find yourself called out on the popular targets list)

“The term whump (or whumping) generally refers to a form of Hurt/Comfort that is heavy on the hurt and is often found in gen stories. The exact definition varies and has evolved over time. Essentially, whump involves taking a canon character, and placing them in physically painful or psychologically-damaging scenarios. Often this character is a fan favorite…”

To add to that, I think an important detail is the distinction Fanlore makes between hurt/comfort and whump:

“While some communities and fandoms may use whump as a synonym for hurt/comfort, there is still a recognition that whump refers to darker and more extreme scenarios. And there are still whump fics been written that have very little, or no comfort at the end of the story.”

The big appeal of hurt/comfort is getting to both explore the darker sides of pain and then experience the catharsis of being taken care of, of being supported by your loved ones as you recover from the trauma. The character is the proxy for experiencing those highs and lows while you yourself are safe at home.

I personally don’t read much/any whump without some h/c involved, but I’m happy there are stories out there for people who do enjoy it. I’m not here to judge what you like reading or what you do to your characters.

What I want is to express how blindness, my disability, used as a whump prompt personally makes me feel and what message it sends to me, to others, and how that message affects my daily life.

Whump undeniably involves watching a character suffer through something painful and traumatic.

My use of the word “suffer” is what I want you to focus on.

Vision loss can be painful and traumatic. I personally developed an anxiety disorder in response to vision loss. Others experience depression. For some it might result in relapsing into old, maladaptive coping mechanisms like drug use, self harm, or eating disorders.

A big part of my anxiety was how people reacted to my vision loss. It was a cause of their stress. They were worried because they genuinely believed I would never live a happy life without normal vision, and that my life would only be struggle and pain.

I recently saw an old friend who hadn’t heard about my vision loss. The conversation was awkward, but the worst part was how they reacted as though I had experienced an insurmountable tragedy. And even when I assured them I’m happy with my life, they clearly didn’t believe me. They acted like I was just lying or in denial.

I love that people want to empathize with my situation and ask themselves what they would do in my situation, but I hate when the conclusion they come to is something along the lines of “I could never do that, I’d be too miserable thinking about everything I lost, I’d never be able to do anything I enjoyed ever again.” But I did go blind. And I’m not miserable, I’m actually happy with the direction my life is going, and I still enjoy my hobbies, even if I engage with them differently.

I’m not suffering. My life didn’t end with vision loss. It’s not ruined, broken, or worthless.

I read a fanfic that was tagged with whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. A general synopsis of the plot: the whumpee had gone blind due to a curse. It was true love’s kiss that broke the curse. Even from the summary I knew it was going to end with whumpee being cured somehow and that I’d leave that fanfic vaguely dissatisfied no matter how good the rest of the fanfic was.

I can say this for the fanfic: the whumpee had already accepted that they would likely be blind for the rest of their life, but everyone around them was treating it as a tragedy that needed to be fixed, working tirelessly for a cure despite the whumpee’s protests that they didn’t have to.

It actually hit home to my personal experience.

I still left it dissatisfied with the ending. I might love curse fics in that fandom, and I love the “true love’s kiss” trope, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the fact that: an actual person out in the world thought the best happy ending, maybe the only happy ending, would be if the character got their sight back.

(note: I clicked kudos and exited out of the story's page because no fanfic writer deserves unsolicited critique or hate, especially for content I consumed for free and at my own volition.)

Why read a story I knew would disappoint me?

Because blindness representation is so damn rare that I feel like I’m wandering in a desert, dying from thirst and desperate for that oasis. But sometimes that oasis is a mirage and the author is unintentionally telling you that your life is actually awful and you’ll never be fully happy like this. And that is a shit mentality to walk through life with.

I don’t appreciate blindness being a whump plot. I hate it. Hundreds (thousands?) of fanfictions featuring blind characters are about to enter the internet and the overall message is going to be “You poor thing! You must be in so much pain, you must be miserable! Who’s going to save you? Who’s going to comfort you? Wouldn’t it be terrible if there was no one in your life to take care of you? You poor helpless thing!”

And I feel objectified. I feel trivialized. The mirage in the desert is going to become a starch, empty room filled with dozens of water bottles, almost all of them poisoned. My representation is going to hurt me personally, and it’s going to reinforce that idea strangers have about how awful my life must be.

(I returned to school this past month, and every day I’m hesitant to tell someone I’m visually impaired because I don’t want to be treated differently. If I’ve managed to pass as sighted this whole time and then suddenly reveal “oh yeah, I’m visually impaired” I feel this instant silence, this pause of awkwardness as people suddenly question how they’re supposed to treat me. They treated me like a person, and now I’m something strange and unfamiliar.)

I’ve worked so hard to improve representation for blind people, to give internet strangers the exposure to a blind person they need to normalize blindness because I hope that if they’re ever so lucky as to meet a blind person, they’ll treat that person with respect. That hope that another person in the blind community will find a friend they feel comfortable and accepted with. I hope that I’ll meet people who accept my blindness as just another aspect of me (like being bisexual or gender fluid or a writer or a cat lover).

Please don’t turn me and my community into a caricature. Don’t erase everything I’ve worked for with this blog.

To be clear, this is not just me saying "I hate the cure trope" again. This is me saying "the purpose of whump is to painfully hurt your favorite character, and I hate that your idea of pain and suffering is my daily (wonderful) life."

