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saurexhas · 3 years

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Love is Blind - Part 1

So I’ve been hanging out with @studionovella and the team for @nightmare-castle, and the sheer talent in their discord server is so amazing. It led me to be inspired, and while I’m typically more of a Sanscest writer, I figured that it’d be fun to try something new considering the source of my inspiration! So have some Nightmare x MC (Nightmare x Reader).

Be warned, this story handles blindness and... probably some other sensitive topics considering it’s me. So just watch the tags for any relevant triggers!

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You didn’t think that it was possible, but somehow you had fallen for Nightmare. On the surface he was cold, cruel, and calculating, using everyone he could to advance his goals. But if you could tolerate the coldness, get past his clinical treatment of those he believed were beneath him, then there was so much more to him. Nightmare was a scholar, a brilliant mind with a vision for a world all his own. He appreciated the arts, often enjoying his downtime with a good book and a calming cup of tea. And believe it or not, there was a small part of him that genuinely cared for the skeletons under his charge. You’ve seen that side of him more than most, managing to open even his eye to what was hidden beneath the centuries of anger and hatred.

Even if negativity was still a large part of who he was, you found yourself able to accept that darkness, because it only made the small lights within him shine brighter. Just like the stars the two of you were gazing at. Though as your gaze shifted to the skeleton currently dominating your thoughts, you found that piercing cyan eye of his locked onto you instead of the sky. If there was ever any doubt in your mind that your feelings were reciprocated, one look at his gaze would sweep it all away. There was a tenderness to him, reserved only for you as he would say. It was only in these moments where the two of you were alone that he would let his imposing demeanor slide.

Getting moments to yourselves was easier said than done though. Despite the sheer size of the castle, the others always seemed to be around. They knew how Nightmare favoured you, how he treated you special and wasn’t as harsh. You were pretty sure that they’d managed to piece everything together on their own, even if none of them ever said anything for fear of angering their king. That said, some of them, namely Killer, seemed to delight in getting in the way of your fleeting moments alone. And there was always no shortage of work to be done, not when your partner was as ambitious as he was. Nightmare aimed to create an empire, and you were doing what you could to further his goals. Even if all that work and Killer’s interference left you and Nightmare fleeing to other worlds in order to have some semblance of a relationship.

Outertale was a favourite destination of yours, the beauty of the cosmos always taking your breath away. It always seemed so far removed from the chaos of the multiverse, or the chaos of the castle.The peace and quiet out here made it perfect for when both you and your partner just needed a break. You could stand out here for hours, watching the subtle shifts in the sky or mapping constellations.

But for now, you were seemingly locked in a staring contest with the lord of darkness, neither willing to look away or break the silence that had fallen. Unsure of what to do, you simply reached out with your finger and booped the tip of his nose. The look of utter surprise on his face left you giggling, only for his own rich laughter to mingle with yours.

“You dare to lay a hand on the God of Negativity, hmm?” He teased, pulling you close with his tentacles before wrapping his arms around your waist. “You are either very brave or very foolish… maybe a bit of both. How shall I deal with your crime, my little moon?”

You couldn’t help but swoon a bit at the pet name he called you, grinning up at him like a fool as you took advantage of the close proximity to snuggle close. “I could swear my love to you, would that appease the great Nightmare?”

“Perhaps,” he chuckled, the distance closing between the two of you even further as he ducked his head down to be level with your own. Nightmare opened his mouth, perhaps to say something else or to move in for the kiss you were anticipating. Before either option could happen though, the dark skeleton froze for a split second. There wasn’t even time to ask what was wrong before you found yourself hefted into his arms, the two of you dodging a volley of bright blue arrows that had speared where you’d been moments ago.

Your heart hammered in your throat, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you tried to get a grip on what was happening. Nightmare still had you cradled to his chest, dodging arrows and… was that paint? Following the paint’s trajectory, you could see your partner’s enemies had managed to crash your little date.

The Star Sanses stood on the other end of the floating chunk of rock you were on, the portal they’d used to arrive closing behind them. Blue was just coming through the portal, his gaster blaster hammer in his grip. Dream had another arrow ready to fire, though he hesitated upon seeing you staring back at him. Ink on the other hand wasted no time in splattering more of his paints everywhere, a tentacle raising to block you from the oncoming attack. The paint hissed and fizzled on contact, a growl leaving Nightmare as he jumped to another nearby rock to escape the barrage.

“Night, are you okay?!” You look up to see him trying to hide his pain, showing you that those paints are far more than something to be smeared on a piece of paper. While you’d heard stories from the others about the chaotic creator, you’d never met him in person or seen him fight. Seeing that paint flying towards you was way scarier than the guys’ stories had led you to believe.

“I’ll be fine,” Nightmare insisted as he set you down, even if you knew that attack hurt. “Look, you need to remain here where you’ll be safe. I don’t care what kind of training you’ve been partaking in with the others; I refuse to let you endanger yourself by fighting them. Ink especially is dangerous, keep away from him at all costs. If you cannot dodge his attacks, make sure to shield your face. His paint can burn like acid if he wishes, and while liquid negativity protects my body, you have no such defenses. Give me your word that you will remain safe while I deal with these pests.”

As much as you wanted to argue that you could help, even you couldn’t muster the confidence to speak against him with such a stern glare directed at you. It was clear that Nightmare wouldn’t take no for an answer on this one, so you had no choice but to nod your head meekly. “I-I’ll stay here,” you promised, glancing up to see him seemingly satisfied. Without another word, he rushed off, preventing Blue from getting any closer with his large hammer.

Watching Nightmare take on all three of the Star Sanses by himself was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, much like the first times you’d joined sparring sessions with the guys. But there wasn’t the assurance in the back of your mind that nobody would be out to kill you. While it might not be the goals of all of the Stars, there was very much mortal danger in this fight for both you and the one you loved. Staying on the sidelines like this was painful, leaving you feeling useless as Nightmare struggled to hold off the onslaught.

Were they not essentially your enemies, you’d be impressed by the coordination and teamwork the Stars possessed. All three of them were capable of both melee and ranged attacks, and wordlessly organized themselves so that one of their own was never in danger of being hit by their own attacks. Dream’s precision with his arrows allowed him to stay primarily a ranged fighter, while Blue’s blasters and Ink’s attacks were a bit too widespread to risk while one of them fought in close combat. Nightmare was the only one without a specific ranged attack, which probably explained why the others rarely got close to attack. Your lover’s tentacles gave him reach though, and the ability to hit multiple targets at once, so he was somehow able to hold his own against all three.

The battle looked to be a stalemate… until one of the Stars suddenly switched tactics. While Blue rushed in with a hammer and bones at his side, Ink actually turned his back on the fight. He seemed a little lost, like he was trying to remember something, only for his eyes to light up as he locked gazes with you. Instant panic seized you as the one skeleton that Nightmare warned you about came straight for you, manic glee plastered over his face as he quickly crossed the distance between the two of you. A glance back at the battle proved that Nightmare had seen what was going on, but Blue was keeping him from coming to your aid. So it was up to you to think fast and avoid the creator, hope bubbling in you that this might actually make things easier. If you could keep Ink busy by dodging his attacks, then Nightmare might be able to take on the remaining two with better success before coming after Ink.

With this admittedly crazy plan in your head, you began a game of cat and mouse with Ink, jumping from one place to the next. If you didn’t have a splash-happy maniac chasing you, it would’ve been cool to enjoy the low gravity of Outertale. For now though, it was all that was allowing you to escape most of the attacks directed at you. You were far from unscathed though, small splashes of paint eating away at your arms and legs. It burned, but was nothing you couldn’t deal with as you continued to dodge and weave the bulk of the attacks. So long as none of it touched your face, you would be fine.

Glancing back at the main battle going on, your hopes of Nightmare doing better against two targets instead of three were steadily being crushed. He seemed distracted, constantly looking up to watch you kite Ink around the area. Instead of focusing on the two he had to deal with, he was so worried about you and Ink that he was now losing. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was facing off against Ink and Blue, because there was little the two could do beyond superficial damage. Dream on the other hand was still very much a threat, his arrows of pure positivity being about the only thing that could seriously hurt. And you could see several piercing the ground, coated in the black negativity that Nightmare relied on for protection. It was a surefire way to see when he’d been hit, and the staggering amount of these soiled arrows made it clear that your partner wasn’t holding his own anymore. Guilt welled up in you, because you were the reason he was now losing this fight. While there wasn’t much you could honestly do to shake Ink from your trail, reason did little to quell the negativity rising inside you. All you could hope for was that your own despair could give Nightmare just a bit more power, enough to keep himself safe at least.

As time dragged on, both you and Nightmare were running out of stamina. Your legs cried for rest as you continued to run away from the creator, while your lover’s movements were growing noticeably sluggish. More arrows seemed to connect than not at this point, and he had barely any time to recover from one attack before dealing with another. The two of you were badly losing, and it was quite clear now why Nightmare rarely let anyone from the castle venture out on their own.

The Stars seemed to sense this sudden weakness in their target, Dream finally stopping his barrage to call out to the one going after you. “Ink! Stop playing around, I need your help!” Help? What help could Ink possibly be? Even his corrosive paints couldn’t breach the surface of Nightmare’s negativity, the only thing that could was Dream’s… oh… oh no.

As the realization hit you, Ink finally gave up his pursuit. “Woo! Looks like my plan actually worked… at least I think this was my plan. Whatever, let’s do this!” Laughing at some untold joke, Ink hopped away from you to return to the large rock that most of the battle had been on. At the same moment though, you felt your legs moving as the horrific reality of their plan hit you. Ink purposefully went after you to distract Nightmare, allowing the others to weaken him enough so that their special attack would hit. The creator might not be able to damage the surface, but if Dream’s arrow ripped through first, then there’d be a narrow window where Nightmare’s greatest defense would be gone. In a single spot he’d be vulnerable, which is why they needed to slow him down enough to ensure their hit would work.

You weren’t going to let that happen. Promise be damned, your soul was screaming at you to protect the one you loved, and you were going to heed its call. The ache in your legs went completely ignored, adrenaline pushing you forward with more speed than you thought you could muster. You needed to be faster though; Ink was already there, and Blue had set about corralling Nightmare to keep him still.

Only a few floating chunks of rock were between you and your beloved now, but you still weren’t fast enough. Panic rose once again as you watched Dream draw back his bowstring, the arrow glimmering faintly in the surrounding darkness. Ink stood ready beside him, the paint coating his brush a dangerous shade of red. That same paint had left such horrible burns along your limbs, and you could only imagine the damage it might do to the weakened god of negativity. With Blue running interference and drawing Nightmare’s attention, it was only a matter of time now.

As your feet touched down on the large space rock, several feet from everyone else, you knew that you were out of time. Nightmare was too absorbed in his fight to hear your warning calls, and it would only alert the two and likely cause them to reset before trying again. This attack would only work once though, because once Nightmare knew of their plan, he wouldn’t let it work a second time. That meant that you had one chance to stop them, especially when you saw that Dream was aiming towards his twin’s soul.

Courage and determination welled within your soul, driving you forward despite the risk you were running straight into. Any number of things could go seriously wrong, but… you couldn’t risk them killing him. Nightmare was the bane of the multiverse to many, but he was everything to you. Gritting your teeth, you timed your steps so that you’d only enter Dream’s field of vision after he fired, preventing them from stopping you and trying again. The second he saw you, the god of positivity’s expression changed from one of grim determination to one of shock and horror, his hand reaching out as if he could stop his attack or stop you. His hesitance once again wasn’t present in Ink, the creator wasting no time in flinging the red paint directly after the arrow.

With mere seconds to spare, your outstretched hands made contact with the cool goop that covered Nightmare’s body. All of your momentum and might went into a push, knocking the deity away from the incoming attack. Your lover turned back to look at you the second you made contact, his eye conveying the same shock and horror as Dream’s had when he saw you. All you could do was smile, knowing that you’d managed to save him no matter what danger you’d put yourself in. Nightmare reached out for you just as the arrow whizzed past, its trajectory leaving it slicing past your eyes. Pain bloomed as the minor cuts scratched the outsides of your eyes, but it was nothing compared to what came next. You’d been so concerned about the arrow that you temporarily forgot about Ink. His attack followed as per the Stars’ plan, splattering over the both of you with its acidic effect. The scratches to your eyes had left you temporarily blind, so you weren’t able to see that red paint as it splashed all over your face. The last thing you saw was instead Nightmare, reaching out to you as if to save you from this pain.

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#mc #x reader #nightmare sans #dream sans #ink sans #swap sans #star sanses #bad sanses #established relationship #tw blindness #fighting #violence #saurex works #saurex drabbles

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talesofsonicasura · 2 years

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After watching Sonic the Hedgehog 2, don't worry I ain't going into any spoilers as this focuses on the first movie, I imagined this sorta of insanity.

What if the warp ring Long Claw threw glitched? Instead of Sonic ending up in Green Hills, at the last second it changed to someplace else. Where? Madness Combat's Nevada

Who is the first person our little precious bean runs into? Hank Motherfucking Wimbleton.

Animals, much less something Sonic, being something unheard of in Nevada so Hank becomes very curious about the pocket sized hedgehog. In short, the merc takes him in and Sonic's sweet innocence changes Hank. Yep, the man is on the path to being a disaster dad.

So Sonic ends up growing up around the crew, Deimos, Sanford, Doc and of course Hank. (Hank also acquired a dadbod. Not my art, belongs to @buttery-art hence the link.) Everything is fine until in the middle of Sonic's first official mission, Hank whose currently now a Mag, gets badly hurt. Thinking fast and desperately, the hedgehog throws a Warp Ring with only one thought in mind, someplace safe. Destination? The small town of Green Hills.

Hank is very badly injured so him recovering is gonna take a lot longer without Doc there and Sonic's medical knowledge being limited. So the hedgehog steals medical supplies and essentials to keep both of them alive. This goes on for about a year with Hank nearly fully healed. Then the events of the first movie kick in.

Now Tom has to deal with a hedgehog more traumatized and battle ready alongside his equally traumatized but more violent grunt mentor. The sheriff needs a serious break while these two Nevadans need severe therapy.

If anyone wants to take a spin at this, go ahead! I love to see what people can come up with!

Right now I have major writer's block hence the lack of updates but I hope I can update soon! Until next time folks! Live and Learn as you thrive in the madness.

(Edits will be added when I think of something to add. This is to help those who want to try utilizing this idea.)

Edit: Doc, Sanford, Hank and Deimos each have a Warp Ring given by Sonic. These are meant to be used for an emergency return to base.

Reason Sonic didn't take Hank back to base with the Warp Ring cause said base had been compromised. Everyone had to split up so the A.A.H.W couldn't get them all with Sonic going alongside his mentor Hank. The plan was to regroup and stay on the downlow.

Sonic hasn't returned to the Madcomverse cause one, Hank being at 100% boosts their chance at survival if they do return since the risk of being attacked/ambushed is high. Two, Sonic doesn't how to program his Warp Ring to the Nevada he wants to go. He knows the basics of using the rings but not enough for a situation like this.

Also, Sonic has seen Hank die a few times but even he's worried that the next time could be permanent despite Doc being capable of bringing him back.

Edit 2: Sonic still spies on the people of Green Hills like in the movie. At first, it's to check the people's schedule so he can steal stuff him and Hank needs without getting spotted. Later on, he does because he's very curious about everyone's carefree lifestyle.

There are no kids in Nevada and from what I can assume, the place was already insane since the Sheriff is actually a warlord who just calls himself that. (Guess the place was already apocalyptic before the Improbability Drive made everything even more mad.)

So Sonic never really experienced a peaceful or even normal childhood and is understandably jealous. (The whole crew tried very hard to at least give him some semblance.)

The hedgehog hasn't killed anyone either. A first kill is very hard and life changing for everyone. Thus someone has to be there for him when the time unfortunately comes. But again, the crew tried to keep him from doing that as long as they can, even Hank. The infamous Grunt is still an asshole but Sonic's presence chilled him out some and is a bit softer, mainly around his blue blurred apprentice.

#crossover #idea #sonic the hedgehog #sonic 2020 #sth #sonic the hedgehog movie 2020 #movie sonic #madness combat #mag hank #hank j. wimbleton #hank j wimbleton #madcom hank #sonicasura #tales of sonicasura #tom wachowski #dad!hank #dad!hank j wimbleton #dad!hank j. wimbleton

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lunarianillusion · 3 years

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A change in fate

authors note: Sorry this chapter took a while, writers block is a pain and school takes a lot of time. Still I hope you enjoy this chapter and this story is now also on archive of our own under the same name. Now on with the story.

a maribat fanfic

Chapter 07

Marinette had been greatly relieved when Mist had returned so quickly and seemingly having succeeded in their mission. The miracle box safely tucked in their tail, a ball of memories between the leopard’s jaws and Wayzz sitting upon their silvery head. A small smile graced her lips at the sight.

But the small moment of joy had been shattered when a. unknown presence made themselves known. How had she not noticed them, she was the true holder of the miraculous of emotions, she could feel everyone’s emotions within a six-mile radius clearly. Even if she could not on a person’s scent, she should have been able to sense his emotions long before they made themselves known. So, how had she not been able to sense them following her guardian.

In a quick and flowing motion Royal shifted into her battle stance. Her fan at the ready in one hand miracle box in the other, Mist had her claws out and growled from deep in their throat and Wayzz nuzzled into the female’s neck hiding away from the possible danger. All their eyes focussed on the figure that now slipped out of the shadows.

To a certain degree the wielder of the peafowl was relieved that the intruder was neither Chat Noir nor her replacement. That however did not rule out the possibility that this was another akuma, albeit a better dressed one. The male wore upon a quick glance a near skin-tight suit made out of a reinforced material she could not quite place. His main colors consisted of red and black with a golden yellow coloring for his utility belts, that sat on his waist and crossed over his chest. Overall a decent ensemble, definitely better than what some akumas wore. The only things that really did not sit well with her was the length of the cape and that bloody cowl!

The male raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and moved his head to bear his throat. “I am not here to fight you, Blue Royal,” the stranger stated calmly. “Or should I refer to you by your old identity, Ladybug.”

The blue clad hero went absolutely rigid at this comment as did her companions. How? How did he find out?

Seeming able to read her body language he went on to give her a simple explanation on how he got to this revelation. He told her about how he had been there when the last akuma attacked and had made the connection due to her mannerisms around the so-called heroes and her overall combat experience. For not even someone trained in any form of martial arts, no matter how long they may have trained, would be able to pull of what she did in that little of time without real life experience. And from her reaction he could tell that his theory was correct. Great so she ratted herself out, well done Marinette.

“Who are you?” she more demanded then asked.

“I go by Red Robin and I was formerly known as Robin and protégé of the Batman of Gotham. I have come to Paris to offer you my help in taking Hawkmoth down,” Red Robin told her, while looking straight at the female before him. Though his eyes were covert by the cowl’s white lenses, Mari swore their eyes were locked.

“And how am I to be certain that you are not one of His akumas or accomplices?” The blue clad girl asked skeptically with a cold tone her eyes narrowed into a glare. The tension in the air could almost be touchable as the two continued their stare of.

Red Robin nodded at her reasoning, seeming to understand her suspicions and following cautios manner. “Understandable concerns. Though I doubt I shall be able to put your worries to rest, with just my words. But quite a few people have made my existence public to the world. I hope that when you have seen that you can be assured that I am here to help,” He spoke calmly as he lowered his hands.

“Not very secretive of you to become known to the public, protégé of the Bat,” Royal could not help to comment. It gained a small chuckle from the male before her. “Well the existence of the League is not really a secret either, hence why I were the cowl,” He bantered back. Marinette could not help her lip twitching upward even as she kept her look skeptical. For her nerves were not put to rest.

