#like I'm the kind who would daydream about a chapter for a long time. maybe write small parts daily if time permits

[chaotic-guinea-pig]

the good thing about consistent sleeping schedules is yay, more sleep!!

...but then I fall asleep before my creative energy bursts, which come after midnight. :( my writing sessions used to be late (up to 3am, even), but alas, gotta find a new time now. :((

#like I'm the kind who would daydream about a chapter for a long time. maybe write small parts daily if time permits #but I kid you not 90% of the final chapter gets written during random late night bursts LMAO #and now modern life demands a normal sleeping schedule of me GRRRRR #what is structure >:(

[goldustwomun]

pacifier (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter! reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. plus, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, cocky sirius and like kind of an annoying younger sister reader (but also that's literally me lol), bad transitions between light hearted banter and angst but i'm trying my best RIP, i imagine sirius to be mid-20s and reader only 3/4 years younger (but everyone is OF AGE), mommy issues if you squint

wc: 5.4k+

note: soooo i'm back :D again :D i'm almost done with second year and actually somewhat ahead with all my papers (with very minimal finals; def recommend being a history major x) and i've just been missing the community so enjoy this! i had this first chapter posted a while back (like maybe a year) but it was actually ass so i've redone it a little :)))) as always, reblogs and comments are MUCH appreciated and i can't wait to interact w/ y'all over this because i have been DAYDREAMING about brother's bf sirius :')

“What do you mean he’s working at the shop as well?!” you screeched, chasing your Mother around the kitchen, feeling a lot like the pesky youngest child you were. 

“He needs some help so we offered to give him a job. Honestly sweetheart, aren’t you too old for this childish feud?”

“Too old? Shouldn’t you be saying that to him? He’s like– thirty or something, and still continues to be the bane of my existence. Fucking Bla–”

Your Mother whirled on you abruptly, brandishing the wooden spoon she was about to stir the boiling pot with right in your face. “Language, missy! I would tell him the same thing, but unluckily for you, you’re my daughter and currently living under my roof, so you get to hear it first.” She gave you a saccharine sweet smile, the kind that had you biting back the urge to stomp your feet and pout at her until she gave in. Unfortunately for you, that hadn’t worked since you were about six years old. 

“--now, he’s been gone for such a long time, and we’re all very excited to see him, so don’t ruin this reunion with any more of your tantrums.”

You opened your mouth, intent on not letting the argument die there, but your Father bounded into the kitchen at the same moment, ruffling up your hair with a “Hey there, kiddo,” before promptly moving on to snake his hands around your Mother’s waist. “Looking as beautiful as always, my dear,” he cooed into her ear. She let out an uncharacteristic giggle that had you bolting from the kitchen before you were scarred any further.

Your parents’ tooth-aching affections for each other were just that: sweet, but sickly all the same. Deep down, you knew you yearned for a romance like theirs, something genuine but passionate, able to withstand the test of time (and your ever-dwindling patience). James, your older brother, had found it with Lily, their son Harry being a product of their young but no less intense love. 

And you loved that kid like he was your own. Would beg James to let you come over, play with the babbling toddler for a few hours, would even offer up your weekends, encouraging the young couple to “go out, live a little!”. But they were about as infatuated with their own child as you were, and had a never-ending supply of friends who were equally as eager to help out.

Speaking of, one of those eager friends was currently pounding his stupid fist against your stupid front door, and you were already riled up from the news that you couldn’t take seeing his face physically in front of you, as well. 

You shoved past James, knocking him back a step as his hand reached for the door to let his best mate in. You caught a glimpse of him on the doorstep, the first in almost two years– hair unruly like he’d just rolled out of bed, long, black strands; newly tanned skin blushing under the heat of the sun; those thick, brooding eyebrows that raised up in your direction – eughh. 

“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” James called at your retreating figure, shouting loud enough to be heard over your heavy footsteps despite the carpeted floor. 

“Ask your best mate over there!” you answered back with a bite, slamming your room door shut.

“Fuck,” he sighed, defeated, yanking his confused friend in and a chucking a thumb towards the stairs. “How’ve you managed to piss her off before you even got here?” he asked incredulously. “Peace– we had peace in this house for the past two years since you’ve been off travelling, and now look–! It’s a bloody riot!”

“Oi– I’ve done nothing,” he moaned indignantly, hanging his coat and scarf on the gold-crested hooks by the door. “--I think,” he added for good measure after a beat.

He never understood why the two of you struggled to get along. You’d grown up together, spent every waking moment in each other’s presence when he was at the Potter residence (which happened to be just about always given his own family situation). In theory, he should be like some sort of older brother figure– someone to loan out advice and shoulders to cry on and all that jazz.

But no. Something about you and your irritatingly know-it-all personality, or shrill voice when indignant (which was rather often around him), or your need to always be right – something about you made it so he just had to tease you endlessly until you were yelling, voice all pitchy, nostrils flared, breath heavy and face blotchy. When things would begin to die down, he’d find something else to point out, argue back, hit the nail on your specific head– something to really push you that little bit over the edge. 

It was a little too fun to not try to get a rise out of you every time you were together. And as much as Sirius was aware that the jabs each of you threw had gotten a little more out of hand and a little less appropriate for your relationship– he just couldn’t stop. 

The rest of the Potter family didn’t share your sentiments about Sirius, and rather adored him immeasurably. Had since he’d taken to hiding out in their house after a particularly brutal fight at home when he was only eleven. Heck, he’d even attended every Potter-family gathering, dinner, birthday, you name it, since then. It was why he came over every Sunday for a roast, pudding and some chat – he could never put into words what your family had done for him, the safety, security, home, even, they'd given him when he’d been lost and entirely clueless of what a real family looked like.

So he made the thirty-minute drive, every Sunday, much to your irritation. He plastered on the biggest smile for your Mum, complimenting every minute detail of the meal she cooked for the family, drank a glass of whiskey and smoked a cigar with your Dad; he was even Harry’s favourite, always humming quiet melodies into the youngest Potter’s ear.

With him travelling the world for the past almost-two-years, he’d missed out on the family time he usually looked forward to every weekend. Mondays seemed a lot less dreadful after having a belly-full of Mrs Potter’s food. Still, he’d sent postcards and printed pictures of everywhere he went, the sights he’d seen, people he’d met. It wasn’t the same, not without the lot of you to pester him (maybe you especially) but he’d needed some time to find himself.

He still wasn’t sure if he’d found what he was looking for, but the money had to have run out eventually so he was back home, ready to work and settle down in his life for once after graduating Hogwarts. 

Sirius followed James into the living room where he found Lily, sipping on a glass of red, sitting by the empty fireplace. Instead, a window had been cracked in to let the temperate wind in.

She perked up as they entered, waving with that soul-wrenching smile of hers that could persuade even the most strong-willed of men into submission. 

“Pads, you’re back!” she called from her seat. "And you've grown a moustache-- interesting choice of facial hair." Sirius, however, raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, ignoring her greeting-slash-judgement as he peered into the empty crib by her side, even going as far as to search under it as if the toddler might have escaped.

“Harry’s gone to bed in the guest room. There was a bit of a shouting match before you arrived,” James explained, sinking into the space beside his wife and pulling her into his side. “Actually, now that I think about it, there was a lot of shouting after you arrived as well!” 

Lily snorted, snuggling into her husband without hesitation, and Sirius couldn’t help but avert his eyes, feeling entirely like he was imposing on an intimate moment as the two of them whispered in the other’s ear.

“Well, don’t mind me. Sitting here, all by my lonesome, no company or polite chatter to partake in, not even my dashing god son to entertain me” he sighed, dramatically, to no one in particular. James rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, chucking a frilly throw-pillow at his face (that’s what they’re for, right?) which he just as easily caught. 

“Har-Har! Ever the clown, Paddy,” James mocked, flipping him off just in time for his Mum to walk in and see.

“James! Don’t aim such crude displays at my son,” she scolded, wrapping her wrinkled arms around Sirius’ shoulders from behind his chair. She leaned down, kissing the top of his head affectionately. Sirius only whimpered in agreement, leaning into her motherly touch and whining on and on about how James was being a right bully. 

“My sweet child, I’ve missed you!” She beamed down at him, and that longing Sirius sometimes felt for his own Mother’s approval, her devotion or fondness, it lessened. 

“But you didn’t– He was just!-- You missed– arghh!” James groaned defeatedly, head flailed back to rest against the sofa, receiving no sympathies from his giggling wife and glaring Mother. “I’m starting to understand why she hates you.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed at that– did you really hate him? Had it gotten to that point?

At the mention of your name but current absence, Mrs Potter ordered, “Go call your sister for dinner, I’ve set the table.” 

He began to protest, failing to come up with a half-decent reason why he can’t walk up the two flights of stairs and pull your petulant frame from your bed– but Sirius interrupted in time, before James could make any more of a fool himself in front of his own Mother. “I’ll go get her. Got to figure out what I did this time,” he offered coolly. 

Euphemia, that is, Mrs Potter, had a strict no-apparting rule in her house, had lost too many expensive vases from James and Sirius’ apparition-sprees the second they’d turned seventeen. You already had your licence, having been of legal age for some time, and had, since graduating (top of the class, as you tended to point out, much to your Ravenclaw friends’ dismay) from Hogwarts, found a job at a school in the muggle world, teaching children English Literature in preparation of some exam. O Levels, you’d called them. 

Sirius thought it to be some sort of torture device - these O Levels – but you’d smacked him across the head in admonishment with the book in your hand – you were always carrying one, though he designated them to be a weapon, at least when in your possession – before he could say much else. Having a family-run bookshop made it so that the books, or the weapons, really, were in endless supply for you, much to Sirius’ chagrin.

Your love for reading had come from him, your Father, from when he’d stay up till the late hours of the night, hushed whispers under your bed sheet so your Mother wouldn’t hear, as he read you the Classics in animated voices that had you completely enchanted. He made sparks fly from the tip of his wand, bright colours that your little eyes couldn’t quite get enough of.

You loved being a wizard, were eternally grateful for the world you lived in and the undeniable awe of it all. But words, books, literature – they were enough magic for you, took you to places you could only ever dream to visit, and had you feeling such all-consuming emotions that sometimes, you wondered if you’d ever make it to the end of the page, or chapter, or book. 

“Oi– your Mum’s put out dinner, she’s calling you downstairs,” he called through the thick wood of your door. 

Sirius didn’t know why he was nervous. It was you, the little girl he’d watched grow up and had grown up with. But if the short glance he’d gotten of your stomping person as you huffed up the stairs was any indicated, you were by no means little anymore. 

Funny what a few years can do to a person, huh. 

He nudged it open when you didn’t respond, only to find you slumped across your bed, glaring, silently, at the ceiling and the pale-orange light emanating from the lamp on your bedside table.

You certainly looked different– older, possibly? He couldn’t quite place what had changed, only that he knew something had. In the way you dressed, styled your hair, held yourself. Even the look of your room– no longer plastered in butterflies and pink roses, but instead painted a burnt umber and with tapestries and muggle band posters hanging across every wall. A stack of vinyls were shoved into one side of your room, along with piles and piles of books, some old and missing a few pages, while others were untouched. 

You heard the door click open, sitting up on your elbows to see a smirking Sirius, oozing an annoying amount of confidence, and leaning against your doorframe. 

Something in your chest stumbled almost immediately. He looked the same, behaved the same as well. Still the Sirius that had left to see the world, leaving the rest of you behind. Though, he might’ve managed to actually tan, now that you really looked at him, imagining the broad planes of his shoulders, hidden by a thin linen button up, were more sun-kissed than milky-pale now. 

Except you refused to even entertain the thought. You were not thinking of him or his skin or his bare chest or--

“What’s with the face?” you asked, already knowing you’ll regret the answer.

“Was that meant to be a greeting?” His eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Hi Sirius-- what’s with the face?” you answered, again, between clenched teeth. 

“Nice pair of panties you got on there, bright pink, are they?” he nodded at your thighs, only just clocking that maybe having your legs spread so far apart when you’re wearing a skirt wasn’t the best idea.

Your thighs snapped shut just as Sirius was snickering behind his fist. “So, dinner?” he asked again, stepping into your room and letting the door shut behind him.

“Go to hell.”

“See, that sounds a little inconvenient, and a lot hot– humidity isn’t great for the hair, or skin. Anyway, I’ve just been around the world and found no place called Hell so not sure what to say, little Potter.” You hadn’t missed his sarcastic rambles, even though you were already struggling to hide the smile taking over your face as you looked anywhere but at him. “I tried, I really did, just for you.”

Your stomach dipped at that, a wave pulling you under-- for you. 

“Buuuut– you know what I absolutely adore? Your mother’s cooking, and I haven’t had it in a while, so up ya’ get,” he insisted, tugging you up by your forearms until you were pressed against his front, not a sliver of space between the two of you. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You could feel him everywhere. Hot skin against your bare arms, the itchy wool of his jumper, if you concentrated a little more, the hard expanse of his chest against yours. He must have felt it too because he released you like you were fire and he a mere mortal, brows pinching in confusion and something else, looking at you like you were a question he couldn’t quite find the answer to. 

It was entirely foreign, the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach– it surely hadn’t been there before he’d left. You looked, or gawked, more like, at the very man you detested with every ounce of your being, but also the very man you were about to spend almost every hour of every day, for the rest of the Summer, with.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, as if realising the same thing as you now that you were stood in front of him. Suddenly, he understood what the whole shouting match must have been about, and up until a few moments ago, he might have disagreed with you entirely.