#blindness #whumptober #fanfiction #whump #whumptober 2021 #blind character #disability #ableism #anon

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘

This blog does Male and Gender Neutral readers only however everyone is welcome here regardless of their identity.

Notable tags

#Anklebiters- Any content to do with kiddos including interacting or raising them

#Crossover- Twst + another fandom

#Dark Content- will have generally dark Content. I will tag additional things on top of it as well such as abuse, self harm, ect

#Drama/#Drama tw- any rants that may potentially lead to drama...

#Poly- any ask that asks for poly relationships

#Male Reader- For Male or Male implied reader

#Monster Mc- Mc is not (fully) human

#Not Twst- Off topic stuff

#Not Requests- Other posts that aren't fics

#Not Writing- Not writing lol.

#Pregnancy- Works with pregnancy or deal with it

#Tarantula Wizard Supremecy- a very cute au.

#Trans Reader- For Transgender Readers

#Questions- Questions about a request sent my way I don't understand

#Ships- Not x reader

#Shitposts- random memes and stuff

#You're My Friend Now- Any headcanon that involves MC adopting someone or someone adopting MC. Ex: Crewel and Crowley adopting MC as their own

#(trigger) tw- I always put the subject before a TW when discussing gross or trigger topics such as Dead Dove Tw, Suicide Tw, Self Harm Tw, Incest Mention Tw, ect.

General tags: #Ramshackle, #Yuu

General

This is safespace for Male and Enby readers, I do not write for female readers and I rarely write for feminine readers either.

All fics are GN reader unless stated otherwise.

Anyone can stay as long as they're cool

I don't do nsfw

I'm not a fan of writing passive or weak Yuus at all unless it's interesting. Yuu is already canonically weak and that's boring.

DNI:

No one actually cares about DNIs nor does it actually prevent ppl from interacting. As long as you aren't an asshole or a creep feel free to shoot me asks and shit. Idc.

Writing/Blog Rules!

If you send in an ask with an image that isn't yours please credit the artist or list where you found it. It's unfair to the artist. I may not even post the ask and simply delete it.

I will delete old reqs and uninspiring reqs.

I do not have a character limit however please do not ask for the whole school!

I will write for the manga Yuus

So far I write for everyone including staff

Omegaverse is a no. Get those gender roles outta here.

Please do not ask for super general things such as "A cutesy/shy MC" ect they're very difficult! Please be a bit more specific

I rarley write for body types as I do not think weight nor shape would matter along with most other physical attributes. The only time I can see it being a bigger deal if it's stuff like scars or even tattoos with how many of these boys are losers.

I dont do cheating Requests- unless is the reader being comforted after being cheated on. Cheating is cringe.

Platonic for Ortho and Cheka along with any other baby only.

No incest. lovers.

All characters are depicted as adults abt 18-30 ish because it's funnier to joke abt and gives more freedom for characters to do shit

There's is Dark Content and dirty jokes on here. This is a work of fiction and should stay fiction. If you have a hard time separating fiction from reality or often let dark fiction shape your reality please unfollow and get mental help.

If you try to start drama or send anon hate I'm deleting it.

FAQS

Q: Hi I love your work, is it okay if I make an OC for it?

Sure go ahead! I'm glad you enjoy my stuff!! No need for credit but I would appreciate being tagged so I may see ur creation :)

Q: May I write a fic based off yours?

No need to ask, go for it. I would appreciate if you tag me in it so I can read it too. People can have different takes with similar ideas. As long as you don't straight up plagiarize my stuff. Stuff like a great 7 yuu wasn't invented by me lol.

Q: May I spam likes/rbs???

Absolutely. I'd appreciate if you commented and left tags as well as they make my day

Q: Hey you explain things weird/Come off blunt or Rude/Are you on the spectrum?

Yes I am. Check this out. AND ITS OFFICIAL HERE

Q: Where's the masterlist/taglist for ...?

Almost every work I write is immediately added to the masterlist. All of the Yuus and AUs are under Ramshackle. There are more general tags listed above and within masterlists. Like #Ramshackle.

Q: How are the kitties? Where can I see the kitties?

#cat pics is where you may view many pictures of cats including mine.

Q: May I rant about an idea for ...?

Of course!

Q: May I vent?/I have a question about my sexuality/gender/ect.

Sure I guess, I'll listen. But I'd rather you dm me. This is a TWST blog after all.

Q: Did you write...?

Idk. If it's not in the tags or masterlist its a mystery to me.

Q: May I dm you/join your discord?

Of course.

Q: I'm fem/fem-aligned/questioning. May I still interact?

Go for it.

Q: I sent in an ask and it wasn't answered.

There is a chance I didn't receive however sometime I get very overwhelmed by a lot of asks and delete some. Many asks also become repetitive or have nothing I can add.

Q: Who is Vinn/Mint?

My long lost husband and/or wife roommate.

Q: Wtf is that pride flag?

Rock eating pride flag cause my faves are stupid

Q: Can I tag you in???

I appreciate you all wanting to get to know me, but please stop tagging me in piccrews and quesionaires/ask memes. They're insanely long posts/not mobile friendly and I'm not interested in doing them. Please also stop tagging me in political stuff. I try not to get too political on here to begin with. This is a fanfic blog. Not a personal one. I like having my privacy.

It's still OK to Tag me in ur fics/fanart tho! I really appreciate those!