Since she could not sense his emotions, he must have a strong control over them, she focused her connection to miraculous to look into his soul. It was in correlation with a trick that Duusu had been telling her about during training. How when transformed a true soul can look through the eyes of their kwami and gain the ability to see someone’s soul. It was however a very exhausting technique and she would most likely have a massive headache in the morning, but it was a small price to pay to see if he was a threat.

The only thing giving away her use of this skill was the thin glowing ring of silver surrounding her pupil.

His souls held several shades of blue implying to someone who was loyal and strong of mind. But the colors were dull and several cracks could be seen in the core of his soul and were festering in a malicious black veins. While black could been seen as a color of mystery, which would fit with his secret ID, the way the veins seemed to be invading re-laid to him being hurt greatly. From Blue Marinette could tell though was that the vigilantly infront of her was being sincere to her at the moment. Though it took a second as she got distracted by the sight of his soul.

Still best to play save and do a background check on this ‘protégé of the Batman’ when she got back to her room. “If I were to believe you and you truly are here to help end the reign pf Hawkmoth. How would you be able to help me?” The female asked firmly as she called off the leopard beside her.

“Do not assume me to being rude, but even though you are capable the akuma’s in battle. Far better then your stand in or the mangy cat. I have come to surmise that detective work is not your forte,” Red Robin answered as he took to leaning on the railing. “I was trained in the fields of being a detective, combat and stealth by one of the best that I know of. I believe if we combine both our skills, we will be able to finally to put the plague that Paris is under to rest,” he finished.

He was not wrong she did need help in that department. She could deal with the combat part more easily now than in years past, having learned from experience. Though she had also collected some leads on the possible identity of Hawkbitch, she was unsure on how to follow up on said leads. If he truly was trained by the Bat of Gotham, someone who was considered the number one detective, he would definitely be a useful asset to the mission.

She only had one question left.

“Why now?” The question seemed to startle the vigilante before. The raw emotion in her voice a reflection of her young thirteen-year-old self, sounding so tired and confused. “I sent a message to the league years ago. Why is their only now a response?”

The male’s expression turned soft at her tone of voice and seeming to understand why she would ask this. “I have no excuse to the sheer incompetence of the one who thought your call of distress was nothing more than a prank. The suffering and deaths of the people of Paris is not something to be brushed off as a prank,” he seethed in anger a small flicker of emotion slipping from his control. Telling the blue clad hero of his sincerity.

A beeping sound of the peafowl wielders miraculous rang through the air. Six minutes.

“I get the feeling that our time is limited so I shall get to the point. Will you give us working together a chance?” And that was the question wasn’t it. Could she trust him to help her?

No, she could not, but she needed someone who could dig deep. And if the Bat had trained him his skills in what he mentioned prior would definitely of use to the cause. Still, he was an unknown with strong control of his emotions and even by looking at his soul, she was able to get more information on the male, she did not feel that she had a good read on him. So, this would be a gamble on her part. She needed a second opinion.

Turning her head, she looked at the little turtle god on her shoulder. For while she and Fu had not always had been able to see eye to eye, Wayzz has always been there to come to some sort of compromise. The little kwami always staying level-headed when there was a whirlwind around him and for that she was grateful. So, she knew she could trust him with being her second voice. The kwami and omega duo locked eyes into a silent conversation as Mist kept watch over the anomaly.

The omega’s eyes soon locked back on the vigilante’s masked once, her decision made. Marinette only hoped she would not come to regret this in the future.

“We will meet to compare notes and come to a full partnership arrangement on Wednesday at eleven p.m. at the arc de triomphe. Should there be an akuma attack before that time I want you to focus on evacuating the civilians away from danger. Try not to get spotted by Chat or LB for I belief we both agree they are not to be trusted,” the peafowl wielder informed the male of her decision. She barely made out the smallest amount of tension leaving his shoulders as Red nodded his head in agreement.

“To that we can most certainly agree,” Red Robin voiced. “Then we shall leave further questions to each other for Wednesday.”

The silence that followed his statement gave the vigilante the impression that it was time to leave. However, as he was about to take of the hero Paris called for his attention once more. Turning back to the blue clad female he motioned for her to continue. “Can you make certain no other heroes come to Paris,” her command gained her a curios tilt of the other humans head, question implied but not voiced.

“When I started being a hero, I thought the JL would be able to help, but after some research of the battle tactics they would only bring more problems than actually solve. For most league heroes seem to rely on an emotion power boost,” Red nodded along with her statement gears starting to turn. “And with Hawkmoth feeding on those emotions would make them a liability.”

“Agreed, I for one do not want to fight a mind controlled and upgraded superman,” The cowled male answered giving her some assurance that he would make sure the league would not interfere with Paris.

Being assured things would be stable until they could talk things out in two days, the two bid each other goodnight.

As Red Robin took off into the night Blue Royal took one more look at his soul, but instead of looking at his core she observed the spectral dragon that was coiling around his soul. It was the mark of a true soul. Which led to the question: Was that Timothy?

The nudge of the leopard beside her snapped Marinette out of her head and back to reality. Swiftly she and her companions took off to her nest. She had a lot to think about, to plan for and to do and the night was not getting any younger.

taglist: @moonlightstar64 @iloontjeboontje @mickylikesstuff@myazael @scribblinggraveyard @incredulous-reader@mewwitch@woe-is-me0 @fan-written @coolspidermanmusicflower@heretopasstimebi @jjmjjktth @ichigorose@cmouse @nyx-in-line@chocolatecatstheron @bookgirl14 @toodaloo-kangaroo@iglowinggemma28 @itsmeevie01

#maribat #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #red robin #kwami swap #miraculous ladybug

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epochxp · 3 years

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Epoch Xperience Interviews Nordic Weasel Founder, Ivan Sorensen

Mr. Sorensen needs no real introduction to many miniature wargamers. His company, Nordic Weasel Games, has taken the historical miniatures gaming world by storm, and he’s become the force on Wargames Vault. His formula of “substance over flash” has produced good games for a very reasonable price, and he has taken full advantage of PDF technology to produce a quality product one can buy and have in your (virtual hands) the next day.

Without further ado, I give you Ivan Sorensen:

Biography

My name is Ivan Sorensen, and I am a game designer and self-publishing writer of miniatures games, as well as the odd role-playing game. Under the moniker of Nordic Weasel Games, I have worked as a game writer for close to 7 years.

I am an avid player of board games, miniatures games, role-playing games, video games, and anything else I can get my hands on. I have spent half my life on this planet in Denmark, where I was born, and half in the United States, where I currently reside. I am married, have one kid and two cats named Scruffy and Lancelot.

Unlike a lot of historical games writers, many of my formative miniatures gaming experiences actually came from science fiction games, so I suppose that has given me a little bit of a different perspective.

So, how did you get started in writing rules? Was there an “aha” moment, or did you fall into it?

At the risk of sounding cheesy, I have basically always created little dice and board games for myself, using Lego pieces or other things that we had available, usually based on video games I had read about in magazines or other ideas like that.

When I was 12 or so, I remember getting a copy of White Dwarf magazine from a local gaming club I had joined, and it blew my mind. We had some limited exposure to the idea of space marines and all these things from the Milton Bradley Hero Quest and Space Crusade board games, but the idea of battle games played without a board, using miniatures and dice was too much to resist. I knew I had to get into this, and as I had no money for it, I sat down to write a game I could play with my Space Crusade figures, which would look as much like what I imagined Warhammer 40.000 would be like.

Since then, I had pretty much always been the “rules guy” in the gaming groups I was part of, whether we were playing miniatures games or RPG’s, so it just came naturally over time, I suppose. As I got access to the internet and later got access to ordering things from the UK or US, I devoured every game I could get my hands on and was even remotely interested in.

The start to writing games that were any good was my own attempt at creating a World War 1 game system (titled Trench Storm). I had shared it online, and to my great surprise, it began catching people’s attention and got a (very) small following, with people even purchasing miniatures to play it. Eventually, I was contacted by the US distributor for IT Miniatures, who offered to print it to promote their 20mm figure range. The rest is, as they say, history. Once in a great while, a copy of that game still pops up on eBay, it seems!

How did Nordic Weasel Games come to be?

So that story took place right around the time I moved to the United States. After moving, I had a lengthy period where I did not have my work permit yet, so game writing seemed like an obvious distraction, resulting in Fast and Dirty, a sci-fi rules set that you still see mentioned online here and there.

As the years went on, I kept tinkering and building things but mostly for my own enjoyment. Sometime during the fall of 2013, I started seriously working on a new game system for WW2 skirmish actions that I felt had some real potential to go places. At the time, I worked at a relatively dead-end middle management job at an incredibly toxic information technology company. You know the sort of job, where you have been there for too long, and you hate every minute of it.

Come the spring, I decided to take a gamble that I could make enough money from game sales to make it worth pursuing and quit. I figured if I could find a way to do it without putting money on the line, then if it all bombed, I could just walk away and find something else to do in life.

Consequently, Five Men in Normandy was released on June 15, 2014, and as of today, we are still here!

What is in the future for Nordic Weasel?

Hopefully, many big things! The biggest priority for 2021 specifically is to get into print books, though there are a lot of stumbling blocks in terms of layout requirements and so on.

I always keep a list of projects I would like to do, though I try not to talk about them too much in case they fall through. I am the sort of guy who always starts with 20 ideas, so by the time the unworkable ones have been weeded out, there are 2 or 3 left.

What I can say is that I am actively looking at fantasy miniatures battles, and I would love to do more WW1 and Black Powder era gaming material.

The real big question is that I am also very much at a point where there are just too many things to do it all alone. I cannot write 4 or 5 new games, support an entire back catalogue, and update old titles all by my lonesome, so I look forward to trying to solve that in the future. I suppose this is a good problem to have, but it is certainly also an intimidating one!

Is there a period of history you want to write rules for but have not?

We have worked extensively with the two world wars and the black powder era in general, as well as 20th century-to-modern era battles, and with Knyghte, Pyke and Sworde we even delved into medieval warfare.

The one that stands out as something that would be fun to do is World War 1 air combat, complete with goggles and scarf flapping in the wind. A little romanticized sure, but great fun, and there is a lot of fantastic models available.

For a historical era I have not touched on at all, I would say that while I have done games that cover it among other 19th century conflicts, a dedicated American Civil War set is something I would be very keen to do.

There are a lot of fantastic rules out there for the period, of course, but I feel like the “Weasel” approach of being solo-friendly and campaign-oriented could carve out a nice space of that market. Plus, I find the era quite fascinating. Growing up in Denmark, I was never really raised with a particular view of the conflict, but having married into a proud Vermont family, it is, of course, unavoidable.

Can you tell our readers what goes into rules writing?

I think this is something that is intensely personal, and the rationale for writing something can be varied: It may be due to sensing an opening in the hobby space that does not seem to be catered to currently. It may be that I have a personal passion for a given setting or era, or it may simply be that I have a clever game mechanic and want to build a game around it.

The process for me usually starts with sketching out a page or two of keywords, mechanics, and things I’d like to hit on a notepad. Then I work on building it out with simple sketches for the main areas of the mechanics: Activations, movement, shooting, morale, and so forth. Basically, carving out the cornerstones of the game system. At this stage, it is entirely possible it feels like it’s not going anywhere, and it goes in the bin.

If the core idea seems to have merit in this skeleton form, it’s time to test it out with some generic troops and see if it actually feels fun on the table. From there, you just build out from it: Get other people to read and play it, read it out loud to yourself, etc. Figure out what parts need ironing out and improving and which are good.

It is really all an iterative process. Once I know the game has legs to stand on, I start writing out the table of contents in advance, so I can “fill in the blanks” as I go. If I know I am going to have a section later for off-map support, I can keep that in mind when I am developing each piece of the mechanics and so forth.

Eventually, any project hits “The Suck (TM).” This is whatever part you hate doing the most, whether it is layout or proofreading or points systems or whatever. For me, it is terrain rules, funny enough. I never read that section of a rulebook, and I never enjoy writing it, but you must. “The Suck” is where your game will probably die because if you let it overcome you, you will put the book down, and every time you click on the word processor, you will immediately be faced with it. The best way to defeat “The Suck” in my experience is caffeine and not letting up: When it starts rearing its ugly head, it is time to keep going and don’t stop until you are through with it.

Has desktop publishing and PDF only supplements changed the face of the hobby? Has it affected the quality of the product we see today?

Absolutely yeah. It’s not that long ago that a game being available in PDF was a novelty, whereas today, if a game is NOT available in PDF, you are going to lose sales.

I think the barrier of entry has also dropped dramatically. Even a basic word processing package can churn out a PDF document that you can distribute online or sell. Of course, with proper page layout software, you can achieve much greater results (as some of my friends are rarely missing a chance to tell me), but you need to examine what your skill limit is. Any tool has a skill cap, to borrow a video game term. If you are not currently good enough at what you do to push up against the limitations of your software, burning 200 dollars on new apps will not make your books any better.

It is funny, though, because the wargaming field is so diverse in the type of things we see. You can pick up relatively big-name games that are incredibly plain-looking: Black and white, no art, rudimentary layout. Then right next to it, you see a PDF that is full-color, original artwork, and gorgeous. And the two can be viewed as equal value to the audience.

Of course, eye candy DOES sell, but I think once you are beyond the Warhammer circles, gamers become a lot more content-focused.

What are your favorite historical periods and why?

The 19th Century, the two world wars and the Russian Civil War.

Really, the whole era from circa 1910 to 1925 or so is fascinating to me: It is, of course, the transition of the old, romanticized world to the world of modern warfare, as well as being incredibly diverse in the sort of things you can see. The Russian Civil War sees tanks and armored cars, partisan bands, nationalist militias, Red and White guards, Cossack cavalry armies, Anarchists, and anything else you can shake a stick at. It is really a wargamers heaven for finding odd units to model up on the gaming table.

Honestly, my love of history, in general, comes from one source: “All Quiet on the Western Front.” I think anyone with a passion for history has that moment where they realize that history is not about abstract concepts and kings and dates but is about real people who lived and breathed and had dreams and hopes. “All Quiet” was that for me, and it left a life-long impression on me when I read it as a teenager a few years from the age of the characters in the book.

What do you see for the future of historical miniature wargaming?

Oof, that is a dangerous question. I think I managed to predict the rise of “Warband” level games (games where you play a small force in skirmish actions and with some level of character progression between games). Right now, that idea has set the fantasy and sci-fi miniatures scenes on fire, with everyone churning out their own version of the concept.

In historical gaming, there are elements of it, but it has not been embraced to the same extent, possibly due to the grognard bias against skirmish games. I think if I had to put money on something, I would say watch out for historical skirmish games with campaign aspects or character progression in the next year or three.

I also think solo gaming is going to continue to gain in popularity and respectability, with more games developed primarily or even specifically for solo play. I am super excited to see this field because there is a lot of things that can be done here with how enemies arrive on the table, fog of war, and so forth, which is not possible in a conventional opposed game.

Playtesting, how important is it?

Very, but it’s also very misunderstood. I see people post all the time on forums about how they have been testing their game rules for 5 years. That sounds very impressive, but if you are only getting together 3 or 4 times a year in that time frame, you are basically starting over each time. Additionally, just playing the game with your own group is fine to iron out the basic problems of a game, but it will lose its value very quickly.

To get actual feedback, give the game to people who cannot ask you questions and let them figure it out. Now your text must stand on its own feet and must work without you being there to explain the intentions. That is the real test. I would say three games played by strangers is worth more than ten games with your usual Saturday group.

Of course, tracking down people who can understand the rules, will play the game, [and] report back to you, AND aren’t crazy is a challenge. If you post online, 50 people will say they would love to, and of those, two will read the book. Once you find reliable people who can give you good feedback, cling to them for dear life.

What are the benefits and pitfalls of self-publishing your own wargaming rules?

The biggest advantage is, of course, that you are in charge. What you want in the book goes, if you want a supplement, it will happen, and so forth. Additionally, your game will reflect what you wanted it to be. I think in [self-publishing], you get a lot clearer creative visions and indie gamers tend to gravitate towards that: A game that has something to say on the topic is extremely attractive, even if you disagree with a particular conclusion.

I try to do as much myself as I can, though, of course, I do rely on outside sources for things like artwork, feedback, etc. Part of that is that this way, I know I can support the product down the road: If I want to fix a rule where we came up with a better way of doing it, or I want to add a new section, I can do that.

The downside, of course, is that you are on your own: Your art is as good as your own wallet can make it, your book looks as good as you can make it (unless you pay for it), and so forth. You also must promote it yourself. If you are writing for something like Osprey, they have marketing power and money to put behind the project.

Anything else you would like to say to our readers?

Before you write a game, ban yourself from reading any game on the same topic for a few months. If you are writing a WW2 tank game, put all your WW2 games in a box and do not open it. You should be spending that time immersing yourself in the topic in the form of books, music, documentaries, or anything else. Never ever another game.

Also, it cannot hurt to blast some metal albums, at least in my experience.

At Epoch Xperience, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse Epoch Xperience’s service on our parent site, SJR Research.

