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twwpress · 1 year

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Creator Spotlight #14: fleurfemme

Welcome back to the TWW Author Spotlight! For every spotlight, we’ll ask each featured author the same ten questions (as well as questions you submitted on Twitter!). This week we’re pleased to be chatting with abby (@jenniferjolie on Twitter and fleurfemme on AO3)!

1) What are your top 5 desert island fics by other authors?

1) kiss me and crucify me (by crossingdelancey)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32800243

I feel like I have this fic permanently open in a tab on my phone's browser. Cjtoby hate sex — hot and passionate and angsty.

2) Salomé (by crossingdelancey)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41530527

Another fic by my fave author :') This cjandy hate sex fic was a gift for me. It's a little more intense; I love when CJ gets to be fiery ♥️

3) Lather. Rinse. Repeat. (by Michelle K.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37590034

This Donna-centric fic has a little of everything. It's a wonderful taste of early-2000s charm that only fics of the time can capture. So many layers, so many women.

4) Stuck in the Middle with You (by JediAnnieScrambler)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34346431

A cjtobyandy kinktober oneshot ♥️

5) something else (by jazzjo)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43045845

A sweet little CjDonna fic Eli gifted me after I made a CjDonna tropes edit ♥️♥️ so cute

2) Do you have a favorite character to write? Favorite ship(s) to write? Are there characters or ships you'd like to write more of?

I think Margaret might be be my favorite character to write. I don't write Margaret centric stories, but the second I bring her in to any scene, I can't stop giggling. Jed and Donna are also really fun to write dialogue for.

So far, when it comes to ships, I've had the most fun writing Ellie Bartlet x Sidney Prescott in my crossover fics. Also AmyDonna! Donna is just the sweetest woman and she deserves all the love in the world.

I plan to write more CJ fics in the future and look forward to it!

3) Tell us about your writing process (setup/location? Night or day? Snacks/beverages? Computer/phone/notebook? Music or silence? Anything else you want to share is welcome!)

I’ll write on my phone on the train at 6:30am or on my laptop while lying in bed at 2am. I’m very chill when it comes to a routine; I like to keep it loose so I can get into a good creative flow.

4) What writing advice do you have for others who may be reading this?

Don't be afraid to write outside of what's popular! Don't create pointless rules for yourself as a way to stop yourself from writing.

5) From where do you usually draw your inspiration? (Other forms of media, music, tropes, etc?)

My ideas are most often based on what area of a given relationship (romantic or platonic) I'm interested in exploring.

6) What is the fic you've written that you're most proud of and why?

Probably Red, White, and Boo! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/41606586/chapters/104361426) Completed for Halloween, it’s a campy horror-comedy/whodunnit, and a crossover with the Scream trilogy. Combining the worlds of some of my all time favorite characters (in a way that made sense for folks who've never seen Scream), two styles of humor, and the stakes of a horror with TWW's dramedy tone was a huge challenge, but I'm so proud looking back at it. I had a blast writing it and getting to hear reactions to the drama and elements of the mystery has been so rewarding.

7) What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd read 1000 of? What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd write 1000 of?

I love reading fics about hotel room hook-ups during the campaign.

I'll write a thousand soft and awkward and giggly smut fics ♥️♥️ I also never get tired of using scars during intimacy scenes

8) Is there anything you'd like to try writing-wise that you haven't yet?

I've never written an au for tww, but I've been thinking about a girl band au! CJ on bass, Andy lead vocals, Amy on drums, Abbey as the band's manager. We'll see if I get around to it!

9) What's your go-to Starbucks/coffee shop/other drink order?

I don’t drink coffee but I do enjoy a double chocolate chip frap from Starbucks!

10) Do you have any current projects you'd like to promote or anything upcoming you'd like to tell us about?

My first CJ x Joey Lucas fic is currently in progress, so stay tuned for that!

Submitted questions:

From @S4MWILS0N:

fave season & ep? season 3, Dead Irish Writers!

fave character and ship? Characters: Toby, CJ, Amy, Abbey Ships: AndyToby as an endgame ship, but I love CJToby, AmyDonna, and CJDonna

most underrated character and ship? CJDonna!!! Also JoshJoey - not as an endgame thing, just a little treat

what was ur fave part of writing rwb? the humor and the girl bossery

two ships to have a double date? AndyToby and CJDonna

fave and least fave plot arc? I looove CJ’s season one arc of being treated like shit to being respected. Also love her arc at the end of s3! I hate the leak arc but I’ve only watched 80% of seasons 6-7 because I’m not really a fan of the election plots in general

funniest canon one liner? everything Toby Ziegler has ever said tbh

fave detail in one of ur fics? in RWB when Margaret says she can't count sheep before bed because her dreams take place prior to the domestication of sheep

draft snippet that never became anything? a JoshDonna fic based on the line about him looking good in a collar. Maybe I'll finish it... we shall see

From @claudiasjeans: ABBY MY LOVE what is your favorite ship that you’ve never written? what got you into tww?

cjtobyandy probably! I started watching TWW when I was like 14 because I was a huge Kristin Chenoweth fan!!

From @kennysroys: What inspired you to take the risk of writing Red, White and Boo? What was your favorite part? The hardest part? What motivated you to write this AU?

A joke Alyssa (@abbeybartlet) made about Danny and Will being Ghostface inspired RWB! I'd also already written a 20k+ word tww/scream crossover, so I knew how well the characters worked together. My favorite part was having the girlies from both canons interact... CJ/Gale is such an interesting dynamic, Amy/Jennifer are chaotic bffs, and Ellie/Sidney make such a good couple. I love them sm.

The hardest part was balancing such a large ensemble. While the story focuses largely on the story of CJ, Donna, and Gale Weathers as their support, I wrote scenes centered on Mandy, Zoey, Ainsley, Josh, Ellie, Amy, and more. Such a whirlwind, but I had a great time.

I stayed motivated thanks to the handful of readers leaving encouraging comments after every chapter. Couldn't have done it without that ♥️

From @kennysroys: Since you’re such a big Amy fan what would you ask or say to Mary Louise Parker about her if given the chance?

I'd love to ask her about Amy's dynamic with various characters—specifically Abbey and Donna. I'd also be curious to hear her perspective on playing a supporting character who represents such a large group's voice on the show... How did she approach the responsibility? Also, how did she shape her performance to fit into a show that was already on its third season? Things like that ♥️

From @kennysroys: Favorite TWW fan content to consume (fancams, edits, fics)?

I love gifs and silly screenshots

From @donnamossburner: If you could rewrite an episode - what episode would you write and what would you change?

I would add Ellie to Dead Irish Writers. Let her drink on the couch with Abbey and Amy and drunkenly ramble about her mother as a Doctor and call her father a jackass <3

From @donnamossburner: What is your present day head canon for the characters?

TobyAndy endgame, Andy runs for President, CJ becomes a professor and marries a beautiful and charming woman, Donna works for a non-profit with Amy.

From @sameschtick:

Which minor character(s) do you wish we got to see more of and why? On my knees begging for more Andy Wyatt.

Favourite post-canon hcs? CJ (and Donna) take a six-month long trip to Europe for a tour of hot romantic conquests.

One detail of canon you’d like scrubbed from the record? Ellie's marriage... They truly set her up as a relatable sad lesbian and then 5 seasons later made a joke about how she's actually not a lesbian and made her marry a man... 0/10 stars

Thanks again to abby for participating in the spotlight, and thanks to everyone who contributed questions! If you’d like to be featured in a future spotlight, drop us a DM here or on Twitter (@twwpress), or email us at [email protected].

xx, What’s next?

#the west wing #west wing #tww #tww fandom #tww fic rec #cj cregg #andy wyatt #toby ziegler #amy gardner #cjandy #cjtoby #scream fandom #donna moss #ellie bartlet #abbey bartlett #amydonna #cjdonna #creator spotlight

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underpreparedbard · 2 years

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sir those are my emotional support 6 month old browser tabs

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (1/17)

Summary: "Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn't exist. Everything is a choice." At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him."

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn't.

Note: This has been sitting on my computer untouched for a while, along with the timeline I prepared for a multichapter fic. Will probs go back to it soon. Feedback is very much appreciated.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Link to cross-postings: AO3

In dreams people only see faces they already know.

It was an interesting fact Levi had probably come across, lazily scrolling through his social media timelines or opening countless tabs after getting into some Wikipedia blackhole in between the long days of schools and the short nights asleep.

He spent a fair amount of time on the internet, reading up about whatever bullshit politics came up with, controversies and bathroom reader fun facts. During his first year of college, it had stuck to him for a time. Maybe because it just seemed too unrealistic, too unbelievable.

After all, ever since he had started college, he felt like he had been dreaming of more and more unfamiliar faces. It could have been attributed at least to the fact that he was exposed to more people in a crowded city than he had been in the small town he grew up in. As time went by, these faces he barely recognized though, had become the main actors in his dream.

The long haired boy with the elvish features. The man with the clean cut appearance and a glint of mischief in his eyes. The oriental girl with subtle European features. The cheeky girl with a beat up pair of glasses and unkempt hair.

They and many others had been regulars in his dreams and Levi had come up with names for them already, names he remembered muttering, names he screamed multiple times in his head. By the time he woke up to the four walls of his bedroom a few hours before his first class, they were vague memories, only as intelligible as his view of the world right after waking up.

Some mornings, he had found himself more exhausted than when he had slept. Some mornings, he found his throat sore from screaming. Some days, his eyes were swollen from crying.

He lived alone in a dormitory and he had wanted to infer that it had been homesickness that had made those nightmares possible. He had never really abhorred being alone though, in fact he liked the privacy that came with having his own room.

He quickly shot down that theory and did not think too much about it soon after. His daily life did not give him too much time to ponder such fleeting and abstract of a concept as dreams in between lessons and training.

The dreams never left him, some days they were more vivid than others. After a few years of navigating academics, trainings, and obligations, Levi had gotten used to brushing off that one tear he’d get as he woke up, taking a lozenge to soothe the sore throat or just leaving the lights off in his room to alleviate the pounding headache he would get some mornings.

Daily life and obligations never did allow him the time and space to ponder too much on those dreams. Levi chalked it up to stress and unexplained trauma, easily soothed by ten minutes scrolling through social media or hours reorganizing his room for the third time that week.

Financial and time constraints made it impossible as well to even consider consulting about it and Levi found himself compartmentalizing those dreams into those few hours of sleep he got at night and the one hour he allowed himself each day to adjust to the waking world.

The line blurred one night though when one of those names was nonchalantly mentioned among others.

"Hange Zoe..."

It was just one name in a list recited by their coach before they were all dismissed for the evening. Sandwiched between a few other names before and after it, it wasn't supposed to stand out like that. Oddly, it did.

As Levi rode his bike to his dormitory room after a tiring day of training, he found himself repeating that name again and again. He tried to make sense of the odd familiarity which came with a name he could have sworn he had never heard before.

A family friend? A childhood friend?

Levi entertained those possibilities. Having grown up in a small town, his family friends and childhood friends consisted of everyone in that tight knit community and he could have listed out all their names then and there. She wasn’t part of it.

To at least, satisfy his own curiosity, Levi had sent a message to his parents before going to sleep. Just in case he had met her before.

Levi woke up the next morning, his throat a little scratchier, his body a little more tired. The first thing he did was check his phone.

Hange Zoe wasn’t a family friend.

Levi put the covers over himself and closed his eyes. His head was pounding and his chest was heavy. He had only noticed a moment later that his eyes were wet, his breaths were coming out in heaves.

What did I dream about this time?

Levi needed the whole morning to recover.

A Tale of Two Slaves

Levi managed at least to drag himself out of bed for afternoon training. By then, others have already started warming up. Levi wondered if he would be able to carry his body through a warm up jog, given his state only a few hours ago.

In the end, getting the jog done became a matter of discipline more than anything else and he had finished well above everyone else.

He had always been faster, given his smaller build and he had the natural muscle and athletic skill to be versatile as well. That was what made him stand out as the best athlete in the track and field team. He never cared too much either way about the admiration many of his teammates held towards him.

The recurring nightmares and the aftermaths of these though had left Levi averse to human interaction. Ironically, as he moved away from his small town and into the bigger city, his world had gotten smaller. Levi found himself keeping his world only wide enough to win track and field events and pass classes.

No man could really ever be an island though, no matter how much they try. Levi soon found that out when he saw that aforementioned Hange Zoe on the side of the track, talking to one of their coaches.

“This is Hange Zoe.”

“You can call me Hange.”

Levi did not need that quick introduction his coach had just given him. Somehow, the name and the face just clicked inside him. He looked expectantly at his coach and back at Hange.

Hange held out her hand to him and smiled. “I heard you’re the best one in the team. Coach Greg spoke highly of you.”

Levi narrowed his eyes at her. “What's she doing here?”

“Didn’t I tell you last time? Some of the premed students wanted to do case studies on athletes here for their final thesis. If you could help them out?” The coach turned to Hange. “Levi here is one of our best jumpers. He holds a pretty good record for sprinting, hurdles and throwing events as well.”

“Your jogging form looks amazing! I’d love to see you in action.”

Levi was not prepared for the invasion of privacy that came a second after. Hange held both of his hands towards her and leaned closer towards him. Before Levi could even stop himself, he had pushed her away and ran, the screaming of his coach to come back had become mere muffled screams in the background.

The only reason Levi did drag himself to training was for the fact that it was still one of the few hobbies he found complete calm yet complete liberation in. Those few moments after launching himself up in the air, those magical few moments high up in the air with only the empty sky above him, Levi felt free.

As Levi powered through, he found within him a burst of energy, built up from an idle morning cooped up in his room.

He had done those same drills so many times before. The excitement he got from flying through the air and running easily took over whatever exhaustion and rattledness plagued him only a second ago. He let his body memory guide him through each drill, concentrating his consciousness on other things like the cool wind on his skin as he shot through the track and the purple sky that stretched above as he performed horizontal jumps.

If Levi had been any more aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed his teammates leaving the track one by one. Maybe, he would have noticed as he started moving to the hurdles that the purple sky was slowly turning into a dark blue and the scenery around him was becoming just a little more than shadows.

It was nothing new. Levi had stayed behind to work on other skills multiple times and his coach and teammates had just learned to leave the club room open. Levi would leave an extra thirty minutes to an hour later than his companions,

At that training though, with little incentive to break away from that small bubble he had built for himself, not a lot of things could have broken his concentration. Fifteen minutes into his hurdles exercises, the distraction came. Levi was raising one leg, positioning himself to jump a hurdle when he caught a shadow from his peripherals.

Someone had been watching him in the dark.

He was alone. Or he was supposed to be alone at least.

The combination of those realizations and the exhaustion that threatened to take over Levi only caused Levi to stumble on the hurdle in front of him and fall forward onto cold ground.

“Hey! You okay?”

It was that same voice from that same conversation Levi had walked away from just an hour ago. The voice was as loud and as annoying as it was an hour ago that even when his shadow was still a good few meters away, Levi remembered how it felt with her forehead once again pressed on his and her grip on his two hands.

Levi was frozen on the ground, his body still in shock at the sudden loss of control and the whiplash of what he had just imagined.

“That looked painful.” Her voice was softer than it was a second ago. Hange put her hand on his.

Levi pulled away instinctively, and winced as his palms protested the quick action. Levi looked at his palms. In the dim light, he could see three long gashes lined up in the middle. Blood was starting to come out as well.

Levi was exhausted. The impact and the aftermath of falling on the ground, front first and the friction burns that followed, only further drained what was left of his energy.

By the time Hange helped him up by the shoulders Levi was almost motionless, the small movements he made were carefully calculated for fear of aggravating the dull pain.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

A Tale of Two Slaves

“Sorry about a while ago… People say I’m just a little too intimidating but I just get really excited about these types of things. You had such a good running form. You jump so high. You get a really good height above the hurdles… “ Hange gave him a consoling look. “Except that last one.”

Hange was closer to him than what Levi would have preferred at first. Oddly, he had gotten used to it quickly enough, particularly because he had no other choice.

The gashes on his palms were bloody and painful. With little to no means to bandage them himself, he was left to rely on the only person there and as Levi soon found out, she had problems with maintaining a comfortable social distance from people.

And she never stopped talking.

“Are the bandages too tight?” Hange asked, in between other ramblings Levi had tuned out.

“‘No.” The only words Levi had said since they had arrived in the club room fifteen minutes ago.

“Okay, let’s move on to your knees.”

Levi had not surveyed the damage himself but he guessed it was probably worse than his palms from Hange’s concerned frown.

“You’re gonna need stitches for this. The clinic probably isn’t open so you might have to go to the hospital… We could call a taxi and---”

“You’re a pre-med student, can’t you do it yourself?”

Hange blushed. “You trust me to do it?”

"A trip to the hospital will just be a waste of time." Levi admitted.

Hange rummaged deeper into the first aid kit. "This is gonna be painful though."

Better than taking a trip to the hospital now. Levi braced himself for it and decided to distract himself from the discomfort of the whole ordeal.

“How does it feel? Flying in the sky like that?” Hange asked. At that point, Hange had started to talk more purposefully, as if she wanted to get a point across to him.

Levi guessed that it was all an attempt to distract him from the mini operation she was giving him. From his angle, Levi could not see the extent of the injuries, nor did he want to. The pain was bearable, although it was still much worse than what he would have considered a discomfort.

“I’ve always wanted to take a sport like that, maybe gymnastics, maybe figure skating or track and field? That’s the closest people can get to flying right?” Hange was asking too many questions but it was obvious she was not expecting answers.

Her words flowed as smoothly as the movement of the needle and thread he could see from his angle.

Something about the way she talked to him was comforting and eventually Levi had almost completely relaxed, the pain of needle to torn skin a distant memory. He lay back on the bench and closed his eyes, focusing not on her words but instead on the familiar warm tone as she spoke.

The sensation of needle to skin, the burning pain, the dizziness that followed. They were all too familiar. All accompanied by that familiar warm voice.

Maybe we should just live here together. Right Levi?

