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#i am still new to fanfiction
blindmagdalena · 5 months
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Eat Your Ego, Honey ( Homelander x OC )
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ongoing series. words to date: 49k. 18+ main themes: dark romance, stalking, sex work, unhealthy relationships, alcohol, codependency, trauma bonding, rough sex. see AO3 for detailed tags.
summary: Layla Alden is an escort who specializes in the marriage of sex and emotional intimacy. In an effort to protect herself in an inherently hazardous industry, she enforces a strict ‘No Supes’ policy. Homelander doesn't take no for an answer, and insists that she take him on as a client. She's quickly caught up in the maelstrom of his life, forcing them both to confront feelings of obsession, danger, love, trauma, sex, and how the entanglement of all of those things have shaped their lives.
Homelander is an enigma. One moment he is moving with sexual prowess, eager and confident in himself, and the next he is subdued, utterly entranced by nothing more than a bare-handed touch. He shows all the trappings of a man who has had plenty of sex, but very little intimacy.
AO3 Link | Spotify Playlist
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Chapter One: Company
Chapter Two: It Will Come Back
Chapter Three: Stalker's Tango
Chapter Four: One Way Or Another
Chapter Five: You're Mine
Chapter Six: Gods & Monsters
Chapter Seven: Middle of the Night
Chapter Eight: I Found Love
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stormyykat · 9 months
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ive always loved how the pirate exists in the spiral not because of some greater destiny they're bound to, but because they just wanted to survive. contrasted with the wizards 'im only here because I have to be, who else is going to do this'. something something the spiral exists because of the wizard, the pirate exists because of the spiral something something
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ender1821 · 3 months
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skin scarred and sun-kissed
Chapter 1 posted on ao3: read here!
Even in a game shrouded with secrets and steeped with bloodshed, a particular bond shines through.
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A collection of writing inspired by Pearl and Gem’s relationship in each session of Secret Life!
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I love reading fanfiction to better understand characters I watched in a TV show or film. I can get to know them so much better from the words on a page, than watching them and hearing them speak.
I see patterns in facial movements, I see gait patterns, I see patterns in the shapes made by limbs and bodies. I hear intonation changes in voices like music. I notice patterns everywhere - it is making sense of these patterns and connecting things with their meanings that I struggle with, greatly.
When it comes to real people, if I watch long enough, I start to pin the meaning to these repeated movements and expressions and sounds. With fictional characters, I can't do that, as I can't ask them what their own behaviour means. I am unable to "read between the lines" at all.
When I read, the words hand me the meaning at the same time as explaining the visual or auditory that goes along with it. There is less necessary "reading between the lines", as those gaps are filled by words much more than on a TV show, where there is only dialogue.
I can tell when dialogue is cleverly written, I can find links and patterns, I can recognise when there is a reference to something - either that happened earlier in the show or timeline, or to something external that I am not aware of. My difficulty is that I simply don't understand it. I can't get all of that information from reading, either, but I certainly have a lot less gaps to fill.
Afterwards, I can rewatch and have a much deeper understanding of the characters. I start to be able to see them as fully-formed people, rather than just the words they say from the script.
I like to read different people's interpretations, also. Whilst it can be confusing, not knowing which interpretation I agree with more (as I can't much interpret behaviour or figurative language at all, on my own), it is also useful in giving me different perspectives to consider.
I might read several different fanfictions on a specific character or pairing, then rewatch relevant scenes several times; each time with one of those fanfiction's interpretations in mind.
Some of my favourite characters ever only became so strongly favoured because I read a fantastic fanfiction revolving around them, and started to understand them beyond the lines of a script.
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trans-xianxian · 4 months
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ALL MOVED IN TO MY NEW PLACE!!! took us six hours to drive all my shit to the new place, and about three hours to get the rats settled, play furniture tetris, sit on the ground waiting for pizza, sit on the ground eating pizza, put my bed together, play more furniture tetris, and get the bunnies settled, but now I am cozy wozy in my bed hehe :3c unpacking and decorating will commense tomorrow but for now. rest
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safyresky · 5 months
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🆕Crystal Springs Chapter 24: Blizzards NOW UP
and YES, you read the emoji right! It's NEW CONTENT!
Chapter 24: Blizzards
Snow immediately hits the fan once the Cold Front gets back to the Pole.
(HERE) on ao3 and (HERE) on fanfiction dot net!