(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)

#Wargame Miscellaneous #interview #wargaming #history #gaming

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ask-the-chan-family · 4 years

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Star Wars story for De-Writer and Wind-the-mama-cat

Somewhere inside the Jedi Academy library, Jedi Master Marchhare D’Writer was in the middle of reading some important documents, which regarding some information for the coming up meeting at the galactic republic. While reading the documents, Master D’Writer notice that his communicator was going off. He normally have it off while inside the library, but he had it on for a moment, since he was waiting for someone that he was meant to speak with. Master D’Writer grab his communicator, and then activate it. From the communicator show a hologram of his apprentice, Jedi Knight Wind Whisp. Master D’Writer was pleased to see her again, especially since she had been gone for an important. He started to speak with her, and see how she been doing. Master D’Writer: Ah Wind! It so good to see my old apprentice. It almost felt like forever, since we last chat with each other. Wind Whisp: it only been two months master, D’Writer, but it good to see you too. I do apology for the long wait to send you some messages, but I’m still in the middle of dealing with an important mission, and I don’t have much time to chat. Master D’Writer: Oh! And what sort of mission your dealing with? Wind Whisp: One of the Jedi Master needed my help to be their guide at my home planet of Cathar. Apparently we had some information that Count Dooku send some spies to cause some trouble in the area. To make matter worst, one of the clone soldiers were able to spot some battle droids form a base, and might try to attack one of the nearby villages. Master D’Writer: oh dear, that does sound like a busy mission your dealing with. You sure you don’t want me to help you out there? Wind Whisp: that would be great, but I have Master Thomas, and his daughter Jedi Knight Mia Writer to help me out. Master D’Writer: that good to hear, with Thomas, and Mia there you should have no problem dealing with the situation. However, I’m sort of surprise that his youngest daughter, Mia is there, and not Dashie. Wind Whisp: you mean his eldest daughter, Dashie. She actually still at the Jedi Temple. Dashie is having some trouble dealing with her little sister, Rebecca. Master D’Writer: I’m guessing it had something to do with her twin sister, Mia on a mission, and she is not with them. Wind Whisp: how did you know? Master D’Writer: I don’t need force ability to sense something is wrong. Wind Whisp: *she laugh*and that why you’re the Jedi Master. But yes, I spoke with Mia, and she told me that her twin sister didn’t past test, and become a Jedi Knight. Master D’Writer: Rebecca not passing the test, the girl have a lot of potentials to be Jedi Knight, especially being the only few people that Mace Windu would respect, and that man is hard to impress Wind Whisp: I would believe it, even Master Windu have a hard time dealing with my attitude at my younger years. But seriously though, I didn’t get the full detail of why, Rebecca failed the test, but it might have something to do with her emotions. Master D’Writer: you think her Force is unstable? Wind Whisp: maybe, but you know my hunches Master, they tend to be true, but in their odd way. Master D’Writer think for a moment before he answer back to, Wind Whisp. Master D’Writer always trusted, Wind hunches, including the past mission they were on, which most of her hunches were able to saved them from danger situation. This hunch, Wind was feeling, might be something in the Force, but he need to speak with, Rebecca, and get a better answer. Master D’Writer look back to Wind, and tell her that he will speak to her. Master D’Writer: I’m going to listen to your hunch, and have a little chat with, Rebecca. Maybe I might get a better answer, and see if I can help her. Wind Whisp: are you sure you can handle it master, you not exactly at your prime these days. Master D’Writer: just because I’m old, doesn’t mean I can handle myself. Besides, I prefer to use my words, then any combat. If I know Thomas daughters, they are willing to listen to a friend of their father. Wind Whisp didn’t say anything else, but trust in her master, like he had with her. Wind wave back to her master, and turn off the communicator, and continue with her mission. Master D’Writer think for a second to see what he need to do, before he can confront with, Rebecca. He use his communicator again, and see if he can chat with Jedi Knight, Dashie. He was able to find her, seeing her hologram self, standing by what look like the main doors to the Jedi Temple training grounds. Master D’Writer wasn’t sure what going on, but speak to Dashie anyway. Master D’Writer: Dashie, is everything going alright? Dashie Writer: greeting, Master D’Writer. I wish I could say that things are fine, but just having a tiny issue with my little sister, Rebecca. Master D’Writer: she trap herself inside the Jedi Temple training ground. Dashie Writer: yes, and she somehow was able to lock the doors as well. I try to bypass the security door, but nothing happening, even using my force powers not working, since she must be using something to block my ability. Master D’Writer: able to block Force abilities, that something I never heard off before. Dashie Writer: which is why it sort of stop her from becoming a Jedi Knight. Master D’Writer: what do you mean by that? Dashie Writer: …. Sigh, I shouldn’t tell you this, since dad told me to keep this a secret. But you see, Rebecca, and Mia mother wasn’t an ordinary person, she was one of those ancient Jedi that study both the light and the dark. Master D’Writer: wait, are you saying that their mother a Grey Jedi, as in something that, Qui-Gon Jinn once study on. Dashie Writer: yes! Rebecca, and Mia mom use to be one, and learn some of forbidden arts that the Jedi Order don’t use anymore. Before she disappear, she left them some scrolls, which had the teaching of the forbidden Force powers, but dad told them to never use them, no matter how good they were. Master D’Writer: I see, Thomas must the known about these forbidden Force ability, and wanted to make sure that his daughters would never give them a try. But I still like to know why, Rebecca went against her father wishes, and done it anyway. Dashie Writer: because, Rebecca wanted to be a Jedi Knight, and be her father guardian with Mia. But, Mia was a lot more skillful in both combat, and the force, which gave her the edge she needed to be a Jedi Knight. Master D’Writer: and because of that, Rebecca try to use her mother trump card, and gain a tiny edge to be a Jedi Knight. There is an old saying that I once told my apprentice, whenever we use a trump card attack. Dashie Writer: I remember, a trump card come in handy for tight situation, but it never the ultimate weapon. Father always tell me that every time I tried to come up some good ideas for training. Master D’Writer: you see, I always give good advice. But now I want to give your sister some advice as well, if she is willing to listen. Dashie Writer: she would, but the only way she going to open those door if dad was there to speak with her. Unless you have a bright idea in mind, I’m all ears. Master Writer: hmmm I think I might. Do you still have that training droid that you build for Jedi combat training? Dashie Writer: you mean the prototype. I think so, but why you ask? Master Writer: I have an idea, but I need you to get the training droid ready for this plan to work out. Dashie Writer sure why, Master D’Writer want the droid for, but she did what he said, and go back to her quarters to get it ready. Somewhere inside the Jedi Temple training room, Padawan Rebecca Writer was sitting in the center of the training ground, trying to meditation. Each time she tried to clear her mind, but the event of what she did from the Jedi trials, kept on coming back, forcing her to remember for what she did. Rebecca open her eyes, and slam her hand on the floor out of anger. Without warning, Rebecca didn’t notice that her anger accidently release her force push to knock down a few items in the area. Rebecca sigh to herself, knowing that she let her anger came out, something that she been trying to keep control. At a young age, Rebecca had a hard time to control her anger, especially knowing how dangerous her anger can be, when she mix it with her force powers. Rebecca always relied on her friends, and family for support, and in time she was able to have a better handle with it. But once she learn that one force move from her mother, Rebecca emotion had change a bit, made her think about the whole thing of the Jedi Order ways. Rebecca grab her lightsaber she had on the side, and activate it. The pure light from the saber was showing a dark shade purple. Rebecca remember getting the purple crystal from her mother as a gift, before she gone missing. She wanted to use the green light saber like her father, but yet part of her felt that the purple saber was calling to her. Before she got the chance to think a bit further, Rebecca felt someone was inside the training room. Rebecca thought she had the whole place sealed, but they would find a way. Rebecca didn’t bother to look, just speak to them, thinking it was her older sister, Dashie was here to see her. Rebecca Writer: if you came here to lecture me elder sister, I’m not really in the good mood for one. Wind Whisp: well then, lucky for you that I’m not really the lecture type. Rebecca was shock to see her friend, Jedi Knight Wind Whisp was here. She remember that she left with her and twin sister not too long ago, and wouldn’t be back for months. Rebecca got up from the floor, and speak to Wind more. Rebecca Writer: Wind! I can’t believe you’re here. I though you was on an important mission with my father, and twin sister. Wind Whisp: I was, but when I heard rumors that some Padawan was using some forbidden force powers, I need to stop by, and have a little chat about it. Rebecca Writer: Sigh, not you too. Look, I already apology for using a force ability during the trial. Wind Whisp: I know that you apology, but it still doesn’t excuse you from doing it the first place. Rebecca Writer: I know, and I felt terrible for what I did. But you of all people should understand why I had to do it Wind Whisp: of course I do, Rebecca. You’re the type of person that work really hard, and want to become a Jedi Knight. Rebecca Writer: not only that. I also wanted to be father protector. I know it sound strange, but Mia and I made a sworn oath together that if we become Jedi Knight, we will father only protectors, and no one will try to harm our family. Wind Whisp: I see, but now you felt betrayed that your sister became a Jedi, and left you behind you done everything in your power to become a Jedi Knight, you willing to use a forbidden force power, even if to break your father trust. Rebecca stood quite for a moment when she mention her father, she think a bit longer, knowing that she broken her father trust. Whisp look at, Rebecca seeing that she not moving at all, which give her the opportunity to get close. Once she reach up to her, Whisp sat down on the floor in front of Rebecca, and try to talk to her more. Wind Whisp: listen to me, Rebecca. I know you didn’t meant to harm the person from the trial, or try to break your father promise. But you got to remember that there is no such thing of short cut to reach success. If you want to be a Jedi Knight, you had to remember the fundamental of becoming a Jedi. Rebecca: I know about the fundamental of becoming a Jedi, I study them every day. The oath, the training, the studies, I did everything that needed to be a Jedi. But no matter how much I try, I wasn’t enough. Wind Whisp: I know you done those thing, but there was one thing that you were missing from your training. Rebecca: what that? *she notice that Whisp held her hand, and place it by Rebecca chest* um what are you doing. Wind Whisp: pointing where you were missing. Rebecca: really! But I don’t understand what it meant. Wind Whisp: *she laugh* it the heart, Rebecca, the number one thing that every Jedi need is the heart. Rebecca: the heart, but I don’t see that in the studies. I though all Jedi need to keep their emotion to be sealed away. Wind Whisp: it true, but in the olden days, there was a time where the Jedi Knights once relied with their emotion to help them in tough situation. I know the emotion can lead to anger and hate, but emotion can show happiness, and love towards the people they care about. That how your twin sister was able to reach the rank of Jedi Knight. Rebecca: ……. I see, even with all the knowledge I had learn to be a Jedi, my sister was lucky enough to had her emotion the right path to help her. But I had my emotion on the right path too, it should had help me to become a Jedi Wind Whisp: true, but you were impatient, and your emotion lead you doing something that was the wrong path. Rebecca: …… Wind Whisp: ….. Sigh, Rebecca, you got to remember that you’re a good Jedi, and you can reach being a Jedi Knight. All you have to do is try again, but you had to promise not to use that force ability again. Rebecca: but what if I try to do it again, all I want is to be a Jedi to protect my family. Wind Whisp: the use that feeling. You one of the smartest people that I know, much smarter than most of the Jedi Councel. Rebecca: smarter than Master Yoda? Wind Whisp: ok maybe not at his levels, but still, you will do well, just don’t bring yourself down for what you done. Rebecca smile at Whisp, and gave her hug, thanking her for the kind words. Whisp hug her back, but before she could say anything, her entire body started to phase out, which showing nothing more than a training droid. Rebecca look at the training droid, and she was a little upset to see it in front of her. Rebecca got up from the floor, and demand the training droid to tell her what it doing here. Rebecca: training droid, what the meaning of this. What are you doing here, and where is Whisp? Training Droid: my apology Master Rebecca, I was following orders from Master Dashie, and help De-Writer to speak with you. Rebecca: speak with me, you telling me I was talking to Master De-Writer who was acting like, Whisp the whole time. Master De-Writer: indeed you were, and I had to say my little plan actually works. Rebecca jump a little to see, Master De-Writer was inside the Jedi Temple training room. She was about to move a bit further, but she felt someone was standing behind her. That someone was happened to be her older sister, Dashie. Dashie smile at her, letting her know that she was going anywhere. Dashie Writer: nice try Becky, but you not going anywhere this time. Rebecca: sister, but how you were able to get inside? Master De-Writer: while we were talking, you must the lower your guard down a little, which gave your sister enough time to unlock the doors, and gain access the training room. Rebecca: I can’t believe you guys would do something like this. Dashie Writer: we didn’t need to do that kind of tactics, if you just let us in, and we can talk about it. Rebecca: I know, but I just needed some space is all. I’m not in the mood to be lecture all the time. Master De-Writer: we know, that why I talk to you in more of a friendly approach. Course I had to use the training droid, and use the holo image of my apprentice. But it got the job done. Rebecca: of course it did, but your words were wise as always. Thank you for talking to me. Master De-Writer: my pleasure, Rebecca. Just remember that you have friends that will help you, and the force to guide you as well. Rebecca: Indeed. Dashie Writer: but that force won’t protect you from all the trouble you had done. The next two weeks you’re going to be mopping the Jedi training room, and double training as well Rebecca: oh come on, can you give me a little break. Dashie Writer: want me to make three weeks? Rebecca: …. No mam Dashie Writer: no mam what Rebecca: no Master Dashie Dashie Writer: that more like it. The End. this story was done for @ask-de-writer and @wind-the-mama-cat

#ask uncle #fan fiction #Fan Fiction Writing #star wars #writing

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vercopaanir · 4 years

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This is probably a silly question 🥺 but do you ever get writer's block and if so, how do you deal with it? I feel like I struggle so much with focusing and pressuring myself into writing that it doesn't come out the way I would like for it to. Do you listen to music or just prefer a silent background? I'm just genuinely curious since TLM is written so beautifully and you're constantly updating it. It literally takes me a week to write a 5K chapter.

This is not a silly question at all.

Unfortunately, I have a lot of thoughts about this, so they’ll be under a cut!

I get writer’s block in various forms. Typically, it’s one of two kinds.

The first (and rarest for me) kind is when there is just a complete blank as to what I want to do with the story. This can be really frustrating if you don’t know your personal rhythm in the creative process, but it can also be really fun to discover what inspires you. I call it letting the story “steep.”

Usually, I need to flush it out with more when this happens. The character needs to want something, the conflict doesn’t have high enough stakes, etc. The Lovely Moons didn’t happen on a whim, trust me. I spent nearly a month thinking on it, developing the character, gathering bits and pieces of lore, and doing general research.

Recently, @di-kut and I compared how we prep our stories. She is very visual because she’s also an artist, so she told me she likes to make mood boards, finds pictures, and even makes art! I’m not as visual, because everything is in my head so I’ll never really find the pictures I’m wanting. So I end up frustrated. I personally prefer making playlists for my stories like it’s a movie soundtrack, and I tend to only listen to those songs when I write. The Lovely Moons has a lot of empowering and dystopian inspired songs on it, because the main character was a slave and overcomes a lot as a person.

If you’re into visuals, I say make a folder and save some images that inspire you. Costumes or clothes your characters might where, scenery where certain plot points happen, pictures of people you envision for different characters. If you want to make a playlist, start with some movies or TV show soundtracks that move you and pick through there.

The second kind of writer’s block, and the one I most often fight with, is when a scene just isn’t coming together the way I want it to. I know that I want to get the story from Point A to Point B, but it just doesn’t feel right, or it’s like pulling teeth.

There are several ways to deal with this.

-Write a few sentences, even if you don’t think they’re good. Just get them into the document, as much as you can manage, and save and close it. Go back to it later, or even the next day. Sometimes you can’t force it to happen, and that’s natural and completely okay! What two sentences you can manage today might help spark you tomorrow to write 5k out of nowhere.

-Accept that what you’re writing down is your first draft, and if you’re worried it might suck, it probably does. This is also okay. It’s supposed to suck and be imperfect. Editing yourself will always stop you from writing. That isn’t writer’s block, it’s fear of failure. Don’t listen to it! Just write. Honestly, this is probably the most important thing that has gotten me through writing TLM. Just getting it down and writing a little bit each day. There have been some days I can only manage a sentence, but it’s the best sentence I’ve written in a while. The more you do it, the easier it comes, and the less often you’ll find your blocked.

-So, you’ve done the previous two steps, and the scene still isn’t working. Well, friend, you are a real writer and are now in the arena of the story trying to tell YOU where it needs to go. And you should listen to it! I know that sounds super cheesy, but it’s true. There have been several times in writing TLM that I expected a scene to go a certain way, and it’s not working because my gut is trying to tell me “Yeah, this isn’t natural” or in character, or flowing. Those are your instincts, and you need to listen to them.

What I’ve done is sometimes open a new document and say to myself, “Self, what would happen if instead of Din shooting Toro Calican, Cyare did it instead?” And then I write that, and boom. It works, it flows, it makes narrative sense.

Sometimes you have to throw yourself a curve ball and be open to having your plans be changed for you. It can suck at first, but when you feel that rhythm take over, it’s worth it. And if you’re not sure what to change or tinker with, try a few things. Does the scene start in the woods and you need to be at the ocean? Try starting the scene somewhere else. Does your character need to go from peaceful to yelling? Start the scene with the character already yelling.

I’ve had several chapters be born from what I only expected to be a sentence, and I’ve had several chapters become a paragraph. And it ends up working out to the story’s benefit, because if something needs to be longer, the words will come. If you’re finding you’re struggling to find the words for something, it probably doesn’t need to be as long as you think it does.

And, two of the biggest weapons to combat writer’s block are this: read and befriend writers!

Read the kinds of stories you’re trying to write! We will only ever grow as writers if we continue to write and continue to read. Reading and supporting other peoples’ art will inspire you and it will also help you carve out your own style.

Being able to talk about your stories and ask for feedback from other writers is imperative to becoming a better author. You’ll never change, never grow, never get better without someone you can count on that you feel comfortable with discussing ideas. Sometimes they’ll be GOLDEN ideas, and sometimes you’ll be talking about Paz Vizla sipping a capri sun and going by in heelies. But it’s a huge confidence boost when you can befriend awesome people by supporting each other’s work, and it helps sometimes to talk out the kinks with someone else.

I hope something in this long, long answer was helpful for you, my love. Be kind to yourself, don’t beat yourself up, and just keep writing! ❤️❤️❤️

#anonymous #asks

9 notes · View notes

sakumosowainthirst · 5 years

Note

Odin teaching Ophelia her first spell

BABY’S FIRST SPELL, I LOVE IT! Also, SO SORRY this took so long to fill, I’ve been in a writer’s block/busy period.

“Babe, I’m not so sure about this,” Corrin said with an anxious frown as she wrangled a squirming two-year-old Kana in her lap.

“Mamaaaa!” Ophelia whined, fists on her hips and her cheeks puffed out in a pout. “I’m seven now, I’m big!”

“But magic isn’t a toy, Ophelia,” Corrin said, handing Kana a doll to preoccupy him so he’d settle.

“Worry not, beloved,” Owain said with a soft smile as he dug in his bag for the tome. “I selected wind spells for her first proper foray into the arcane arts. The most she can do is rustle some tree leaves.”

“Mama, Phelia big girl,” said Kana, cuddling the plush dragon in his small arms. “Big girl magic.”

“That’s right, thank-you, Kana,” Ophelia said with a triumphant nod.

Outnumbered, Corrin sighed. She and Owain had come to their children’s Deeprealm for a picnic to celebrate Ophelia’s birthday, and now that the meal was complete, it was time for Ophelia’s first time using real magic. Owain had promised the girl this treat without consulting Corrin beforehand, and while she trusted Owain always had their daughter’s safety in mind, it still made Corrin a little anxious. True, Ophelia had long-since mastered the children’s spells—conjuring bubbles and flower petals and little sparks of light—and Corrin agreed with Owain that the children should be trained in various combat principles, but something about her little girl taking this next step struck a parental chord of unease inside her.

“Please be careful,” Corrin said, eyeing Owain as he clambered to his knees to stand.

“Everything’s fine, Corr, I promise,” he said, leaning over and smooching her cheek. “Owain Dark would never jeopardize the safety of his darling little ones.”

With a gentle sigh, Corrin nodded. “I know. Just don’t get too excited and overdo it, okay?”

“You have my word,” Owain said with a grin, stealing another cheek-peck before standing. He turned to his daughter and tucked the tome by his hip, straightening into a more serious posture. “All right, Ophelia. Today you embark on the path towards sorcery! I’m sure you understand this is a massive undertaking and should not be accepted lightly.”

“Yes!” Ophelia said, standing at attention, her arms flanking her sides. “You and Mama told me not to fool around with magic, not even my toy tomes.”

“And hitherto this moment, you have shown respectable responsibility,” said Owain, nodding at her. “You never leave your books lying around for Kana to discover, and you’ve only used them while supervised by myself, your mother, or your guardians. Very commendable, Chosen Heroine Ophelia Dusk.”

Ophelia blushed, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ve done everything you’ve taught me, Papa!”

“And I’m certain you’ll continue to impress, my first-born!” he said, mirroring her grin. “So now, without further ado, let’s start with the basics.” He walked several paces from the picnic blanket with Ophelia, and the two faced one another. “Harnessing magic, my darling, takes a great amount of discipline and control,” said Owain, opening the tome and leafing to the proper page. “Used incorrectly, you can cause great harm. Even the simplest wind spell, if concentrated enough, can slice through armor.” Owain demonstrated this by extending a hand and casting a sharp gust at a nearby bush, snapping a twig off it that plopped to the ground. “Utilized delicately, the same spell can be less powerful than the gentlest breeze,” he continued, casting a small puff of air at Ophelia that barely rustled her hair, causing the girl to giggle. “As a novice mage, you will most likely not have this sort of control. However, I’d like you to demonstrate any amount of wind you can conjure.” Bookmarking the page with his thumb, Owain turned the tome out to Ophelia, who reverently took it from him. “The spell you need is here,” he said, indicating the symbols on the page. “You’ve been studying your magic runes, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Papa,” Ophelia said with a nod, focusing on the page.

“Then I’d like you to hit me with your best gust.”

“Owain!” Corrin shouted, eyebrows knitting together. “You just got finished explaining how this sort of thing could be dangerous!”

“Relax, beloved, I’m sure at her level, Ophelia can at best conjure a mild breeze,” Owain said with a hand raised in supplication.

Corrin gave him a leer that clearly stated she didn’t like this but sighed nonetheless. “So long as you’re sure.”

“All right, Ophelia, give me your best shot!” Owain said, planting his fists on his hips. “The Chosen Hero is braced for your mightiest gale!”