If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us.

Hange's voice tore into his daydream. “What do you mean? Are you running from something?"

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #fanfic

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mopeytropey · 4 years

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a beer buds series: chapter 6

Timeline: takes place during chapter 5 of ‘apu’ just before Lexa and Clarke get a little too drunk while watching movies (oops!) in which they fall asleep on Clarke's couch together (oops again!), subsequently commencing what I like to call The Separation

Beer: Free Rise (MOSAIC) DRY-HOPPED SAISON

This edition of Free Rise highlights locally sourced Danko Rye from Valley Malt and Mosaic in the dry hop. A nuanced fruity hop profile is balanced with subtle, crisp malt character and expressive notes of pepper and clove. Light in body, with a clean, bone-dry finish.

ABV 7.3%

Posted on AO3 here or below the cut :)

Free Rise: Trillium Brewing Co (Fenway/Boston, MA) :::

“This newer location is great, but you really need to experience their beer garden next summer on the green. Clarke is obsessed with it—chances are she’ll probably drag you there at some point.”

Lincoln says it so casually, and the image that Lexa begins to paint comes effortlessly.

She and Clarke on a day trip to Boston in mid June, sharing sips of beer and sampling local food trucks in the afternoon sun. Clarke’s rasping laughter drifting through the park as Lexa is further charmed, relaxing in the warm sun and nearby ocean breezes.

She would allow Clarke to drag her any number of places, Lexa thinks. Given the opportunity.

“I’m excited to see both locations,” she says to Lincoln, as if her mind hadn’t drifted into an idyllic landscape of some potential future.

It’s what she’s begun to sense as of late: possibility.

A recent glimmer of hope has been sparking at the periphery of Lexa’s consciousness. There’s the exhilaration of what might be possible for her and Clarke, even in its uncertainty. Even if she doesn’t have any control over it. She can feel the potential of things to come buzzing through her even now, as she and Lincoln walk under the looming, green shadows of Fenway Park.

“Have you been?” Lincoln asks, nodding towards the infamous baseball park that sits in the heart of the city, surrounded by bars and businesses and gawking tourists.

“Not yet.”

“We should go—I haven’t had anyone to hate watch the Red Sox with in years.”

Lexa smiles up at him. “A cherished pastime.”

They swap baseball stats and playoff predictions while walking down the stretch of Brookline Ave between historic Fenway and Trillium. The city air is crisp and cool, and Lexa almost wishes for a jacket, but the chill invigorates her already vibrant mood. Upcoming plans with Clarke have filled her with an unchecked buoyancy.

Costia had left that morning for her weekend away with a parting kiss to Lexa’s temple, a warm hand cupped around the back of her neck.

Safe, perfunctory. Everything that Lexa has begun to associate with Costia.

“Can we try to talk about this again when I get back?”

For once, Lexa hadn’t flinched at the mention of Costia’s research grant and its implications for their relationship. “Sure.”

The extent of their goodbye at the door of their apartment had been Costia’s soft look and Lexa’s small smile as she briefly squeezed Costia’s fingers.

There had been a time when impending distance felt torturous—longing would spring up after only hours apart, and Lexa would ache to see her again.

Those moments for them, like so many others, are gone now.

And, if they have lost their weight, if they are no more than performative interactions between them, Lexa has begun to wonder: what’s left?

What is it that has kept her clinging to Costia so willfully?

Lexa has always excelled at making sense of her life and maintaining control, even amidst the chaos and unpredictability that has so often plagued her. She considers herself a rational person with a reasonable sense of the world, particularly the mechanics of her interpersonal relationships.

Being with Costia had been no different. From the very start, they just made sense. Lexa has always found comfort in the expected, seeking logic and practicality in her daily life.

At least, historically.

Ever since Clarke (clumsily) breezed into her life, Lexa hasn’t felt entirely reasonable about much of anything. Clarke is still unfamiliar in many ways. Her entire friendship has been fortuitous, unprecedented. It’s the first time in Lexa’s entire life that she has been irrevocably drawn towards such palpable uncertainty.

“This weather is perfect—I love it up here at this time of year,” Lincoln says.

Lexa breathes in deeply, anchoring herself to this moment and quieting the thoughts of her indeterminate future. “It’s great,” she smiles and continues in stride with Lincoln’s comforting shadow cast over her.

:::

The taproom is stunning: polished wood in every direction, exposed light bulbs hanging from an open ceiling, and thirty-foot glass doors stretching along an entire wall. In the warmer months, Lexa imagines the doors opening to a cluttered patio. In the early autumn temperatures, the patio is empty and half of the room inside is bathed in natural light while the other remains dim and cozy.

Lincoln heads straight for the bar counter. While a handful of other patrons have favored the couches near the windows, the bar sits empty.

“Hey guys.” A woman around their age approaches from behind the bar. She slides two menus in front of them as Lexa takes her seat beside Lincoln. “Here’s what we’re currently pouring on tap. Cans are listed at the bottom. You need a minute?”

“That’d be great. Thanks,” Lincoln answers.

The woman walks away with a smile that Lexa catches only as she looks up from her menu.

Lincoln drums his hands against the counter top. “Oh shit, I know what I’m getting.”

“That was quick,” Lexa says, returning her attention to the draft pours.

“Their gose is ridiculously good.”

“I think I’m going to do the farmhouse.”

“Did you two decide?” The bartender is already approaching as Lexa glances up from her menu. “Sorry—I wasn’t trying to hover, but it’s pretty dead in here today.”

“No worries.” Lexa offers a brief smile and watches the woman’s face transform, brightening as she stops directly in front of her and braces her arms against the edge of the counter.

“I’m gonna do the gose,” Lincoln says.

“And, I’ll do the Free Rise,” Lexa adds.

“That one is my favorite,” the bartender responds, grinning at Lexa as she retrieves their menus. “Be right back with those for you.”

“Thank you,” Lexa says while reaching for her phone that has buzzed twice from the front pocket of her jeans.

She’s fighting a grin at the messages she finds, simultaneously typing her response as Clarke continues her barrage of nonsense, and doesn’t catch the odd look Lincoln is giving her until she slides her phone onto the bar top.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, still looking too pleased for Lexa’s comfort. “So, what else are you up to this weekend? You wanna come check out the new poke bowl spot with me and O tomorrow?”

“I’m supposed to watch movies with Clarke tomorrow night—what time were you thinking of going?”

“No idea. I’ll let you know though. Or, you know, bring her with you. We can make it a foursome.”

His suggestion has her ridiculously flustered for what could be no more than an invitation to hang out with three of her friends. But, it’s Lincoln, and Lexa knows better than to underestimate his scheming.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll, um, I’ll ask her,” Lexa answers, almost immediately distracted again by the vibration of her phone.

She’s still rolling her eyes at Clarke’s entirely ridiculous diatribe about the validity of poorly written screenplays of the early 90s when the woman behind the bar returns with their drinks.

“Here we go. Should I start a tab for you?”

“Um, sure,” Lincoln responds. He fishes out his debit card from his wallet and slides it across the bar counter.

“I really love your sweater, by the way.”

There’s a brief, weighted pause following the sound of the woman’s voice, and Lexa looks up from her phone when she realizes the compliment was meant for her.

“Oh. Thanks.” She flashes another momentary smile before reaching for her beer and sending off her scathing rebuke for Clarke’s lack of cinematic prowess.

The absolute ire that it will produce and the irritated messages that will follow almost make Lexa giggle in public. Pushing Clarke’s buttons has become an accidentally honed skill.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you not the same person who told me—not two weeks ago—that having beautiful women flirting with you typically grabs your attention?”

Lexa closes her phone instantly, replacing it to her jeans pocket where she hopes it will be safe from Lincoln’s insightful observations. Like getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she attempts to clear her face of any guilt as she looks over at Lincoln because Clarke had not been flirting with her in the first place. They have merely been discussing preferences in film through a medium of quick wit and lightly antagonistic banter.

“What are you talking about?”

Lincoln’s voice drops to an even lower volume as he leans towards her. “That bartender has been chatting you up since we walked in, and you seem to be on another planet right now.”

“She was not—”

“Oh-ho-ho,” Lincoln laughs. “Believe me. She definitely was.”

Lexa chances a quick glance down the length of the bar towards the woman polishing glassware. She looks up before Lexa can avert her gaze, and that same smile is back. Lexa’s stomach drops regretfully.

She hadn’t registered the blatant interest from their bartender nor her physical features, which are, objectionably, quite attractive.

Damn it, Lincoln.

“How is it?” the woman calls out, and Lexa raises her glass with a forced smile.

She takes a sip, pretending it isn’t her first, and can actually feel Lincoln fighting a smile to her left. “It’s great. Thanks.”

“Maybe having multiple beautiful woman flirting with you simultaneously is throwing you off,” Lincoln stage whispers, gleefully watching Lexa’s discomfort until she kicks his leg with the toe of her sneaker.

“I’m ignoring you now.”

“Oh good,” Lincoln laughs, “this should be a fun hang then.”

Lexa’s phone continues to alert her of Clarke’s persistence, or so she assumes by the rapidity at which it vibrates. Clarke never sends one, moderate length text when she could send 12 fragmented messages in quick succession. She reaches into her pocket to silence her notifications when Lincoln gently pokes a finger into her tricep.

“I’m just giving you a hard time. You know I don’t give a shit if you text Clarke while we hang out. She’s my buddy.”

“Why are you assuming I was texting with Clarke?” Lexa can hear the edge to her voice and reaches for a drink of her saison to lessen her defenses.

“Wild guess.”

Even Lexa is relatively powerless to Lincoln’s smirking charm and fights a smile of her own when their eyes meet.

“We’re debating movie selections for tomorrow,” she shares. “Her taste in film is generally abhorrent.”

“You two are always fighting about something.”

“Not intentionally. But, Clarke can be very … frustrating,” Lexa admits with a soft scowl into her beer. Lincoln laughs in response and she exhales. “We’re extremely different people.”

“Yeah, but differences are good. At least she keeps things interesting.”

Lexa barely manages not to choke on her beer, swallowing inelegantly. “That is one way to put it.”

“So, Costia is gone until Monday?”

Lexa tries not to let the abrupt change in conversation jar her. “Yeah.”

“Where’s the conference again?”

“D.C.” Lexa clears her throat, tracing a ring of condensation with her index finger against the bar. “Johns Hopkins.”

“How have things been? Any better?”

“Define better.”

Lincoln grimaces sympathetically at Lexa’s unmasked cynicism, and she exhales a cleansing breath. She’s determined not to make this yet another installment of airing her grievances of a stalled relationship, like so many times before. Lincoln is too kind and too selfless—she doesn’t want to take advantage of his friendship by making everything about herself all the time.

“Sorry,” she says softly. “I guess I don’t know how to determine if things are improving or not. But, we’re trying to be more realistic about our relationship at the very least. Talking a bit more. She’s been pursuing this research grant, which would mean almost a full year apart as she works abroad.”

“Damn.”

“I know. I took the news spectacularly well, as you might imagine.”

“Lost your shit a little bit?”

Lexa huffs a laugh and pulls on the sleeve of her sweater. “I think you accused me of being particularly homicidal that morning?”

Lincoln tips back in his stool with a laugh. “Ah, yes—I knew it.”

“Thank you for gloating at my expense,” Lexa responds drolly.

“Sorry.” Lincoln clears the laughter from his voice and attempts composure. “So, what’s the plan? Wait and see if her proposal is accepted?”

Lexa swallows down a mouthful of beer and runs a hand through her hair. “I think we have plenty to talk about even if she doesn’t get the grant, but yeah. We’re supposed to talk when she gets back.”

“That’s really good, Lex.” Lincoln’s gentle timbre is warm and reassuring, all prodding humor gone from his tone. “I mean, it’s tough, but avoidance is also generally unhelpful.”

“Yes, I’ve realized.” Lexa smiles over at him, feeling better already.

Lincoln then asks, “What about Clarke?” and her momentary sense of relief vanishes.

She’s either gone extremely pale or is blushing fiercely because she feels both an icy chill and too hot all at once. She barely manages to respond without her voice shaking awkwardly. “What about Clarke?”

Lincoln is unfazed, lightly flicking his finger against her forehead as if they’re still thirteen and riding a noisy subway car. “She’s supposed to be your best friend, dummy. You should talk to her about this stuff.”

She’s never considered mentioning anything of significance about Costia to Clarke. It’s always seemed to Lexa, unsurprisingly, like a conflict of interest. Clarke will often inquire about Costia’s schooling, graciously concerned for her well-being within a demanding graduate program. In turn, Lexa offers her standard replies, never wanting to delve too far into their dynamic for fear it would reveal too much and ruin everything. Her life for the past several months has relied entirely on a delicate balance. Saying too much too soon could be perilous.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Hey guys, are we ready for another round?”

The unexpected sound of the bartender’s voice startles Lexa out of her thoughts, and she looks up to see that her beer is, in fact, empty.

“I’d like to try what he was drinking, actually,” Lexa tells her.

“You know what? I’m going to do the farmhouse,” Lincoln announces and slides their glasses closer to the woman standing in front of them.

She laughs easily while reaching for their empty glassware. It’s a nice laugh, ringing pleasantly in the quiet taproom. Even still, Lexa can’t help but register how much it pales in comparison to the addicting notes of Clarke’s distinctive laughter.

“Okay so two more of the same but in reverse,” the woman confirms. “Got it.”

As she leaves them, Lexa spins in her stool, determined to shift gears away from her indecisiveness. “Things with you and Octavia are going well?”

“Yeah,” Lincoln smiles. “Really great. She’s probably way too good for me, but I’m going to keep my mouth shut and hope she never figures it out.”

Lexa arches an eyebrow. “Do we need to sort through your abandonment trauma now? Because I thought we promised each other years ago that we would stop belittling our own self-worth.”

“No, no,” Lincoln laughs. “I’m good, I swear.” He shrugs a moment later and scratches his head. “Old habits.”

“There is no one too good for you, but if there were ever a perfect match out there, it’s Octavia.”

The bartender returns with their drinks before Lincoln can respond, but he looks at her as if Lexa has just gifted him the cosmos and reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. Their next beer turns to idle chatter, old memories, sports, and shop talk. Lexa checks her messages while Lincoln is in the bathroom and finds that Clarke has not conceded any of her poorly formed arguments by even a fraction. The fiery retorts on her screen breed a smile so wide that she doesn’t manage to temper it by the time Lincoln returns.

If she were at liberty to be more honest, she would tell Clarke that it doesn’t matter what movies they watch. She’s just happy to be spending more time together. Instead, she slides her phone back into her pocket and stands beside her stool, stretching the stiff muscles of her back.

“You ready to go?”

Lexa smiles in response and nods.

They thank their bartender and exit the taproom into a setting sun. The foot traffic down Brookline Avenue is busier at the 5:00 hour as city workers rush towards their staggering commutes home. Lexa is lost in thought, still pondering her evening with Clarke the following day, when Lincoln abruptly pulls her down a side street with his hand wrapped around her elbow.

“Oh wait—this way.”

“Um, where the hell are we going?” Lexa asks when their course has been rerouted away from Lincoln’s car.

“I just decided I’m gonna take you for the best burger of your life. Storrow Drive is a parking lot right now anyway—it could take us hours to get home if we leave now. Let’s eat first and then drive back.”

In no rush to return to her empty apartment, Lexa shrugs easily. “Yeah, sure.” Being in Lincoln’s company is almost always preferable to anything else anyway.

After a moment’s pause, he nudges her with his elbow as they walk and is grinning stupidly when Lexa looks up at him. “If you really want to make Clarke mad, tell her we’re about to walk into Tasty Burger.”

Lexa has spent the better part of the year feeling unmoored by a lack of purpose. She has been draped in uncertainty and self-doubt after abandoning her life in New York. And while she still feels plagued by indecision, she’s also grateful for the choices she’s made that have brought her here, walking in stride with an old friend.

She returns Lincoln’s smile and reaches for her phone.

:::

#a beer bud series #a pleasant undoing #apu #brewkru!#clexa fic

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bidnezz · 3 years

Text

Revenant [1/5]

Pairings: Magnus/Alec, background Clary/Izzy, mentions of past Magnus/Camille

Rating: Mature

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Blood and Violence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Clave Politics (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Downworlder Politics, Betrayal, Revenge, Background Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Angry Magnus Bane, Light Romance, Mystery, Prophecy, Minor Character Death, lots of death

Summary:

Alec has heard the legends of Magnus Bane. He knows all the tales and he’s read all the records of his downfall. The High Warlock of Brooklyn who became so hungry for power that he began to mistreat the very warlocks who sought his help. It’s been a hundred years since then, and when a sudden rift opening between realms brings an onslaught of lesser demons, so too does it bring Magnus Bane, insatiable and vengeful for the power and people that locked him away in Edom. As newly appointed Head of the New York Institute, it’s Alec’s job to protect the residents of New York from one of the greatest Demons he’s ever faced. Only, he has no idea how, and maybe things aren't what they seem.

Art by the talented: @abby0007

Beta’d by the wonderful: @squiggly-lines-on-a-page

Read on ao3

Something to note: This fic is extremely AU. I've fitted a lot of events that we know to be canon (such as dates of events happening) to fit my story, and the past events happened around the early 1900's, until present canon time. There are also many mentions of blood and wounds and lots of death in the fic, so please be wary if that's a no for you!

Chapter One

Rushing residents and evening traffic fills the bustling streets of New York as the surrounding sky begins to darken with the dusk of the setting sun. Nightlife begins as shadows emerge from the alleyways, and doors that lead to no good open with the creak of bad decisions. The Downworld rises to the occasion, drinks in-hand and smiles plastered. So, too, do the Nephilim of the New York Institute who patrol the streets to keep tabs on those unknowing of the dangers that lurk in the dark.

Alexander Lightwood stands alone, weighted with shoulders heavy and nervous energy surrounding him in his new office.

Head of the Institute.

The words roll around his tongue, foreign in his mouth but synonymous with him now. It feels… odd. But welcome.