#reblog

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

--

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

#rowaelin #nobody does it like you do #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin au #ndilyd #i cant believe it's the last part of this fic #crazy #hope you all enjoyed

[celestialevie]

Flower Boy // George Weasley x GN! Reader

Summary: AU where y/n is working at the tattoo shop, while their best friend is an owner of a flower shop. What happenes when expecting to see your best friend for lunch, you end up meeting a tall ginger man. Warnings: fluff, mention of food, tattoos, flowers, George being absolute charmer Word count: 1.7k a/n: enjoy this aboslute fluff of a fic!! and again, english is not my first language so if there are any mistakes please do not hestitate to let me know about it!! ' Evangeline ' is an oc of mine, so she might appear in some of my fics as a side charachter. Also credit to @bwbatta for the dividers!!

Being a tattoo artist was one of the things you were proudest of. It wasn't easy to become one after neglecting art for so many years during High School. But after your best friend opened her own flower shop, she helped you get your inspiration for art being constantly surrounded by flowers and stories of why people were getting flowers. You were happy with everything but not knowing that wasn't the end of your happiness. It all started when you were on your lunch break and decided to swing by your best friend's flower shop to visit her. Expecting to see a small blonde girl behind the counter, you were shocked to see a tall ginger man standing there instead. '' Hello, how can I help you today? '' When ginger looked up, he felt as if someone kicked all of the air from his lungs because before him stood a beautiful person with y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes. Smiling at them as they approached the counter, they were even more beautiful up close. '' Hi, um I'm looking for Evangeline? I didn't know she hired someone new. '' Ginger laughed, nodding his head. '' Ah yes, I'm only here temporarily. Unfortunately, you just missed her, she left to go on a lunch break with my uglier twin. '' You only laughed at that. '' Too bad, but can you please let her know that y/n looked for her? '' He nodded. '' I'll let her know. I'm George by the way. If you ever wanna ask her for me. '' George wiggled his eyebrows, making you shook your head. '' It was nice meeting you, but I have to go now. Please don't break any of her flowers she's not afraid to commit murder if you break something in her shop. '' his eyes widen, making you laugh as you were leaving but his voice stopped you. '' Hey! You come here often? '' he asks '' Considering I use to work here and my best friend owns it, yes. '' and with that, you left the shop, heading back to your workplace.

As the clock turned changed time to 8 pm, you relaxed finally going home after a stressful day. Just as you were open the door, Evangeline barged in. '' Hello, heard you've been looking for me. '' She grinned at her best friend, attacking them with a hug. '' Hello to you too,'' you said returning the hug '' I see the tall ginger you failed to mention to me kept his word. '' smirk appearing in the corner of your mouth as you recall your encounter with him from earlier today. '' It seemed to me you left a trance on Georgie boy. '' Evangeline wiggled her eyebrows, making you laugh '' You can't do that to me, I wanted to have lunch with my best friend only to find she ditched me for and I quote the ginger man '' uglier twin '', leaving me to get almost a heart attack. For a second I thought I walked into a wrong shop. '' Both of you walked out of the shop, heading towards your apartment. '' Speaking of that date, you also failed to mention you were dating someone, and here I thought we tell each other everything, tsk tsk. I'm disappointed. '' you nudged her, blush creeping on her cheeks. '' Oh my god are you blushing? He's making you blush just by thinking of him? You need to tell me about him. '' and so she did. She told you how his name is Fred and along with his twin, he has 6 siblings, making both of them the middle children. It was very interesting to know about a man who took an interest in my best friend. Deciding she'll spend the night at yours, you both got cosy into pyjamas and watched movies until you both crashed. The next morning you went together to work, letting you know she'll come to your work for the lunch break. So when your lunch break came, you didn't expect her to walk in with the same ginger man from yesterday. '' y/n/n, I brought us a bodyguard to keep us safe during our lunch break. '' grin played on her lips, making you shake your head. '' Yeah because we're so in danger that someone is gonna try and kill us while eating Taco Bell. '' George snorted, making you look at him. He looked even cuter than yesterday if that's even possible. Maybe there was something in gingers that you'd yet to discover that makes them so attractive. '' So flower boy, what do you do when you're not being a bodyguard or taking care of Evie's flower shop. '' he was grinning at the nickname. '' I own a joke shop with my brother, but we're currently redecorating inside so we had to close it for a week or two. '' An attractive businessman, that's a first one you snorted to yourself. Spending an hour with two of them, turned into a mostly back and forth conversation between George and you. Soon Evie had to leave, her lunch break coming to an end. To your surprise, George asked you if he could stay for a bit longer, which you said yes to since you had no client for another hour. He asked you about your art style, which, according to George made your eyes sparkle up with happiness, making him chuckle when you started to ramble not even noticing. '' You're rambling. '' he chuckled making you blush a little. '' Sorry, sometimes I can get carried away without even noticing. '' George smiled, taking your hand in his, making you look at him. '' Don't apologise, it's adorable. '' blushing even harder, you looked at the clock making you realise that in 15 minutes your client should be coming. '' Oh shit I didn't even realise how much time has passed already, I have to prepare for the next client. But hey if you ever want a tattoo you know where to come. '' You said and with that, you disappeared somewhere behind in the storage, kind of hiding from flower boy, because he's starting to make you feel things you haven't felt before.