Now, though? He wasn’t sure what he felt.

“Ditto,” you breathed back. You pushed past him after staring for a second too long, hurrying on socked feet to the dining room downstairs, and not bothering to check if he was following. 

The quiet jingle of the bell tickled your ears as you opened the door to the bookshop, dust immediately invading your senses as you fought back a harsh cough. Your Dad pushed in front of you, forcing the door to stay open by propping a stack of intimidatingly large books in front of it. You laughed silently to yourself, noting how they were all Dickens (he hated Dickens, said his novels were disturbingly boring and unnecessarily detailed). 

You could only agree, never having had the courage to pick up any of those enormous beasts yourself. 

“So, you can dust a little, and sweep the floor, before we open. Count the money in the till, as well, that’s very important,” he noted off, and you suddenly wish you had a pen and a pad of paper to write it all down. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been helping out at the shop since when you were younger, but this was the first time you’d been granted the responsibility of having it all to yourself (minus the inconvenience that was Sirius Black). 

You were an adult now (barely, but that was a technicality)– loved to point it out any chance you got, and it meant that your Dad trusted you enough to not hover over your shoulder every time you took a shift. He was working fewer hours, though now, none, as he wanted to finish the novel he’d been writing for the past decade after melodramatically announcing at the dinner table that “It’s time!” 

You weren’t sure what that exactly meant, but you weren’t about to argue with the man paying you an overly generous ten pounds an hour. 

You didn’t need the money for yourself, what with still living at your parent’s house, but you wanted to contribute to the house and expenses and what no, even if it was a minuscule sum. 

“Another thing,” he added, stopping, rather abruptly, in front of you, voice worryingly grave as he placed his large palms over either of your shoulders. “Please,” he begged, brows dipping, “don’t fight with Sirius in front of the customers.”

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already after me,” you objected, pulling back from his usually comforting hold and pulling the broom out from behind the counter. His hands fell defeatedly against his sides as he sighed, standing in your way before you could mope yourself into a tizzy before the work day had even started. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he ensured, pulling you in for a tight embrace. “You know you’re my number one, sweetheart. Just don’t like seeing you so upset.”

James always teased you for being your Father’s favourite, and you’d never argue, relishing in his pointed fingers and sneering words, because it was true– there was something between you and your Father, an understanding that no one else had clued in on. He eased your worries like no one else could, smoothed irked creases across your face, replacing them with belly-hurting laughter lines and a grin so wide, you were worried it would fall off your face.

Anyway, James was the same with your Mum. You found her difficult to communicate with, what with her being as hot-heated as you were, so as much as you and your Dad got along, you butted heads with your Mum just as much. “It’s ‘cause you two are so similar, like twins, I tell you!” But it did little to calm your nerves around her, or stoke the flames of anger you so often felt. 

You were about to respond, ready to tell your Dad just how much you loved him, when someone crashed through the door, slamming into the counter you were standing behind. You turned, eyes connecting with your (late) colleague. He looked utterly windswept, as if he’d run – or been chased – the whole way there. 

“You okay, son?” your Dad asked, worry shifting from you to the panting, bent-over Sirius. 

“Me? Oh– peachy, just– peachy,” he answered between heavy breaths, waving off his doting hands. “Sorry I’m late, got a little carried away with something and lost track of time.”

You were conscious of how your Dad didn’t offer Sirius the same advice, to not pick a fight or argue or whatever it was the two of you did, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he had everyone charmed. So you busied yourself behind the till, doing as you were instructed and counting the money, writing down the number of each of the bills on a notepad you pulled from the drawer at your waist. 

Your Dad left soon after, turning the closed sign out front to open as he wished you, and Sirius, good luck. 

“Guess it’s just the two of us, little Potter,” Sirius pointed out, already sounding bored as he fell into a stool at your side. He leaned his head against his arm, stretching it from side to side as he groaned at his tense muscles.

You didn’t mean to stare, swore it wasn’t something you’d let become a habit, but your gaze immediately travelled to the exposed skin of his neck, zeroing in on the trail of newly-formed purple bruises  down the side. You snorted, shaking your head at him, slamming the money compartment shut a little too aggressively so that it caught Sirius’ attention. He recognised your expression to be something close to amusement, jabbing you in your side until you were scowling and slapping his fingers away.

“What’s wrong with you– you’re acting like a fucking child,” you admonished, moving out of reach and resting a hand on your hip. 

“Why’d you make that face?” he asked instead of answering your question, nodding at you like it was you who had started it.

“It’s nothing,” you went with, hearing your Father’s words echoing in your mind from just moments ago. You needed to diffuse the situation before you really got mad, because past that point, you weren’t responsible for what you said– or did. 

So you ventured into the aisles of books, a curious Sirius on your heels, following you like a lost, yapping puppy. “If it’s nothing then why are you running away?” he pushed back.

You ignored him pointedly, stopping to stack a few books and dust along the shelves. No one had come in yet, still too early in the morning for any tourists to stumble upon your admittedly quaint but bursting shop. 

The sunlight barely filtered past the dense collection of books and mahogany shelves that lined the walls, but the windows stretched to the tall ceilings, and if you went up the spiralling staircase at the centre of the store, you’d find yourself in a cosy loft space, bathed in gold and stuffed with arm chairs and sofas for people to sit and read in. 

It was your favourite part of the store, and you were seriously debating hiding up there on your first day, just to get away from the walking-plague that followed you. 

“Come on– tell me,” he whined, standing too close for your liking. You side-stepped away, brushing a cloth against the worn covers of the Mystery section. He followed suit, returning to his previous position, and this time, you had no way out with the wall of books you’d met. 

You turned, facing him and finally acknowledged his presence. “You lied,” you stated matter-of-factly, loving that you actually had the upper-hand with him. As much as you prided yourself with being quick-witted, Sirius always seemed to find a way to stay on-top.

“Gonna have to give me something more than that, darling. Lied about what?” he countered, raising an eyebrow at you. 

It took everything in you to ignore the pet name, something more endearing hidden under it that you had never noticed before, and those pesky butterflies returned to bug about in your gut. 

Fucking moths, you groaned internally. 

“You said you were busy and lost track of time. But those bites across your neck say otherwise,” you stared pointedly at the affected area now, though it was covered by his hair in this position. His hand flew to his neck, as if only just realising they were on display.

“That’s none of your business Potter,” he countered, now irritated and still trying to hide the hickies on his neck with only his palm. 

“It actually is my business when you’re both late to your job and lying to my Father,” you threw back, shoving forward and relishing in his slight stumble back– as if he hadn’t yet noticed the two of you were so so close. 

“You can’t–” his eyes were wide, worried, as he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to meet his gaze, “You can’t tell him. He’ll be so disappointed and I can’t–”

Now it was your turn to frown over the devastation so wrought over his face. And if you two were anyone else, you might’ve let it go. Might’ve– 

“Well tough shit, Black. You’re an adult, now. This is the real world we’re talking about. Not whatever fantasy you’ve been away in for the past two years. And here, in the real world–” you gestured around yourself, “--actions have consequences. You slutting it up on the night before your first day at your new job isn’t much of an excuse, now is it?”

And really, you deserved it, now that you thought back. His anger was reasonable and your need to poke straight through his ribcage, wrap your fist around his heart and squeeze tight, was not. 

“Oh, fuck you, Potter!” he bit out. “You’re accusing me of not acting like an adult when you literally still live at home! Not to mention you can’t have a decent conversation with anyone without throwing the most childish temper tantrum known to man. I might be slutting it up, as you’ve put it, but at least I’m getting some,” he was breathing hard now, and the more he spoke the more the anger burned away, but his words wouldn’t stop. In fact, you think you could see him cringe, in pain or guilt or some nervous tick, as he delivered the final blow. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so miserable to be around all the time, someone might actually give it to you too.”

It didn’t take long for you to react. Nor did it take long for your hand to fly up and connect with his cheek, hard and final. He wasn’t even surprised, had seen it coming a mile way, maybe even from his first “fuck you”. Because he knew he deserved it and he remembered now why he had left two years ago. Sure, it wasn’t all you. There’d been others who had irked him to the point of wanting a fresh start. And even then, it wasn’t that you were one of those people– you just would get him so riled up, to the point where he could no longer trust the words coming out of his mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered then, fighting the urge to look away from your glassy stare. “I’m sorry, Potter. You know I don’t mean it.”

And deep down inside, you did know. You knew you both brought out the worst in each other. Only, you could never figure out why that was. Why you wanted to hurl insults and slap him silly for every comment or look or stupid way he’d string together the most perfect sentence and his irritating eyes and mouth and–

“Excuse me? Is anyone here?” 

You inhaled, all sudden, as if only just realising what you had done (or what you had thought). You brushed past him without a word, needing, more than ever, to put some space between the two of you. If not for your anger then for whatever pesky emotion was seeping through your cracks.

You were (reluctantly) pulled from wherever your thoughts had been racing to as you called into the store, “Just one moment!”

You didn’t see it, not then – too focused on keeping one foot in front of the other as you made your way back, escaping to the front of the shop, faking a polite smile as you greeted the awaiting customer– but Sirius collapsed, defeated, into the wall the moment you walked away. 

Something was telling him that if he hadn’t just torn your heart to shreds with a string of insults then he might have done it some other way– some other way that might have left him in trouble with James, Lily and your parents for an entirely different set of reasons. 

‘Cause Jesus Christ– he wanted to be the one to give you what you needed. Or rather, he needed to, desperately. And two years away hadn’t altered the line between the two of you from enemies to something more. 

And Sirius truly debated if this was the moment for him to get back onto a train to anywhere you were not. It didn’t matter if he had no money or nowhere to be, but if it meant he could avoid killing you with words or kissing your face off– he couldn’t quite see a way out of his predicament. 

James would kill him. As would your parents. And Lily– God, you prayed Lily never found out. She’d serve his head up on a platter and laugh while she did it. She was awfully protective of you, always on your side when you bickered with him. If anything, you loved her even more for it, having always noticed how you frowned a little deeper, detached a little more from yourself, whenever your parents favoured him in an argument.

“Sirius!” you shouted again, no longer faking your emotions but rather genuinely just exasperated by him once more. 

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” He managed to not get lost in the labyrinth of books, and found you by the travel section, chatting good-naturedly with a blonde in a tight dress.

“How can I help, doll?” he asked the blonde in question. His one tactic for almost every conundrum he’d ended up in was avoidance. And bloody hell was he good at it. 

He smiled at her, the customer, doing little to hide his admiration for the legs she had on display. She flushed a pretty pink, averting her gaze, lip between her teeth. Bingo! 

“Christ, you’re disgusting,” you muttered, mouth pouting and quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Only for you, sweetheart, only for you,” he bit back, not wanting the currently oblivious customer clue in on their conversation. “So, how can I help?”

“She needs that book–” you pointed to the top shelf, well out of reach. “--the green spine that says Amsterdam, but I can’t reach it and the step ladder is too heavy.”

“Alas! Only ever needed for my body, it seems,” he moaned with an irritating amount of flourish. 

“Whatever it takes to get the book down– do what you must, Black.” You patted his chest reassuringly, taking your spot, once again, behind the cash register.  

“So– planning a trip are you?” Sirius asked in between excessive displays of strength as he hauled the bulky ladder with a single hand. You glared at the girl as she swooned at him, wanting, rather unreasonably, for her to combust right where she stood.

But that was a ridiculous thought to begin with. You could barely stand to be even within a metre’s distance of the guy, let alone on the receiving end of his affections. You were tired, emotional and dehydrated. Must be. Though a glance at the clock had you realising it had barely been an hour since your day had started. 

So, maybe just emotional and dehydrated. 

“I’m going to get a coffee from across the street,” you announced, slugging your tote bag onto your shoulder as you walked past the preoccupied pair. Not waiting for a response, you stepped out into the early morning sun, frowning, for once, at the glare in your eyes and not the irritant you’d left behind. 

It was easier to refer to him as something pesky, infectious, fungus-like even, rather than the only person who knew how to break your heart (and despite your somewhat impenetrable facade, you let him do just that every time).

please please PLEASE reblog & leave some feedback <3 i'll boop you if you do x

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[hispg]

Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc:2.9k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one-sided love, affairs, (I'll put more once things start to progress).

Prologue | 1 | 2 |

Chapter 2: Presence

"I suppose it's important, Prince." You say softly, straightening his epaulette, while Leon looked at himself in the mirror.

Today he was preparing for another of those tiresome meetings between royalty and merchants. One more of the king's deals had gone through.

He nods, giving you his attention, "Yes, indeed. My father wants me to learn about these businesses before I become king."

You didn't know if you'd heard too much or something, but he seemed genuinely overwhelmed and fatigued by it all.

"If it's any consolation, I'm cheering you on." You say in a sweet smile, giving it one last adjust on his epaulette, leaving it suitably refined.

The sun lit up the room, the gentle light brightening every corner of the room. Just as it illuminated your gentle, sweet features, the way you smiled at him. Or even the way you made a point of checking if he needed help with anything else.

So he looked at you with those sparkling blue eyes, giving you the attention you'd been waiting for for a few minutes.

