#zahra writes
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WIP Wednesday
Hi! I'd say something about being late again, but at this point it seems to be a pattern for me so I'm just embracing it. If you're reading this, thank you! Thanks to everyone who tagged me at the end :)
I have now finished 9/16 chapters of WIP: Daddy Issues, the dads' storyline swap fic! In celebration, here's a snip:
After a brief round of back-and-forth teasing, which doesn’t seem entirely appropriate though Alex has assured him that Zahra’s family and the curse-filled nicknames are her love language, Alex finally introduces him.
“Your Royal Highness,” Zahra says, curtsying before Henry can stop her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m not sure why you’re hanging around Alex’s ass, but apparently, swing voters are a big fan of British royalty when they’re not trying to be our colonial overlords. So, thanks for the boost.”
“Henry, please,” he says automatically, once she’s finished speaking. “And you’re welcome, I suppose.”
Tags and thanks below the cut!
Thanks to @littlemisskittentoes @gayrootvegetable @xthelastknownsurvivorx @itsmaybitheway @anincompletelist @sparklepocalypse @wordsofhoneydew @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @magicandarchery @nocoastposts and @kiwiana-writes for the tags!!!
I am once again tagging people who are welcome to also slide in late or use this for another day of their choosing, sorry if I missed your post: @affectionatelyrs @cactusdragon517 @cultofsappho @eusuntgratie @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @gay-flyboys @jackzimmermemes @junebugclaremontdiaz @juloviz @leojfitz @leaves-of-laurelin @read-and-write- @rockyroadkylers @rmd-writes @run-for-chamo-miles @user-anakin @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and open tag to anyone else who wants it!
#red white and royal blue#rwrb fanfic#rwrb#firstprince#fanfiction#rwrb fandom#alex claremont diaz#henry fox mountchristen windsor#zahra bankston#wip wednesday#rwrb wip wednesday#happinessofthepursuit writes#wip: daddy issues
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Alex Vs Goodreads Trolls
Henry is in the UK for the launch of his book, leaving Alex to his own devices. He's got an internet connection & a bottle of scotch, what's the worst that could happen?
Well this being Alex Claremont-Diaz, just a tiny international publicity crisis for Henry & his team, of course.
Rating: T | Word Count: 3.7k | One-shot
[Shout out to @candyspandemonium for being a wonderful beta on this very silly fic, enjoy!]
#rwrb#red white and royal blue#rwrb fanfic#red white and royal blue fanfic#firstprince#firstprince fanfic#alex claremont diaz#henry fox mountchristen windsor#beatrice fox mountchristen windsor#june claremont diaz#nora holleran#zahra bankston#shaan srivastava#percy okonjo#tailsbeth writes
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Congratulations on 500!!! 🎉🎉 Extremely well deserved!
How about Zahra, 9:37pm, somewhere in England (I leave where exactly entirely up you)?
I'm on ao3 as hwaelweg 💙
for you my lovely, I have a lil date night moment for Zahra and Shaan. hope you love it, and thanks for being AMAZING and screaming about books with me 💜🦗
want your own ficlet? my followers can submit prompts based on these guidelines through January 31, 2024
❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙
9:37pm, london
Zahra looks around from her perch at the bar. The pub is all dark wood and the smell of decades of smoke sunk into the furniture. It’s the most stereotypical English pub she could ever have pictured, and she’d never admit it out loud, but she fucking loves it. There’s classic rock playing quietly over the speakers, often drowned out by the laughter of the group of students in one corner. A pair of old men, who look like they might be part of the architecture, are putting away more Guinness than she’s ever seen in one sitting. Someone’s playing darts near the back, for fuck’s sake.
She’d love the place even more if her goddamn fianceé was here with her, but she of all people understands an unconventional working schedule. Especially when the Claremont-Diaz family is even tangentially involved. If she had a nickel for everytime she dismissed that little annoying popup in Outlook that says “Send during normal working hours instead?” she’d be set for life.
“Another round, dear?”
“I—” A buzz from her phone interrupts and she glances at it, heart giving an excited little wriggle when she sees Shaan’s name pop up. (Well actually he’s saved as “Shawn S” in her phone—a preventative measure against overly-curious June, never-me-a-boundary-he-didn’t-try-to-cross Alex, and too-smart-for-her-own-good Nora. She’ll change it once Ellen’s second term ends and she doesn’t have to interact with those assholes in person on a regular basis. (Shaan had laughed so hard he cried when he found out—Zahra had hit him with a pillow.))
5 minutes. See you soon, love.
>move that perfect ass srivastava
>i miss you and stuff
“Sorry about that,” she says to the bartender, a no-nonsense older woman. She runs the pub with kindness hiding an iron fist and Zahra liked her from the moment she sat down. “I will take another round, and can I also get a whiskey ginger?”
“Jack Daniels okay?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect.”
Another burst of screaming laughter covers the tinkle of the bell above the door, but the chilly gust of air at her back makes Zahra turn around. The smile that stretches her mouth at the sight of Shann is soft, loving, and completely involuntary. Thank fucking god Alex isn’t here right now. He’d never let her hear the end of how sappy she looks right now. (Alex once tried to high-five her for locking down that suave motherfucker and Zahra had given him a look that made him hide behind Henry.)
“Everything sorted then?” she asks, tipping her face up to meet Shaan’s. He kisses her quickly and sits on the stool next to her.
“Yeah. I finally got a hold of Gavin so that Alex can “sneak out” to the V&A with Henry tonight.”
