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gaybroons · 1 month

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Intrigued by #1 👀👀👀

omg I started writing this thing for @mxaether in late January and it’s been spiraling out of control ever since. I do not know where this monster of a fic is going 🤠 (but it IS going. Trust 🤝)

Here’s the plot:

Alpha Ovi. Alpha Sid. Omega flower.

In a world where pack dynamics dictate that alphas must dominate, that they exist to serve and provide for their pack, sid finds out that he just wants to be used. In literally every way possible.

Flower and ovi conspire to take advantage (in a horny way) <3

Listen idk how to explain it. There’s not a lot of plot going on here 😭

Anyway, snippet!!!

// tw: non-con fantasies //

Sid is happy being the alpha of his team, he is. he loves lavishing his omegas with attention and praise but—

Years ago, when Ovi smiled at him from across the face off dot, shark-like, and reeking of post-rut pheromones, he couldn’t think right.

Sid lost the face off.

And proceeded to lose his footing every time ovi pushed him against the boards.

Later, when he’s got a hand on his dick and another on his knot, he tells himself it’s the omegas layered below ovi’s scent. It must be. Otherwise he—he is—

——

Sidney sits, so, so still as tanger buries his face into Sid’s armpit. He groans, a satisfied sound as he holds sid in place and gets his hit of alpha pheromones for the day.

He’s a fussy omega, and while other alphas would be annoyed at his antics, sid had always loved to serve. It’s his duty, after all. And he knows about the importance of not fucking with tradition.

As it happens, the pens are full of fussy omegas, and geno’s too impatient to wait for tanger to finish his scenting. He leans down, doesn’t even need to ask sid to buckle his bucket for him, he knows by now.

It’s a little difficult to do it with one arm, but sid is nothing if not determined. He fixes it, tightens it, and the satisfaction blooms in his chest as he physically feels geno settle.

It’s the closest thing they’ll get to a collar, and sid wonders if he can use that to convince the team to start wearing neck guards.

Tanger bites at the side of his pec to protest Sid’s divided attention.

——

He’s more at peace with it the next time he sees Ovi.

Somehow, he’d always been able to read sid like a book. It’s almost as if he knows him more than he knows himself. He expects to be chirped about it but he’s prepared; he doesn’t doubt that Ovi's going to be vicious and cruel, he just wonders how far he’ll take it.

But the only thing he gets is a wink and a knowing smile. And that somehow riles him up even more.

It feels both inevitable and shocking when Ovi scents him like he’s an omega, when he swipes his sweaty glove all over his face. It’s a provocation, an invitation to fight to anyone with working eyes, and the rest of the match devolves into chaos.

But to sid— to sid it felt like a claim.

He holds his wrist up to his nose— he managed to swipe it across ovi’s scent gland, and for once he’s thankful that ovi refuses to wear blockers— as he slides down his dildo. It’s thick and heavy; Sid’s favorite. He loves how it fills him up, how the head brushes against his prostate everytime he takes it. He inhales and groans at the scent, unmistakably alpha, unmistakably ovi. The spice of it burns his nose, makes his eyes sting. It’s weak and faded, despite how careful he was washing off, and yet it’s good. It’s so fucking good. His dick leaks while he rides his dildo, imagining it to be ovi’s cock. He doesn’t think ovi will let him have his way, he’d probably push him off and scruff him enough to go limp. He almost comes to the thought of ovi’s mouth on his nape, teething at the soft vulnerable skin, to the thought of being pushed down and forced to take it. Forced to take another alpha’s knot.

Sid moans at the thought of being pinned down, manhandled. He’s going to resist, he has to, but just enough to get ovi to hold him tighter.

He licks at his wrist and clenches down as he comes, a whisper of ovi’s taste on his tongue. Ovi would like that, he thinks deliriously, he would. Any alpha would. He’d probably like it enough to pop a knot right in his hole.

And he… he’s probably not going to resist that.

#the next part was the flower cockwarming smut scene which is probably the horniest thing I’ve ever written #wip ask game #hrpf #sidflowerovi

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sunshinestrand · 2 months

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Happy Wednesday, everyone! The good news is, this fic is ever so slowly coming to a close and should be around here soon enough! But until then, I provide you with another snippet.

tagged by @welcometololaland and @iboatedhere — thank you so much, lovelies 💛

Alex clicks into the most recent post on Henry’s feed, a photo taken of a plane window with the simple caption new album incoming, without much thought, Alex likes it. Along with another of a beagle that Alex remembers reading once is named David and is an emotional support animal for Henry.

Finally, Alex closes from the app and tosses his phone on the bed beside him. He sits for too long trying to convince himself that this is nothing and when that doesn’t work, he runs his hands down his face, turns on his side and presses a pillow to the side of his head. It does absolutely nothing to qualm the thoughts echoing in his head. For a moment, his body tricks him into thinking his eyes are growing heavy, and he groans when they reopen on their own accord.

Alex rolls himself out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cool flooring. He needs to run or make a list, or both. He begins with the latter of the two while throwing on clothes and pulling on his running shoes.

1. Feeling anything for Henry would be breaking his number one rule of never getting involved with a visiting musician.

2. He’s only known Henry in professional sense for mere hours. There is absolutely no way anyone can develop feelings in that amount of time.

3. Granted, Henry is very beautiful and talented and everything that draws Alex in.

4. Perhaps Alex has always thought Henry was beautiful and talented (but not since he was twelve, Nora).

Alex rolls his eyes as he descends the steps from the apartment and down into the main studio area. For a moment, he doesn’t quite realise it, but upon a second glance, he discovers that Henry’s door is wide open. Another moment passes before he hears it, the melodic tune of a piano. Alex follows it until he’s at the doorway of the recording booth where sure enough, he finds Henry, his fingers almost floating against the keys of the piano. Alex goes unnoticed due to the angle in which Henry sits, and for a moment, he’s able to take him in, the way his eyes are fluttered closed, his lips parted ever so slightly and—

5. Alex desperately wants to know how those lips feel against his.

6. Henry’s long, skilled fingers.

Alex lingers for a beat longer before he sucks in a deep breath, forces himself away, and moves toward the entrance of the studio building. He opens and closes the door as quietly as possible, thankful for the cool breeze against his too warm skin. He begs his body to immediately stop reacting to his thoughts.

7. He is officially screwed.

As per usual, I'm late to the game, so an open tag to everyone and then my forever tag @avacoleman <3

#rwrb #firstprince #userkimmy #userthai #tusersonia #wip wednesday #paige writes

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im-probably-crying-rn-ngl · 4 months

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my wips

i wanted to organise and share my wips and i am actually sorry to whomever has ever tagged me in a tag game, i actually just don't know how to do them✨ if anyone is curious about any of these please do drop me an ask because i do love the sound of my own voice/sight of my own words and will provide detail 😌

okay so we have britcedes (rip to them ig) to start off, rn trying to figure out how the actual fuck i will write lewis' move to ferrari into them:

End Game: okay so a/b/o au where lewis is coparenting his son with his ex (teammate and boyfriend, buy 1 get 1 free) nico rosberg. lewis might have a lot on his plate but he finds himself attracted to his new teammate (he has a bit of a type) and against his better judgement they start up a "thing". what lewis doesn't realise george is absolutely head over heels in love with him and has been for YEARS. but george tries to play it cool, he fails, shit happens, gax happens (yes okay i don't want to fumble with this, max is incredibly complex in this but i still love him in it) but yes they get their end game of course.

Chasing Silver: set in canon universe, starting from the 2021 season. honestly like yeah that's it. i think this fic is just an excuse to ramble about their racing and ever shifting dynamics.

My Girl: OH THIS FIC. its absolutely one of my favourites if not the favourite. so lesbian britcedes, lady louise hamilton is the first black and female driver to make it to f1 and she is the champion of the sport. its 2022, she has won 7 wdcs and is looking for one more but it is just not clicking, neither is her personal life really. love left her a long time ago, walked away on 6 inch red stilettos. but enter george russell (yes her name is george and no it is NOT short for georgia and yes she will correct you on that every single time) louise's new teammate alex albon's race engineer. all george ever wanted was everything and being louise's girl might just give it to her or maybe it will be what takes it it all?

then there is gax my beloveds, i adore writing them, gax nation will always have my loyalty, i really want them to give me more this season:

Lovely: this is a/b/o, childhood sweethearts, non-driver george, son of toto wolff au i have shared snippets of before. writing this fic feels never ending and i am slowly losing my mind haha but its still! my! baby! and! i! won't! abandon! it!

Mad Max's Princess: this is pure self indulgent fluff. girl george who is once again is casted as alex albon's race engineer in this fic. her (mostly) loving boyfriend of 10 years is none other than rival team red bull racing's star and the reigning world champion. the guy they have to beat to get her driver and team to the top. oh when the love of your life is your biggest fan and your biggest hater. this is gax, of course hijinks ensue.