A knock brings him back, a light rapping of knuckles on the thick wooden door, followed by ebony hair and dark red lips encasing a grin that could only belong to his sister. “Alec,” she calls, her grin turning wry. “Or should I say Head of the Institute?”

“I’ve seen the position lost to better people than I, let’s not jinx this.”

“People? Yes. Leaders?” Isabelle pauses for effect as she strides towards Alec, a dramatic flair he knows to always expect. “I haven’t seen a leader yet, more deserving than you, dear brother. You can be happy for yourself, Alec. Smile, gloat, live a little. Even in the confines of this tiny room.”

Hard as he tries, Alec can’t reign in the small smile that curves his lips. He won’t gloat, he won’t yell and cheer and celebrate. That’s not him. But he will allow himself to feel pride and happiness in this small moment in time with his sister, and he’ll lock it away as a cherished memory to strengthen their bond. This is a turning point for him, a chance to uphold the Lightwood name and make his parents proud. Finally, a chance for them to see exactly the type of leader they raised, a chance to prove that it was all worth it - will be worth it. A chance for him to look upon his mother’s face and for once see something other than barely concealed disappointment and contempt.

“Hey buddy,” A low rasp calls from the opened door to the office. Jace rests against the curved door frame, arms crossed and wide smile dimpling his cheeks. “Oh,” he starts, adjusting his posture to stand perfectly upright as he offers a small salute to Alec. “I guess I should be more proper in front of our new leader, eh?”

The twinkle in his eyes and the way his smile devolves into a shit-eating grin only pulls a small chuckle from Alec, and he reaches his arm out to grip Jace’s as he’s pulled into a rough, brotherly hug. It’s warm, comforting, and when Isabelle joins in - complete.

Right here, right now… this is the turning point for Alec. No more failing, no more letting anyone down. This is where his new life as a leader begins, where everything he’s worked towards shifts into what it was always meant to be. This is what he was born for.

So then why does it feel so empty?

There's a gnawing inside of his chest, a cavern of muddled introspection and half understanding. The goal was always this, the finish line has been crossed and his direction never clearer. But under the anxiety of being freshly anointed, if Alec were to peel away the layers of doubt and worry until he’s viewing his own satisfied ego, what else would he see? Happiness, of course, to some extent. Nothing more, and nothing less. Unfulfilled pockets inside of him that yearn in wonder, and desire for something more.

A mother’s love, perhaps. To be accepted and finally seen as enough.

Yes. An affirmation from Maryse Lightwood herself, and Alec’s sure he’ll feel that last puzzle piece locked into place. ‘But for now,’ Alec thinks to himself as he watches Isabelle and Jace enraptured in a hilarious conversation no doubt at his expense, ‘I’ve got all I need right in front of me.’

With his day just beginning in the blossoming night, Alec prepares himself for the duties and responsibilities that lie ahead of him.

On the other side of New York as the darkness creeps heavier, something more sinister begins to tear at the fabric that separates their realm from the rest.

---

A chime echoes through the halls of the Institute odd hours later, only a precursor to the dull bang as the wooden doors slam open to reveal a crowd of people in disarray. Alec, bent over a table in the main hall with the city’s layout and a small group of Shadowhunters, turns at the commotion brow raised and senses on alert.

“There’s a demon!” someone in the jumbled mess of bodies hurtling towards Alec proclaims.

“He’s strong - too strong,” another one says with a gasp.

Jace steps forward, hand on the hilt of his seraph blade, the other on his stele. Prepared for battle, ready for a fight. “Where?”

Three voices begin to clamor all at once in a disastrous explanation that prompts Alec to step forward and raise a calming hand in the air. The voices stop, and Jace turns to him with a question at the ready. “One at a time or we won’t get anywhere. You,” Alec points towards the least frantic Shadowhunter of the trio, “what happened?”

The man winces as he takes a step forward, favoring the right side of his body. Red stains his clothes; it paints his pale face and each of his limbs. It’s blood, Alec notes easily, dried and congealing in some spots no doubt from the cold autumn wind on the way back to the Institute, but some of the wounds still bleed fresh. His blond hair is matted to his face with sweat and ichor and his lips are caked with a mixture of all three, none of it enough to hide the burgeoning purple bruises that are blooming on his face. If the man’s body trembles, Alec says nothing of it.

“We were patrolling near Williamsburg,” the man begins, a slow nervous lilt to his voice. “There was an unusual spike in demon activity at dusk. We overheard residents saying it was a minor earthquake, but we didn’t believe that. We suspected it was related to the demons. And it was,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to Alec and the room now filled with curious Shadowhunters. “There was a horde of them, Ravener demons. We thought it was just a basic attack, we didn’t know why they were there, but we prepared to get rid of them anyway. It was in the middle of our fight with the demons that someone else showed up-“

“Magnus Bane!” sputters the man in the middle, specks of red flying from his mouth and smattering the floor. “He’s back. He’s back and he’s here for revenge! That's what he told us!”

A gasp echoes in the silent halls of The Institute, followed by the low thrum of chatter as Shadowhunters begin to talk. To the side, Alec catches Isabelle’s gaze, stony and reserved in thought, but sparking with worry for the day’s sudden turn of events.

“Let’s get you guys cleaned up and healed,” Alec steps forward, stele in hand and iratze on his tongue.

“I-It doesn’t work,” the blond man whispers, shaking his head and peering up at Alec with furrowed brows. “We hid in the alleyways and tried to heal. Perhaps it’s the poison from the ichor, but I suspect it’s tied to the magic that Magnus Bane hit us with that makes our healing runes null.”

More chatter from the crowd of people, louder this time, and Alec nods once before turning to the person on his left. “Clary, see to it that they’re taken care of and bandaged properly. Triple check healing runes and make sure we get a full analysis report on all your findings.” It’s an order given with a tone Alec hopes conveys exactly what he’s thinking. He needs to know what’s causing the iratze’s to not work, he needs to know if it’s just a reaction to the ichor or something altogether more threatening. More than that, however, he needs discretion. Kept under wraps, with only Alec and trusted company to know the answers. With the way Clary keeps his firm gaze and offers a single, silent nod, Alec’s sure she understands.

“Everyone else,” Alec speaks, loud and commanding. “Back to your duties.”

The room pauses, wary and hesitant with the new information discovered and seeping into every conspiracy forming in the back of their minds. They want answers, they want clarity, they want knowledge that Alec doesn’t yet have. Resigned to knowing they won’t get any more than this, they file out slowly with soft whispers and bowed heads towards one another.

It’s only several seconds later when he notices the hesitation spread across the injured Shadowhunter’s faces, a look shared between the three of them. They’re brimming with the words they want to speak, information they’ve withheld, just barely. Only, they’re scared and Alec’s not sure if it’s a result of the situation they’ve just encountered, or the consequences they think they’ll have to face. Quietly, Alec steps towards them and grants a reassuring nod.

“Sir, Magnus Bane-” the Shadowhunter’s words catch in his throat. Alec hasn’t heard this name in years, not since training, and it already feels exhausted. “He didn’t let us leave with our lives for nothing. He gave us a warning.” There’s another pause, ominous in nature and the patience Alec composes himself with is waning thinner and thinner by the second.

“Go on,” Alec presses, voice carefully neutral.

“He wanted us to relay to you that this is a Downworlder affair, and for the Shadowhunters not to meddle unless they’re prepared to begin a war with Edom.”

The words come out in a single breath, rushed and trembling. He suspects it was infinitely more intimidating and terrifying than it sounds coming from three battered and bloodied Shadowhunters, but the message is clear: Don’t get involved.

“Thank you,” Alec finds himself saying, thoughts already trailing into a plan of action, mind already gearing for only two options. The first, to take an observer's role in this newfound issue of Downworld battles. The second, to raise alert to the Clave and begin to fortify the Institute for the foreseeable attack once involvement is inevitable. Or perhaps a third option is available, Alec speculates to himself.

Diplomacy.

There’s very little he knows of Magnus Bane, what scraps of information left of him are withheld in Clave documents. He’ll gather up what he can find, form a case to present to an angry, vengeful Greater Demon, and see if some sort of reasoning can be made.

With a sigh, Alec thumbs away the blooming headache from his temples and heads towards his office, doubt already sprouting up in the corners of his tenuous plans. Nothing is for certain, of course. Who’s to say Magnus Bane will be a reasonable man with the quivering display he left for Alec at the doors of the Institute. The only thing he knows for sure is that he’s going to get to the bottom of what’s going on and take care of it personally, Greater Demon or not, New York is Alec’s city now.

---

Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn for decades until his banishment to Edom at the beginning of the 1900’s, was frequently described as a hedonist. Reports on him vary from year to year. Some decades he remained under the radar, shielded from the eyes of the Clave. Others, he became notorious for begetting impish troubles between the classes. The only consistency found in any and all reports of the former High Warlock is the tendency towards extravagance and self-indulgence, with a craving for social gatherings.

Leaning back in his seat, Alec traces a finger along the case of his device and focuses on two words.

High Warlock.

He was obviously well-liked at some point in time, formidable enough to be deemed a worthy leader, and charismatic enough to be seen as an ambassador for other Warlocks. There must have been great strength at his hands, and greater support backing him to attain the level of priority that he gained.

So… what happened?

Power, clearly, and too much of it. The same Warlocks who hoisted him up petitioned to get him banished, cried his name in the streets of Brooklyn and swore his downfall.

And they made it happen.

Warlocks from all parts of New York flocked and rallied towards Brooklyn in hopes of seeing the demise of one Magnus Bane. Clave reports account for groups gathering outside of his apartment, banding together to peel away any protection shields cast up in defense. Among them, a leader: Lorenzo Rey.

The Clave watched from the shadows, vowed to not get involved in affairs they deemed less than worthy, but insisted on documenting it all. And Downworlders are the definition of unworthy in the Clave’s eyes.

There’s a nagging in the back of Alec’s mind, a wonder if anyone tried to help, tried to stop it. If there was another way.

But no, Downworlder affairs need not be meddled in, especially when Shadowhunters were never involved in the first place.

With a sigh, he sets down the reports and rubs at the bridge of his nose. What makes this situation any different? Magnus Bane threatened for Shadowhunters not to get involved. He sent a message back in the form of barely living soldiers who were just doing their duty, a message sent loud, but not so clear.

“Are you going to report this to the Clave?” Isabelle’s voice pierces through his thoughts, and Alec prides himself on only showing a fraction of surprise when he turns to face her.

“Of course I am, Izzy. It’s my duty.”

His sister peers down at him from her spot on the corner of his desk, eyes scrutinizing every emotion that flickers across his face. She doesn’t seem appeased with whatever she finds. “You can wait if you want, Alec. You can see what happens next. Try your plans first and go to the Clave later with your findings.”

Alec scoffs. “And have my position rescinded for failure to uphold the most basic understanding of status? The Clave will know everything I know, because that is what is right. They’ll know the best course of action, because they know Magnus Bane and what he’s capable of.”

Isabelle watches him for several long moments, trying to read for any hint of something to give away any of the thoughts running through Alec’s head. When she receives nothing, she nods and reaches for the handheld with the last report Alec was reading, and holds it in front of herself. She skims the words on the page, traces a slow finger from picture to picture, before settling on one that she sets down in front of Alec with a smile.

“You know, for a Greater Demon who’s here to enact his revenge on the Downworlders, he’s actually quite handsome.” Her lips pull into a smirk, and her eyes await a reaction, but Alec gives her none. He simply shrugs and locks the screen of the handheld. “He was, at least. Who knows what he looks like now after a hundred years in Edom.”

And honestly, the last thing Alec wants to focus on is the physical features of a Demon here to cause chaos. He doesn’t want to think about the picture of Magnus Bane in Clave documents, drink in hand and that perfectly tailored suit fitting his body, smiling at the photographer with his dark-rimmed eyes. It doesn’t matter what Magnus Bane looked like then, or even now. The only thing that matters now is the information he’s managed to scrounge up from every instance of this Demon’s name in Clave history, and how he can use that knowledge to his advantage.

Magnus Bane was cunning, sneaky, and smart in the early 1900’s. He was dangerous then, and Alec’s not going to believe that Edom did anything but magnify that danger after a century of letting his anger fester.

---

Moonlight spills through the windows, casts soft light along the path Alex takes as he makes his way, resigned, towards the infirmary.

The halls of the Institute are sparse with Shadowhunters now gathered in the training hall and library in hopes of strengthening themselves for whatever battle they foresee coming. It’s all for naught, Alec thinks to himself as he recounts the lackluster conversation that transpired between him and his parents just an hour ago, accompanied by Inquisitor Herondale.

“You’re to remain on the outside and cease any and all involvement in these Downworlder... squabbles.” Herondale’s voice had cut sharp and left no room for questions. Squabbles. That’s the extent that the Clave had watered this threat down to. A Greater Demon, capable of stripping away their ability to heal without the use of mundane technology. A Downworld squabble.

“Alec,” his mother’s stern voice had cut in, low and severe, “you need to make it absolutely clear to everyone that they are not to expose themselves to any fight that Magnus Bane chooses to partake in. Any patrolling Shadowhunters are there for one reason, and one reason only. To observe and record.”

Yes, to observe and record. To keep an account of what happened for Clave history. More ammunition for Shadowhunters to keep themselves separated from Downworlders, and information to add to the files of warlocks the Clave already suspects are dangerous. Fuel to the fire, all wrapped up in the innocent guise of history.

It doesn’t sit well with Alec, being a bystander to the havoc a furious Greater Demon might cause. The Clave won’t step in, they won’t be a helping hand in all of this, and Alec hates to sit on the sidelines of what could possibly be the worst decision in the history of the Accords.

But the Clave has the final say on any Shadowhunter involvement in Downworld affairs. The Clave is every bit as responsible as Alec for whatever presides in Brooklyn in the coming days. The Clave doesn’t want to stop Magnus Bane, so why should Alec?

Alec’s fingers wrap around the cool metal of the door handle when he remembers his mother’s face, the expression she wore so unabashedly in front of him. Disappointment so thinly veiled underneath all of that carefully crafted apathy. Disappointment for the way Alec offered his solutions to Inquisitor Herondale? Disappointment in the way Alec questioned the motives of the Clave for hiding in the background when they could find an alternative to be part of the solution? Disappointment in Alec, for becoming Head of the Institute, clearly unprepared and unwelcome by even his own mother?

The smile that graced his mother’s features when he first saw her had been enough for the newly awakened pride inside of him, seeking the tiniest shred of affirmation from his harshest critic. How short-lived it was. How quickly had that pride deflated into embarrassment when he began to speak of the attack from Magnus Bane and his mother’s eye shrouded themselves in disapproval.

Perhaps he could have done something differently today. He could have proceeded with a different plan of action that would have appeased Herondale’s thirst for non-consequential knowledge, if he had only known. But now he does, and though redemption is not far off, it’s going to be an uphill battle.

He’ll do better.

With a steadying breath, Alec pushes open the wooden doors to the infirmary and steps in.

There’s the distinct sterile scent of Iodine, and far more lines of IV that are hooked up than Alec is used to seeing. They’re a back up, mostly, for when an iratze isn’t enough, or the wounds are too infected with ichor to properly heal, but even then…

The click-clack of heels on tile brings his focus to the lithe redhead who steps towards him with pursed lips and a furrowed brow.

“It’s not the ichor,” Clary begins, wasting no time. She’s worked with Alec long enough to know he doesn’t think highly of beating around the bush or dawdling. “I was able to analyze the blood samples enough that I could detect a magical signature on all of them. Bane, of course, but it seems that the magic is keeping the wounds from healing. They’re not re-opening, so to speak, but they aren’t clotting and the stitches I’ve made don’t seem to be helping the process either. They just,” Clary inhales a deep sigh, and expels a shaky breath. “They just bleed. Not enough to drain them completely, but enough to cause substantial blood loss. With how much they’ve already lost and how much more they’re going to lose, they’re going to need several transfusions just to stay alive.”

Alec turns to face one of the Shadowhunters laying on the cold, white bed. There are bandages around his arms, patches of gauze scattered across his body and face and butterfly bandages to keep small wounds closed. But for every bandage, for every strip of white, there’s red that blots it. Small beads of blood that pool at each line of cuts until they brim over and cascade in a slow and steady spill of red that stains the sheets beneath.

Three Shadowhunters in critical care, while not a huge blow, only paves the way for bigger hits in the future if Alec chooses to stand in the way of Magnus Bane. It’s not a risk he’s willing to take, to bet it all on the unknown, to subject the very same people who put him in this position to the torturous death sentence of blood loss.

“What are we going to do, Alec?”

Clary’s voice is soft when she speaks, uncertainty replacing the confidence and assertion he’s so used to hearing. Yes, three Shadowhunters isn’t a big loss, but it’s an omen chilling enough that he doesn’t want to cause panic and worry within the Institute.

“We stay quiet about this. If anyone asks, the ichor and magic is causing a unique reaction that you’re working on a remedy for. They’ll be fine.”

They’ll be fine.

Even to himself, Alec sounds scared.

“Maybe we need to find Magnus Bane, we could talk to him and ask - “

“Ask what?” Alec snaps his attention towards Clary, who frowns up at him.

With a calculated pause, she surveys the room’s occupants. “We can ask him what he’s here for, what he’s trying to gain from this.”

“He wants whoever sealed him away in Edom to pay.”

Clary’s brows crinkle together, and her eyes focus as she undoubtedly tries to recollect any information on Magnus Bane she’s heard of over the years. There’s not much to remember, not much spoken through word of mouth besides cautionary tales and warnings on why Downworlders must always be watched. The real meat of the situation is hidden in the files of cases over the years. Cases that litter Alec’s desk, pages of text that have been ingrained into his mind.

“Maybe we could help him,” She offers, timidly.

“Help him?”

“I know it sounds crazy, us helping a Greater Demon,” Clary begins. “We work on keeping the Downworld in order so to speak, right? We make sure that danger doesn't seep through into mundane territory, and so far it is. We can seek out Magnus Bane, see why he’s after these people, who they are, and what he’s trying to achieve. Maybe… Maybe helping him will bring more peace than leaving him to his own devices.”