“Thank god. Now I won’t have to listen to him freak out about the logistics of proposing anymore.”
Shaan just raises an eyebrow as he sips his drink. “He’ll just bother you about wedding details instead.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.”
“I am sorry I kept you waiting tonight.”
Zahra tips her head onto Shaan’s shoulder. “I’ve done it to you enough times. I get it.”
Shaan slings the hand not holding his glass around her waist. Zahra can feel the warmth of him even through their layers of clothing and slumps a little further into his space, utterly trusting him to keep them both upright. They stay like that for a while, not talking, just basking in the fact that they are together and free of their charges for the night. So often they are only in the same country because of some international policy issue. Zahra lets herself sink into the moment, reveling in the rare chance to just sit quietly at a bar with the man she loves.
“This is a good spot. Cozy. Quaint,” she eventually says, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.
“I’m glad you think so. It’s one of my favorite pubs in London.” He hesitates, eyes distant, then drops his voice and continues. “Arthur and Catherine used to sneak out and come here on dates, actually.”
“Oh?” Zahra sits up so she can look at him properly. He doesn’t talk about the time he was Arthur’s equerry that often, and she doesn’t want to miss anything. From what he has said, she can tell it was a similar relationship to the one she has with Ellen. Close friendship, fierce protectiveness, and a hold-nothing-back, bantering sense of humor—closer to family than employee and employer.
“They’d put on casual clothes and ballcaps and make a break for it when her mother got particularly overbearing. I followed discreetly—”
“Of course.”
“To make sure they had a back up plan. And then once Catherine got pregnant, they stopped pretending they didn’t know I was there and invited me to join them. The three of us spent many a late night here, just talking.”
“Sounds great.”
“It was. I—I miss him a lot. But it’s been a pleasure to watch Henry grow into himself. He’s more like Arthur than even he knows.”
He falls silent again, and Zahra smiles at the soft look on his face. He really is disgustingly handsome, people should be absurdly jealous of her life. She kisses the side of his neck, unable—unwilling—to hold in her affection any longer.
“Take me home?” she asks. “I want to not be wearing clothes with a zipper any more.”
“I’d be delighted, Ms. Bankston.”
#cricket writes#ficlet fest 500#rwrb#zahra bankston#shaan srivastava#otp: weaponized competence#thoughtsofthegirlwiththecurl#also some Arthur feels snuck in there#just crept in while I was looking the other way#whoops
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If you're still taking short prompts: "Before you say anything, this time it wasn't my fault." Thanks! Love the ones you've done so far!!
"Before you say anything, this time it wasn't my fault."
Zahra pinches that spot at the base of her neck that doctors swear can prevent a burgeoning headache; whatever scientific studies were conducted to test its efficacy, she knows for a fact they didn’t have ‘has to deal with Alex Claremont-Diaz’s bullshit’ as a control. “You wanna explain to me how press photos — not randoms with an iPhone, Alex, press — of the two of you stumbling out of a cupboard half-dressed isn’t your fault?”
“It was actually Henry who—“
“I’m going to stop you right there. I’ve seen your boyfriend buck-ass naked; that was enough information about him to last me a lifetime, thank you.”
[Send me an ask with the first sentence of a fic and I’ll write you the next five.]
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*pokes my head in* hi uhhh can i get uh. vexahra with a side of "loosing your mind when they tilt your chin to look you in the eye" pretty please
[Took a while to get to this one 'cause I needed a lil rest/got distracted doing Two for joy stuff. First time writing Vexahra, enjoy! <33]
“I think it looks stupid,” Vex insists with a huff, legs crossed. “I mean - ‘reject’? Really? Way to advertise the daddy issues, brother.”
Zahra shrugs, feigning focus on her ale. Vex is too used to appraisal to not notice she’s watching her, though. No matter how interesting the fly in her drink must really be.
(This doesn’t feel like Syngorn, though. No one else - man or elf or half-elf or half-boar - is watching. Just the tiefling sitting the bar, tail curling too close to Vex's wrist.)
She’s pretty sure she’s right when Zahra takes too long to respond. She covers it with a hum, brows knitting in disapproval - noticed the bug at last. “Well, darling,” says Zahra, “I’m not sure you’re one to talk.”
Vex tilts her head. Go on, then.
“So tragic.” Zahra mimes a pout, drawing a sad line from the corner of her eye with a fingertip, more claw than nail. “If you’re playing for sympathy, I’m sure it will work wonders, you poor thing.”
“Who doesn’t like a good sob story?” Vex purrs. “Just watch and learn - one look at this face and the contracts will be in hand. Every one.”
“Oh, by all means - you’ll need all the charm you can get.”
She gets double birds for that.
The tattoo was, really, more a reason to stick around with Vax while he got his done. An impulse, not quite thought through, that she’d love if - well. Nothing. The process itched more than anything, but the arcane artist noted that it would be easy enough to unwind the enchantment to remove them if ever.
Father certainly wouldn’t approve of this, if ever he wanted them back. Vex is undecided as to if she’d want his ire or his appreciation.
The tiefling stops indulging attention to her ale. She openly watches Vex now, swirling her tankard. If that fly isn’t dead, it’s certainly being taken for a ride. Like Vex, really, when Zahra places a hand on the bar and uses it to lean over Vex. Loom is a better word, she realizes, something heavy stuck in her throat. Was an unwanted guest in her drink, too? It certainly squirms.
“Actually,” says Zahra. “Let me get a better look.”