"Thank you for your words, princess." Despite the cordiality, you felt that there was still a distance, which was a shame.

Even though you had already been in the castle for a few days, the formalities still continued: 'Prince', 'Princess', or even 'Your Highness'. Never by your first names, or by any other name. It might sound silly, but it was a reminder that this treatment would continue for a long time.

He was still so formal and serious with you, even though you had already been living together for a few days. And there was no sign of him changing, but maybe it was too soon, maybe you had to wait.

Or maybe you were just daydreaming.

Taking a final look at himself, and then taking the opportunity to look you up and down. He couldn't deny the way you were always well dressed. You were always so kind to him, always treated him well even when he was distant from you.

He'd be lying if he didn't say that was an admirable quality in you.

So elegant, charming even. As much as he tried not to care, he loved the smell of your cologne. Something soft that reminded him of wild roses.

He was so captivated by looking at the ornaments that adorned your neck that he couldn't help but inhale your fragrance once more, letting the soft scent that surrounded you enter his nostrils, making him feel the sweetness once more.

"You look elegant, prince." You encouraged him, wrapping your arm around his as he began to take small steps towards the door.

He gives you a simple smile, leading you through the bustling corridors with the various workers. Everyone was looking at the two of you, and whispers could be heard here and there.

You knew that in this meeting your presence was only decorative, just like all the other spouses of the other seniors who would be there. Not that it bothered you, since it could be considered a relief if you spent more time around Leon. Even if it was an obligation.

The walk was as silent as ever, only polite smiles were exchanged between you and Leon, nothing too intimate. Leon was completely uncompromising with you, if you were being sincere he barely noticed you when you were that close.

He would only do so if he was in a good mood, which wasn't very often since he was always grumpy. And being close to you often made his mood worse.

However, you could see that he was trying, but the eyes don't lie. It wasn't hard to disguise the fact that he wasn't so much fond of you. Maybe it was just an annoyance and that would change with time, at least that's what you hoped.

It only took a few minutes for the two of you to reach the main hall, where you were greeted by all kinds of important guests. Even some you hadn't even seen in person.

Nothing more than the usual courtesies, pleasantries about the upcoming wedding and the union of the kingdoms, which was in fact the most important thing. In other words, what had made the whole situation happen.

After the proper introductions, you and Leon, along with the other guests, went to the room where the meeting was to take place, a spacious place that had been properly prepared for the occasion.

Soon the meeting began, with nothing but the usual fallacies and promises of the Kingdom's future prosperity.

Nothing you and Leon hadn't heard before, but you both knew that this was nothing more than a reinforcement of the future marriage.

That's because Leon's father always looked at him as he spoke, always made a point of leaving the word to his son every chance he got. He wanted to show his son's honor and pride

He needed to show all this to everyone present.

And even though Leon didn't like being the center of attention, he couldn't say no to his father, because unfortunately he was still following his father's orders.

After a few incessant hours, the meeting ended, with a certain exhaustion on the part of those present. After the farewells, which also seemed never-ending, you two headed down the corridors, approaching the stairs to go to your chambers.

As you walked slowly, you noticed the tired look on Leon's face, as he appeared to be completely drained.

"You did well, prince." You said in a sweet whisper, giving him an approving smile.

And then that was enough for him to look at you, giving you a brief smile, but one that never failed to make your heart flutter.

"Your presence was important, Your Highness." These could have been simple words, but you felt your knees weaken with them.

You chuckled, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks.

Just as you were about to go upstairs, Leon's father called out to him from a distance, apparently wanting to talk to him about something personal.

You only heard a sigh come from Leon's lips, who then left you on the stairs to go on your way.

"I'll see you at dinner time." He says calmly, as he takes your covered hand and kisses the back of it. This time letting his lips linger there a little longer.

You get giddy every time he does that, your mind gets all messed up just feeling his lips like that.

With a charming smile, he bids you a courteous farewell and heads off in the direction of his father.

As soon as you walked the long stairs, you went straight to your bedroom, ready for a warm, comfortable bath before dinner.

But before you entered your room, something caught your eye. One of the maids was carrying a bouquet of flowers to Leon's room, and if you were being honest, the maid was in quite a hurry to carry the flowers.

From the way she was trying to sneak into Leon's room to put the flowers there, you could tell it was suspicious at best.

So you decided to go after the girl, to ask what she was doing. Slowly you approached, taking care not to alarm the woman or even make a fuss about it.

But even so, the young woman seemed to notice you, and unconsciously hid the bouquet behind her back in a clumsy way, as if to prevent you from seeing anything.

"Your Highness…" She stammered, trying to keep her composure and not get so nervous. Which failed if you were being honest.

You could see the apprehension in her wide eyes, just as her hands were shaking. What was so special about those flowers?

You nod, looking at her gently, "I imagine you're quite busy. You're in such a hurry."

You speak softly, just to level the waters, and even to appear unpretentious. She stuttered, only affirming with her head that she was in a hurry, not even trying to get into Leon's room.

"I… I was just passing by. I need to take these." She says, holding the flowers tightly, still in the same failed attempt to hide them from you.

You were about to ask one more question, but your eyes focused on a small piece of paper that had fallen to the floor, and looking at it you could tell it was a letter.

It wasn't long before you bent down and picked it up, holding it between your fingers. You didn't dare read it yet, because you already knew what it was about.

"Your Highness, this,—" You interrupt her discreetly, straightening your posture.

"I'm your highness, I don't suppose you have to hide anything from me," you then whispered, moving closer and standing in a spot where only you and she could hear each other, "Unless you're doing something wrong."

You didn't want to sound authoritative, but you just wanted to show a little sovereignty. You weren't going to let it go, under your nose was already too much.

"No, no princess." She says dimly, starting to get even more freaked out.

You didn't say much longer, your anxiety to read what was written on that letter was slowly eating away at you, and you had an overwhelming desire to find out what was there.

"Allow me." You whisper, gently taking the flowers from her hand. Carrying the bouquet in your arms.

Fresh lilies, just picked. They were kind of purplish in color, and smelled amazing. They were definitely beautiful.

The maid even tried to protest, but you dismissed her with a wave of your hand, heading for Leon's chambers. You soon entered the room, which was honestly not new to you, and you quickly closed the door behind you.

Once the silence hung in the air, you took a deep breath, looking at the flowers and the letter in your hand. And so you decided to look for a vase to put the delicate lilies in, and it wasn't hard to find, given the variety of things in Leon's room.

As soon as you placed the vase with the flowers next to Leon's bed, you decided it was time to read the letter in your hands.

The paper was all decorated, with beautiful calligraphy, as well as a few little hearts here and there. Certainly the kind of letter that lovers would exchange.

'Your favorites, handpicked. To the sweet prince, Leon. -A

You knew that this was supposed to be something intimate and that you shouldn't even be reading it, but even though it was such a subtle message, it still showed how close these two were.

Your lips trembled as you felt your vision blur. How complicated were things getting?

You even tried to push these thoughts away, thinking that maybe you were just thinking too much. But how could you do that?

How were you supposed to act as his second choice, even though you were the woman he was going to marry?

You froze once all your thoughts stopped and focused on the voice that called out to you from across the room.

"Your Highness? What are you doing here?" Leon's tone was low, as if he was completely serious and sharp with you.

You turned around, taking a deep breath and controlling your emotions, giving the sweetest, most polite smile you could manage at that moment.

"They're for you, prince." You say with a smile, as if you weren't aware of anything. The flowers weren't the first thing he focused on.

At the same moment you saw the color fade from his face, it became pale, almost the color of paper. For a split second you saw an expression of fear and surprise come over him.

His eyes widened and he took a small step towards you, but stopped at the same moment. You could even see his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed dryly, his body stiffening.

Did he really think he was hiding this secret well? How innocent it would be to think so. If the rest of the kingdom knew, why shouldn't you?

He wasn't very good at disguising it, in fact. What was he supposed to say? Wasn't it too obvious? Surely you wouldn't miss it, at least you already knew what it was about.

You moved closer to the flowers that you yourself had put in a vase, bringing your nose closer so that you could smell the lilies.

"They smell good, whoever sent it, they have great taste." You say calmly, arranging the flowers in the vase once again.

You could feel your hands starting to shake slightly, something about what you were doing didn't feel right.

But what else could you do? Maybe it was daring, but you couldn't help yourself.

Nobody liked being cheated on.

He opened his mouth for a few seconds, thinking of anything he could say.

But all that came out was a weak, 'Oh'. Before he approached you and took a look at the flowers that were there.

His fingertip brushed lightly against one of the flowers, looking at them with a certain tenderness. He obviously knew who it was from, or rather, who had sent him these flowers.

It was clearer than day.

"My mother probably sent one of the maids to buy these fresh flowers." He manages to stutter after a while, unable to face you fully.

His mother? What a lame excuse, you think.

You take a few more steps across the room, the sound of your heels echoing through the large room. You didn't even make a point of hiding the suspicious expression forming on your face.

You were quick to grab the small letter before he saw it, before he had even arrived in the room. You already knew, and you also knew that he wouldn't admit it.

However, you had proof in your hands, certainly an affair outside of the marriage relationship would not go down well with royalty, even more so coming from a renowned prince like him.

You simply had the perfect weapon in your hands, ready to be used any time you needed it. Not that you were going to do it now, you didn't even want to have to do it at some point.

However, you did have something useful in case you needed it. You didn't want to take any rash action that you might regret.

"I'll have those flowers put somewhere else,—" You interrupted him, looking at him with a gentle, sweet smile, as if you weren't tearing up inside.

"No need, I think it looks nice here." You murmured, taking the opportunity to smell the sweet scent of the flowers once again

The tension was palpable, the heavy atmosphere that soon formed in that room. Every gesture showed the unease that had formed, your lips trembled and you pressed them tightly together so as not to let anything show

But he noticed, he noticed the way your fists were clenched and that you were trembling slightly, as well as the drop of water forming in the corner of your eyes.

He knew that you might have suspected something, but what could he do? There was nothing he could say or do that would comfort you in any way.

It was as cruel for you as it was for him.

You exchanged silent but strangely meaningful glances, as if you were playing a game of chess.

The flowers and the letter became symbols of a game of appearances, where every gesture hid secrets that could dismantle the façade of a royal marriage.

And you both knew it, after all it was a game that only two could play, and you were both learning and understanding how this game would work.

It was certainly even worse in practice, but there was nothing you could do about it. Even more so, Leon was looking at the flowers in a somewhat puzzled way, but at the same time there was a certain gleam in his eye.

He couldn't hide that body language. Not even if he tried.

"If you wish, the flowers stay." He broke the silence, staring at you with that cold, penetrating gaze that was so mesmerizing.

You nodded, making a point of putting the flowers on the shelf next to his bed, acting as if you weren't interested or uncommitted to the whole thing.

God, you felt yourself breaking every time you looked at the petals, at the smell that wafted through the room.

"If the prince will excuse me, I'll go to my chambers." You said with the same sweet smile, bowing to him and leaving his room.

All you had in your ears was the sound of your heels clacking against the floor as you moved lightly to your own room.

Leon didn't say a word, he didn't even walk you to your usual bedroom door. You didn't know if it was anger or surprise, perhaps because he hadn't imagined that you would act so calmly.

Even though he could sense that you were hurt.

In the end, appearances would be kept up, even if the night had been stormy. One step at a time, day after day.

There was no such thing as a sad day in royalty, so you could already prepare your smile for the next day.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #re leon #resident evil leon

[lov3m3darling]

Apple of my Eye (Obsessed!Wally Darling x Short!Reader) Pt. 2

Heyyy 😊 So I'm really glad a lot of you seem to like what I'm doing here. You're all very kind ❤️

I woke up feeling pretty good today so I figured I'd be at least a little productive and write another part ✨️ How long should this be?? I'm totally down to make this a long fic if ya'll would like that. I would still write oneshots and headcannons in between chapters of course 🤗

Idk, lemme know

!!!(TW: obsessive behaviors, eye imagery, slight blood/injury, mention of a kn*fe)!!!

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Wally spent that evening thinking of nothing but you.

Your smile, your eyes, your laugh...

It was like his world finally had color again. He imagined the date vividly...bringing you flowers when he arrived at your door, showing you around town while you held his arm, picking a nice grassy spot in the shade for your picnic.

Would you dress up just for him? Would he hear your charming laugh when he made jokes? Could he...kiss you?

Wally covered his blushing face at the idea, and Home rolled their eyes, creaking mockingly.

Wally sat up from where he was laying across his chair.

"You don't understand, Home! (Y/n) is...they're so..."

He tried to describe you, but could only manage a happy, dreamy sigh. Suddenly, he heard a record player start up.

A love song.

"HOME!!" Wally exclaimed, his face now entirely red. Home knocked quietly, almost like a sly snicker. Wally sighed again.

"Oh, but...I could just imagine asking them to dance with me to a song like this. Wouldn't they look divine? ...Home, what on earth is wrong with me?"

The music stopped, and Home creaked.

"Lovesick? What are you talking about? I'm not sick, I feel fit as a fritter!"

Home's eyes rolled yet again, and the front door swung open with a squeak.

"You're right. Frank can explain it to me, I'm sure. He's very smart!"

With that, Wally set out towards Frank's house.

Meanwhile, you were in your own house, fussing over your clothing options. Clothes were strewn across your otherwise tidy bedroom as you dug through your closet and rejected nearly every article of clothing you owned.