Clary’s not wrong, at least to Alec she isn’t. It’s the better option, to help Magnus Bane with whatever mission he’s steering towards so he can be done with it. Get him out of the way before it becomes a bigger issue with the Clave.

But the Clave.

“The Inquisitor doesn’t want that,” Alec explains tersely.

Clary rolls her eyes and wears a common expression of distaste so many around him always do when the Clave is involved. “They aren’t here, Alec. The Clave only cares about the Law, with no regard to how it actually applies to all of our lives in the Institute. You’re our leader now. I understand you report back to the Clave, but they don’t have to know. At least not yet.”

It’s a temptation Alec won’t entertain for longer than a brief second. Going against the Clave is not an option. They’ve been given orders, and he’ll make sure they follow them.

“We will not go-“

Alec’s words are interrupted by the high-pitched ringing of his phone that he answers immediately.

“Isabelle?”

“Alec,” There’s a loud crash that crackles through the receiver of the phone that instantly sets him on high alert. “Alec, he’s here. Magnus Bane, he’s come to Hotel DuMort with an army of demons. You need to come!”

“Hotel DuMort? What are you even doing there, Isabelle? You were told to stay out of this, you shouldn’t be anywhere near other Downworlders with Magnus Bane around!”

“Jace and I came to -“

There’s silence as the phone loses connection, and Alec can’t help the involuntary reaction of slamming his empty fist into one of the unoccupied beds of the infirmary. “Fuck,” he spits out, before shoving the phone into his pocket and making his way towards the door.

“I’m coming with you,” Clary shouts as she rushes to his side.

“You will stay here and stick to the plan, Morgenstern,” Alec grits through his teeth.

“There is no plan, Alec! I’m not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, giving people false hope when I can go with you and help.”

A moment of silence. A moment where Alec feels the heavy thud of his heartbeat in the palms of his hand where his fists are balled so tightly, before he exits the infirmary in quiet anger with Clary trailing behind him.

---

There are screeches and screams that surround the Hotel DuMort as Alec and Clary gather closer. To mundanes, only quiet calm and the sounds of cars honking with idle engines fill the late night streets, but behind the screen of blissful oblivion lies something much darker, something far more inauspicious.

Sparks of red shoot from one of the top floor windows, and Alec and Clary dodge the shards of glass that sprinkle down on them as they search for an entrance. Magic enchants the walls and tingles against Alec’s hand as he pushes through one of the side entrances not blocked off with deadbolts and hanging locks. It would be almost too easy for any mundane to just waltz in, and he’s sure under different circumstances this would be a red-flag for Hotel DuMort’s compliance with the Accords to be taken into question.

The room inside is dark and empty at first glance, but a gasp from Clary and the tip of his boots hitting something raised against the floor shows him that they’re not alone.

A handful of lifeless bodies litter the floor in front of them, surrounded by darkness and sparks of electricity from the light sources that have been shot out and electrical wires exposed. Vampires. Demons. Nothing left alive.

It makes the fear of Jace and his sister being one of these figures all the more real, and he finds the weight of his feet carrying him faster towards the staircase door. Logically, he knows that’s not the case. He’d feel it through their bond if something happened to his parabatai, and he knows that Jace would throw himself into the line of fire first before he let anything happen to Isabelle. With Clary hot on his trail they race up the stairs, stamina and speed rune lighting up and fading quickly with the wave of their steles. It’s only a few quick minutes before they’re paused at the door to the 7th floor, only stopped by the body of a dead vampire blocking the entrance from the other side. With a grunt and a shove, Alec pushes the door open and they step through into a fight that’s already begun.

The sight of vampires greet them; teeth bared, claws sharp and blades in hand fighting off the demons that surround them, ash covering the floor they fight ont. Clary whispers his name, but he doesn’t turn to her, focused critically on the threats in front of them. Alec takes one step forward, close enough to the nearest vampire that he can almost get a word in, before he’s swiped at suddenly by a Ravener demon.

He dodges the first attack with several hurried paces back and reaches for an arrow from his quiver, before the demon fizzles out before his eyes. The final blow in question is dealt by Clary, who heaves a breath and grins at Alec as she pulls her seraph blade back from the fading particles of the dying demon. It’s one miniscule victory short-lived, however, because in its place pour in three more from the broken windows that line the walls. Alec nocks an arrow into his bow quickly and chances a glance towards Clary out of the corner of his eye, who curls her lips back in a grimace and readies for a fight.

Together, they take them out. One after another, an onslaught of demons rush and growl and shriek in attack. None of them get close enough to injure, though all of them try, and it’s not until the remaining few pull back and crawl through the windows that Alec realizes they’re not retreating for the sake of defeat.

“Upstairs,” Alec breathes, ragged. “Isabelle and Jace must be upstairs.”

“The demons are no-doubt being called back by Magnus Bane. We need to get up there.”

A hiss from the side catches their attention, a wounded vampire covered in blood and ichor. “Going up there is a death sentence. Your other Shadowhunters were already doomed before they’d even reach the top floor..”

There’s only a brief look of worry shared between them, before Clary and Alec are racing up the next staircase in search of Isabelle and Jace. Jace isn’t dead, he knows for a fact, but the possibility of Isabelle being injured fuels him up the next flights of stairs that tug at his parabatai bond. They’re close, he can feel Jace and the feelings being pushed through the bond right now. Confusion, anger, worry… Fear.

Fear of Magnus Bane?

They’re close, so close now, and Alec knows he’ll finally get answers to all of the questions and worries pouring through their minds as he and Clary push through that final door that leads them to the top floor of Hotel DuMort.

Relief overcomes him, spreads warmth through his body as he sees the golden blond of Jace’s hair, and his sister right beside him across the room. But it’s replaced, almost immediately, when he spots the scene that surrounds them.

In the middle of the room are two figures, Camille Belcourt who Alec knows to be the leader of the Brooklyn Vampire Clan, and someone he can only presume to be Magnus Bane.The pair of them ensconced in a circle of high red flames that prevent anyone from leaving or entering. There’s a conversation happening inside of it, screaming and yelling from Camille that Alec can’t hear through the roar and heat of fire, and wild gestures from Magnus Bane, whose back is turned to he and Clary.

Scattered around the room are clusters of vampires fighting off the unending horde of demons, unsuccessful in their endeavors. Jace and Isabelle are with them, the crack of his sister’s whip snapping louder than the crackling of fire that licks at Alec as he steps nearer. There’s no way around the fire, no way for them to get any closer even as he and Clary fight their way through the demons rushing towards them.

So they fight, continuously with only precious seconds in between each attack for them to catch their breath and gather their strength, but Alec doesn’t tire as the ichor mingles with the sweat soaking his clothes and coating his skin. He won’t give up until he finds a way to Isabelle and Jace, and he’ll die trying if he has to.

Another demon jumps at him, and this one catches Alec at an angle that his arrow can’t quite reach in time. The knowledge of being cut hits first, followed shortly after by the pain in his shoulder. It stings and burns, not from the fire, but from the magic laced and infused deeply within the demons themselves.

It’s a minor inconvenience, he tells himself as he reaches for the seraph blade holstered to his thigh and jabs it into the back of the demon as he dodges a second attack. It hurts, but it’s nothing he can’t stand, nothing an iratze won’t heal.

It’s a lie he knows to be true. He can feel the magic tingling against his skin where the blood begins to seep from the shallow wound. He’ll be fine for now, at least long enough to get them out of the building and back into the safety of the Institute.

A grunt beside him brings him back into the fight and he turns to see Clary swing her weapon into the skull of the demon closest to her, while kicking another into the fire beside her that consumes the demon with a sizzling crack. It’s almost more effective to use the fire to their advantage, Alec realizes as he and Clary share a knowing look. They change tactics quickly, rushing towards the demons from the outskirts of the room, boots thudding heavily against the hardened exoskeleton of the demons as they rush towards them. The vampires nearby take note, exhausted and battered far more than the two of them, and begin to follow suit.

It’s not long before the flocks of demons that pour into the room fade into a more sparse area of coverage and everyone involved in the small battle can take longer than a moment's breath.

Whispers and speculation fill the silence when only a few demons are left remaining, being fought off by courageous vampires with a sudden need to direct their adrenaline. In the middle of the room the fire howls fiercer, brighter and hotter as Camille and Magnus continue to occupy the center, closer than ever to each other.

There’s discourse, still an argument being had if the curl of the Magnus’ fist and Camille’s bared teeth are anything to go off of. It’s still too loud to hear the topic at hand, something unsettling and stormy brewing between the two, but then suddenly something shifts in Camille’s incensed demeanor.

It’s as if a switch has flipped, as if the anger has evaporated with the heat of the flames, and left in its place a barrage of tears that trickle down her face. She’s frustrated, Alec can see it in the square of her shoulders, but she’s given up the fight to Magnus. Part of him knows it’s not his place to care about the outcome of the events that are unfolding before them, that he has other more pressing matters at hand, such as getting to Jace and Isabelle. But the flames don’t give an inch of slack, and the path to them is blocked almost entirely by dead bodies and debris.

A pale hand reaches up, contrasting shockingly to the deep tan of Magnus’ cheek where it rests, color that Alec can see isn’t just the result of the shadows from the fire. From Alec’s spot behind Magnus, he can’t see the expression he wears or the effect this gesture has on him. What he can see, though, is the tense of his back through the black blazer that fits his body, and the way he straightens out the length of himself when presented with the vulnerability of Camille.

And Camille, for all her false innocence and shrewd manner over the years, seems genuine for once.

With rapt attention, Alec watches every step closer she takes.He can feel rather than hear the staccato click of her heels along the marble floor for every inch of distance she closes. He should look away, he thinks in a moment of polite weakness.

But, no.

This is a deliberate display, a show the two of them are putting on for any Downworlder, Shadowhunter, or Mundane who will watch. And so he does.

He watches, enraptured, as Camille raises herself onto the balls of her feet, black stilettos lifting and pale arms encircling the strong shoulders of the Greater Demon before her. He watches still, as the bright red lipstick that stains her lips also colors Magnus’ cheek and smears against their skin when she ducks her head into the junction of his neck. It’s almost too intimate for him to continue watching, the moment surely too much for them to all be allowed to partake in. It feels sinful, in a way. Alec almost averts his eyes, guiltily casting his gaze downward, when he catches Magnus’ hand reflecting back to him the brightest flames through the rings that adorn the fingers curling into the dark long locks of Camille’s hair.

Most importantly, in his bashfully thorough scrutiny of the scene before him, he watches Magnus’ other hand, unnoticed and dim in the shadows of their two bodies. A hand that ignites a soft blue nearly unseen through the fire, magic that produces a wooden stake to spear straight into the unsuspecting heart laid out before him.

A gasp, a lungful of staggered breathing fills Camille as she cries out in the same silent shock Alec feels vibrating through him. Her body, lithe and slender and her deep burgundy dress darken with color as she twitches and fades before them into slow settling ash on the floor, graceful and beautiful in ways that only the leader of the New York vampire clan could manage. But Alec pays her no mind as her memory slips lower beneath the line of his vision, all the while his eyes remain steadfast on the Demon before him. On Magnus Bane.

The fire lets up minutes later, and the surviving vampires rush towards Camille with their inhuman speed, crying and bemoaning the loss of their leader with wails that echo in the silence now befalling the room. There’s a tug in the pit of his stomach, a pull that he recognizes clearly as his parabatai bond. He should follow it to Jace, to Isabelle and undoubtedly Clary who is likely already with them. He knows, logically, what he should do now. He knows what’s expected of him, and he knows what’s right. And yet…

Now that he knows for certain his siblings are safe, there are more important matters at hand. Like the fact that Magnus Bane now stands in front of him, piercing Alec with golden eyes and the hardened exterior of a Greater Demon who shows no remorse for having just killed someone.

Time seems to move slowly as Magnus lifts a hand and summons a portal, an endless swirl of darkness that will release him from the destruction he’s leaving behind, that will take him further from the answers Alec seeks. Magnus turns then, takes one step into the void and the flow of time accelerates so quickly that in that instant Alec doesn’t realize he’s stepping through the portal with him until the roar of magic deafens him to the sounds of his sister’s call.

#shmb2021 #shadowhunters #malec #malec fanfiction #Magnus x Alec #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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creativelyderangedme · 4 years

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Last Night Chapter 3

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Before they could go gallivanting around Paris, though, Nino made a request to stop in at the club to deal with a last minute tab mix-up from the night before - which since it was on the way to the location tagged in the earliest posts of him and Ladybug, he didn't have a problem with it. It was also kind of hard to argue with a request from a guy literally planning on following you on a glorified scavenger hunt.

But before then, of course, there was also the matter of the strange hotel room mix-up that needed to be sorted out.

So after combing over the room for anything else he might have left and changing into something a little more comfortable, both he and Nino went down to the front desk in the hotel lobby.

The Huxton truly was a fantastically posh sort of place - giving off the air of old money with a mixture of fashionable millennial hipster charm. Warm leather chairs littered the open lobby, accented by the navy and bright reds of carpets and plush cushions, and deep greens of floral arrangements around the connecting room leading to the open terrace and bar and lounge. It was the kind of place Adrien could see himself spending a lot of time in given the chance. Something between the extravagance of his old room back at the mansion and a home he’d like to create some day; filled with things that were like him - things that screamed Adrien.

But that was a day dream for another time.

"Good morning, Mr. Agreste, I hope your stay has been pleasant so far!" A young attendant beamed at him the moment they approached the desk.

He recognized the bubbly blonde immediately, having been helped by her when they checked in the day before.

Estelle was her name.

He wondered briefly if they’d been professionally trained, or if Estelle always looked this perfectly coiffed and outwardly radiant and approachable. It sometimes took multiple cups of coffee before even he could muster the amount of charisma she seemed to have in spades.

Adrien grimaced, but tried to hide it under a smile, "Please, just Adrien. And actually I think something happened last night and I wanted to apologize."

The young woman gave him a confused look but allowed him to continue without interruption.

"You see, I woke up in a completely different hotel room than the one we checked into yesterday, and for the life of me, I don't know how, and I am so sorry for any trouble that might have caused. I'll pay for the room and any damage fee to make up for it."

The receptionist merely blinked for a moment at his word vomit, her bubbly radiance flickering for a moment as she seemed to mentally ask herself how this always seemed to happen to her before turning back into a megawatt bulb of sunshine, "Oh! I-I see. Would you happen to remember the room number?"

"Yes, it was 414." Nino answered in his place, recognizing the mortification crawling up Adrien's spine.

Estelle nodded and quickly began typing at her terminal, silence and persistent tapping filling the void while they waited for the impending news. Though, the longer they stood there, the more confusion seemed to fill her expression, "a-actually, sir, while I'm not completely certain of the circumstances, it - it looks like you booked that room."

"What? No, I only booked the room you checked us into yesterday."

She smiled once more, though, this time it seemed a bit strained - as she turned the monitor so that he could see what she did, "it says here that this room was booked early this morning. It looks like Collette was the one to book the room for you. She's not set to arrive until later this afternoon, but I could give you a call when she does?"

Early this morning? If the time stamp was to be believed it was nearly four am when the room was booked.

Staring at the screen wasn't giving him any further clues, so he nodded at the attendant.

"Yeah, please do. Thanks."

They began to walk away but Adrien stopped, turning back to the woman, "By chance, do you happen to remember seeing me leave here yesterday?"

Even as she appeared put off by the question, she answered him quickly.

"Yes. Both times. First with your friend and then again about an hour and a half later. Though, the second time you'd changed clothes. I remember because you asked me if I thought it looked too flashy for a club." She giggled good naturedly.

Nino snickered at his side, coughing to cover it up when Adrien scowled at him.

Finally, they waved and headed out the hotel's main entrance.

If ever Adrien hated the reminder that alcohol was not his friend, it was then as he and Nino stepped out into the late-morning sun of a gorgeous day in Paris - where the combination of splitting headache and overwhelming nausea nearly brought him to his knees while his friend pulled up the Uber app to confirm their ride.

"You good dude?"

The blonde could only grunt in response, swallowing back the abundance of saliva in his mouth in an effort to keep from heaving.

Something that didn't exactly convince his best friend that he was in the clear, "You know they charge extra if you puke in the cars, right?"

"I'll - I'll be fine. Just give me a moment."

Nino hummed, watching him with a curious tilt to his brow, "I haven't seen you this fucked up since the day after your old man's arrest. Just how much did you drink last night anyways?"

The unwanted memory of sitting hunched over someone's (he doesn't exactly remember who's) toilet bowl while puking his guts up until he had nothing left in his system (then dry heaving for at least an hour after that) flashed in his mind. It was a party his friends had thrown to just celebrate the end of Hawkmoth's reign of terror. For him though, it had been an opportunity to forget that twenty-four hours prior to that, he'd unmasked his own father after the man had tried to kill him and his partner in the hopes of stealing their miraculous to bring back his comatose mother.

There had been a lot of things he'd wanted to forget.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't have the tolerance for the alcohol he drank. Landing him in a nice cozy embrace with the porcelain throne the next day.

Apparently he still didn't have the tolerance.

Through his musings of the past, Adrien failed to notice his friend fishing something from his bag to hand to him until it was waving in his face.

A pair of aviators.

The blonde thanked him before putting the glasses on, reducing the ever present sting of light on his hungover brain. And just in time as a car pulled up to take them to their destination.

The ride to the bar was blessedly short and Adrien had managed to keep his stomach from rolling for the most part, but was very thankful when they climbed out of the silver economy compact with a half hearted wave and 5 stars.

Looking up at the ostentatious entrance to Chez Moune, the blonde had the strangest rush of dejavu. Something about the gold embellished entrance trim sparking familiarity that he couldnt place.

Nino walked right past him and through the doors, making his way up to the main club room and Adrien shook off his thoughts to follow after.