Ophelia glanced between the book and her father a few times before taking her stance. Bringing her hand up into casting position, she recited the spell.

Nothing happened.

“Remember, pronunciation is important, too, Ophelia,” Owain instructed. “Give it another try.”

She did, but still, nothing. Unsure, she looked from her father to her mother.

“You can do it, honey,” Corrin said with an encouraging smile. “Just concentrate.”

“Yes, focus is another important element of—”

Ophelia’s third attempt produced a gust so forceful that it caught the unprepared Owain completely unawares, cutting off his comment and knocking him flat on his back. For the space of a few seconds, no one moved. Ophelia stood with her palm still outstretched, eyes wide, and Corrin’s jaw slackened a fraction.

“Oh my gods!” said Corrin, setting Kana aside and scrambling to her feet. “Babe, are you okay??”

“Papa fall down!” Kana exclaimed as he toddled after his mother.

Sitting up, Owain gave his head a brisk shake and ruffled his hair, momentarily stunned.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Corrin asked anxiously as she hovered over him.

“Papa, owie?” Kana asked. He turned to Ophelia and then back to Owain, tilting his head. “‘Phelia give Papa owie?”

“Papa, I’m so sorry!” Ophelia said as she approached, eyes pleading apology. “I didn’t control things like you said, and I—”

Owain accepted Corrin’s assistance to his feet and dusted his clothes, holding up a hand to silence everyone. Rounding on Ophelia, he fixed her with a stern gaze. “Ophelia,” he said, tone serious, causing the girl to flinch in preparation for a scolding. “That. Was. AMAZING.” Before Ophelia could react, Owain swooped her into his arms and spun her above his head in a circle, laughing vibrantly. “To think my daughter could conjure such a powerful gale on her first try! You, my little one, are destined to become a powerful mage!”

Relieved, Ophelia giggled and enjoyed her father’s playful spinning. “Just like you, Papa!”

“Indeed!” Owain said, holding Ophelia high in the air by the armpits. “Together we shall astound the world with our arcane prowess!”

“Papa, up!” Kana said, tugging on Owain’s pant leg. He stretched his arms up at his father. “Me too, me too!”

“You too, huh?” Owain said with a toothy grin, gently placing Ophelia on the ground and lifting Kana into the air as well, laughing along with the toddler’s shriek of joy. “You’ll shock and amaze too, won’t you, my boy? Owain Dark’s progeny will change the world, just you wait!”

Giggling, Corrin joined Owain’s side as he gave Kana a nose kiss before setting him on the ground again. “I suppose my inheritance doesn’t count for much, does it?” she said with a shrewd grin.

“But of course, my dragonlily!” said Owain, framing her cheeks and plastering a smooch on her lips. “It’s because of you our darling children are twice as amazing.”

Kana pulled at his father’s trousers again. “Papa, Mama up, too!”

A devious smile curled Owain’s lips, and Corrin’s eyes widened. “No. Owain, no. No, no no nooo—!”

The sound of four distinct joyful giggles echoed on the breeze.

31 notes · View notes

coinelot · 5 years

Photo

Unfortunately we didn’t have time to actually collect fic recs from all guests during the convention, but a bunch of them sent in fic recs to us via email afterwards, and we’d like to share the results with everyone. All in one post, that’s going to be long, but you’ll have them all in one place :).

Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Home Like Here

by @pendragoff, 3,594 words, Teen+

Sometimes at night Arthur pretends Merlin's laying in the bed beside him, fast asleep.

Such Fractured Shadows

by i_claudia, 24,625 words, Explicit

Lionel is the first, approaching Merlin one late summer afternoon as the sun slants through the dust in the stables and turns the air into heavy fire.

Guard and Keep You

by youfeelallthat, 7,426 words, Explicit

A nasty storm rolls in and Merlin takes Arthur, his company's sweet, simple custodian, home with him. They end up finding much more than shelter.

Forming the Lines

by alcove-words, Teen+

Merlin takes ill and is conflicted over Arthur, Arthur is conflicted over Merlin and hates considerate replacement servants, and the knights are helpful, thoughtful fellows.

With podfic by alcove-words.

Saving Merlin

by @arthur-the-cute, 22,794 words, Explicit

A prompt given to me via my ask box on Tumblr: Season one, The Poisoned Chalice. Arthur is in the room when he thinks Merlin has died and instead of Gwen kissing Merlin, Arthur does.

Challenge accepted.

Fluff

To Dance With the One You Love

by emrys_mk, 1,042 words, Teen+

Arthur asks his father why he made Merlin his manservant.

of blowjobs and candy rings

by coffeeandparchment, 6,221 words, Teen+

"No."

"What? I didn't even say anything yet."

"You didn't have to. It's all in your beady little eyes. You want me to give you a piggyback to the club." Arthur said.

"My feet hurt," Merlin said, as if that was a good enough reason for a piggy back. At Arthur's silence, Merlin pouted. Gods, maybe he was a little more than tipsy.

Arthur slowed down as Merlin walked past. "What are you doing now? For someone who is all about doing these quickly you sure ar—” Merlin cut off as he turned to see Arthur stopped and crouching down. "What are you doing?"

Arthur huffed in annoyance. "What does it look like, Merlin? Are you going to get on or just leave me crouching here like an idiot all night?"

Concert Air

by Saturning, 9,303 words

Arthur and Morgana were having the times of their lifes at this rock festival. Then a drunk Merlin almost ran Arthur over and his excuse took Arthur's breath away, quite literally.

Mint Editions (84 Charing Cross Road)

by @wanderlust48, 10,049 words, Teen+

A London bookseller and an aspiring New York writer strike up an easy friendship over correspondences about books, and food parcels. Arthur and Merlin finally meet in person in London.

Screen control your mother(board)

by furloughday, 10,890 words, Gen

Arthur is Merlin's tech support at work.

With podfic by @momotastic27

Canon, Canon AU & Reincarnation

The Curse and the Coffee Shop

by merlinsivan, 21,860 words, Teen+, WIP

OUAT/ Coffee Shop AU. When Morgana casts a curse that will bring the gang back to our world with no recollection of who they are, will true love’s kiss be able to break the curse? Featuring dragons turned baristas, clueless warlocks and kings that may realise magic isn't such a bad thing after all.

Writers Block

by Kalee60sAlterEgo, 45,808 words, Mature

Merlin, a travel writer for a well-known paper went to his local bar to forget the worst day in history – he didn't expect to sit down at a table and free-write a story starring the god-like barman, Arthur. And he 'really' didn't expect to be drawn back there again and again to write – each story more outlandish than the next.

King for a Day

by @guessimaclotpole, 26,592 words

King Uther has had a rough week, and so he drunkenly decides to take a 2 day holiday. Arthur is thrilled at his opportunity to temporarily become King. That is until Uther announces that Merlin will have to act as King too.

In which two idiots are in love, and learn about what it takes to be a noble and honest leader.

The Long Lost Prince of Camelot

by Phoenixfire513, 31,036 words, Teen+

What if Uther had not banned magic? What if Ygraine had given birth to twins and one had magic? What will the king and his twin brother Balinor do when the Prince who had magic is threatened?

Now I Will Unsettle the Ground Beneath You

by nu_breed, 42,323 words, Explicit

Merlin's dreams have always fuelled his art, but they've always been abstract and removed from reality. Soon after he meets Gwaine, he starts to see vivid images of a past full of death and magic and love for a King who was ripped from him. Things only escalate further when he spends a weekend in the country with Gwaine and meets his group of friends, which includes aristocrat and It Boy, Arthur Pendragon. Merlin soon realises that no matter how hard you try, one thing is certain, you can't fuck with destiny.

With podfic by fluffyllama

Three Castles

by @rageprufrock, 4,538 words, Teen+

It’s a perfectly wretched day in Camelot when Uther Pendragon announces Arthur’s betrothal.

With podfic by EosRose

With podfic by paraka

With podfic by dodificus

The Knights Have a Thousand Eyes

by Stakeaclaim, 74,232 words, Teen

In which Arthur is teaching his knights and Merlin is about to get roped into a lesson.

With podfic by Beccaleelee

Route to Advancement

by magog_83, 30,350 words, Gen

New Knight hopeful, Percy, has been at Court four months, but it might be another four years before Prince Arthur stops calling him Perrin. That's where Merlin comes in.

With podfic by kalakirya

Fidelity

by @schweetheart, 70,249 words, Explicit

Arthur and Gwen have been married for a little under a year when Arthur discovers Merlin's magic, and suddenly everything changes. In a desperate attempt to regain the King's trust, Merlin offers to do the only thing he can think of: to voluntarily bind his power, and with it sacrifice all hope for a united Albion. But as with all things magical, such a concession comes with a price, and with an assassin in their midst and a vital political alliance hanging in the balance, Merlin is not the only one who will find his loyalty tested.

Awake

by Cori_Lannam, with art by @phoenix-acid, 50,711 words, Explicit

King Arthur sleeps in Avalon, waiting to return at the hour of Albion's greatest need. But once a year he awakes and spends a single day with Merlin, who will never, ever leave him.

Crossovers & Fusions

In Front of the Whole World

by Trillsabells, 1,492 words, Gen

She was meant to be showering away the sweat, changing into her Team GB sweatsuit and sorting out her hair to look presentable at the presentation. Instead she was sat on the bench, staring at the wall and wondering what she was thinking and what the hell she was going to do now.

All because of one kiss.

Fast Girls crossover

Broken

by Clea2011, 2,697 words, Teen+

“I’m not Leo Elster,” Merlin snarled. “I don’t even know who he is.”

The synth, or whatever they had all become now, just shook his head sadly. “You don’t remember.”

Merlin remembered. Merlin remembered more than he ever wanted to.

Humans crossover

Note to Idiot

by @tinylilemrys, 9,762 words, Teen+

Arthur and Merlin are members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad who work different shifts and share the same office. Arthur, who works the day shift, can't stand the rain. Merlin, who works the night shift, can't concentrate without it.

When they both get tired of changing the weather in the magical window in their underground office, is there a more British way to settle their differences than with a few passive-aggressive memos?

Harry Potter crossover

Two Weeks Notice

by ras_elased, 39,884 words, Explicit

Arthur is a prattish Executive VP of the Pendragon Corporation with a disturbingly non-ironic love of Demotivational posters. Merlin is a tree-hugging barista with a "magic" tongue. Morgana's a peeping Tom and her breasts have superpowers. Gwen and Lancelot get married. Owain is the company bicycle. Arthur attempts to steal Merlin's affections from Will through epic DDR combat. Merlin gets drunk a lot. There is a pillow fight, and a helicopter ride, and rooftop confessions, and Arthur decides Merlin really is his destiny, whether he likes it or not.

Two Weeks Notice fusion

With podfic by jennacorinth

The King of Mars

by @ivaleelovesmerlin, 34,304 words, Teen+

As children, the Pendragon siblings were obsessed with the space program. They dreamt of becoming astronauts and one day walking on another planet. Their dream leads them to NASA where the revelation of magic suddenly brings Mars within our reach. The Camelot 1 crew, including both Pendragons and powerful sorcerer, Merlin Emrys, land on Mars, and the world celebrates -- until a Martian storm cuts the mission short and tragedy strikes. Arthur is killed, and Morgana makes the difficult decision to leave her brother's body behind on Mars. His crewmates and the world mourn his loss, until Gwen Smith, a clever engineer at NASA, makes a shocking discovery: Arthur is alive.

His ingenuity and determination will get him far, but will Arthur be able to survive alone on Mars until help arrives?

The Martian fusion

Arthur Pendragon and the Quest With a Capital Q

by rubberglue, based on art by @akikotree, 8,164 words, Gen

There's a Holy Grail out there and Arthur Pendragon wants to find it, if only to prove to his father that he is a hero. He gathers his reluctant, suffering manservant and best knights (sort of - some of them are unavailable) and sets off on a quest for the Holy Grail. Gwen never wanted to go on any quest but her mistress, Morgana, thinks the young prince is in danger and requires their aid. And so, the two motley groups make their way through the wilds of Camelot in search of their trophy, encountering overly-stubborn knights, knights with bad dress sense and guards with an unusual interest in ornithology (to name a few) before their final encounter with the big bad - a very fluffy big bad.

As it turns out, the quest is less epic than this summary.

Monty Python fusion

With podfic by @akikotree.

Winter & Christmas

Christmas Memories

by @ivaleelovesmerlin, 4,337 words, Teen+

Merlin and Arthur spend a cozy Christmas Eve snuggled before the fire, reminiscing about past Christmases.

What Nonsense!

by @momotastic27, 8,735 words, Gen

In which Uther Pendragon is Ebenezer Scrooge.

It’s That Time of the Year

by @rotrude, 20,819 words, Explicit

Merlin is a personal shopper at a high-end department store. He's tasked with helping Arthur, who's helpless when it comes to gift ideas for his demanding friends and family. Arthur soon finds that going shopping isn't that tremendous an ordeal.

The Good Times Are Killing Me

by minor_hue, Explicit

In which the boys pretend to still be together for Christmas (and there is more than one kind of charade).

With podfic by @misssnowfoxx

Merlin’s Yule Gift

by rotrude, 15,465 words, Explicit

It's the first Yule after Uther's death and in spite of some initial doubts as to the propriety of holding revels, Arthur decides to celebrate the festival all the same. The populace deserves a time for merry-making and so do his friends and loved ones. Now present exchanges are a Camelot Yuletide tradition, a long established convention. And that's where Arthur's plans falter just a little. While he knows what to give his friends and followers, he has no idea how to reward Merlin. Right, Merlin...

High School & University AU

Best You Ever Had

by neuroticnick (now orphaned), 36,305 words, Explicit

Arthur has been with just about every girl in the sixth form. Merlin pines from afar, knowing he doesn't have a chance. Then Merlin gets an invitation, and realises he has a chance after all. Apparently Arthur is bored and wants to try something new. Merlin knows it's meaningless sex, but he might just be okay with that. Even if the butterflies in his stomach say otherwise.

With podfic by @merlins-earmuffs

The Pope, A Singing Nun, and Arthur Walk Into a Library

by @gigi-gigi, 4,210 words, Teen+

Merlin is a librarian, Arthur is in search of a book. Of course this entire transaction results in true love. There might also be a professor asleep in the Ancient Egypt section.

With podfic by striped_bowties

Best Friends & Flatmates

Little Hours

by orphan_account, 3,640 words, Teen+

Arthur is sleep deprived and Merlin just bought so many snacks.

Time Forward

by @kianspo, 23,180 words, Teen+

While still at uni, Arthur Pendragon meets two people who become his best friends. He falls in love with one of them... but marries the other. This isn't his story to tell; it's Merlin's. And Merlin will always remember that he met Arthur first.

With podfic by @sugaredwhimsey

Something Unpredictable

by alby_mangroves, with art by @softershadows, 38,957 words, Explicit

Arthur’s treehouse was the same as Merlin remembered it, all of it was. Maybe a little smaller, but then everything was, now.

And then there was Arthur himself; and it wasn't so much that a lot had changed about him, not really, it was only that everything had lengthened and broadened and become more.

Enemies to Lovers & Friends to Lovers

When You're Busy Making Other Plans

by helloearthlings, 3,339 words, Teen+

Merlin and The Plan were two irreconcilable parts of Arthur's life.

He wasn't ready to let go of either of them.

Rule Number Four

by orphan_account, 47,732 words, Explicit

Pendragon Enterprise is the world's leading computer security company and ruthless when it comes to taking down malicious programmers. It's the perfect place for a skilled hacker like Merlin Ambrosius (codename: Emrys) to work undercover and gain a tactical advantage. But being the personal assistant for vice-CEO Arthur Pendragon is more complicated than Merlin expects. The female Pendragon threatens castration, Arthur apparently sleeps with all his PAs, and it only gets more complicated when the Kilgharrah virus causes a panic. Merlin might just have a solution though, because Anonymous...Anonymous is legion.

In Spite of Everything, the Stars

by @thepolomonkey with art by @mushroomtale-fanart, 82,243 words, Explicit

London. 2015. The government is set to vote on ending the microchipping of magic users, and Arthur Pendragon has been tasked with kidnapping prominent Magical activist Merlin Emrys to influence the outcome.

Locked away in a house on the North York Moors, tensions rise and confrontation ensues as Arthur is forced to re-evaluate everything he’s been taught about magic, and Merlin finds himself in a struggle for his life. And the fact that they’re falling for each other doesn’t help…

With Podfic by @momotastic27

Love, Toast, and Post-It Notes

by themadlurker, 6,704 words, Teen+

It was love at first sight, and Merlin knew it — when it came to the flat, that was. Merlin wasn't anything like as clear about the man he was going to have to live with.

With podfic by @tipsyxkitty

But It’s a Good Refrain

by @theladyragnell, 23,090 words, Teen

Arthur doesn't care much about the popular radio program Dragon's Lonely Hearts until his ex-girlfriend calls in to slag him off and get advice. When he calls in and has an on-air argument with the host, it starts off more than he expected, including meddling friends, overinvolved fans, and maybe love.

With podfic by striped_bowties

At Our Best When It’s From the Hips

by @derryere, 12,781 words, Explicit

Merlin goes to a brothel to get rid of that virginity thing and runs into Arthur. From there on, it's all madness.

Fake Dating & Fake Marriage

A Date for Dinner

by the5leggedcricket, 10,002 words, Mature

This time Uther has gone too far. With the help of Morgana and a ridiculous advertisement, Arthur finds the perfect revenge: a pretend boyfriend.

#weddingweekend

by sweetiejelly, 5,335 words, Mature

Being with Arthur has never been a chore. Being with Arthur is a breeze, a real breeze, especially in the convertible with the top down.

(Or, Arthur pretends to be Merlin's boyfriend for a wedding weekend. Kilgharrah 'Killy' possibly ships Merlin with Arthur or possibly just wants some chicken.)

An Exchange of Favours (aka The One Where Arthur Gets his Dick Stuck in a Door)

by SPowell, 9,030 words, Explicit

When Merlin gets a stranger out of a jam, he asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend for the night in order to make his ex jealous.

Maybe We Were Coming All Along

by @sassafrasx, 22,181 words, Explicit

In retrospect, the "Prince on the Lam in Wales" Christmas headline was not what Arthur had intended.

Of Coffee Shops and Terrifying Sisters

by Ellenoel117, 4,626 words, Gen

In a sleepy haze Arthur stumbles into a random coffee shop, not expecting much, just coffee. Enter Merlin, shy, dorky and impossibly cute. Add in a rushed explanation, Morgana being Morgana and you've got something cooking.

The Practice Boyfriend

by giselleslash, 24,495 words, Mature

Merlin’s been in love with Lance for years, but he hasn’t had much experience dating and he wants to figure out the ins and outs of dating before Lance comes back into his life. Cue Arthur and his manwhoring ways, ready and willing to show Merlin the ropes.

A Prophecy of Dragons

by Skitz_phenom, 65,185 words, Explicit

Named the Last Dragonlord as his birthright, Merlin knows he must be responsible to his fellow druids and honor the tenets of the prophecy. That doesn't mean he's entirely happy about it and of course, trudging through yet another year of ritual with yet another potential consort, Merlin's perhaps grown a bit too blasé about the whole thing. So when Arthur Pendragon shows up in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and they're both swept up in the auspices of said prophecy, he's not entirely sure how to feel about it all (or about the handsome, arrogant prince).

Domesticity (in est. relationship) & Parent AU

Oh Baby!

by ReneeLaRoux, 7,862 words, Gen

A witch's hex turns Arthur and Merlin into infants. The Knights of the Round Table are tasked with babysitting the miniature King and his Warlock.

The mysterious creature that struck at the heart of Camelot in the wake of the Festival of Ostara

by @prue84, 5,341 words, Gen

As the Festival of Ostara approaches, a mysterious creature threatens Camelot’s crown. Will King Arthur survive the attack or will the creature succeed in deposing the head of the Pendragon’s nest?