But then, hanging at the very back, you spotted the miracle you were hoping for!

---------------------------------------------

(Option 1: a multicolored striped blazer and pants combo with a white dress shirt underneath and some red sneakers to keep it from being TOO dressy!)

(Option 2: a white, knee-length dress with multicolored polka-dots and a pair of red ballet flats. and for a cute little accessory, some red apple earrings!)

(...orrrrr any combo of the two! Up to you! Doesn't really matter, I just wanted to give some visuals here. Reminder: ya dress like a cartoon character because ya ARE one!)

---------------------------------------------

Oh, it was perfect! You'd been saving this outfit for a special occasion, and if a date wasn't the perfect situation, you didn't know what was!

You carefully hung it up for tomorrow, then made your way to the kitchen to pack the picnic basket.

As you sliced up an apple, you couldn't help but think about Wally. You'd only just met him that morning, and yet you already had a massive crush on the guy.

But who could blame you? There was just something so charming about him. And strangely suave, too. He seemed like the type of guy to bring you flowers and kiss your hand...a gentleman.

"Ow! Oh dear.."

Maybe cutting an apple wasn't the best time to be daydreaming...

"Tsk..."

You sighed, setting the knife down to go grab a bandage for the small cut on your finger.

But suddenly, there was a panicked knock on your door.

"Who in the world..?"

You settled for wrapping your finger in a tissue, and went to answer the door.

Wally stood, wide-eyed, on your stoop. He seemed worried.

"(Y-Y/n) I was walking by and heard you yelp!"

Your face felt a little hot. You didn't realize you'd been so loud...

"Oh, I'm sorry to worry you but I'm alright. I was slicing an apple for our picnic and...well...I suppose my mind was somewhere else. And silly me, I cut my finger a little..."

Wally's eyes shifted past you and looked at the knife on the counter, and his pupils grew and shrank again in a matter of just a second. You barely noticed.

"Thank goodness, I thought something terrible had happened. I don't know what I'd do if-...ah, would you like me to help you? I have bandages at Home.."

You were about to decline, when you realized something. You didn't have any of that stuff! You'd only just moved, after all.

So, you had to agree and let Wally lead you to his house.

Home's eyes fixed on you when they spotted you approaching with Wally. The door opened, but the squeak it made sounded like a question.

"(Y/n) is coming in for a moment so I can tend to the cut on their finger, if that's alright"

Home said nothing else, but the door remained open, so Wally nodded and brought you inside.

He had you sit on the couch while he retrieved a box of bandages and a cotton ball soaked in something that smelled like a hospital.

Carefully, he removed and threw away the tissue you'd wrapped around it, and looked it over. A tiny drop of blood trickled out and you winced, feeling like a little kid with a scraped knee again.

But Wally just smiled and brought your hand to his lips, gently licking away the drop as he gazed up at you lovingly. His pupils grew just a little, and you felt as if you would combust at any moment.

Wally chuckled and cleaned the cut with the cotton ball before wrapping a blue bandage around your finger and giving it a kiss.

"You've turned red, (y/n). Feeling alright~?"

"I-I don't...w-why did you...?"

He laughed.

"You're so silly, (y/n). It had to be wiped away, what was I supposed to do?"

You couldn't answer him. Your face was entirely too flushed and any nervous jumble of words your brain could think up just wouldn't come out no matter how hard you tried.

"Hey, I know! I'll sign your bandage. People do that with casts, I think! Barnaby says it helps the person feel better faster"

Suddenly, he was back to normal. Acting just as he did when you first met him.

Wally left the room for a moment and returned with a red crayon. He took your hand and gently wrote his name and a smiley face on the bandage before helping you up from the couch. He smiled at you.

"How's that? Does it feel better?"

"M-Much better. Thank you, Wally.."

You excused yourself so you could continue to get ready for tomorrow, and left, waving to Home as you went.

You shut the door to your own house and slid down it, finally being able to breathe and think.

What WAS that?! He licked your cut! Why?!

After a few deep breaths, you collected yourself and stood up, returning to the kitchen. You went to pick the knife back up, only to realize the blade had snapped off of the handle and was in several pieces...

"How did that happen..?" you wondered aloud. For some reason, looking at it gave you a nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach and you hastily threw it away.

As you did, you glanced at the bandage on your finger again. You weren't sure where the thought came from, but his name written on it almost felt like a claim over you more than a nice gesture.

And...why were you strangely okay with that...?

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Too much? 😅 That was a little intense, I know. But I promised yandere, and I keep my promises. Of course it's never gonna be a downright lemon 🍋 🚫 but who says it cant be just a liiiiiittle spicy? Just a dash of pepper, am I right?

Anyways, hope this was good 😊 more to come!

#wally darling #welcome home #welcome home fanfic #yandere welcome home #yandere wally darling #wally darling fanfic #obsessive wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally x reader #wally darling x you

[red-flag-lover]

Father Giovanni x F!reader (Soulmate Au)

Chapter 1

Reader's POV:

They said everyone has a soulmate—someone who would connect with your soul. Perfectly made for you, someone who will fill the void in your heart. In our world, cards will appear when you turn 18. But unlike everyone else, when I turned 16, a card appeared out of thin air. 

Ms. L/n, Ms. L/n!

I was brought back to reality when the professor screamed my name, barely dodging the book she threw at me. I'm just thankful for my reflexes; I don't have to sport any newly acquired bruises.

"DARN-" I held myself back from cursing that ugly professor; who knows what she would punish me with this time if I finished my curse at her—maybe a weeklong detention, community service, or, for worse, research about those creepy totems and practices?

"If you're just going to daydream in my class, get out of here; I don't need students like you!" The old maiden's voice resonated around our classroom. As I was about to leave the classroom since I had already studied about this topic and I was advanced in my class, she called me once again. "Before you leave, Ms. L/n, why don't you answer this question that any 1st grader would be able to answer. What is research design? "If you can't answer that easy question, feel free to drop out of this class."

That's it?  That's her easy question; her question doesn't even give me a hard time; as I said, this subject is a child's play for me. "Well, research design is the blueprint of your research." Descriptive, correlational, experimental, and diagnostic designs are the four types of research designs. Your research design depends on the type of research you're going to do. If you're going to describe the relation of your study to something, you're going to use correlational. And if your research is scientific, use experimental methods. "That's all, it's really hard for me to answer your question; you caught me off guard, anyway, may I go now?" I answered her question with full confidence while adding a touch of sarcasm at the end. I can see my friend, Javi, clapping her hands as I walk out of that living hell known as the classroom. 

After that incident, I go to the cafe nearby since I don't have any class for the next 2 hours. A tall, lean, and a bit muscular man bumped into me. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for the fall, but it never came. But then I felt two strong yet gentle arms wrapping around my waist and arms, saving me from a certain bruise and embarrassment. 

It felt like forever when I stared at his pitch-black eyes. My notes on the ground, long forgotten as I observe his features, He's 6 feet tall; he has perfectly symmetrical facial features, alluring lips, and bold, fiery eyes. Everything about this man is perfect. I feel like he's a part of me, yet I can't describe that feeling. Butterflies flutter at my stomach as I stare deeper into his mesmerizing eyes. I unmistakably feel comfort and safety for the first time. His touch was as comforting as the feeling when you sit in front of your fireplace while drinking your favorite drink. At the contact of our skin, I felt a pleasurable electricity running into our bodies. It's addicting, and it's ineffable. 

"Look at where you're going, miss; you might bump into someone not as kind and good-looking as me," the guy casually smirked at me. I deadpanned at his words; scratch those things I felt for him—this guy is a jerk. "Excuse me?!  You're the one who bumped into me. "And look at what happened to my notes; it's wrecked now; I have to rewrite this again, and you won't even apologize!" He just stared at me like I had grown another head. I was about to speak again when our school's dean called him. Out of irritation, I quickly grabbed my notes and went to the cafe in hopes of appeasing my anger. I looked back again and saw him and our principal talking; he waved back at me with his charming yet irritating smile. I think his name is Giovanni; I heard the Dean call him that. Giovanni, what a dazzling name, yet that guy is a total jerk. And who wears a priest outfit typically for his age? We're just the same age, I think. He's peculiar, but in a good way.

Two hours later, a good cup of coffee really lightened my mood. I am now talking to our school's dean; apparently, my "great" professor made up a whole different story in which I am the bad guy and she's the victim. And now I have to suffer while researching the history of Jeju Island exorcism practices. Out of all things I loathe the most, it's unraveling history. Why would I bother digging up information about the past that has already happened and cannot be changed when you have your future in front of you, where everything can be good or bad? It just depends on how you play this game called life. 

"Ms. L/n, as a punishment for your behavior, we expect you to conduct research about exorcism culture on Jeju Island, and it's already vacation, so you have to spend your vacation at a church, where you can freely do your research. Don't worry, our school will handle the expenses, even though your family can pay for your expenses as you're the daughter of the greatest heart surgeon in Korea and your dad is a businessman. "Good luck on your trip, Ms. L/n, and please obey your guide." He told me in a calm manner, and I could clearly see the pity in his eyes. "It's not my fault, sir, why do I have to do that research? Just assign me to anything not involving history." I begged him not to assign me that case. If I had to kneel in front of him, I would, but it would only bring shame to my name. "It's requested by your professor, and we have to agree to not cause any trouble, and please stay here, Ms. L/N, while waiting for your guide priest." I slumped in the chair, clearly defeated. 

A door caught my attention; the Dean must have left the door open. Peeking at the door wouldn't hurt anybody, right? I carefully looked inside and saw lots of boxes; I think it's a storage room. Oh! I can see the trophy I won for our school. As I was bending over to pick up a book on the floor, someone scared the living shite out of me. "Boo!"  I squealed and slapped the guy in his arms, and when I looked at him, it was the same guy who bumped into me earlier. "Are you crazy?" You shouldn't frighten people, especially if you don't know them. "What if I have a condition wherein I can't be frightened or feel nervous? If I die, what will you do?" I scolded him for scaring me, and he just scoffed at me. "As far as I can see, you're perfectly fine." "And besides, peeking into someone's room is inappropriate," he bantered at me. "Oh, as far as I know, it's also inappropriate for someone to shock you to death. "Besides what are you doing here; you're not a student here, are you?" I questioned him. "How would you know I'm not a student here?" He threw back the question at me. He thinks he's got the upper hand in this situation, but he's in for a ride. It's my turn to smirk at him. "This school was sponsored by my parents; I know every student here; I'm popular and the top student." "My father gave me a list of students; after all, I am an only child." Instead of replying, he just bowed in a mocking way. He turned around, and now I'm facing his formidable back. He looked back at me, sporting his cunning smirk, as he walked out of the room. "See you soon, Miss Popular." "Hey, I'm not done talking to you; answer my question." Hey!  "Come back here!" I screamed in frustration: "I can't believe that guy; how can he have the audacity to walk out when I'm still talking to him?" He's the first one to ever do that to me, and I think this time I found someone who can match me. 

"How bad can this day be?" I groaned.

#island kdrama #Cha Eun Woo x reader #cha eunwoo fanfic

[kimkhimhant]

I love the instinctual gravitation towards warmth it's one of my favourite pieces of fiction,, I'm curious what inspired you to write it/how did you come up with the premise

(no pressure to answer <3)

ahhhh hi thank you so much for the question and for reading TIGTW! i'm so glad you enjoyed it!!

honestly, there were a few things that inspired the particular plot, and all of it had to do with my own analysis of Kim as a character. if you hadn't noticed, i kind of obsess over him.

gonna start with two canon moments that influenced the direction of the story a lot:

this first one: kim staring at his empty hand after chay gets up, after kim himself was unable to say i love you. i think its a beautiful moment for kim's character – the emptiness and visceral loss. he didn't commit any physical harm, but it still manages to mirror the common trope of a character staring at the blood on their hands after killing someone. and the second one: we only see this scene on reflection and not when it happens chronologically, and it's so briefly shown we don't know what happens before or after, but in this moment, Kim looks wrecked. he's sitting there listening to Chay sing his love song in the studio, and he can't handle it. he looks like he's about to have a panic attack, and he gets up and leaves, and we don't know what happens next.

So TIGTW starts with that scene. the "what happens next."

So that kinda sets the stage for what aspects of canon most inspired me lol. I guess the main inspiration for the premise beyond that is personal experience and projection. We see very little of Kim as a character beyond what he shows to other characters in the show. (maybe that's intentional to the story-telling. we know as little about him as the other characters. we get only a couple brief scenes of him alone, either investigating, or playing the guitar/writing while daydreaming about Chay and smiling). but what we do see is someone who's very isolated and who flounders in the face of affection, but seems desperate for those little moments of warmth he gets with Chay. so in comes projection: here's an isolated and lonely boy with a fucked up family and a childhood that likely lacked a lot of emotional warmth – let's give him all the problems that hit closest to home for me.

An opioid high feels like a jacked up version of love and joy and warmth. Kim can't get those feelings anywhere else, but... he could get them here. He's scared of emotional attachment, he's scared of being Known, but a feeling of love and safety that he's in control of, that he can enjoy in private? he'd cling to it.