The former cabaret turned dance club was lit brightly for the early staff, stocking and preparing for another night of fun for tourists and local party seekers alike.

It was a club that Nino had managed to land more than a couple gigs, and had reserved a portion of for the going away party they’d all thrown him the night before. Celebrating the next leg of his life...

I’m leaving town soon. Tonight I’m supposed to be celebrating...

The voice wrapped around him like a fine silk, beckoning him towards the edge of a memory. Red - he was surrounded by red and moving shadows. And if he listened hard enough, he could hear the pounding of a bass beat that synced with the beating of his heart - steady and rhythmic and sultry.

There was the twinkling of bells riding on the coat-tails of a sweet voice.

You’ll get over it, I’m sure...

"Hey man - did you hear me?”

Adrien blinked, and the red club lights and shifting bodies disappeared, leaving an entirely too quiet empty bar and bright fluorescents. It took another moment before he realized he’d been asked a question, turning to look at Nino and ground himself in the present once more.

"Dude, you sure you’re good?"

His adam’s apple bobbed with the force of his swallow, but he nodded slowly. He was dizzy, and for the first time, not because he was hungover.

The blonde turned back to the bar and snippets pieced themselves together in his mind, bringing clarity to what felt like a fever dream.

"I actually did make it back."

"What?"

Adrien ran his tongue over parched lips, “I made it back to the club,” he said quietly, almost absently, but with much more confidence as he stared unseeing at a pair of bar chairs on the far side of the room.

There.

That's where he'd seen her.

When he'd managed to make it back to the club and no one was the wiser of his identity behind the black mask, he'd looked up to find his friends, only for his eyes to lock on her almost immediately in the crowd.

Understatement of the year, but, It had been a total shock to his system. Knocking the breath clean from his chest as he took her in.

It wasn't the red mask or the signature pig-tails hidden beneath a chic rimmed hat that had given her away.

Funny enough, it was her skirt.

Maybe not funny, because the presence of that one article of clothing had turned his world on its head.

It was more than possible he was mistaken. It could have been anyone.

But not just anyone could pull off ladybug spots. Which she did. Oh god she did. It was a long, high-waisted skirt with a bow in the same fabric on her hip.

But he'd remember that skirt anywhere. She'd only ever worn it one other time, afterall, and it was the last time he'd seen her, so the memory of her outfit from that day was burned into his memory.

It had to be her.

Right?

Adrien ignored the crowd as he made his way over to her, all the while his heart raced and mind fumbled over what he was going to say. The nerves were killing him. What if he was wrong? What if this was a complete stranger and he made an absolute fool of himself.

But what if it was her, a voice pushed in the back of his head, sounding suspiciously like Plagg.

He fought himself the entire way over, his mind completely unaware of the body's natural magnetism to the woman until he was standing close enough he could reach out.

It was now or never.

“What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?”

Mentally, he'd face-palmed at the absolutely horrid words spilling from his mouth. Seriously? That's what he went with?

The lady in question rolled her eyes at what was probably not the first pick-up line she’d heard that evening, turning to look at him, blue eyes flashing with something close to shock and recognition before a brow pulled up under her mask.

She searched him for a moment.

The longest moment of his life.

Those eyes (if he was right, and he was positive that he was - oh god please let him be right) had always been so expressive - and he could see everything as it flashed in her expression; uncertainty, disbelief, reluctant recognition again before a smirk slowly graced her perfectly painted red lips, “Really? That’s the best you got?”

"For now, yes.” He nodded decisively, before finally taking the open seat next to her, “Though it did get you talking to me, so, I count that as a win."

She eyed him critically again before commenting, "Smooth."

"I try."

"Too hard."

He chuckled, because she always had been quite sharp-tongued and feisty. Good to see that hadn’t changed. “You never did answer my earlier question, though.”

"Why should I? You're a stranger in a bar."

Maybe, maybe not, he wanted to say, but thought better of trying to be too pushy.

"That's fair. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He could see her eyeing him critically out of his peripherals.

“I’m leaving town soon. Tonight I’m supposed to be celebrating, but it just doesn’t feel right.”

He didn't let the grin spread over his lips at having gotten an answer, but did nod along, “I understand the feeling.”

“Oh?”

“As it turns out, I’ll be leaving town soon as well. And I too am supposed to be celebrating.” what were the chances they'd both be here celebrating? Slim to nil.

“So what’s your excuse?”

“Well, I saw this lovely lady sitting at the bar and felt it was my sworn duty to keep her company.”

The masked woman snorted a chuckle, trying desperately to hide the amused grin as she brought her drink to her lips, “Wow. That was worse than your intro.”

“Meowch. You wound me!”

He caught the way her eyes cut back over him at the pun before answering, “You’ll get over it, I’m sure.” Laughing lightly into the back of her hand, sweetly, like twinkling bells.

He could spend eternity getting lost in the sounds she made, but he had a mission. He could not allow himself to be distracted.

He waved over a bartender and ordered a rum and coke, throwing a few bills on the counter, exchanging currency for liquid courage before turning back to his companion.

“Why doesn’t it feel right to be celebrating?”

She hummed, considering her words as she peered over at him and the drink he made himself busy consuming, then turning back to stare at the glass she passed back and forth between her fingers on the bar top, "There was - something I had hoped to do before I left Paris, but I don't think that's possible anymore… I missed my chance."

Missed her chance? Adrien fought every instinct in his body urging him to envelope this woman in his arms and tell her it wasn't too late - but he had no idea what she was referring to.

And it hadn't been her that had missed their chance. No, the blame for that was solely on his shoulders. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." He murmured softly, not quite sure what else to say to her confession.

Which left them sitting in an awkward silence that neither seemed to know how to dissipate. Both turning to finish their respective drinks.

That is, until the bartender came back around not five minutes after their glasses were empty with a fresh drink for the both of them.

Adrien’s masked companion immediately went to rectify the oversight, “Oh! But I-”

“On the house.” The bartender smiled, looking between the two of them - a kid in a candy store kind of giddiness to his stare, nodding his head like he was trying to find the right words to say before settling on, “And thanks. For everything.”

Both Adrien and his masked companion’s eyes widened at his words.

Neither confirming or denying his claims.

And the bartender didn’t stick around long enough for them to do so, either.

There was a moment where both of them just sat there staring at the drinks placed in front of them. Like taking the drinks would confirm every suspicion dancing between them.

“I-it was almost like he recognized us or… something…” She said softly, and had it not been for his enhanced hearing, he probably would have missed it. She reached out and took the drink and Adrien watched as she stared at it, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. A soft yet sad far away look in her eyes.

A small chuckle escaped him as he too took his drink, “... or something.” He confirmed.

They were dancing around their identities again. It was so familiar and so frustrating, but he didn’t dare broach the subject in fear of breaking whatever spell kept her seated next to him instead of leaving.

Because she had every right to.

She had every right to get up and leave and never say another word to him. Disappear into anonymity like a ghost of his past destined to haunt his every waking thought, but dancing just out of reach.

So he accepted the drink and accepted the company even if it meant hiding behind masks again, because - God he missed her.

He missed the easy conversion. He missed the quiet moments spent on rooftops under the stars. He missed her chiding him for his jokes. And he missed the way she demanded he take care of himself. Like her happiness depended entirely on his wellbeing.

And despite everything, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't still irrevocably in love with her.

It wasn't until they'd both nearly finished their free rounds that something caught the lady’s eye and made her groan to herself.

"Whats with the sound of distaste?"

She hummed, and shook her head, remembering her audience of one, "nothing. Just saw something gross." She threw back the rest of her drink then turned back to him, “You know… this place is seriously beat.” grumbling, and looking for sympathy.

But instead, she would be met with a flash of inspiration across his face. “Then what are we waiting for?” he stood, nearly knocking over his chair, but steadied himself, reaching out to offer her his hand, “Let’s blow this joint.”

She sputtered a laugh as she looked between his face and the hand he outstretched to her, “And go where? Do what?”

What couldn’t they do? He smiled, feeling an overwhelming excitement take hold of him. Like he’d just transformed and he could feel the power Plagg once offered wash over him. “Everything.”

“Everything?”

He nodded, not at all deterred by the ‘you’ve grown two heads’ expression on her face, “You said you’re leaving town soon, right?"

"Yes?"

“Then, what would one night of fun hurt?”

Because right now, he was Chat Noir. He could leap great distances, climb towers, defeat evil. They could do anything as long as they were together.

"B-but I don't even know you. You don't even know me!"

He grinned still, "Perhaps we know each other better than we think we do? Either way, we're two people about to leave Paris. We can't just go without giving the city one last chance to give us an adventure, right? Something sweet to remember it by."

She chuckled again, looking dazed and stricken, and trying to convince herself that the man before her was nothing but a creep trying to lure her away. She glanced at something over his shoulder, but her eyes kept coming back to rest on him. The indecision was being overshadowed by a spark of temptation in her features - something giving away how badly she wanted to say yes.

All he needed to do was give her a reason.

“Would I ever steer you wrong, M’Lady?”

The mystery woman's eyes widened as Adrien made the comment, confirmation of his suspicions in a single gaze as he offered her his hand in invitation. He could have said anything, and she could have denied it. She could have brushed off the comment as him being a terrible flirt and told him to take a hike.

Instead, recognition lit her eyes like summer fireworks and painful tenderness filled her stare.

And despite everything, She took his hand.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. Would you, Chaton?"

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #adrien agreste #adrienette #miraculous ladybug fic #chat noir #ladybug and chat noir #ladynoir #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #lastnight

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bdafic · 3 years

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Inspired by @mithrilwren's fascinating series of posts about her process after she finished her longfic, here's some random fun facts about "Roses Where Thorns Grow", writing, process, and the like. (This contains major spoilers through the end of the story so it's under a cut...) If you have more questions, ask away!

- I only started playing Dragon Age because I overheard my partner playing Origins and recognized Claudia Black’s voice as Morrigan. I am a big Farscape and Stargate fan, I even have her autograph, and genuinely did not care about the plot of the games. I just wanted to listen her talk for ten hours. Now look at me. This fic is almost 300’000 words and she doesn't even appear in it.

- Originally Roses was going to go up as a single smut scene. Then I had to write something leading up to it to “make it make sense”. Around chapter 5 I decided to make it a relationship study. Then, it was intended to go up as two separate stories but later merged into one. I had an outline that spanned twenty chapters total, with part one in 1-10 and part two in 11-20. As you can see, that did not work out either.

- This is pointed out in the intro note of Chapter 10, but is easy to miss: the title, "Roses Where Thorns Grow", is a reference to one of my favourite poems, "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell" by William Blake. The opening lines reminded me of Solas, and the metaphor worked well for their relationship. "Once meek, and in a perilous path The just man kept his course along The Vale of Death Roses are planted where thorns grow, And on the barren heath Sing the honey bees."

- Nothing existed under that title when I started, but around half-way through writing it someone published a romance novel under the same name: "Roses Where Thorns Grow". I am quite curious at it.

- Chapters 1, 2, 3 and part of the 4th - as well as almost all of chapter 8 - were written before I finished Trespasser.

- The scenes that sat around pre-written the longest were: sex at the palace (18), the fight after the tower falls (24), Bull and Sera’s “card game” (26), the birth (28), and Solas’ use of power in the epilogue (30).

- I have never been able to create my canon Ellana in the game because the POC hair options are bullshit. I used Dollmakers and various aesthetic posts to keep her in mind, but they fell pretty short too. She has light-to-medium brown skin, dark freckles across her cheeks and forehead, full lips and a crooked front tooth, green eyes, and prior to chapter 20 had dark wavy/curly (3A) hair past her shoulders. In later chapters it’s choppy, uneven, chin-length. She’s also 35ish, which puts her at the older end of the Lavellan spectrum.

- 3/4 of the story was posted before I learned that the common tongue in Thedas isn’t actually called “Common”, but “Trade”.

- I wrote 90% of this between the hours of 11pm and 3am.

- I have so many deleted/extra scenes, but have felt too shy to post them in the “deleted scenes” thing because I'm worried they seem dumb and pointless. Which is sort of why they got removed and would be better in a deleted scenes collection, I guess. I am working up to it.

- Initially, all chapters were titled after a specific tarot card/orientation and included an intro note about their meaning. I was big into tarot a very long time ago. But when I got around to it that felt unbelievably pretentious so I decided against it for everything except, “The Tower”.

- My partner, who I have been with for over 20 years and has a minimum of 175 tabs open to AO3 on their phone at any given time, did not know I was writing this until last year. They have not read it and know almost nothing about it. One because I do not want them to and they respect that, and two because our tastes in fic are so wildly different they'd probably not enjoy it anyway. If you've ever wondered who is out there reading all those fluffy coffee shop AUs about hand-holding and meet-cutes in every single fandom: it's them. They are. Every goddamn one. I am literally married to Cassandra.

- The entire “transference” plot point was completely different in the first draft and involved Flemmythal. When I got to it I realized it was actually hot, flaming, garbage, scrapped the whole thing, and started over with the spirit.

- The chapter that went through the most rewrites was #22, “Life After Death” - the Fade nightmare/memory one where Solas guides her in protecting herself from demons. I’d have 3-5k done, hate it, delete it, start over, write another 6k, trash half of it and start over… In the end I’m really proud of it - but that chapter was work.

- Vivienne had several scenes that I ended up cutting because the flow didn’t work. There are lots of things I cut for this reason, and lots of other character scenes included, but the ones with Vivienne were the only ones I felt really bad about because I really like her character and want to see her more.

- Varric was supposed to be the other person in the “Cassandra finds out” and “campfire magic” scenes in chapters 19/20. I even had those bits almost entirely written out with him in them. Then I straight up forgot to take him with the party in the previous chapter and didn’t notice until several days after it went up. In the end it worked better with Bull, but I worried that it would make his presence in later chapters seem gratuitous somehow.

- Solas was always intended to miss it. That part of the story needed to be about Ellana finding strength in herself and facing the fears she had about motherhood and belonging.

- There was originally a much more aggressive confrontation between Leliana and Solas, and it took place much earlier in the story. This was scrapped for reasons that may become apparent if I write a continuation. :)

- I have had a list of Elvish baby names kicking around for four years. I go in every so often and try a few out, use them in some writing, let it sit for a bit, then go back and delete it all. I have yet to be completely satisfied with any of the choices, so Solas and Ellana’s inability to come to a decision reflected my own. I ended up calling them Vex and Vax in my notes the entire time. Bidet to anyone who understands that reference.

#writing #roses where thorns grow #story facts #Q&A

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disneydreamlights · 4 years

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Across the Stars: Chapter 2

AO3 | FFN

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Summary: Tensions between the Separatists and the Republic are climbing as the Senate debates whether there is need for an army. Anakin Skywalker, Senator of Tatooine, has recently returned to Coruscant to speak against its formation, resulting in an assassination attempt that forces him to reunite with long time friends Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and the newly knighted Padme Naberrie for his own protection. [Anidala]

(Or, an Attack of the Clones Roleswap AU)

The elevator ride up to the senator's apartment couldn't be over sooner, in Padmé's opinion, yet if it never ended she would have been thrilled. She looked out the window, trying to ignore the impossibly bright presence at the top of the building as they got closer and closer to the top floor of the building.

"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan pulled her attention away from the window she was gazing out of, and onto the ride up. The truth was, she wasn't sure. The elevator ride up to the senator's apartment felt impossibly long as it came nearer to the top floor of the building. "You're not normally this nervous, my Padawan."

Padmé laughed and gave a smile, hoping to seem more at ease. "I'm not your Padawan anymore." She had recently completed her trials, which probably helped explain her nerves. It was the first mission the council had deemed to give her since she'd been knighted, a matter of pride to her and Obi-Wan, and it was expected for her to be a little nervous. Though the nature of the mission, and who they were protecting, were more the cause than her new promotion.

An assassination attempt had been made on the Senator of Tatooine, Anakin Skywalker, and so she and Obi-Wan, by request of both the Chancellor and the council, had been assigned guard duty to the young man. To make sure no other attempts were made on his life. It was a compromise, she was sure, but Anakin knew them best after all. It was only natural they'd be sent to help.

Obi-Wan smiled at her. "So I keep forgetting." It was clear he hadn't, he'd been there when she was knighted after all. "But I'm sure it doesn't make things less nerve-wracking, I remember my first mission after being knighted wasn't much easier."

She couldn't imagine it would have been, he'd had a Padawan following him for the entire mission after all. "It was probably harder, you had to watch out for me too."

"So I did, though I'm sure that's probably not all that's plaguing you." Obi-Wan indicated her to express her worries. "So what else is wrong?"

"Not wrong, not necessarily." At this, Padmé couldn't help but keep the smile off her face. "I'm worried about Senator Skywalker, of course, but I'm also excited to get the chance to see him. It's been too long since we've seen him." Five years had passed since their last trip to Tatooine, and Padmé still remembered the young fourteen year old.

"That it has. Hopefully Anakin's been taking care of himself." They knew he had to have been, to some degree. He was a senator right now, and one didn't become a senator overnight with no hard work involved.

"I'm sure." She smiled. The elevator opened up, and Padmé and Obi-Wan walked into the apartment, watching the senator's advisors and Anakin himself discussing what they would need to do for the next meeting of the Senate.

It wasn't long before they were noticed. "Padmé, Obi-Wan." Before Anakin could even greet them, Shmi had come over, giving both Padmé and her Master a hug. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you as well, Shmi." Obi-Wan bowed to the woman after being released from the quick hug. Padmé hugged the woman back, happy to see her again as well. She was a compassionate woman, and Padmé couldn't deny a bit of excitement at seeing her alongside her son. "How has retirement from the Senate been serving you."

"I'm glad I'm not in it right now. The stress Ani has to deal with to stop this bill…" Shmi gave them a tired smile. Admittedly, Padmé hadn't been able to follow Coruscant's politics with her preparation for the trials, so for once she had little idea what Shmi was talking about. "You'll protect him, right?"

"We'll do our best." Padmé gave the woman a smile. That was what they were here for.

