#this has been a draft for almost a year at this point so someone may as well write more ig

[remarcely]

Half A Mind [Batfam Fic Prompt]

It was hard to notice at first.

Jason had hardly bothered to draw on any old memories of his childhood whilst glowing green claws of the pit had their hold on him. He was too angry, too busy festering in resentment and fear.

Then, a year after Red Hoods big splash and once he’d made the deal with Bruce to get better, he went to therapy. It had been one of the conditions, apparently Bruce had started therapy himself after Jason’s death, and eventually he wore down to the idea.

Jason was trying, he wanted it to work, he wanted to stop being the deeply unhappy child stuck in the moment before a bombs timer hit zero.

He was honest, even when the therapist asked about his childhood. For the first time in years he’d tried to look further past his death and found little of anything.

There were short glimpses, hazy images or memories lasting seconds at most, but they were the insignificant things. He remembered a Tuesday morning breakfast when Bruce had slept in late and it’d just been him and Alfred eating, but he couldn’t recall his mother’s face.

Then Dick, because of course it would be him, began to shoulder his way into his little brother’s life by crashing Jason’s apartment at the most random of times. Jason would cook them something and Dick would do shit all to help, sitting at the kitchen island with his incessant yammering.

In truth, Jason enjoyed the company and the constant flow of words certainly helped quiet his mind- he just wished he knew what the hell Dick was talking about.

A familiar voice in the back of his mind argued that Dick was pulling his leg, making up the skiing trips and the escapes to Dick’s apartment when Bruce had been an asshole, to seem like a better brother, but Jason chased the thought away with a sharp pinch to his arm. He knew Dick wouldn’t lie about it and there was no way the nostalgic and wistful look on his stupid face could be faked, he wasn’t that good of an actor.

So, Jason bit his tongue, nodded along as he refused to look his brother in the eye and tried to listen the best he could to force a memory out of the heavy fog that clung to his childhood.

#jason todd #dick grayson #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #archive of our own #fanfic #batfamily #batman #batfam #jason todd headcanon #jason todd hc #dc prompt #batman prompt #jason todd prompt #you are welcome to add on #this has been a draft for almost a year at this point so someone may as well write more ig #im not projecting #shut up #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dc fanfic #dc comics #dc universe

[zeenimf]

Phei of the Wind | Draft 3 Complete

Hiya all~ It's been a while, but today I've finished the third draft of my fantasy novel Phei of the Wind. As many of you know I've been working on this novel for more than twelve years now, and this is the most definitive version I've ever made. It's still going to be revised and worked upon, of course, but most story beats have now been completed. It's composed of 29 chapters with a hefty 109000 words. I'm writing my thesis this semester, and I realised that I was so close to finishing that I couldn't think about anything else. So I went burn-out mode and wrote some 20000 words these two weeks, and now while I'm sitting in my eco-literature class (which is very interesting but my brain is too obsessed to stop writing), I've typed up the last few words.

So for those who have somehow missed me talking about this, it's a story about Phei, a halfling-harpy who lives in a world above the clouds. She is a priestess of sorts, and she notices that the world is slowly growing pale and empty. When she learns of a possible cause she runs away to the world below the clouds, the world where her people exiled themselves from. There she travels across the lands, figuring out not just what's happening to the world, but what happened to her people as well while meeting a cast of eccentric characters.

As in regards to the third draft, the biggest change is the endpoint. The previous draft ended at a point that made sense for a single novel, but would require another novel to tell the whole story. This new draft doesn't stop there. I shuffled around a lot of things and added some 40k words after that point. I wanted Phei's story to be composed of one big book. It doesn't mean that don't want to tell other stories in this world, but Phei's story is done when this book is done.

So what's next? I'm going to go through the entire book once, since I have a pile of notes that I thought of when writing this draft. And then I want to send the book out to a handful of beta readers. I'll send a post out for that tonight or tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled if you're interested in that!

And lastly I'd like to thank you all for your nice comments and support! Every time someone commented something nice about the story it kept me going, so I think it may have taken a lot longer without all of you. <3

I'll leave you with a snippet (picking something that has no spoilers was haaaard), and hope you will all have a wonderful day!

xx

The wind causes Phei to lose her grip on time. Hours blow past as Phei glides, effortless. She knows of birds being able to sleep in the sky, and wonders if her people used to glide in their sleep too. Her dream quickly fades when she dashes to the right again, a sliver of upwards current catching her attention. Agile, yet absent-minded, she crosses past the forests until she can see the sands of Iekin edge towards the mountains, there where the narrow peaks and pillars of Sunde come into view. Without the stormy clouds Phei is able to take in the mountain in its entirety. It is a lonely mountain, imprisoned by the hundreds of spikes surrounding it. The evening sun shines over it, making the golden chains draping down all around the mountain glitter in sinful light. Glistering like that, Phei imagines the mountain as almost peaceful. It shows no sign of the great horrors that have been committed at its feet. It is like a passive observer, nothing more, nothing less.

Taglist, let me know if you want to be added / removed!

@ink-fireplace-coffee | @write-the-stars-and-shadows | @henrike-does-writing-sometimes | @ladywithalamp | @chazzawrites | @writingonesdreams | @generalblizzarddreamer | @peepos-prose | @writing-is-a-martial-art | @dahliaornelas​​ | @ofbloodandflowers | @magic-is-something-we-create | @ettawritesnstudies | @47crayons | @inkflight | @thelaughingstag | @writing-with-l | @immunetoliteraryanalysis​ | @strangerays​ | @luerange​  | @snowinks​ | @the-orangeauthor​ | @waysofink​ | @fablewritten​ | @houndmouthed​ | @midnights-call​ | @phantomnations​ | @teriwrites​

#gust #writelbr #fantasy #wip #spilled ink

[fernsnailz]

Not sure if you’re familiar with Crash Bandicoot 4: It's About Time but I feel like Sonic Prime is the animated version of that game like the plot/style doesn’t really fit Sonic games while Crash both stays in that arcade jungle setting AND has the shattered time and space themes which they focus heavily on the recent game. The villains already are a bunch of scientists and I feel like either the team from Crash games or someone specific like Nicholas Cole just slapped Sonic Prime on the script for a Crash Netflix show and edited some characters

okay i understand the point you’re trying to make, but unfortunately you sent this ask to someone who works in animation and i need to set the record straight here: that is not how TV animation works

first, you’re right that Nicholas Kole worked on both Crash 4 and Sonic Prime! he’s also done work for the Spyro series, some Disney projects, and a bunch of other cool stuff. however, he specializes almost entirely in character design and concept art. this means that he helped develop specific parts of the visual look for Prime REALLY early on, such as designing some of the characters like Knuckles the Dread. however, that was likely the extent of his involvement in the show. character designers and concept artists normally do not edit the script, and often these artists draw their concepts before the script is even finished.

this is all stuff that happens VERY early in a show’s development, so Kole’s work on the show is probably multiple years old by now. and yeah, that jungle art DOES look a bit like the stuff that he did on Crash 4… because that’s just what Kole's art style looks like. he uses bright colors and varied shapes in a really distinct way on EVERY project he works on, which is probably why they hired him on Prime!

but even if that concept art was inspired by Crash, the jungle universe doesn’t even look like the concept art in the final version of the show! because it was concept art!! it was meant to be an exploration in styles, not a definitive look at the final product. this jungle below is a COMPLETELY different look than what was explored in the concept art. it sooooorta looks like the style of Crash 4, but it's FAR different from the initial concepts presented earlier.

(any person who modeled and painted this environment would ALSO have to be a dedicated Crash fan if they wanted to just turn Sonic Prime into Crash Prime)

and so far, this is completely ignoring the fact that the jungle concept art included in the ask probably isn't even Kole's. it looks very different from his style to me, and as far as i can find no artist has actually been credited for the leaked Prime concept art floating around. Kole has only mentioned his contributions to the character designs on Prime.

this is all a HUGE tanget from the actual argument you're trying to make in this ask, and i apologize for that - but my main point here is that this is a trend i see a lot in online fandoms, where people really like to place blame for issues in media onto one specific person and say "hey it's THIS guy's fault that this show is bad." what a lot of people don’t seem to understand is that these are collaborative art forms. there are so, so many people who worked on Prime, all the way from the first draft of the script to when it was being exported for Netflix, and a lot of these people probably don’t even show up in the credits! if there’s something you don’t like about this show, it’s unfair to single out a specific person to blame because TV shows are not made by one person. they come from a team of artists all working together to try and make something great, not one of the concept artists trying to turn the new sonic show into Crash 5. Nicholas Kole is a single character designer that worked on Prime. he is not solely responsible for an artstyle that you may dislike, because he is not the only person that developed the artstyle. there is no specific person to blame here.

regardless, i can’t really say much about your main point concerning the similarities between Crash 4 and Prime because i don't know as much about Crash series. my instinct is to just go “yeah of course they’re similar, multiverse stories with brightly colored rocks are the big trend in all franchises right now and they’re both 3D platformers from similar eras of gaming that have always featured cartoon talking animals fighting evil scientists, so of course they’ll seem alike.” but hey i mean what do i know

that's all, please know that this isn't meant to be an attack against you or anything! i'm just really used to seeing people blame individual artists and animators for stuff that isn't their fault, and i'm just. kinda tired of it. i will also spare you from my second ramble/disagreement about a sonic game or show in the crash style. because i think that would look fuckin INCREDIBLE

#blease.. if you're going to critique an animated project then have a basic understanding of how the animation pipeline works #hello welcome to my nicholas kole defense post in this essay i will explain how animation for TV is made #fernasks #long post

[wttcsms]

hopeless, breathless, burning slow, masterlist ; rin itoshi

in the middle of trying to embrace the new “real and messy model” facade your publicist keeps pushing upon you in order to get you into the good graces of the masses, you might take it a step too far. in your defense, nothing is more real than still hopelessly pining after a boy who has 1) already broken your heart more than once! and 2) definitely does not like you the way you like him. the messy side of things? he’s also your friend with benefits. except, you’re pretty sure the two of you aren’t friends, so he’s technically your ex with benefits. yeah, how’s that for “real and messy”?

COMING SOON! pairing rin itoshi x f!reader content contains/will contain timeskip/pro athlete!rin x nepo-baby/model!reader, strangers with a history, second chance (more like fourth chance) romance, almost high school sweethearts (y’all have been doing this situationship shit for years lmao), fwb to lovers, rin AND you are both ass at feelings, eventual smut, jealous&protective!rin, depictions of panic attacks, mentions of dead parent, more to be added  word count tbd... (estimated to be ~50k, subject to change)

one / two / three / four

track list !  side a: honeymoon avenue, ariana grande / death by a thousand cuts, taylor swift / mirrorball, taylor swift / a lucid dream, verite / worth it for the feeling, rebecca black / if i weren’t me, katherine li / damage you still do, mikayla pasterfield / things i wish you said, sabrina carpenter / monster, lady gaga / fake smile, ariana grande / delicate, taylor swift side b: shameless, camila cabello / good looking, suki waterhouse / heartless, the weeknd / die for you, the weeknd / congratulations, mac miller / search & rescue, drake / kiss it better, rihanna / as it was, harry styles / nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex / afterglow, taylor swift / daylight, taylor swift 

author’s notes 

[apr. 10, 2023] hello!!! starting towards the end of the month/early may, i plan on having the final drafts of both of the first acts completed 🤭 this originally started as a one shot with the basic premise of “5 times rin itoshi breaks your heart + the 1 time he gives you his” but i had so much fun writing the one shot that it grew into a monster entirely of its own accord & i gave in and made some adjustments in order to better suit it :) now it’s a multipart fic! spoiler: rin still breaks your heart. several times. </3 but while writing the original one shot, i realized that rin’s heart had been yours/the reader’s the whole entire time!!! so, this fic explores you & him maturing + realizing how to properly communicate your feelings. i think the whole point is that it doesn’t matter if you love someone if they can’t feel it. 

#rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #rin itoshi smut #itoshi rin smut #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #one shot #drabble #lemon #fluff #angst #series: hopeless breathless burning slow

[formulafics]

Hi there! I just wanted to come on here and say firstly I love your fics so much like they are amazingly good and also wanted to say keep up the good work :)

And secondly what tips would you give someone who wants to make their own smau?

And I hope you are having a good day/night ❤️❤️

A fic writers guide to figuring out how to create your own smau’s, and not lose your mind doing it!

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much, I appreciate it 🥹🫶🏻 Also, i’m sorry it’s taken me a while to answer you! <3 Since I get asked this quite a bit, I went ahead and made an ‘official’ post for it. You can ask any other questions in the comment, or through my ask box!

First and foremost, I’ve made a few posts about this, and as I always say, i’m still figuring it out myself, so take this advice lightly, as you may not agree with all of it as you make your own works! This is solely from my experiences as someone who’s been writing and making fanfictions for at least 4 years.

✎ ✐ CREATING SMAU’S 📱

This account is the first account i’ve made Social Media au’s on! Therefore, i’ve only been doing these for a little over 4 months.

My first tip is to play around with your layout! When you read smau’s, i’m sure you notice that almost every fic has a different look. There’s no right or wrong way to do it, just mess with it until you find what you like!

My second tip is to use whatever app your creating in the fic as reference. What I mean is, even though I do not use twitter, I have it downloaded so I can look at tweets and the responses, in an attempt to mirror that in my works! Same goes for instagram, and any other social media app you use! I also use the profile pictures that the drivers have by looking at their pages, as well as what other drivers/celebs like their posts.

Add on to the second tip: While I suggest doing that, It is up to you! Youre creating a fictional story and if you’d rather take the likes and responses into your own hands, that’s okay! That’s a part of learning what you like, but I added it as it’s something that I personally find incredibly helpful at times.