Fire & Blood: medieval fantasy/game of thrones (a song of ice and fire for the ones who know) au with a/b/o dynamics. mercedes are the rulers of the land and their dragons' fire melted the gold in their crowns and the moulded their iron throne. but a dragon can die and a dragon can be killed. a dragon can be shot from the sky and brought down to earth or a dragon can be trapped in a dungeon till it can fly no more. a dragon's neck can be pierced by a lion's teeth.

galex because okay who am i to argue against true love and george's russell's wishes:

Hell is a Teenager: this is a pretty dark fic where i actually do some social commentary on the a/b/o universe. so george and alex are neighbours and the best of friends who are just on the edge of more. at 14 george presents as an omega and is shipped off to an all-omega private boarding school. alex doesn't hear from him till their final year of high school and all of a sudden george is back in town. he is not the same boy that cried in alex's arms the night before he left begging for him to love him. george has changed even if no one else can tell, what happened in there? why is he back? why does alex's heart still give a stutter when he looks into those blue eyes? even if those eyes no longer sparkle. *sigh* yeah this is a toughie

lastly there is my landoscar wip, they write themselves into ffs not us:

The Only Exception: another a/b/o au (one hit wonder i know), basically its the good boy/play boy trope. lando can't get his shit together and oscar is too oblivious for his own good. it would be angst if they weren't so incredibly adorable and down bad for each other.

#sharu rambles

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mareenavee · 10 months

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Snippets Someday

Howdy again :> I was tagged by @dirty-bosmer to share more snippets. I'm also mid ground-up edit and even during the course of this, I can see the level ups so I'm happy to share. Picking a favorite chapter is HARD though, I must say. While I'm in it, it's hard to see what makes a chapter a favorite, but during the editing process, sometimes certain turns of phrase really make me proud of my past self and my last three braincells :> I think this should be normalized. Our writing is good and worthy and we are all doing our best.

Tagging the most esteemed: @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @polypolymorph, @thequeenofthewinter, @snippetsrus, @rhiannon1199, @oblivions-dawn, @airiat, @the-storytellers-seer, @archangelsunited, @inquisition-dragonborn, @saltymaplesyrup, @friend-of-giants, @gilgamish, @tallmatcha, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @kookaburra1701, @rainpebble3 and HONESTLY anyone else who wants to play this game! Tag me back so I can read more snippets!!

Rules:

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from: * Your first chapter * Your favorite chapter * Your most challenging chapter Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

Under the cut for snips from The World on Our Shoulders!

First Chapter: Chapter 1 - Prologue (Ah. The drama. Laid out like a picnic. Immediately. Without holding anything back.)

It had been months now, time inching ever closer to a year away. The last letter she wrote home to him was before the most recent complication to their situation. It had been filled with lies, of course, as most of her correspondence had been for some time now. He wrote all the time, even when he had no word from her. Though he was always reaching, even in the distance, as far away as she could keep him, it had become so easy to ignore his hands. She stooped with just a small bit of discomfort and picked up the soft shirt she had been drying in the sun. She had already wrapped her chest, and packed away her lighter armor for travel which had been scrubbed clean. Next to her bag, a crumpled letter, smoothed over many times, lay taunting her to read it again. The ink was smeared in places, perhaps written hastily and folded before it had a chance to dry. He hadn’t bothered to use the good parchment this time, either. She looked over the correspondence once again, searching and not finding anything of interest or note. There was nothing between these lines. That was part of the problem. He commented once again on the last letter she sent, and then begged her to come home. She had burned a thousand of these. Maybe not that many, but enough. And she never answered the persistent question: when? Because the answer, after a time, had become never. And Nyenna wasn’t sure how to phrase that nicely. There likely wasn’t a way.

Favorite Older Chapter: Chapter 8 - Haunted by the Ghost of You (I have a couple more new favorites but this did mention older chapters. I enjoy the ache of these doomed ships so here we are.)

Athis was exhausted. The weight of his thoughts, his worries, his sadness had him crumbling. Once, he could have turned to her and she’d take it all away. One kiss, one glance, and he would be okay again. She was his home, his shelter, his safety. He thought he’d given her that, too, but like with everything else, her path had taken this from her as well. Nowhere felt like home, once again, for either of them. That emptiness was tearing into his soul at this point. It had been just like before he even made it to Skyrim. Nothingness. Hopelessness. He couldn’t help inviting it in. There was nobody else in here, anyway. He had tried to push the bad memories away from him all this time, but in the void, they crept back in. Reminded him of all his terror, ceaseless in their torment. He sighed and leaned his forehead against his arms as he curled in on himself. “I can’t do this by myself, love. I really need you here,” he whispered to the ghost of the girl he remembered, singing in the kitchen with autumn eyes full of love and hope. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She was gone, and Athis knew no matter when Nyenna next came home, that girl in his memories would never, ever return.

Challenging Older Chapter: Chapter 12 - What Am I Capable Of? (Arguments, arguments, arguments. Hard to get into the headspace of.)

“I choose what I do with my life,” he insisted, trying hard and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You don’t get to tell me who and what I am capable of saving, even if you are this legendary hero.” And he knew they were fighting words. He knew because lately, especially, things being wrested out of her control caused so much pain and confusion. It was a sore point, an argument waiting to happen no matter who was on the other end. She did level her gaze on him again, and this time he could see a malice behind it, even if it did not belong entirely to her. “So you would have me relive this fear every battle? You would distract me from what I’m supposed to do just because you think I need to be saved?” she said, words icy. And he didn’t mean that, no. He knew she was deflecting. Trying to cover up her uncertainty, her hesitancy. The fact that she didn’t believe in herself, not even a whit, even when he knew she should. “Is that how you see me, Nyenna? A distraction?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed. It hurt to dig like this, but they were her words. Could she not hear how absurd this all sounded? She exhaled through her nose. Crossed her arms over her chest. Looked away. “There were minutes in our last fight where I couldn’t be sure if you were alive or dead,” she said after a moment, shoulders sagging under the weight of the revelation. “It was like I was back at the border, watching Eris be cut down, taken from me forever, and all I could do was keep running. I had to leave him behind – couldn’t help even if I knew the magic then. And the ghost of that decision has stayed with me. It is unceasing, relentless fear, Athis. I can’t just make it go away. It’s always on my mind. What could happen to you is always on my mind.” She didn’t exactly answer the question, nor did she apologize for her turn of phrase. But this was the heart of it. Fear. Something he could understand. He peeled one of her hands away from herself and held it in his.

#MareenaWrites #Tag Game #The World On Our Shoulders #Athis #LDB/Athis #Nyenna #tes #tesblr #skyrim #elder scrolls #skyrim fic #writblr #writeblr #fanficblr

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peonierose · 1 year

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For @openheartappreciationweek I decided to share two snippets from two of my Open Heart AU‘s I’ve been working on 🧡💚

Amber

Book: Open Heart

Type: AU fic

Rating: Mature

Series: Chapter 1/?

Summary: Bryce has had superpowers ever since high school. Surgeon by day, superhero by night. Though he’s not the only one who’s got skills. His nemesis Lady Ambrose is just as skilled as Bryce is.

A/N: Thank you to @mvalentine for inspiring this story with your ask. I would’ve never written this AU or even come up with this superhero vs. villain story if it wasn’t for you so thank you 💓

Boston

12 years ago…

Bryce

I was still in high school when I discovered I was somehow different from the rest of my friends. I could do things with light that they couldn’t. I thought I was just seeing things. Boy was I wrong.

You probably ask yourself what makes me so special from the rest?

Slowly over time I developed photokinesis. It’s the power to manipulate light. Cool huh? Well when it comes to learning and training? Not so much. I’ve had to learn all of those things on my own.

It was pretty fucking scary for me, because there was no one I could ask for advice. No one handed me a manual or helped me correct and improve on my mistakes.

Slowly I discovered some of my powers. Over time I got better with my skills and abilities.

I know I know. It doesn't sound all that impressive at first, but when you think about it, it’s actually one of the coolest powers there is.

I can fract, bend, or move light.

Create holographic images, turn invisible, and even move at light-speed simply by adjusting the properties of the light that surrounds me.

Trust me I’ve tried out many things. Simply to see what’s possible with light manipulation.

Soon after I finished high-school my parents got arrested for financial fraud. I never saw it coming. None of our friends and family did.

Life got pretty lonely after that. When everyone stares at you. Silently judging you.

You were basically unfollowed overnight everywhere. From picta, from any social channels. No more party invitations, no social gatherings.

Soon you were shunned by everyone.

That’s when I vowed to do better and to provide my sister Keiki with a different life.

One where she isn’t judged by what our parents did. I graduated from Stanford with honors and became her guardian. After that we moved to Boston.

I was the only relative she could stay with. Not that I’m complaining. I love my little sister more than anything in this world, but I was scared to death.

Juggling university, two jobs, taking care of my sister. It’s an awful lot for a 21-year-old guy.

I didn’t want Keiki or anyone else to know what kind of powers I have. Imagine ending up in a lab somewhere, because they want to figure out how your powers work and profit off of you.

After everything went down with my parents I got into an emotional turmoil. Everything was just too much. So I started running. Exercising all the time. Just to put all this restless energy somewhere. At the same time I was getting my body into shape.

I feel a lot calmer afterwards. Running helps me clear my head. It also helped me to improve on my skills.

The girl turns her head and I catch golden blonde hair in the dimly lit street lights. She looks like an angel who fell from heaven.

Yeah I know sounds super cliché, but it’s true. She has this soft, feminine aura that clings to her. An inner light that’s so radiant you always want to be surrounded by it. To bask in that light every single day.

