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aerialflight · 3 years

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Fic Rec (it's been too long and I read a whole lot of fics)

I've read so many fics these past couple of months and my need to share them to the world has seized me by the throat. Please enjoy and support these fanfic writers! They are the best. XD

[Naruto]

Nine-Tailed Foxes are Dead by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Shikamaru/Naruto

For Konoha, it's been one month since the preliminary Chunin exams. For Naruto, it's been six. And he wasn't in Konoha.

At the end of his ordeal, Naruto walks into the Chunin Exam finals without his left arm.

Shikamaru is very concerned. And, eventually, very precious to Naruto as they work together to solve the mysteries of Konoha and bring kindness to the Shinobi world, one adventure at a time.

(I would die for this fic. I know the summary sounds doom and gloom but IT'S NOT. This fic made me fucking cry, I don't think I've ever read a fic that characterized Naruto so right. He's so full of hope and love and develops into the best version of himself and I'm so HERE FOR IT. And it's not just Naruto, Shikamaru is absolutely amazing here along with Kakashi and surprise surprise Ino, I can't BELIEVE it took me this long to stumble across this fic. Also THE WORLDBUILDING IS TO DIE FOR!!! And the plot! Is! So! Interesting! Just, everything about this fic is just amazing so please PLEASE read this!!!)

The End of the Uchiha by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Naruto/Sasuke

“I promise, little electric spirit of this shrine,” he whispered into the soft dirt and fallen leaves, “I will never gain the eyes. I will never pass them on. And I will make sure the eyes end in my brother, so that they can’t hurt anybody anymore. I will be the last Uchiha, and see to the end of the Copy-Wheel Clan. Then all of the hatred here can stop, and my family can rest peacefully. I promise, little shrine.”

Sasuke is more than his brother thinks he is. He's more than any Uchiha has ever been. He will kill his brother, but it will not be vengeance.

It will be mercy.

(Same author as the one above, they are the gift that keeps on giving. Seriously, HOW did I NEVER FIND THESE FICS before now??? One of life's greatest mysteries. The author's sense of humor is so on point here along with the atmospheric writing that's so vivid in the mind. Their writing style is so recognizable to me now and makes me fall into the world they're creating, it's stunning. Sasuke here makes me want to hug him and the idea of him living like a feral ghibli character has me LIVING. Check the tags of the fic, all of it is true, hand to god. Please give all of the author's fics a shot, it's a rabbit hole I'm thankful I fell into!)

mil fantasmas (gritan en calma) by LegaciesandMemories

Post-Tsukuyomi, something in Uchiha Sasuke's mind shatters. The same night, Yamanaka Ino falls asleep and doesn't wake up for 15 days.

---

In which Ino and Sasuke both wake from the aftermath of the Uchiha Massacre with the ability to see ghosts, and no one is prepared for the fallout.

(This fic has arrested my curiosity and eagerness to know what will happen next. These poor kids need so many hugs and Ino is getting the spotlight she deserves. I am so excited for this fic and what it has in store! Please read! XD)

Lichtenberg Figures by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Name: Kakashi Hatake Rank: Jounin Status: Missing Nin Missing Since: June 15th, 271 AD Note: Flee on Sight . . . Haburashi looked his team in the eyes— three, fresh out of the Academy genin— and resolved to teach them as best as he could. And right now, his lesson was simple: “Stay. Away. From. Kakashi. Hatake.”

(Dimension travel fic with a slice of Kakashi being an absolute troll and dealing with the shitty hand he's been dealt with. Seriously, the man has the worst luck in all of Konoha. Also, the mystery of the other Kakashi's history has me leaning by the edge of my seat, I need to know.)

The Governess by Ysmirel

Ship: Kakashi/OFC

"“What,” he finally asked, “is so funny?”

Ibara bit her lower lip to keep the chuckles in, still smiling and making absolutely no effort to get more space between them, seemingly perfectly at ease within reach of a trained shinobi. Her self-control wasn't all that good, as she ended up snorting and was overcame once again by another fit of laughter. “I just- It's just-” She struggled to speak, trying to catch her breath and wiping away tears of mirth with the hand that wasn't still holding onto his vest. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said, with a smile that was all teeth and without a hint of her previous drunken stupor, “and who's going to believe you?”

As he stood there, stunned by her words and change in demeanor, he realized with dawning horror that she was right."

In which Kakashi finds himself at the other end of the troll shtick, and he doesn't appreciate it all that much.