I am so HAPPY to FINALLY post NEW content for CS, like, PROPER NEW. These chapters coming up have not seen the light of day since 2017, and weren't even TOUCHED for the rewrite(s) until 2023. Here's a little snippet of what snow hits the fan upon Jack and Jacqueline's return to the Pole from Frost Manor...
“Run,” she said, darkly. The briefest of beats passed by, Jack frozen in place as he assessed the scene. Incoming avalanche. The Workshop and town nearby. Jacqueline stiff in front of him, the ground cracking around her. The far-off rumble, fast approaching. He took a step forward. “RUN!” she repeated, with a bit more urgency and a softer current. Decision made, Jack whipped a finger up in the air. “Fabulous idea, Jacqueline.” Turning sharply on his heel, Jack shot forward, feeling out the snow beneath him. The speed, the sturdiness, the density; hands glowing, the snow below him rumbled, propping him up. With a grin, he sliced his hands through the air behind him, using the speed and momentum of the avalanche to bring up his own slab of snow, racing down the hills. Snow shot up behind him, ice pellets spraying as he zig zagged down towards the town, casting his eyes back every so often. It had been a long time since he surfed an avalanche, but if he had timed everything right (and he knew he had, he was Jack frostbitten Frost for a reason, after all), he’d have just enough time to clear the square and divert the snow. Assuming the Dome would let him, he thought with a frown, quickly glancing up. Unsure if the cracking was from the avalanche or the Dome, Jack landed in the square, a sharp turn stopping his snowy descent. The snow spiralled out behind him, powder flying as he anchored himself to the ground, staring down the fast-approaching cloud of white with a quiet, focused, determination. “Hey Jack!” said a familiar voice behind him, footsteps fast approaching. “Everything oka—AYE! Is that what I think it is?!” “Yes,” Jack said, quietly. “It’d be in your best interest to get everyone inside as quickly and quietly as possible, Curtis, if you wouldn’t mind—" “AVALANCHE!” The elf yelled, pointing up at the cloud of snow heading down towards them. “NOT screaming,” Jack snapped. “How ELSE do you expect everyone to get to safety in time?!” Curtis asked, as elves began to take notice and run into the nearest buildings. Thankfully, the square was fairly flat. The angles just weren’t conducive to an avalanche, nor was the amount of snow in the square. It was unlikely that Curtis’s cry had made things worse, Jack realized, relieved. “Come on, everyone in! Please refrain from panicking until you are safely indoors, and keep the doors clear to make sure everyone gets in safely and has their turn to panic!” Curtis shouted, waving everyone in. Shopkeepers and city workers threw open their doors, elves rushing into whatever building was closest as powdered snow began to drift into the square. “That’s everyone?!” “Yeah, just about! What the heck is going on?” “Ah—” “Silver bells! Is that Jacqueline?!” Up in the hills, the slab of snow that held Jacqueline came to a stop. Her arms were bent at the elbow, palms pulled towards her, a look of intense concentration on her face. The avalanche was, oddly enough, slowing down. The cracks reduced, though the ground was still rumbling. She’s still fighting, Jack realized.
Will Jacqueline succeed in fighting it off? Or is she about to ruin everyone's day? Is Jack gonna be able to circumvent an ENTIRE AVALANCHE? (Duh, he's Jack Fucking Frost!)
Read on to find OUT (a03 link here) (fanfic link here)
Want to start from the top? You can read the Prologue: An Encounter HERE on ao3 and HERE on ff.net!
Summary and some author's notes under the cut! :)
It's been almost a year since Jack Frost thawed and things are looking...well, not so great. Jack's powers are seemingly gone. Without them, the Dome that keeps the North Pole safe from the cold and its magic controlled is melting, putting everything and everyone magical at risk. Unable to hide his power shortage any longer, Jack is forced to admit the truth. Thankfully, there is a solution: enacting the Legate Law, bringing Jack and the sister that he hurt so many centuries ago back together again. But when Jacqueline starts experiencing destructive blackouts, the pair are forced to head back home to Crystal Springs, bringing Jack face to face with the rest of the family. Needless to say, between getting his powers back, helping his sister figure out what in the FROST those blackouts even were, reconciling with his parents, meeting the two even younger siblings he didn't even KNOW he had, NOT TO MENTION the ancient threat that's had it out for the ENTIRE Frost family finally making a move? Saving Christmas (regrettably) is looking to be a little bit...complicated.