The Royal & I

Book: Open Heart

Type of story: AU fic

Rating: General

Series: 1/?

Summary: Luna is a Princess about to get married off to a Prince from another kingdom, to strengthen the bonds between the kingdoms. Then she meets Bryce and falls in love with him, but he’s not from a royal bloodline. What will Luna do? Follow her heart or her duty?

A/N: A huge thank you to @lilyoffandoms Who inspired me greatly for my AU The Royal & I @starrystarrytrouble Who not only inspired me for my AU The Royal & I but also allowed my to use her name in my story 💚🧡 Ruby is a very special friend to Luna. So hopefully I did her justice ❤️

Waking up in a comfy bed and the softest sheets you can think of. This is truly marvelous. I sigh and sink back into my bed.

I just closed my eyes to linger for a couple more seconds when I hear a stern knock at my door.

Well looks like the moment is officially over. I get out of my bed, pushing the sheets aside. Getting into my slippers and putting my pink satin robe on.

I open the door and see my PR manager Ruby standing outside of my room. Ready to knock again. In case I haven’t heard it the first time.

“Good morning your highness,“ she says holding a clipboard close to her chest and dressed in a suit in a light sage green. Her auburn hair glinting in the light of the hallway.

Smiling at me.

“How many times have I told you to call me Luna. Adding the highness feels unnecessary,“ I say and open the door wider to let her in.

She walks in and closes the door behind her.

“So what’s on the agenda today?“ I ask opening my closet.

I’m dressing myself. I don’t like too many people in my space.

Ruby starts reading off of her clipboard.

“Breakfast with your mother and sister. Dinner with your father, where you will discuss the arrangement between Rosario and Aldana,“ she says.

I groan at that.

I’m supposed to marry this guy. Prince Phillip from the kingdom of Aldana to strengthen our political bonds. To unify two kingdoms. Showing people we can coexist together.

I’d rather eat turkey - which I don’t like - than spending time with the prince, much less marry him.

“I wish I could be normal for one day. That’s all I ask,“ I mutter which Ruby doesn’t comment on. Bless her. I’m glad she’s here.

I pick out a magenta dress, that ends at the knees, with thin spaghetti straps. Get my pink heels on.

Put on some light make-up, leaving my long blonde hair open and wild just the way I like it. Then I turn around to face Ruby.

Ruby looks at me with compassion.

“I can’t imagine how you must feel. Maybe Prince Phillip isn’t so bad. I’ve heard only good things about him,“ Ruby tries to reassure me.

I nod and put on a fake smile. Though Ruby sees right through me. I smile softly at her and give her a hug. Rules be damned.

“So what else is on that list of yours?“ I ask as we get out into the hallway, down into the garden to have breakfast with my mother and sister.

“As requested we’re visiting the animal shelter today. I’ll take some picture of the animals to post on our social media channels,“ Ruby grins her hazel eyes shining with glee.

I smile at her. I love that we’re donating to the local animal shelter. All those animals deserve a home. If I’m a princess then the least I can do is use my title to make the world a better place.

We walk into the garden.

Freshly mowed. Its bushes and trees are being manicured to perfection. Like everything else in the palace.

I try not to let that upset me. Breathing in the fresh air. The flowery scent of peonies and magnolia trees tickles my nose. Spring looks beautiful. When new leaves and flower buds are blossoming, it feels like a fresh start. Like a beautiful new beginning.

Seems as if my mother and my sister Taliyah Aurea of Rosario are already seated. Or Tally as I like to call my sister. She’s my younger sister and so mischievious all the time. I love her.

Ruby excuses herself and lets us have breakfast. I wish she could join us, but it wouldn’t be proper for her to sit with us. I hate it. She’s my friend. She should sit at this table with all of us. My mother would say the etiquette doesn��t allow it. I think that etiquette is bullshit. Unfortunately I have to follow the rules just like everyone else.

“Good morning mother and Tally,“ I say and can’t resist adding her childhood nickname.

I sit down and smile at my sister and my mother who are engaged in a heated debate about spring colors, not really acknowledging my presence. I roll my eyes at that and shake my head.

Tagging my perma tags:

@annieruok94

@potionsprefect

@secretaryunpaid

@cariantha

@karahalloway

@aallotarenunelma

@inlocusmads

@mysticalgalaxysstuff

@ofmischiefandmedicine

@doriopenheart

@txemrn

@annfg8

@openheartforeverinmyheart

@quixoticdreamer16

@issabees

@the-mrsreigns

@jerzwriter

@jamespotterthefirst

@genevievemd

@made-of-roses

@amortentiaopenheart

@surrenderronnie1

OH only:

@mvalentine

@a-crepusculo

@lilyoffandoms

@zahrachoices

@liaromancewriter

@trappedinfanfiction

@takemyopenheart

@the-pale-goddess

#Open Heart AU‘s #open heart appreciation week #Sneak Peeks #Bryce Lahela #Luna Auclair

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lucienarcheron · 2 months

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1, 3, 5, 7, 27, 29, 31, 33 😁(if these have all been asked then please choose three questions you would like to be asked) (if none of these have been answered, choose three, two or one — have a good day!)

1.Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

I try to write it as soon as I get the ideas. My notes app is filled with stuff because I don't want to lose it. If I can, I'll try to write as much of the scene/chapter as possible because I'm fueled by it. If not, I at least try to write the general idea/vibes. Then I proceed to daydream a lot lol.

3. Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

I mostly share with @abruisedmuse lol. She gets my ideas first hand but other than that, I usually keep it to myself.

5. How many wips do you have? What fandoms/pairings are they for?

My obsession has been SJM so all my wips are for her characters. I have a lot of Elucien, Satharion, and Eiris. I have a Feysand wip as well as a Gwynriel wip. In total, about 18 HAHA.

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

Sighing quietly, he glanced down at his station and began pulling different flowers at random, thinking about Nesta’s words.

It wasn’t that Azriel didn’t want to ask Gwyn out but…this wouldn’t be his first time attempting to be more than friends with someone close to him. He had almost lost Mor’s friendship in the process and even though they had both moved on, sometimes it was still awkward. He couldn’t let it happen again.

Gwyn…Gwyn was different. She was pure sunshine in a way he’d never seen in anyone before. She was funny, smart, scrappy, and though he knew she had a past that haunted her sometimes, Azriel had watched her slowly learn to not let it hold her back as she found herself again.

And gods, he’d do anything to keep that gorgeous smile on her face.

But what if it ruined the easiness of their friendship? What if he came on too strong? What if he ended up making her feel —

“That bouquet is about as sad as watching you try to do pilates, Az.”

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

I think I write banter and emotions pretty well. I love writing dialogue and do feel like each couple I write has their own flavor in their banter.

31. Do you use a beta reader/editor?

Yup. My girl @abruisedmuse always gets VIP first access to my writing and provides me with her feedback. I appreciate her eyeballs and big brain :)

33. Is there a specific word count that you hold yourself to/enjoy writing the most?

I've only ever paid attention to this when writing SMTB. With each chapter, I aim for at least 20-22 pages. With the individual one-shots, I don't really pay attention so I end it whenever it feels right. It's been usually around 4-5K words depending on the piece.

thank you for sending in an ask, darling!! ♥️♥️ hope you've been having a wonderful weekend!!

#asks #thelovelymadone #ask games #gwynriel #can you guess what that piece is part of lol #I was hoping to get it done for wednesday but idk

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justafoxhound · 10 months

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Snippet Someday

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer , thanks what a fun game! Makes me want to edit the early bits a lot lol, but was fun to dip back into the later parts!

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from:

Your first chapter

Your favourite chapter

Your most challenging chapter

Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

From Atomic Smitten (a Fallout 3 fanfic)

First chapter- 1. A Very Bad Wakeup Call

Radiation leak. Cave in. Reactor meltdown. Old age. Boredom. These were the ways Talia expected she would die in Vault 101, the underground nuclear shelter she called home. She’d never have guessed it would be Johnny from Vault Security in the cafeteria with the police baton.

Favourite chapter- 33. Obsidian: On Reflection, He Should Have Charged More

At the bottom of the stairwell he found her already clambering over a dead mutant, reloading her shotgun. She looked up at him, a hollow smile juxtaposing the deep set pits of obsidian in her pupils. Vaulties always were either the weakest or wildest migrants to the wasteland. “This thing is fucking awesome. You got one?” Clarence pulled back the hammer on his revolver. “Forty-four is all the stopping power I’ve ever needed, Miss. Now, I insist we hurry. We’ll cook down here regardless of the chef if we dither.”

Challenging chapter- 23. Private Investigations

The rain began to come down as Burke reached Wilhelm’s Wharf on the northern edge of the city. The universe sometimes had a grand sense of timing. Truthfully he disliked the city. Or at least the ruins of it. Rivet City itself was enjoyable enough. Crowded with the hungry and desperate, run by the honourable and corrupt alike, each as predictable as the other, with a healthy smattering of unscrupulous individuals throughout. It was rife with opportunity for making a quick buck, though he’d always been interested in a longer affair; the security was too tight to really work the system from the outside, so one would need to wield some amount of control. The city council was the key to that.

Anyone with works they want to share feel free to jump on this!