Everything was happening so fast, in the next few days he kept coming either alone or in a company of Evangeline. She knew what she was doing and she was enjoying it. You even got to meet Fred, him wanting to meet the fascinating best friend of his girlfriend and the person who his brother can't seem to stop talking about. So when George asked you out, you said yes having nothing to lose. Deciding on a picnic, both of you packed some food, and he picked you up after work, leading you to a park. He prepared a blanket and put down the baskets where food and drinks were, sitting down and relaxing. '' How was your day? '' you began the conversation. '' It was good, mostly spent the entire day thinking of what to bring for our date tonight. '' a smile appeared on his face. '' How was yours? Any interesting tattoos you did? '' so you told him about this older guy who had half of his back tattooed with some weird game character, which made him laugh. Looking up at the sky, it looked amazing. '' Isn't the view beautiful? '' a grin played on your lips as you looked at the stars. George was only looking at you, and how beautiful you looked under the stars. If he wasn't already falling, he definitely would've now. '' Yeah, it couldn't be more beautiful. '' you looked at him and he was looking at you. '' Stop looking at me like that! '' He grinned at you, placing a hand on your cheek. '' Like what? '' he said softly while looking you in the eyes. '' L-like I've placed all the stars in the sky as if I'm the most unique thing on this planet. '' you were avoiding his eyes, knowing you wouldn't be able to breathe if you do. George had other plans, because he softly placed finger under your chin, making you look up at him. His eyes were filled with so much adoration, making you get lost in them. '' I've been looking at you like that ever since we first met, darling. I've grown quite fond of you from the first time our eyes met. '' a smile was spread on both of your lips '' God how much I love seeing you smile. I like you so much, love. '' placing your hands on both of his cheeks '' Can I tell you something? '' you said quietly almost a whisper. '' You can tell me anything. '' ''I like you too flower boy. '' even bigger smile was on his lips. '' Could you say it again? '' you furrowed your eyebrows. '' Were you not listening? '' he shook his head. ' No, I was, I just like the sound of your voice. '' you shook your head at his goofiness. '' Can you kiss me? '' a grin appeared on his lips '' Thought you'd never ask. '' and with that, he placed his soft lips on top of yours, lips mending with each other. It was like fireworks exploded inside you, from how much happiness you felt in this moment. Everything was perfect.

The next day you decided to visit Evangeline in the shop, expecting to see I guy you've grown s much fond of. And there he was stood with Fred and Evangeline, his beautiful smile playing on his lips. '' Hello, hope I'm not interrupting a big secret meeting. '' you joked as you approached them. George pulled you in his embrace, placing a small kiss on your temple as he sneaked an arm around your shoulder. '' Of course not love. '' you smiled at him, starting a conversation with him, not noticing how Fred and Evangeline were looking at the two of you. '' I haven't seen her smile like that in ages. '' Evie said, '' Hey flower boy, '' Fred began only to be shot by a dirty look by you. '' Hey, only I can call him that,'' you said and with that making everyone laugh including yourself. This is the happiest you've been in forever, and you could only hope it could stay like this forever.

#harry potter #hogwarts #george wealsey x reader #george weasley #fred and george #george wealsey imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley one shot #weasley twins #hp #fred and george weasley #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst #george weasley smut #fred weasley fluff

[merihn]

hey, i hope you don't mind me sending this, i just feel like i need to talk about this. i'm writing my first bit of smut for the jatp for smut week on monday, and i'm nearly finished. it's kind of exciting but also making me nervous because i know there's been a lot of bad stuff in the fandom about smut. but i really want to write it and share it with people so i'm trying to focus on how many awesome writers there are that include smut in their work and ignore everything else. because i'm guessing the people who write it won't mind reading it, right?

sorry, this is a bit more of a stream of thoughts than an ask so you don't have to answer it. i just don't really have anyone to talk to about this. and i am super excited and pleased with myself because i've almost got to the end and i've written it all in two days, which is amazing for me. but i wish i could be happy about that without worrying about the other stuff, that's all

Of course I don't mind! I'm quite flattered you thought of me 😊

This fandom is ridiculous about smut and I just... I really don't understand it. I've said it before but it bears repeating: I've been in plenty of child/teen/young adult aimed media fandoms and I've never come across the hate that this fandom has for smut. I mean, I started in Harry Potter back when I was 13 and the crazy shit I read in that would make this fandom's heads explode. Like, there was SO much smut and even, *gasp* adult/teen smut.... like, SO MUCH. And we didn't have the warnings and tags back then that we have now so you were basically just going in blind and hoping for the best. At least now you have the option of excluding entire tags and ratings if that's what you want to do. You're not scrounging through weird archives and websites for random fics and just hoping for the best.

Nowadays people have so much control over their fandom experience and it really pisses me off that these people are trying to control everyone else's fandom experience too. I know that it's been happening in various forms since fandom began but this really feels different and more full on than anything else I've experienced. But it's also true that previous fandom venues have been very different to Tumblr. It was sort of harder to see a lot of the shit back on livejournal because someone had to either link you to it or you had to go looking for it. On tumblr you see a lot more stuff just floating around because of the nature of the website. I think it was easier for me to not see or engage in back in the day.