"Mom, what are you–" From the kitchen, Anakin's voice stopped as he looked at the two Jedi, a smile forming on his face. Padmé couldn't stop one from forming on hers as well.

In the five years since they had last seen each other, Anakin had grown up from the gangly young teen into an adult. His blond hair had grown longer, but darker, likely due to him having spent less time under the twin suns on Tatooine. He'd also grown considerably more attractive, and Padmé felt her face warm up several degrees. She tried not to think about it. "Ani?"

"Hello Knight Naberrie," so he knew she was no longer a Padawan, "Obi-Wan. It's nice to see you both. I'm surprised you two didn't try to stop by sooner."

"We've been off world on missions, with the Separatist unrest stirring, it's been difficult to find a moment of rest for any Jedi." Obi-Wan gave an exhausted smile to Anakin. "Not to mention, Padmé had to study for her trials."

"I heard." Anakin smirked. "I've been keeping an ear in the Jedi Temple's business to see what I could hear about you two." That surprised Padmé, at least a little bit. She knew they had parted as friends, but she hadn't expected he'd be able to keep tabs on them. "Congrats, Padmé. I knew you'd be able to do it. I'm sure you'll make a fine Jedi."

"Thank you, Anakin." She was flattered for sure. "I only with you could share this moment with me. I know how much you wanted to be a Jedi too." The little slave boy from Tatooine who'd been so eager to learn how to use a lightsaber when she'd shown him hers as an initiate was a far cry from the man sitting in front of her now.

"It's the past." He waved her off, though she detected a small wave of irritation in the Force at the reminder. "Besides, I can do just as much good for the world without one. That's why I'm a Senator now." He indicated for the two of them to follow him to another room. "Mom, can you discuss the plan for dealing with the Military Creation Act? I need to discuss security with Padmé and Obi-Wan."

"Of course." Shmi nodded, her voice turning slightly more serious. The reminder of why they had reunited was a slight damper on the mood. It should have been under much better circumstances. All of them agreed on that. "I'll keep everybody occupied." She returned to the Tatooine senatorial delegation as Anakin entered into the kitchen, grabbing a seat with the Force for Padmé and Obi-Wan to sit down on.

"Somebody's still been practicing." Obi-Wan noted, watching as Anakin looked away.

"I didn't want the training you both gave me to go to waste. I try not to use it around others. You both warned me to keep it a secret for a reason, after all." Anakin's position likely meant the Force wasn't useful for much, but Padmé didn't blame him for keeping up with it. She likely would've done the same in his position. "Which means I think we can rule out the whole extremely powerful Force sensitive thing as the reason I'm being targeted, though I'm pretty sure it's the only reason I've survived so far."

"I agree." Obi-Wan nodded. "Not that we're here to help you solve the mystery of whoever's trying to kill you. We're merely here to serve as your protection."

Anakin frowned. "What do you mean you're not here to help me figure it out. That's the most important thing. Bail and I both agreed I need to be there to help deal with the Military Creation Act. I can't do that if I'm being hunted down by assassins."

"It's not our mandate." Padmé explained, almost feeling bad for Anakin as she felt a wave of irritation come from him in the Force. "The Jedi Council didn't assign us to solve the mystery of the attempts, just to guard you from them until they stop."

"And? That doesn't help any of us." Anakin wasn't wrong with that sentiment. "If you're here, you can't help deal with the Separatists and try to pacify them like the Jedi are supposed to do, and so long as I'm under threat I'm not supposed to be making anymore public appearances."

"Anakin–"

"No Obi-Wan, I'm not going to pretend that you should 'just' be protecting me." Anakin crossed his arms in irritation, clearly unhappy with Obi-Wan's attempt at an argument. "A part of protecting me is stopping who's doing this. My bodyguards and Force sensitivity would've been enough if that wasn't the case."

Neither Jedi knew what to say to argue against that, because technically, Anakin wasn't wrong. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. "We understand Anakin, we'll do our best, we just can't go out of the way to find them." Padmé smiled, trying to placate the senator. It seemed to work, as the moment she gave the explanation, he seemed to calm down just a bit. "But if we learn anything while serving as part of your security, we'll make sure to look into it."

Anakin smiled. "Right, I knew I could count on you guys. So, shall we discuss plans for my protection? I have an idea."

"An idea? I'm not sure I want to know given how infamous some of your ideas are." Despite having not run into him in their visits to the Senate, both Padmé and Obi-Wan knew of just some of the insanity Anakin was known to get into. The borderline fights with other Senators just to prove that he was right and that they should follow his ideas and policies. Still, Obi-Wan indicated for Anakin to continue. "But I'm willing to hear them out."

"Use me as bait."

"Use you as what?" Padmé stared at Anakin as though she couldn't believe what the Senator was saying.

"It's the best way to lure out my assassin. If he thinks my defenses have minimally increased, then he'll attack again. The Force can give me warnings, but if not then you two can sense what's going on too and keep me safe." Anakin leaned back in his chair. Padmé had to admit, the idea had merit. If they lured them out, at minimum they could kill whoever was targeting him, or perhaps even learn why. Either way, it was an idea that held promise.

"Absolutely not." Obi-Wan crossed his arms, denying the idea before Padmé could voice her opinion on it. "Anakin you can't play with your life like that. You're far too important." He didn't object, merely listened and looked to Padmé, waiting for her answer.

"Obi-Wan is right." In spite of the fact that she wanted to solve the mystery for Anakin, she knew her Master was right. "Your life is the first priority here Senator. We can't leave your life to chance."

Anakin sighed, relenting far too quickly on the matter. "Right then, if you're both decided, Padmé, would you mind coming with me. I'd like to discuss some extra security details with you. Alone." Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. So Anakin did. "I want her watching the security feeds."

"Anakin are you sure?" She saw why Obi-Wan was unsure, she was unsure herself why the Senator felt more comfortable with her watching him sleep over Obi-Wan.

"I trust Knight Naberrie with the task. She'll be faster to alert the team, she's not as old as you." There was a teasing note to Anakin's voice, and Padmé started to laugh as she watched her master start sputtering, clearly taken off guard.

"I'm not that old."

"Aren't you pushing thirty-five, Master?" Padmé smiled, joining Anakin on his teasing. "That's old in my books."

"Yours aren't the only ones that matter, my Padawan." Obi-Wan sighed. "I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll discuss with the rest of your team about where they think I might be of most use."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan." Anakin watched the Jedi Knight walk out of the room. "Padmé, if you'll follow me." He led the way, leading her into a room with dozens of monitors and a single blue Astromech droid, plugged into the main console to watch the feed.

"Artoo?" Padmé looked at the droid in surprise. "Artoo's on your security team?" She remembered the eccentric droid. He'd stayed behind back when Padmé and Obi-Wan had returned to Tatooine to inform Anakin that they wouldn't be training him, but she still couldn't imagine him doing so much for him.

"I trust Artoo to keep an eye on any intruders, he's pretty good at keeping an eye on everything." He put his hand on the Astromech's dome with a smile, and the droid let out a series of beeps in return. But if R2D2 was going to be keeping an eye on everything, then…

"Anakin, why did you want me here if you have Artoo covering security?" She wasn't necessary for the job. The droid would be able to activate the system instantly so long as he was watching.

"Because, I know you don't agree with Obi-Wan's or the council's mandate just to stay here and guard me." Anakin looked to her, waiting for her to deny what he said. When she didn't, he continued. "You want to get down to the bottom of this just as much as I do."

"Of course I do, but Ani, I can't just go around the command I'm supposed to follow by putting you in more danger." He was right, she wanted to investigate and put an end to the threat, but not by putting him at risk.

Anakin laughed. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'm not the little kid from Tatooine anymore. Artoo here will alert you the moment something goes wrong, and between the three of us we should have enough Force powers to recognize when something's going to go wrong."

It took Padmé a lot of effort to respond. "What if we don't?"

"If I die, then we can use it as proof that people are targeting senators opposing the Military Creation Act. Maybe then the Senate will listen to people saying it's a bad idea." Was that the bill Anakin was working so hard against?

"Anakin, your life isn't something you can just throw away like that." She needed him to see reason.

"This bill is wrong. If it takes my life to stop it, then it's a life I'm willing to give. I'm willing to die to stop something I don't believe in."

"You're that against creating a military?" That was...unlike Anakin, to say the least. He wasn't afraid of conflict, at least with what she'd seen. He was the one who freed all the slaves on Tatooine when he was still so young. She wasn't for the creation of one, of course, but it surprised her to hear that he wasn't either.

"Don't get me wrong, a lot of times a fight is the easiest way to handle things, but it's not that simple, not this time." Anakin pulled his data pad, letting Padmé scroll through the files to see the data the Senators had gathered. "A war would take the attention off of what needs fixing in the galaxy, take funds from where they're needed, and most importantly, it won't cause the Separatists to fold back into the Republic. Not fast enough to make it worth forcing thousands of sentients to fight in a war they don't believe in."

Padmé smiled, it made all too much sense that the boy from Tatooine would be against an army formed by a draft. The way he'd thought out his position to come to the conclusion that violence wasn't the answer was a far cry from the boy he had been as well. "You really have grown up, haven't you?"

She noticed Anakin's cheeks turn red, as though he was embarrassed by her comment. "I have. I wanted to become somebody you'd be proud of. Y-you and my mom, of course."

Padmé smiled, and she noticed Anakin's face had turned redder. If she didn't know any better, she'd assume it was the same puppy crush he'd had on her all those years ago. She decided better than to dwell on that, instead returning to the topic at hand. "You have, but that doesn't mean I want you throwing your life away for a cause."

Anakin was snapped out of his embarrassed state. "I won't be. I trust you." He looked at her with the same intense, blue eyes that hadn't changed a bit, and she met his gaze. He believed in her, the least she could do was believe in him and his plan too.

"We'll do it." Padmé relented, and Anakin's face broke into a grin.

"Thank you, Padmé. I knew you'd help me."

What had she signed herself up for.

-x-

"You spent an awful lot of time with the Senator." Padmé stepped out of the security room a couple hours later, having listened in on Anakin's plan as best as she could. "Was everything alright?"

"Anakin had...a lot of details to go over." She sat down next to him, hoping Obi-Wan wouldn't ask too much about just what those details entailed.

"I see...so what plan has he come up with this time." So she wouldn't be able to hide the change of plans from Obi-Wan. "I can't imagine it was more dangerous than his last one."

"It's...slightly better." She grimaced at the hesitation in her words, but it was true. Slightly better really was the only way to describe it. "Anakin has Artoo serving as the one in charge of monitoring the cameras, we both figured it'd be a better idea than having somebody watching that the assassin could see."

"Artoo?" Obi-Wan stopped for a moment. "Is he really sure an Astromech, us, and a couple of his normal bodyguards will be enough to deter whoever's after him." She didn't answer, causing Obi-Wan to prod her again. "Padmé?"

"Anakin's insisting that we use him as bait," she admitted to her indulging the Senator in what was a terrible idea. "He wouldn't listen to me when I asked otherwise."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Of course he wouldn't, Anakin is far too impulsive and willing to take risks. I suppose judging by the way you're talking, you agree?"

"The best way to protect him is to ensure that the assassin can't return. We won't be able to get them to make another attempt if they know that the security around him is tighter. It solves the case faster, so we can help try to get peace with the Separatists." She took a deep breath, feeling slightly ill at ease, awaiting the reprimands from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, however, simply nodded. "Very well, though I'm disappointed in you for trying to work around our orders, I accept your judgement."

Wait, what? "Master?"

"Padmé, you're a Jedi Knight now. You should be making your own decisions by now, rather than relying on mine. Whether it's the right or wrong one, it's too late to do anything about it now. You have to stay firm in the belief that you chose right" He stood up, walking over to the window to check to see if anything was out of the ordinary. "We can only hope Anakin knows what he's doing."

"I think he does. Otherwise he wouldn't have asked us to do it." She watched Obi-Wan's behavior as he paced around, seemingly anxious. "Everything alright?"

"I'm not sure, something–" They both felt it from Anakin's room. Something different. Something wrong. "Padmé."

"Right!" She ran into the room, shortly after followed by Obi-Wan to see two worm like creatures and a probe droid. Without another thought, she sliced through the worms, unwilling to let them come close to harming the Senator.

"Obi-Wan, Padmé?" Anakin looked at the two of them. But before either of them could say anything, Obi-Wan took matters into his own hands, and jumped right out the window onto the droid just outside, likely the culprit in letting the worms into his room. "What the kriff?"

Padmé sighed. "You were right when you said they'd make another move tonight." She gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. "You wouldn't happen to have a speeder I can borrow, would you?"

"I've got something better."

-x-

Better, as it turned out, was Padmé clinging to the seat of a four person speeder as Anakin zoomed through the Coruscanti skies at a speed that had to have been downright illegal for your average person to be going at. "Anakin! I could've driven myself."

"Where's the fun in that?" Anakin gave her a smile, clearly in his element. Despite that, Padmé clung her hands onto the seat. "Besides, you need to keep up with Obi-Wan. I'm the better driver."

"You don't know that?"

"You didn't win a podrace when you were nine." Anakin swerved out of the way of an incoming speeder, keeping an eye on the droid above them and the dangling Obi-Wan. "Somebody fast has to keep up with the droid."

"Somebody safe could have kept up with it too." She wanted Anakin to stop for literally one minute, but she did know he was right. If they didn't keep up, Obi-Wan would fall a lot farther than even a Jedi using the Force could survive. Loathe as she was to admit it, Anakin's help was probably for the best. "Or somebody who doesn't have an assassin after him."

"I'll be fine. The assassin will be too busy running from Obi-Wan to attempt to take me out." Anakin positioned himself underneath Obi-Wan in preparation for the knight to fall. "So, when did Obi-Wan get such a reckless streak?"

"You're one to talk." Padmé huffed, but Anakin just laughed. After a moment, she answered. "Always. He follows the rules, but he's not afraid to take a risk or two if it gets what he needs. But only if it's his own life at stake." If Padmé had decided to jump out of a window attached to a droid, she'd be murdered as soon as she was back on the ground. But Obi-Wan could do it without so much of a reprimand.

She was going to have to lecture her Master on safety, that was for sure.

As though her concern had been enough to will the worst case scenario into existence, the droid Obi-Wan had been clinging to was shot at and destroyed, and he landed in the speeder's back seat. He sat up moments later. "Nice catch Pad-Anakin?"

"Hey Obi-Wan." Anakin waved to him, but didn't look back, thankfully keeping his eyes in front of him. "Hope you don't mind."

Obi-Wan gave Padmé a look, almost as though saying that she should have stopped this. To which she gave a helpless shrug. "Never mind, we'll discuss this later. After that speeder." He pointed to a green speeder ahead of them, likely where the shot that destroyed the droid had come from.

Anakin nodded, and if anything started to move faster, causing both Padmé and Obi-Wan to grip the seats beneath them. "Has anybody ever told you to learn how to fly properly."

"What's wrong with the way I fly?"

"It's not flying, it's suicide." But there was no room for arguing further as Anakin cut around a building, noting the green speeder moving almost constantly at the same speed as him, no matter how much he pushed the speeder.

As if in response, Anakin made a sharp right turn. "Anakin, what are you planning?" Padmé asked. "He's going that way."

"Short cut, don't worry." He grinned at Padmé, and she couldn't help but wonder just how often Anakin had raced around the streets of Coruscant since Tatooine got the seat on the Senate. How much chaos he had caused that had to be cleaned up. "I know what I'm doing..." She heard under his breath a mumbled "I think" as Anakin weaved in and out of the buildings, having a few close calls that she was pretty sure she and Obi-Wan would need therapy for before stopping just outside of an intersection.

"Short cut…" Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, though was clearly relieved to not be moving for a moment. "We've lost the assassin."

Anakin had the humility to look embarrassed at least, even if it was clear to anybody with any skill in the Force that he wasn't bothered at all, but before he could say anything, the green speeder had plunged down, going into one of the lower levels of Coruscant's underbelly. "You were saying, Obi-Wan?"

"Anakin. We need to go after him!" Padmé pointed down, and Anakin flew down with them, angling towards the ground and pulling up to a club, several hundred floors lower than the apartment in which they had started their evening.

The two Jedi jumped out, holding their lightsabers in their hands in case they had to stop any more attacks. Anakin jumped out with them, and went to follow, but Padmé stopped him. "No, Anakin. The assassin's after you. You need to stay in the speeder."

"Wouldn't I be safer with my two Jedi protectors than alone?" If he'd hoped that would win them over, he was definitely mistaken.

"In a bar like this, doubtful." Obi-Wan frowned, clearly full of distaste for the location they'd need to enter. "It's more likely we'd be separated. At least here, we know where you are."

Obi-Wan's denial must have gotten through to him, because although Anakin had frowned, he didn't try anything, instead sitting in the driver's seat. "If they escape, I'll try to track them down. Good luck."

With Anakin, for now, deciding not to follow, Padmé and Obi-Wan slipped into the club. Obi-Wan went to the bar while she slipped in with the other patrons, closing her eyes as she attempted to feel for any presence out of place. Something that might have indicated the assassin that had attempted to kill Anakin. She remembered vaguely what they looked like. Feminine in form, and from what little she'd managed to sense their Force presence, they'd felt slippery. Not somebody she'd want to run into without a method to protect herself.

Her eyes opened. In the corner, edging towards the front door. She'd felt their presence. They had to have noticed Anakin. "Obi-Wan!" He looked up at her and nodded, and the two activated their lightsabers, letting the blue plasma beams ignite.

The assassin must have noticed them, for they bolted out the door. "Official Jedi Business, nothing to see here." Obi-Wan covered for them as they ran outside. Obi-Wan reached the assassin, knocking them to the floor before they could make another attack on Anakin, and Padmé fell in behind him.

"Let go of me!" The assassin attempted to fight them off, but Obi-Wan held her down, unwilling to let her up. "It was just a job."

Ah, a bounty hunter. Somebody must have really wanted Anakin dead if they were willing to pay off a bounty hunter to do it. "Do you have any idea who you were trying to kill?"