#atomic smitten #fo3 #fallout 3 #tag game #man i had such fun writing clarence the mysterious stranger #and more fun reading that whole chapter again bc i forgot most of it

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jazzywazzy89 · 2 years

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aw bless, i understand. fandom can be intimidating, especially ones that are active and considering you didn’t watch tvd when kai first appeared, i can see why it would be daunting to write a fic. with that being said i love all human AUs for bonkai and a You inspired fic would be *chefs kiss*. and honestly i’m always here for any bonnie ship but the reason i ask about that particular one is because i truly felt like the writing was heading in that direction but a certain showrunner got wind and changed gears. the potential for any bonnie fic is there but idk something about bonkai always felt like it was supposed to work and we’d get a fleshed out, dark bonnie plus the chemistry and dynamic between the two would have worked very well. but as usual the writers couldn’t let my girl have shit. plus, they would have really fit the enemies to lovers trope tbh

Right! Most of the time the fandom is really gracious so it might not even be necessary to worry. But I still have some hang ups and even though the Bamon fic I posted went over well I will never forget the pressure I felt to make Bamon endgame for my fic The Gods of Viriginia because of how vocal people were. I think it might be easier if I'm writing for just that pairing as insatiable got mostly postive feedback but then I also got feedback saying it wasn't dark enough. Lol So you can't please everyone tbh.

Though I wasn't actively watching when Bonkai was onscreen I did watch the scenes as I said and do think they would've fit the enemies to lovers trope. The problem with TVD in terms of Bonnie was that any time she got any attention or any pairing gained traction with the fandom it was shot down by JP and even if they had write themselves into a corner, sacrifice plot and continuity, or ruin someone's characterization to not go with a story or pairing for Bonnie or to give it to one of the other female leads instead they did it. That's why Klaus's character was sacrificed for KC, that's why DE was drawn out for so long even though Bamon had better chemistry and the story would've naturally developed there, and that's why Kai was killed off in the manner that he was. And JP had no problem with doing the bare minimum to capitalize on the Bonnie fandom's viewership so we got things the Bamon friendship and breadcrumb scenes for pairings like Klonnie, Kennett, and Bonkai. But when it came to actually pairing Bonnie off on the show they only ever did that when they wanted to keep a character on screen and relevant but didn't have anyone else to tie them to so they stuck them with Bonnie, which was why we got B*remy and B*nenzo. But anyway JP and TPTB on TVD didn't care about organic storytelling and definitely didn't care about story at all when it came to Bonnie outside of her suffering or providing a magic fix it when everyone else was in need.

Moving on, you should definitely watch the film Beast if you get a chance. It's so good! As for the You AU, I think it fits well, the problem with Joe though is his insane inner monologue and I wouldn't be able to sit in that head for an entire fic. I think if I tackled it, it'd be sort of how I did Notes on a Scandal, with the inner monologue being in snippets that break up the actual story narrative that's told in third person. I've thought about it a lot actually and I see Bonnie as a sort of composite character as a combination of all of Joe's love interests. Because I can see a bit of her in Beck, that need to be loved and that desire to be seen and wanted. But there's also and edge that Candace has and I could see in a AU Bonnie being an aspiring musician because of Kat's talent. Also I could see Bonnie sort of cultivating this outside image that hides and inner darkness the way that Love does and I always like to play around with Dark!Bonnie, and their sort of frantic love/hate cat and mouse thing would fit Bonkai as well. I could also see Bonkai having a sort of affinity for one another and points of connection the way that Joe does with Marienne. It'd be a hard one to tackle but I do feel like it'd fit. I've brainstormed about it more than once. Not sure if I'll ever actually write it but it'd be a fun one to try.

#anons #replies #bonnie bennett #fanfiction #bamon #bonkai #klonnie #kennett #fuck jp forever tbh

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mtreebeardiles · 2 years

Text

A snippet! For SUNDAY! Hokay, let’s see…

Tagged by @muffinsandsweets (hi there!) and to prove that I am definitely thinking about my mreyder long fic I will provide PROOF of the chapter I should really finish one of these days eh

Tagging anyone who wants to participate ☺️

"So on a scale from one to royally fucked, how bad do you think our reception is gonna be?"

The question was rhetorical, one he didn't expect SAM to answer let alone consider, but the words had been weighing heavy on his chest ever since they'd gotten back onto the Tempest. So much had been riding on Khi Tasira actually being Meridian and discovering that it wasn't…

Well.

He wasn't sure what the Director was going to do, exactly, but he didn't doubt Tann would find some way to punish him. Publicly? Privately? Strip him of his tenuous rank, or find some other way to pen him in? There wasn't much the Salarian could do about SAM's connection to Scott but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to order some research into how to tear them apart, pass the mantle on to someone he could bring to heel.

I won't let that happen, Scott.

We might not have a choice here, Big Guy.

Other factors to consider, too, like the mysterious "Benefactor" mentioned in his father's memories. He wished there was some way to jump start the rest of them, unlock them deliberately to give him some actual fucking direction, but the trigger method was as random as ever. No rhyme or reason for all they were coming more frequently these days, and Scott wasn't sure if that was because he was mentally where the blocks felt he needed to be or if that domicile back on Kadara had caused it.

Speaking of… He chewed a thumbnail, turning on his heel and striding back to the other side of his quarters. SAM, how's our uh… special package doing?

It is en route to Kadara, Scott. I estimate it should be docking by the time we reach the Nexus.

No issues from the Scourge?

Some, the AI admitted, but it is not without shielding, and I was able to cloak some of the signals. It should make it to its destination relatively intact.

Scott huffed out a breath at that, feeling his shoulders relax a touch. At least something had gone right back there. Something he had no intention of sharing with anyone aside from SAM and Reyes, of course, but still.

Worse comes to worse we could always go pirate.

An idle fantasy, so far-fetched from the reality of space piracy that he had to laugh at an imagination better suited to the boy he'd been than the man he was. He'd encountered plenty of real-life pirates back on Arcturus and the grim truth had stripped the veneer of excitement right off all those holo-vids he'd watched as a kid.

Shame, he thought, pacing the other direction, Reyes already has the swagger down.

Scott, your breathing is elevated.

"I know," he whispered aloud. Shaking fingers snaked through his hair and he made an effort to measure his breaths, counting the inhales and exhales the way he'd been taught. "I'll be alright."

Will you, though? You fucked up, just like you always fuck up, only this time its gonna cause a bunch of people grief. His team, the science team, the other Pathfinders and their teams…

"Fuck."

"Scott?"

He didn't respond, his pacing picking up in speed. Any hopes of establishing an independent entity with the Pathfinders were probably toast, too, after this little stunt. He'd just been so fucking sure…

He ran a hand over his face, coming to a stop. Breathe in, breathe out. There was nothing he could do about any of it right now, and sliding deeper into a panic wasn't going to help anyone.

Easier said than done.

"Scott?"

"Yeah, SAM?"

"Suvi wishes to speak with you on the bridge," the AI intoned. "She has an idea."

#Womp #my writing #mass effect: andromeda #mreyder #WIP #some panicky Scott for your Sunday

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gwilin-stay-winnin · 10 months

Text

Snippet Someday

Tagged by @ladytanithia. Thanks for including me in all these silly little writing memes :D

Once again, I don't know anyone who I can tag, so whoever wants to participate should go right ahead!

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from:

Your first chapter

Your favorite chapter

Your most challenging chapter

Or, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

I only have the one fic up on ao3, so I'll be pulling from that one :3

FIRST CHAPTER – The Ruins

The first chapter of my story was written when I hadn't even begun to think about what followed it. I think I got about four chapters in before I starting conceptualizing story events to strive towards as I wrote, which I really should've done from the beginning. Would've helped the first few chapters feel more connected and complimentary to the rest of the fic. Never too late to go back and rewrite those puppies, though.

Unsure of what else she could do, Fari sat and waited, resolving to watch them for however long it took until she could safely slip away. To her, there was no more grueling task than that which necessitated patience, but she was no fool. There were five of them and one of her; there was taking risks and then there was risking it all.

FAVORITE CHAPTER – The Departed

I just feel like I hit my stride in this chapter. The goodbye scene between Temba and Gwilin is solid. Gwilin gets to talk about what it was like to become aware of his socioeconomic status as the child of immigrant farmers, then rips a giant fart. Wilhelm gets all riled up and it's fun as hell. It's a charming portrait of Ivarstead, more than anything else. Plus the pacing is pretty good.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Gwilin lifted his right leg almost imperceptibly, and released what could only be described as the loudest, most ungodly string of flatulence to ever materialize within their mortal plane. It echoed through the inn's ceiling and drowned out Lynly's lute playing for the entire five seconds throughout which it transpired. Kynareth herself wept. "Oh, for Talos' sake!" scolded Wilhelm, at the sight of the mute laughter they both erupted into. "Us not having any guests isn't an invitation for you two to do away with decorum!" Gwilin responded by letting out a dainty toot.

MOST CHALLENGING CHAPTER – The Hunting Trip AND The Salt and the Wound

These are tied for having been complete hell to write. After going over The Hunting Trip for a few days I feel like I ended up with something pretty good, but I never really landed on a version of The Salt and the Wound that I liked. It's definitely due for a heavy, heavy revision.