But these people really need to get it in their heads that everyone engages in fandom differently and that if they don't like something, they should just ignore it. I do it all the time. I don't sit around and complain (in the open lol) that there is SO much J*ke fic in this fandom and that they're so often a secondary pairing which means it really cuts down on the amount of fic I can read. I just move on. I don't ship it, but I'm not trying to make that anyone else's problem (to clarify, I love them on the show but I don't wanna read about it. To me, fandom is exploring where canon leaves off -- though, hypocritically, I really love Willex, but there are SO many fics of them I can't read bc of background J*ke). I will complain about it to my friends because that's what you do. You keep it private, because it's a personal opinion.

You don't have to like smut. Plenty of people don't. But you don't get to tell other people that they're not allowed to like it or write it, and you don't get to call people p*dos for writing it. It's plain wrong and disgusting. And I've seen some people justify writing smut in this fandom by saying they've aged up the characters but I think that's kind of close to pandering to those purists. Teenagers have sex. Whether you like it or not, they do. And a lot of people like to explore their characters/relationships through sex, or just write smut because smut is fun! It doesn't have to mean something, and it doesn't have to be epic to justify it's existence. People have sex and also like to write about it.

Ahhh, sorry. This ended up being a damn essay. I guess I had a lot more feelings about this than I thought I did.

I think there are plenty of people in this fandom that like smut, and I personally know some who do but are scared to publicly say anything because of how full on the anti's are. Which is really sad. I know I was scared to post my first smut, and I actually wrote like three different fics before I finally gathered the courage to post my first one, so I'm not bashing anyone for not doing it, or even admitting to liking it. 💜💜💜

You're always welcome to message me if you want someone to talk about this stuff with, and if you need another pair of eyes on your fic for this week, I'm happy to take a look. As I always say, I'm not much of a beta but I can make suggestions and do a spelling/punctuation sweep 😊

I still worry every time I post smut, but I haven't gotten any hate for it, so hopefully that means most of the purists have either blocked me or just don't give a shit about me. Either works for me.

Last thought: fandom should be FUN. Stop trying to control other people and just have fun.

#sorry this took me so long to answer #I wanted to think about it a bit first and wake up properly #idk if it even makes sense but hopefully it does #hopefully it's not all completely disconnected and random and rambly #well I know it's rambly but still #but I mean it please message me if you want to talk about this more #or if you'd like me to look at your fic #I mean I really should concentrate on my own fics bc I still have two to finish and a whole one to write #but whatever #fandom #fanfiction #writing #discourse tm #anonymous #jatp

[angy-mouse]

Boundaries (Updated 10/15/22)

Violation of these rules will result in a deleted ask, repetitive violation or a violation in reblogs or replies will result in a block

Speaking as someone who read smut since age 12, that shit will fuck you up mentally and it's not fun to deal with once you realize it. I wish so badly someone had explained this to me when I was younger because ik if I realized there was a reason beyond 'this is for grownups only' I would have pulled back. See this post if you want more information on why minors shouldn't be reading smut, but if that's not enough reason for you-

I don't want anyone without an age indicator interacting. Respect my boundaries. Here's the list of accepted age indicators

-Don't send asks about any CC drama, how you can't believe I write for x bc they z, how x writes this character better why do I write them like that, how you think x is actually okay with smut, etc. Negativity isn't welcome here, and I only accept hard proof to begin writing for someone new.

-Nicknames that are okay to call me include: love, hun, darling, sugar, peach, dude, bro, b, muffin, fellow queer, mousey, mousie, etc and mouse ofc bc it's my name (I prefer mouse to angy idk why some of you call me angy). I hate being called bestie, I understand thats the hip thing the kids are doing these days but it feels gross and insincere, which I detest

-Don't bark at me.

-Use tone indicators. If there's no tone indicators I will assume you're serious

-If you have something nice to say, please understand I often don't know how to take compliments and don't get upset with me for not responding the way you want, even though I greatly appreciate it. Don't berate me for something I can't control

-I swear. It doesn't always mean I'm trying to be mean or harsh they're just enhancers to emphasize a part of the sentence (especially goddamn bc I'm a goddamn hick)

-Don't come to my ask box for irl advice, or to overshare or anything like that as it makes me extremely uncomfortable, in general keep the irl talk to a minimum (ex: talk of irl sexual encounters, romantic encounters, your bad day at work, etc) Here's where I went into detail on what is and isnt allowed: link

-Don't send me links or urls with no context, thats sus. If you have something to send me either send a screenshot of the content instead of a link or say in your ask what is in the link.

-Do not flirt with me, especially not sexually. A light-hearted 'wow mouse you deserve a major sucking off for that fic' is fine, funny joke, but I've had to block people bc they were like seriously and creepily coming onto me. When in doubt, refer to #4 about tone indicators.

-Do NOT mention or send my work to any CC, whether I write for them or not. Ya bitch has anxiety, I don't want them to know I exist.

The bottom line of all of these is 'this makes me uncomfortable please don't do it' and really the only reason you have to knowingly disobey them is you're an asshole

#angymouse #rules #mousesqueaks #minors dni

[bthump]

I am curious why you don't like het pairings across the board since I ship both het and same sex pairings . I understand LGBTQ+ peoples' desire to see themselves represented in media , but I think that when it comes to fandom people tend to fetish same sex pairings especially mlm pairings and bashing female characters that get in the way of their ship.

I’ve done my fair share of navel gazing about why I hate 99.9% of het in media since I was a teen and I could write a long list of reasons that probably influence my preferences, like gender essentialism, the vast vast vast majority of creators being men influencing how they write women + het relationships in ways that offend me, the fact that it’s the default and my interests are often influenced by spite, the rote way it’s usually written, i hate 99% of the tropes that are usually associated with it, the fact that irl I have 0 interest in engaging in a hetero relationship myself and therefore can’t relate...

but yeah ultimately I don’t know or care or think it matters lol, the vast majority of het ships just do not spark joy for me.