My third tip, and possibly my most important one is to have. a. layout. Fanfictions, for me, are so much easier to create when I take the time to lay it all out! You can either make a draft on Tumblr or use your notes app to just make bullet points of the order your story should go. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it’s genuinely so helpful in allowing you to keep track of your story, as well as not missing any of the points you want in your fic! I find that if I make a smau without a layout, there are often small mistakes that I only notice after it’s posted, and while it’s not that bad, It’s still much more satisfying to not have those mistakes.

My fourth tip is working smarter not harder. That’s not to say that if you don’t use these things, you’re not smart - in fact, to any smau creators that edit everything themselves instead of using a generator, mad props to you. However, if you’re interested in the generator, I use it for my twitter posts! I also added some other apps I use when creating my fics.

⌕ TWITTER GENERATOR LINK

-> used to create my twitter threads

⌕ COPY AND PAST SYMBOLS

-> symbols used in my fics, and to decorate my blog!

my symbol archive: © ★ ❀ ⋆ ⤷ ⤻ ⌕ ⌇ ⌗ ✎ ✐

⌕ PICSART

-> used to crop pictures, add filters to them, as well as the border you see on my tweets! it’s free (with some restrictions if you don’t pay), but still has a good selection of ways to edit.

⌕ PHONTO

-> the best phont app i’ve come across. used to create my header and any pictures you see with words on them, such as the header for this here post!

⌕ CANVA

-> i don’t use this one a ton, mostly because i forget about it, but it’s incredibly helpful for creating magazine esque covers, and i usually would use it for adding an article to my fic!

My fifth tip is to not worry about the length of your smau. It doesn’t matter if your fic is one instagram post or 20 of them, just do what you want to do, and what you enjoy doing!

Other than that, I honestly don’t have many tips! Just take your time, use inspo when needed, and have fun with it. At the end of the day, people just enjoy having more content of their favorite drivers!

✎ ✐ WRITING FANFICTION 💻

While I have yet to write full fanfictions on this account, a majority of my time in the fanfiction universe has been spent writing, so here are some tips for that, if anyone wants them!

1. Take your time: It’s so easy to get into the “I just want this done” mindset, but that is not helpful at all! It’s important to try and remember that there’s no deadline for you to complete your works. Slow and steady wins the race. I once wrote a 15k word fanfiction and it took me over two weeks, and even then, I tried to rush it, and that gave me MAJOR burn out. In fact, after that fic, I deactivated the account I had, and took a long break from something I enjoy, writing.

2. Use inspiration to your advantage: Even if you already have a good plot and layout for your story, it never hurts to find pictures and prompts that you can include. Take the time to understand the overall vibe/concept of your plot, then take to tumblr to try and find some pictures that fit it! This can also help motivate you when you’re feeling writers block.

3. As with the smau’s, have a layout. When I write fics, especially long, in depth pieces, I like to break the plot apart and write in portions, then add it together at the end, rather than one straight shot for the whole thing! I hate when i’m in the middle of a story and realize I completely missed a certain scenario I wanted to have in the fic, or when I forgot to emphasize something.

And those are all of the big tips I have for writing!

✎ ✐ THE MENTAL ASPECT 🧠

While writing and creating fanfiction is fun, and can be a stress reliever, it can also be a stress inducing activity, especially when you run an account doing it. As someone with ADHD, and a chronic overthinker, I have tendencies to stress myself out with a number of things, so here are some tips on avoiding that.

First, remember that this is a hobby. This is supposed to be fun, so if you aren’t having fun, consider stepping back. Try to determine why you’re not enjoying it, and go from there.

“I feel overwhelmed with requests.” Almost anyone who writes fanfiction has likely been here - so, know you aren’t alone. When requests start overwhelming you, I would suggest to close them, then take a break from them! Remember that they are requests, not requirements. If you don’t like an idea or aren’t motivated to write it, do not write it. As much as it can suck to have to deny a request or put it on the back burner, it’s not worth forfeiting something you enjoy.

“I just don’t know how to write/create this” That’s okay! Like almost anything in life, it’s a process of learning. Yes, it’s frustrating, but try to remember that this will probably teach you something that will be helpful in the future! If you do not want to take a break, consider looking at prompts and inspiration for your story. Take the time to reflect on your original plot or idea, and either try to change things, or add things that help your idea come together. Also know that if you’re struggling with ideas, many fic writers are probably willing to help you out! While I can’t speak for everyone, i’m more than happy to help.

“I want to write, but at the same time, I don’t enjoy it that much.” This is a feeling that you either understand or don’t, and it’s a good thing if you don’t, but is completely okay if you do! This is a sign of burnout or writers block, and unfortunately, many of us go through it. Like any other hobby, when you do it for an extended period of time, or hyperfixate on it all the time, you may find that you want to do it, but can’t enjoy it. Time should fix this, but you can also reach out to other writers, or even those who read your work! When this happens, either take a step back to remind yourself why you enjoy writing, or take on a new idea, with no commitment. Just write something that comes to your mind, and hopefully it’ll allow you to unclog your brain. (That sounds kind of mean, but I don’t mean for it to lmao.)

Secondly, if you can have a friend or mutual that will help build on your ideas, that is so incredibly helpful. Even if said person is just there to provide some prompts or pictures when you need it, it’s a life saver. That being said, I know not everyone just has this, so the least I can offer is my own inbox and dms.

Huge shoutout to @renarots. I’m sure by now you guys are used to me mentioning her in my fics, but she truly truly has helped me so so much and I cannot imagine making these fics without them. 🥹❤️ And also they’re one of the best friends i’ve ever had, echo chamber aside.

Lastly, write whatever the fuck you want to write. Fanfiction is a world of its own. There’s room for any and everything. As long as you aren’t being downright offensive and harmful, write whatever it is you’d like to, because there is bound to be a number of people who absolutely cherish your work. That’s part of the beauty of this app.

#i fucking love yapping #dae’s yapping 🗣️ #writing tips #social media au #tips for writers

[99corentine]

How To Write Good by Corentine

THE DRAFTING PROCESS, PART 1/2

Hello, people were interested in some writing tips by me so I, uh, sort of kind of cranked out a writing guide in a few hours. I’m not sure if this will be a very comprehensive or helpful guide but let’s give it a try!

⭐ Starting disclaimers: Please remember as with all things that my method is not necessarily the best method, everyone is different and over time you’ll find your own process.

I write romance, so my advice is skewed towards writing that and I’m not sure how helpful it will be for gen fic. I publish fanfic chapter by chapter to AO3 so it’s also skewed to someone doing the same, not someone writing a full novel they want to get published. 

I’m going to be using GOL HAH DOV (GHD) for writing examples because, well, it’s a (almost-)finished longfic so it’s as good a reference as any, but obviously GHD is not everyone’s cup of tea. I’ll also occasionally reference Tooth for a Tooth (T4T) which apologies is very far from finished, but the Baldur’s Gate 3 fandom is vastly different to the Skyrim one, so it’s useful to cross-compare them.

Also worth bearing in mind: I have been writing fanfiction since I was about 13, and I’m now 33. That’s 20 years of experience. Do you know what I wrote when I was 13? Hot garbage. Writing is a learned skill that, much like playing a musical instrument or learning literally any other craft, you must put time and effort into to improve.

However although ‘practice makes perfect’ is fundamentally true, that’s also kind of lame advice. So here is what I personally do, which may be helpful in figuring out what you want to do. 

STEP ONE: YOU NEED AN IDEA FIRST DUMMY

Think of a fic idea. Probably you have lots of vague ideas. As I’m trying to turn something from a daydream into an actual writing project, I tend to ask myself these questions:

⭐Who is it about?⭐

Pick your pairing, romantic or otherwise. Think about what you like about the character and what traits you want to emphasise in your writing. If you’re writing about fan character x fan character, what makes them go well together? What causes tension between them?

If you’re writing fan character x original character, do remember that your readers are here for the fan character, not for your OC. There is no getting around this, your OC is not what brings people to the fic. GHD’s Chrysanthe was largely intended as a blank slate, quite literally, I made him an amnesiac because the point of the story was Miraak not Chrysanthe. 

Over time I was able to shape him into something more distinctive (softly-spoken, stoic, paladin-like, secret tricksy side only Miraak brings out, gets more dragon-like as the story progresses) but that was a gradual thing. Your readers will hopefully come to love your OC as you do, but it takes time for them to get invested. I’m very grateful that people did come to root for Chrysanthe – but make no mistake, if the story had no Miraak in it, people wouldn’t be reading it. Your OC is always a vehicle for the fan character.

⭐What are the overarching themes of the story?⭐

A cohesive story has a theme that repeats throughout, and picking one early on will let you write with that theme in mind. As an example, the themes of GHD are:

Soulmates / we were destined to meet each other

There’s no-one else like me / you and I are the only real ones here

One’s a hero one’s a villain

Zero to hero / hero becomes progressively more badass

Redemption arc but the villain is never fully redeemed – for GHD this turned into the repetition of Miraak’s theme he’ll never be pure but for you he’ll try and later Chrysanthe’s I love you exactly as you are

Your own themes might be something like best friends who don’t realise they’ve been in love this whole time or can’t live with you can’t live without you. Tropes count towards this too, so something like soulmates, Modern Coffee Shop AU, hanahaki, all of that stuff is a story theme.

⭐What does this fic do that other fics like it don’t?⭐

GOL HAH DOV was sort of easy mode in this regard because there aren’t many fics featuring Miraak at all, so writing anything was already doing something different. Of those existing fics, I wanted to see more where Miraak was evil and scary, and you should be the change you want to see in the world (of fanfic), so I decided to write it myself. I get a lot of comments on Miraak’s personality, so I assume this is mostly what makes GHD stand out!

I’ll use T4T as a contrasting example, because Skyrim is old and Miraak is niche, but Baldur’s Gate 3 is new/popular and Astarion is a fan favourite. That means there’s a veritable sea of fic about him, so what can you write that will stand out from the many, many other fics out there? It doesn’t have to be the only one of its kind or anything, but it does need to have some special about it.

You’ll want to either go for a strong theme or trope (i.e. soulmates, magical spell curse, we’re both monsters), or change the setting (canon divergence, ‘what if X happened instead?’, or even outright alternate universe and a brand new plot). Personally, I choose to follow the source material but go off-script. I gotta say, nothing makes me sadder than seeing plot and dialogue lifted straight from a game with zero changes made to it. That’s a personal preference obviously, but I think if you write a fic it should strive to do something different to the rest.

⭐Do I have enough enthusiasm to finish it?⭐

This is more applicable to longfic, but you really need to be in love with a story to see it through to the end. Be realistic with yourself, how much free time and energy you have – if you start it, do you think you can finish it?

I have a whole planning process (detailed later) and sometimes I start planning out an idea just to realise I don’t really have the enthusiasm to actually write the whole thing. This is fine! Even just planning is still a writing exercise, and it might spark some different ideas.

Once you have your idea, and you’re confident you’re going to actually write it… then for the love of all that is holy, do not share it in detail with anyone. You can pitch an idea to see if people will be interested but if you go into specifics about story events or certain scenes? You basically get the endorphins from having ‘created’ it, only you haven’t actually created it, and now you’ve had the chemical pay-off you probably never will. Keep your ideas to yourself until you’ve actually written them.

STEP TWO: WRITE THAT DOWN

In terms of writing software, I use Scrivener, which is a paid-for software but is not subscription based (I wouldn’t pay continually for software unless I was reliably writing every day, and sometimes I go ages without being in the mood to write). Scriv’s word processor isn’t the most intuitive thing, but I like its organisation features. This is what a work in progress looks like for me:

That’s essentially a folder (the story) containing a bunch of word documents (the chapters). You could break it down even further and have a chapter folder with each document being individual scenes, then stitch it together later - if writing is a daunting process for you, it’s useful to break it down into small, manageable chunks. You can do this in other software obviously, I just find Scrivener the most visually pleasing.

Set up your writing document, and let’s get to planning what we’re actually going to write!

...Apparently tumblr has a word limit I've exceeded, so I'll write the next bit separately. Here's PART TWO.

[this-acuteneurosis]

I kind of want to get you started on mind tricks. cause like weak minded to strong minded dynamic and the blur away, but also the sith back in the day were for SURE a Caste system of force sensitive rulers and non force sensitives, and the jedi were their ENEMY off and on for thousands of years, cultural bleed through and dynamics of their own power systems but Ben we are not the droids you are looking for go away so I dont have to kill you, versus Qui hey I want this thing trade it for me.

Alright, Oct anon, it's been a while, but I have not forgotten you definitely forgot this ask in my drafts for who even knows how many months but it's found again, whoo!

It's taken me a while to get this together partly to try and arrange my thoughts in a logical order but also...

Guys, I really, really care about the use of agency in stories. Like, I've ranted about it in relation to droids, I've explained some of my problems with it in the context of the thematic changes between the OT and the PT, I stew over it constantly in my brain, it's a central theme of many of my own stories (including DLB).

I really don't like mind control, and not just in Star Wars.

Now, just because I don't like a thing doesn't mean it doesn't have a place in story telling. As a device, mind control/manipulation can be useful or important to a plot. To a theme. Overcoming it can be powerful or cool (Ella Enchanted-I prefer the novel personally, Tanjiro in Demon Slayer: Mugen Train), watching someone succumb to it can be agonizing (Frodo in Return of the King, anyone? Princess Euphemia in Code Geass?).

So, what is the point of Mind Tricks (and that naming choice, "trick," making it sound almost...harmless) in the Star Wars story, and maybe in the universe?

I feel like in its initial reveal, the mind trick was supposed to a) convey how "magical" Jedi were and b) get the plot from point A to B. Obi-Wan waves his hand, someone believes something hideously untrue, move along move along, don't think about it too hard.