"Come with me, Gwilin," she urged. "There's nothing for either of us here. We'll see everything together. We can be on a caravan to Camlorn one day and a ship to Falinesti the next. You can draw the people we meet. I can sing to you each night next to the fire." She looked down at the hand she'd curled into his, and her voice grew soft. "We'll make love, and it'll always feel like the first time…"

#tag game #writing meme #tesblr #depictions

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sunlightbabe · 1 year

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EMILY, hun 💕💕💕💕

5, 23 and 8, please?

FOXY my beloved 💛

5) Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

deffo the masquerade fic. It's honestly... halfway done? Maybe a third? When I really get writing, I just don't know where to stop sksks but!!! It's getting there and I'm excited. The snippet:

You feel like you’ve walked into a movie scene. The hallways are covered in a rich, plush carpet and the chandeliers overhead give off a warm and inviting glow. Servers walk around with plates held delicately in their hands, tiny hors d'oeuvres and glasses of bubbling champagne passing from hand to hand to hand. Victoria, who certainly has no idea where she’s going but is good enough at pretending like she does that you don’t question her, leads the three of you down the hall and towards where the music is loudest, coming to a stop on the top landing of a grand staircase.

The ballroom is the most extravagant room you have ever seen. Dozens upon dozens of people mill about- some are dancing, dresses flowing beautifully in time with the waltz that the string section is playing, while others are mingling and chatting with glasses in hand. The fact that it’s a masquerade makes it just a little bit easier to deal with. You can’t tell who is who, not that you expected to know anyone here anyways, but you know that your own mask provides you with a safety net of anonymity.

Victoria glances around the room and stands up a bit straighter before nodding her head. “Alright, you two stay here, I’m going to go find the others.” And without waiting for a response, she untangles her arm from yours and sets off through the crowd of people. You lose sight of her almost immediately.

“... should we place bets on how quickly she’ll get distracted?” Thomas jokes. You giggle and shake your head fondly.

“I bet she’s already bumped into someone she knows. We might not see her again for the rest of the night.” You’ve always considered yourself a social person, but seeing Victoria in action was something else.

Beside you, you can feel Thomas shift his weight from foot to foot. You place your hand on his arm to get his attention.

“You know you don’t have to babysit me, right? You can go out there if you want to.”

“I’m not going to abandon you,” Thomas replies quickly, giving your arm a little tug. “Friends stick together.”

“Friends also encourage each other to go out and have fun,” you say with a pointed eyebrow- although the effect is lost since its hidden by your mask. “You’re practically vibrating with excitement.”

Thomas looks between you and the crowd. You take the opportunity to untangle your arm from his and give him a gentle shove. "Go."

23) Would you like to go on a writing retreat?

oooh I think that would be so fun?? but knowing me, I would find a way to get distracted. if nothing else, I could use a vacation and maybe I'd eventually be able to sit down and getting into a writing groove and just knock everything off my list.

8) Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

hhh I do have the loosest ideas. not for a plot, but more of a concept? I'm sorta testing it with an upcoming and belated whoops holiday fic, but I've always wanted to try my hand at a "choose your own adventure" type story. Not just with multiple endings, but with actual decisions the reader can make throughout the story that effects the ending. It's going to take so much planning and work, but I think it would be really fun to write and to see what endings people get (and whether or not people try to get them all hehe)

#ask #foxy tag

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glimmerglanger · 3 years

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Snippet for Home (On the Range): I'm curious about any past relationships Cody and Ben have had, and so if you feel up to it, I'd love to watch them have the conversation about past loves that always has to happen eventually. :D

:D GOOD MORNING! I almost said this was the first of the follow-ups for "Home (On the Range)" but, in fact, there've been two already aha. This is the first one set AFTER the fic, though only by a week or so.