So...what's new with this chapter? (a la the lil' what's new updates I had when I was posting up to Chp 23 to ff.net!)
I took the bones of the original and added muscles AND meat AND skin AND EVEN CLOTHES.
word count check: ->CS 2014 (the OG): 5,010k ->CS 202X: 15,200k (ish)
(insert perturbed monkey puppet looking left and right reaction image here)
🆕 A bit of insight has been added via MINDSCAPES! So we get a VIBE of what exactly is going on with Jacqueline 🤔
🆕 Lore drop! A bit of a look into how paternal mental connections work with magibean parents!
🆕 The OFFICIAL Mario Party Team Name for Jack and Jacqueline has FINALLY officially dropped: Cold Front! Now I can refer to them as such without perplexing people!! :D
RIGHTO. TIME TO UNLEASH THIS! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY! And for those of us who have seen today's episode and are experiencing a bit of psychic damage (I've only seen reports of what happens and am going in armoured, oh baby), I cast CURE WOUNDS (Crystal Springs Update) AND HOPE IT GIVES YOU BACK SOME HP! 💙💜
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rowshi04 · 3 months
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Current Plans and Some Ideas (fic stuff):
Now that it's a New Year and I'm out of my writers block🙂, I've been working on some stuff that I had in mind/planned and I've come up with some new stuff (on which I'd really appreciate your opinions/thoughts on🫶🏻)
✏️Plans/Current stuff I'm working on:
The Royals Of Love (AU reguri fic)
Red x Green Volume2 (my reguri fic pt2)
Heart To Be Mended (continuing the fic with more chapters)
Pt2 for A Rose Through Time (og story/fic with cross universes)
💭New Ideas:
Valentines Reguri fic (short, sweet oneshot)
FNAF with the plot of Super Paper Mario (random idea I had, which would be cool, greg being the main role and others would have other roles. would have to change it abit and adapt some stuff, but there is a potential)
A fic where two characters are singing along to a song (similar to my fic Rockabye. it be a oneshot, but have some little plot/story)
🖐🏻Other stuff/notes:
Try and make a comic (trying to find my art style for it, and how I'd want to do it. and if I like it, maybe make more)
Branch into different fandoms (pkmn and reguri will be my base, but I'd like to write for other fandoms I like)
~ Also do it at my own pace and not by scheduled times like I did with RxGvolume1🙃
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blu3-j · 8 months
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Tweezlers Twislers Teasers!!!
Hidy, howdy, hey, fellow strangers!!
As for a celebration of my recent resurrection on this websters website, I have a few teasers of some upcoming works for you all!!
What you will find are small teasers for an upcoming artwork adding to my collection of pieces of a fan-made house, and my next fanfiction. Both are for---of course---Welcome Home!
This right here is another viewpoint of the living room of the fan-made home I've created! I'm very excited to finish this piece, as it will be the last one of the living room! Hopefully if all are viewed together it will lead to a clear view of what the living room looks like in full.
I've been having so much fun on these with adding details and such vibrant colors! It's admittedly a small bit difficult to recreate some of the details in other views, but it pulls it all together in such a way, I can't refuse to add them!
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And next is my next upcoming fanfiction! This is only a small bit of what the work will turn out to be, but for you fanfiction...well, fans out there, I will let you in on this small teaser!
Green with Envy (Howdy x GN! Reader)
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It was like a fairytale. And like most, it all started with a wave and a smile.
It was a calm and slow evening---your first one in the neighborhood, in fact---when you were wandering around getting familiar with your new home. Unpacking had been a pain that day, and had taken twice as long as you originally thought it would. You had already met most of your neighbors, but much to their disappointment---and yours---none of them could stay long to chat and help unpack.
The paper in your grip crinkled and waved in the gentle breeze. A small homemade brochure, scrawled in crayon and covered in glitter. The neighborhood's mailman was the first to visit. He greeted you with a tip of the hat, a friendly smile, a letter hand-written from each neighbor greeting you, and a handmade brochure for a play one of your neighbors was hosting tonight. Your gaze travelled down back to it as your eyebrow twitched. While you had only met a few of them, you already found many of your neighbors were quite….unique, in a way. Other than them being puppets, of course. Each with a different major interest and equally as thrilled to have you in the neighborhood. From art, to comedy, being a mailman, and even playing games made up on the spot.