Pole Dancing AU

by Bevinkathryn, 47,916 words, Explicit

Arthur's secretary is hell bent on getting him a life. He never expected that life to involve her pole dancing friend, Merlin.

With podfic by @momotastic27

One Day at a Time

by @sara-bocchan

Arthur had returned a couple of weeks ago and Merlin and him are slowly but surely settling into their new routine of adjusting Arthur to the modern world, preparing for the impending threat to Albion, and making the best out of this second chance. This is a story about one of these normal, calm days in their new lives.

Fostered

by @rageprufrock, 6,511 words, Teen+

Obviously, it was not just any sort of egg.

With podfic by dodificus

Keep the Magic Secret

by orphan_account, 73,580 words, Explicit

For the prompt: Someone tells Arthur about the legends of Emrys, an all-powerful warlock whose destiny is to protect Arthur and his kingdom and help bring about an age of peace. He is told that Emrys is someone close to him, and has hidden his identity and trials over the years to protect himself and make sure he can continue on at Arthur's side. When Arthur asks who it is, the person turns to Arthur and shrewdly asks: "Arthur, who do you want it to be?" ... Arthur's mind automatically goes to Merlin.

Cis Swap, Genderbending & Sexuality and Gender Minorities

Dude Looks Like a Lady

by Uniquely_Queer67, 4,941 words, Teen+

In this au, Arthur returned from Avalon a few weeks before he reunites with Merlin in this fic, and had to figure out the world by himself during that time (once he found Google he was pretty much set). But apparently he doesn't know enough when he falls for a gorgeous young woman performing in a club; or so he thinks...

Here and Nowhere Else

by @pendragoff, with art by @eviko, 41,882 words, Explicit

"We've grown into what our fathers had planned for us to be and that makes it even more impossible."

Forced into friendship for publicity at a young age, Merlin finds herself drawn to Arthur despite the fear of dishonoring her own father's memory. Arthur, the daughter of an unkind ruler, has her own issues to work through; seeing as the object of her affections has magic, the one thing her father hates above all else.

Remember, Remember, the Fift of November

by @angelqueen04, 3,351 words, Mature

Secrets destroy, one way or another.

With podfic by Hebecious

Smut

Someone Special

by teprometo, 3,882 words, Explicit

Merlin’s best mate’s older brother is really hot. It’s sort of a problem.

With podfic by sophinisba

Moments Like This

by dreamdustmama, 3,078 words, Explicit

In which Arthur is definitely not drunk, Merlin's secret is no longer a secret (at least from Arthur) and so-not-the-first-time sex happens.

Favourite Epic Length (100k+)

Evil Overlord, Inc.

by @insanewordcount, with art by @mushroomtale-fanart, 137,922 words, Mature

Merlin is a recent graduate with a double doctorate in metaphysics and physics. Arthur is a low-level paper pusher with a desk in the sub-basement of MI5. They live in a world with ridiculous laws and restrictions against anyone who might be supernatural in any way, shape, or design.

Merlin has huge debts looming over this head, a few quid left in his bank account, and no job prospects. Arthur is pushing thirty, in a dead-end job with no chances of promotion to fieldwork agent, and is thoroughly bored with his life.

One ill-advised Craigslist advert, five pushy mates, one nosy all-knowing sister, and a hacked email account later, Merlin and Arthur take the world by storm.

(Or, more precisely, they take over the world.)

Favourite Short Story (under 5k)

Play Me Something

by Caledonia, 2,100 words

Merlin is a classical pianist who habitually gets notes of complaint from his neighbours, and habitually gets evicted by landlords unwilling to keep the peace. Until one note turns out quite differently than the others.

The Tulip Thief

by @thepolomonkey, 3,182 words, Gen

'Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard'

Damsel in a Phone Booth

by @blackwidina 3,053 words, Teen+

I was on Tumbler and found this AU prompt:

“it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

And this was born. Enjoy!

Stranger Things Than Strangers

@fractionallyfoxtrot, 995 words, Gen

Arthur calls Leon to complain about a horrible meeting with his father. At least, he thought he called Leon.

One Day

by @thepolomonkey, 2,018 words, Teen+

Arthur meets Merlin outside a support group.

how not to propose

by @merlinwyllt, 100 words, Gen

“What would you do if I put a crown on your head?”

Favourite Fic

Ace of Hearts

by beccadearie, 32,285 words, Mature

One night when out with friends, Merlin meets Arthur and quickly realizes that they have something in common: they are both asexual and trying to make their way through life and love in a sexual world without going crazy. What starts as hanging out between friends evolves into something more, and Merlin and Arthur decide to plunge headfirst into this tenuous relationship of give and take between the two of them.

Missed Connections (Glory, Glory Holelelujah)

by tourdefierce, 51,218 words, Explicit

Glory-Hole Romantic Comedy. 'NUFF SAID PEOPLE.

You bring the music to my silent world

by Balthamos, 49,818 words, Mature

Arthur and Merlin are thrown together as children when Merlin’s mother moves into the Pendragon Manor as the new housekeeper, bringing her deaf son Merlin with her. Arthur is a loud and obnoxious child, whereas Merlin is quiet but not as shy as everyone thinks. The two children become fast friends, but as they grow up together things begin to change, due to the pressure of wanting to be normal, and the growing lack of communication between the pair. Growing up is never easy and the graceful friendship they had as children gets lost as they reach their teenage years, but through their difficulties they develop a deeper, stronger relationship, one far more permanent.

Sitter!verse

by orphan_account, 32,476 words, Teen+

In which Mordred is Morgana’s 7 year-old son, Merlin is her (terribly cute) housekeeper/babysitter, and Arthur is over all the time because he’s hopelessly in love with him.

Jerusalem

by Magnolia822, 28,859 words, Explicit

Prince Arthur has spent his eighteenth year in a drunken haze of public debauchery, and after the latest round of incriminating photographs, King Uther is fed up. Though magic is outlawed and Magic Users are generally distrusted, Uther secretly hires a young sorcerer to keep Arthur in line, much to Arthur's chagrin. But what starts out as an antagonistic relationship becomes much more as Arthur, increasingly drawn to his secretive young warden, begins to suspect there is something rotten in the state of Great Britain.

And like the cycle of the year, we begin again

by katherynfromphilly, 209,983 words, Mature

For many long years Merlin waited.

For the other part of his soul, for the other half of his life. He was born to serve Arthur. So that meant he was also born to wait. Even if it took a thousand years. Even if the wait seemed never to end.

Until one day, suddenly, it did.

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

Set after the Merlin Series 5 Finale "Diamond of the Day". Canon Compliant. In Character. Arthur Pendragon Returns

When Arthur stumbles from the Lake of Avalon 1,500 years after his death, he finds a world unlike the one he knew. Faced with the loss of everyone he loved, and the threat of impending prophecy, Arthur must quickly learn what it means to be not just a king, but the Once and Future King. Merlin does all he can to guide him in this journey, even as he struggles to hide his love for his king, and to conquer his fear of losing him again.

Story includes sass, banter, horseplay, and True Love.

Creators of COiNELOT

Distant Echoes

by @sara-bocchan, with art by @lao-pendragon, 33,678 words, Teen+

Arthur grows up in a small town and into an overall great and normal life. Except, he keeps having these strange, recurring dreams. Once a year he dreams of a man, watches whatever he is up to at the moment, and sees places he could have never imagined. Arthur was sure he had never met him, so why did he seem so familiar?

Getting older, Arthur becomes determined to find out more about his dreams and the mysterious man. He starts to travel to places he had seen in his dreams and does all the research he can possibly do – but to no avail. Over the years he almost gives up, when suddenly he starts to remember a lifetime many centuries ago – the man from his dreams always at his side...

You Swiped Right

by @momotastic27, 22,038 words, Explicit

Pendragon Books is to London's bookselling industry what Sauron is to Middle-Earth: Bad fucking news.

Merlin could also compare them to Voldemort and the magical world in Britain, or maybe the White Witch and Narnia, but no matter what analogy he picks, the point remains the same: Wherever Pendragon Books pops up with a new shop, existing businesses die a painful death, robbing their city of more and more personality and character. Therefore it comes as a bit of a shock when they're settling in right across the street from Merlin's bookshop, and Merlin finds out that Arthur Pendragon himself is gorgeous and unreasonably easy to talk to, and - worst of all - a bit of a nerd.

However, not only is Merlin most definitely not fraternising with the enemy, he's also already sort of dating someone. So what if it started on Grindr, and is only through text messages?

Bad Behaviour (gets you the Pendragon Treatment)

by @tayathestrange, 24,258 words, Explicit, WIP

After his attack on the Pendragon Inc. servers backfired Merlin finds himself in some unpleasent situation. Maybe he shouldn't have taken the job after all...

My Once and Future Love

by @tracionn, manip, Mature

Naked cuddling :)

Choices and Tourneys

by @elveatas, 13,879 words, Explicit

Every year, right before mating season, Camelot holds a great tournament in which the alphas will compete with each other in order to show their strength to the omegas who’ll be looking to choose the perfect mate. After all, it’s not the alpha who chooses the omega, but the omega who chooses the alpha, and Arthur really, really wants Merlin to choose him.

Perfectly Imperfect

by @little-dhampir-1508, 4,867 words, Teen+

Arthur takes care of Merlin after some bullies got to him.

Times Change

by @elirwen, 7,427 words, Explicit

After witnessing Uther's breakdown and finding out some of the horrible things he did during the Purge, Arthur's general stance on magic shifts radically much to Morgana and Merlin's surprise.

What’s a Soulmate?

by @misssnowfoxx, 2:26 min, fanvid

I've been wanting to vid this quote for way too long! And I'm sure you'll all agree no couple in the history of the world has every deserved this quote more than these two stupid assholes in love. I had a very emotional time making this video and I hope I got across what I wanted to.

Creswell Crags

by @gwylliondream, 5,747 words, Teen+

When Arthur takes ill, he finds himself in a strange environment that echoes his past and gives him hope for the future.

What were you the god of again?

by @brolinskeep, manips, on tumblr

a reluctant heir to the throne who's rather out on quests to keep his people and others save than sitting at home in his palace, an army of the dead, a very special sword, golden eyes of magic and a dragon, a prophecy that needs to be defied and 'oh yeah by the way, you have an older sister i never told you about who's pretty powerful and wants your throne. you got this son. dad out.'

sound familiar?

Diplomatic Immunity

by @archaeologistd, 86,952 words, Explicit

Merlin has come to Camelot to act as an envoy between the magic users and the new High King, Arthur Pendragon. Four years ago, Nimueh had twisted the truth, making Arthur think Merlin was in league with her. That Arthur is unhappy to see him again is an understatement.

My Magical Manservant

by @lao-pendragon, art, Gen

The »My magical Manservant Series« is a collection of many little stories about Arthur Pendragon who is deeply in love with his very magical manservant Merlin. While several secrets, whether magic or love, are no secrets anymore, they have to deal with disobedient dragons, cheeky knights, a whole kingdom and their own feelings for each other. Keep their magic secret!

#bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fanfic #merthur fanfiction #merlin fanfiction #coinelot reincarnated #c2: activities

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carnationbooks · 6 years

Text

Fandom features: Author Wendy Qualls

To kick off a series of fandom-focused posts, we’re chatting with author Wendy Qualls (aka wendymarlowe on AO3) about fanfic, Johnlock, getting published, the intersection of fanfiction and original fiction, and a little dash of DragonCon! We so enjoyed learning a bit about Wendy’s fandom experience, and are so glad to share her insight with all of you! Don’t miss the amazing rec list she wrote for us after the jump (it’s so good). Thank you so much for talking with us, Wendy!

Thanks so much for chatting with us! How can our readers find you?

I write fic as wendymarlowe (Marlowe being my middle name), but I write my original male/male romance under my real name, Wendy Qualls. (www.wendyqualls.com)

So what inspired you to start writing fic?

I write in the Sherlock fandom with brief forays into Harry Potter, but my first ever fandom was Dragon Age. I played Dragon Age: Origins and went through the love story with one of the characters and immediately thought "I want to experience exactly that again, but different" and I remembered something called fanfic my sister used to read so I looked some up. The one I found was awful, but then I found my way onto fanfiction.net and eventually onto AO3. The fics got better :-)

Now that you’re writing mostly in the Sherlock fandom, what about Johnlock is the most appealing to you?

Honestly? I love what fandom has done to the characters. The Sherlock and John on the show would both be horrible people to be in a relationship with, but the general fandom version sort of rounds the edges off a bit. Sherlock is abrasive but not cruel, John is competently BAMF without being violent and angry. The show has throwaway lines like how John “lost an entire Wednesday once” and I know Moftiss put it in there because they thought it was funny but SERIOUSLY? Drugging your flatmate is not okay! I’d much rather read (and write) about characters who are capable of healthy relationships :-)

What is your favorite thing you have written so far?

My most popular fic, and the one that was the most amazing to write, was Dear John (https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647979). Summary: "With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.)"

It was inspired by a friend trying a dating website and me realizing that sense of waiting for replies and not knowing when they're coming could be replicated by AO3's subscribe feature - I posted the fic in "real time." (As in, back and forth according to when the characters would have been writing each other). It had a pretty modest following at the beginning, but by the time John and Sherlock shared their first sexting right before Christmas it kind of blew up on Tumblr and the comments section started to be longer than the chapters :-P

It was amazing to see a mini-fandom develop right there and see everyone debating what they thought John and Sherlock were up to that very minute. By the time the fic got to the big dramatic face-to-face meet, the comments/replies were coming in faster than I could read them! I'm told it's still fun to read now, all at once, but the shared waiting experience was something I wish I could replicate for another fic and I don't know that I ever could.

When I started submitting around to find a literary agent, the popularity of Dear John and my other AO3 fics was a strong point in my favor with the agent I ultimately signed with :-) There's a LOT of overlap between romance authors and fanfic authors, actually, even if not all of them are public about it.

Speaking of your work as a published author, do you have any words of wisdom for the fic authors out there who are hoping to get published one day?

Everyone—every published author ever—has a few manuscripts “under the bed” that just didn’t work. Often it’s because their writing needed to get stronger before publishing, sometimes it’s because they hit a crowded market exactly wrong or just never connected with the right editors/agents. Only around 10% of people who attempt to write their first novel make it to the end, and less than half of those get to the point they’re submitting it for professional consideration.

The thing is, though, the only way to get better at writing is to write. I don’t care how many books and blogs you read about the craft (although those help too), you’re not going to get your book out there for money if you’re not willing to write something imperfect first.

Fanfic, I believe, is an amazing way to practice writing for low stakes. You get your pick of pre-developed characters and settings to choose from, there are no deadlines, and 99% of fanfic readers are supportive. AO3 says I’ve had 11,549 comments on my works - I think I’ve had only one or two readers who were critical. The rest are positive and make me excited to write for them. There is no doubt in my mind that fanfic has made me a better writer. Anyone who dreams of being published someday, my advice is this: write a book. Then write another. Write fanfic along the way and pick up people to cheer you on. The difference between published and unpublished is mostly luck, persistence, and confidence.

Do you ever get writer’s block? What do you do to combat it?

I do absolutely get writer's block, in big part because of my depression. (Depression sucks, btw.) Writing fic has made me comfortable having multiple works in progress at once, though, so often if I'm stuck on my "real" book I can write fic instead. I can't turn out fic as fast as I could before I started actually being published and having deadlines, but it's still a totally different feel writing for no stakes versus "how are my agent and editor and readers going to judge this?" Positive comments on AO3 pretty much balance out the negative energy in bad book reviews :-P

While we discussed this interview, you mentioned you’ll be in attendance at DragonCon this weekend. What are you most excited to do at con?

The panels and the people! There are several friends I only see at DragonCon, and it’s always fun to reconnect. The panels, though, are the heart of the convention. Science vs. Movies (10 PM Sunday in the Hilton Crystal ballroom) is always a highlight - it’s a panel of real, actual science experts forced to watch terrible Hollywood scenes and then argue why the scene was actually 100% scientifically plausible :-P Sometimes they break down and cry. It’s awesome.

You’re on some panels, right? When can folks catch those?

Friday at 10 PM: "BritTrack After Dark - British Fanfic/Slashfic Panel!" in Hilton Galleria 5 and Saturday at 10 PM: "We Do the Weird Stuff!: NC17 Fanfic" in Marriott M301

And finally, do you have any fic recs to share with our followers?

(Ed. Note: Y’ALL! Wendy wrote us an amazing rec list which is under the cut - Click for some Sherlock-y goodness!)

Favorite crack-premise-but-serious-fic: The Midas Touch (E) by flawedregina (https://archiveofourown.org/works/2479868) John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. I love this for the "literal magical healing cock" premise, but it's also a beautiful look at ethics, personality, and the dynamics of sex. John is caught between feeling like he ethically HAS to use his rare gift because it saves people's lives and feeling the very human need for privacy and having control over his own life. Sherlock is a brat because he's always a brat but he GETS it and supports John and seriously, it's wonderful. 32K.

Favorite crack-premise-but-serious-fic without all the smut: A Magnificent Instrument (T) by mycapeisplaid (https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452193) A series of vignettes set in an AU in which Sherlock plays the tuba instead of the violin. This does have some brilliant takes on the idea (my favorite is Sherlock playing "oompah oompah" elephant steps in time with Mycroft leaving the flat) but it's also got an amazing connection between Sherlock and John. 6K.

Favorite fantasy AU: Here There Be Dragons (E) by Leloi (https://archiveofourown.org/works/786378) When Lord John of the Umberland Watsons volunteered to his lord father to deal with a dragon, this was not what he had in mind. Instead of using his sword and shield to deal a deadly blow he found himself trussed up like a festival goose sans armor and small clothes, naked as his birth day. This is sweet and hot at the same time and thanks to a certain Tolkien movie, we don't have to imagine very hard to envision Sherlock as a dragon :-D 8K.

Favorite short, kinky smut: Performance Art (E) by thisprettywren (https://archiveofourown.org/works/208374) “I have to say, John, I really just. Well. I can’t see the appeal.” That wasn’t precisely true, of course. At the moment, the appeal lay in the way John was blushing and licking his lip, avoiding Sherlock’s gaze, thoroughly discomfited. This one is so sexy and so Sherlock in how he thinks and gah, just read it! 6K. Favorite AU: The Bang and the Clatter (M) by earlgreytea68 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/744242) Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. I learned a ton about baseball from this fic - it's very educational :-P It's also clear that earlgreytea is an AMAZING writer and a true baseball fan. 137K.

Favorite D/s verse: Shames and Praises (E) by s0mmerspr0ssen (https://archiveofourown.org/works/573019) Unable but desperate to find a dom who will put up with him, Sherlock swallows his pride and turns to Mycroft for help. Shortly after, John Watson steps into Sherlock's life. Kinky as hell with a wonderful caring top!John. D/s done right. 52K.

Favorite Mystrade: The DI and the Spy (T) by chasingriver (https://archiveofourown.org/works/558609) Greg is an early-morning runner. Mycroft is an early riser who happens to live on Greg's running route. Hilarity ensues. Written for MystradeDoodles' prompt: "Greg is a runner. Rom-com." Exactly what it says on the package - a sweet rom-com story about how Mycroft and Lestrade get a crush on each other before even knowing who the other is. 44K.

#wendymarlowe #Wendy qualls #fandom feature #sherlock #johnlock #fic writers #fanfiction #author interview #dragoncon #fic recs #rec lists #writing advice #fandom #fandom life #original fiction #gay fiction #m/m romance #m/m books

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rhysie-cakes314 · 6 years

Text

Day 13- Inhuman

Summary:

“Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman.” - Marian Anderson When Steve proposes to Tony, some of the homophobic Captain America fans come out of the woodwork with a lot to say. People do dangerous things when they fear what they don't understand, and apparently two men in love is just too spooky for them.

“Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman.” - Marian Anderson

Steve Rogers often forgot that he wasn’t just a man. Captain America was a symbol of hope and patriotism, and the man behind the mask was often put on a pedestal. The average american who didn’t personally know him typically had their own distinct ideas about who Steve should be. Tony tried to make the man understand that, but he never wanted to listen.

“It doesn’t matter! They can think what they want but I know who I am, Tony, and I don’t care if people like it,” Steve shouted. The argument wasn’t a new one, and his patience was beginning to wear thin. He understands that Tony’s heart is in the right place, but the genius was not hearing his words.

Tony threw his hands up in frustration. “You’re Captain fucking America!” He ignored Steve’s muttered ‘language.’ “It doesn’t matter if you care about the public opinion, the public will make themselves heard anyway. When people decide they hate something you do, they don’t just say it, they riot. When they like what you do, they throw parades to celebrate.” He sighed, the anger draining out of him, leaving only weariness. “I wish I was wrong, you could cause a civil war just be saying the wrong thing, Steve. We can’t be public.”

That was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? Steve wanted the world to know how important Tony was to him, but Tony kept blocking his attempts to talk about their relationship to the press. Everytime a question about his love life came up, he would open his mouth to answer only for Tony to divert their attention with one of his latest scandals. Reporters would shout loudly over each other for a chance to get the great Tony Stark’s comment on something controversial, and Steve’s responses would be dead on his lips. Tonight was going to be the end of it. Steve had made sure of his plan. It didn’t matter this time how much Tony tried to talk him out of it. The world would know about his feelings and his sexual orientation.

“It’s 2018. Nobody is going to riot because Captain America is gay.” Steve was done with this conversation. Tony’s attitude was spoiling his good mood. “I’m going to go for a run. Be ready to leave at seven.” He left the lab before Tony could say more. Pepper and the Avengers’ PR agent had set up the interview on Jimmy Kimmel Live! several months back. According to them, Kimmel wanted to talk to the two of them about being the Avengers’ leaders, and how their different leadership styles meshed during missions. When Steve had called Kimmel’s assistant with his idea last week, Jimmy himself had called him back to tell him it was a go.

“The audience will love it!” Kimmel exclaimed. “I’ll throw it into the middle of the interview, so there’s time for Mr. Stark’s reaction to play out whatever it is. When I tell him that you wrote the next question, that’ll be your cue. Oh, I’m so excited! My show is going to be talked about for weeks!”

Steve grinned into his phone. “I’m so thankful you’re allowing it Mr. Kimmel, I’m sorry to take away time from what you had planned.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! This is way better than anything my writers could come up with!”

Steve checked his hair in the mirror for the fifth time. He felt like a walking flag in his navy blue suit, with red tie and white shirt, but Pepper had brow beat him into wearing it. Tony was going to be wearing a gold tie with a deep red suit and shirt. Tony loved it, but Steve wished they didn’t have to be so obviously mimicking their uniforms. It made him feel like they weren’t allowed to be Steve and Tony, they were only allowed to be Captain America and Iron Man. He was reminded of his fear of being a dancing monkey that had began all the war back in WWII.

The small black box in his pocket brought Steve back to the present. He patted the lump, taking a deep breath. He was not nervous. Tony was going to say yes. All Steve needed to do was ask. The question was really a formality; Steve and Tony had been promising each other eternity for awhile now. Tony wasn’t ashamed of being with Steve. They were only a secret because Tony thought the public couldn’t handle Steve being with a man. That was all. The knock on the door forced him to give up on the internal pep talk.

“Steve! Happy is waiting!”

Steve opened the door where Tony was still knocking. He smiled down at his handsome boyfriend, stealing a kiss. The aroma of his aftershave burned Steve’s nostrils a little. He loved it all the same. No matter how hard Tony tried, he’d always have the slight smell of metal and oil clinging to him that Steve loved. “Let’s go, love.”

…

Steve watched Tony answer another question and the rest of the room could’ve disappeared for all he cared. When the billionaire really got going in an interview, his real personality would begin to bleed through the cocky public persona. His easy going responses put even the most rowdy reporters at ease and he expertly steered conversation to topics he was comfortable with. Growing up in the spotlight had shaped him into the perfect interviewee that Steve, with his awkward shyness, could never hope to be.

“... So sure, we disagree now and again, but it never puts a mission in jeopardy. Cap will always defer to me on aerial combat, and I’ll defer to him ground combat in the end,” Tony finished his answer, smiling over at Steve. Steve resisted the urge to lean over for a kiss right then.

“The next question is directed at you Mr. Stark, and it was actually written by Captain America himself!” The applause erupted when Steve stood. Tony met his eyes, confused.

‘What are you doing?’ he mouthed the words. Steve only gave him a nervous smile in response.

As the applause died down, Steve realized he couldn’t back out of this now. He got down on one knee, ignoring the way the audience began screaming in excitement. Steve was focused only on Tony’s reactions. The brunette’s confused look slowly morphed into a scarily blank face, but Steve could see the fear in the man’s eyes mixed with anxious excitement. There was so much there in the brown eyes, and maybe this had been a horrible mistake. Steve held his breath as he pulled the little box out and opened it.

Tony’s heart had stopped. He was certain of it. What was Steve thinking!? He felt dizzy, and oh yeah, maybe he needed to breathe. He took in a shaky breath. He couldn’t even tell anymore if he was ecstatic or terrified. Of course he had wanted this, more than anyone could imagine, but Steve was not thinking this through. The right wing news was going to tear them to shreds tomorrow. A hush fell over the audience, and Tony could feel the people leaning forward on their seats in anticipation, but his own gaze was locked onto the kneeling blond.

“Anthony Edward Stark, will you marry me?”

Tony forgot his own very valid fears when the words hit him. Steve wanted to marry him! How many times had he dreamed about this very moment? The fact that they were on live television faded away and Tony needed to keep breathing. Steve’s face was so hopeful and nervous, and that made Tony want to burst out laughing. Did the man honestly think Tony could ever say no to him? He cleared his throat. “Yes,” it came out as a whisper. “Yes,” he said louder this time. “Of course, you idiot, now get up here.”

Tony pulled the stupidly grinning Steve off his knees and into a kiss. The audience went wild and their host was saying something about happy couples and a commercial break, but all the two men cared about was each other. Tony swore he could feel Steve’s heartbeat thrumming through him. Steve smiled against his lips, trying to pull back, but Tony clutched the man’s jacket tight. Steve would not escape him that easily.

Kimmel clearing his throat startled them both back to reality. Steve blushed a deep scarlet that matched his tie, and Tony smirked at how swollen his lips looked. “While I understand the sentiment, gentleman, we’ll be back live in a two minutes. So maybe the ring shouldn’t be on the floor?” He pointed to the forgotten black box Steve had dropped.

Steve snatched the box back up, slipping the ring onto Tony’s finger. When they were back in their seats, much closer together on the couch now, Tony actually looked at the ring for the first time. It was a simple silver ring with a blue stone the colour of Steve’s eyes. On close inspection, the band itself had an intricate design carved into it that made reminded Tony of a circuit board. It was too perfect, and Tony was grinning at it like a smitten schoolgirl when the band and applause indicated the end of the adbreak.

“So, Mr. Stark, show the cameras your beautiful ring!” Tony held up his hand as the camera zoomed in, wiggling his fingers excitedly. “It really is something, isn’t it? Captain Rogers, where did you get it?”

Steve squeezed Tony’s other hand in his lap. “I, uh, well, I got the stone from an antique store, but I made it.” Tony gaped at his fiancé. When had the man found time?

“Oh, wow!” Kimmel leaned back in his chair in clear surprise. “I don’t believe I knew you could make jewelry. Is this something you’ve done a lot?”

Steve chuckled. His elation had rid him of all his usual shyness. Tony had said yes! “It’s my first attempt at jewelry, I’ll admit. I’m not very into metalworking, Tony being the metal expert I leave it to him, but I did go to art school before I enlisted. I know a thing or two about design and aesthetic.”

“That’s right! I forgot about the art school. I’m a bit rusty on my 1940s Steve Rogers trivia, I’ll admit. I did go to your exhibit at the museum once, though.”

The rest of the interview went by in a blur for the two of them. Tony wanted nothing more than to get Steve out of those clothes so he could show him how much he really appreciated the proposal. While he wasn’t necessarily against jumping the man on TV, public indecency was frowned upon and whatnot. When they got home, Tony couldn’t even strip immediately like he wanted, because the Avengers were waiting with a banner and surprise party. Tony and Steve grinned their way through the congratulations, making sure they spent a proper amount of time enjoying the party, but they both just wanted to be alone.

“Finally!” Tony growled after he slammed their door shut. Steve had no complaints with the fervor, only helped Tony to strip them both down as quickly as possible. “I can’t believe you did that on television,” Tony’s voice was husky with arousal. Steve allowed him to hold him down on the bed, just watching the smaller man kiss a line down his front before gasping in surprise when Tony nipped the inside of his thigh. “You’re insane.”

Steve huffed. He was too distracted by the sensation of Tony’s hands on him to think clearly. “You don’t seem to be complaining,” he replied dizzily. Tony teased at his tip with his tongue, and Steve hissed. His hips bucked before he could stop them, but Tony smirked up at him, victorious. He had Steve at his mercy in five minutes tops every time.

“Oh I’m not complaining,” he murmured, crawling back up to silence Steve’s moan with his own mouth as he wrapped a hand around Steve’s penis. He gave a lazy stroke, impressed with how quickly Steve could be so hard. He began sucking at Steve’s neck, pulling his hand away to scratch ten red lines up Steve’s abs and chest. The air hitting the raw skin was a perfect contrast to the moist warmth of Tony’s mouth on Steve’s neck. Tony pulled back to look down at Steve from above. His pupils were blown wide and Steve thought he had never looked more beautiful. “You are insane, though,” Tony’s voice was strained, his own erection untouched so far. “You’re not going to be able to leave the tower for weeks without being harassed by reporters.”

Steve ignored Tony’s hand this time when he tried to block Steve from grabbing him. He felt Tony twitch eagerly in his grasp as he watched Tony throw his head back with a moan. Tony’s sounds were always the best part for Steve. The man could make the most obscene noises, and it was the only time Steve could make him fumble his words. Steve reached into the drawer beside him, pulling out the lube. “I really don’t care,” Steve responded before sticking a slicked finger inside his new fiancé. He grinned when Tony whined and pushed down onto the finger, already begging for more.

…

Tony had been predictably correct. The next morning, every news station across TV and radio was talking about Captain America’s engagement to Iron Man. Steve decided his morning run was not worth it when he saw the crowd waiting right outside the tower. He decided to ignore Tony’s ‘I told you so’ smug face when he returned from the lobby and headed to the gym to use the treadmill. Tony was still in the kitchen watching another news channel an hour later.

Steve walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Tony, who leaned back for a kiss. “How was your run?” he smirked up at Steve.

Steve merely returned the smirk. “Still worth it,” he kissed Tony again, savoring the coffee taste. Tony returned to the news on the tablet in front of him, holding out his empty mug towards Steve. Steve shook his head fondly as he refilled the coffee before moving to make his second breakfast. “Have you eaten anything today?” he called behind his shoulder.

Tony only hummed in response, too focused on whatever the reporter was saying in front of him to actually listen to what Steve had asked. Steve couldn’t hear anything, so the captions must be on. He gave up and decided to make Tony some food anyway, since he likely hadn’t had anything besides coffee. If he didn’t eat it, Clint certainly always would, so it’d hardly go to waste. Tony let out a frustrated growl behind him. “Tony,” he sighed. “Why don’t you just ignore them? That’s what you normally do.”

“It’s different.” He finished his coffee and set it on the counter a little too hard. “I’m used to the things they say about me, but now they’re saying horrible things about you! Well, mostly me still and how I must have duped you or am a bad influence but still! Fox is saying you’ve betrayed you values,” he looked to see why Steve had stopped making cooking noises. The blond looked much angrier than Tony was expecting. He had seem so unperturbed by it all only a moment ago.

“They said that you duped me?” Steve’s voice was low and dangerous. “That you influence me negatively!?” It rose to a near shout. Tony flinched instinctively, not used to Steve’s actually angry voice in the close quarters of the small kitchen. Steve lowered his voice again, annoyed that he had made Tony flinch. “JARVIS, call Anne and have her come over today if she can.”

“Right on it, Captain Rogers.”

Tony gaped at the man, lost. “Why are you talking to PR? I thought the plan was to ignore them until they moved onto the next big story?” He watched Steve war with himself, his face twitching with conflicting emotions. He moved forward, turned off the stovetop before Steve burned his food, and grabbed Steve’s hands from underneath his crossed arms. Steve watched their hands for a moment, before meeting Tony’s eyes. “What is bothering you?”

Steve closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he reopened them he looked much calmer. “Yes, you’re right. JARVIS, can you cancel that?”

“Of course.”

“It’s just the idea that I’m somehow better than you I guess. Like why not ask if I was the one who duped you?” Steve looked so sad and confused, Tony felt so heartless for the laugh that slipped past his lips unwanted. Steve pulled his hands away, irritated.

“Wait, no, sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh,” Tony started. Steve had turned back to cooking, though, and wasn’t looking at Tony. “Steve, please.”

Steve kept cooking. “Go on Tony,” he said tiredly.

“It’s just, the idea of you duping me was really funny to me, I didn’t mean to actually laugh.”

“But the idea of me duping you is fine?” He asked.

Tony felt like he had walked into some sort of trap. That there was a wrong answer here. Maybe he should work around the question rather than answering directly. “Well if one of us were better than the other, you’re clearly the better one.” That was the wrong answer. All of Steve’s movements became sharp and harsh, slamming plates down and dumping food on them messily before throwing utensils in the sink. The clamour seemed to solidify that Tony had fucked up.

Steve sat down at the counter, so Tony took his own seat warily. They ate in tense silence for several long minutes before Steve looked up at him again. He looked sad instead of angry. “You believe that don’t you?” Tony ran through the conversation again, not sure what was being asked. “That I’m better than you. That you duped me.” The questions had become statements.

Tony felt like an idiot for not realizing what was bothering the man earlier. Of course it was because he thought they were equals. Tony and the rest of the world knew that Steve was a better person, but Steve had come to believe that Tony was as good as himself. Tony wasn’t complaining, but he knew it wasn’t true. “I’m sorry,” he spoke sincerely. He couldn’t lie and tell Steve that he was wrong, but he could apologize for it.

Steve took Tony’s hand. “I know you are.” He kissed Tony on the forehead. “I love you so much, and I will make you believe that you deserve me someday.” Tony threw him a lopsided smile. He would love that to happen.

…

By the time the Stark Industries Halloween Gala rolled around a few months later, the stories about Steve and Tony had died down. Here and there a piece would show up offering someone’s opinion on the matter, but everyone had moved onto more important things for the most part. Like what the two engaged superheroes would be wearing to the Gala.

“I really think you could pull off a dress, shellhead,” Clint said at dinner that night. Thor had brought a tabloid magazine to the table with an article speculating about their attire. “Then maybe the conservatives will be a little happier about Steve’s gayness if you’re the feminine one.” The rest of the Avengers had found the whole debacle immensely amusing. Clint especially loved to poke fun at the stories where Tony was an evil seducer that turned Captain America gay.

Tony pretended to think about it. “I suppose I could really piss them all off by shaving and wearing a wig. Though that may offend the drag or trans communities. I’ve always wanted to get into drag, though. Imagine me, a drag queen. Iron maiden, I could be a dominatrix-esque drag queen!”

“Oh, I would love to help you come up with routines!” Thor enthused. It may or may not actually be one of Tony’s secret dreams, but he knew he’d never be able to get into it without a media shit-storm claiming he was trying to poke fun or was a bigot. Really, he wasn’t sure where the idea had come about that Tony would be conservative or right-wing was beyond him. His dad may have been a capitalist douche bag, but even Howard had thought being anti-LGBTQ+ was just plain stupid. Like who cares what people do in their private lives? If it’s not hurting anyone…

“I never realized how much I wanted to see you in drag,” Natasha commented, eyeing him intensely. “And I see Steve is on the same page,” she glanced over at the blushing man, only causing his blush to deepen.

Tony spit out his drink. “Wait, Steve, is it true?” He turned to look at his fiancé excitedly.

“I, well, I, uhm,” he spluttered. “I would want you to keep the goatee!” he blurted out. Tony could not have found a more adorable man to marry. He pulled Steve in for a kiss, that quickly turned a bit too sexually charged for the dinner table.

“Ugh, God, get a room!” Clint flung some peas at Tony.

Tony ignored the projectiles, but pulled away nonetheless. “I can dress in drag for you,” he whispered in Steve’s ear before going back to his dinner as though nothing had happened. Steve might just pass out from how red he was getting. Tony tried to keep his expression innocent, only grinning in victory inside his head.

“Well, I have come up with a few outfit pairs for you, if you’d like,” Coulson spoke, dry as always, so Tony couldn’t tell if he was serious. The way Clint whipped around in surprise told him that Coulson wasn’t joking. “I worked on it with Darcy,” he said with a shrug as though that explained anything at all.

Steve couldn’t deny that he was curious. “I’d love to see them,” he told Coulson, happy to change the subject from Tony in drag. Not even he had known he wanted that until the picture had popped into his head. “The Gala is masquerade though, right?” Steve turned to look at Tony.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, although most people only have their masks on in the beginning for pictures.” He scrunched up his nose. “They get weirdly sweaty.”

“I’m adding you to our google doc, Cap,” Phil said while he typed on his phone.

“Do I have to go?” Bruce asked from the other end of the table? “I know we were all invited, but I hate these things.”

Tony frowned at his best friend. “Well I can hardly force you, but it’d look better if the Avengers all showed up so the press doesn’t come up with some stupid theory like that we’re not getting along or something. Knowing them they might decide you hate that Steve and I are together. I’ve seen some hilarious fan theories that you’re jealous because you and me were meant to be,” Tony snorted.

Bruce’s cheeks turned pink. “You and me? You’re not really my type.”

“I know, right!?” Tony was still laughing hysterically. “So you’ll come?”

Bruce nodded in defeat, “If it’ll keep them from theorizing.”

“Oh I’m sure it won’t,” Phil said.

…

They ended up on tuxes with each other’s usual colour schemes. Tony wore a light blue vest, with matching pinstripes on his pants. The tux jacket and bowtie were black with a blue shimmer that you could see only when the light hit it right. He thought it looked perfect with his engagement ring, and he used one of those blue tinted mascaras to accentuate his naturally long lashes. Now that he knew Steve had a thing for it, he finally had an excuse to start exploring some of the more feminine parts of vanity he’d always wanted to, but he’d start slow. There was the public to consider, of course.

Steve wore a maroon vest with a black tux, and his bow tie matched the vest. The best part, in Tony’s opinion, was the gold glittery shimmer that was over the whole tux set. Tony wasn’t sure how his designer friend, Janet Van Dyne, had done it, but it looked like someone had very lightly sprayed the whole thing with gold glitter spray paint. Steve’s mask was an arc-reactor blue, as he called it, feathered along one side with gold feathers. Tony’s was a phantom of the opera half face style white, with a red and blue gradient of tiny, sparkly stars along the outer edge. Together they looked simultaneously gorgeous and ridiculous.

“How did I get such a handsome fiancé?” Steve asked in wonder as they headed out for the limo, already assaulted by paparazzi. The security detail for the Avengers was being handled by SHIELD and SI together given the amount of super-powered enemies they had all acquired over the years. Tony had the bracelets to call the suit if needed, Steve had the shield waiting at the gala in a closet, Clint had his foldable bow with arrows stored next to Steve’s shield, Thor was always able to call Mjolnir, and Phil and Natasha were strapped with handguns and knives.