This is a (not that) little Codywan snippet. Established relationship and it got VERY SPICY. Grown-up conversations ensue.

~~~~

The temperatures had dipped well into chilly, at least overnight, when Cody suggested they head out deep into the ranch one evening. “You can see every star up there,” he said, pulling Ben into a kiss. “Thought it might be nice. And we’ll want to do it before it gets any colder.”

Ben wondered if the suggestion had anything to do with the astronomy lessons he’d been prepping for class, even as he hummed agreement. They piled blankets into the bed of Cody’s truck, along a sleeping bag and a few thermoses full of something warm.

It was dark by the time they pulled up onto the ridge of a hill, deep inside the borders of the ranch. Cody turned the lights off, nothing but the rumble of the engine breaking the stillness of the night, and said, “It’ll take a bit for our eyes to adjust. Half an hour, maybe.”

“Oh, really?” Ben said, hooking a finger into the collar of Cody’s shirt and pulling him over, murmuring, against his mouth, “whatever shall we do to fill the time?”

Cody huffed a laugh, mouth welcoming and warm, swearing briefly when Ben added, after a beat, “You know, I’m not sure there’s any way I can fit into your lap over there.”

Cody’s eyes caught the light of the stars outside, just a little, as he rasped back, “Good thing we’ve got the entire bed of the truck, then.” And he popped open his door, allowing in the cooler outside air, even as he turned off the truck.

The air felt nippy on Ben’s face as they climbed up into the bed of the truck, but it wasn’t so bad, really. They’d spread out the sleeping bag along the bed, keeping away the chill of the metal, and there were plenty of blankets.

And, well.

Kissing Cody always warmed him up, anyway. Ben thought about pulling his close, the stars as yet unseen stretching overhead and the hills rolling all around them, the Tetons watching, sentinels in the distance.

Cody swore when his phone buzzed, pulling it out of his pocket and taking a step away from the truck as Ben finished sorting the blankets, considering that he’d never had sex in the back of a truck before. It seemed a nice idea, making love out under the endless sky.

He grimaced when he recalled that he’d left his wallet back at the house, condoms along with it, though he’d slid a packet of lube into his front pocket. He frowned, swinging over the side of the truck to see if Cody had brought his wallet, plucking it from his pocket as he said, “--Rex, I swear to God, if you try to come out here right now--”

He winked when Cody looked over at him, waving the wallet, and listening to Rex laugh, his voice distant and distorted through the phone.

Ben left them to it, climbing back up into the truck, flipping Cody’s wallet open, pleased to find a familiar little foil square tucked inside. He drew it out, planning to set it aside for use in a bit, when they needed it, and frowned.

It felt...odd.

He tilted it around - noting the brand - and peered at it in the light provided by the moon and the stars. He blinked, grabbed his own phone, and turned it on to get enough light to read it properly, sure that he’d misread the expiration date, because--

“Something wrong?” Cody asked, the truck dipping slightly as he stepped up onto the bed, apparently done with Rex.

“Well,” Ben said, putting down his phone and turning the condom in his fingers. “Aside from the fact that this condom expired five years ago, not really.”

Cody paused, still standing, looking down at him. “Oh,” he said, as Ben turned the little packet again and then, on a whim, tore it open. He’d never actually seen one expire before.

“Hm,” he said, wrinkling his nose. Apparently, they were not one of the things that stayed good, even long, long after they expired. Any moisture had long since disappeared. The condom itself looked like a dessicated snake skin, or something like it. “I don’t think this’ll work,” he added. “Though we could try rehydrating it, I suppose, I--”

“Let’s not do experiments on the condom,” Cody said, taking it out of his fingers and tucking it into a pocket. “Should we go back to the house? Get another one?” He sank down, close by, and Ben considered it, but--

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to entertain ourselves,” he said, looped an arm around Cody’s shoulders, and pulled him close.

He’d gotten familiar with the best ways to take off Cody’s clothes, unbuttoning his flannel shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, tugging his undershirt out of his waistband. Cody pulled the blankets up around them, the warmth from his skin translating into Ben’s body as Ben shimmied out of his jeans, pulling his own shirt over his head.

The moonlight shone off of Cody’s skin, caught in the dark curls of his hair. Their breath steamed the air - the temperature had really plunged with the fall of night - but Ben didn’t feel cold, not as they tangled close together, trading kisses that set a fire in his veins, not with Cody putting off heat like a furnace, warm hands all over Ben’s skin.

And Ben had become rather fond of the idea of getting fucked under the stars, in the brief time he’d had to consider it. Just because it wasn’t going to happen the way he’d initially assumed didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen at all.

“Here,” he rasped, rolling onto his side, grabbing for the jeans and the lube in his pocket, pulling it out, “Here, like this, ah, Cody.”

Cody’s weight felt good against his back, warm and solid, Cody’s teeth scraping along the curve of his shoulder as he settled, taking the packet of lube from Ben’s fingers without any of the hesitation he’d displayed the first few times they were intimate with one another.

“Like this?” Cody rumbled, right against his shoulder, and Ben heard the wet movement of Cody slicking up his own cock, felt the smear of the rest of the lube over the back of his thighs and--

Exhaled, hard, when Cody ground against him, overheated flesh sliding together. Probably, they were making more of a mess than they should have done, out in the middle of some field, out in - in such an exposed place, but--

It was hard to care, with Cody sucking a kiss into his neck and grinding against him, panting out, “Spread your legs, just a little,” and when Ben listened, slotting his cock right between Ben’s thighs, rocking them together.

If there were anyone around, Ben hated to think what would have been overheard, the two of them swearing and gasping and groaning. He knew he cried out, loudly, when Cody slid a hand over his hip, gripping his cock and stroking him, so sure and so steady and--

Well.

The sleeping bag was going to need a wash when they got back home.

So was Ben, in all honesty.

He laughed, hoarsely, when Cody pulled away from him, leaving his inner thighs smeared with come. It was quite warm, at first, but Ben knew that wouldn’t last. “See,” he said, sprawling onto his side, thighs held apart, groping for something to wipe up with, “a condom would have prevented this mess.”

“Sorry about that,” Cody said, and then, “here, use my shirt.”

And then he used it himself, wiping up the mess all over Ben’s legs and cock. He even smeared away the mess on the sleeping bag, as best he could. Ben watched him - he was easier to see, Ben’s eyes must have adjusted, and said, “Why did you have an expired condom in your wallet, anyway?”

Cody balled his shirt up, the mess tucked away inside, and shrugged. He tossed it into one corner of the bed of the truck. “It’s just the one I’ve always had. I never really checked the date on it.”

Ben blinked, turning that over in his head, even as Cody settled close to him, naked under the blankets. Ben said, as Cody curled an arm around him. “The one you’ve always - you - what does that mean?”

Cody shrugged, stubble rasping against Ben’s shoulder, while Ben wondered if Cody had really avoided using a condom before, because that didn’t sound like him at all, and--

“I got it, ah, years ago. When I was - when I thought I might need it. But then I didn’t. I kept it, just in case. But…” He trailed off, shrugging again.

Ben blinked up at the clear, shining stars, and then rolled to face Cody, gut doing something strange. “Wait. Did you never--”

“I did stuff,” Cody said, still staring up at the stars. “A few times with, uh, with a guy I really liked. He competed, too. We were friends for a while. And then one day I just wanted to kiss him, so I did. And we, well. Fooled around, I guess. But then I beat him, pretty soundly, and he didn’t want to anymore.”

Ben blinked, processing that. He’d known that, sooner or later, they’d end up having a talk about their pasts. That kind of thing happened. “He didn’t want to anymore?” he asked, trying to get his mind around anyone not wanting Cody anymore, he was--

“Yeah, I guess.” Cody sighed, tucked his arm behind his head, and stared starward. “And I’d already bought the string of condoms, even though we’d only needed two. But then it was over, so. And I put one in my wallet.”

Ben watched his expression carefully. He didn’t seem upset. Just...relating the story. “And then you never used it,” Ben said, quietly.

“Never needed it,” Cody said, shrugging against the sleeping bag. “I’ve been busy since then. And didn’t have anyone I particularly wanted to use it with.”

“Oh,” Ben said, the cold air nipping at his exposed skin, but ever so warm under the blankets.

“What about you?” Cody asked, before he could wrangle another thought together. “Yours aren’t ever expired.”

“Ah, no,” Ben said, and then shrugged, settling against Cody’s side. “I’ve always been very careful to use them.” He felt his ears heat.

Cody hummed, curled an arm tighter around him, and said, “I know you’ve been with more people’n me, Ben. It doesn’t bother me. Hell, I’m glad one of us knows what we’re doing.”

Ben exhaled a little, snuggling in closer against the cold. It had, probably, been foolish to worry, to brace for disapproval. He traced patterns on Cody’s chest under the blanket and said, “I had no idea that you didn’t, ah, know what you were doing.”

Cody snorted, rolling onto his side, brushing a kiss to Ben’s cheek and then his mouth, fingers tracing down his spine. His expression, what Ben could see of it, looked a bit smug. “I learn fast,” he said, tone warm and low. “Especially when I get hands-on instruction.”

“I see that.” Ben crooked his mouth, brushing Cody’s hair back from his face. He figured, feeling soft and content, that if they were going to discuss their histories, he might as well finish it all, and went on, “I haven’t had many long relationships. Just...brief flings. A longer thing with a girl, right before I started college. And Luminara and I tried to make something work, once. But we’re much better friends than lovers.”

Cody nodded, said, “I never was very interested in girls.”

“Mm, I gathered.” He leaned in for another kiss, shivering when Cody brushed his callused fingers a little lower. He rasped, gut tightening, “Don’t tease.”

“Sorry,” Cody murmured, nipping his bottom lip. “And sorry we don’t have all the supplies we need.” Ben hummed, not overly concerned by the lack, not when they could trade sweet, lazy kisses, occasionally glancing at the stars, until Cody went on, “You know. We could - well. We’re together. Just the two of us.”

Ben turned away from his contemplation of a constellation he couldn’t name, nodding, and Cody went on, “We could get tested. I mean. I don’t think I could have caught anything, to be honest. And if I had, I think I’d have noticed in the last couple of years. And you’ve been careful, you said. But better to check. And then…”

He shrugged, and Ben considered it. He’d never slept with anyone skin on skin. Qui-Gon had been exceedingly clear about all the possible consequences of skipping out on protection. Even with Satine, young and giddy half the time, he’d always been careful.

But - he didn’t plan to share his bed with anyone else, he considered, staring across at Cody in the dark, under the brilliant light of the stars and the moon. He didn’t want to kiss anyone else. Or pull anyone else close in the night.

His heart ached in his chest, sweetly, and he said, “And then we wouldn’t need supplies to have sex in the back of your truck?”

“Mm,” Cody said, rolling closer to him, one elbow braced by his head, leaning down to kiss him, “Or to make love under the stars, either.”

Ben shivered, curled an arm around him, and felt his stomach swoop, imagining that, imagining them skin to skin everywhere. He said, his voice gone to a rasp, “That sounds very nice,” and Cody smiled against his mouth, kissing him again.

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #home (on the range)#the cowboy au #follow ups #snippets #codywan #SPICY #enjoy!

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chocoholicannanymous · 3 years

Text

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic.

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #kurtbastian #itshtf

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theballadoffinchesandsaints · 3 years

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Let’s talk about the Vaincre trade:

(As I am writing this, only the first full chapter, July, has been published)

I’ve said before that I’m fairly certain it’s going to be Leo, but I want to walk through the thought process that got me there (this is long and unedited. You’ve been warned).