Vex rolls her eyes. “It’s not exactly that subtle-”
A fang of a nail slips under her chin, angle suitable for cutting throats, and Zahra slides even closer. The take is loud, louder than her heart in her chest. She’s been too deep in her cups - this human stuff is stronger than what she’s used to in Syngorn.
Oh.
Interesting. Okay.
Zahra smirks, angling her hold on Vex’s chin so the points of her claws press just behind the bony edge of her chin.
She’s not even looking at the fucking teardrop tattoo.
Vex is of half a mind to bite her, though she really can’t find a good justification for that.
So instead Vex surges up to kiss her, because that seems more in line with how those two fingers somehow hold her still. Because she’s going to paint those stupid red lips blue with her lipstick. Because fuck you, let me show you how charming I can be.
(The nail cuts a smooth line of pain, drawn from the underside of her jaw to the nape of her neck. Not enough to bleed, but enough to remember.)
#critical role#tlovm#the legend of vox machina#tlovm fanfic#tlovm fic#vexahra#for context this is set in my lil headcanon thots of what it was like when the Twins were part of the Take. including liberal Vexahra#vex'ahlia#zahra hydris#vex x zahra#ask game#fic prompt#my writing#FOR ANY OF THE PERC'AHLIA BABES. THEY ARE ALWAYS MY NUMBER ONE. BUT VEX DESERVES A LONG STRING OF EXES OKAY??? ESPECIALLY HOT WOMEN.#shes BI as hell anyone who says otherwise get off my blog you're not wanted
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It hit you like a shotgun shot to the heart
(@the-world-is-a-poem you said to tag you the next time I post anything I wrote so uh here haha. enjoy?)
The first time Zahra realised she loved Dawn
Zahra isn’t nervous that Dawn’s at her house for the first time. No! Not at all. Why would she be nervous? It’s just her stupid old house. She shouldn’t care what Dawn thinks of it. Doesn’t care.
Sure, she spends twenty minutes cleaning her room and the living room….and longer cleaning the dining room and the kitchen but that’s just because she doesn’t want Dawn to think she lives in a pigsty.
Though, Zahra doesn’t think Dawn would judge her, even if she did live in a pigsty. Dawn’s the only person outside of her family who’s been genuinely supportive after the whole…Chris mess. And she barely knows her.
Their friendship feels weird. Weird in a good way but���still weird. Zahra knows how Dawn’s breath evens out when she sleeps, knows exactly how to hold her to get her to sleep, knows how to calm her down after a panic attack, knows intimately about her recurring nightmares. Zahra knows that Dawn’s gay and her parents aren’t supportive of it or her at all, she knows that Dawn plays violin, she knows that Dawn’s sister inspired her to play guitar but she doesn’t know what Dawn’s favourite colour is, her favourite song or even when her birthday is. In some ways, Dawn feels like Zahra’s best friend. Other times, Zahra feels like she barely knows her at all, that this alliance they built up over the Christmas holidays is fragile, dependent on both of them having nightmares and waking up too early in the morning because of them.
Maybe that’s what this is. They’re walking a tightrope between true friends and almost-strangers and this, Zahra cracking her knuckles and shyly inviting Dawn to her house over the weekend, is the cut that will force them to one location.
If Zahra was nervous, this would be why.
But she’s not nervous. Not at all.
She runs to the door when she hears the bell rings. It’s early, early enough that Dad and Jessica haven’t left for the dance studio yet.
“Who’s that?” She yells, from the kitchen. Zahra doesn’t bother to deign her with an answer as she pulls open the door.
“Hi.” Dawn’s wearing a dark green flannel (which Zahra is starting to suspect is her favourite item of clothing because of how often she wore it at camp), a light-green t shirt and baggy jeans.
And Zahra’s not nervous but Dawn must see something on her face because her small smile fades into something concerned. “Is…is it okay that I came this early?”
“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine. Come in.” Zahra tugs Dawn inside just as Má comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “Má, this is my friend. Dawn.”
“Nice to meet you, Dawn,” Má smiles but Zahra can see the surprise on her face. Zahra rolls her eyes. She hasn’t really mentioned Dawn too much to her mum, just said vaguely that she made a few good friends at camp, because talking about Dawn means talking about school which means thinking about Chris and Zahra never wants to think about him ever again. He takes up enough space in her nightmares. “Where did you two meet?”
“We shared a dorm at camp—“ Zahra starts to say but Jason pushes past her, running like wild animals are chasing him. In reality it’s just one wild animal, Jessica, who’s screaming like a madwoman.
“Jason! Give me back my shoes I’m going to be late!”
“Say sorry for calling me a butthead!”
“No! You are a butthead!”
“Ay dios, guys! Can you stop acting like circus animals for two seconds of your life!” Zahra snaps, grabbing onto Jason’s arm as he tries to sprint around her again.
“Tell Jason that!” Jessica retorts, curls falling in her face. She’s going to have to redo her ponytail—there’s barely any of it left. “He’s the one acting like a butthead!”
“Stop calling me a butthead!”
“Stop acting like a butthead, then!”
“Stop saying butthead!” Zahra yells so, of course, Jason and Jessica turn to her and, at the top of their lungs, yell: “BUTTHEAD!”
“Mechi onu!” Luckily, Má can yell louder. “We have neighbours! It’s too early for this argument. Jason, finish your breakfast. Jessica, get your things, your Dad is waiting.” She pushes Jason towards the kitchen, snatching Jessica’s shoes back as she does so. “Lovely to meet you, Dawn! If you need anything, let me know, okay?” She adds, in her normal, cheerful voice. Zahra will never understand how she fluctuates between Angry Mother and Gracious Hostess so quickly.