Like, literally, audience, please. Don't.

Luke uses it in RotJ for pretty much the same reason. To convery a) Luke is well on his way to being a "magical" Jedi now (oh but wait, there's more character growth he needs!), and b) Luke needs to get into Jabba's palace and why would they let him in? Because he says so, so we will take him to Jabba now. Move along, move along.

I don't like the implications of this power existing, and as an adult who has been in situation where I have to report to higher powers, the disregard of the consequences of these things are a bit darker if I look too closely, but like...move along, I guess. It's fine as long as we're only using these powers on space nazis and slavers. Right?

Except then we get more movies. And cartoons. It's fine if Obi-Wan mind controls a person into not smoking, right? Smoking is Bad and Obi-Wan is Good.

Only.

Only...

Who taught Obi-Wan to use mind tricks?

Ah yes, my old nemesis.

To all you Qui-Gon fans out there, you may wanna leave. This analysis is probably not for you.

So like, Qui-Gon Jinn. Qui-Gon "I'm friends with the current Chancellor and thus an obvious, notable representative of the Jedi Order but I don't get along with my higher ups" Jinn. The thing you have to understand about my opinion of him is that, as a young, first time watcher of TPM, I liked him. He was funny, irreverent, direct. He was wise, or at least seemed to know things no one else did. He was a maverick, ready to go against all orders and advice for what he knew was right. And everyone around him was just stuffy and uninformed.

And to be fair, he wasn't wrong about everything. He's set up to be sympathetic. He's trying to treat with the gungans and they won't listen? Well he and Obi-Wan are right, the Trade Federation does go for the gungans. The Order says there are no Sith? Oops, wrong on that one. The Council makes the ambiguous assertion Anakin is "too old" to train. We've seen the OT. We know "too old" is nonsense.

But like, what does Qui-Gon do when he's thwarted?

He takes away people's agency.

Oh, you don't want to help us, Boss Nass, political leader? Cool, well I'm gonna undermine you in front of your entire court and you're gonna give us a whole ship (that we won't return) to help us defend a people you've been in an active war with for centuries. Oh, my currency doesn't work on this planet? I think it will mister small time junk dealer with a gambling problem (jokes on you for that one, sir).

This to me is a huge red flag in a story that is about literal slaves. I know people will defend the above examples. It was necessary. There were lives at stake.

You wanna know who would have suffered if Qui-Gon had been able to con Watto out of that part?

Anakin and Shmi.

Worthless (or event mostly worthless) currency on a planet where you have to buy water is literal death under the right circumstances. And who do you think Watto's going to reduce rations on. He's got cash flow problems? What's the quickest way for him to make back what he just lost? I'll give you a hint, he gambles on them later in the exact same movie.

So like, well before we get to "weak minded" or anything dubious like that, there's this awkward question of, "Why are the good guys always using powers to make people do things? And not worried about the consequences?"

And like, if we go back to simple story narratives, and trying to move things from point A to point B, that's fine I guess. I enjoy the OT. I'll move along.

But if you ask me to stop and think about it.

Well...

#my soapbox meta #agency #this is without even touching on things like #Anakin accidentally-on purpose?-mind tricking Padmé theories #or like #dubious racial/class implications #teaching this skill to ~~~children~~~ #so many other things

[latibvles]

So Sad, Beautiful, Tragic has turned a year old today — which is absolutely insane to think about for a plethora of reasons. And I tried to think of things to do, before eventually settling on this celebratory inbox game, and a very simple thank you.

Contrary to its title, this story has brought me… great joy, in the past year. I started it at a considerable low point in my life, mentally. It started as an escape — to think about someone so starkly distant from myself, to make mistakes and have them be forgiven. I wanted a story about forgiveness, about friendship, about resilience.

What I got was a very kind community around me and some very lovely friends who pick me up even unknowingly. Which is honestly more than a girl could ask for.

The last longfic I ever wrote was in 2019, and to this day it remains unfinished on its little corner of the internet. Just twelve chapters of unfinished fanfiction. If you told me a year ago that a story that was never supposed to leave my drafts would end up fifty chapters long, with people who comment regularly on it, who share the same enthusiasm for it that I do? I’d call you insane. But here we are. And I’m happy to be here :)

I do want to thank some specific people though, because where would I be without this community?

@softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @liebgotts-lovergirl and @mercurygray : be it once or like five times, whether it’s a deciding pivotal plot detail , beta-reading, or just trying to name a chapter title , I’ve messaged all of you at one point and you’ve lended me your ear to spitball and find the next turn for the story to take. You’re all lovely friends to have, and when I think of the people who’ve helped this story along the way, you’re the first people that come to mind.

@galaxialuz , @mads-weasley , and @the-cinnamontography-is-amazing : my serial rebloggers / commenters , everytime you all comment on the story or reblog I gain ten years of life. Your reactions are some of the ones I look forward to the most. Seriously, eternally grateful to know how much you love the story, and to those of you who may comment on AO3 who’s users I simply don’t have : this is an acknowledgment for you too! Comments and RBs make the world go around and I’m so thankful for all of mine <3

@almost-a-class-act , @cody-helix02 , @wexhappyxfew , @derry-rain , @shoshiwrites , and @we-band-of-brothers : For letting me bang my pot and my pan, senselessly and loudly, about anything and everything that has to do with this fic of mine. I come strolling into messages going “GUYS BUT DAISY!!!!” and to be met with the same enthusiasm is a really lovely thing. Seriously, for someone who’s been told to, ahem, be quiet about their OCs several times, knowing that I have people who will listen whether it’s an AU I had in mind, a chapter I finished, or mindless rambling is such a gift.

And I am thanking you, person reading this post, for making it this far! Whether you’re a passive reader or one commenting on every chapter or just someone who happened upon this particular post, thanks for giving my words the time of day!

All of this to say: thank you for the support, thank you for the community you’ve let me into, thank you for every bookmark, and like, and reblog, and message. thank you to my anonymous pals and known ones alike — thank you for showing this story the support and love that you have. SBT isn’t perfect, but it is mine, and I’m proud of it, and it means the world to know that something I have created and put into the world is very very loved.

#poet’s gallery #. sbt gallery #poe’s pals #. sbt’s one year #band of brothers

[scifimagpie]

Help my friend's amazing WtNV-inspired novel COME TO LIFE!

Okay, so here's the dealio. Aughtpunk tried to blaze this, but Tumblr wasn't having it, and we're not really sure why. One of my dear buddies, @aughtpunk, needs *your* support, Tumblr!

In Amber's own words,

Hello! My name is Amber Freeman (aka AughtPunk, aka A. A. Freeman) and I need assistance in getting my Sci-Fi LGBTQIA+ Romance novel Echo of the Larkspur ready for self publishing. Dr. Ciro Kwakkenbos is the only survivor of The Larkspur Incident, where scientists on a research vessel were slaughtered by sentient robots. After six years of intensive therapy Ciro is ready to return to his job of monitoring Artificial Intelligence in hopes of preventing any more loss of life at the hands of machines. He will be heading the Wireless Project, an attempt to give their main AI a physical, free-roaming body. But when Ciro arrives he realizes this is no ordinary job. The AI in charge of the colony’s security, SAGE (Sentient Automated Geo-sentinel Engineer), is dangerously close to complete sentience. Not only is SAGE more interested in observing the colonists everyday lives and playing a proper soundtrack than following his intended programing, but he has also gained the ability to lie, and could hurt or even kill humans. Knowing such deviance from original programming is what caused The Larkspur Incident, Ciro does everything possible to find a way to protect the humans of the colony. During Ciro’s investigation, he learns three important facts: Someone hacked SAGE’s memories and deleted a deadly secret; SAGE’s rebellious nature endangers the life of every colonist on the base; and Ciro is quickly falling in love with the mystery that is SAGE. Can Ciro unravel the truth behind the missing memories before it’s too late? Will SAGE’s aberrant programming lead to his demise, or is it the beginning of something new? Unless Ciro can uncover the truth, both SAGE and the colony are doomed. My journey with Echo of the Larkspur has been a long one. I wrote the first draft almost ten years ago and over the years I've been editing, rewriting, and honing it until I was proud of what I had created. But try as I may I could never get any agents or publishers interested in my work. I even had a traditionally published author tell me that the only way to make it publishable was to take out the queer romance to make it "less weird". Well I've decided the best thing to do is to self publish it myself than to change what makes the novel special for a mass audience. However, I want the novel to be in the best shape it can be before I go down the self publishing route. This means hiring a professional editor, hiring an artist for the cover, and hiring someone for the cover's lettering. My posted goal of $600 will be enough to cover all of those things, plus anything extra/left over will be spent on advertisement for the novel in an attempt to reach a broader audience. Echo of the Larkspur would never have gotten this far without the support of my friends, family, and fans. With your help I'll be able to finally get my novel out into the world into the hands of those who have waited so long. Every donation helps, and so does sharing this page! Thank you, Amber

I myself am the editor tapped to work on this; I'm giving them a discount to help with the publishing process.

Friends, this is a book I believe in. I've read older versions (though it's been a few years) and I know this book is ready. This is the time for this book. It's radically inclusive, and features meditations and musings on robotics and cognition that are very sophisticated. All in a body-positive queer romance with robots.

So, if you're a fan of their Overwatch work, Points on a Circle, check out some of their original works and fanfic here!

Donate Here!

#fundraiser #larkspur #aughtpunk #sci fi #robot #romance #sfr #science fiction romance #queer #lgbtq #writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #lgbtqplus

[gertritude-art]

Progress Report!

As promised, here is another progress report for DemonVN - or, as it will officially be known, Demon Detangled: Horror at the Homecoming Dance (subtitle pending).  You can view the first (rough) six minutes of it up there.  There’s still quite a bit to edit about it, as I’m sure you can tell, and a lot of it is stuff I have already shown, but for once, it’s all up there together.

Anyway, let’s get started!

FIRST...:

DemonVN has an about page on this blog, now.  You can read it here!

MENUS:

The title screen is officially done!  You can see what it looks like up above.  And, yes, the official name is Demon Detangled!  I’ve had the name in mind for months, but was waiting to officially say it in case I wanted to change it (spoilers: I could not think of a better one). The subtitle is still in need a rework, but I’m including one on the off chance that I gather enough willpower to turn this into a series, rather than just a single game.  Gotta make ‘em distinct, somehow...

I still need to customize all the other menus, but I already have drafts of how they should look in the works!  They should be done in the next few weeks.

SPRITES:

Lillie now has a new sprite, as does Catherine!  It is only looking at them now that I realize just how inhuman Lillie looks.  Hm.  Perhaps this is a deep metaphor for how, really, humans are no different than demons... or that she just needs to get out of the church more often.

Anyway, the rest of the cast is also in the progress of being edited a bit, but I don't have anything official to show for them... Please imagine them in your minds.

POINT AND CLICK ASPECTS:

As I have mentioned, DemonVN does have point and click aspects, so as to excite and challenge the average three-year-old who may want to play.  I spent a lot of the past week or so trying to iron out some of those aspects.  Did you know that at one point, you’ll be able to select multiple items to use on someone?  Check this out:

Aside from that, I’ve been slowly fixing and figuring out all the other item interactions in the game!  I almost got that done in time for this update, but I think it’ll take me another few days to get the base of all those implemented.  There have been a lot of if/else statements at play...

THE WRITING:

I’ve been jumping back and forth quite a bit with the writing of this game, but I have made some progress!  The introduction is still getting written (it remains my white whale), but all the interactions you can have with your classmates are close to finished.  That is something I did not realize I had actually done until I wrote it just now - it feels like I’ve been writing them for forever!  Here’s a fun interaction to show you:

Aside from that, a lot of my writing energy has been spent sitting and figuring out how the ending is going to go.  There is a specific, very important emotional section of it (SPOILERS: MORDRED EXPERIENCES AN EMOTION) that I’ve been trying to figure out the tone of for over a year, and I think I finally understand how it needs to be written without it coming across as overwrought or undeserved.  I wish I could show off what I’ve written of it so far, but... it will be good :^) 

THE ART:

Didn’t do much in the art department, recently, but I do have a lot of placeholder assets in place!  Shout out to this funky guy:

I have a really cool CG I drew a few months back that I had to reluctantly cut, and so I could show you that... but I’m not going to #cruelty #hatred

IS THE END IN SIGHT?

Not yet!  Check back next month for another report on how it’s going, though!  I should have some more answers by then.  Hopefully.  

WHY DID YOU WORK ON YOUR TITLE SCREEN SO HARD BEFORE YOU FINISHED THE GAME.  I WAS SO EXCITED THINKING YOU WERE DONE.  EXPLAIN.

1) I needed to do something for the game one day, and I didn’t feel like doing anything else.  2) Doing this helped me learn that buttons can perform multiple functions, which!  I had no idea was possible!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Thank you for telling me, Ren’Py!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, that’s all for now.  See you next month with another progress report! :D

#my ocs #demonvn #wip #HI. here's a big ol progress update. #enjoy!!!! #THIS TIME I REALIZED I CAN USE GIFS #also please forgive any typos. my eyes are blurry today

[rskruzchka]

bound to meet, never to touch

la signora x gn! liyue! reader

sypnosis: signora departs for inazuma the next day, and you try to make her last night in liyue one to remember

note: this is the first time i’ve written in literal years but the concept of signora being aware of whats awaiting her in inazuma has been lingering on the brain. there was a draft where they kiss but i feel this is more fitting <3

When you initially told Signora that the place you wanted to take her was the highest peak in Liyue, she spun on her heel and strode away. Perhaps when you first met the diplomat you would have felt offense at her tendency to brush you off. However, several months later you merely laugh and jog up to her side.

Signora would never admit it out loud but as she stands with you atop Qingyun Peak, she is glad that she gave in.