First, since this is going to be such a major plot point, I think it’s going to be a character who’s inner circle had at least a minor spotlight in the first chapter. These were Coops, O’knutzy, O’darwin, Thomas & Noelle (do they have a ship name???), Regulus (tho he’s obviously disqualified for not being a pro player rn), and Cole (with a bit of Dumo).

Additionally, I think a key component of this plotline will be developing characters so that they can stand on their own once separated from a crucial relationship (thematically, it makes the most sense to me).

With that in mind, let’s do some quick (yeah lol prob not quick) disqualifications from the list:

Remus: I know this is a more common theory (and god would it hurt) but Remus’ storyline is already jampacked with living up to the standards of the league, team, and public, as well as adjust to a new relationship dynamic with Sirius. On a more heavy note, Remus will have to navigate how playing hockey will interact with the trauma of Greyback’s attack and the resulting injury. I’m sure most of us inferred that this would be a plot point, but the idea was solidified in a snippet of Remus and the team discussing predictions for the top teams of the season.

Sirius: while narratively, I actually think it would be fascinating to see the lions learn to be a team without their leader and to see Sirius have to learn that there are other parts of the world he can trust, this one falls apart in both logistics and clues Hazel has already given us. Truly, I cannot imagine a trade in which it would make sense for the Lions to give up their beloved, talented, effective captain and first line center, especially after he just led them to Stanley Cup. And when someone asked Hazel about (I believe) what relationships would be highlighted in Vaincre, Coops made the list with the qualification that their storyline would largely center around Remus’s adjustment to the team. A Sirius trade requires long-distance Coops angst which, while possible, would be both difficult and against the spirit of the statement.

O’Darwin and Thomas & Noelle already have long-distance angst happening in July, so trading either Kasey or Thomas would miss some of the emotional punch we know Hazel is going to give us.

Cole: I mean, the kid’s a rookie. It doesn’t really make sense. Threads seem to be being set up with the Dumais’ baby sitter and maybe one of the new PTs? (I don’t remember exactly where I’m getting this from, but I’m near certain it was from Hazel’s tumblr). It seems like physical encounters are going to be a big thing with both of these relationships, plus all the obvious great storylines of a new rookie getting comfortable in the team, make it unlikely Cole will be the trade. Not to mention, there are no guts to punch with Cole. We love him already, but he isn’t close with anyone on the team yet. We’d feel disappointed, not devastated, if he got traded. We all know Hazel’s going for devastation.

Dumo: this one approaches probability for me. Dumo would be heartbreaking for every member of the team, but especially Sirius and Logan. It would also sort of follow through on a previous idea from a rough draft of SW where Dumo has a career-ending injury. All the players would have to learn to navigate life without a father figure, and it would break down the system of where many Lions rookies live. But this one’s all speculation, at least as far as I know. It’s not hinted at in July, and I can’t think of any snippets that suggest Dumo. Plus, it feels like all of the main POVs have been set up in July, and we know from the dreaded “of being a lion” snippet (in which said player gets called about the trade) that we do get POV chapters from the player who’s traded.

We’ll get back to O’knutzy later. First, some people who aren’t on the list that I feel are worth discussing briefly (tho these are unlikely for the reasons at the end of Dumo’s):

Kuny & Nado: Now, I remember Kuny’s “no trades, no trades” thing from Hazel’s tumblr. It hurts. It feels like foreshadowing. But, remember, Hazel has also said that these boys will both play a more secondary role in Vaincre. They’re both safe.

James: I go back and forth on this one all the time. Thematically, separating Sirius and James would be both heartbreaking and deeply interesting. James was a major force in bringing Sirius out of his shell, and Sirius would have to learn to maintain that without his best friend always by his side. James and Lily are also suspiciously absent from July. I know Hazel said they’re on their honeymoon, and I’m not disputing that in any way, shape, or form. However, it does provide ample excuse to become a new POV in August. However, I can’t find any snippets to really support it. And, just, in general, James as a character in Hazel’s fics (or at least in Solntse and SW) provides a stable backbone for the other characters. He’a developed as a character but stable and happy. This could be the thing that changes that, but, at the very least, it doesn’t fit the narrative role he serves in SW, and I think it would change the feel and character dynamic of the fic as a whole (not just of the team) too much for that to be the choice.

And then there’s O’knutzy:

Going into Vaincre, I asked myself: what are everyone’s plotlines going to be? Remus will adjust to the team and playing Greyback. Sirius will largely be his support system, tho some stuff may be done with his relationship with Regulus and/or moving on from any semblance of his parents’ influence. Dumo will welcome rookie Cole onto the team. James will be a new father. Thomas and Noelle will have long-distance relationship feels. Kasey will adjust to O’darwin, and probably also deal with his reoccurring injury.

And the cubs? Are in a happy, stable relationship with everything they’ve ever wanted. The seeds to a storyline regarding whether or not they choose to come out was definitely hinted at in July, but I don’t think it will be their sole focus. Thankfully, there is nothing pressuring them to come out currently. They think about it. They long to do it. But nothing has changed since the end of SW/CtC. If one of them was long-distance, that would change the dynamic. When you can always go home to your two loving boyfriends, it doesn’t hurt quite as bad when you can’t be affectionate when out with them in public. When you’re only in the same city for a day or two roughly every month (depending on which team the trade is with), every second you could spend holding them and don’t hurts more and more. Whether I think they choose to come out or not, I really don’t know. I think so, but I’m definitely not sure. But the real question is, which cub goes away and prompts this?

If it’s a cub, it’s definitely Leo. Hazel posted a snippet that just...says so much.

Do I even need to explain? She practically told us. I’ve spent over an hour analyzing nearly every prominent Lion when Hazel practically told us Leo was going to be the trade with this right here.

But I do have more to say. I don’t think either Finn or Logan would work well as the trade. The plot of them being separated was well explored in CtC, and I honestly just don’t think it needs more examination. They learned to cherish each other, talk to each other, love each other freely and honestly. Them being separated again would just hurt. It wouldn’t serve a narrative purpose.

On the other hand, I do think Leo’s character could actually benefit from some time alone. He had barely a few months as a full-blown adult, working in the NHL, before he entered a committed relationship with his two lovely boyfriends, both of whom had had years more time to live with and explore themselves (tho it’s not as if they were doing that freely). A couple of months or even years dating long-distance could force Leo to have some more adventures on his own and come into himself more. Then, he can fully return to his boys, his “long-lost lover[s],” and be more stable in his love.

In a similar vein, Logan and Finn have only had short amounts of time to make their leg of the relationship stable and happy in comparison to the time they spent yearning or heartbroken. Even in CtC, their reflex is to go to Leo first, which is, of course, perfectly fine and lovely and adorable, but I think they need to spend some time unlearning that knee jerk reaction.

Then, when Leo comes back (because one way or another, in canon or in my head, he will), all three are confident in themselves as individuals and in each leg of the relationship as well as the three of them as group. No one and no couple n e e d s anything, but they come back together because they all love each other, more than anything.

That’s what I think will see in Vaincre. At the very least, it’s what I want.

Vaincre is by the one and only @lumosinlove

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chispas-and-broken-bindings · 3 years

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I really wanted to get the next chapter of Nothing Sacred, All Things Wild up this week, but work was crazy and I also got caught up in another story (I can’t control my muse)...so instead I’m offering up a long snippet of the dystopian/space colonist fic I started off a prompt I got a while ago for an “Arranged Marriage + a/b/o” request I got from an anon.

A/B/O is not my cup of tea, so I twisted it into an arranged marriage by an artificial intelligence instead:

He wakes up angry, sweat soaking through his pillow, heart racing, stomach cramped. The alarm is buzzing from somewhere beneath the bed, where he must have knocked it.

“Turn it off,” Ygritte mutters into his shoulder, before rolling away with the rest of their thin blanket.

He complies, letting the shock of the cold floor against his feet spur him into full wakefulness. “I take the test today.” It’s raining. He watches the drops splatter against the small window near the ceiling, and he wonders if Ygritte remembered to check the bucket beneath the leak before she crawled into bed the night before.

Their garden apartment doesn’t do well in the rain. Jon still doesn’t understand why it’s even called a garden...there’s nothing green about their cramped basement residence, besides the mold growing beneath the sink.

“Oh yeah. Happy birthday...we’ll get drinks when you come home.”

“If I come home.” He could be part of the one percent, after all. That is the Institution's promise. Everyone is SOMEONE. Anyone can be part of the 1%. Are YOU?

Jon knows it’s unlikely. How could he, an orphan from Mole’s Town, have the magic combination of pheno-, geno-, and personality type to be chosen for the Colony? No...he’s just another loser of the 99% who will waste his twenty-first birthday behind the Brutalist concrete walls of the Institution’s testing center, playing lab rat for the day, until the examiners come to the inevitable conclusion that he’s just another nobody.

They’ll spit him back out on the street, leaving him free to carve out a pathetic existence on a slowly dying planet.

He doesn’t bother washing. It’d be a waste of precious water when he knows full well they’ll scrub him down at the testing center. Instead he spends his last moments at home drinking a pot of weak coffee, trying to remember anything he was taught in the schools he barely attended. His energy would be better spent bracing for the coming indignity of having every part of his body and mind exposed and dissected.

“Is the area of a circle, two pi times the radius? Or is that the circumference?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ygritte lights a cigarette at the stove before joining him at the table. “It’s not that kind of test.”

He knows that. It’s another Institution promise. The Test doesn’t ask WHAT you know. It asks who YOU are. Are YOU the 1%

How the fuck would Jon know? It’s easier for him to remember that the area of a circle is actually pi times the radius squared, than it is for him to explain who he is. He has no idea. That’s kind of what being an orphan is all about.

Ygritte could at least throw him a bone and tell him what the test is like. She took it two years ago, though she won’t talk. Most people won’t. There are no rules against it, but The Test is treated like dysentery. Unless you live behind the gates, you’re going to get it at least once in your life, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna go around describing your diarrhea to the world.

Grenn went to White Harbor for the test a month ago, and though Jon had to buy him six beers and two shots of whiskey before Grenn would shut up about his first-ever train ride, he did give Jon a few insights into the rest of the experience.

Not that the train isn’t worth the excitement, especially when the ride is paid for (another Institution promise. No matter your means. No matter the distance. EVERYONE makes it to the Test. Are YOU the 1%?) Technically, Jon has taken it once before, from Winterfell to Mole’s Town as a baby, but he doesn’t remember.

Now he can’t believe anything that moves so fast could feel so smooth. He’s topped out at ninety miles per hour on the best snowmobile Donal Noye patched together, but that left his teeth rattling and his ears buzzing for hours afterward. The train is moving at double the speed, but he could be in the godswood, for how quiet the near-empty economy cabin is. He shares it with a twitchy young man who never looks up from a cheap tablet, and a black raven perched in a large cage who spends the entire ride staring at Jon with one eerie black eye.