“Sorry about the chaos. Sometimes I think my parents adopted Jessica and Jason from a farm,” Zahra says, as they go up the stairs to her room. Dawn laughs, loud and sudden.
“It makes things exciting, though, doesn’t it?”
“If by exciting, you mean ‘headache-inducing’ then, yeah! You’re right!”
Dawn laughs again and Zahra thinks it might just be her new favourite sound.
Dawn stops in the doorway of Zahra’s room. Zahra raises her eyebrows.
“What are you doing?”
“Just…looking.”
Zahra snorts. “Why? It’s just my room. There’s nothing wildly interesting about it.”
“I disagree. You are a very interesting person, Zahra Jiménez,” Dawn smiles. Something stirs in Zahra’s stomach. She ignores it, flopping down on her bed and leaning against the headboard as Dawn slowly traces her shelves.
“You won something?” She asks, pointing at the trophy. “Was it a music thing?”
“Nah it was—uh—dance.” Zahra had forgotten about it, almost hadn’t packed it when they left Aramoor because she’d thrown it into the corner of her small room in a fit of rage when she’d first expressed her desire to stop dance and Pa hadn’t taken it…amazingly. It was the last thing she’d achieved, dance-wise, before she quit and, as a result, it holds some rather bittersweet memories.
“You danced?” Dawn says, eyebrows raised because—right, Zahra hadn’t told her. It’s not a topic she loves talking about.
“Yeah, well. When you’re the daughter of the great Mateo Jiménez, there are some things you can’t escape.” Zahra looks down, picking at the hem of her joggers. “I stopped when I was eleven.”
“That’s when you started playing violin, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you ever won anything for that? For music?”
Zahra snorts, then clears her throat. “D’you want to watch a movie? I have Netflix on my laptop.”
Dawn hesitates, an unreadable look in her eye, but it’s gone before Zahra can try and decipher it. She nods, stepping forward but still straying close to the doorway. “Can we watch Pride and Prejudice?”
Zahra rolls her eyes fondly. “You’re obsessed with that movie.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”
Zahra shakes her head and reaches for her laptop. Dawn stays where she is, eyes swivelling around the room, never landing in one place for more than a couple of seconds. She looks restless in a way Zahra hasn’t seen since the first days of camp. When Zahra entered the dorm and Dawn’s smile was small and shaky, like she thought Zahra would reject her on principle, like she was worried about Zahra’s reaction, like…like…like….
Like she was nervous.
Dawn’s nervous.
So Zahra pats the space next to her and smiles as softly as she can. “You’re gonna watch it from all the way over there?”
And Dawn returns the smile, clambering next to Zahra on the bed. Halfway into the movie, she leans on Zahra, tentatively, as if Zahra will push her away if she gets too close. Instead, Zahra wraps her arm around Dawn’s shoulders, pulling her closer. She’s engulfed in that same, familiar scent from camp—something earthy and sweet and quintessentially Dawn.
She likes it.
And, afterwards, when the film ends and they spend half an hour bickering about what they’re going to watch next, all Zahra can think about is how she hasn’t felt this comfortable since…Aramoor. She can’t help but think about how natural this feels, when they go down to the kitchen and Zahra heats up the first thing she can find in the fridge for Dawn, when Dawn insists that Zahra eat too, when they go back up to Zahra’s room and sit cross-legged across each other on the floor. When Dawn smiles up at her, Zahra feels something warm burst in her chest because…the tightrope is gone. It snapped somewhere between Zahra inviting Dawn in and seeing her laugh at Jessica and Jason’s antics and asking so gently about the trophy, saying ‘you won something?’ but meaning ‘I want to know you, please dear god let me know you’ and Zahra being able to read Dawn’s eyes well enough to know the words she’s not saying and holding each other while Mr Darcy confessed his love for Elizabeth Bennett and ribbing each other for their taste in movies and now, sitting on Zahra’s bedroom floor eating leftover mac and cheese.
In the silence, Zahra feels it, that quiet certainty. They’re friends now. Proper friends.
It feels good.
She smiles back at Dawn. She says nothing but her eyes shine with all the words she wants to say: thank you for coming and I want you to come again if anything so I can give you a better lunch than yesterday’s dinner and I want to know you too and I hope we keep getting closer.
I love you. Please, dear god, let me love you.
#I was proud of it so here it is#otp: I never knew I could feel this much#oc: zahra#oc: dawn#bri writes#(haven't done that in a while lol)#title from getaway car by the legend herself t swift
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Six Sentence Sunday 28/01/24
Hey, guess what?
It's another Six Sentence Sunday!
Made all the more exciting by the fact that the wedding fic might start posting soon! Like, this week soon! You'd better have a Sunday Six in preparation, huh?
“You good?” she asks and he nods, letting out a long breath.
“Yeah,” he says and she glances behind him.
“There’s at least five cars out front and I can hot-wire two of them if you need a getaway car,” she offers and he laughs. The camera clicks nearby.
“I don’t need it, I promise. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be,” he tells her and she smiles at him.
“I know. Still, I had to put the offer out there,” she says.
As always, if you like what you read, please check out my work on Ao3. The wedding fic is part of my Heavy Weighs the Crown series which started with Give Me Comfort, Give Me Help, followed by the prequel, But Still My Griefs Are Mine. Please subscribe, share, bookmark or comment if you like my work, I live for the validation of strangers.