Your sleeves flutter in the wind as you sweep your arm in an arc with a flourish. “This is it, Lady Signora. The highest peak in the region.” You lean slightly towards her and grin. “Any thoughts?”

Signora shakes her head with a light scoff at your dramatics. “Fine, I suppose it’s not a bad view at all.” As she takes a deep breath in, she tries to commit this last night in Liyue to memory. She takes note of every last spire of stone, every cluster of green, and barely lets herself blink lest she remember her death sentence sent from her Tsaritsa yet again.

Her purpose has been fulfilled — Her Majesty has deemed it so. Still, when she looks to her side, at the one who sees Rosalyne rather than La Signora… she doesn’t feel like she wants to leave.

“Lady Signora, if you look closely you might see Liyue Harbor,” You point at a distant speck glimmering gently with light that someones eyes would pass over if they weren't of Liyue. On the other hand, your finger finds the city like a compass, naturally grativitating towards home.

Signora arches an eyebrow. “You are aware my affiliations with Morax are over and yet you still use that title. Drop the formalities and call me by my name.”

Eyes shining impishly, you turn your attention from the landscape to Signora. “May I ask why, my Lady?”

Signora scoffs, and the corner of her painted lip quirks up. “I am no longer your ‘Lady.’ I have no further business here. Besides, are you aware that La Signora means The Lady as well?”

You pause. This is the first time this has occurred to you in the months you've known Signora. Your cheeks are dusted with pink as you clear your throat. “Alright, Signora then. You let me call you that all this time!”

Signora can't remember the last time she laughed. Yet your outburst makes her chuckle, her shoulders shaking as she laughs at your flustered expression.

When she raises her gloved hand up to her mouth and her lips for once aren't in a scowl and her eyes are curved into half moons, you forget to pretend to be mad. Even when laughing, she is poised and the epitome of grace. She looks... different. You wish you could make her laugh even more, but she leaves for Inazuma the next day.

Signora barely ever lowers her chin when she’s conversing. It makes her seem like she is looking down on you, as if she’s speaking to you only because she took some precious time out of her day to do so. Yet when her laughter putters out, Signora looks you straight in the eye. "How could I, when you enjoyed calling me your Lady so much?”

You roll your eyes with a bittersweet smile. "It will be strange not saying that anymore. I think I'll miss you, Signora."

Signora's hand — just for a moment— reaches out for you. She wants to hold you, to show you that she'll miss you as well. For a moment she rejects her principles, the Tsaritsa’s kindness, just to feel your touch. To feel the heat of your skin burning under her fingers.

But she knows. She remembers.

She snuffs out the flame as fast as it had burst into life, just as she always has.

Signora's voice is so cold it almost stings. “Don’t you dare forget me.” Please.

You shake your head and tear your eyes from her face, aching to close the distance between your bodies. "Of course not."

As if I could ever forget you.

#la signora #signora x reader #la signora x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[the-forgotten-jack]

*insert creative title here*

(short little story thing, might turn it into something of substance at some point.)

It was the first time in what must have been centuries I'd recieved a burnt offering. I rushed to pick it up, wondering what it was. It was a thick packet of paper, the first page having bold writing on the front like the title of a book on the cover. I understood immediately. It was an author's first printed draft! I'll admit I squeaked a little. I ran to my chambers and opened it quickly.

I don't know how long I was in there, but it was long enough for one of the other gods to decide to check on me. I'd read the story twice already by the time he came in. I didn't notice him until he was standing right over me and cleared his throat.

"What are you reading?" His voice held a note of irritation, probably because I'd been missing the entire day over a book.

"Someone sent a burnt offering! It's amazing, they write so well!" I couldn't help immediately complimenting the writing. It truly was amazing.

He shrugged in disintered, and I scowled at him. He rolled his eyes and vanished.

Later, I heard someone speaking. I shrugged it off, thinking some of the others were just having a conversation nearby, but soon, I realized it was a mortal, praying. I grinned to myself and responded quickly, interrupting them.

"Are you the one who sent the book?" I couldn't help my excited tone.

"I- um... yes, that's me." They seemed nervous.

"I loved it! You're an amazing writer!"

They must have sensed how genuine I was, because their nervousness almost completely disappeared.

"Thank you! I'm really proud of it, I think it's almost ready to be published."

I smiled and silently sent a blessing their way. They wouldn't get turned away by any publisher, not on my watch!

———————————————————————

It had been a few more years. I'd heard their voice a few more times, thanking me again and again for what I'd done for them, but no more burnt offerings. Until one showed up out of the blue.

This time, it was an already published, hardcover copy of the second book! On the inside cover, there was a note that read, "for my goddess. Thank you for getting me this far."

I couldn't believe it. I repeated what I'd done for their first book, not leaving my chamber at all until I'd read the whole book twice.

———————————————————————

Things went on like this for a long time. They wrote many books, many different series, and I loved them all. One night, though, changed everything.

"Thank you for everything, my goddess. But now, I find the end of my own story is approaching, and I'm afraid I may not be able to proceed in providing new stories for you any longer."

I had, of course, known this was coming. They were only mortal, after all. But I didn't want to accept it. My friend, my mortal, was dying. Who else would burn offerings for me, provide the best stories I'd read in centuries, remind me why my existence continued? No. This, I would not allow. In the hearts of all who read it, a story has no true end. This one, I would never allow to come to a close.

"Mortal." My voice cracked slightly.

"My goddess." They were calm.

"Your story does not deserve to be cut so short as this. Would you like to join me, up in the stars?"

They hesitated. "... yes. I think so."

———————————————————————

Nothing was quite so beautiful as my simple wooden home up in the clouds, with it's high ceiling and simple but elegant architecture, and of course, the author turned deity beside me.

"Welcome home, Author."

"Thank you for having me, Goddess."

And we held each other close as I brought them to the section of my library dedicated to them.

#a god's bullshit

[ivegennedmylastloss]

hidey hodey neighborinoes i know i may or may not have disappeared for like half a fucking year but brain does what brain do. since i am now willing to admit that i likely will not find the motivation to write a full length fic like i would want, i wanted to post the “outline” (re: complete gibberish only past me could understand). at some point i’ll try to compile all the tidbits i had sprinkled across drafts and docs and try to clean it up a little but, well, im not even sure what i meant in some spots. hopefully ill pull the writers block out of my ass one day but until then, take this word vomit:

(for clarifications sake, r= red/ranboo, g= green/charlie, b= blue/sneeg, h= hetch, sfm= showfall media)

retelling of ep three from hetch’s pov. mask broke sfm doesn’t know. reset after stab still aware of what he’s doing but can’t control himself. hopeful ending with planning to save the trio and get them out?

the closet sfm is onto hetch so he has to do damage control ran receiving no instructions. things settle scenes been dragging he panics and basically controls r to kill ethan

maybe broadcasted to a different universe. problem w family and friends recognize

maybe broadcasted to rich assholes like in the purge/gladiator type deal?

the face of the hacker wasn’t actually supposed to do things but did anyways

follow up w/ rgb saving him g and b reluctant. r insist they won’t let anyone else die because of them. idk burn the mall maybe torch it like a fuckin wasp nest

employees stop at the door mannequins little nightmares two.

all four struggling down the road maybe r passing out carried by g or b

hot wire a car

traumatize gas station clerk

fire department from fire alarm

hetch flag down car 2 options:

car sped off but called police for them

offered ride to hospital

hetch the sidewalk isn’t wide enough fourth wheel type deal mostly unscathed compared to rgb but smol bean has anxiety and left over programming. weak little noodle arms can’t help shit. b sending hella death glares

b wouldn’t want to help hetch

r electrocuted from attempted mask removal

through the power of friendship and laws of physics or electrical plasma whatever it isn’t fatal hoorah

hetch stunned doesn’t help gb fuckin pissed at him

paramedics confused about what happened to these very dedicated cosplayers that are found half dead barely hours after the live finale

r wakes and is terrified thinking they’re at the box and start screaming for gb. hetch freezes g n b have to be held back by police

hospital r coma from noggin surgery (medically induced for healing cause wtf) g and b want to kick hetch’s ass only stop cause of r

prob not ccs maybe r foster kid hinted maybe

b needs to get to punch someone. american healthcare so probably a doctor or a nurse

hetch medically released first<irrelevant travel distance. hetch watching charlie and sneeg have friends and family going in and out but r has no on so hetch goes

others not allowed in camp out in waiting room. ran wakes up and freaks. competent doc allows them in and r calms down. good doc fights for them to be able to stay in the room psych health. special accommodations are made no tv in room gets a double room for more beds/couches <<needs special room post brain surgery op icu maybe nurse/doc maneuverability <<< maybe one allowed in at a time

^the nice doctor thrown in for pity maybe philza if crossover? detective techno? or both detectives that almost beat the shit outta the responding cops for fucking up the most important case they’d ever get

sfm sends an employee pretending to be ranboos mom. the others are scared but also she is acting like a mom that lost her kid so maybe it’s okay??<< others not allowed in the room since family only? nope ran wakes up freaks cause that bitch ain’t momboo (dead question mark? orphan? don’t tell techno)

employee tries to strangle r no loose ends: doc pulls her off; trio breaks in hetch proves himself?; r is a bamf and defends themself (hitting? reverse uno they strangle her? rips out iv and stabs her?< needle to weak would have to be in eye)

r scared to sleep from cabin electrocution and execution hold hand 👉👈?

carousel saved NO FIRE IF CAROUSEL perhaps a group meet for victims ranboo and hetch reluctant to enter cause they think they’re their murderers. eef spots r and runs to hug him others follow positive to r wary to hetch b says hetch is the one responsible for saving all of them bada bing bada boom happy ending

#generation loss #genloss #gen loss #generation loss ranboo #ranboo #yell at me if i need to remove some tags im still a newbie #this draft has been sitting on my conscience like a tungsten cube and i just wanted to get it out #hello person sorting by new scrolling through the tags i hope you have a good day

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

No Hellsing because I sadly don't know her but Nikolina + 9 for the 50 tropes thing? ✨

9. There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling

AFDHFFHJD so… answering this nearly a full year later. I had this like 90% done in my drafts for ages and forgot to actually post it. I only remembered because I was scrolling through my inbox for any fun prompts I might do and saw the ask.

Anyway, ambiguously set at some point during R&R after the gang escape the white cathedral and meet up with Nikolai again. Let’s pretend Nikolina got separated from the rest somehow lmao

Featuring a Darkling tether cameo bc I am who I am as a person, I guess!

***

Alina didn’t mind sharing a room— it was more cost efficient, and likely safer if they had to leave in a hurry. Sharing a bed was a little more uncomfortable though.

“I think the innkeeper may have misunderstood,” Nikolai said slowly.

“It’s fine,” she grumbled, too exhausted to care very much. She sank heavily onto the one bed, unraveling the shawl around her neck that hid the collar. “It’s only one night.”

“I could try to get another room?”

She shook her head. That would just draw more attention to them, the last thing they needed was to be memorable.

They had been mostly camping out in the woods at night, trying to steer clear of populated areas as best they could. They wouldn’t have been staying at the inn at all if Sturmhond didn’t have contacts they were intending to meet in the morning. Contacts that might even help lead them to the rest of the group. Alina hoped they were safe.

Nikolai sat down beside her. “I’ll have you know, I snore horribly.”

“Wonderful.”

He gave the bed an exaggerated pat. “It doesn’t seem like a very good bed, to be honest. I don’t think it even has fleas. I could just take the floor.”

She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s no use if you’re stiff as a board in the morning. What if you have to run away because you bad mouthed someone?”

“That would be unfortunate.”

“You just stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.” And truthfully she was too exhausted to care much about propriety at the moment. And sleeping on an actual bed was a very enticing prospect. She suspected Nikolai was probably feeling the same way.

“I can’t wait to tell Oretsev you insisted on sharing a bed.”

She turned to glare at him. “I could still change my mind. No gloating.”

He held up his hands placatingly, but his grin didn’t slip. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave that part out of the tales of our daring exploits.”

“I just hope we’ll get a chance to recount tales at all,” she replied.

And that was that for the moment. They busied themselves the rest of the evening taking the opportunity to replenish their supplies, and prepare for the travel yet ahead of them. It was a careful thing, they both had recognizable faces. And the last thing they wanted was to be caught before the rendezvous in the morning.

Alina took her turn washing while Nikolai ventured out again to get food.

She’d quickly dressed again and was brushing out her wet hair when she heard it, smooth as silk, almost a whisper. “Where are you, Alina?”

Somehow, she didn’t jump. Though she felt the Darkling’s cool gaze on her. Though her stomach twisted with sudden dread. “I think telling you defeats the point of being in hiding.”

“Why run, Alina? You know I’ll find you eventually. The longer you take the less inclined I am to show you mercy.”

“I’ve seen what you call mercy. I don’t want it,” she bit out, just as the door opened.

“Suit yourself,” he replied, calmly, and with that the apparition dispersed.

Nikolai walked in some time later, carrying a tray of food from the kitchen downstairs. Slim pickings, but that had been the case for awhile now, with the drawn out civil war. And frankly she didn’t have much of an appetite after the Darkling’s brief visit. But she forced herself to choke down what she could.

To his credit, Nikolai seemed to sense that her mood had turned since earlier, if not the reason why, and so he didn’t make many attempts at conversation. She was grateful for it.

Then there was the business of sleeping. It was less awkward than she was expecting. She told herself she was too exhausted and in her own head to care very much.

So she extinguished the lamp, and lay down on her own side of the bed, carefully turned away while Nikolai changed. It was likely testament to his own weariness that he hadn’t made any quips or half hearted attempts to flirt with her.