Im gonna be honest, I didn't have a full plot when i started writing it. I'd only planned up to chapter 11: Kim spiralling after fucking things up with Chay, and then getting shot saving Chay because he was under the influence, and this being the turning point for him getting clean. Everything after that was just the natural progression that seemed to make the most sense for his continued recovery. because i really really wanted to portray a real recovery process, that wasn't just: oh, he has love now, he has Chay and his brothers and he decided to get clean now and that's that. he's sober and recovered and happy and the story is over. because that's not how it works. by the time i finished the main story, i had about a dozen different updated outlines, because it developed more and more with every chapter i wrote lol.

i guess the short version of this answer would be: i saw myself in him, and i wanted to give him healing and a happy ending, no matter how long it takes for him to get there.

sorry for the huge tangent, and thank you again for reading and your continued interest in the story! it means a lot to me, especially because the story itself is so important to me.

#benji talks #asks #the instinctual gravitation toward warmth #kimchay #kim theerapanyakul #kpts #kimchay fic

[gabessquishytum]

today's kinktober has me thinking about long term chastity again (not like it takes much...) and now i'm having Emotions about hob finally getting together with dream and like. hob's played around with chastity with partners before, he's played around with long term chastity, he's even had one or two partners who were interested in permanent chastity. but it's always been... bittersweet, for hob. he likes the fantasy of it, he does! but he can only stay with any partner for a few years, really -- maybe ten if he really pushes it -- so even spending the entirety of a relationship locked up? it wouldn't be all that long, not from hob's perspective. he had a boyfriend who liked to tell him that he was never getting the cage off, that he'd already come for the last time, that his poor little cock is just there for decoration now. and hob loved the fantasy of it, but it could never feel like anything more than a fantasy. he could never lie to himself enough to believe it.

and then he gets together with dream. and, because dream loves catering to his kinks, he gets a lovely cage of dreamstuff, shaped perfectly to fit him and entirely without a lock. dream's promised that if hob truly wants it off it will simply disappear, but hob finds himself thinking that... he doesn't know that, not really. he doesn't think dream would actually want him locked up forever either -- dream does love watching him come -- but he doesn't know that either, not for certain. hob has, for the first time, a partner who could keep him in chastity for the rest of his life if he really wanted to. it's a little terrifying. it's also so hot his poor caged cock aches and he's fairly sure he's starting to leak.

dream hasn't said anything about how long he intends to leave the cage on for. he honestly hadn't thought about it in much detail. not until he gets to watch hob's vivid daydreams of being caged for decades -- and gets to watch hob desperately fucking himself while he fantasizes about it.

-🐈‍⬛

Askdfjfj I am loving the love for chastity here tonight <3 as always, thrilled that you're enjoying kinktober! Here's the link to that chapter again.

I am also having feelings about Hob finally getting to pursue something that he's been so into for so long. There's something really touching in the fact that Dream is pretty much the only being who would give him this experience of long term chastity? He's the only one who can literally make his dream come true. Its very sweet.

Dream is also very, very into the whole thing. He intends to stay with Hob for the rest of recorded time, so there's plenty of room for them to play around with what they like. But he just loves seeing how obviously excited Hob is about having his cock caged. A few decades is nothing to Dream but when he sees it from Hob’s perspective he can understand why its so meaningful.

Long term chastity is symbolic. It means that Dream will be there is twenty or thirty years. It means that their love will endure and blossom, and it means that Hob trusts Dream down to his very essence. He doesn't think that Dream is going to disappear on him again. And all of this is very healing for Dream - who hardly trusts himself, at the best of times. Knowing that Hob has faith in him is more meaningful than he could ever realise.

And it is just really fucking hot to know that his lover physically cant cum without his permission and direct intervention. That's a kind of power that sets Dream alight and makes him want to fuck Hob in front of every dreamer in the universe.

I'm not saying it's quite like getting married, but there is something of a promise imbued in the air when Dream locks Hob’s beautiful cock away. A commitment. Wherever they are when Hob is finally allowed to cum again, they'll be together.

And Dream is very much going to enjoy Hob’s gorgeous, elaborately caged cock in the meantime.

#🐈‍⬛ anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[nijigay]

hiiii :3 I noticed ur one (of a few) ppl who ships boniji on tumblr, and I wanna know if you know any accounts/artists who ships them so I could follow them to satiate my boniji fixation >.< Also, some bocchi x nijika questions I wanna personally ask: what songs do you recommend that reminds you of them? Also, what are some boniji fanfics you recommend/like? I probably already read most of their fics but I wanna know what others like. Lastly, ur personal boniji headcanons if you don't mind sharing... 👉👈

I only ask blogs rarely cuz I'm shy so no need to answer immediately...

I'm just brainrotting over boniji so much! im so normal about them (◔‿◔)

AWAWAWA i love boniji like so much like too much like its become my main personality trait!

but youre right!!! it feels like boniji fans are mostly japan natives and there dont seem to be many english speaking boniji fans! ohhh i wish there was more of a following! imagine a boniji zine in the west! i would pay money to get involved with that

im kind of embarrassed about shoving my ships in ppls faces all the time and this might get long and its just me like rambling about my OTP so like .. gona put it under a read more lol. seriously this post is like almost 2k words long thats longer than my average fanfic chapter

i hate to be a shill but im going to be a shill for my fic recommendations:

ive been working on a lowkey corny boniji hanahaki fic on AO3 and some other oneshots, so maybe you would be willing to check my own stuff out?? (if u want .-. im really amateur with this stuff despite being an art student lol) its been on hiatus for like half a year but im just adhd af and keep restarting. im still working on it frequently tho and im secretly hoping to start updating on a consistent basis soon. but i also liked fics like "Midnight and Daydreams" and "Bubblegum Detergent" and "A Sellout Night" and "Just Enough to be Enough" and "A Kiss is Not A Cure". MANNN i remember that last one fucked me up bad when it was posted. it was only the second ever dedicated boniji fic and like I LOVE angst but with how small the sample size of fics was at the time it was like AUFHAUIJKADGF. all those fics are super super good though! i also love the third one, i love the trans bocchi HC personally

umm as far songs songs tho, i guess the ones i associate with boniji most are:

"veil" by keina suda, i remember drafting some animatic for an angsty AU of Hitori living on post-Kessoku

"STEP&CLAP" by yoshino aoyama (aka yoppi aka bocchis VA <3), i think yoppi making the song speaks for itself but its a rly cute song and i love thinking of Hitori and Nijika like tap dancing to it?? check out the rest of yoppi's debut album too!! her voice is so pretty and i was so happy finding out that there are 11 songs with her voice, instead of the 1 from the anime

idk why but i also think of them a lot when listening to PMMM's ost by yuki kaijuri, like "desiderium" and "not yet" and "mada dame yo"? these r kinda a stretch though but idk!!

i also like compiling music that reminds me of them into spotify playlists, if youd like some inspiration for your own! this one and also this angstier one

i have a lot of boniji headcanons but i feel like its hard for me to like list them all in one spot because they usually come to me with context during relevant conversations?? but ill list whatever i can think of!:

this ones not necessarily boniji but i was thinking about it like an hour ago, but i really like the idea of Seika being a huge boniji supporter. like in the source material she already finds Bocchi really cute, so I get the impression she would really like to be an older sister figure for Bocchi (and probably gets jealous of Kikuri for holding that spot in Bocchi's life lol), and so Nijika being a potential love interest for Bocchi would make Seika double down hard on supporting boniji. she'd probably be the one who brings Bocchi up to Nijika more than Nijika would bring her up to Seika?? i also like to imagine that for Seika she has a similar complex to Yoyoko. but instead of "Bocchi is stealing my spot as Hiroi's younger sister figure," it would be "Kikuri is stealing my spot as Bocchi's older sister figure" LOL . if that makes any sense at all

this ones actually taken from a japanese twitter user, but they moved on from boniji after the anime ended. but they had some headcanons that REALLY stuck with me. my favorite was the idea that Bocchi and Nijika both have inferiority complexes with one another. iirc their (translated) words were along the lines of "Bocchi thinks of Nijika as a pure, comforting light in her life, one that could be muddied if Bocchi got involved with her. On the other hand, Nijika thinks of Bocchi as a reliable hero who outshines an ordinary girl like her." i just REALLY like it. it also reminds me of this conversation that Yoppi and Suzushiro had on the BTR podcast, about Bocchi and Nijika's first meeting! like nijika literally brought light into Bocchi's life awdsfsgdhgfjh

actually that same user above also made a tweet that is the reason why i associate Keina Suda's "veil" with boniji! they made a tweet about an AU idea, where, in the event that Nijika would ever pass away, Seika would give Bocchi her ribbon, which Hitori would wear from that point onwards as she continues to play music to honor Nijika's memory. they also suggested that in the opposite event of Hitori passing away, Nijika would possibly do something very rash out of despair but thats dark hahaha!!!!

i kinda think this goes without saying and i think its actually a fairly common HC for BTR characters in general, but I can definitely see Bocchi being trans

I like to imagine that shortly after Volume 2, Bocchi and Nijika would probably have another conversation

eventually, i'm sure if Bocchi and Nijika pursued a relationship that they'd eventually move in together (or like into the same room? if Kessoku Band had a sharehouse?), and since both Bocchi and Nijika tend to be minimalistic with their room decor, their shared room would again become filled with a ton of Ryo's clothes and items and instruments, like how Nijika's room at Seika's apartment is

i think they'd both end up being really touchy with each other, especially when nervous? Bocchi kind of already does this when she's in new places (eg bringing Kita to Shimokitazawa, or going to FOLT for the first time and being dragged by Nijika), but I think it would grow to them finding comfort with each other?

idk if this is necessarily a HC but i really like how Bocchi and Nijika emotionally support each other, even in source. Nijika is shown to have a really good read on Bocchi (to the point of Bocchi worrying that Nijika is actually a psychic), knowing Bocchi's common thought processes, and picking up from Bocchi's mother during her first visit to Kanazawa that karaage chicken can bring Bocchi out of her anxiety attacks, and seems to be the only character who actually comments on Bocchi's growth as an individual and actively tries to facilitate it; but she also doesn't lovebomb Bocchi with praise, striking what seems to be a good balance for pushing Bocchi but also being a reliable confidant for her too.

one of my favorite details from the anime that i really feel doesnt get talked about as often as it should is when Nijika finally notices that Bocchi is guitarhero! she definitely wasn't the first to notice (Seika noticed first, but it seemed like Seika only knew about guitarhero via Nijika. When she notices that Bocchi's playing sounds familiar, her thought process immediately goes towards wondering why Nijika isn't noticing, and then she just tells them to get back to work) but she was the first one that Bocchi admits it too. but my favorite part is how Bocchi says that she wanted to change and grow as a person before telling them the truth, and she says that she especially wanted to grow before Nijika in particular found out! its just really cute, i love how Bocchi was worried about disappointing Nijika. and i like how, after some growth, Bocchi's dream turns from "becoming popular" to "making Kessoku Band the best band it can be" which is like almost basically the same as Nijika's dream! and so it's really nice when Bocchi doubles down on that goal by not remotely entertaining the idea of leaving Kessoku Band, even when goaded by promises of popularity.

last headcanon! because i ran out of thoughts and just came up with this on the spot. but i also like the idea that as the years go on, Bocchi and Nijika in particular may kind of become more similar in personality. i mean, they'd definitely still be distinctly them, but i like to think that Bocchi would eventually start picking up more optimistic habits and stop grimacing all the time, while Nijika would eventually become a little more lax and not reflexively try to dismiss her own negative feelings via looking at the silver lining. i thought of that when Nijika kinda dismisses her family dynamics with her mother's passing and her father's neglect after Kessoku's first real performance, as well as Nijika seeming to admit after inhaling Bocchi Dust(?) during her and Kita's Kanazawa visit that some of her optimism is performative

ok another one Nijika seems to have her art skills commented on sometimes so i like to imagine she has doodles of Bocchi in her sketchbook (alongside everyone else but mostly Bocchi). like think of like Miles Morales drawing a ton of Gwen Stacy like that kinda deal but with Nijika drawing Bocchi. and like Bocchi finds the sketchbook and Nijika freaks out and Bocchi actually doesnt look bc she doesnt want to do something wrong. but then Ryo or Kita take it and look instead and then show Bocchi and Bocchi melts into a flustered puddle

wowwow this got long! sorry! i really mean it when im like OBSESSED with these two like i think ive thought about them on a daily basis ever since the episode aired where Nijika bought Bocchi a cola. isnt that cute, too!? she picked up on Bocchi's favorite soda so quickly! and her buying a box of energy drinks for Bocchi despite not understanding why at all! girlfriend behavior

i really really want to make more boniji content, i'd like to be more active in posting my fics and drabbles and drawings, someday soon. right now most of my boniji content is just illegible sketches in my sketchbook lol

also thank u so much for like sending this ask im like BEGGING internally all the time to be given the chance to talk about them! i dont think theyre like a rarepair or anything, especially with them seeming to be like the second most popular BTR ship in japan, but i do think that not many people talk to them in the english side of the fandom! theyre super super cute and have really good chemistry.

this entire post is probably like a total carwreck i hope its even readable

ill also use this post as an excuse to post my own HCs for a Kessoku Band's relations chart. it's a bonus for reading this far. i'm sorry for draining 22 HP from you with this brain dump

#can i tag this #IM TAGGING THIS #boniji #bocchi the rock! #headcanons #hitori gotoh #nijika ijichi #hitori gotou #uhh what else would i tag. ... #my fanfic is in this #i really. really really REAAAAALLY like boniji #bocchi wants a cosplayer gf and the next day nijika starts fuckign cosplaying #what a coincidence #crazy right #long post #under the read more

[liv-andletdie]

Oh wow, I wanted to ask for puppy love and went to your Ao3 only to find out that I never left Kudos! I must have read it before I had an Ao3 account. 😅

Anyway, that's fixed now and I would like to hear more about Zelda's thoughts when she left for Castle Town again.