Tony grinned, waving at a couple of photographers happily. “By being a sweet, sensitive artist who throws a disc at nazis and aliens,” he answered without missing a beat. Steve’s resulting laugh sounded musical to his ears. He felt like he was walking on air tonight. This was their first formal public event since the engagement, and though they’d of course gone on dates and missions together since, he felt like this was his first real opportunity to show off his fiancé. There was a slightly bitter thought in the back of his mind that he’d like to see Howard’s stupid face when he found out his beloved perfect Steve was marrying his failure son Tony, but he easily pushed it away. Steve was going to marry him, had announced it publicly, his life was perfect.

When they arrived and stepped out of the limo, there were not only photographers, but reporters too. They stopped off to one side to answer a few questions before they got in.

“Captain America, what do you say to the family values activists who say you’ve gone over to the dark side and should be stripped of your title?” A woman from the back shouted.

Steve took it in stride. Tony had been practicing with him for months, so he’d be prepared for far worse questions than this. “I say that I am sorry they are so frightened by what they don’t understand. Just because a man loving another man is different than their own love lives does not make their idea of a family more valid than LGBTQ+ families, and their self-appointed cause of family values is a misguided bigotry.”

Tony was so proud. “Do you honestly think they’re afraid of gays or is it maybe that they just hate them?” A man nearby asked. Tony leaned over to whisper in Steve’s ear that it was Ian Gerund, a reporter for Out Magazine.

Steve looked the man in the eyes the whole time he responded, which obviously made the man a little uncomfortable. Reporters were not used to such directness with their shouted questions, as Tony had warned him. “I do honestly think that. I also think there is some genuine hate out there. Hate often stems from fear, though, and as Marian Anderson, one of my favourite singers said, ‘Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman.’ Our only hope is to continue to meet hate and fear with love and acceptance, but defend ourselves when attacked.”The reporters nearby had clearly not been prepared for such well thought out responses, and there was a small wave of confusion.

“Mr. Stark! Are you really ready to be sexually exclusive with one person ‘til death do you part?”

Steve couldn’t help the painful tightening of his hand around Tony’s. The questions directed at them were so different and obviously judgmental about the two of them and it pissed him off. Everyone was prepared for Steve to be an innocent backwards old man and for Tony to be a promiscuous conniving bastard. Tony, on the other hand, was used to it. He shot the offending reporter a wicked grin. “Oh, Steve is plenty sexually fulfilling to me, sweet-cheeks. Sorry you missed out on your opportunity,” he finished with a wink. Steve thought that was a perfect time to leave.

“Sorry folks, we have people to see and dances to dance,” Steve said, strained. He tugged on Tony’s hand, but the man had no qualms about following anyway. He hated talking to reporters as much as Steve did. He just hid it better.

“You did so well, babe.” He pulled Steve’s hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Proud of you.”

Steve smiled at him, but his eyes were a little pinched. “Yeah, thanks for the practice.”

“I know, love. They’ll eventually stop treating you like that. It’s just hard for some people to recognize that not everyone in the 40s was straight and hated gays,” Tony spoke quietly, misunderstanding the reason for the distress.

Steve kissed him, which conveniently gave him the excuse to be right at Tony’s eye level as he said, “I could care less how they treat me. It’s how they treat you like an amoral, selfish party-boy who is going to cheat on me first chance he gets.”

“That’s because I was for a long time,” Tony reminded him. Steve didn’t have a chance to respond before the greetings and small talk of the night began.

“Mr. Stark! Captain Rogers! So good to see you.” Steve didn’t recognize the man, though Tony seemed to. Sometimes it seemed to Steve that Tony knew everyone in New York, though. “It really is a lovely event.”

“Lieutenant Germaine, thank you for coming. I don’t believe you two have actually met, this is Captain Steve Rogers, my fiancé,” he used the title feeling giddy. “Steve, this is Lt. Frances Germaine. We met while I was working on the Stylus project, right?”

Lt. Germaine nodded. “You were showing us your new remote controls for a drone that allowed more precise aim and birdseye view so there’d be less accidental civilian casualties,” he reminded Tony.

“Ah yes, hope that worked out,” Tony remarked. “It was a little before Afghanistan when I was still designing while wasted so,” he shrugged with his most self-deprecating smile.

Steve frowned at Tony, but Germaine gave a knowing chuckle. “It saved numerous lives from unnecessary accidents, I assure you,” he placed a comforting hand on the genius’ shoulder. “You really weren’t the devil people made you out to be, y’know. The wake up call about SI accountability and double-dealing was important, but you should cut yourself some slack. Even as a kid you were doing good work.”

Tony gave a strained smile. “Thanks, Lieutenant. I hope you enjoy the party.”

The man caught on to the dismissal. “Nice to meet you, Captain.” They shook hands and he departed. Tony snagged a three drinks off a roaming tray and handed one to Steve. He drained one, placing it back on the tray, and kept the other.

Before Steve could comment on the conversation that had just happened, he heard the familiar gleeful squeal of Janet. “Oh, boys, you look fabulous! Give me a little spin,” she motioned. They obeyed, laughing. “Yes! Perfect! The coattails had me worried there for you Cap, your proportions are wonky. Didn’t want them to look too short. Oh! Tony, darling, I haven’t seen the ring in person, gimme,” she held out her hand expectantly.

Tony was laughing and enjoying himself again, previous conversation with the Lieutenant long forgotten. He handed the ring over and the two started gushing about Steve’s taste. Steve was still thinking about the previous conversation, so he was a little startled when the two of them were looking at him expectantly. “Huh? What?”

Janet burst out laughing. “I asked you how long it took you to make the ring?”

Steve blushed, embarrassed. “Oh, only like a week after I found the right stone.”

“So how long before that have you been planning to ask me?” Tony asked, hand on his hip. He only got even sassier around Janet. The two together could be a nightmare sometimes. When Tony, Janet, and Clint were all three in a room, one’s only hope was to flee before you got caught in their whirlwind.

“Two years?” Steve answered hesitantly.

“That was before we had even started dating!!!” Tony exclaimed.

Steve scratched at the back of his head, not having a good response for this. He had kind of been hoping it would never cross Tony’s mind to ask. “Yeah, I may have been in love with you and overly optimistic for a long time before we confessed to each other,” he attempted to explain.

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Janet remarked. Tony just looked at him with wide eyes, feeling like he was falling in love with Steve all over again. This man was far better than he could have ever dreamed.

“I’m so sorry, Janet, your outfits are lovely and we need to get together soon and catch up,” Tony started without looking away from Steve, “but I need to take this man to the dancefloor, now.”

“Of course, I understand,” Janet responded too seriously. “Get on with it!” She faux whispered to Steve while he was led away by Tony.

They danced to a song Steve didn’t recognize, but it hardly mattered. He only had eyes for Tony and followed the man’s lead. Tony had been taught to dance when he was three and it more than made up for Steve’s two left feet. Tony finished his drink so he could use two hands again, placing it on the passing waiter’s tray. He frowned at Steve’s untouched drink before snatching it, draining it, and also placing it on said waiter’s tray. The waiter scowled before he walked away. Had that been the same one as before?

“You’ve had three drinks already and this is only our first dance,” Steve remarked lightly. He wasn’t worried. Tony hadn’t gotten too drunk since they’d gotten engaged. The genius seemed to only get past buzzed when he was upset or depressed.

Tony waved him off. “Three drinks is nothing for me, you know that,” he smiled brightly. He wasn’t wrong. Tony often didn’t feel anything until the fifth drink depending on the strength, and these were just glasses of champagne. He typically drank straight liquor. “I wish they’d play something slower,” he said casually, pulling Steve into him.

It was like it was planned, and maybe it was, Steve thought. This was a SI organized party afterall. The music shifted to a slow song, and it took Steve a until the vocals to realize it was. “Is this-?” he felt at a loss for words. He had never mentioned his love for Marian Anderson before.

Tony’s lips quirked sideways, a cross between a smile and a nervous squint. “Solitude, or The Jewish Girl’s Song as performed by Marian Anderson? Yes.”

Steve felt his eyes well up with tears. “How did you know?” He asked softly. Tony was up against him, head resting against Steve’s chest as they slowly danced to the movement of Marian’s voice. The orchestral part didn’t move much, so it made more sense to set one’s movements to the woman’s emotional performance. Tony waited until the song finished to answer Steve’s question. Steve vaguely realized that the rest of the large ballroom was full of people confused by the sudden change in language and style, but it didn’t matter. They’d get over it when the regular modern music returned.

“Well, I may have been playing different artists in the background when you’re around and gauging your reactions with JARVIS’ help. We eventually narrowed down your best unconscious smiles to music that style-wise and time period led to Marian Anderson, so I figured she must be one of your faves, and then you quoted her outside and I’m so glad I wasn’t wrong, because sometimes it’s hard to figure out what you liked from your old life and-” the man was rambling nervously, and they both knew it.

Steve placed a finger to his lips, silencing the man. “Everytime I think you’re done surprising me,” he murmured. “You blow away my expectations again.”

Tony absolutely beamed at him. It had been a very long and difficult project, trying to figure out some of Steve’s interests. The man was so easygoing and not picky sometimes that it was impossible to tell what he actually liked and what he just didn’t mind. Tony wished Steve was a little more outspoken, but he also appreciated the little mysteries he had to work to solve about Steve. It kept the man interesting. His next project was trying to figure out the supersoldier’s favourite painters and art styles for a wedding portrait, but that was still a secret. “I’m so glad you like it. I bought the film for the original recording of her performance at the Lincoln Memorial,” Tony was actually blushing a little. He very rarely blushed. His olive italian complexion made it harder to show than Steve’s pale irish white, but he also didn’t have much shame anyway.

Steve gasped in surprise, pulling Tony into him and holding on tight for a moment. The mention thrust him back to 1939 when the historic performance had been the talk of the nation. Marian had been such a big deal, paving the way for African American singers, and she got to sing at the Lincoln Memorial. Steve’s mother had followed the woman’s career closely, always reminding Steve that until the blacks were treated right, the immigrants had no hope. She had died only months before the Lincoln Memorial performance. “Thank you,” he whispered.

The rest of the night seemed to be going by in the background. Steve just followed his partner’s lead, making small talk here and there, dancing, clapping, showing off their relationship, etc. Something at the back of his mind was bothering him, but he couldn’t quite place it, so he pushed it aside and focused on Tony. The billionaire was in his element, as much as he was loathe to admit it. Tony Stark was a socialite as well as a shut-in engineer. Tony liked to convince himself that the rich celebrity persona was all a facade, and a lot of it was, but Steve could tell that the man also felt at home at these events sometimes. Now if the world worked Tony’s way, there’d only be one or two events a year, but if all of them suddenly disappeared, Steve thought Tony would probably miss it more than he expected.

It was when Tony placed his sixth empty champagne glass on a tray behind him that Steve realized what was bothering him. Out of the thirty or so roaming servers in the room, the same one always seemed to gravitate towards them. Tony had only come in contact with the one waiter, though he probably didn’t notice at all. At first, it could’ve been explained away by the staff having assigned areas of the room. By now, though, Steve and Tony had been all over the large hall, Tony being one of the main draws of the event. They had to talk to all the big SI contributors.

Tony’s energy had been flagging over the last hour. He had gone from looking excited and flamboyant to looking tired and withdrawn. Steve caught him wiping a sweaty brow a few times, but until now, had only assumed it was due to the running around in a tux in a fairly hot room. No one else seemed to be sweating though. “Hey, wait up!” Steve called out, jogging after the man until he caught up with the waiter. Tony watched him go in confusion, but stayed where he was, not wanting to seem rude while he was still trapped in conversation with one of the major shareholders in his company.

The waiter turned to face Steve, mild surprise on his face. He looked so nondescript. An average height white male, light brown hair, probably middle aged. It was a wonder Steve had recognized him as familiar at all. That was one of Phil’s assets as a SHIELD agent, looking nondescript. Steve idly wondered if being around nondescript agents enough to get to know them helped him be better at picking up on nuances within the average appearance. The man smiled politely. “May I help you with something, Captain Rogers?”

Steve watched his expressions carefully. If there was anything suspicious about the man, he was good at hiding it. “Have you been following us?” he asked right out.

The waiter’s face showed a split-second of surprise before returning to the polite smile. Steve probably wouldn’t have caught it if it weren’t for Natasha’s training in microexpressions. “I’m sorry?” he pretended to be confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Steve didn’t know what set off his alarm bells, but he was sure enough of himself to be okay with making a scene. He snatched the tray from the man’s hands and placed it on a nearby table. People close by started watching the strange exchange. Steve then grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it painfully behind his back. “Don’t play stupid.” He hissed into the man’s ear.

A hysterical giggle tumbled from the waiter’s lips. “Your observational skills are as impressive as I expected,” the man responded smugly. “I only worry it took you too long.” He didn’t sound worried at all. Steve decided then and there that he hated the smug bastard.

Slamming the man onto the same nearby table where he hat set the tray, Steve sent several glasses flying off the table or rolling and smashing loudly on the ground. A woman somewhere screamed. “What did you do?” he demanded.

“Steve! What are you doing!?” Tony was marching towards them with two guards.

Steve took a steadying breath through his nose. “This man did something, Tony, I just don’t know what,” Steve grit out angrily. The man smirked at Steve. He was asking to get his nose broken.

Tony just looked more confused and irritated. “What are you talking about? Let the man go, Steve.” Tony placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if this guy did do something, let security handle it.”

Steve looked back and forth between the smug bastard and his love, ignoring the awkward silence that had descended on the party while the drama unfolded. Tony was right, he didn’t know what had gotten into him. He stood, pushing the waiter towards one of the guards, who caught the stumbling man easily and pinned his arms behind his back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he murmured, head down. He had almost certainly ruined the party, and had definitely embarrassed Tony in front of the business world.

When Tony didn’t respond, he raised his head so he could see the man’s expression. He was beginning to look very pale, and a bead of sweat ran down the un-masked side of his face. It seemed like a weird time for Steve to notice that they had never removed their masks like Tony said he normally did, but Steve’s mind was all over the place. He stepped towards the man, “Tony?”

“It’s about time it kicked in,” the smug asshole called out, and Tony turned slowly towards him, looking shocked and confused.

“Wha?” Tony stepped towards him but stumbled, and Steve had to lunge to catch him.

“Tony!”

Everyone was watching the scene unfold. Tony was in his arms looking dazed, breathing too quickly. Steve looked back at the asshole, and when they met eyes the man spoke again. “He was the problem, see? Now you can be Captain America again, unsoiled!” There was a mad glint to the man’s eyes. The guard holding him began dragging him away so they could question him in private. Pepper was approaching from the other direction with medics on either side of her.

Steve looked down again, terror beginning to take its icy hold on his heart. “Tony? Sweetheart?”

Tony looked up at him, scared himself. “Steve? I-” he shuddered in Steve’s arms. “I don’t feel well.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he tried to sound convincing as he laid the man on the ground for the medics to take over and examine. He stayed as close as he could so Tony could still see him. It was clear that panic was starting to take over for Tony though, and he reached out for Steve. His chest was heaving visibly.

Steve grabbed one of the glasses he knew Tony had drank from, more thankful than he’d ever been for his eidetic memory. “Whatever it is, it’ll be on this,” he showed the medic who wasn’t currently taking Tony’s pulse.

“Good, bring it with you,” the medic commanded. “We gotta go, now.”

Another two had arrived with a stretcher and they were lifting Tony onto it. Steve followed beside them, holding Tony’s outstretched hand. Tony looked like he was about to say something, but instead cried out in pain and clutched at his abdomen. His breathing remained labored all the way to the helicopter, where it stopped altogether. Steve was gently pushed into a seat while they started manually inflating Tony’s lungs, and Steve’s world was spinning. Tony was writhing in pain, still semi-conscious and all Steve could do was watch helplessly. When they landed at the hospital, Steve tried to stand and follow, but his knees locked in place and he was so dizzy.

A nurse was there at his side, and when had he laid down on the ground. “Hey, you’re okay, it’s just emotional shock. Let’s get you a blanket and some water, okay?” The man in scrubs said. Steve nodded, allowing the man to help him into shaky legs.

“Tony?” he asked, hoping the guy new what he meant.

Thankfully, he did. “You fiancé is being taken care of right now. Thankfully, we were able to determine the poison pretty quickly with his symptoms and the residue on the glass. We’re starting him on chelation. As long as he holds out a little longer, he’ll make a full recovery.”

As long as he holds out is what stuck in Steve’s mind. So there was still a chance Tony could die. “I need to be there,” he ground out, lurching forward from the chair he had been sat in.

“Hey,” the nurse caught his arm. “Okay, okay, let me take you there.”

Steve let him lead the way, and they were to Tony’s bed where an IV was still being put in his arm, and the man was already intubated. Steve collapsed unceremoniously into the seat beside Tony opposite to the side the nurse was on, grabbing Tony’s hand. He squeezed just tight enough to let Tony know he was there, that Tony had to pull through. The words he had spoken earlier that night were running through his head on repeat and he felt sick. Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman.

How could someone do something like this to someone like Tony? All in the name of him being Captain America, ‘unsoiled’? The idea of Steve being with another man was so frightful to someone that they’d poison Iron Man just to stop it? It was completely illogical and crazy, but that was the point. Steve was terrified in this very moment, and it was coupled with a rage and illogical desire to beat the waiter to death. Such violence wouldn’t help Tony survive, and it would do zero good for the world, but the idea of it alone helped assuage some of Steve’s fear. Fear could truly turn the gentlest of men to inhumane acts. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise to Steve, he had already seen it played out in the war, but the shock of it was real everytime he faced that reality. Tony would be okay, he had to be, but Steve would be haunted by this forever.

#thearkoctoberchallenge2018 #stony #tony stark #steve rogers #marvel #fanfic #superhusbands #marian anderson #marriage proposal

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN . . . : MLP Fan Fiction

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IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN . . .

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

1612 words

Writing begun 10/06/16

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

It should have been a dark and stormy night! Just to be perverse, it was calm, clear and well lit by a nearly full, waning gibbous moon.

Rory was laying in wait! Nightmare Night was his favorite! He was lurking in the brush, not far from the cemetery wall. His costume totally hid his head and cutie mark, making it all the more fun to jump out at the passing foals.

When he waived that old scythe at them they ran like rabbits! Dropped their loot bags, as often as not! Fun all around! For him.

Pity that he swung wrong, that one time. Grazed one of the escort ponies. Nothing serious, but you know, if he got caught the authorities would be like it was the crime of the century!

It added spice to the game!

The slightly wounded mare ran straight for Twilight Sparkle's Golden Oak Library! Breathless, she panted, “Twilight! We have to do something! Look at my neck! There is a big earth pony jumping out of the brush to scare foals into dropping their loot bags! He waves this big scythe! He hit me!”

Twilight paused in handing out small books and candies to her Nightmare Night visitors. Turning, she saw Spike at the ready, quill and parchment in hand.

“Take a note, Spike! Dear Princesses Celestia and Luna: We have a problem here in Ponyville.” In a few words, she described the unpleasant situation. Spike breathed fire on the note and the smoke streaked away!

Celestia and Luna were presiding over a masquerade dance party of nobles. It was about as boring as a Nightmare Night celebration could be. Luna had just observed, “Trust the nobility to make something so fun into a soporific!”

Celestia was giggling agreement when the wisp of smoke sailed in and became a note. She scanned it and promptly magicked it over to Luna.

“I think that this one is for you, Luna! Have the fun I am not going to have!”

Reading, Luna began to grin. Fangs showed. Ghastly pustules appeared in her magic, in lieu of stars. Her forehooves became claws. From her normal dark blue, she became utterly black. She answered Celestia, “I will! I have not spoken to Swift Feather in a long time.”

Dryly Celestia observed, “Being dead for 3000 years does tend to cut off the conversation!”