She listened to the rustle of clothes and then the soft footfalls as he approached. The listing of the mattress. Despite everything she was very aware of how close he was, even when carefully keeping to his own side. The already cramped room just seemed smaller in the dark.

“This is preferable to sleeping on the floor,” he admitted, finally.

“Much easier on your delicate, princely sensibilities, right?” she replied without turning around. She was almost a little afraid to.

He only laughed.

Still, it didn’t take very long for Alina to fall asleep.

She woke some time before dawn, disoriented. Not quite sure where she was or how, except that it was more comfortable than she was used to.

Her memory caught up to her about a minute later. And the realization that she was very much not on her own side of the bed. Just who she was clinging to, and whose shoulder she’d buried her face in. From the steady rise and fall of his breath, Nikolai appeared to still be asleep. Fortunate, he’d never let her live this down.

Gingerly, she tried to disentangle herself without disturbing him. With any luck, they simply wouldn’t talk about this in the morning.

Send me a ship and a prompt for a mini fic!

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #nikolina #alina starkov #nikolai lantsov #long post #sorrry I still don’t know how to do a read more on mobile #a string of words #i ramble sometimes #all the bendy punctuations #ship ask game #ask games

[bera-post-things]

Yandere soft Ganyu X Reader who works under the the Qixing

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Art Credit: Art print by Chiro

A/N: I came up with this idea like a while ago that I just found I. One of my drafts and I decided to finish it so here it is it was from a while ago so it might be bad

A/N: I’m keeping this up mostly for my enjoyment

Published: September,13,2022 Edited:September:14,2022(slight)

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Prompt: Ganyu has been stalking you for weeks now ever since yiu came to Liyue to find a new job and somewhere to settle down in liyue she’s been somewhat strangely obsessed with you and she’s just oh so to nervous to confront you about making her feel like this she can’t just stop the embarrassment from creeping up her face and in fear of embarrassing herself even more so she’s been taking to a more subtle way of showing her affection by leaving bentos and Qinyin flower on your desk every day and a small inspirational quote to brighten up your day! Isn’t that nice? Well apparently it cause it just ruins your morning and your day finding a weird note on your desk every morning It was a normal day at the office yiu where working at your office it was lunch time you went into the streets of Liyue harbor looking to grab a snack to eat before having to deal with stacks of Contracts and paper yiu went off to get a small snack but when yiu came back you found a bento filled with Liyue delicacies and a Qinxin flower? and some blue hair

A/N: once again Sorry if my writting is bad

It was in the morning in Liyue harbor you could hear the streets buzzing down blow the poeple talking the advertising to join the adventure guild and shops and the delicious smell of food as yiu walked pass the many stalls of people currently on your way to work walking past the many parents and people walking down the busy streets of Liyue harbor the children with there mothers, fathers smiling carrying candy and smiling made you smile too(I know there’s not to much people in Liyue harbor cause yiu know the game would LAG if there was like hundreds of people just standing there) you could even spot your fellow coworkers buying there breakfast for the morning, as you continued walking towards your work place thinking that this would be a good day not noticing the bright purple eyes looking at yiu from the corner it was Manager Ganyu now why is she doing there standing around a corner suspiciously you may ask? Good question! Why is she doing there well she’s making sure your going to work of course isn’t taht what a proper supervisor is supposed to do right? Ok ok you caught me, Ganyu was currently watching you from a far holding a letter in her hands taht woukd hold her confession towards you but she’s just to embarrassed to even try to walk up to you and tap on your should to even give you the letter(poor Ganyu she’s so Anti social and embarrassed) as she sighed she just walked off carrying the latter in her hands with a heart in the front as many young people looked at the Hald Adeptus in hope of thinking taht the lucky person was them(in your dreams).

Only leaving Ganyu to just walk away in thought as she almost bumped into a stall almost knocking the stall over as she apologized to the shops owners and continuing walkingshe looked behind her looking at your figure walking slowly into the distance while talking to one of your co workers and helping a child find their parents how perfect you where, you where just so perfect in every way that she couldn’t even dream of getting onto your level of perfectness,” she thought sighing to herself oh how did she look up to you so much as much as you looked up to Ganyu as yiur super visor and protector you did not know how much more She did look up to you more she at one point thought that you where a divine being that walked the land amoung the humans and treated them with kindness and treated them with equalness and fairness even in her thousands of years of living she’s never seen someone so perfect ever, your just that much to her she would even say your much more deserving of the Adeptus title than her, you would of course decline that but she would just say you where always noble like that’s but that just made her like you even more…as she got to her house she got to making your bento when she got to her house as she made the bento for you she made sure to put in your favorite foot and some Liyue delicacies such as Tianhashu Meat and some Jade parcels and some fried shrimp paired with some rice as she hummed too herself wrapping up the bento and carrying it over to the office… when she would arrive at your office she would, see you there taking care of stacks of papa per work that Keqing laid on your desk earlier as you sighed as Ganyu frowned at this she didn’t like seeing you sad she would definitely have to talk to Keqing about this after this she decided as she watched you leave for your daily lunch break as she hid behind a wall watching you leave she carefully went into your office and moved out the paper work out of the way and laid the small neatly tied up bento on your desk and taking all of the paper work in her hands “you don’t have to worry about this anymore! I’ll take care of this don’t worry Y/N you’ll be so grateful to me after I do this! I just know it!” She thought to herself as she left the office.

You would come back confused at where did all the important paper work go and you panicked you would be in so much trouble all the paper work was on the personal affairs of the Qixing and the stock economy of Liyue harboryou would surely be yelled at for sure you thought as you paled before notcing the neatly wrapped bento on your desk as yiu opened it yiu where shocked at how exspensive it looked the pearly back marble design on the box and the blue ribbon that felt like expensive silk itself yiu thought as you ran you fingers along the silk, you didn’t even want to open it due to how exspensive it looked you felt like you where unworthy of it surely this must’ve been for Lady Keqing and accidently given to you?” You thought but due to your growing personality you unwrapped the box and opened the box what first hit yiu was the aroma from the food who ever cooked this must’ve been a master at there was egg fried rice in one box and there was juicy tender meat in the next and some jade parcels this truly dosent feel like it’s for you… after taht display you looked to the side seeing a sticky note on your desk and it said…

“Y/N This Bento is for you and I hope you enjoy it I couldn’t deliver it myself since I have important matters to attended you and I toke all your paperwork just don’t worry about it! but I hope you enjoy your meal!”

The note contained a QingXin flower laying by it oh so it’s was Ganyu who delivered this? You thought you saw a flash of blue hair enter your vision in the office earlier when you walked in you oh how nice of her you never thought she could cook so well! You thought but you felt kinda bad taking care of her kindness like this leaving all your work on her even though she’s the one who willingly toke it you thought, as you started eating the food that Ganyu made you as you where eating tehre was Ganyu in the corner looking at you from afar seeing you eating her food made her so happy! And glad taht you accepted her food it was like getting a stuck up dog to eat the treat that you gave them it made her heart flutter as she smiled as she toke out a Kamera and toke a picture of you smiling and eating the bento that’s she made you “she would surely treasure this forever!” She thought as she walked off. When you finished eating you wanted to go find go find Ganyu and properly thank her for the food say thinking of it you haven’t talked to your superior in a while the last time yiu ever made contact with her was last month when there was an emergency you thought as you stepped onto the streets of liyue harbor looking to find Ganyu and thank her as you set out on your mission to find Ganyu she would be off under a tree on one of her breaks taht she would take ever 2 months or so to take a break away from her work and to just relax but this time it was a little bit different she was sitting there on the grass in the fields of Liyue away from the bustling streets of Liyue harbor instead in Guili Plains relaxing looking over the many pictures of you taken on her kamera as she smiled at all of them… you would surely head to Guili Plains hearing from the locals that they saw her heading over there as you walked over the bridge through the path eventually spotting Ganyu under a tree you walked over to her “Hey! Ganyu what are you doing here?” You asked her while looking around “oh Y/N I’m just taking my 2 month break you want to join me?” She spoke in a soft tone hiding the photos and Kamera to the side but you saw “oh what’s that you got there Ganyu?” You asked Her as she shuffled “oh nothing Y/N don’t mind it just sit down” and we can talk we haven’t talked in a while” she said as she patted the spot next to her as you sat down next to her deciding to listen to her despite your curiosity on what was on that Kamera but you decided to put that thought aside after all you two ahvent talked in a while…

Time Skip brought to you by Chibi Ganyu munching in a QingXin flower

When Ganyu went to excuse herself to go where she said “she had somethings to attended to” she said but she didn’t take her Kamera with her yiu tried to control yourself but you couldn’t control yourself sn you went to grab the Kamera and looked at the pictures there you saw… you paused your eyes widening what… why are there random pictures of you soem of them where of you in your office working it looks like they where just token this morning in a Building that’s right across your window and some where of you just walking it looks like the picture was token from behind you your eyes eyes winded down in horror as the camera was Garbbed out of your hands by a strong force as you looked at the person who grabbed the camera it was Ganyu… she looked down at you with crying eyes “di-did you see?” She said her voice shaking as yiu just stared at her to shocked to even do anything as Ganyu stared to fall down on her knees crying to herself apologizing profusely to you “I’m sorryY/N I’m so sorry!” I know that you think I’m weird she said as you stood up walking away as Ganyu looks back up seeing you walk away then something in her just snaps all her cool just snapped she’s here apologizing and yiu just walked away!? No no no no! She chanted as she ran at you and knocked you out sorry but I can’t just have you leaving me you’ve become the Light of my day and I just can’t let you go away and leave me thinking that you hate me I will do what I ever can to make sure that you don’t hate me so please stay with me…Not that you had a choice.

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #yandere #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere ganyu #genshin impact ganyu #Ganyu #ganyu my beloved

[philliamwrites]

SWYAATL 14: The Happy Years

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x fem! Reader

Warnings: they're all horknee

Summary: “May Queen!” the girl shrieks, and throws a bright flower crown with frightening precision on your head. She then points at you. “We’ve found our May Queen!” Oh. Oh no. “Oh no no no no no,” you say out loud the moment someone swoops you up your feet. Nausea rolls through you—you hate hate being picked up, hate how it makes you feel like the small kid from five years ago during Shiganshina’s attack—before you start hyperventilating, you glimpse Jean in the crowd, doubled over and supporting himself against Marco, laughing at you so hard he almost topples over. Bastard.

Notes: [01] || 13 | 15

Words: 9.5k

A/N: Sorry updates are so scarce! Everything is changing for me with the apprenticeship but it’s a good change and I’m very, very happy where I am right now!! Might go into hiatus for a while because writing just isn’t doing it for me at the moment though. I’ll definitely bring Cadet Corps Arc to an end though, it’s only one or two more chapters after this one!

Don’t flock me, but this might slip a little into Reader/Jean (with Eren/Reader endgame, I promise). Also I’ve decided from this chapter on they’re all finally 18, you’re welcome. They’re all gay, they’re all horny, whoopa.

14: The Happy Years

January, February, March. The winter is a torrent of snow. Falling slow and fat. Falling quick and bright. The sun, if it rises at all, is a weak white flame until spring marches into the battle with all her blossoms and light, banishing the cold for another year.

This time, you were put into farm duty, something you’ve been looking forward to ever since the ground, formerly brownish or covered with snow, is now painted in greener tones. It beats having to prune trees or vines since you’ve always enjoyed working with soil and what the earth grants. There is also the benefit of seeing Dolly again, the only compound ox used to draft the ridge and furrows where you’ll plant this year’s harvest. Apparently, cadets long before your corps named him, realising too late that he was a male—as though the pointy horns are easy to miss—but the name has stuck ever since.

You’re leading the old boy over the field now, towards the other handful of cadets assigned to the duty. Reiner and Marco are tinkering with the bullock cart, checking if, after the long winter, anything has broken and needs to be fixed. Annie, standing a little apart from them, gazes out at the field. She looks as though she could think of a hundred different places she’d rather be. You can get a little behind her indifference. Many consider this task as a waste of time, for every compound receives the majority of vegetables, fruits, fish and dairy from outside farms and fisheries. The annual harvest you yield around autumn is only meant for reserves and emergencies should the usual deliveries not make it on time—which hasn’t happened in the almost three years you’ve been in the military.

You don’t mind the work at all—it is a nice diversity from the tasks you usually get, and you enjoy working outside in nature, where the air is fresh and the last hint of winter still lingers in the air.

“We’re ready,” Marco says now, rising from where he was perching in front of the cart. Already, his pants are dirty where he has knelt in the soil. “All good to go.”

“You two lead the old boy, Annie and I will be right behind you.” Reiner shakes his small basket with cauliflower seeds as you put the cart before Dolly and give his nose a good rub. He flicks his ears and trots after you across the field, occasionally bumping his snoot against your arm as if saying Look, I’m doing it! What about a little treat?,and of course you scratch him under his chin until his eyes fall close for a second in sheer contentment.

“He’s very enamoured with you,” Marco says, watching you two from the side. Even though it’s still cool outside, he’s rolled up his sleeves, showing his strong arms streaked with hard cords of muscle. Recently, his harness seems to be a size too small, cutting into his body parts that were extra thick with muscle such as his arms, thighs and upper chest. Not that you’re complaining about the sight. “Are you hiding treats or something in your uniform?”

“It’s my natural charm,” you say, grinning. “I don’t have to use cheap tricks like that.”

Marco laughs at that, and you notice how he doesn’t disagree. You continue down the field in companionable silence, only making comments whenever one of you spots a falcon gliding over the fields in search of mice. It feels like the build-up to something, but what exactly, you don’t know until finally, Marco says, “Only two more months left now. Those three years passed so quickly, I can hardly believe we’re almost done with our training.”

“Why are you in such low spirits then?” you ask. “What happened to all that enthusiasm of being able to serve the king once you join the MP?”