For anyone interested the scene can be found here in Puppy Love Chapter 5 "The Departure"

HELLO!! Sorry this is so late, Work has been kind of occupying a lot of my time recently (Christmas in Retail in not fun) but I'm really excited to finally answer this and to talk a bit about Puppy Love! so without further ado...

Zelda is going through a lot in this chapter, so let's break it down beat by beat.

At the beginning she is... I think the best word would be humiliated. Not as in "Link has maliciously made her feel bad." but in the sense of "She has made a fool of herself." During her time in Ordon she's sort of built up this romance in her head - or that's what she's telling herself. She always knew she was going to have to leave and go back to Castleton at some point because Work[tm] but she had been purposefully trying not to think about it. She has been indulging in playing out a little country romance.

Now I feel the need to clarify this by saying that Zelda has complicated feelings surrounding relationships and what's expected of her. I won't go too in depth because it'll come up in a future fic (if I every actually get round to writing it) so the TLDR is this: For the first time in a while Zelda has felt like she wants to pursue a romantic relationship with someone. However, she has convinced herself that Link doesn't actually reciprocate these feelings.

In her mind, she's let herself get comfortable with the idea of going on dates with the cute country vet. She's started to daydream about getting to know him better and getting to be known by him. She wants, for the first time in a long time, she wants.

But the timing is off.

So when we see her at the beginning of this chapter, standing in the rain and muttering to herself, she's actually giving herself a bit of a telling off. "So you don't get to be the main character in a cheesy romance novel. Grow up. It's okay. You're going to be okay"

(Also, just as we see that Link has a plan for their final meeting "Bring the medicine, check on the dog, see Zelda, say goodbye to Zelda, try to be charming so Zelda doesn’t think he’s weird, manage a suave goodbye so the last memory she has of him won’t be him having to run off to deal with a goat emergency, and then leave." Zelda ALSO had one. "Take Naru to the vets for a check up, see Link, show that I can be a normal person who doesn't start crying over my dog eating a chocolate cake or an earring, be cute and charming so his last memory of me isn't fumblingly trying to ask for his number, and leave" - only when Zelda went to the surgery she saw that he wasn't there and, well, that scuppered that plan.)

So she's a little preoccupied with trying to sort out her dog and her luggage and her emotions when Dr Wolfe shows up out of nowhere!

 “What an unexpected surprise” she said, feigning a smile “I’d offer you in for a cup of coffee but as you can see I’m…” she trailed off, eyes casting down to look at her feet.

She fully wasn't expecting to see him. She was dealing with the fact that she wasn't going to get a proper goodbye from him and then dealing with the fact that she maybe shouldn't be allowed to be upset about that because they've only met a handful of times and it's not like she means anything to him.

But he's here, with her prescription, which causes the little hopeful voice she's been trying to smother to pipe up and say "maybe he wants you to stay as much as you want to stay?"

And then he mentions that he's just doing his job.

Now we get to see Link's thoughts here but Zelda doesn't have that luxury. We know that it's just an excuse to see her again but... well.

“Of course,” she murmured, shoulders drooping a little as if the idea that he was only there for business hurt her in some way. 

It hurts. In the small moments before, she lets herself think that there is something else here, that maybe he might actually like her back, but those are dashed and the "reasonable" part of her says "of course he's doing something nice, he's a good person. You're not special."

After that they fall into their little back and forth before it's time to for her to actually leave.

“Link…” she started, [...] She looked like she wanted to say something more, her thoughts visibly dancing in her eyes. He wanted to ask her what was on her mind, to get her to open up to him. She worked up the courage to speak, a large intake of breath to steady her thoughts. And as she spoke he knew it wasn’t all that she wanted to say.

“Thank you.”

Zelda wants, in this moment, to stay. She doesn't want to go without at least making sure that Link is partially aware of her feelings. She wants to say "I'll miss you" she wants to ask "Can I come back?" or "Would you like it if I came back?" or "Is there a place for me here in Ordon with you? do I have something to come back for?". She wants to tell him that he's made her time in Ordon a happy one, that getting to meet him has made her feel things that she hasn't felt in years. But all she can make herself say is "Thank you."

Thank you for looking out for Naru. Thank you for comforting me. Thank you for playing fetch in the park with us and bringing us the medicine and just being so kind and lovely and You!

And then it's over. Link gives her the jar with the goat's milk and wishes her well and then it's goodbye. She gets into the taxi and drives off fully believing that she has missed her last chance at a romance with Dr Link Wolfe. Her biggest what if.

Thank you so much for this ask! It was a real pleasure to get to talk about Puppy Love and Zelda again. I promise I am working on the sequel but Retail at Christmas! so hopefully 2024 is the year we see these two finally go on their first date haha!

I hope you're having a wonderful time and Happy Holidays!!

#zelink #tp zelink #legend of zelda #puppy love #twilight princess #ask game #legend of zelda fanfiction #zelink fanfiction

[isleofair]

For the ask game, 80!

I wanna give you a free space as well like you did for me. So answer however many or little you'd like, your choice~ 💚

I hope you have a great rest of your day!

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 Thank you so much!!! 💚💚💚💚

Now I have to try not to answer too many of these... 😅

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

I daydream for AGES. I know that a story is the right one to write in that moment if I can't stop writing it in my head at any given time of the day (but especially when I'm trying to sleep).

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

I can only give vague hints to a close person or two, and even that is usually more than I can deal with: once I've shared something about a fic I'm writing, I feel like I've created expectations (even though that's probably not true) and it makes me anxious. I almost got stuck on a story because of this once, so I try to be careful about it now. (Also, I don't like spoiling stuff in advance. 😅)

18. Do you enjoy research?  Which fic of yours required the most research?

I do enjoy research, but sometimes I fall too far into the rabbit hole and I drive myself half-crazy. The answer to the second part of the question is most definitely Stereoscopy. (Which, for the record, is also the answer to all of the "which fic is your favorite/the one you're proudest of/the hardest to write/etc. questions.)

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

I think mostly it's the character who gets to discover/realize/learn more stuff throughout the story/chapter, so I have more of a journey to go on. Although, of course, sometimes, only one POV can possibly make sense for the story I want to tell (Stereoscopy from Nathan's POV would not be even half as much stupid, frustrating fun, for example 😏). (And sometimes, er, I kind of need some scenes to be in Keith's POV because, well, Nathan would not share my personal reservations about calling a spade a spade, if you know what I mean. 😳)

34. How much of your personal life/experience do you include in your fics?

In theory/intention, not too much. But in actuality, pretty much every single time, I look back at what I've written (or am writing, even, now) and have a moment where the "Gee, I wonder which of my deep-seated issues this is an extremely blatant way of trying to deal with" hits me over the head like a freaking cartoon anvil.

57. How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?

I really try to be, not so much about the foreshadowing, but definitely about the symbolism (although I think I only do it in either too-cryptic or too-explicit ways). I love using metaphors/similes/etc. and I really try to keep them consistent throughout a story, or to draw only from a single image/concept for a scene; but sometimes I stray because another one comes up, maybe for just a single line, that just seems so beautiful/fitting to me, and I'm not very good at killing my darlings.

And that's six questions and a very long post, so I need to stop! Thank you so much for giving me a chance to ramble about my writing! I hope your day is wonderful, too!!! 💙💙💙

Here's the ask list if anyone wants to ask or reblog it for themselves!

#writing #ask game

[greypetrel]

Ooh "a tentative, exploratory kiss between friends" because I'm curious about the first one between Aisling and Cullen 👀 but if there's someone it fits better, that's okay too!

You have wonderful timing, I was about to write this for the next fic chapter. 💜🤣 (Spoiler? If anyone here follows the Wordy Monster.)

The chapter have more build up and Science Bros making things explode (themselves included). You can read it here!

Following the original cutscene because I honestly find it cute, adding here and there (and modifying a line because it doesn’t make sense for them anymore and I didn’t really like in the original, as usual it’s a “It could have been phrased better)

Tis the prompt list

"a tentative, exploratory kiss between friends"

That really won’t do.

The morning’s War Council has been a disaster. Josie was talking about the preparations and uniforms for the Ball and how everything was ready for the fittings, and silks and whatever and guests- And Aisling didn’t listen to one word. She couldn’t, because Cullen was frowning at a pile of reports, brows furrowed in concentration and eyes intent, focused on the task ahead. He looked good, his cheeks seemed fuller and he wasn’t that pale. Maybe the last brew she gave him worked better, she should ask him. Go back in professional mode, yes, that she could do. As long as he was healthy and she could keep him so, maybe make him smile and laugh once in a while, it was ok if he thought she dislikes him. It didn’t make him less kind towards her, less of a friend. And yet, she was longing for more, the very word “friend” is too little, getting stretched more and more. She was longing to just cup his face and yell at him that she didn’t care, she never cared if not in a foolish moment when she thought he was scared of her, and she didn’t want him to be afraid or uncomfortable, not anymore and not with her. She was too concentrated on noticing how his hair almost looked silver when hit in full sunlight. She was wondering how that scruffle would feel under her hands, rubbing on her cheeks and under her lips. And-

- and, she was brought down back to earth from her reverie by a smirking Leliana who made a too witty, too knowing joke about her daydreaming. Aisling grumbled that she was just tired, she slept little the last night, and Leliana just -smirking horribly- suggested her to count lions before sleeping. Josie snorted a laugh, and Cullen just sighed, begging them all to please go back to work, too concentrated, luckily, on his reading to mind that Aisling just turned the exact shade of red of the velvet Josephine was favouring for their uniforms.

This really won’t do, not at all, she couldn’t go on like this. She refuses to start blabbering.

So, she decided to do what the grown-up, responsible First of Keeper Deshanna Isthimatorial Lavellan would do. Open up and confess, come clean and start again. Whine a little over it, cry, get drunk with Dorian, Sera and Bull and get on with her life. She and Cassandra were friends, now, it hasn’t been easy, but they made it.

The plan is simple: go to his office, ask him for five minutes alone. Tell him that she has this stupid crush on him and please, ignore any weird behaviour from her, and please, let’s stay friend and keep things just as they were before. Assure him that she never disliked him on principle, she would never have approached him. Now that she knows she just admires him greatly for realising his situation and acting towards a real change, it wasn’t easy. And then, once everything was out and she had nothing else to hide and overthink about, she would have just got on with her life, less uneasy from all those secrets.

On paper, it looks easy.

As she stands there, staring at his door with a raised hand, stalling before knocking, it’s one of the most difficult think she could think of. A part of her mind is screaming to just… run for cover, take her horse and spend the time until the Ball with Keeper Hawen’s clan. Dig a hole in the garden to bury herself into, become fertilizer for the elfroot, it would just be fitting for her.

The other part, tho, knows better. The other part has the voice of Cole and of Radha and knows she needs to spit it out for it to go away, and go on with their lives.

So, she takes a deep breath, checks another time she’s in good order, fixing her doublet -the nice one, the one in teal velvet and golden buttons and pointy shoulder pieces that matches her Vallaslin- on her trousers, combing her hair more tidily behind her ears- Or maybe not? Are they too big? No, no, ok, that’s a stupid doubt. Combing her hair more tidily behind her ears. And with a big breath and a small prayer to Mythal for strength, she knocks.

He seems surprised to see her. It’s not lunch time, and he’s a little confused to see her so early. Asks her if something happened, jumping to emergency mode and leaving his desk, reaching for his sword instinctively. At least, seeing him so full of nerves helps in calming her down. A little, at least. Just enough to ask him, after some formalities and small talk about health and the situation in the Keep, if he has some minutes to speak with her.

Alone.

She puts emphasis on the adjective, bracing herself for a refusal, some frowning, some scolding because he has evidently, by the amount of paper piles on his desk, a lot of work to do and no time to lose with a silly elf that should be working and isn’t. And yet, he just fumbles more, puzzled by the “Alone”, and… And just leaves everything as it is and opens the door for her, leading her to the battlements and walking by her side.

Silence, between them, has always been comfortable, it has been from the start of their friendship, none really needing to fill the silence or force the other to speak at all costs. Which is something Aisling never likes to do, if she hasn’t anything to say. Cullen never required words, never expected her to speak and put her at ease. Now, their silence is charged, both embarrassed by a single, decisive word that the elf is now rethinking and reconsidering again and again. They pass the second tower. And the third.

“It’s… A nice day.” It’s Cullen, finally, to break the silence.

Except that Aisling is yet again in her own head, screaming internally as words elude her. And, allegedly, realising he’s speaking to her with half a minute of late. Enough that she just has to ask him: “What?”

Another pause, they both look at the other not knowing what to do.

“It’s…” He starts, rubbing his neck, but decides better right away, shaking his head and looking at her, instinctively straightening up. “There was something you wished to discuss.”

She nods, nervously. Here. That’s it. Moment of truth. Mythal have mercy, or tell Elgar’nan to open the earth and swallow her whole.