Luna said in a soft voice, “There is a loophole in that. I rule the Dream. The Dream can cross time.” She stalked out of the hall. Her condition upon leaving was noted by the Herald.

“Your Highness, what has so upset Princess Luna on this festive night in her honor?”

“It was not this festivity, however boring it may be. We had word of an evil thing in Ponyville. She is going to take care of it. She will return soon, I am reasonably sure.”

~~ ~~

Swift Feather lay in her sleeping stall in Fortress Canterlot. She hated garrison duty. She wanted to FLY. To carry out the good orders of her Princesses, so recently crowned.

Sleep came at last. With it came a dream. She saw her Princess Luna. She looked the same as the Princess that she knew except that somehow she seemed older, more experienced.

In her Dream, her Princess gave her the most welcome of orders. “Kit up, Swift Feather. Full battle gear. We have a wrong to put to rights.”

With the speed of dream, Swift Feather was ready. “Where are we going? What is it that we need to do, my Princess?”

The Dark Princess replied, “Follow me. It is not far by dream, though the distance is greater than mere leagues.

“Your wise leadership has secured us a great and mostly peaceful kingdom. We are going to stop one who would spoil the simple fun of many foals.”

Their wings spread, they flew through the mighty stone walls of the Fortress of Canterlot. Swift Feather saw in wonder, the very land beneath their wings change. The flying years beneath them saw forests grow and die. Fields planted and harvested in the blink of an eye, the stroke of a wing.

A town grew suddenly beneath them and Luna spiraled down, Swift Feather following. Luna pointed silently to a small herd of foals in outlandish costumes. They gathered at the door of a home and sang, “Nightmare Night! What a fright! Give us something sweet to bite!”

The smiling householder, also in costume, hoofed around a bowl of treats. The young ones eagerly took some, placing them into bags.

Luna directed, “Go and join them. Take with you this bag for your sweets. I promise that your skills will be needed soon.”

Puzzled, Swift Feather did as asked by her Princess. Settling her weapons properly for parade, she stepped out of the darkness and joined the foals.

They looked at her light aerial battle armor, with its bracers protecting her legs and wing joints. Her chanfron battle helmet, chain armor for her guts and steel for her flight muscles, spine and back.

One of them, in a sort of goblin costume, asked in wonder, “Wow! You look like a warrior from Fortress Canterlot! Who are you dressed as?”

Catching the mood, Swift Feather replied, “Good guess! I am Swift Feather, Flight Leader and Wing Commander to the Princesses Celestia and Luna of Fortress Canterlot!”

A little witch costumed filly commented, “Your outfit looks like real armor and weapons! Could I look at your shield and spear?”

Swift Feather nodded indulgently and held out her small targe and carefully unslung her air combat spear with its fins to guide its fall if it was used against a ground target.

Emboldened, the foals crowded about to examine her war gear. One bold colt tapped her breastplate. Awed, he said, “That is real steel. My dad is a smith. This is a totally awesome costume! It would be right at home in a museum!”

As Swift Feather replaced her spear and and small targe-sheild she understood what Princess Luna meant by a distance of more than mere leagues. Remembering the rest of her instruction, she thoughtfully settled her weapons for instant use.

She joined the happy chant of the foals and was given her fair share of the treats as well as many compliments on her costume.

Soon the group started up a street with brush and a stone wall on one side.

Remembering that she was to right a wrong and that there was one who would try to spoil the foal's fun, she cautioned, “Let me lead you. This place does not look safe to me. It could be an ambush.”

The foals, thinking it a game, did fall in behind her.

Rory lunged out, swinging his scythe! The foals screamed and fell back.

Swift Feather's targe caught Rory's deadly blade and deflected it up past her head! She dove in close, using her spear shaft to block Rory from pulling his scythe back!

Enraged at the failure of his trick, Rory tried to spin about so that he could continue what was now a real attack! When the vicious swing was just starting, Swift Feather stabbed! The combination of his spin and her thrust drove the spear deep into his shoulder!

The scythe clattered safely away across the cobbles! Shocked, Rory screamed his agony! He was down and kicking frantically!

The astounded foals watched the combat in utter amazement! Not one dropped a loot bag! Swift Feather pulled back, her targe at the ready, a short, pointed stabbing sword at the guard in her skilled hoof.

Assured that the enemy was down and safe, she directed in her best military manner, “One of you get a constable! The rest search those bushes! He has stolen other foal's treats! We must see if they can be returned to their proper foals!”

The youngsters, responding to her air of total authority, sprang to follow her orders! The smith's colt sprinted up the street for help! The others found the loot bags in Rory's hidden ambush place.

The situation now under control, Swift Feather heard the voice of Dream, of Princess Luna, speaking in mind, “You have done very well, this night, Swift Feather! Fly back with me across the ages to your well earned rest.”

She took off in a thunder of wings. A watching filly said admiringly, “Look how well she can fly with all of that armor!”

Together, Swift Feather and Luna flew across ages back to Fortress Canterlot and through its stout stone walls. Swift Feather saw her sleeping self and faded into her body. Lips curled into a smile for her good dream of righting a wrong.

When she awoke, she found a bag with treats in it under her pillow.

~~ ~~

In Ponyville, the Constable Crager was trying to make sense of the scene. The foals were the only witnesses and they would not budge from their story. “It was Flight Leader Swift Feather from Fortress Canterlot! She said so herself!”

Looking at the antique design of the aerial battle spear in Rory's shoulder and then at the big scythe laying in the street, Constable Crager could almost believe it. The Ambulance Ponies were getting Rory stabilized for removal to Ponyville General Horspital.

One commented, “We are going to have to get that spear out of his shoulder to get him into the ambulance!”

The blacksmith's colt pointed to the spear and said, “No you don't. Look, Swift Feather is taking it back to Fortress Canterlot!”

The solid seeming spear lodged in Rory's shoulder quietly faded away like a dream upon awakening. The wound that it left behind, however, failed to fade at all.

~THE END~

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#IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN . . .#MLP Fan Fiction #Tales to read AFTER the Lights are OUT #Written by De Writer

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artistic-writer · 6 years

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Between Now and Nether :: Ch 11 :: A CS AU

Title: Between Now and Nether by @artistic-writer [full res fanart]

Summary: On their way to a Nolan Charity Gala, tragedy befalls Emma and Killian who is given just seven days to set things right. Can he make Emma believe and escape the Nether before he is lost forever?

Rating: T+

AO3 Chapters: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11] Fanart Full Resolution: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11]

A/N: Graham and Emma follow Killian’s instructions and head to the bank - what’s inside the safety deposit box? What will they find? How will it all tie into Killian and Liam’s murders?

Future updates will be Sundays AND Thursdays! (providing I can get the art made in time)

Forever thanks to @kmomof4 for beta’ing the shit out of this thing! You are seriously the best! And a massive thank you to @hollyethecurious who has been there to listen to me bitch and scream about this thing, and all the while she has had a smile on her face (i hope…there is an ocean between us - YOU’D BETTER BE SMILING!)

Taglist: @mariakov81 @rouhn @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke@hookedonapirate @galadriel26 @aye-captn @the-captains-ayebrows @yayimallamaagain @i-nvr-wrote-it @officerrogerss @kiwistreetswan @wellhellotragic @depechemode75 @distant-rose@yrellow-bugs-and-pirate-ships

If you would like to be added please let me know for ch 11!

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Graham wasn’t quite sure how Emma had persuaded him to escort her to the bank. She had made very little sense, ranting about some files that Liam had on Gold and how Killian had hidden them away on his brother's death. Graham considered himself a good detective, and although still very green, he would like to think that if a colleague was undertaking some off the books investigation, he would have noticed.

Apparently not.

Emma had continued to try and convince him on the way to the bank, her eagerness to get there making her words tumble from her mouth in quick succession, her hands flailing wildly as she tried to explain. Everybody knew about the Jones murder. How could they not? A cold case where two boys were left orphaned, their lives taking them in exactly the same direction where they became cops and fought for justice in the world.

Now that Graham thought about it, the fact that both Jones brothers had been so eager to not mention their parent’s cold case should have been a red flag.

He wouldn’t have been able to do anything about Liam because he was still a beat cop when Liam was alive, but he knew them both through Emma. Graham had met Emma at the policy training academy and they had become good friends as they completed their training, even going as far as renting an apartment together. Both of them were as competitive as the other, and so they bounced off of each other constantly, using their entire training as a way to prove who was better once and for all.

As it turned out, Emma was slightly better. She always got better scores, was always faster and more adept at combat, and she had been promoted long before Graham to the role of detective. Emma had a rough start in her own life, and Graham always wondered if that was what had given her the inspiration to succeed. Failure was not in Emma Swan’s vocabulary. And when she was promoted, that was when she had met Killian Jones.

The younger Jones brother was a detective like his big brother, both of them working out of the same precinct. He was a few years older than Emma and when she had been given the paperwork explaining that she was to report to Det. Jones the next day, she had sat up all evening the night before, unloading all of her worries onto her friend. What if he was mean? She had heard stories. What if she wasn’t good enough to be a detective? What if all she was destined for what writing parking tickets and arresting drunkards from fast food restaurants?

Graham had not minded one bit, having loved Emma for as long as he had known her, but never quite having the courage to ask her if his feelings were reciprocated. He had told her that she was perfect, a great cop and she would make an even better detective. He knew it. She had passed the detective’s exam with top scores, could chase down a perp until they were out of breath before she was and could empty an entire clip into a center mass bullseyes leaving minimal spacing between bullet holes. He had meant every word and wished he had the confidence to kiss her.

As it turned out, all of his own worries were alleviated that night when, under the influence of a few glasses of red wine, Emma had in no uncertain terms told him that he was a great friend and she was glad that’s all they were. Uninhibited by her alcohol, Emma had told him that whilst he was absolutely gorgeous, he didn’t make her tingle. Graham hadn’t really understood what she had meant by that until the next evening when she had returned home, a grin plastered on her face and a spring in her step.

Like an arrow to his heart, Emma had told him that her new partner, Killian Jones, made her tingle.

The last three years had been much of a blur. He and Emma were still friends, but they had drifted apart a little. After a year of dating Killian, she had decided to move out of the apartment. Graham was supportive, helping them move with his truck and even carrying boxes into their brand new home, but he couldn’t help but wonder if everything was moving so fast for them. They had only been dating a year after all, and Graham knew Emma well enough to know that she didn’t normally rush into anything so headstrong.

Two years into their relationship, Graham was surprised they were still together. They were happy, keeping a professionalism at work that gave no indication into their private lives, but Graham couldn’t help but hope that he would be the shoulder Emma cried on when Killian finally broke her heart. Graham had heard stories of the Jones brothers, like pirates, plundering their way through the women in the precinct and despite Emma’s assurances, he hoped that the rumors were true. He had hated himself for being such a bad friend, a jealous friend, who secretly wished for the destruction of his friend’s happiness so he could muscle into her life and make it all better.

And then he had felt even worse when Liam Jones, Killian’s older brother, had been murdered whilst on duty, the case still laying cold and unsolved. He had comforted Killian, stood at his shoulder whilst he had saluted his fallen brother at a funeral full of honors. He had comforted Emma and joined the rest of the precinct in heading to the local bar to commemorate their fallen colleague, but that was when his life had taken a darker turn.

Years of pent up, unrequited love for his friend, fuelled by far too many whiskeys, had ended with him opening his mouth to tell Emma how he really felt. She had slapped him, he remembered it like it was yesterday, the sting on his cheek almost as painful as the stab to his heart. What had made his situation worse was the fact that, at Liam Jones’ wake, he had told her how Killian was no good for her. That had earned him a little more than a slap and he and Killian had to be dragged apart as they brawled, emotions raging, and Emma stepping between them and unleashing a tirade of profanity his way that he absolutely deserved.

From then on, their relationship had been strained. They only really interacted at work and as if anyone needed any more proof as to how perfect Killian was, he had walked up to Graham one day and shook his hand, telling him that despite what was going on between them, Emma didn’t have to lose her friend because of it. Graham hated Killian for his chivalry but hated himself even more.

“Emma, slow down!” Graham pleaded, narrowly avoiding traffic and offering the annoyed driver an apologetic smile as he struggled to keep up with her across the busy street. Emma had just been missed by the car and it had skidded to a stop just as Graham had tried to follow her, cutting him off from his pursuit.

Emma strode confidently forward, ignoring the honks and shouts from motorists as she stepped out into the traffic again. She clutched at the charm around her neck, letting the metal dig into her palm as she determinedly headed towards the bank, heeled boots scuffing the ground on every step.

“You know, I could write you up for jay-walking,” Graham panted, finally catching up to her across another lane.

“Go for it,” Emma huffed, her hair whipping behind her as she reached the curb and looked up at the bank. The building was huge, mammoth, the largest building on the block, and reminded Emma of a courthouse with large white stone columns at the top of round edge stone steps.

“Don’t be annoyed,” Graham implored, clutching his sides as he fought to catch his breath. It seemed Emma was still fitter than he was.

“I’m not,” Emma shrugged, not looking back at him. “Why would I be? I told my friend that I could help solve the murder of my boyfriend, possibly the murders of three other people, and he laughed it off.”

“I didn’t laugh…” Graham began but Emma spun to face him and cut him off.

“You laughed,” Emma jabbed her finger into his shoulder, pushing harder than she needed to. “I told you Killian was still with me and you laughed.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Graham relented, holding out one hand in defense while he rubbed at his shoulder with the other. “But look at it from my perspective, Emma,” Graham stepped towards her. “Listen to yourself.”

“You don’t believe me,” Emma said, hurt lacing her words.

“Emma, you told me the spirit of your dead boyfriend has possessed my body and was telling you how to solve his murder.” Graham looked at her, the words sounding even more irrational coming out of his mouth.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Emma said gruffly, rubbing her hand over her forehead.

“Crazy doesn’t cover it,” Graham sighed, resting his hands on his hips and licking his lips. “It sounds…”

“Don’t you think I know how it sounds?” Emma snapped. “But how else do you explain your lost time? The deja vu?”

Graham paused, considering her words with a frown. He had lost time, twice, and both times he had found himself inexplicably in Emma’s kitchen.

“Plus, you’d remember kissing me, right?” Emma prodded him, grabbing his attention.

“We kissed?” Graham sounded shocked and Emma nodded.

“And you would have remembered that, right Humbert?” She grinned at him and his features paled. “It’s like, the one thing you have always wanted, if I remember Liam’s wake correctly.”

“Not my finest hour,” Graham admitted dryly. “But yes, I would have remembered that.”

“And you would have definitely remembered kissing me more than twice, right? Taking me in your arms and holding me?” Emma told him.

“God, Emma, you’re killing me here,” Graham laughed nervously, shaking his head and looking back down to his feet as she relayed the information to him that he had done these things and the reason he couldn’t remember was that it wasn’t actually him.

“Which reminds me…” Emma said finally and Graham looked up at her again, his soft, curled hair falling over his forehead. “..When the hell did you start manscaping?”

Laughter erupted between them and Graham’s face flushed hot with pink. He wasn’t sure exactly how Emma would have known that, but it was true. In an attempt to make himself more appealing to the ladies, and try and forget about Emma, he had begun to shave his chest and body hair. And it had worked. If only sleeping with other women could make him stop thinking about Emma.

“How did you…?” Graham eyed her suspiciously.

“Killian,” She said simply. “Believe me now? This isn’t just grief,” Emma told him more seriously. “I know you and Killian didn’t always see eye to eye, but I am asking you to trust me, as my friend.”

“Is that what I am?” Graham narrowed his eyes.

“Of course you are,” Emma said firmly and his cheeks began to flush as he looked down at his shoes. “And I’m sorry if you ever thought of us as anything more.”

Graham looked up at her and inhaled hard, his body finally catching its breath and fulling inflating his lungs to satisfaction. He stared at her for a second and didn’t know how to respond. She could have blamed him, told him that it wasn’t her fault that she never loved him back, but she hadn’t. She could have said so many things, but she apologised, and Graham felt the desperation in her voice hit him like a truck.

“I’m sorry too,” He smiled. “For what happened. I put my feelings and jealousy above our friendship and it was selfish.”

“Yes, it was,” Emma nodded, crossing her arms.

“And I was a total arse,” Graham smirked at her, her stance and expression a reminder of the Emma Swan he had once known so well.

“Yes, you were,” Emma agreed.

“Alright, alright,” Graham rolled his eyes and waved her forward, following her as she began to ascend the steps to the bank. “Let’s see what’s in the box.”

After having to flash his badge more than once at some of the bank staff, Graham and Emma were led through a back room by the manager. The room they had ended up in was lined floor to ceiling with tiny, envelope sized slots, each one numbered with a tiny polished brass plate with a number etched into its surface. There was a huge table in the middle of the room and the bank manager offered them a seat with a gesture of his hand.

“Mrs. Jones,” he smiled but it was forced, a mixture of pity and sorrow.

Graham looked at Emma with a quizzical look, but she ignored him and nodded. “That’s right,” she agreed, clasping the charm around her neck even harder.

“Your husband left us very strict instructions with this box,” he told her matter of factly, moving around the room as he spoke. “I was only to give you access if…”

“...If he died,” she finished for him and he let out a thankful sigh at not having to have to say the words.

“Exactly,” he nodded, thrusting his key into the numbered box on the wall and turning it with a click. Graham watched him slide the long, metal box from its crevice and carry it to the table. The manager slid it down onto the surface, its weight causing it to almost fall from his hands as he did so. “I trust you have the key already?”

Emma nodded. “Thank you.”

“Then I will leave you to it,” he nodded at Graham, a little nervous as to why the police were present at all. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my office. The door will lock when I leave, but you can leave at any time from the inside.”

“We’ll be fine,” Graham told him with a fake smile and irritation in his voice and with that, he was gone, the door sliding closed with a soft click and locking itself with a sliding sound.

Emma ran her hands over the edges of the box, the metal cold under her fingertips. She was nervous. She knew what was inside, but she wasn’t sure if she was prepared to know the why behind Killian’s murder.

“Number thirteen? Are you kidding me?” Graham laughed as he read the number on the box. “If only Killian knew he would be sending us here from beyond the grave.”

Emma ignored his words, hands resting on the box in front of her with a pale stare.

“Emma, are you okay?” Graham asked with a cocked head and a frown.

“Hmm?” Emma hummed, looking at him quickly. “Oh yeah. It’s just…” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and Graham put his hand over hers, tracing her knuckles with his thumb.

“You don’t have to be here,” he offered her an out. “I can open it if you’d like.”

“It’s just…” She said again, taking a deep breath. “...I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Graham said softly, grabbing the chair beside her and sinking down into the seat silently. The room was so quiet there was a distant hum in the air that rang in their ears. “Killian would have told you about this if he thought you’d be safe, you know that.”

Emma nodded, quickly wiping the tear that had rolled down her cheek. Graham was right. Everything Killian had ever done was with her best interests in mind and he had made sure she was safe from Gold by never telling her about this box. It made Emma turn cold, knowing that whatever was inside had actually got not one, but two Jones’ killed. She took one last deep breath and fiddled with the necklace around her neck, pulling the sword from its sheath and exposing the key.

“Huh, look at that,” Graham smirked, impressed. The tiny key slid from the charm effortlessly and the only way you would realise it was a key was the tiny teeth along one edge and the number thirteen etched into the blade in black lettering. “Jones, you sneaky son of a bitch.”

“Ready?” Emma asked, sliding the key into the keyhole and looking at Graham. “This might put you in danger, Graham. You can still leave if you want to.”

“No going back now,” Graham smiled weakly.

Emma blew out a breath and turned the key, the mechanism springing open and the lid popping loose.

#cs ff #cs fic #cs au fic #cs au #between now and nether #ch11 #artistic-writer #fanartforfanfic #angst #hurt #adventure #mystery #cs halloweek

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