And now, The Discourse, which I would love to put under a cut but apparently that’s just not in the cards right now, thanks tumblr.

please don’t reblog I guess?

I just like, disagree with the rest of your ask lol, sorry. And I know this is a very standard take in fandom so I’ll try to explain why I disagree. I appreciate you asking politely Anon and I’m hoping this doesn’t come across as too annoyed or anything - like I’m annoyed by the discourse in general lol, not by you specifically.

In my experience in online fandom the most female character bashing I’ve seen, and the most vicious, has come from fans of rival het ships, and regardless I don’t particularly consider “bashing” fictional characters to be much of an issue. The problem is when people do so in offensive ways (eg “she’s a slut” or w/e lol), and then the issue is people believing and saying offensive shit, not people hating fictional characters, and the focus should be on general awareness of what misogyny (among other oppressions) is and how to avoid perpetuating it in all areas of life, and not on declaring groups of fans problematic depending on which fictional characters they do or don’t like.

And sure, some majority m/m fans do bash female characters, and some do it in offensive ways, but I don’t think it’s at a rate higher than other het fans, or even f/f fans in the few fandoms with rival f/f ships ime, so it bugs me that people act like it’s an m/m fangirl thing.

I also think fandom discourse wildly misuses the term “fetishizing.” Fetishizing, in yk oppressor/oppressed contexts, means to reduce someone down to a single aspect of their being in a way that dehumanizes them. And like 99% of fanfic does the opposite, shipping is all about being invested in and exploring characters as people (or trying to, bc lbr it’s amateur fiction and writing fully fleshed out 3 dimensional people is a skill that amateurs can’t necessarily be expected to have perfected, which is a big reason discourse focusing so hard on problematic fanfiction is a waste of time lol). Someone who isn’t a gay/bi man getting turned on by imagining 2 dudes fucking and writing a story about it isn’t automatically fetishizatizing gay men, even if it’s a straight woman doing it, even if it’s 2k words of sex written to turn readers on.

Fetishization doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with sex - it can, but it can also be sexless. For instance, a gay character showing up in one episode of a sitcom to make limp wrist jokes, or a gay character showing up in one episode of a drama to die of aids and make you sad, is fetishization. Conversely a pwp about say Guts and Griffith fucking after a battle or something is almost guaranteed to have more care and consideration for the emotions involved and characterization, because the people who are inclined to write that are already invested in the characters as characters rather than generic gay stereotypes.

Fic writers can write offensive/homophobic/fetishizing things just like anyone else can (and having het ships as well as gay ships doesn’t make someone less likely to write homophobic things either), but the way fandom discourse reduces everything to wide generalities is less than useless imo, the key is to address actual specific behaviours, like the aformentioned “I hate X female character” vs “X female character is a slut who doesn’t deserve Y.” The former is a non-issue, the latter is a symptom of ingrained misogynistic attitudes.

Anyway ultimately I think fanfic is like, the least useful thing for media oriented discourse and activism to focus on for various reasons including the lack of reach and impact fic has, the lack of systemic quality control, the fact that fic writers aren’t pros and aren’t getting paid, the fact that fic writers aren’t pros and shouldn’t be expected to have the talent required to convey difficult subjects in completely inoffensive ways even if their personal politics are beyond reproach - because it does take straight up writing skill as well as understanding, the fact that fic writers have no industry power or influence, the fact that the vast majority of fic writers are marginalized in some way themselves (and misogyny against real women should always take precedence over misogyny against fictional women), the fact that many are just teenagers, etc

tl;dr I don’t think women preferring to ship m/m is inherently problematic, and I don’t think the current state of online discourse is equipped to even address the cases when it can be problematic lol because nuance is virtually impossible in unmoderated spaces where reblogging/tweeting divorces something from context and twitter posts and tumblr asks have a character limit and vague non-specific hot takes always get more clout and notes than carefully considered nuanced discussions and essays - and amateur unpublished writing is so unimpactful in the grand scheme of things that it barely matters anyway.

#ask #b #Anonymous #theme: discourse

[scummy-writes]

Hi! I didn't know who to talk to about this, but since you're one of the people in the fandom I look up to, I figured I should gather my courage and send this ask. As a writer, how do you deal with people's underwhelming response? Very few likes, just one or two reblogs, no respect or acknowledgement unless you open requests... It's breaking my heart at this point and I don't know what to do.

a…aaaa.. I can’t believe someone looks up to me. 

I’m sorry if this post is kind of all over the place. I kinda jump around with topics a lot.

Well, first off, I’m not going to lie- usually, I feel a bit hurt. It always hurts writing fics/drabbles/hcs and never seeing any response, or just very very little response. I often don’t write fluff or more serious topics because I know that those themes are always going to be overlooked for my smut instead. And if you’re a minor, writing smut is a no-go, which makes trying to gain traction or readers even more difficult.

There have been several times where I’ve barely gotten any notes on stuff I’ve poured a lot of time into. I’ve even written an off-anon request before only to have the person who requested it not even like/reblog it, or make any sort of comment. I’ve been there, we’ve all been there, and it’s tough to climb back up. 