Living here will be quite interesting.
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Aaaaaand there you have it! There are your teasers for now! Keep in mind these are very much a work-in-progress, so they may change with time and work!
Alrighty tighty, then! That's all for now, fellow strangers! I dearly hope you all have a fantabulous day, and remember that the world is your oyster! Keep on oystering it up!
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leatherbookmark · 9 months
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it's been 3 years since i got into cql/mdzs and it still baffles me that people really, like sincerely, look at nmj and jgy and think jgy is 100% the aggressor, the one in power, the one in control, and nmj is a victim who's never done anything wrong ever in his life AND would be a chill teddybear* Had It Not Been For The Evil Bastard. truly fascinating
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writingwhimsey · 11 months
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Me: need to work on part 3 of my Shingen wedding event
My brain: No. You must work on this shiny new idea.
Me: But Shingen...
My brain: New idea
Me: *writes a 1600 word first chapter for shiny new idea* stupid brain
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glorious-idiocy · 1 year
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Nothing is worse than reading the most soul-crushing, world-altering, sleep-schedule destroying 50k+ word unfinished AU, and then being left to scramble after things to fill the new gaping hole it left in your heart. But nothing from canon fits right, and the only thing that would fix it is for the fic to be be finished, but it was last updated 6 years ago and there’s no hope left.
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serpentineego · 4 months
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Venenatum
H'yello
It has been a hot minute since I've posted anything here or on AO3. Fics are not abandoned! I am currently enrolled in part-time studies while I work, so free time to write Venenatum has been few and far between.
Good news, though!
The (involuntary) break has allowed me to do some reflection and re-planning of the story.
Here is the (new) sneak peak of Chapter 17 "Recovery"
Sixth Year Flashback
                The door slammed loudly behind him as Draco stormed into the run-down and forgotten girl’s lavatory. He made his way to the nearest sink and splashed some cool water on his face, trying to rid himself of the sweat that had drenched him during his exhausting day of trying to get the Vanishing Cabinet to work. Draco knew that once the deed was complete, he would have mere moments to get his little bird and whisk them away to safety. He had given up on any fancy plans to kill Dumbledore and instead had decided to simply kill the old man directly. The only issues remaining were the stupid cabinet and planning the perfect moment to ambush the headmaster. It seemed as though everything was beginning to fall into place, so then why did Draco find himself midway through a panic attack alone in the bathroom usually occupied by Moaning Myrtle?
                The anxiety in his chest had grown steadily since the night he ran into Pansy, and she had blurted out that forsaken prophecy of hers. A shadow followed Draco in his mind everywhere he went, and nothing he did could abate the darkness that threatened to envelope him. What little sleep he managed to have had been plagued by blurry nightmares of blood, Granger, and whispers of things Draco didn’t wish to remember.
As always, find the story on AO3
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hirunoka · 10 months
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Aaand here it is. The "I'm not being productive and creative at all" blues.
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goldenslumberowo · 1 year
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My father dies on a decorative table in the entrance hall of the castle.
There are others crowded in the large room; distraught knights, grim-visaged advisors, and helpless noblemen. There are servants scurrying in and out of the hall, bringing all manner of things they can get their hands on. My mother and a physician are bent over him. I can see the barely restrained horror in their taunt brows. My mother’s hands twitch, unsure, as she tries to make sense of the gaping wound in my father’s abdomen. The physician, in a fury of emotion, whirls on all the others, commanding for silence, for one damn moment, for just one second.
But there is no time.
My father is out of time.
The assailant had not been neat. It was clearly a rush job. The sword’s blade had just missed the abdominal aorta... had not been anywhere near the kidneys. Either of those and my father would have bled out in seconds. Had the assailant stabbed another inch or so upward, they would have hit the lungs, and he would have choked on his own blood in a matter of minutes. Any of these cases, and he would have probably died in my mother’s arms out on the front steps. It would have been quick, final, poetic – a true epic tale. This is all a great deal messier.
Later, there will be time for the council to reflect on the assailant's identity, to quiz the witnesses and the knights on what they had seen, obtain sketches of the assailant's face and inquire after the manner of weapon they had used. Now there is no time at all. Now there is only the entrance hall, and the table where once a vase of flowers sat – now shattered on the floor, crunching beneath our feet – with Primrose sobbing on my left and my mother’s tight, unreadable face bearing down on my right.