"Tatooine Senator. Look I'm serious, he was paying me, it's just business.."

Padmé and Obi-Wan shared a look. "What was his name?" Obi-Wan asked. Before the bounty hunter could answer, something flew through the air and hit them, causing the hunter to go slack, their face transforming into that of another, greener face. A species with the ability to shapeshift. Obi-Wan reached into their neck, pulling out a dart before turning to Padmé.

"Looks like we have another mystery to solve." Several, if Padmé could give her opinion based on the events that had just occurred.

Anakin wasn't going to like this.

[Next Part]

#Star Wars #Anakin Skywalker #Anakin #Padme Amidala #Padme #Obi Wan Kenobi #Obi Wan #Anidala #Heather Writes

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by @lire-casander 💕

Name(s): Jillian

Fandom(s): currently 911 Lone Star. Previously...we don’t have to talk about that.

Where you post: Everything I post goes to Ao3 but I also post them here. (Fanfiction.net is for my old stuff that should never see the light of day and it will stay that way.)

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos) Overall/this year: Brother (I will hear you call) with 402 kudos? I have no idea when that happened but damn. (Technically though it’s a collection of oneshots so the actual oneshot with the most kudos is Friends Like These with 355. Which still, damn.)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos) Overall/This Year: The Boss’s Son (aka the role reversal au) with 258 kudos.

Favorite story you've written so far: Probably You Can Learn to Love (Again) (aka the teacher au) just because it was the most personal thing I wrote. I spent so much time and effort on it and I do actually love the way it came out.

Fic you were nervous to post: I think it’s a tie between I had most, and then all of you because it was the first thing I had written in years and the first one for a new fandom and Trouble Will Come because it was the most original thing I had ever done (this is pre-AUs, mind you). I (used to) tend to stick pretty close to canon but here I was writing a multi-chapter sequel for one of my own fics for the character with the least screen time involving two OCs and it was kind of terrifying.

How do you choose your titles?: Usually from a song or I bother @officerrxyes or @terramous and they come up with one for me. They are both much better at it than I am.

Do you outline?: Yes. Almost every time. Sometimes it’s only 1 or 2 bullet points, but often it’s much more. I like having it so I can keep track and delete things as I go or to laugh at it once I am done and used none of it.

Complete: 47 this year, all for Lone Star. Fun fact: according to Ao3 I have published 238,549 words during my time on the site (5 years)...and 191,275 of those have been this year. So, yeah.

In-Progress: So many. I have 6 docs tabs open as I am writing this. There will definitely be at least 4 more full fics before the end of the year for events and other assorted things plus I have 4 more prompts to complete for those ficlets.

Coming soon/not yet started: Even more. I keep joking that I have anywhere between 30-40 wips going at any given time and that’s not a lie. I am considering a part 2 to a certain AU, I still have some of those prompts I took earlier in the year to finish, @bellakitse convinced me to write another prompt (she didn’t have to try very hard, I was already strongly considering it) and...I think that’s mostly it? I also have a doc with just ideas that I’d like to get to at some point and there are many things on that doc. It all comes down to time and motivation.

Prompts?: I love prompts, feel free to send them whenever! I swear I will get to them at some point, really. At the moment I am absolutely taking them for the ficlets and I still have a bthb card that I need to finish so I might post that again once I have some of the other stuff in my inbox done.

Upcoming work you're most excited about: Maybe the one I keep referring to as the angsty christmas fic? It’s going to be angsty but if it goes the way I want it to it will also be very sweet, we’ll see. I’m also pretty excited about my tarlos secret santa fic but I can’t say anything about it for obvious reasons. And also that “secretly married and gets hurt at work prompt.” I started outlining it last night and I think I am going to have fun with the format!

No-pressure Tags: this is just me trying to remember who hasn’t been tagged and I apologize if I double tag you @reyesstrand @prodigalleverage @moviegeek03 @sneetchestoo @sunshinestrand @letitialewiss

#writing things #tagged things #I mean it's not like my past fandoms are really secret because (some of) my stuff is on ao3 #but I prefer to focus on the now

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tuntematonkorppi · 3 years

Note

Fanfic Writer Ask Game: 1,3,4,6,7,9,10,12,13 and 16 :)

Well hello, someone isn’t fucking around x)

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

i started reading fanfic probablyyyy 14 or 15 years ago. My sister had given me her old laptop and she had left a couple of her stuff and some fic she had downloaded on it so i read them even tho i didn’t know the fandoms really well and i had no idea who most of the characters were.

i started writing fanfic i think 12 or 13 years ago. i don’t remember exactly when i started writing or publishing.

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do?

well, i have a couple of absolute fav fics (like anyone else i guess), but i can’t say that they actually inspired me to write. like i admire the prose and the plot and the characterizations of these fics but i usually find inspiration in the canon material, or in unrelated movie plots, or in situations from my actual life.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

THREE? ThAt’S CRUEL DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BOOKMARKS I HAVE???

okay let’s see what i liked lately.

the switch by moonprincess92

jyn/cassian. It takes ten years of other relationships, broken limbs, quitting jobs, starting new ones, Instagram posts, depression, almost marriages and Thanksgiving turkeys for Jyn and Cassian to realise that they belong together.

it’s over 100k and it’s fucking glorious.

a lesson in navigation by sandalaris

seth/kate alternate s2, over 30k and still in progress and omg i love it so much it’s fucking perfect

and one from a fandom i don’t really participate in anymore but that i love love love love LOOOOVE

find what fits by @everythingremainsconnected

amanda/martin a dghda pacific rim au and it’s fucking amazing

6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction?

i go to ao3, i type the pairing in the search window, i filter for english fics and then i go through all the pages, opening the fics that looks promising on new tabs. then i read.

Answered 7 already.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

well it’s actually kinda hard to figure out because i’m not super involved in fandoms anymore and i don’t know if the authors i love are well known or not. so, yeah, sorry x)

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

at the moment i’m very much back on my rogue one bullshit, but i’m also obsessed with fdtd. i’m also still very much into kastle and leverage. i used to be super into other star wars stuff, dghda, the magicians, captain america and wynonna earp but not that much anymore.

12. What’s your favorite title you’ve come up with and why?

i don’t really come up with titles tbh i just look up the lyrics of the songs i’m listening in repeat at the moment i’m writing a particular fic and see what fits best.

my current favorite title is for a fic i haven’t started publishing yet and it’s a 5+1 fics whose working title used to be “whump fest”. now it’s “you gotta love all the pain”

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

hahahah i’m 99% a pantser. i sort of know where i’m going but i very veeeery rarely outline my fic. out of all my wips, i’ve currently outlined only two and i can tell you that if anyone look at those outlines, they might think i wrote them while being high on LSD and having a stroke at the same time.

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching?

i mostly research recovery times and medical stuff the most and usually i don’t fall into an endless rabbit hole. i did however got sucked into a youtube vortex while researching snowboard tricks for my snowboard au rogue one fic.

Thank you so muuuch!

Fic Writer Ask Game

#replies #tunte tries to be a writer #fuckyeahdeafandasexual

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bookworm-2692 · 3 years

Text

tagged by @supermarketcrayons way back in july (before they changed their url which meant when i opened the tab again it was like “this doesnt exist” and i had to type in the new url lmao)

nicknames: i dont really have any.... usually just called my name. or “book” online

zodiac: cancer

height: 176cm (or 5′9 for you american heathens)

hogwarts house: either hufflepuff or ravenclaw idk

last thing I googled: “the first nonary game airdeari” so i could bring up a link to this fic for a previous tag game post lmao. good fic, i recommend

song stuck in my head: i mean im actively listening to music rn which means i cant get songs stuck in my head. currently listening to kedvesem by byealex (see: a previous ask post to see how slow it takes to actually listen to these songs lmao)

number of followers: 477.... how do i have that many.... altho given ive had this same tumblr for so many years i wouldnt be surprised if many many many of them were inactive rn haha

amount of sleep: probably only got like six hours last night lmao

lucky number: dont... have one???

dream job: dunno. im lost in life lmao

Wearing: green (plaid-patterned??) overalls and a black tshirt

favourite song: as i said, roar like a lion by keiino. the sheer power of that song....

favourite instrument: idk.... i like watching people play whatever instruments so... maybe ill say piano bc one of my friends plays and hes super good at it and its mesmerising watching him play (but he now lives interstate grrr so i cant watch him play anymore)

favourite author: dunno. i still really like six of crows so i guess leigh bardugo? more realistically, probably this fic author (i tagged them in another one of these and feel like im bothering them now, so this time you get a link to their ao3 lmao)

favorite animal noises: dunno??? havent heard animals in a while, or at least not enough to make an impression

aesthetic: comfy clothes. i want to be comfortable

Random: starting the process of bookbinding again, which is to say copying the fic into word and formatting chapters and stuff. except its a 400k word fic so i had to split it up.... and turns out the best way to split it is into five separate novels wish me luck lmao

tagging: @lebannabell @adrift-in-eden @caelytrix @spacedogprincess @the-pulp-almanac @qayalec do it or dont, also sorry for tagging you guys in so many of these, im just.... catching up on all the ones i was tagged in all year? whoops?

#about me

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baejax-the-great · 4 years

Note

5&6 for the fanfic asks!

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

Ahhh I feel a little bad writing this because I can be SO persnickety when reading things. For example, I just don’t like reading things that are in the first person. This isn’t just fanfic-- any fiction written in the first person just doesn’t work for me. I do enjoy reading (nonfiction) memoirs, though, so that’s the exception. But yeah, if I open a fic and realize it’s in the first person, I immediately close out. I suppose I’ve never read any fic in the second person, either.

I’m also not big on fics that include overt character-bashing, even if I don’t care for that character, or fics that use a lot of fake language. Depending on how much I like the rest of the fic, these are more easily overlooked.

Actually my biggest pet peeve is on this site where people just start a fic without saying what pairing it is or indicating it is fic. What is that? It always confuses me when I’m scrolling and suddenly it’s a story with no warning. The moment I realize it’s fic, I just scroll to the end. Warn a person.

I’m sorry. These are personal pet peeves, not judgments on using these elements.

6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction?

I don’t do a lot of searching on AO3, so I mostly rely on what crosses my dash on tumblr or fic recs from friends. At any given time I have a BUNCH of tabs open that I got from tumblr as a sort of “to read” situation. I do not effectively use the bookmark or subscription options on AO3 whatsoever.

The exception is when looking up rare pairs-- AO3 is more easily navigated for me when there are fewer than 30 works for a pairing cries in Dorian x Varric.

I mostly read fic on AO3. It has dark mode, which is the only way I can read most days. I had a whole post about how I struggle to read any fic on this hellsite because of issues with font/color/size/my chronic neurological disorder.

When I was 14 or 15, I spent one summer on ffnet before rapidly falling out of fandom and forgetting it existed. I wonder if my fics are still there. Does ffnet still exist?

From this ask game

#I'm not here to tell people to stop using fake languages in their fics #I know a lot of people enjoy that and yall should be having fun you know #I also guess there have been arguments about first person third person past tense present tense #and like write what you want I guess is my message there #I do not want to discourage anyone from doing what they want!!!#except for not warning me it's fic #actually I'd like to heavily discourage people from writing in this style because I find it so incredibly annoying #Give it a title and list a pairing and maybe a rating or a HINT if it's fluffy or sad and then the fic #that is my suggestion to everyone #midnightprelude

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willowandfog · 4 years

Photo

Chapter Two Is Here!

This new fic is the second part to my fic I wrote for InuKag Week, One Week Sooner. If you haven’t read it yet you can read it here.

I would like to dedicate this new fic to @ruddcatha, she was a huge supporter and a tremendous help to me when writing One Week Sooner, and when we were so choked up on the tragedy of the story she suggested I write a sequel. So a huge thank you @ruddcatha, I love you!

Summary: When you look at me, do you see what you lost or do you see all of me?

Read it:

FFN or AO3 or below the cut:

If you would like to be tagged for this fic, please let me know!

Chapter Two

Two days passed before she considered texting Inuyasha. She was glad she hadn’t given him her number, it gave her time to process and decide what to do. Now that she had met him she was eager to know him. Despite her negative thoughts on the situation she found herself pulling out her phone to text him.

From: (Maybe Kagome?)

3:56 PM

Hey, it’s Kagome. If you’re free I’d love to go out tonight.

From: Inuyasha

4:15 PM

I’m glad you finally decided to go out. I’m available, did you have something in mind?

From: Kagome

4:16 PM

Kinda. Could you pick me up at like 9? Dress cas

From: Inuyasha

4:16 PM

Mysterious. Yeah, I’ll be there at 9, where do you live?

Kagome gave him her address before sighing with relief and nervousness. She glanced at the time. She had a little time but was too nervous to do anything other than start getting ready. She showered and was blow drying her hair when she got another text from Inuyasha. She turned off the dryer and set it down on the sink, picking up her phone. He had sent her a picture of an outfit laid out on a bed. A red polo shirt and simple black jeans.

From: Inuyasha

5:56 PM

Will this be ok?

From: Kagome

5:57 PM

Lol. Are you getting ready all ready? =P

From: Inuyasha

5:59 PM

Just making sure I have something appropriate to wear. Since I don’t know where we are going.

From: Kagome

6:01 PM

What shoes are you wearing?

He sent her a photo of a pair of black converse.

From: Kagome

6:01 PM

Lol. That will be fine. Looks like I’m changing what I had planned though.

From: Inuyasha

6:02 PM

Why?

From: Kagome

6:02 PM

One sec.

Kagome ran to her room to lay out the outfit she had planned on wearing on the bed. She laid out her black leather jacket and tucked her red lacy camisole inside of it, grabbing her black mini skirt to lay beside it before heading to the door to snag her red high-top converse from the floor. She carried them to her room, setting them strategically and snapping a photo. She sent the photo to Inuyasha and laughed at the irony.

From: Inuyasha

6:05 PM

I thought you said casual? You look like you’re going on a hot date.

From: Kagome

6:06 PM

It is casual! I’ll see you in a few hours.

Kagome took her time getting ready, deciding to leave her hair down she curled it into gentle waves. After failing for the third time to get her shaky nervous hand to draw a wing on her eyelid, she sighed and tossed her pencil down. She crossed her arms across her vanity and laid her head down with a groan. She had apparently fallen asleep because when she lifted her head back up and glanced at the time on her phone it said 8:47.

“Fuck!” She jumped up and looked around her room, she was still in her underwear and hadn’t finished her makeup. “Shit, shit, shit.” She was in a panic, her heart racing. She reached for the outfit on her bed, then stopped. Remembering that she couldn’t wear that. She wanted to cry. “Ok.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Calm down.” She told herself. “It’s just a date, he might even be late picking you up.” She opened her eyes and groaned, knowing that wasn’t true. If anything he was probably gonna be there any second.

She went to her dresser, pulling out a black camisole identical in style to the red one she had wanted to wear and putting it on. She grabbed her light colored high waisted skinny blue jeans from another drawer and yanked them on, hopping around to get them over her butt. She tucked her camisole into them before doing up the button. She raced back over to her vanity and grabbed her eyeliner, giving the wing one more try, perfect. It perfectly matched the one she had on the other eye. “Of course.” She mumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. She gave the air a super light spritz of perfume before spinning herself in it. She waved at the air, hoping to disperse some of the smell. She should have put some on earlier so it had time to settle and not be so strong but it was too late now.

She dabbed some blush on her cheeks and a gentle sweep of highlighter across the tops of her cheekbones. Setting her brush down she took a deep breath studying herself in the mirror. She didn’t look half bad, she was proud of the look she’d managed to throw together in, she glanced at the clock, four minutes. She sighed in relief. She grabbed a pair of All-Star socks from a drawer and her leather jacket off the bed, making her way to the living room. She sat down on the accent chair to pull her socks on, and when she leaned down to pick up her shoes, they weren’t there. She dropped her head in defeat before making her way back to her room to grab them off the bed. She was back in the chair and in the middle of tying her first shoe and tucking the laces into the sides when there was a knock on the door. Her heart jumped and she felt her nervous panic start up again. Pushing it away she called out towards the door. “It’s open!”

The door swung open and there stood Inuyasha looking like God’s most gorgeous gift to womankind. Even in his jeans and polo, he was stunning. She blushed, looking back down to pull her other shoe on.

“I hope you knew that it was me. You don’t even keep your door lo-”

She glanced up at him when he stopped. He was staring at her, and she realized that she was bent over so far that her boobs were about to pop out of her camisole. She smirked, clearing her throat to get his attention. “I keep the door locked at night.” She finished tying her shoe and stood. She grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair and tugged it on.

They rode in semi-awkward silence, Kagome was too nervous to talk and Inuyasha seemed… She looked over at him, he had one hand on the wheel, and his left elbow was propped up on the window, with his hand to his face in a deep contemplating gesture. She told him he should turn at the next light, and when they were heading down the next street she sat forward and gestured to a parking garage on the corner. Inuyasha finally found an open spot after a few minutes of circling and parked the car.

He followed her lead down the block, walking close beside her. “I thought you’d be more talkative.” Kagome said, glancing up at him out of the corner of her eye.

His gaze turned to her and her heart skipped. “Sorry, lots on my mind. But you’re right. I’m probably making a horrible first impression.”

“You were the one that said dates are for getting to know each other.” She teased.

“Right I did. So, care to tell me about yourself?” He raised a brow at her.

“Not really.” She mumbled before stopping at an unmarked door on the side of the building. She smiled at him. “Hope this is ok.” She yanked on the heavy door, and led the way in.

They were bombarded with loud thumping music and the sounds of a crowd, as they approached the bouncer Kagome remembered Inuyasha’s sensitive ears. She turned to look back at him, his ears were wilted slightly but his face didn’t show his discomfort. “Are you going to be ok in here?” She asked, raising her voice slightly for him to catch her words. He raised a questioning brow but nodded. Kagome turned back to the bouncer.

“Kagome!” The bouncer said, smiling. The big shouldered man had ginger hair and a scruffy beard. He stood from his stool and hugged Kagome briefly.