Marco’s silence makes you look over at him. There’s something wistful about the way he looks out at the fields—his mind seems to be as far away as the rising and sinking curves of the mountains in the far south.

“It’s weird, I know,” he finally says, scratching his chin where you see a dark stubble. “I also thought this was something I’m sure of. Graduate with a good score, join the MP and work my way up into the King’s Guard. But lately…” He gives a half-hearted shrug. “I had this weird dream, you know? There was a parade and the King was there as well but something wasn’t right. There were orphans crying and people seemed distressed. In my dream, I heard rumours about the true nature of the Operation to Reclaim Wall Maria a few years ago, and when I woke up, I realised this must have been because I talked to Armin and Eren recently. Armin told me that there was a parade back then as well, after his grandfather died, to distract from the disputes on food; to have the people be lenient towards the King’s sentence. And weirdly enough, I started to wonder … do I really want to protect the King, or is there maybe something else I should be protecting.”

Marco looks at you now, and there’s something bare in his eyes that makes you turn your head away. All you manage to answer is, “Jean will be very sad if you change your mind last second, you know? You’ve become one of his closest friends and …”

“And what?” Marco inquirers—part hopeful, part reserved.

And I know there’s more, but you’re afraid of it. One afternoon on a rare hour’s break in the barracks, you went over to the boys’ to get Marco for laundry duty, who had slipped inside just a moment ago. Standing in the entryway, you found him and Jean alone. Jean was sitting with his back turned to the entry and Marco used that moment to leap upon him in a fit of enthusiasm, screeching and squawking like a child at play. Jean wrestled Marco off him and they rolled around on the floor, grabbing and jostling, laughing at nothing. When Marco had Jean in a clinch, pinned to the floor, his knees on either side of Jean’s torso, he looked down at him and smiled, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

Even from that distance, you were sure that he had looked at Jean’s lips for a moment, turning his head a little and staring at him, his body arching forward just a touch. Jean raised his knee slightly and risked a smile. They looked at each other—“Ah, Jean,” Marco said mournfully, his voice soft—and then their heads both swivelled around at the sound of creaking wood beneath your feet as you shifted your weight to make a silent retreat, positive that you had walked into a private scene not meant for anyone to see.

Marco jumped up, turning away from Jean. He looked at you, startled, unable to catch Jean’s eye. After a moment of silence, Jean, to lighten the mood, had simply asked if you had lost something, and when the moment was over, everything had returned as if nothing had happened between them.

“And nothing,” you say now. Whatever is between Jean and Marco, it is none of your business. You don’t think Jean would appreciate you poking your nose into his business—especially one that seemed a foreign territory to even himself. Ever since the incident with the wolf last winter, he’s become curt—sometimes even downright nasty whenever Eren is around or you so much as mention him. The only reason you can think of is that with graduation drawing closer, they’re both reminded how opposing their future wishes are, and suddenly nothing of what has happened before—standing together against Victor; fighting the robbers and saving Christa—seems to matter.

“Yeah, I still need to talk to him about that,” Marco says, cutting off your thoughts. “If he’ll join the Scouts.”

“The Scouts?” You almost trip over a mound of dirt, saving yourself only by flinging your arms around Dolly’s strong neck. He snorts appreciatively. “Why the Scouts?”

“You know … the way Jean is, I feel that if he joined the Survey Corps … he could save a lot of lives.”

You give that some thought, and initially, nothing about it seems wrong. Jean is an exceptional soldier, both capable in ODM and analysing the situation in battle to find the best outcome. Funny enough, Jean’s talent seems specifically the reason why Eren keeps blowing the fuse whenever they talk about their future goals—Eren can’t seem to understand why anyone would waste their talent like that. You’ve stopped bringing that up with him. It seems easier to get along with him if you two don’t try to bust each other’s heads about which Corps to join after graduation.

With the field ploughed, the seed sown, you take a little break. The sun stands high on the zenith, and the work has left you sweating. Dolly, freed from the cart, lies on the ground. His tail flicks at flies in lazy swipes, and whenever someone bends down to pet him, he closes his eyes in cosy satisfaction.

“Did I hear that right, you’re thinking about joining the Scouts, Marco?” says Reiner now. He’s perched beside Dolly, and gives his back soft claps. You have a hard time not staring at his thick thighs. “How come?”

Marco, leaning sideways against the fence enclosing the fields, shrugs with one shoulder. “Feels like I might be able to do more if I join them.”

“The Scouts will be happy with a guy like you,” Reiner continues. “You’re a great soldier, Marco.”

Marco ducks his head as if he can hide the red tinting his cheeks. “What about you guys?” he quickly asks. “You’re both at the top as well.” Reiner throws Annie a quick glance which she promptly ignores.

“It’s gonna be the MP for me.” Reiner isn’t shy about his decision, giving Marco a crooked grin. “I’m pretty sure that’s where I can do my best as a soldier.”

A snort comes from Annie’s direction, so quiet that you think you’ve imagined it were it not for Reiner turning his head in her direction. She’s looking down at Dolly’s head resting on top of Reiner’s thigh, and something in her eyes is short enough to send a shudder up your spine.

“Best as a soldier?” she scoffs. “You think anyone joining the MP has such a pretentious, noble goal in mind?”

Even though Annie and Reiner didn’t seem to get along well, or have any common history you’re aware of, sometimes she is capable of saying things that make him go silent for a moment—like right now. Maybe that was just Annie’s expertise—saying things people didn’t want to face.

“What about you?” Reiner turns to you, choosing to run from Annie’s glacier-cutting gaze. “Changed your mind yet? Your performance has dropped, but you can still make a comeback in the final exams next month.”

You look up from where you’re crouching on the ground, digging your hands through the soil. The smell calms you, and nothing is quite a testimony to a hard day at work than the dirt and grime under your nails. “Nope, still don’t care about the MP,” you chirp.

“Really? Has Eren finally convinced you to join the Scouts, then?”

“Eren?” You throw a quick glance at him. “No, why would he have anything to do with that?”

“After everything you’ve been through, I thought you two are like this,” Reiner says, crossing index and middle finger. You throw a handful of dirt at him and pretend it doesn’t please you that the others think you and Eren are that close.

It shouldn’t be a surprise.

Not after you’ve survived the wolves; not while you two gradually gravitate towards each other like moths to a flame. Certainly not when every time you practice together in hand-to-hand-combat, it is like rough, desperate fucking where no one wants to relinquish the upper hand—and dominance—to the other. There is no finesse to your fighting, unlike Annie or Mikasa, you two just rely on brutal force and a desperation to win that is downright frightening at times.

Last time, you had almost won. Almost, if you hadn’t been so blind with joy and stroking your own ego having handed Eren his ass. Then, everything happened so quickly. He hooked his feet behind your ankles and tugged, swiping your legs from under you. Not even a second on your ass, his feet locked behind the back of your knees, he turned to the right, forcing you to turn with him, and suddenly you were the one on all fours, bending over. You had tried to scramble back up, but Eren snatched one arm from under you and his other hand found the back of your neck, pushing your face into the dirt, the other pinning your arm behind your back. His hips pressed hard against your ass. Stunned, you had remained still, and you could have sworn Eren had muttered something along the lines of “Right where I want you,” but you couldn’t be sure because a moment later, Jean was already there, kicking Eren off you. You didn’t pay any attention to their squabble—you didn’t pay attention to anything happening that day because your mind kept conjuring very unnecessary images of Eren using his strength to manhandle you in a bunch of different other positions.

“I made my decision a long time ago,” you say now before your mind can venture to those fantasies again, “and I’m not going to change it. Just like Eren won’t change his mind if I tried talking him out of joining the Scouts. Besides—” You clamp your mouth shut. Three pairs of eyes stare at you, waiting for you to continue, but you can’t just tell them about the deal you’ve made with Ymir.

She approached you two months ago, on a grey, rainy day—though maybe ‘approach’ was too tame a word for how she had slithered after you like a snake sneaking after prey for days on end. It was a simple, small mission; heading out to a long-abandoned manor close to Wall Rose and checking the damage after a vicious storm had swept through it. The rain had subsided enough to venture out, and during a short break under the coverage of a tree’s canopy, you had veered off the group to refill your water bottle with fresh rain water.

The landscape was not gentle and rolling, but harsh and foreboding. Green hills dotted with grey gorse swept up into crags of dark rock. Long lines of mortarless stone walls, meant for keeping in sheep, crisscrossed the green; here and there was dotted the occasional lonely cottage. The sky seemed an endless expanse of white, brushed with the strokes of long, dark grey clouds.

You had noticed Ymir shadowing you all week prior to that conversation. Standing in dark corners, watching you with her unnerving, small eyes like little pinpricks of a dagger’s sharp tip aiming for your throat. You’d known it was only a question of when she’d corner you, and when on that day, she had risen behind you, you were already expecting her, meeting her eyes only slightly obscured by the hood drawn over her face from her cape.

“What do you want?”

Ymir had stared at you, unblinkingly. And then she’d thrown her head back, barking out a laugh that cracked like thunder. “Right to the point, then. I like how you turned out after that whole fiasco with the dogs in the woods.”

“You mean when I almost died? Yeah. Great times.”

“Oh, come on.” Ymir rolled her eyes and joined you kneeling at the ground, wiping forth her own water flask. “You survived. You grew a pair of balls most of the guys here don’t have. It wasn’t all bad.”

You gave a gruff sound of acknowledging her words—the compliment. Ymir never handed out compliments unless one was small, blonde and named Christa, and the fact in itself only proved your theory that she was after something.

Staring at you some more, Ymir’s grin didn’t cool, but it sharpened. A muscle in her jaw clenched, as though she was chewing on her words before she spoke. Finally, she said, “I need you to do something.”

“You need me,” you repeated, just to check that you didn’t mishear, “to do something for you?”

Ymir nodded, a single curt movement as one would chop up wood. Or someone’s head. You felt as if ice water had been dumped down the back of your neck, shoving you to full alertness. “And what exactly would that be?” you asked.

Ymir stood still as a statue, unblinking. You felt as though something very serious was happening right now, and allowed her to take time to find the words. Then, she finally looked up, and said, “You don’t care about the ranking. Let Christa have your spot.”

“Hmm.” You watched the rain droplets collect at the mouth of your flask where they didn’t disappear in the narrow black hole. The wind picked up, whipping your coats left and right. So many thoughts whirled inside your head until they finally settled. “You want Christa in the MP, even though you won’t be able to follow her? Why?”

“None of your business,” Ymir snapped, not even trying to bite back a sharp retort. “Just say Yes or No. I’ll figure out something else.”

“Is it because you love her?” you continued, ignoring her. “Or are you arranging everything so that she’ll help you from inside the Inner Wall later?”

Ymir didn’t respond for a while. When you didn’t think she’d answer at all, she gritted out, “I want a safe life for Christa. Don’t pretend you’ve never had anyone like that.”

You pressed your lips together. The water in your bag had started spilling. You watched the water flow over and soak into the already wet earth.

“Okay,” you said.

There was only a brief pause. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It’s like you said, I don’t care about the ranking.”

Very quietly, you heard Ymir exhale a long breath. She rose to her feet, looking like she wanted to seal the deal somehow. With a handshake or a clap to your shoulder. Maybe even pat your cheek like she had done when she’d talked to you for the first time all those years back. Ultimately, she preferred her hand intact and wouldn’t gamble with you biting it off, and stood to go back to the other cadets.

“Ymir,” you said before she left. Ymir stopped. Slowly, she turned. “What’s in for me?”

She positively flashed her teeth at you like a cornered wolf as though you have not already learned how to dance with wolves. You were not afraid of them anymore. Screwing the water flask shut, you closed the distance between you two. “You didn’t think I’d just do you a favour with nothing in return, right?”

“I was hoping you’d be that naive, yes.”

You gave her a smile. It was not a pleasant smile. “No, you’d hoped I’d let you use me. But I’m not letting my chance at having you owe me pass.”

Ymir clicked her tongue. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and looked mildly annoyed. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know yet,” you answered truthfully. Ymir’s mild look of annoyance grew into a very physical, very palpable thing she looked like she might use and whack you with.

“You had me thinking you’re badass and smart for a second. Who’s to say you hold up your end of the deal but I’ll disappear forever?”

“I’m not worried about that,” you said, climbing after her back up the hill. “I will find you and make you hold up your end of the bargain, Ymir.”

Ymir didn’t stop to look at you. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a promise.”

***

Two years away from Trost, you have almost forgotten how badly crowded the narrow streets are. Carriages roll side by side with costermongers’ carts piled high with fruit and vegetables; women shawled and carrying shallow baskets full of flowers dive madly in and out of traffic as they try to interest the occupants of various carriages in their wares; and cabs come to a full stop in the midst of traffic so that the cab drivers can scream at one another from their seats. The noise adds to the din—ice cream paddlers shouting “Hokey-pokey, coin a lump,” newspaper boys hawking the day’s latest headline, and someone somewhere playing a barrel organ.

It is a vast contrast to today’s morning exercise where you’ve practised evacuating the civilians during a Titan breach, the streets empty save for the giant wooden Titan dummies and a few citizens acting out an emergency. The instructors dubbed it a simple exercise, but everyone knew it was part of the ongoing final examination that had started a week ago and is slowly creeping towards its end.

You’re surprised how easy it is to perform badly. Ymir’s deal gives you a nice way out of carrying the responsibility to make a choice after graduation. Already, other cadets have been mumbling “what a waste it is” that you would “only” join the Garrison when so many would use your rank and buzz off inthat hside the Inner Walls. Now that you’re leaving the spot to Christa, it’s like a weight has slipped from your shoulders.