“Cullen, I care for you, and I-” She stops, words dying in her throat again, realising that he’s looking at her in the eyes and she really has not the guts for it. So, Aisling groans, averting her eyes and sighing, looking down.

“What’s wrong?” And now he sounds worried. Great.

“You left the Templars… But you wrote in your letter implying that the majority of people still dislikes you on principle. And…” A pause, trying to recollect her thoughts. “… I wanted you to know that I never disliked you on principle. And that I’m very sorry if I ever gave you this impression, really. But…”

He tries to reply, but she raises a hand, signalling to no, please, let her finish. He gets it. She’ll be damned because he somehow always gets what she’s saying, is probably the only one that had never troubles understanding her messy cursive, and right now it makes her heart clench because she’s about to ruin it.

“… but I know we’re friends, and… Well. I also know that you don’t have the best experiences with Mages…” She swallows. Spit it out, da’len, don’t let it poison you. “… Could you think of me as anything more than just that? Than an Apostate and… And a friend…?”

There. It’s not direct. It’s not blunt, because right now she can’t deal with directness. She hopes it’s enough, as she shily turns her head to peek at him, see what he’s doing and his expression.

“I could.”

He blurts out, abruptly, without a hint of hesitation in his voice. Aisling perks up, mouth open and eyes big in surprise and wonder at his admission, looking at him in the eyes.

"Wait... What?"

Wrong thing to ask, apparently, even if it burst out of pure surprise, out of needing a confirmation that she, indeed, has understood correctly and it's not just deluding herself. The result, all in all, is that Cullen shies away immediately, a hand coming up to rub his neck and turning away. He starts to walk again, as he fumbles with words again. Aisling just follows him, hope blossoming in her chest and butterflies doing evolutions in her stomach.

“I-I mean. I-I do.” A pause. “Think of you.” He starts to massage his temples. “… And what I might say in this sort of situation.”

She trots after him, heart hammering fast in her throat.

“What’s stopping you?” She asks, managing to slip in front of him and turn to face him, arresting his steps. The irony is not lost to both, and they exchange a smile as he, indeed, stops.

“You’re the Inquisitor, and we’re at war.” He states a note of regret in his voice. “And, you’re my friend. My best friend, before of everything else and I… I didn’t want to ruin it. Also I…” He sighs, shaking his head. “…I didn’t think it was possible.”

“And yet I’m still here.” She smiles, encouragingly. She can’t help but smiling, as she steps back to rest against the wall in a crenelle, both hands propped on the border. Heart full and near to bursting.

He smiles back, cheeks flushed pink as hers, stepping forward slowly to get closer. And closer.

“It seems too much to ask…”

“I’m your best friend, right? I don’t mind doing you a favour. If you want to, we can try...” She banters, half that and half fumbling herself, speaking too quickly and with not much sense, tying strings together just to fill the silence and vent some restlessness.

“… I want to.” If she’s restless and hyped, he’s soft and delicate, placing a hand over hers on the stone, looking at her right in the eyes as he gets closer and closer.

She’s pinned in place, she can just nod when he furrows just a little, to silently ask for permission, the way he does when they play chess, words are over and he asks her if he can move. The same way they communicate if they’re all right from one side to the other of the War Table. Aisling closes her eyes, floating in anticipation, feeling his breath -delicate, still, he must be keeping it, smelling faintly like elfroot and the herbs she put in his brew- she’s leaning minutely forward and their lips brush against each other, very tentatively before-

“Commander.”

He draws back, inhaling sharply through his nose. Aisling, on her own, thrown back to earth too abruptly, lowers her gaze and turns her head away from the newcomer, clearing her throat and straightening her spine.

“You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.” The Scout continues, and as Aisling looks at him, he has his head bent down on a writing board, not looking at where he goes or his surroundings.

She is grateful that he doesn’t, because like that he probably missed the Commander and the Inquisitor being far too close for propriety’s sake, and at the same time she knows that Cullen will get absolutely pissed by that attitude. He surely barked against her enough times in drills to always, always, mind your surroundings, how many enemies are around, terrain.

“What?” As on clue, Cullen barks, seething in irritation as he turns from her and marches to the poor, still incredibly unaware Scout.

“Sister Leliana’s report, sir, you wanted it delivered right away.” The Scout seraphically goes on, calm as if it was asking a friend to pass him the salt during a picnic on a sunny day.

Finally he raises his head, and Aisling can see all colour draining from his face. She’s trying her best to merge with the surroundings and pretend she’s not there, or she’s invisible, but she can’t help looking. Looking as the Scout suddenly realizes that he manages to step on at least three buttons of Commander Rutherford, enough to have him silent and most likely with a murderous expression on his face - again, Aisling knows that look he has with the particularly arrogant recruits that have him repeat very simple questions twice, explaining his work to him. The Scout looks at her, finally, and before Aisling snaps her head and eyes on the other side of the battlements, clearing her throat eloquently, she spots him absolutely terrified, putting 2 and 2 together.

“Or… Or…” The poor boy swallows. “… or to your office! R-right!”

It’s almost comical how he retreats walking backwards, not leaving Cullen’s eyes as one would do with some sort of wild animal very angry at you. As if he was afraid that by turning and running, the Commander would have understood that he was prey to run after, and jumped at his throat.

As the door to the guard tower slams behind the Scout again, Aisling speaks.

“Cullen, if you need to- oomph!”

He’s on her abruptly, heavily and roughly. He doesn’t really centre her mouth at first, and needs to readjust. But like that, he scrubs his beard against her face, slightly, and it’s rough and blissful and very weird, in a good sense. He cups her face, keeping her close and moving her slightly for a better position. She closes her eyes and kisses him back, not knowing where to put her hands. Tentatively, she decides that his ribcage, on his sides, is a good position. He doesn’t seem to mind, at least, when he moves away, red till the point of his ears, smiling goofily at her, eyes sparkling.

“I’m- I’m sorry. That was… Uh, that was nice.” He sounds not really convinced. It could be shyness, or not, she needs to know.

“… You don’t regret it, do you? I mean, we can always pretend it never happened, go on as before…” She prods, offering him a way out. She wouldn’t be able to go on as before, but she can try.

He just looks at her, tho, awestruck as if it is the first time he really sees her. Sees her for real, eyes shining and a smile not leaving his lips, bending his scar just so in that way she likes. She really hopes he doesn’t regret it, tho, because she doesn’t want him to look at her in any other way than this, and moreover she really, really wants to kiss him again. Kiss him better. Longer.

“No!” He answers her, and they both smile wider, one following the other. “No, not at all… Do you?”

“Mh. I’m not really sure. Care to try again? For science?”

And yet, she moves slightly closer, not going the full way, but making it clear that she’s up to it. He laughs, shaking his head and resting his forehead against hers, thumbs gently caressing her jaw where they’re still placed.

“Yes. Well…”

They try again. Slower, more tentatively, savouring the moment more. Aisling hugs him properly after a minute -she restrained herself-, bringing him closer despite his armour and cape. It’s really different than Ydun, it’s less soft and less delicate, movement less precise. It’s ten times better – more heartfelt, for once.  She manages to shift a little and indeed kiss his scar, humming in contentment, before Cullen seems to remember something and moves a little back, concern on his still flushed face.

“I- I wanted to say, forgive me for what I wrote. I never… it came out wrong, I’m awful with letters that aren’t report, I didn’t mean to say that I think you disliked me on principle, I don’t think that. It’s just that… I mean-”

He’s fumbling so much, looks so concerned even if he stull is blushing madly, ears deliciously pink. He’s fumbling so much that she starts to laugh, slipping her arms in front of him, her turn to cup his face and bring him back for another kiss - regretting she did wear gloves today, but she guess it would mean they’ll have to do it again.

“Shut up.” She tells him, giggling as she kisses him again. And again.

#dragon age #dragon age fic #cullavellan #cullen x lavellan #aisling lavellan #cullen rutherford #writing petrel #RIP Jim you'll be remembered amongst heroes #(in the tower there's a group of people following them around because they all have been pushing them against each other for a while) #(poor Jim would be trampled by the whole inner circle for almost jeopardising the whole operation) #Yes even Cole did his best #And eventually succeeded

[sticks-and-souls]

20 Questions for Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 5. Some of y'all write so fucking fast.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

19,583

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Basically just star wars, and within that, just The Clone Wars (but in my defense, that is a highly diverse universe). But I daydream around whatever media I'm consuming so if something sticks, I may write it (like Loki).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lmao, all five that I've written! But Battle Scars (star wars) and Moribund (loki) are basically tied in first place with each other.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Listen, I get really in my head about it. Like the answer is "yes" but also if it's been too long....then I feel like it's too late (RIP all comments for the 2nd chapter of Battle Scars). But comments are the BEST and I always appreciate it when an author responds to comments that I leave for them.

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

Ha! Moribund.

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

Off Duty?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, thank god. I don't know what I'd do.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not....yet........

10. Do you write crossovers?

No but I have read some especially good ones.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of? Seems unlikely.

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

No, but I think it would be rad. If @mithrandirl ever wanders back to star wars I feel like we could create something great.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Spuffy. The older I get the less I believe in "there's only one perfect person for you" and I'm much less rigid about who I ship characters with. But Spuffy hit me before that time and even in rewatches of the series there is something so deeply intimate in the way Buffy and Spike understand each other, validate their strengths and weaknesses, and complement one another in the best way possible for the lives that they're living.

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

I don't have time for your naysaying! I will finish them all if I have to live to be 200 to do it!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Having my characters feel very true to character, I think? And dialogue maybe?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dude, I am so fucking slow at writing. My quality/speed relationship is a steep negative line.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Does it strengthen the writing, the story, or the characters?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Before I realized that formulating entire stories in your head, and revisiting them over and over again until they're memorized, even if you never actually write it down still counts as writing (to me), Artemis Fowl.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

That's been posted? Battle Scars, but let the record show that Wa(te)r Born holds a very special place in my heart. I am deeply proud of the writing that I did there despite it being only 500 words.

But ultimately, my unpublished foxiyo fic is where my heart lies. Hopefully someday soon I'll start posting.

This is my extreeeeemely late response to @mithrandirl 's tag. I'm sitting at home sick so I'm not up for writing (is my excuse and I'm sticking with it) but I AM up for talking about writing. Tagging @ladysongmaster, @ninjigma, @captainlaurence, and @grave-cupcake, but if you write things consider this an open tag <3

#on writing #on fanfiction #questions game

[chelsea-xxx2003]

Chapter 2

(part 2)

Now millions of questions where going off in Miles' head. He wanted to know more about 'aunt' Maya. Mainly to jog his memory

"Can you tell me more about her. How did you meet?"

This peaked his uncles intreats. It was long road down memory lane.

"We went to the same high school. Manhattan high school in the 90s. She was a sophomore and I was in senior year. She had moved from a different school from a different state."

YEAR 1995

It was senior year for Aaron Davis. The final year of high school. Here we have an 18 year old Aaron with a short fade with a line cut on the side. He walks through the hallways of school to his locker with his bag drapped over one shoulder. He looked really tired that morning. Why? Must of been the petty crimes he was committing at night. It's not like he had much of a choice. He did it to survive. Living in the projects of Manhattan with a brother who was now working and a single mom who works the entire day was hard. Even harder if the place is constantly running with crime.

He and his brother Jeff were recently involved in this life of crime in order to put food on the table, heat in apartment and to prevent their mother from worrying about bills too much. Maybe it wouldn't have been so hard if their good for nothin father didn't bail on them at a young age. They mainly took part in stealing and scamming. They would steal and sell things to people or dealers. Their mother didn't know that because she would work long hours during the day or night

"Yoo Aaron man where was you last night? You missed a heck of party man. There were some of those chicks form the other school."

"Oh for real?" He answered back completely sounding uninterested. This is his friend, Dion. He's very loud and enthusiastic. He calls himself a ladies man. He's just goofy as hell.

The bell rung and it was time to go to class. The two guys went to class in different classes. Aaron had Maths class first and sat at the back next to the window. He could just sit there and daydream whilst the teacher was talking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, make sure you revise this weekend for the maths exam. This is just a test until the real exam. Remember this is your final year. See you next week."

And with that class was dismissed. Aaron collects his stuff and walks out last. He walks back to his locker. He is literally on the verge of falling asleep. That is until he hears a sweet voice behind him. He turns and sees a girl. This wasn't just some girl. He was pretty sure this kind of girl was every guys dream. She was just so damn beautiful.

"Excuse me could you help me find my next class room. I have a business class."

He was completely mesmerised by her beauty. She had silk pressed hair that looked wavy with a side parting. She wore a plain white t-shirt with a baseball jacket on top. She wore skinny jeans and some white high top sneakers. To top it off she had gold hoop earrings. He finally snapped out it. It was time to pull out his best side. He takes a deep breath. He swiftly raises his hand and puts it on Her shoulder.

"Hey. Yeah sure I'll show you, if you give me your name." He said with a smirk. She gave a shy smile and looked away. It was so cute Aaron could melt.

"I'm Maya."

"Names Aaron. You got a cute name Maya."

She giggles and has a faint blush on her cheeks. He takes his arm back and walks her to business class but takes the longer route so he could talk to her longer. At one point Dion calls him from down the hall. He looks back and waves him off. He smoothly puts his arm around her shoulder. Dion takes the hint and leaves him be. They arrive to the class on time.