Until next time x
#rwrb fic#red white and royal blue#writing#alex claremont diaz#firstprince#alex/henry#my fic#alex x henry#alex claremont-diaz#acd#zahra bankston#rwrb six sentence sunday#six sentence sunday
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Make. Me. Write!!!
i was tagged by: @writer-in-theory
Rules and Regulations:
Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count)
Tag anyone you think might also enjoy this game (No pressure of course)
Whichever WIP title gets the most votes write 1 sentence for every vote. If it gets more votes than your comfortable with, feel free to swap to words.
If somehow that completes the fic or reaches the end of the chapter, move to the WIP with the second highest votes and continue where you left off on your sentence/word count. Repeat until you reach your goal.
(Optional) Share what you wrote in a new Tumblr post with a link to your original poll or attached it to a reblog
idk why but i feel the need to give a lil backstory or explanation of some sort for each one so you know what you're getting into 🫡
backstories and np tags under the cut 🫶🏻🧡
Cowboy!Steve Harrington wip
this one's self explanatory, you can go read the first three fics in this series over on my nsfw blog, @hornyhornyhimbos 🖤✨️
JBU (Reidaway)
so, i teased this series a little bit when SYGB ended but i never really fully committed to writing it because i have a set beginning but i have no clue what to do for the ending 😬
i'm not gonna spoil it because y'all know me, i'm a writer and i have to tease everything but let's just say it involves forced proximity, sorta work rivals to maybe lovers, and black cat!elle greenaway x golden retriever!spencer reid <3
Eat Your Young (Spencer Reid)
i can't explain this much other than that i was extremely h word when i came up with the plot for this and i was playing "Eat Your Young" by Hozier on repeat when it happened
I'm Too Pretty For This (Warren Rojas)
this was a request i got like two months ago when i first announced i was gonna be writing for DJATS characters and i got like two paragraphs in and i hated it so i never finished it 😂
basically something happens between the band members of the group that are opening for DJATS on the Aurora tour and it somehow makes their lead singer realize she might have a thing for Warren 😏
AFTR (Steve Harrington)
this will be my first serious Steve series. i know that the Loriverse exists and the Cowboyverse exists but this one is actually a serious series that i wanted to write for the summer and i just never did
a brief summary without giving too much away is that Stancy happens but doesn't last and somehow Reader/FMC (haven't decided which yet) ends up spending the summer as Steve's rebound of sorts?
LMLAF rewrite (Hotchniss)
so, a few of you may remember this series i posted back in February of 2022. i was extremely depressed and lonely so i did what any normal human would... i wrote a story about Hotchniss being friends with benefits.
however, that story was posted on this account, where I do not post smut. well, other than that one chapter of SYGB but we don't need to go there rn akshksjsjsj
anyway, basically this would be the spicier rewritten version of that where i don't leave readers in the dark about what went on between Hotchniss after Haley died ;)
All Your Being, pt 2 (Spencer Reid)
another fic i wrote where i tried desperately to keep things closed door until now when i decided i don't care about that anymore 😂
in case you guys don't remember this fic, i'll link it here but basically Spencer and midsized!reader have been together for six months but have yet to do the nasty because she's afraid of what he'll think about her body. this part two would basically just be him saying f!ck it and showing her that every body is a beautiful body 🫶🏻
Tolerate It (Spencer Reid)
just go listen to "tolerate it" by Taylor Swift. it would be easier for you to do that than for me to tell you about the dark sh!t that ensued in this fic... i was at my lowest low when i wrote this and you'll see that if i ever post it 🥲
well now that that's over with, how bout some no pressure tags!! 🥳🎉
@reidsbookclub @dungeons-are-too-cold @nomajdetective @bejeweledmunson @rupsmorge @reidselle @lukeclvez @lcvingprentjss @serenity-lattes @writingquillsandpainpills
#writing#writing challenge#tag#tag game#tag games#writing tag#wip#wips#my wips#wip game#grecy 🌻#georgia 🌈#ali ⚡️#mads ❣️#rups 🍇#aj 🦭#marie 💥#cj 🌙#reni ☕️#zahra 🎃#my auroras 🪩✨️#emmy writes
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Prompt #30: Sojourn
When Zahra Murheen was very young, her dancer’s feet itched to see new lands and meet new people. So she joined a trade trip across the strait to Corvos, despite her mother’s protests.
“You’ll understand, when you’ve daughters of your own,” her mother sighed, but didn’t stop her. How could she, when she had wandered far in her own youth? Zahra was yet untethered to hearth and home. Now was the time to allow her traveler’s heart to wander free.
She traveled through Corvos, Dalmasca, and Nanxia, in those halcyon days when Garlemald was yet a northern nation no one knew nor cared much about.
She fell in love with her brother’s friend, traveling the trade routes with them, and eventually returned home, belly beginning to swell with their first son, the rumors of coming war on the mainland whispering behind them as they returned to their bright island, foreign travels complete.
This was home, and while glad to have seen more, she was happier to remain.
—
When Emelia Ranaz was young, her bard’s heart yearned to see new lands and meet new people. She convinced her cousin to take her along on his trade trip to Eorzea. She heard the land was soaked in aether due to the source of all magic flowing from the lake near its heart. She heard that true bards sang among the trees of its giant mystical forest.