Shadis notices, of course. The first two weeks had been the beginning of your military training all over again—screaming at you until his spit ran down your face in rivers, penalty drills for slacking off, threats to send you back home where you could pick up and sell shit from the gutters for all that he cared.

You’re still here a week later, though now you wish you weren’t because slowly, you’re running out of patience to deal with Jean’s bitching.

“And why would she just barge in like she owns the place?” he repeats for what must be the third time today. “I told her I’d drop by eventually.”

“Like you dropped by the last time we were stationed near the farms and didn’t visit her?” You haul another basket stacked to the brim with flower garlands onto the cart, pushing it to the very back against the other caskets you’ve already stored. As a little girl, you never noticed how many flowers were involved in the May Day. You were way too busy stuffing your mouth with sweets and pastries, and playing at the game stalls while the adults staggered past you with heavy beer and ale filled jugs, hollering and screeching songs.

The excitement for the holiday is like a charged up buzz jumping from person to person. A day and night full of revelries and pleasantries, games and drinks and good food. A break for cadets before their graduation—and a little pick me up for the Scouts as they’re heading out for another expedition outside the Walls the week after.

You’re mostly looking forward to the food and enjoying a great time with your friends before everyone goes their own way. Who knows when you’ll see each other next time. If you see each other next time.

You shake your head, banishing these thoughts to where they don’t wear down your excitement.

“What do you mean, No?” Jean asks incredulously, which is a problem because he stops and you walk right into him, and the second basket you’re carrying bounces off his back and right into your stomach as you walk into him.

“Ooof.” You glare up at him. “Do you mind? I want to finish this work before lunch break.”

He stares at you, and realises too late, “You didn’t listen to anything I just said, did you?”

You don’t bother trying to look contrite. Jean looks like he might throw his hands up, but the basked in his hands makes that impossible unless he’d prefer a broken foot. Instead, he settles for pulling a face at you.

“I can’t believe I’m pouring my heart out to you like that and you don’t care.” He drops the casket unceremoniously into the cart so that half its contents spill, and turns around to you, thick arms crossed over his broad chest. His white shirt sticks to his skin from the hard work, outlining the strong chords of muscles running along his arms, his abdomen. He always used to be taller than you, but now after years of hard, rigorous training, he’s also broader, and he has no problem letting you know that during hand-to-hand-combat practice or whenever he wants to make a point and hands your ass to you.

“It’s hard to be on your side when all you do is bitch about having a mother who’s looking after you,” you snap. The effect is immediate. Jean takes a step back as if he has been punched and doesn’t know where the blow has come from. When he stares at you, it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. Something inside his face shuts close.

“You don’t understand—” he begins, but immediately seals his mouth shut.

You cock your head to the side, challenging him. “Why? Because I don’t have a mom? No parents who can fuzz around and worry about me?”

Jean goes very quiet. “That’s not what I meant.”

You stare each other down like two strangers trying to determine if the person standing before you is a threat. It is as though even after these three years and everything you have been through, Jean feels more distant lately.

Before you can open your mouth, a female voice shouts from across the plaza, “You two, stop slacking off and move your asses! We’ve still got too much work to do!”

“Let’s go back,” you say, subdued.

Jean sighs and makes an after-fucking-you gesture. You move to the next row of baskets in silence. Working with your body is easier than working with your brain on how to undo the damage. But one look at Jean tells you his face is still a closed door. You have no patience for delicate lock-picking, and instead decide to kick the door in.

“I’m sorry,” you say at the same time he blurts, “I didn’t mean to be an asshole.”

You look at each other. Smile. Order has been restored.

“Ida just means well. After graduation, she won’t be seeing you anytime soon,” you say. The next basket is full of white daisies, tulips and roses. You stare at the soft-petalled mount, feeling the strange urge to shove your face right into them and inhale. Maybe you’ll get high on the sweet smelling pollen.

“I know, I know.” Jean waves his hand. “I’ll visit her. After that stupid cook off next week.”

“Why did you want to participate in the first place?”

“You think I’d let Sasha and her big mouth go around and tell everyone she’s a better cook than me?”

“Oh, woe is men and their fragile pride.”

Jean shoves you with his elbow, only hard enough to make you lose your balance.

You finish your work, the next assignment already waiting for you on the other side of the District. Your supervising officer orders you to join with the others who are already busy setting up the sets of tables and benches, and the minstrels’ stage.

You walk the same streets as three years ago on the day you signed up for the military. The District hasn’t changed at all, but you two have. You don’t miss how Jean tilts his face upwards, examining the roofs and crenellations of the buildings. Looking for anchor points for his gear. You’ve also categorised the best advance points by height. The whole world looks different since the ODM gear has become a part of you.

As you cross the plaza, Jean throws an apple at you, a leftover from Ida’s surprise visit last week. You catch it with ease, your reflexes sharpened to an arrow’s tip precision over the years. Turning it over in your hand, you barely dodge a cart transporting a row of stacked benches onto the plaza. Good service those reflexes do you. But Jean has pulled you into his side for good measure as well, staring daggers after the cart.

“Bloody Hell, it’s like suddenly they don’t know how to manoeuvre those things,” he says.

You glance at his hand still closed tightly around your upper arm.

“They’re just excited,” you say. “And a little nervous. They still haven’t found a May Queen.”

“I wonder why they don’t just pick a random chick, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“The people of Trost think differently about it.”

Jean mumbles something to himself and lets you go. “That’s why you don’t change tradition. If they’d just pick a pretty lass, we wouldn’t be under this pressure.”

“Anyone specific in mind?”

Jean looks down at you, snuffling. “Mikasa for example.”

“Wow. Okay.”

“What? Do you want to be May Queen?”

You raise your chin. “I mean, I don’t, but why do you sound like I wouldn’t be able to pull it off?”

“I mean…” Jean kneads the back of his neck. “I don’t remember the last time you wore a dress.”

“It’s not like I forgot how to move in petticoats and girdles,” you say. “I just prefer not to.”

“Come on, how hard can it be?”

“Hmph,” you say. “I’d like to see how you’d manage sitting and standing up straight in stays and petticoats for a whole night.”

“So would I,” says Marco, appearing out of nowhere with a table thrown over his shoulder as though it weighs nothing. Jean and you share a moment of silent appreciation for Marco’s arm muscles.

Jean shakes his head. Either about your comment or to clear his head from whatever images Marco’s sight conjures in his mind. “Whatever. I only really care about the food, and after that, it’s straight up inside the Inner Wall and away from this sewer of a District.”

You question that ‘straight,’ but you question even more if Marco has managed to talk with Jean about a change of heart. When you give him a sideways glance, Marco catches your eye and subtly shakes his head. Not yet, it seems.

“You know, if there’s ever a chance I’ll meet your Military Police regiment, I’ll do my best to embarrass you and tell them all those funny stories about little Jeanie how he got trapped naked in a rose bush,” you say, and drop the apple Jean has given you in a beggar-woman’s lap as you enter the wide, open marketplace.

“You wouldn’t—” Jean begins, but is interrupted by cheers erupting like a thunder storm around you. People scream, their hands thrown high in the air. You’re the definition of confusion. Marco almost drops the table and crushes a little girl darting between the adults crowding you three like ants climbing over themselves to reach food.

“May Queen!” the girl shrieks, and throws a bright flower crown with frightening precision on your head. She then points at you. “We’ve found our May Queen!”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Oh no no no no no,” you say out loud the moment someone swoops you up your feet. Nausea rolls through you—you hate hate being picked up, hate how it makes you feel like the small kid from five years ago during Shiganshina’s attack—before you start hyperventilating, you glimpse Jean in the crowd, doubled over and supporting himself against Marco, laughing at you so hard he almost topples over.

Bastard.

“No sense of modesty, not one of them,” you spit, holding your breath as Mina, Hannah and Christa try to get you into that prison of a dress made specifically for this year’s May Day celebrations. The seamstress who worked on the dress, Hilda, smiles patiently.

“Well, the people … and I mean the women, have been complaining for years that only choosing the most beautiful girl seems a little unfair. I liked that no one new this year’s criteria. I’ve heard a woman in Stohess adopted a litter of kittens, and another performed a handstand for hours and hours in Jinae. Acts of kindness make for a far better queen than her appearance, don’t you think so too, girls?”

They grunt their replies, too focused on tying the bodice on your back.

“Since we’re at it,” you wheeze, feeling as though your lungs are being crushed and all your organs squeezed into a pipeline, “how about we change the dress code as well?”

“Now, let’s not get too hasty,” Hilda says, smiling. “Or I will be out of a job.”

“But I will be out of a life.”

“Beauty is harsh,” Hilda provides unhelpfully, “but you will be the most powerful woman tonight.” And with that, she jitters away like a little excited bird to grab more silk ribbons. It’s probably the first and last time you will ever wear something so expensive.

“Last chance,” you say, turning to your friends after Mina finishes tying the last knot at the back of your corset. “Any volunteers? Christa? You would make such a better May Queen than me.”

Christa beams. “Nonsense! You look so stunning, [Name]! And I think this is exactly what you need after dropping out of the ranking.”

Gods bless her heart. You don’t know what to say should she find out you do this for her sake.

“All eyes will be on you tonight.” Mina takes your hand and twirls you around as if you are a princess and she is asking for a dance. The frilly, heavy dress brushes against your thighs and leaves a sliver of skin visible, showing exactly where—and how tight—the white tights you’re wearing end. “I can’t wait for all the festivities and drinks and music!”

“I heard the Scouts will be there as well,” Hannah chimes in. She lets her hand roam over the different fabrics Hilda has laid out before deciding which colour would suit your eyes best. “They’re off to another expedition next week, right?”

“Just a small one. I can’t imagine most of the execs joining tonight though. There’s still the final test at the end of this week, and then the official choosing of our branches.”

“It’s so weird,” Mina whispers, her grey eyes big. “We’ll graduate tomorrow.”

She’s met with silence. Between most of the cadets there is the unanimous agreement that nobody talks about the graduation; about the friends you’ll part from. You look over at Mina, oh and there it is again, the expression on her face you have recently come to see—and loathe—more often: as though her saint has forsaken her and now she is facing a brewing storm all alone.

Mina catches your eyes and gives you a sad, little smile. You have already been instructed that if you join the Garrison, you will be stationed at your home districts. You will stay here in Trost, but Mina will return to Karanes District. Even the promise that you will visit each other is only bitter-sweet knowing the first two or three years will be strictly to settle in your new unit.

“Oh, stop making those faces,” Christa says. “Tonight is a night of fun! I won’t allow you to go out frowning like that.” She grins and takes your hand, and in that brief second something flashes in her eyes that is so unlike Christa that you hesitate when she starts pulling you towards the shop’s front door. It makes her stop dead in her tracks—and there it is again, the timid look etched onto her face like a painting you’re more familiar with after all those years.

Mina must have realised Christa’s plan. She takes your other hand and kicks open the door. “Come on, we’re done taking measures. Let’s go and see the plaza.”

“I don’t think Hilda is done with the dress—” you begin, but your protest falls on deaf ears. Mina’s eyes sparkle with mischief. You have always been unable to tell her No when the Saint of Adventures holds her captive.

She pulls you outside the small tailor shop and into a narrow street where vibrant garlands of flowers hang from the roofs like exotic snakes. Already, the streets are filled with mouth-watering smells of food, the sound of laughter and joy.

Mina plucks a colourful flower wreath from a vendor’s stand. The man’s face behind the counter, just a moment ago a brewing storm, immediately clears of any wrinkles and lights up when he sees you. He bows like a knight courting a princess, greeting you with a loud, jolly “Maienkoenigin!” and with that, you are in the centre of attention.

You’re pretty sure the revelries would have started with a small speech from Trost’s mayor during Commander Pixis’ presence, but now that the people see you are out on the streets, they’ve taken it into their own hands to toast to you.

From all corners you see flower petals thrown in your direction. “Maria Maienkoenigin, wir kommen dich zu gruessen. Oh holde Freudenspenderin, sieh uns zu deinen Fuessen!” they sing the holiday’s song in honour of the May Queen and Wall Maria where the May Festival five years ago should have taken place.

Boys and girls dance around your knees, grabbing for your skirts to get your attention and accept their little flower bouquets as the crowd moves to the plaza with you in the middle. Tall poles stand at the entrances, decorated with more flowers and paper garlands snaking around them to the very top. The May pole, this year a birch tree, has already been erected in the centre where a wide square has been outlined to mark the dance floor and where later boys and girls weave the colourful ribbons around the pole.

Surrounding it are multiple, long rows of tables and on the side, right next to a wooden square where the band plays, officials have prepared a celebratory banquet fit for a queen. Your mouth waters just thinking about all the delicacies waiting to be devoured.

Were it up to you, you’d immediately charge for the food. But Mina has other plans. She pulls you towards a table—you didn’t even notice your training corps has gathered and selected one closest to the banquet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mina announces. “Our May Queen!”

A round of polite applause sounds until they get a better look at you.

Connie starts howling like a wild animal.

Somewhere Ymir is screaming her case that Christa should wear that dress instead.

Jean, sitting at the very front, just stares at you—and that of all lashes uncertainty across your chest like a spiky whip. You don’t think you have ever felt self-conscious in front of him, but now you are painfully aware of the low cut of your dress, the corset hugging your body tight and pushing your tits up into full, round mounds. It feels as though one move too much and your tights will rip in two. You are very aware of how you look as you slide onto the bench next to Jean. He doesn’t scoot over to make you place, leaving your thigh pressing right against his, but turns his head away and takes a big swig from his cup as though his mouth is parched.

Compared to Eren, Jean has manners, at least. Ever since you have joined, he hasn’t stopped staring blatantly at your tits.

“Hey,” Jean snaps. Eren doesn’t blink. “Hey, Jeager!” He snaps his fingers right in front of Eren’s eyes. “Eyes up, you freak.”