"Thanks for showing me my class Aaron."

"I guess I'll see you later. After school maybe?"

"Sure."

"I'll meet you by the entrance."

And with that he walks away to meet up with Dion for gym class. As he entered the boys locker room it went quiet. He looks up and all the guys a looking at him. That doesn't stop him from moving to his locker.

"What are y'all looking at?"

"What's her name?" Somebody asks.

"That ain't your business."

"Aww come on man. I'm tryna tap that. She look fine as hell. I could put a ring on it too. Damn she can have my children." Dion makes his way through the crowd. Aaron turns and gives him a disgusted look. Dion puts his hands up as defence.

"Look man she ain't just some piece of meat to be passed around. I'm sure she's to good for that. Beside I'm meeting with her after school."

This had the guys all hollering about how lucky he was, how he was the man. Of course I am.

Now Aaron was waiting at the entrance for Maya. A bunch of student walk past him then he sees her come out and down the short stairs.

"Hey.”

He raises his arm and places it around her shoulder. She smiles up at him.

“Hi.”

To be honest Maya liked it. She had a sense of protection around him. They take a walk around and he takes her to a pizza place where most of the students hang out after.

"Let me buy you a slice."

"Are you sure."

"100%"

To say she was flustered was an understatement. She was in the clouds. From that moment, it was him and her. They stared dating after a few months. He was happy and she was happy. Aaron had money so he brought her gifts. At one point he gifted her a necklace with his name on it. It was gold and in cursive writing. She never questioned it and just accepted the gifts.

Few months after that Aaron introduced her to his mom and older brother. She liked her from the start. She called her the daughter she wanted but never had. Aaron was happy with the interaction between the two ladies. Jeff said you the sibling he wanted teasing Aaron. You all laughed and Aaron shrugged it off. When she went back home his mom talked to Aaron.

"She's a nice girl Aaron. Better than those exes of yours. You better not mess this up."

He looked at his mom with a smile. "Yes ma'am."

He was about to walk away to his room when his mom says "And wear a condom for goodness sake. I don't want another pregnancy scare."

He hangs his head low and leaves with a quiet "Yes ma'am."

#spiderman #spider verse #miles morales #Aaron David x oc #into the spiderverse #aaron davis x reader

[streets-in-paradise]

I truly would enjoy seeing the story go that route! It fits in with both their characters! It’s be so interesting and wonderful to read. I love your writing!

Thank you so much!

Once I will finish writing a few more chapters i'm getting ready for the main fic, i will write one piece to give this AU a chance. Ever since we started talking about this i have been daydreaming a very particular scene i can't get out of my mind and it is so cute so i will share it with you:

The standard wedding ceremony on that period centers a lot in the experience of the bride. The end of the ritual consisted in the bride being accompanied by singing maids holding tortches to light her way to the nuptial bed. Once there, her personal servants were in charge to get her ready for the later arrival of the husband. Most of the preparations consisted on normal beauty rituals like applying special perfumes all over her body to make her the most desirable possible for the expected consummation.

And like, having this in mind, i began to imagine their wedding night as a soft moment of mutual comfort.

The handmaids of the princess did the best they could to cheer her, Tal speaking of how good she looks and Eny rambling of how handsome Hector would be looking like once he would cross the bedroom door. They know that's not how she daydreamed her wedding night to be, but they didn't even want to mention Achilles fearing she would start crying…

And when she is left alone and Hector arrives, she cries. Not because of being afraid of him, what she would never because she knows what kind of man he is. She sobs from the sorrow of seeing her dreams crushed.

Hector can tell that's not the crying of a scared maiden who fears unwanted touch. That's a hopeless girl lamenting loosing the chance to be with who she considers the love of her life. He has never seen her this fragile, she is broken and that is shocking to witness for him.

He approaches her like a friend. Although they both wear garments expected for the context of a wedding night, making it an awkward paradox at first. He splits the covers of the bed by himself, allowing her to get inside and cover herself so she wouldn't have to feel exposed in front of him anymore because the cloth of her attires is traslucent.

She struggles to get back into a composed attitude, but hides it behind her typical ironic humor.

" Do i really look so ugly that you won't even look at me?" She jokes, face still wet from the sobbing. " I worked hard on this clothes. You won't believe me, but i have been planning this moment for a long time."

" … I'm the detail that escaped your planning. " He replies ríght away. " I can tell you conceibed that following the preferences of another man. "

He glances at her for an instant in contemplative silence.

" I don't share his apparent urge for seeing you undressed. A normal nightgown would have been alright. "

His words make her get deeper into the covers.

" The choir singing the himeneus didn't follow me here to watch over my sleep. I have to act convincent for the rest of the world … and i didn't got time to make any other discrete dress for this moment."

She never imagined a different fate, her faith on Achilles was once so strong that all her previous preparatives only contemplated him. Laying there with any other man was unthinkable, she was convinced that he was the one meant to become her husband.

" I am aware I'm not the man of your dreams. " Hector frankly comments. " Maybe i will never be, but you don't need to hide that from me for the sake of performance."

She looks directly at him for the first time since the arrival and finds a sweet smile across his face.

" You don't have to be my wife tonight, you are still my friend. " He reminds her. " Am i your friend? I don't want you to loathe me over this, neither of us have choosen it. "

Calmly but still hesitantly, he takes the spot beside her in the bed just to lay close.

" You got the worse part of the deal. My condolences, Agamemnon is now your in law while I got Priam and Paris. "

In her often indirect ways, that seems to be a confirmation for his ask.

" It could have been worse, i could be marrying a stranger and so could you… Can't you see how extremely lucky we are?"

Settled in her cynical pessimism, she puts her sharp tounge on point.

" Luck for you would have been to marry Andromache. You would be making love to her ríght now instead of drowning in my negativity."

To her surprise, he isn't frozen by that ironic mention.

" I'm already used to your wicked sense of humor, you can't weaponize it anymore. " He clarifies to her. " It's true, we are not here out of love, but we don't have to make it be the end of our lives."

She remains silent for an instant, meditating in the meaning of his words.

" In all my life, i have envisioned only two possible fates. Marrying the love of my life or letting my father win. That meant, accepting whatever horrible choice he had for me and ending tied to a man i would surely despise. "

Thinking she is classifying him as the second option, Hector feels slightly hurted. Despite he is not in love with her, he doesn't want her cold rejectment.

Out of sudden, she accomodates closer to him in chaste seek for physical comfort.

" I never imagined i would be getting married to a friend. "

#have a bit of a short drabble born from my daydream #asks #messages #troy 2004 #hector of troy #hector x resder AU

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Please, do you have any tips for getting the motivation to write? Not like, getting inspiration or figuring out how to write. I have so many ideas I have for both personal ideas and fanfics, but when I sit down to write, I get about one paragraph in, many two, then I just lose the motivation to keep on typing and figuring out how to structure my words. It's so frustrating and makes me wanna cry. Do you have anything you do to help you just sit down and write/type? It would be really appreciated! I don't want to be just called "lazy" anymore.

First off i'm so sorry that it took me so long to answer life kinda came up and grabbed me, also i can and will fight everyone who is calling you lazy because that's not okay, make them turn on their locations i just wanna talk

everything else under the cut bc this got long

Second! I think for me the biggest thing to just get me started is a first draft doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to exist. I just gotta spill words onto a page and then I can go back and like actually no i want this to read like this and this to read like this. Also why I'm an advocate for drafting in comic sans 'cause ain't nothing gonna look polished and finished in that font which means you can fuck up as much as you want just to get it down.

Third, and I don't know if this will work for everyone, I don't always write in prose the entire time--that is, sentences, punctuation, all that. One thing that I'm a big fan of doing is bullet fics where I'll just bullet point what I want to happy and not pay attention to tone consistency or any of that. Then I can break down parts that are being really loud in my head and do them with proper everything like how I'd write them out for a fic or a chapter but I can keep the momentum going of 'and then this shit happens 'cause they're both idiots' and just get everything out. I've had a lot of projects where they're about 20% actual written prose and 80% 'so this and then this and then this is what they're thinking' in bullet form. You can always go back and edit it later, just get it down and out of your head. I find sometimes re-reading the bullets can bring the daydream/story idea back to the forefront of my brain and then it's easier to keep writing as opposed to leaving it all up there where it's liable to disappear completely.

Kind of jumping off from that, there's a phrase someone told me once about not letting your pen rest on the page because you'll just get a big well of ink. Keep it moving and you'll figure it out. If i'm struggling to figure out how to phrase something or write something, I'll write the clunkiest version of it [or just put what happens in square brackets like this] and move on to come back to later. i find if i fixate too hard on the hump of what's giving me trouble in that moment i'll lose the rest of the story.

Then there are a few things that are more, like, personal ambiance things? I'll find a song or a soundscape to listen to that makes my brain vibrate at the right frequency to immerse myself in the tone of whatever I want to write and listen to it on repeat even if i'm not actively writing. For some longer pieces i'll take pacing breaks where i literally just get up and walk around listening to whatever it is while i make my brain spin about it without the pressure of putting it to words. If a few specific quotes or passages pop into my brain i might take the time to scribble them down but it's mostly about making sure i'm immersed enough in the world i'm trying to write so i don't have to concentrate so hard on making sure the technical parts of my writing matches with what's in my head.

I suppose something I will ask (and honestly maybe should have asked earlier) is what parts of writing make it feel 'complete' to you and where do you find it the hardest to pick up once you've left it for a bit? If it's the pressure to get everything down just so you can point to it and say 'see here's what's happening, here are the arcs, here's where the story goes,' then the bullet technique might be more helpful. If it's the art of figuring out how you want to phrase things and how you want your words to go, I'd suggest trying the square brackets technique so you can focus on the parts that feel really strong or that you really want to sink your teeth into without interrupting the flow of the words. It's totally okay to write things out of order (i still have to convince my brain of this sometimes too) and removing some of the pressure to make everything perfect (or even prose) first time around when you just need to write can be super helpful

I hope this was helpful and kind of what you wanted!!!!! If there are any other questions you have--or if you want more of these sorts of suggestions if they weren't very helpful--please lemme know

#dragonbabbles #i do have opinions on the matter

[atomatowriter]

What kind of music do your OCs listen to?

OC you most struggled to make?

What are some things that inspired your stories? Real events? Maybe a dream?

Music: So I actually think a lot about this. Let me answer sort of modern AU for the Time's Sacrifice and the Come Home brothers:

Music is not as important to Celin as it is me, but her vibe for me resonates with a lot of Vienna Teng or early Ingrid Michaelson.

Alasdair would love a lot of moody, theatrical kind of music. Florence + the Machine, The Amazing Devil, Lorde, Hozier, etc.

Nico would be the sort of "if I have music going in the background, it's instrumental bc lyrics distract me" person if he's working on something. Some rock, as well.

Rhys would listen to a lot of indie and maybe some folk. He'll listen to other genres but that's what gets him In His Feels, which he often is.

Cassidy listens to a bit of everything, but he definitely has long playlists of his favorite video game music. Man he'd LOVE Transistor like almost exclusively for the music.

OC Struggle: Nico is absolutely one of the hardest. Partly because I had a good idea of what I wanted for Alasdair, I'd had Celin for a while, so I was kind of building Nico FOR them? And partly because he's so incredibly reserved. To this day, even now that I'm writing Nico POV chapters, it feels hard to chip away at him because he's just so private.

Inspiration: So both of the stories I'm working on right now came from D&D games. I've talked about Time's Sacrifice but YOU'LL HEAR IT AGAIN. Some spoilers for the ending of the book though I've never kept it super secret, but be advised.

I made Celin as a PC for a game Cressida was running set in the world of Fire Emblem: Three Houses. She was Faerghan, became friends with Prince Dimitri in like session 0, and she and Dedue quickly became a budding sort of romance. Cressida also wrote and writes a lot of fanfic with Dimitri, typically where he's gay and polyam. So at one point I joked to Cressida, "Okay AU where Celin and Dimitri get married because they're friends and it makes sense politically and Celin is like 'Hey I know you're in love with your friends, you know I'm in love with Dedue (and you are also in love with Dedue), we can make this work.'" We never did anything with it but my mind kinda ran away with it and so I decided to turn it into a book. But I didn't want it to be Fire Emblem fanfic with different names, so I came up with new characters for the prince and the bodyguard. I made Alasdair a soft boy who wasn't much of a physical fighter and I made Nico a lot grumpier and angrier, though still with a secret soft side. I built a world that would make sense for the journey I wanted them to go on and voila. And over time the "school for nobles" setting changed to just getting some training at court. Gonna self-promo real quick bc book one is on sale now if you wanna check it out!

Rhys is from a sort of small-town-with-secret-magical-fae-bullshit D&D game. I made him on a whim, he's just a sort of soft farmboy type of character, but I quickly got attached to his relationship with his older brother. He's also lived his entire life knowing he was sort of a replacement for his older sister, who went missing before he was born, and that's impacted a lot of his relationships with his family. So at one point, Cressida and I watched Onward and I got very emotional and, as is my usual way for processing emotions, began to daydream about this idea of Rhys finding out he was a changeling who was traded for his sister and running off into the fae forest to try to get her back - and then his brother coming after him. Thus Come Home was born.

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#forevermagik #writing community #the time's sacrifice trilogy #come home