Zahra sighed, but did not try to stop her youngest daughter; how could she, when she too had traveled in her youth? Emelia scorned the attentions of the suitors who tried to woo her; she was yet young, untethered and free to live for herself.
“Do not worry for me, Mama,” Emelia laughed on the docks of Yedlihmad.
“How can I not?” Zahra asked, kissing her cheek. “You’ll understand, when you’ve daughters of your own.”
—
When Zahra Ranaz was in her late middle years, she waited at the gates of Davarresh, watching the western road. The sun sank low beyond the mountains, its last orange light dazzling her eyes. But she continued to watch, waiting on her nephew’s cart and the precious cargo it carried.
What should have been a brief journey had become nearly thirteen years of letters and a life lived far away, in a cold northern land where the people saw dragons as enemies instead of divinities. Where her daughter, who here had scorned every would-be lover, had built a family.
A selfish part of Zahra was glad her daughter was coming home, bringing her children with her. But Merciful Sisters, that her baby had to know such heartbreak to make it so!
The wagon came into view, and she trembled in anticipation. They were still yalms away from the gate when a familiar—yet not—woman leapt from the front seat and dashed into Zahra’s open arms.
“Mama!” Emelia sobbed into her shoulder; relief, happiness, and grief striking her all at once.
“You’re home,” Zahra whispered, holding her tight. “Your journey is complete, my love.”
—
When Aeryn Striker was young, her adventurous spirit wished to travel to new lands at her brother’s side, beginning with the realm of their birth.
Her mother wouldn’t let her.
“You’ll understand, when you’ve daughters of your own,” Emelia said, through the tears and shouting on both sides.
Zahra would not interfere, but privately felt Emelia was wrong. After all, hadn’t they both traveled in their youths, learning more of the world and themselves?
Yet Zahra’s adventures in Ilsabard and Othard had turned out differently than the idyllic years Emelia had spent in Coerthas—a life ripped away by an ancient war that she had spent everything to get her children away from.
And now they wanted to return to that chaotic land.
Emelia had a daughter of her own—and feared for the heartbreak of losing her, for the heartbreak her girl might suffer in her journey. She couldn’t stop Zaine—that boy lived to be contrary in his oddly affable way—but she could stop Aeryn.
Zahra was disappointed when Aeryn gave in to her mother’s demands, hoping that despite everything, her granddaughter found her happiness someday.
—
When Emelia Eadir passed away, Aeryn left on her own adventures. Older than her grandmother and mother had been, yet still untethered to hearth or home, oblivious to the advances of would-be suitors. She left to find her brother, but her dancer’s feet and bard’s heart also ached to learn new songs, to meet new people, to see new sights.
Zahra said her goodbyes, watching as the cart carried Aeryn west to Yedlihmad.
She had the feeling that this journey would not be a short one.
—
When Zahra Ranaz was very old, her granddaughter returned to Thavnair.
It was only for a visit.
This was no longer Aeryn Striker’s home; she was yet untethered to any one land or location, her adventurer’s spirit leading her from one place to the next, as free as the wind and water she had ever been attuned to.
If she was tied to anything, it was to the people she traveled with, a family of circumstance and choice, their bonds stronger for it.
They came and went as need and whimsy both took them, helping anyone they could, saving the world through actions small and large. And when their great mission was finished, they scattered across the world, physically separate but hearts ever aligned, always ready to answer each others’ calls.
Zahra smiled; her own traveling days were long behind her, yet hearing Aeryn’s stories—hearing stories of Aeryn—she felt that old itch in her own feet. Or perhaps simply a feeling akin to it, willing now to merely sympathize and live vicariously through those tales.
She watched as Aeryn strode away, to wherever her next adventure took her, not knowing when she might return—and at peace with that.
With the western sun in her eye, Zahra offered a prayer on Aeryn’s behalf:
“May your journey never end.”
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happy 69th vex/zahra fic on ao3, have some angst
takes place during c1e81, after the Thordak-Raishan fight. also on ao3
Back in Thordak’s lair, you take the time to look Zahra up and down. She has burns all up one arm, and a million cuts and bruises just like the rest of you, but she’s whole, and alive. Her lovely white hair is all dirty with soot. You think she might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
You try very hard not to cry as you hug her. She accepts your embrace eagerly, but you both wince as your pains flare up.
“Darling, careful.”
“I know,” you say. You try to catch your breath. Everything hurts so badly, and there is some strange emptiness in you. The feeling worsens as the two of you step away from each other.
You look at her. She looks back at you. Darling, you think, and the reverberations of her voice in your mind make you want to fly back into her arms again, injuries be damned.
It used to piss you off, the way she said darling. Her accent a bit like yours, but so mocking. How her lips rounded out the word. You used to feel threatened by her; you can recognize that now. Both of you have moved past your petty rivalry now, thank the gods. You hear her voice in your head, before you split off to kill Thordak: I love you. If I can find you, I will.
She loves you.
You look at her, her singed hair, the perfect curve of her horns. The blood dripping down her cheek. Feelings surge up suddenly, huge and muddled and insistent: gratitude. Guilt. Admiration.
But mostly: you love her too. It’s painful how much. It feels like claws in your chest.
If I can find you, I will, she’d said. If not, stay alive.
Well.
She doesn’t need to know. You don’t need to tell her.
“I used your arrow,” you say quietly in her ear. “I saw the note. Thank you.”
She winks at you. “Don’t mention it, love.”
She says love like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t fucking cost her anything. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe love only hurts you; maybe it tastes like sugar on her tongue even though it tastes like blood on yours.