The flesh of my father’s belly that isn’t torn open darkens into a bruise-purple-black under the physician’s hands. There is blood spattered up to his elbows. His hands are shaking. He does not know what to do. He is our best healer. It is just him and the dying lord and his hands keeping pressure on a wound that is too great for pressure to be kept.
With the clamor in the hall, it is hard to hear. I cannot see anything except my father’s pale face. All else has ceased to matter. I cannot hear – I cannot hear his breathing over the hustle of the crowd.
I know that it should sound shallow and quick –
But his lips are blue and –
I cannot hear it because –
He’s not.
There is no heartbeat under the physician’s expertly useless fingertips.
My mother turns from the sight, the sobs wracking through her. The physician spits out a long stream of curses, startling the knight across from him, and he removes his hands from his lord’s abdomen. Blood pulses out, but that is no longer important. Chest compressions, rapid, ribs cracking – nothing. The lord is dead under his hands and my father’s lips are as blue as the lips of the drowned. We're all crowded over him, right there, watching, and the assailant has slipped away, somewhere in the country, and his lips are as blue as all the things death touches–
It is then that the physician steps back; hands raised, as if in supreme surrender.
I choke at the mere thought. There, here, now, he dies – in the entrance hall, laid across a table that is nothing more than cheaply shaped stone. And in the silence of a heartbeat, the castle falls silent as well.
All eyes move to me.
“Did you see anything?” asks the physician. He moves so fast from my father’s cold body to my warm one I can barely get his face into focus. He grasps my shoulders with bloody hands. “Did you see who it was, Katniss? Did you see anything? Hear anything? Did your father say anything before he collapsed?”
I blink rapidly. At my side, Prim shrinks back, not wanting to be confused for me.
My eyes move from the physician’s bearded face to the body.
“Katniss!” exclaims the captain of the guard. Ser Cray moves to me. There are speckles of blood on his cheeks. His eyes are wider than I've ever seen. “You were standing the closest to him.”
“I...”
What did I see?
What did I know?
Once, twice, three times my eyes flicker from face to face: my mother, a heap on the floor; the knights of my father’s guard, all rapt upon me; the noblemen, with their guarded eyes; the servants, pretending not to watch; my father’s corpse...
“I...”
Ser Gale suddenly shoulders the physician out of the way. He has to tear my hand away from where it grips my dress and then holds it tightly. I stare down at the blood that transfers from his hand to mine. Never would have I imagined having to scrub my own father’s blood from my fingers. Out of everything going wrong here, today, this is what strikes me. How unhygienic. How inappropriate. How out of procedure.
I cannot breathe.
“Katniss,” says Ser Gale, lowly. “Did you see who it was?”
I had seen something, but it all seems nonsensical. It is difficult to describe and will likely make me sound mad.
“I didn’t see who,” I say. Some of their faces immediately drop with disappointment, turning from me, dismissing me. Except, then I say, “Not who, but I saw the sword.”
“How could you have seen the sword, but not the person wielding it?” asks Ser Cray.
But as soon as he has said it, they all realize what I am implying.
The assailant is not just any person. They are gifted. And if they are gifted, that can only mean one thing: they are from the Capitol. But to say so is a dangerous implication. King Snow would not take it lightly if one of his citizens is accused of killing the Lord of Seamona. Further, considering Panem’s history, it is unlikely that King Snow would care for Lord Everdeen’s death. Lord Everdeen was the last one to surrender during the Great War, nearly thirty years ago. Seamona is the furthest city from the Capitol, and therefore, the hardest for him to control; and my father was a renown leader during the rebellion against the Capitol’s rule. If someone from the Capitol has murdered him, it will be difficult to prove, and tenuous to suggest.
Everyone treads lightly.
“Well, describe the sword,” says Ser Gale.
“There were strange markings on the hilt,” I say. “And a large ruby on the pommel.”
“Could you draw the markings?” asks Ser Cray.
“I could try.”
He nods, then turns from me. There are things to be done now. The moment of silence is gone. The guards are already moving my father’s body. Prim has a hand twisted into the fabric of my dress skirt and her grips is so unbearably strong for someone so small, and yet it is like an anchor, keeping me there, restraining me from following my father and keeping a hold on the emotions inside of me. I know if she were not there, the anger and grief, the hopelessness, would overwhelm me; I would be on the floor, mirroring my mother.