I’m not sure how long you’ve been following me, but there was a point where my normal note count for hcs dropped from 700 notes down to 20-60 notes if I was lucky, just depending on what I was writing about. In fact, I even left the blog due to some bullying I was enduring and the combination of barely getting a note count that I had considered ‘good’. Since I’ve came back, I’ve focused on what made me happy, and even though I still have the knee-jerk reaction, I’ve learned not to try and compare notes. Ultimately, it’s made me happy, though I might have a bit of ‘survivor bias’ going on since I’ve been collecting readers since the start of 2017. 

I have a few things that help me out, and one of them is learning to appreciate the notes I do have.

For example, even though its just been a day, I only have about 29 notes on my recent yooran drabble. Thats not including my own reblogs, and then if I were to not include friend reblogs, it’d be about 27 or 26. That’s incredibly low for me, personally, because if I post up a fic (depending on the character and theme) I can get around 80-100 notes depending on how lucky I am.

(Now thats not me trying to tell you 30ish notes isn’t a lot, because it is!! It is a lot and if you ever get that many notes on a post you should feel proud of it! But, if you’re me and you’ve been here for a while, that’s low compared to other posts of mine. Please keep reading so I can explain more: )

If this was back to last year, when I was contemplating leaving my blog, that would have hurt me a lot more than it does today, because I was constantly in a loop of comparing notes with my other posts or even my friends posts. I had convinced myself that notes = quality, when that’s not the case at all. Believe it or not, just because a post has 5 notes, or 1 note, or even 0 notes, doesn’t mean whatever content on it is terribly written, or shoddy, or dumb. There have been wonderful hc posts, wonderful pictures of art that I have seen that have barely gotten 10 notes. 

So I think one thing that is hard to get yourself to learn is that a lack of notes doesn’t mean what you are producing is bad. Learning this is hard, and it’s especially hard when you’re constantly discouraged by lack of notes, but you need to write for yourself first and foremost. I haven’t been writing publicly for long, in fact I think the first fanfics I published were in 2016, but I had been writing since middle school. I used to carry a worn down composition notebook and write the most absolutely cringiest fanfiction ever. It had self inserts, it had ocs that were children of me and my favorites, it had terrible, terrible, references to games/music I loved as a kid- but no one read it but me. I never posted it online, and I wrote it to make me happy- and cringy middle school me was super fucking happy with that story. I’m pretty sure I was working through a second compositon notebook before I moved on from the show I was writing about. 

From that point on, I knew I liked writing. I joined writing classes, wrote cringy fiction for my english teachers to read (good fucking god bless my teachers for putting up with my terrible shit but still encouraging me).  

Eventually, since I liked writing so much and my drawing skills declined, I ended up promising to write stories for my friends birthdays. Where one person would be reading it, besides me, and that’s how it was until I posted my first MM fic on AO3. Even with those first few fics, I feel like it’s unfair to count them now, because they were posted just a few months after the game released, I believe, and I honestly just really consider myself lucky that those first two mm fics of mine got the traction they did.

But I think because I was so used to writing to make myself happy, it really fucked me up when I started trying on focusing my writing on only making others happy instead of myself. 

So, a lot of newer folks might not know this, since I’m assuming a lot of people think this is just a pretty photo queue blog with occasional posts, but I started off writing Hcs on here. At first, I don’t think they got a huge traction, but as I slowly got more followers, I got more notes and requests. But eventually it got extremely taxing to keep those up, because what I had wanted was to make others happy with them, but it’s hard to believe you’re doing a good job when you drop from 700 to 20-60 notes. And so I stressed a lot to the point of ‘leaving’ (but as you can see that ended up just being a few month hiatus), but one thing was that I was forced to acknowledge how bad my viewpoint was on the whole situation. I had lost the motivation of writing for myself to make me happy, and instead tried to treat myself as a writing machine only meant to make others happy. That’s not a healthy viewpoint when it comes to writing, especially if you’re doing this as a hobby.

Because of all that, I stopped writing hc posts and focused on fics, because writing fanfics made me happy. It still makes me happy, and because I kept on truckin and still posting, I’m accomplishing things I never thought I would accomplish. 

Writing for success is a long, hard, road that will often leave you unsatisfied, but writing for yourself is a shorter road that will make you happy- even if it’s just venting away emotions you couldn’t let out in any other way.

If it helps you out any, because I’m unsure if I’m making any sense, some pieces that I’m super happy about are pieces that no one but me and maybe one other person has seen. They’re locked away as drafts or in folders and I’m even unsure if I’ll share some of them.

Besides all of the stuff I’ve mentioned, if I’m feeling bad and what I just told you isn’t helping me, sometimes I just talk to a friend or two. Just hearing someone in real time, even if it’s possibly extremely bias or something, tell me that they like my stories or they think my writing is good- that still means a lot to me, and sometimes it perks me up. If that’s not an option with you, you can always talk to your family as well, or old teachers you may have shown some of your work to. I’m very fortunate to have a few teachers willing to help me out with a few questions, even though I’ve…long since graduated orz.

I’m sorry if none of this helps. But if anything, please please don’t give up writing. If you choose to do something like that, please have it be 100% your own decision that isn’t influenced by a note or hit count. I’m positive that whatever you are writing is good, and I know that not seeing that note count get higher hurts, but that note count has absolutely no bearing on how well written your story is.