And now you’re thinking about tongues — about teeth — about Zahra’s tongue, Zahra’s teeth —
Gods, you want to kiss her.
But you glance over at Percy, and at Kash, and you taste the blood in your mouth. And you flatten your lips and simply give her a tight nod before you return to your brother’s side.
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replaying fe3h and i firmly firmly believe that it is a crime thay sylvain doesn't get more a-level supports--though i'm sure this has been said before
and yeah, something something analysis of his character and how he tends to keep most people at arm's length and has trouble with true sincerity (just watched sylvain and lysithea's b support where this is briefly addressed) but like...
maybe they could have added a mechanic after a certain support or an additional part 2 paralogue for sylvain where a supports could be locked off until they're completed because he's not mature enough, willing enough, responsible enough, etc to connect with the people he engages with. but after the paralogue or whatever (really keen on the paralogue idea though) he starts that growth that leads him to become margave gautier
listen...homie doesn't even have an a support with dimitri and he grew up with him, right? how messed up is that? surely the major beats of their relationship doesn't end with sylvain hiding dimitri from a girl???
hmm hmm anyway i've grown very attached to sylvain and his untapped narrative potential and also he's my dancer on this playthrough plus rng somehow managed to turn him into a magical dancing monster and he always ends up on the front lines because i know he'll wreck everyone
#fire emblem three houses#fe3h#sylvain jose gautier#fire emblem#analysis#take what you will from this#but this is just barely scratching the surface of my thoughts about how much narrative potential in general we are missing in three houses#i am feeling very strongly about wanting to learn more about the crests and hero relics#i also came back to a theory i had about why cursed beasts form around people who don't have crests but are wielding or affected by a crest#or something artifically created to mimic a crest#also rewatching the scene where solon uses kronya as a sacrifice for the zahras spell?? and whatever he pulled out#looked and sounded suspiciously like a crest stone??#which was likely something reverse-engineered by twsitd and thw agarthans#rofl anyway hit me up if you want to hear my ramblings on that too#and i'll make a post sooner rather than later#also i have dorovain brainrot and i'm writing a little something for them in between busy times
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hiiii this is for the ficlet fest !!!! shaan srivastava, the white house, 3:14am 😎
thank you for the prompt! i haven't written shaan's POV before, so this was really cool. enjoy! 💜🦗
want your own ficlet? TWO DAYS LEFT rules here.
❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙
white house, 3:14am
“Are you done packing your office?” Shaan asks, coming up behind Zahra and dropping a kiss to the nape of her neck.
“I’ve been packed for a week, Srivastava, you know that.”
Shaan hums. He does know that. The neatly stacked boxes of her things have already been whisked away by the efficient White House resident staff earlier tonight.
“If you’re fishing about my mental state about tomorrow being the Inauguration for the next president and therefore the end of Ellen Claremont’s time in the White House, you’re doing a piss poor job of it.”
He pulls her closer. Her words are all prickle and fire, but her body sags into his, letting Shaan hold her steady for once.
“I figured I’d give you an opening if you wanted to take it.”
Zahra just sighs, looking around at her (almost former) office. All of Zahra’s files and extra clothes and knick-knacks that Alex buys her that she pretends not to keep, are gone – only the furniture remaining. The room seems to be slumbering, or maybe holding its breath, ready for the next occupant.
“Ask me again in a week. I’ll be bored of downtime by then.”
“Deal.”
There’s a clatter in the hallway, then loud shushing noises and the careful click of a door. Shaan moves the pair of them to the doorway, curious as to who else is moving around the West Wing at three in the morning but— Ah, he should have guessed.
Through the door to the veranda, a pair of young men’s silhouettes are visible in the moonlight on the way to the garden. Alex is in front, one of his hands tangled with one of Henry’s, leading the way. Shaan drops a kiss on the top of Zahra’s head, overcome with pride for the pair of them.
Zahra makes a noise somewhere between disbelief and delight. “Those sappy little shits.”
“I wouldn’t throw stones, love – they aren’t the only ones doing a grand farewell tour of this place.”
“Yeah, but I do it with class,” she says, spinning in his arms and throwing her own over his neck. It’s been four years since he proposed, but Shaan still tracks the glint of the diamond on her engagement ring with a rush of joy. It’s even stronger since it was joined by her wedding ring last year.
Zahra rises up on her toes and he ducks his head to make it easier for her to kiss him. It’s a quick kiss, more of a peck, but she says so much with her body that never makes it past her lips. Shaan’s spent so long learning this silent language of hers, that it’s easy to parse the love and relief and exhaustion and sadness that she pushes into his mouth. He gathers all of it up and tucks it into his own heart – he’ll carry it for her for a while. For as long as she wants him to.
“Let’s go – for once I don’t have to commute here in the morning, we should make the most of it.”
“After you,” he says, stepping back and letting her lead the way toward the Residence. She reaches one hand back to tangle her fingers through his.
#cricket writes#ficlet fest 3#rwrb#red white and royal blue#shaan pov#ficlet#post canon#gayheartstoppernerd#something something zahra and alex are more similar than they'll ever admit#and shaan and henry are long suffering about that fact
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Shaan/Zahra please?
FULLY EPISTOLARY, BABY. Emails and texts and anything else I can shoehorn in there, from cakegate to… the election, maybe? Definitely post-leaks anyway. Gonna drag @lilythesilly along for the ride writing this one with me whether she likes it or not probably 😂
[WIP ask game]
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Two for joy - Chapter 22
[This one can be read without context of the other chapters! It’s some Perc’ahlia elopement fluff, with a couple AU twists here n there <33]
“Maybe this was a bad idea.”