Ser Gale gives me a long look and squeezes my hand, before turning back to the others. He has his own duties to attend to. That is all the comfort my only friend is allowed to give me.
I turn to Prim and gather her in my arms. I try not to stain her dress with our father’s blood; as if I can protect her at all from what she has just seen. As if this moment will not forever stain her heart and mind. She is only eleven years old. It is so easy to lift her up. I know that generally this would be frowned upon. It is not very courtly to carry her through the halls like a toddler; but who is going to scold me? Not our father. Not our mother, in pieces across the entryway.
I lock us up in my chambers. No one will bother us for a while. There is too much to do. The entrance hall will need scrubbing. The vase will need replacing. My father’s abdomen will need to be sewn shut. They will need to put him in his best clothes. All the nobles will need to be told. King Snow will need to be written. He will likely anticipate the announcement of a new Lord, who will need to swear him fealty, and who will rule Seamona in his name.
Then I pull myself up short. I am just tucking Prim into my bed, petting her brow. It dawns on me that I am my father’s heir. He never had any sons, so that means it falls to me. Except, I am only seventeen and I am unmarried. By all rights, my husband would be the new Lord. While I have always known I would need to marry, my father had always assured me it could wait, that it could be put off, that I could likely choose the man; and all that is dust now.
Suddenly, there is not just a funeral in my near future, but also a wedding. My wedding.
It feels selfish and petty to focus on this point, when just this morning I watched my father die. How could I compare this to that? How could I equate the potential suffering of a rushed and arranged marriage to his agonizing last moments of life? He always regaled me as his strong girl, his tough girl, but at this moment I do not feel tough. I do not want to be tough. I want to cry.
I look down at Prim’s face. She is exhausted from the excitement of the morning. I can see the weariness in the line between her brow. I run a finger over it, smoothing it. Her eyes open.
“Why would someone do this?” she asks me.
Of course, she knows about the Great War. While she may not understand how large of a role our father played in the rebellion, she knows that there are tensions between our city and the Capitol. Except, those are nearly thirty year old grudges, and within Seamona, our father was a well-loved and benevolent lord. It is hard to fathom that such a kind, resilient man would be hated so much that someone would call for his death.
Could there have been some other reason? Some other lord or city that my father has angered? I could not pretend that I spent much time learning of politics or sitting in on council meetings. My father never insisted on grooming me for rule. He has allowed me to have a childhood. Some days, I have participated, but not nearly enough. I thought there would be time. We all did. And, yet, in this moment, I feel angry at him for it. I am now without him, and I possess none of the knowledge I will need.
For the rest of the day and night, Prim and I stay in my chambers. Servants bring us food. Most of them give us sideways glances. One of them, a bony older woman, Greasy Sae, rests her hand over mine as I take the tray from her. I look down into her wrinkled face, finding grief in her eyes. She is a servant I have known all my life; who has changed my bedding, and brought me my food, and brushed my hair. This one small gesture of comfort from her of all people is what makes the hold inside of me snap. The tears come down my face without permission.
“Everyone will grieve him,” she tells me. “This whole city. There has never been a man like him.”
At that instant, I cannot believe I ever imagined being angry at him. He did not deserve this. He never intended this. The sobs come and Greasy Sae, without a word, guides me back over to the bed. She tucks me in beside Prim. Prim wraps herself around me. I tell myself I will allow myself this one night for weeping and grief. Tomorrow, I will be his strong girl. I will show up to the morning council meeting and I will be his daughter, and his heir, and I will do what I must; but most of all, I promise to myself I will find out who did this. I will find the person who has taken my father from not just me, but my little sister, and my mother, and our city – and then I will kill them.
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illiana-mystery · 2 years
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I had a dream last night, where this fucking guy:
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(Robert Royal from Return to Zero)
and this fucking guy:
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(Ed Blackridge from A Family Man.)
Were two sugar daddies fighting over one sugar baby.
And I woke up and I was like, damn, that would be a nice story premise. But I don't know, what do you guys think?
Would that be a story you would like to see in the near future?
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bluewaterhigh2005 · 2 months
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i ordered myself a belated birthday present today in the form of a new kindle and in preparation for its arrival next week i decided to brutally cull my ebook collection which was great until i spent hours just replacing everything i got rid of with several hundred new downloads. hm.
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