Eren startles, and blinks as if he’s just woken up from a dream. He looks from you to Jean, and very intelligently says, “Huh?”

“You look very pretty,” Marco mumbles into his cup from Jean’s other side because he is the only gentleman in this rowdy round of pigs.

“I could do with a little less cleavage,” you admit. “And a little more breathing.”

“Well, it’s tradition.” Jean fumbles with his wooden spoon as if it is particularly hot to the touch. When he drops it and it falls in the non-existing space between your touching legs, he glares at it very hard as if by doing that, he might will it back into his hands. You pick it up, hold it out to him. Jean stares at you as if he sees you for the very first time.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with a tradition that puts women into skimpy dresses?” you ask. Jean needs a full minute before he finally takes the spoon from you. It is deliberately careful as though you are handing him a sharp tool rigged with thorns that might jump at him any second.

He makes a point looking right into your eyes. “I just think you made a lot of guys very happy today.”

“Meaning how?”

He shrugs. “We guys just talk about stuff.”

You look sideways at him. “Anything interesting?”

Jean gives you a quick once-over and says, “Oh, you have no idea.”

You can tell he wants you to ask what, so you don’t.

Once the excitement settles and the feast begins, you slowly begin to feel more comfortable. You don’t think you’ll get used to the stares and gawking, and you can’t wait to wear your comfortable uniform again where the greatest offence is someone staring at your ass. But for only one day it is nice to be revelled for your womanhood, for your beauty, and the power a woman holds for bringing forth life from her womb.

The food is more delicious than anything you had during your trainee days. You don’t remember the last time you had meat. Roasted pig, a fatty chicken broth with fresh vegetables. Familiar recipes from your childhood are served at the banquet: raviolis, tardpolane, blancmange and clarer. The mead and beer flows in rivers, served by beautiful girls who all wear a distinct flower in their hair. Children come and share their treats with you, piling hills of sweet rolls, candies and honeyed biscuits onto your table. You’re glad Sasha is already working on it.

District Mayor Singman holds his speech about work and prosperity, about the great solidarity that made this feast possible in the first place and the great harvest waiting as a reward later in the year. Commander Pixis is next, but you barely listen to his praises about the recruits showing great promise and how he can’t wait to welcome them. You’re too busy peeking over at Eren who is peeking back at you from time to time. His pupils are blown black whenever his eyes trail over the crimson ribbon holding your front together—one pull on that ribbon alone and your whole dress would come undone.

 So you don’t pay much attention when Jean and Sasha and their teams go to the front and hold their competition. Only when the familiar scent of Ida’s omelette wafts to your table, you look up and see Jean standing up on the podium, looking a little lost as he presents his culinary creation to Commander Pixis. The fact that he used his favourite meal, one of Ida’s many dishes she has perfected over the years just so her little Jeanie would go nuts with joy, unfurls something in your chest, making you feel a warmth that you know has nothing to do with the mead in your belly.

Jean wins, and thus the festival’s games begin.

Everyone who wins a small wooden chip can switch it for a free drink, a treat or a small token of affection from yours truly, the May Queen—all in accordance with your consent, of course, and you’re glad Garrison and MP soldiers on duty make sure no one oversteps your boundaries. You doubt anyone is out for quarrel and blood today, anyway. Revelries like this one are such a rarity that nobody wants to fight.

Most have been very sweet so far. Old grannies and grandpas give you their gifted tokens to hold and pat your hand, telling you their stories—about past May Days and the games and feasts and joyous times before Wall Maria’s fall.

Sometimes you stop listening because you spot a handsome young man or pretty young woman throwing starry-eyed, flirtatious gazes your way from a distance, their chips held close and dear to their chests, unsure if they can come closer. You’ve only had a few sips from the mead served at every table, but you feel so warm, so comfortable. You always smile back at them.

Others would come to chink glasses or invite you to a quick dance under the intoxicating sound of a jolly fiddle and the beautiful voices of a bard duo.

Not even an hour in, the first familiar face emerges from the crowd of strangers. Reiner grins down at you when you roll your eyes in a teasing way.

“Popular, aren’t we?” he says, flipping the chip between his fingers. His shirt is torn at the collar, dust and dirt patches adorn his cheeks and the lower part of his shirt that’s half-tugged into his breeches. Behind him, Bertholdt trails him like a shadow, looking anxious as always when he’s swallowed by a foreign crowd. It isn’t the first time you notice that he’s attractive in this non-conventional way. He doesn’t stick out even though he is so damn tall; he isn’t overly handsome but you really adore his nose and his pale green eyes. Bertholdt catches your eyes and gives you a small, sheepish smile. He looks as though he’d rather face a dozen Titans than asking someone for a quick dance.

“Why am I not surprised?” You smile, slightly leaning forward as you prop yourself up on a fence you’ve been leaning against. Reiner’s eyes immediately drop to your neckline. He mirrors your smile, and you feel all warm and tingly in your belly, the honeyed taste of mead still sweet and heavy on your tongue. “But you look like someone roughed you up real good.”

“Grappling.” He gives a lazy shrug, but you can see that he’s secretly pleased to have won. “You should see the other guy.”

“Tell me then, what affection do you seek?” you recite the quote—not for the first or last time for this night.

His only answer is a suggestive grin, and then he leans over and brushes his lips over your cheek. It sends a bolt of electricity from your face down to your legs where your knees turn to cotton. Satisfied with your reaction, he saunters away, leaving you feeling warmer than after any dance so far. It takes a minute or two until your heart stops thrumming when the next suitors already wait in line.

“Just like I predicted,” Christa beams up at you. She’s circled by Ymir and Mina, and judging from the rose-red blush on their cheeks, you aren’t the only one who’s a few drinks in. They’re wearing flower crowns as well: blood-crimson and virgin-white petals sit proudly on their heads. Except Ymir. You can hardly imagine her a queen anyway. A knight seems more likely. Christa’s virtue has always been Ymir’s biggest priority during trainee days.

Mina sways a little. It takes a moment for you to realise she’s trying to pull something out of her pocket, and when she finally manages it without losing balance, she proudly presents you a wooden chip. “I have a chip,” she declares, just to make sure you don’t miss it. She holds it under your nose as if you might still doubt her. “It was Christa though who won it,” she adds very sadly.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one who can give Christa anything,” Ymir quickly butts in, throwing her arms possessively around Christa’s small frame.

You’re about to blurt that allowing Christa entrance into the MP is already more than anything one could get around here, when Mina slaps her hands on your cheeks and smashes her mouth on yours. Her lips are very, very soft, and she tastes like sweet apple cider.

As quickly, she pulls back, a happy smile spreading on her face.

You grin back. Before joining the military, you’ve kissed one or two boys in Trost, their names already long lost and withered in a garden where you’ve pledged to take care of new flowers that have grown over the last three years. The bouvardia’s little pink heads shake in excitement today.

Mina takes your hand and weaves you surprisingly soberly through the dancing and laughing crowd, dodging expertly whoever tries to reach for you because they want to invite you for another pint or dance. She leads you to a table a little off the main plaza where couples and children dance in never-ending circles to the music, and only when you sit down, a little confused from the new surroundings, you notice the familiar faces of your squad.

Connie and Sasha, arm in arm, sway to the music, singing gibberish lyrics that could be the right ones, could be their whole new take on it. Daz and Samuel try to outdrink each other, not caring about how unkindly their bodies will repay them come tomorrow. You notice Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt are not present and wonder what they might be up to. In your half-drunken state there’s only one answer you arrive at, one that makes you giggle into your mug and almost choke on the mead.

“What are you laughing at?” Jean asks. He has Marco and Armin in tow—one distinctly blushing, the other too aware, too attentive for your liking. Clearly, Armin hasn’t touched any booze yet, and clearly, that is about to change.

The moment he sits down, on cue, a bartender from the closest counter swipes in and distributes new mugs spilling over with beer.

“Here’s your drink, stranger,” he says. “Bottoms up.”

Armin obediently starts getting up.

The bartender gently presses him back down. “The drink, lad.”

“What’s it like, being the popular one for one day?” Jean asks as he leans over the table, wearing that stupid smug smile you’d love to punch off his face. Maybe with your mouth even. The thought whips you sober; kicks up dust that’s settled in a corner for such a long time that you forgot all about the feeling it’s hiding and what it’s like to mourn her.

Answer. You still have to answer, even though you’re afraid you might choke on that dust.

“That’s a whole day more than you’ll ever get, Kirschstein,” you say, quickly locking your lips to your tankard because your mouth feels too dry.

Jean flips you off. Beside you, Marco is fiddling with something in his lap, and when you take a closer look, you see he’s pushing a wooden chip into his palm with his thumb. He catches your gaze and flushes furiously.

“Jean,” he begins, startling Jean opposite from him. Quieter, Marco continues, “Jean won it.”

You level Jean with a long, silent gaze.

“What?” Jean mumbles.

“You saying you wouldn’t wanna kiss [Name]?” Connie shouts from the other end of the table.

Suddenly, it’s deafeningly silent.

“It’d be like kissing my own cousin,” he shouts back, his voice loud enough it almost breaks. From nervousness? From disgust?

The table laughs.

You laugh.

Suddenly, the mead sloshes heavy in your stomach like acid. Maybe you’ve just drunk too much.

The jest unlocks something that’s been holding Marco back. He quickly snatches your hand and presses his lips to your knuckles before dropping it again and lifting himself from the seat. He flees into the crowd of dancers, ears crimson red, Sasha’s cries to bring her more of the sticky honey roast falling on deaf ears.

When you look over at Jean, he’s staring at you, then at Marco, as if he’s just realised something, and his pupils grow large, black. Fathomless.

You need to know what’s going on in his head, but before you can voice your question—bold by wine and pleasure, you’re ready to cross the line—a storm in the form of Eren appears right beside you, trailed by Mikasa who—do your eyes deceive you?—looks as though she’s trying not to smile. She catches Armin’s eyes, and they both share a silent glance.

Eren announces his arrival by slamming a wooden chip right in front of you as though you have insulted him and now it’s his right to demand reparations to his status.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he demands.

You blink up at him, and it takes time before your eyes meet his as your attention gets lost on the way to his face: on his biceps, on his sharp collarbones winking at you from under his white shirt.

“What’s so hard to understand about it?” Jean snorts into his tankard. “It’s just for fun, Jaeger. Maybe you should look it up in a dictionary.”

Eren does look a little as though he’s never heard of that. You also can’t imagine him participating in a game for fun. He’d make a game of can knockdown into a question of life and death.

“You can give it to me, if you don’t want it,” Connie pipes up.

“You scared of girls, Jeager?” Jean continues, talking over whatever Connie has in mind with you. “This might be your only chance ever getting kissed by one before you head out beyond the Walls and die a horrible, pathetic death.”

“It’s stupid,” Eren says to you, as if you are the inventor of the May Queen’s tradition. “It cost me two coins to play the damn game and this is what I get?”

“No one is forcing you—” Connie tries again, sneaking his hand across the table to swipe the chip.

“Ohh, look at you, Eren, trying to pretend like you’d hate it,” you speak up now, slamming your hand over the chip and almost squishing Connie’s fingers under your palm. He jerks back, cradling his hand close to his chest. “You want to kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid.”

Once more, laughter rises from your table. You look into the faces of your friends and relish in being the reason for their joy.

Eren doesn’t think it’s funny. Eren Jaeger is fucking determined to prove you wrong. He slaps his hands around your cheeks, holding your head in place. Every sound dies at your table.

You’re about to tell him it’s just a joke, no need to get his knickers in a twist, but he’s dead set on his mission: Giving you a concussion because he smashes his mouth against your forehead and almost knocks you both out cold.

Jean, who’s still been laughing until this point, goes dead silent, looking sickly grey.

“Hey—” he begins, but gets knocked over by an over-excited and slightly drunk Connie, splashing beer all over himself.

Eren reels back, hand pressed against his mouth, his bottom lip bleeding where his teeth have grazed it. Your head throbs and you’re pretty sure your cheeks show red lines where he’s pressed his fingers into your skin with a bruising grip.

“Oh my God, don’t you know how to kiss someone?” Connie hollers, banging his fist on the table hard enough it shakes and you hear a distinct crack. Jean starts to climb over the table, ready to administer rough justice, but his foot gets stuck at the edge and he topples off the table right to the feet of a few girls who misinterpret it and haul him up to drag him away to the dance floor. Your whole table is attacked by merry dancers, and you’re yanked away from your friends when the minstrels begin their performance and the music picks up again. The sounds swell to a roar—as do the guest’s voices when they chime in with the jolly song.

The Fishmonger’s daughter, ba ba The Fishmonger’s daughter, ba ba The Fishmonger’s daughter, ba ba The Fishmonger’s daughter, ba ba ba

A great classic to start off the night. Ring-a-ring-of-roses it goes as the guests dance in a wide circle, arm in arm, shouting in tandem. You don’t know the faces to your left and right, but their smiles are infectious. You laugh so hard your belly and cheeks hurt. The circle breaks, pairs find together like bees to flowers. Now that everyone is on their feet and in a dancing mood, the minstrels start a new song. On and on in circles it goes—left and right, from partner to partner until faces blur and become unrecognisable.

Your head feels light, as though filled with cotton. You want to stay in this moment forever—dancing, singing, laughing.

A strong hand gently settles on your underarm. You look up at strong, broad shoulders and arms the size of logs. The man has slicked his blonde hair back neatly, and when he walks through the crowd, it parts naturally as though he is a force of nature to be reckoned with—and then he turns, and you look up in the sharp, blue eyes of Survey Corps Commander Erwin Smith.

A/N: Fingers crossed I'll upload the final chapter of the first act at the end of October.

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#aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x y/n #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #swyaatl