She smiled at him while handing him a fifty for their entry. “Good to see you, Doug.” She patted him on the shoulder and walked past.

Inuyasha followed, leaning down behind her to talk into her ear. “Do you come here a lot?”

She looked back up at him, smiling. “No, not really.”

“But that guy seemed to know you well.”

“I know a lot of people.” She led him over to the bar area. The club was fairly large but there was nothing fancy about it, it looked like a normal club, the only thing that made it special was how exclusive it was, not many people knew it existed.

She ordered two shots of Buffalo Trace from the bartender and handed one of them to Inuyasha. “You do drink right?”

He rolled his eyes at her before taking the shot and setting his glass down. He motioned for the bartender for two more. When the bartender handed them over, Inuyasha scooted one towards her with a raised brow. He motioned with his head towards the shot that was still in her hand as he took another. “Need me to finish that for you?”

She stuck her tongue out at him before taking the shot in her hand and followed it with the one on the bar. “We didn’t come for a drinking contest. I know I’d lose that.” She said to him. “How many you need for a buzz?”

He shrugged. “A lot more than two.”

Kagome laughed. “You can decide how many you want.” She motioned for one more and when it was handed over she told the bartender to put all their drinks on her tab. He nodded before walking away. Kagome raised her shot to Inuyasha before downing it, then made her way to the dance floor. She didn’t wait to see if he followed but went out and began dancing to the dubstep style music. When she felt hands on her hips she glanced behind her, it wasn’t Inuyasha but a very drunk blonde girl. The girl smiled at her and tried to get Kagome to join her group of dancing friends. Kagome glanced around for Inuyasha but couldn’t spot him over the crowd. She was dancing with the girls for a bit and drawing the attention of some guys when she spotted Inuyasha not far away. He danced like he was straight out of a Justin Timberlake music video, and a group of girls had surrounded him. He was allowing them to dance on and around him but was keeping his hands to himself.

Kagome slowly made her way towards his group, starting to feel her slight buzz. She watched him dance from the edge of the crowd, a smile on her face. She liked that he seemed to be enjoying himself. When his eyes lifted and met hers, she found herself biting her lip through her smile and giving him a small wave. Still dancing, he made his way towards her and when he was close enough, he reached past some of the other girls to take her hand. Pulling her through the crowd and into his chest.

“Hi.” He purred into her ear.

She blushed up at him, “Hi.”

He began dancing with her, keeping her close against him. “If you don’t come here often, why are we really here Kagome?” His face was close to hers and she suddenly found it hard to breath.

“Mostly to see how you’d react.” She confessed, flushing.

He put his lips to her ear. “Did I pass your test Kagome?”

She leaned her own head up toward one of his ears. “Not yet.” Pulling back she began dancing with him, while pulling out her phone and shooting off a text. She tucked her phone back into her pocket and turned so her back was to him. He stepped forward to place a hand on her hip, and began moving along with her.

They’d been dancing for only about five minutes when one of the female bartenders approached them, carrying drinks. Kagome gratefully took them from her, turning to Inuyasha with a grin. She handed a shot glass to him. They clinked their glasses and took their shots. Kagome handed the empty glasses to the woman and she in turn handed over two more. Kagome handed another to Inuyasha. He raised a questioning brow at her but joined her. They did one more together before the bartender left them.

When Kagome turned back to Inuyasha he pulled her against his chest. His brow still raised, he leaned down to sniff her. “Your shots weren’t really shots were they?”

She fought down her grin and shook her head. “The ones at the bar were though.”

He shook his head at her. “Why would you do that? You do realize it’ll take a hell of a lot more than that to get me drunk. So why are you doing it?”

“I wanted to see if you would notice. Did you smell it or was it that you were questioning my tolerance?”

“I know you can only hav-” He stopped abruptly.

Kagome leaned forward. “What did you say?” She spoke loudly over the music. “Look I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to do that if I did. We can still have a good time.”

Inuyasha shook his head and took her hand in his, he pulled her towards the exit. She frowned but didn’t resist. When they were outside back on the sidewalk she finally spoke. “Look I’m sorry if it really upset you this much.”

He was leading her back towards the garage but suddenly stopped and turned to her. “I’m not upset, Kagome. But now that I know this was all some kind of weird test and you didn’t actually want to be here, I’m going to take you somewhere else.”

“You are?”

“Of course, this was hardly a real date apparently.” He scoffed.

They made it back to the car and were on the road soon after. Kagome felt a wave of guilt come over her. She felt like she had messed things up but was still conflicted if dating him was even a good idea.

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“You’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes later he parked outside of a large building. Unbuckling he smiled at her. “Come on.”

He took her hand and led her up the stairs to the entrance. There was a man dressed in a suit standing at the door, he opened the door for them as they approached. “Mr. Takahashi, we haven’t seen you here in some time.”

Inuyasha nodded to the man but went inside. There was a huge ballroom inside, large round tables took up one side of the room and there was a huge dancefloor. Couples twirled and danced around each other on the floor, each one was wearing a suit or long gowns. Inuyasha stopped near a coat attendant, turning to try to take Kagome’s jacket from her.

“Inuyasha!” She hissed at him, holding her jacket firmly around herself. “What are we doing here? I am not dressed for this!”

“Neither am I, it’s ok. No one's gonna care.” When she gave him a panicked look he leaned over to speak into her ear. “Have faith Kagome. Trust me.”

She looked into his honey eyes, trying to find something that wasn’t there. She bit her lip before nodding and allowing him to take her jacket. She rubbed at her arms, suddenly chilly at the loss of the jacket on her now bare arms. Inuyasha handed the jacket to the attendant and took the stub from the man. He turned back to Kagome and chuckled a little at her nervous look. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her towards the dancefloor, rubbing her arm with his hand to supply her with some of his warmth. “It’ll be ok.” He whispered to her.

Kagome looked around nervously, some of the people looked at them with odd looks but most didn’t pay attention to them. There was no music currently but the couples were already waiting on the dancefloor for it to begin again. Inuyasha gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her. When they reached the edge of the floor he turned to her. “Ready?” He whispered.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to slow dance Inuyasha.” She hissed at him.

He took one of her hands and rested it on his shoulder before taking her other hand in his. “Just follow my lead, that’s all you have to do.” Then the music started. He placed a hand on her waist and began to lead her through the steps. Kagome could only guess that it was some form of a waltz. She tried not to watch his feet as they moved, trying to feel the direction his body was directing her. She let out a slow nervous breath.

“I don’t think I’m good at this Inuyasha.”

He smiled a sweet smile at her. “It takes practice. You’re doing fine.”

By the time the song was over, she was able to follow the simple pattern the dance seemed to be. The next song began and the steps seemed to be different and she found herself trying to follow the previous pattern and stepped on Inuyasha’s foot a few times. “I’m sorry!” She squeaked. She found herself having to watch his feet again to follow along. When the song came to an end she finally looked up at him and he was grinning at her.

“Doing ok?” He asked.

“How do you remember all of this?”

“Like I said, practice. You’re doing great. And my feet are fine.” He winked at her.

She bit her lip, blushing and looked away. They danced through a few more songs and she found that she didn’t need to look at his feet through any of them. And when another began he pulled her closer, so she was pressed up against his chest. She looked up at him and saw a twinkle in his eyes.

“Now you can’t watch my feet.” He teased into her ear.

Kagome found that she was glad that she didn’t need to as she took the opportunity to rest her head against his chest, taking in the scent that was uniquely his. She sighed in contentment. After a few moments, Inuyasha laid his head on top of hers, moving his hand from her waist to wrap his arm around her. She relaxed, feeling comfort and safe in his arms, the feeling foriegn to her.

The song ended and she pulled back away from him, avoiding his eyes. She cleared her throat and pretended to straighten her shirt, slightly embarrassed that she had gotten so comfortable with him so quickly. The next song started immediately but unlike the others this one had a much quicker pace and seemed to be in the jazz genre.

Kagome shook her head, making a move to leave the floor. “Nope. Can’t do this.”

Inuyasha grabbed her wrist, stopping her from leaving. “Come on.” He pleaded.

She laughed pulling against his grip. “No! I can’t do that, look at them. I don’t know how to dance like that.”

“That’s ok, it’s still fun.” He yanked again, pulling her to him. “Just watch and try to mirror the movements.” When she stood there stubbornly he laughed. “You’ll have fun, I promise.” He joined the others in their fluid movements, eyes never leaving hers. “Come on, Kagome. You know you want to. You’ll never learn if you don’t try. Besides it’s fun just to try.”

She sighed and tried to join in, turning a bright red. “This is payback isn’t it?” She asked him.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Of course not. It’s fun, and you seem to be enjoying yourself.”

She managed to watch the other ladies nearby out of the corner of her eye, Kagome was able to follow along but caused them to be a few steps behind the others. She reached her hand out to Inuyasha like the other ladies did and when he took it, he spun her around before bringing her close to him and dipping her down. He held her there for a moment, looking into her eyes.

Kagome blushed, biting her lip slightly, staring into his amber eyes. “I think in the movies this is where we would kiss.” She whispered.

Inuyasha let out a burst of laughter and he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the end of her nose, Kagome’s heart skipped. He leaned forward again, placing his lips next to her ear. “I heard that.”

Her blush deepened and she smacked his arm. When he stood her back up, Kagome realized the song had ended and everyone was clapping. “Why is everyone clapping? Is it over?”

He grinned at her. “Yeah, we came in late. Why? Disappointed?” He lifted a brow.

“Yes, actually.” She stuck her tongue out at him before turning to make her way back to the coat attendant.

The ride home was in silence again, Kagome still feeling a bit embarrassed about him realizing she was affected by him. I mean, what woman wouldn’t be. He must be used to it.

Inuyasha walked her to her door, and after she unlocked her door she turned back to him. “Ummm.”

He stepped forward and pulled her in for a hug. “Look.” He swallowed. “I know we just met, but I had a lot of fun, even though the night started out kinda odd. I hope we can try again sometime.”

“I think I’d like that.” She whispered.

He pulled back slightly from the hug to look down at her. Hesitantly he leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight Kagome.” He pulled away and turned, heading down the stairs.

#inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #sequel #one week sooner sequel #all of me #willowandfog

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shinelikethunder · 5 years

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Fandom Userscript Cookbook: Five Projects to Get Your Feet Wet

Target audience: This post is dedicated, with love, to all novice, aspiring, occasional, or thwarted coders in fandom. If you did a code bootcamp once and don’t know where to start applying your new skillz, this is for you. If you're pretty good with HTML and CSS but the W3Schools Javascript tutorials have you feeling out of your depth, this is for you. If you can do neat things in Python but don’t know a good entry point for web programming, this is for you. Seasoned programmers looking for small, fun, low-investment hobby projects with useful end results are also welcome to raid this post for ideas.

You will need:

The Tampermonkey browser extension to run and edit userscripts

A handful of example userscripts from greasyfork.org. Just pick a few that look nifty and install them. AO3 Savior is a solid starting point for fandom tinkering.

Your browser dev tools. Hit F12 or right click > Inspect Element to find the stuff on the page you want to tweak and experiment with it. Move over to the Console tab once you’ve got code to test out and debug.

Javascript references and tutorials. W3Schools has loads of both. Mozilla’s JS documentation is top-notch, and I often just keep their reference lists of built-in String and Array functions open in tabs as I code. StackOverflow is useful for questions, but don’t assume the code snippets you find there are always reliable or copypastable.

That’s it. No development environment. No installing node.js or Ruby or Java or two different versions of Python. No build tools, no dependency management, no fucking Docker containers. No command line, even. Just a browser extension, the browser’s built-in dev tools, and reference material. Let’s go.

You might also want:

jQuery and its documentation. If you’re wrestling with a mess of generic spans and divs and sparse, unhelpful use of classes, jQuery selectors are your best bet for finding the element you want before you snap and go on a murderous rampage. jQuery also happens to be the most ubiquitous JS library out there, the essential Swiss army knife for working with Javascript’s... quirks, so experience with it is useful. It gets a bad rap because trying to build a whole house with a Swiss army knife is a fool’s errand, but it’s excellent for the stuff we're about to do.

Git or other source control, if you’ve already got it set up. By all means share your work on Github. Greasy Fork can publish a userscript from a Github repo. It can also publish a userscript from an uploaded text file or some code you pasted into the upload form, so don’t stress about it if you’re using a more informal process.

A text editor. Yes, seriously, this is optional. It’s a question of whether you’d rather code everything right there in Tampermonkey’s live editor, or keep a separate copy to paste into Tampermonkey’s live editor for testing. Are you feeling lucky, punk?

Project #1: Hack on an existing userscript

Install some nifty-looking scripts for websites you visit regularly. Use them. Ponder small additions that would make them even niftier. Take a look at their code in the Tampermonkey editor. (Dashboard > click on the script name.) Try to figure out what each bit is doing.

Then change something, hit save, and refresh the page.

Break it. Make it select the wrong element on the page to modify. Make it blow up with a huge pile of console errors. Add a console.log("I’m a teapot"); in the middle of a loop so it prints fifty times. Savor your power to make the background wizardry of the internet do incredibly dumb shit.

Then try a small improvement. It will probably break again. That's why you've got the live editor and the console, baby--poke it, prod it, and make it log everything it's doing until you've made it work.

Suggested bells and whistles to make the already-excellent AO3 Savior script even fancier:

Enable wildcards on a field that currently requires an exact match. Surely there’s at least one song lyric or Richard Siken quote you never want to see in any part of a fic title ever again, right?

Add some text to the placeholder message. Give it a pretty background color. Change the amount of space it takes up on the page.

Blacklist any work with more than 10 fandoms listed. Then add a line to the AO3 Savior Config script to make the number customizable.

Add a global blacklist of terms that will get a work hidden no matter what field they're in.

Add a list of blacklisted tag combinations. Like "I'm okay with some coffee shop AUs, but the ones that are also tagged as fluff don't interest me, please hide them." Or "Character A/Character B is cute but I don't want to read PWP about them."

Anything else you think of!

Project #2: Good Artists Borrow, Great Artists Fork (DIY blacklisting)

Looking at existing scripts as a model for the boilerplate you'll need, create a script that runs on a site you use regularly that doesn't already have a blacklisting/filtering feature. If you can't think of one, Dreamwidth comments make a good guinea pig. (There's a blacklist script for them out there, but reinventing wheels for fun is how you learn, right? ...right?) Create a simple blacklisting script of your own for that site.

Start small for the site-specific HTML wrangling. Take an array of blacklisted keywords and log any chunk of post/comment text that contains one of them.

Then try to make the post/comment it belongs to disappear.

Then add a placeholder.

Then get fancy with whitelists and matching metadata like usernames/titles/tags as well.

Crib from existing blacklist scripts like AO3 Savior as shamelessly as you feel the need to. If you publish the resulting userscript for others to install (which you should, if it fills an unmet need!), please comment up any substantial chunks of copypasted or closely-reproduced code with credit/a link to the original. If your script basically is the original with some key changes, like our extra-fancy AO3 Savior above, see if there’s a public Git repo you can fork.

Project #3: Make the dread Tumblr beast do a thing

Create a small script that runs on the Tumblr dashboard. Make it find all the posts on the page and log their IDs. Then log whether they're originals or reblogs. Then add a fancy border to the originals. Then add a different fancy border to your own posts. All of this data should be right there in the post HTML, so no need to derive it by looking for "x reblogged y" or source links or whatever--just make liberal use of Inspect Element and the post's data- attributes.

Extra credit: Explore the wildly variable messes that Tumblr's API spews out, and try to recreate XKit's timestamps feature with jQuery AJAX calls. (Post timestamps are one of the few reliable API data points.) Get a zillion bright ideas about what else you could do with the API data. Go through more actual post data to catalogue all the inconsistencies you’d have to catch. Cry as Tumblr kills the dream you dreamed.

Project #4: Make the dread Tumblr beast FIX a thing

Create a script that runs on individual Tumblr blogs (subdomains of tumblr.com). Browse some blogs with various themes until you've found a post with the upside-down reblog-chain bug and a post with reblogs displaying normally. Note the HTML differences between them. Make the script detect and highlight upside-down stacks of blockquotes. Then see if you can make it extract the blockquotes and reassemble them in the correct order. At this point you may be mobbed by friends and acquaintainces who want a fix for this fucking bug, which you can take as an opportunity to bury any lingering doubts about the usefulness of your scripting adventures.

(Note: Upside-down reblogs are the bug du jour as of September 2019. If you stumble upon this post later, please substitute whatever the latest Tumblr fuckery is that you'd like to fix.)

Project #5: Regular expressions are a hard limit

I mentioned up above that Dreamwidth comments are good guinea pigs for user scripting? You know what that means. Kinkmemes. Anon memes too, but kinkmemes (appropriately enough) offer so many opportunities for coding masochism. So here's a little exercise in sadism on my part, for anyone who wants to have fun (or "fun") with regular expressions:

Write a userscript that highlights all the prompts on any given page of a kinkmeme that have been filled.

Specifically, scan all the comment subject lines on the page for anything that looks like the title of a kinkmeme fill, and if you find one, highlight the prompt at the top of its thread. The nice ones will start with "FILL:" or end with "part 1/?" or "3/3 COMPLETE." The less nice ones will be more like "(former) minifill [37a / 50(?)] still haven't thought of a name for this thing" or "title that's just the subject line of the original prompt, Chapter 3." Your job is to catch as many of the weird ones as you can using regular expressions, while keeping false positives to a minimum.

Test it out on a real live kinkmeme, especially one without strict subject-line-formatting policies. I guarantee you, you will be delighted at some of the arcane shit your script manages to catch. And probably astonished at some of the arcane shit you never thought to look for because who the hell would even format a kinkmeme fill like that? Truly, freeform user input is a wonderful and terrible thing.

If that's not enough masochism for you, you could always try to make the script work on LiveJournal kinkmemes too!

#userscripts #greasemonkey #tampermonkey #fandom #coding

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