If theres anything else I can talk to you about, please feel free to send me some more questions, and again I am really sorry if this didn’t help you.

#anonymous #scum talks #long post

[funkzpiel]

Send these to your favorite Authors and let them blab! What is your total word count on AO3? How often do you write? Do you have a routine for writing? What's your favorite kinks/tropes/pairing? Do you have a favorite fic of yours? Your fic with the most kudos? Anything you don't like about your writing? Now something you do like! Tag some of your favorite Authors to spread some love

aawww Thank you so much! And thank you to @coffeesugarcream​ @fantastikobskurialsfantastikobskurials @chameleonchanging​ @angryzilla​ @luminis-infinite​ @ladyoftheshrimp​ @freedomisbeforethee​ and @thegaypumpingthroughyourveins​ for also tagging me, you guys are amazing and I love all the love spreading in this specific tag game - what a good.

WHAT IS YOUR TOTAL WORD COUNT ON AO3?Hmm. With my Funkspiel account: 247,587

(Considering it’s only a little over a year old (that I wrote with the account, not just bookmarked fics), I’m pretty pleased with that – IF ONLY I HAD FOCUSED ON MY OWN NOVEL WITH ALL THE FUCKING PRODUCTIVITY DAMN IT)

With my original Spazzlings account: 126,615

And who even knows, if you end up including my FF.Net days.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU WRITE?Waaaaaay more often than I used to. When I joined this fandom specifically, my productivity (by comparison to before) skyrocketed. I try to write every day. I actually resisted writing fanfiction for this fandom for a month or two before finally giving in. I decided to use it as a medium to dust off my writing fingers and see what feedback I got in order to gauge if trying at my own novel again was worth it. So the productivity has been hugely helpful, and it’s been a great coping mechanism for other things – so in conclusion, a lot more than I ever thought I would.

DO YOU HAVE A ROUTINE FOR WRITING?Like a process? Not particularly. I supposed for longer fics, I story map and write scenes out of order as they come and slowly connect them until the chapter is done. For mini-fics, there is no rhyme or reason. I write them just to write them and don’t usually bother with re-reads or edits because the point was to get it out there, not for it to be perfect. Otherwise I stress myself out and take centuries to post. 

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE a.) KINKS, b.) TROPES and c.) PAIRINGS?a. KINKSSo many, but my favs are probably: 

dub/non-con where the party (usually someone powerful) ends up unwillingly super liking it)

Non-consensual Body Transformation/Modification

Size Kink (height or other things >:D)

Desperation

b. TROPESSo many, but my favs are probably:

Sick Fic (probably my most fav) where strong character won’t admit they’re sick and any number of things stems from that (passing out, getting coddled, being softer than normal, etc.)

Hurt/Comfort

Hero vs Villain Obsession

Kidnapping (see above)

Power Dynamics (particularly if strong character realizes they sub and didn’t know it before)

Getting so angry that uncontrollable accents happen

c. PAIRINGSFor Fantastic Beast Fandom - (keep in mind, these are FAVs. I like many.):

Thesival

Grindelgraves

Gramander

In general (just a few I return to a lot):

Wesker/Chris

Reaper76

Brock Rumlow and (Rollins or Cap)

Stever Rogers and many people, boi deserves to be loved

Maxwell Roth/Jacob Frye

DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE FIC OF YOURS?Uuh… I mean, I do really love the progress I’ve made on And The Tag Read Simply Pretty. I also love the fic (I haven’t fucking finished) from Resident Evil called Both Sides of the Gun. 

YOUR FIC WITH THE MOST KUDOS?Definitely gonna be in the Funkspiel account, let’s see… 865 kudos for And The Tag Read Simply Pretty - jesus, thank you guys so much I don’t fucking deserve you.

ANYTHING YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOUR WRITING?(Soft, fond sigh) oh shall I count the ways? I struggle with repeating words or getting in the habit of overusing certain ways of describing a thing. I think I fail to describe surroundings. I forget minor details from previous chapters (like someone getting a cut and suddenly it’s not an issue any more). I shift tenses a lot. I think sometimes I don’t hit the mark on certain emotions quite as provocatively or uh… richly as I’d like. Sometimes I think I overreact the characters or it hits a little cheesy or strong. Or I repeat a point too much that only needs to be said once. I’m not the strongest on banter or witty/funny dialogue. Research and slang is definitely a weak point for me. Like, I can go on and on; but those are things I try to look out for when editing my chaptered shit.

NOW SOMETHING YOU DO LIKE!…hmm… I like the way I use words, sometimes. Like, the melody behind the words. And I like it when I’m able to have a circular story when the beginning feeds back into the end. I think I can solidly ideate - just the execution lacks.

TAG YOUR FAVS:God, so many of you have tagged each other - but you my favs! So if you haven’t been tagged and I miss you, please do it. I subconsciously tag you. Otherwise (I apologize for double tagging some of you, BUT I LOVE YOU):

@qed221b @luminis-infinite @thegaypumpingthroughyourveins @coffeesugarcream @rospeaks @hamelin-born @mercurial-tenacity @descaladumidera @headsindreams @angryzilla @allforthegreatergood @axilarts (CAUSE GURL YOU SLAY THE FICTION WHEN YOU WRITE) @aislinnsiofra @ladyoftheshrimp @gudegudeland @freedomisbeforethee @wanderingquill

I have so much anxiety that I missed people – I LOVE YOU ALL