The testing center is located just across from the train station, in an intimidating building that used to have a name. Jon has a vague memory that it was a prison before the Institution took it over. Before that it was something else.

He doesn’t balk when a masked orderly leads him to a small room, tells him to strip, and then takes off with his clothes. He knows they’ll be returned at the end of the day. Of more pressing concern is the man and woman who enter talking too quietly to make out at the other end of the room, while a nurse rolls in with a small cart covered in collection tubes, gauze strips, and butterfly needles.

Everyone wears surgical masks, latex gloves, long white coats, and black clogs.

Jon remains naked beneath a small paper covering.

He has given blood before, and the messy, life-saving transfusion Mance performed to save Tormund three years ago was far scarier than the rapid, methodical draw that's taken from him now. Still, it’s disconcerting to think of the secrets the Institution will glean from his blood. He’s uncomfortably aware that they’ll know who his parents are before the day is over, even as he’ll continue living in total ignorance.

Another Institution promise. The Institution values EVERYONE’S right to privacy. YOU control the right to tell the world who you are. Are YOU the 1%?

Before he’s finished the recitation in his head, five tubes are full, and the nurse pats a cotton ball and a band-aid over his arm. She tosses a granola bar on his lap before rolling out of the room with her cart of samples.

Next comes a physical exam, where the other two examiners speak only to each other as they record his height, weight, blood pressure, and note his every blemish and scar in flat affect.

“Post-burn contractures across the palmar and dorsal aspect of the left hand, adduction and extension in the metacarpophalangeal joint of thumb fall outside normal range of movement.”

“Keloid scarring along the right gastrocnemius muscle, five point three centimeters in diameter.”

“Slightly hypertrophic scarring beginning at left brow and running medially down across the left orbital cavity to the cheek. No ptosis noted. No apparent damage to the eye.”

He should feel worse beneath the weight of each fault. Instead he relaxes. He was nervous for nothing. Failure was always inevitable. The Institution would never invest in a malnourished kid with a burned hand and a badly healed leg wound. They are famously secretive about their selection process, but some reasons for failure are common knowledge. As the crows like to say, no cripples, bastards, or broken things.

So, he chews his granola bar slowly and even closes his eyes for a bit, letting the examiners move his limp limbs as necessary for their measurements. He imagines himself a cadaver during the early stages of an autopsy.

As long as they don’t cut me open….

When an white-haired man enters and lays out what look to be a series of tiny torture devices, Jon wonders if he stopped caring too soon. He white-knuckles it through an excruciating dental exam that ends with his first real exchange of the day.

“Have you ever been to a dentist, kid?”

There is still a tube in his mouth, sucking up his spit and a hook pressing at his gums, so Jon just shakes his head. There are no dentists in Mole’s Town. Just Chett, who used to work at a slaughterhouse down south and will pull a rotten tooth for the price of a bottle of whiskey. Jon wouldn’t give the creep the lint in his pocket, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let him near his mouth. Instead he brushes his teeth so hard his toothbrush regularly snaps in half, and prays something else kills him before gum disease has a chance.

“You’ve got better teeth than I see behind the gates, boy,” he pulls the hook from Jon’s mouth to dictate into a small microphone hanging from his mobile workstation. “Review DEFB1 on ID 17630343BA. At some point the focus will need to expand beyond the holy 22 and get back to the basics. Who is going to care about neuron growth if every fourth planter is born with anodontia?”

Jon understands little of what the man is saying, but he’s heard enough to know he’s at least got as good of teeth or better than some of the rich tossers who live within the heavily guarded gated communities where the Colonists are actually culled from. Behind their high walls, wealthy sons and daughters of the only one percent that really matters, spend their youths preparing for the Test in homes and classrooms pumped with filtered air, where the water runs clear, and no one ever goes to sleep with their bellies cramped from hunger or disease.

The Institution promises that ANYONE can be the 1%, but EVERYONE knows that's a lie.

---

The physical exam ends at last, after several more rounds of sterile humiliation. Jon isn’t sure which was worse; having to lie within a noisy cylinder while a disembodied voice reminded him not to move, or being asked to run naked on a treadmill, wired with electrodes.

When it’s over, the last examiner provides him with a sweatsuit that is softer and better-made than anything he owns, and he wonders if there is any way he can smuggle it out with him at the end of the day. Another orderly comes in with a waxy crisp apple that hardly seems real even as a spray of tartly sweet juice hits the back of his tongue. He’s given a pill as well that he swallows down with a cup of water so clear and so cold, it’s an act of incredible will-power not to ask for more.

It’s only after, when he’s led to a small room with two chairs, a table, and a pulsing white orb in it’s center that he thinks to ask what it’s for.

“This will make the answers come more naturally during your interviews,” the man explains before leaving him alone. “We want you to answer as truthfully as possibly, but we understand that can be difficult under the stress of the Test.”

He supposes people lie all the time on the Test, trying to game the system, though Jon doesn’t have the first idea how he’d go about doing that, nor does he have any reason to try. He’s not going to the Colony. This is all just a spectacular waste of time, and it’s a race day, which means he’ll have to pull extra shifts at the Rookery to make up for what he would have made beyond the Wall.

By the time a petite woman with a neat low bun, and cracking, grey scar across half her face and neck enters, Jon is reckless with anger.

“I’d like to go home.”

“Hello, Jon,” she smiles as she sits across from him, and she’s the first person he’s seen since he entered the building who isn’t wearing a mask. She’s also the first person to call him by his name. “My name is Shireen.”

“Where’s your mask?”

Her smile dims slightly, but she maintains her gentle tone. “I’m here to facilitate the interview portion of your Test today. Before we begin, is there anything you need to feel more comfortable? Something to eat, drink, a bathroom break? Should the temperature be adjusted?”

He’s sour with anger so he takes everything she offers, suddenly eager to make everything as inconvenient as possible for the Institution. Shireen takes his requests with an easy smile, however, escorting him to the restroom herself. When they return to the room, there is a bowl of hearty soup with a chunk of bread that is soft and airy beneath it’s golden-brown crust. Beside it is a tall glass of water and a smaller cup of green liquid that Jon eyes suspiciously.

“What’s this then?”

“I thought you might like some juice. It’s mostly apple, with some kale, cucumber and celery in it as well, I suspect.”

It’s the best thing Jon has ever tasted, and while part of him wants to fling the rest of it at her frustratingly serene face, it’d be a horrible waste, and he’d be the biggest loser. So, he takes his time, savoring each bite and sip, rolling the bright flavors across his delighted tongue.

“Feeling better?” she asks after the tray is cleared.

“Is that an official Test question?”

“No.”

“Let’s get on with it then. I can’t afford to miss the train home.”

“As you may know, it is not individuals who decide the 1%. Our artificial intelligence algorithm, The Seven, determines who is the best fit for the Colony. That is how the institution guarantees objectivity in its selection process,” she taps the pulsing orb on the table. “Though we find people are more comfortable responding to another person, so I will be facilitating our discussion as The Seven records and analyzes your responses. Are you ready to begin?”

He shrugs.

“I’ll start with a series of statements. After each, please say a number to indicate the degree to which you agree with that statement, wherein one equals strongly disagree and five equals strongly agree. Three indicates you neither agree nor disagree. Do you understand?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Statement Number one: At social events, you rarely try to introduce yourself to new people and mostly talk to the ones you already know.”

Jon knows everyone in Mole’s Town, and he doesn’t want to socialize with most of them.

“Two.”

This goes on for a while, each statement absurdly divorced from anything relating to Jon’s life, but the numbers spring easily from his lips as he relaxes under Shireen’s soothing voice, and kind face, and the lovely feeling of a full belly and soft, warm clothes.

It’s when the format shifts, that he begins to feel strange. Shireen starts with questions that are easy to answer. Where were you born? How many years of education have you completed? What was your favorite class and why? What do you do for work? Describe your strengths. When are you most satisfied in your job? Do you live alone or with others? How many others do you live with? What is your relationship to the person you live with?

At this point, the questions grow more invasive; more personal. A voice tells Jon that the Institution doesn’t need to know how many times he and Ygritte fuck a week...but the answer escapes all the same.

“Four or five times a week.”

“Do you use contraception methods?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to have children with your partner?”

“No.”

“Given your age and your partner’s, without contraception, given your regular intercourse the odds of conception are--”

“She’s sterile.”

“How do you know that?”

“Most everyone in Mole’s Town is. It’s something in the water, or the air, or our weak genes. It doesn’t really matter the cause. If it’s not the one; it’s the other. She’s been fucking since she was fifteen, and nothing’s ever caught.”

“How do you know that you aren’t the sterile one?”

He shrugs. “I probably am too, but I’m not her first partner as you say. I’m not her second or third either.”

“How does that make you feel?”

He glares, and Shireen clarifies.

“Your partner’s sterility?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” he pushes back from the table, letting his chair lean back on two legs.

Shireen only gives him a minute shake of her head, and waits for him to answer the question.

“Angry. I feel fucking furious about it.”

“So, you would like to be a father?”

“I’d like the freedom to choose. I’d like Ygritte to have that freedom.”

“What is your least favorite thing about humanity?”

She can’t be serious with that question. It’s like asking him to name all the stars. He takes a deep breath. Shireen waits. He stands up and paces. Shireen waits. He finishes his water and asks for another. Shireen calls for a refill. He drinks that too. Shireen waits.

“My least favorite thing? That we’ve given up. We let this machine,” he points at the orb, “decide who doesn’t have to. It’s like….it’s like the men in Mole’s Town who wander into the snows when winter grows too cold, and there’s not enough food or warmth to go around. Grown-ass men who could be fixing furnaces and braving the cold to find the resources their families so desperately need. Most of the time they don’t even have the fucking guts to tell anyone what they’re off to do. They just wander away one day, and winter takes them.

That’s what the fucking Institution is. We’re all those men in Mole’s Town who’ve just given up, despite the blood still pumping through our veins. We’re sitting around, waiting for winter to kill us, so that a few can live. And there’s no one left to be mad about it either, because it’s a fucking machine that decides our fate. It’s like being mad at the wind. What’s the fucking point? But just because there is no one to be angry with, that doesn’t mean the rage goes away...and winter isn’t killing us fast enough."

“So you want to live?”

“I want humanity to want to live. I want humanity to want most of humanity to live. I want us to care about more than the one percent.”

It feels radical, saying it here; behind the walls of the Institution. It feels like he’s put the last nail in his own coffin. Shireen watches him as he cracks his knuckles, one at a time, waiting for her to say the interview is over; it’s time to go home.

Instead she asks an even crazier question.

“Do you think there is an essential connection between the morality of an action and the morality of the intentions behind it?”

#my writing #work in progress #jonsa fic #jonsa dystopian au #kind of inspired by songs of a distant earth #when I get to the new planet #whenever that happens #shireen!

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