Percy, on the bed, hums. “Then it was a bad idea.”
“But we can’t not send someone-”
“This is your father we’re talking about, yes? I say it’s perfectly good for him to be stood up.”
Vex’s exhale is knocked further from her lungs with each step as she keeps pacing. When she reaches the opposite wall, the desk, she turns on her heel, running her hand over the length of her braid. “This isn’t just about him, Percy - it will hurt Whitestone too if no ambassador turns up. Or if it looks like I chickened out -”
“Then we’ll weather it.” It’s almost frustrating how calm he is about this when everything is almost ringing in Vex’s ears. On them, snagging on the points of them, where they might glide off rounder or sharper ones.
She hears the bed shift, his book find its place on the side table. She keeps pacing, looking at her feet - one, two, three, four; one, two, three, four - because there’s so much moving in her chest that her legs and arms and hands and mouth want to writhe in sympathy, and if she’s marching into that city again at least she can get some practice in and - one, two, three -
“Vex.” He catches her on the turnaround, hands raised like he means to hold her arms. She bumps into his chest and latches on - Percy adapts easily enough to hold her.
“Vex’ahlia,” Percy murmurs into her forehead, before she digs her nose into his shoulder. He smells different, now - less of his terrors follow him to waking, and more of his little pleasures. Tea. Bookdust. Fresh air. Sheets - their sheets. “As Mr.Vessar knows all too well, you are -”
“Baroness of the Third House of Whitestone and Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt,” she says as he does. Her smirk spreads ever broader with each syllable.
He chuckles. “Exactly. You are incredibly important. Very busy. Who knows - something could have come up, and we are so dreadfully sorry, have… I don’t know. Jarett. Jarett can play ambassador for a day in your stead.”
“You would need to give him a bonus.”
“The treasury can handle it.”
He holds her until the caged animal in her chest has, impossibly, grown to love the space. It feels like home, between her ribs - like he’s cradled in here, and not pressing sparse kisses to her hair.
[One for sorrow] [Ch1] [Keep reading on AO3]
#I love them. so much your honor. i gave them the very softest elopement i could. they deserve it. they're SO stinkin cute#she love he so much.... he love she so much.... they're such impulsive doorknobs bc their loud hearts drown out their minds#they nEVER THOUGHT THEYD GET A LOVE LIKE THIS#critical role#critical role fanfiction#cr fanfic#perc'ahlia#perchalia#vex'ahlia#percival de rolo#percy de rolo#cassandra de rolo#zahra hydris#my writing#fluff
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I love you in the way that you’re my big sister and you loved me first, before you even knew me. I love you in the way that you’re my big sister, it’s all I’ve ever known to do. I love you in the way that I wish I knew you, I wish you talked to me, I wish you wanted to get to know me. I love you in the way that I’m desperate for your approval, desperate for the notes haphazardly scribbled in the margin of your life, desperate for you to see me. I love you in the way that makes me wish I could honestly say that you were my first friend but I know the time you get up in the morning and the names of your best friends and your favourite Taylor Swift album but I don’t know your favourite colour. That feels like something I should know about my big sister.
Sometimes, you don’t feel like my big sister. Sometimes I think you’re a storm, roaring and glaring and slamming doors in my face until you’ve successfully blown me away. Sometimes I think you’re a wave, higher than the sky until you come crashing down, so close but so far, so near but so distant. Sometimes, I think you’re a stranger. Sometimes, it feels like we’re connected by blood and nothing else. Sometimes, it feels like that’s all we’ll ever be.
I love you in the way that you’re my big sister and if I didn’t love you, I’d feel nothing. And then we really would be strangers.
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Is it safe to assume that there were multiple writers in 3H with each writing a different route? It could explain some of the inconsistencies especially with regards to handling sensitive topics.
TBH,
That's what some people were wondering,but tbh after Nopes I wonder if it's that case, or if the writers only wanted to tackled traditional themes and storytelling in one route, and wanted to try to uwu with the other two (3?).
I think I mentionned it way earlier when FE16 and Nopes were released, but it feels like, idk, a tier list between character A and character B, when the people supporting character A make a very detailed sheet taking into account the lore, world mechanics and all, and the ones supporting character B just go "they have a big sword lol" and Character B wins because that list wasn't objective to start with.
Like, say, if in one route a lord has to face a rebellion from his lords who don't support him and support an usurper, and has to piece back his fractured land, has to compete with a route where a lord starts a coup and rebellion are dealt with off-screen without consequences, or where the rebellious lors are just rekt'd in a side story but without anything mention regarding popular support or uprisings...
That's Dimitri (and arguably Rhea) in the Fodlan verse, vs Supreme Leader and Clout.
A fwend made a meme about this with the three headed dragon regarding Nopes's writing after the interview from the devs, it's the 3 headed dragon meme, with two stupid heads and one serious head - the two stupid heads were "uwu unification" and "uwu cute girls" while the serious head was "I wanted to depict a more realist setting where I could develop chivalry" - it says everything imo.
(poor AM/AG writer :( )
#anon#replies#3 nopes#i hope that writer found another company#where he can thrive and not bash his head against a wall when the other two told him#“your character and ours will have to reach an agreement after the zahras chapter and he can't kill them”#maybe they forced him to accept Dimitri's writing in Zahras at gunpoint or something#fodlan nonsense
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