(It's so hard to find self-insert fics with a fresh concept these days, especially in the naruto fandom. Not that I don't enjoy and devour a lot of self insert fics like it's going out of style, but it's just so nice to find something new and shiny and really damn good. I'm so pumped for this fic and how it's going to develop so please join me in rooting for this fic!)

half a league (until the valley of death) by SpectersShadow117

Kakashi can think of no reason for Sasuke's inexplicable and drastic change in behavior. He doesn't like the desperate, haunted gleam in his student's eyes, and he also doesn't like the nagging feeling that he's missing something very important. Aka: Future Sasuke goes to Past Sasuke and gives him a reality check with Specific Intentions, but as with most Uchiha, his methods leave much to be desired. (Featuring: Childhood trauma FTW, Konoha's shitty care of orphans, and absolutely no one having a fun time.)

(Sasuke wanting to change the future out of complete and utter spite has me LIVING. Sasuke is such a Mess here and the twist on the time travel premise is so good and the kid is so Traumatized and Desperate and Not Having A Good Time. Naruto and Sakura developing as better ninjas and Kakashi trying his best makes me want to scream. Also, how Sasuke thinks about Itachi makes me want to cackle. I am 100% down for this. I am rooting for this kid, go get them! XD)

[Harry Potter]

fruit loops in time (circle around me) by justprompts

Ships: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius

"This is Crabbe, and Goyle," the blonde boy says, pointing at the two boys next to him. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Ma - "

Ron laughs, and Malfoy immediately bristles.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Malfoy says, angrily. "No need to ask yours - "

"You're honestly so cute," Ron interrupts, yet again, shaking his head. "So tiny. And so angry, all the time. It's adorable."

Alternatively Ron Weasley, Time Traveller Extraordinaire, is stuck in the same seven year Hogwarts Loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. Naturally, he's so done with everything.

(This is the greatest hp fic I've ever read. I LOVE RON WEASLEY and by the time you read this fic SO WILL YOU!! This is the fic I WISH I have the ability to write. I read this entire fic aloud to my brother and we spent literal hours howling and talking about how utterly insane and incredible this fic is, it's amazing. This is hands down my favorite Ron Weasley. You Can Pry This Fic From My Cold Dead Fingers.)

[Boku no Hero Academia]

Kacchan's Cult by Ourliazo

Pro Hero Ground Zero is attacked, originally meant to be de-aged out of existence by a desperate villain but is instead launched into his 14-year-old self.

But Katsuki is a fucking pro so whatever, time to fuck up someone's day. And sure, maybe he's only one man, but that's why he conscripts the entirety of the UA student body into tearing down some criminal empires.

(It's time travel, crack, and Bakugou being his usual explody, competent self. What more in life do you want? Seriously though, please read. I'm obsessed with this fic and having a Good Time!)

Cleaning Crew; Teaching Kids to Value their Safety, for Fun and Profit by Reavv

Takenaka Hideo is a thirty-two year old, in mild desperation for money, who has just been hired as a new janitor for UA's support staff. He has a quirk that lets him find lost objects, a liaison with the police because of it, and desperate desire for competent co-workers.

Oh, and he's already lived a previous life, in a world where quirks and heroes didn't even exist.

Not a big deal, though. It's not like you ever see the janitor playing a big part in action movies. He's here to get paid, and that's it.

On the opposite side of the equation, class 1-A has to wonder at the new UA cryptid that always seems to show up when things are on fire, and who keeps trying to convince them to let the adults handle the fire extinguisher.

(A great deal of fun packed into one fic. That is how I title this fic and nothing will change my mind! Hideo just wants to quietly do his job and not get in the way. I Relate. Please read!)

Poltergeist by WriterGreenReads

Class 1-A is haunted.

Well, not really.

I AM dead, though.

World's friendliest poltergeist, at your service.

(I don't know how I got so sucked into OC fics, but I found some fantastic fics along the way so I have no regrets. The author really tries to push the premise and I just love all the interactions and dynamics that form as the fic gets further in. And the OC character and all the hijinks they get up to cracks me up! At the same time, it's pretty heartwarming and it's practically a friendships galore fic! Definitely recommend it!)

invincible by supercrunch for Engrin

Ship: Bakugou/Midoriya

This is the way the world works: the sun rises in the east. The strong come out on top. Bakugou Katsuki rockets through life like a comet and Midoriya Izuku stumbles after. If he believed in such things Katsuki would say it was written in the stars. That some god of war had looked at him and said this one. That he’d been passed along a line to get his blessings – genius, willpower, fearless ambition – and dropped off on earth.

Then, of course, there is the question of Deku. The spitfire runt. Deku, no matter what the world does to him, never stops hoping.

Until, of course, he eventually does.

(Katsuki broke him. Snapped him in half like a twig and now has to scramble to put Deku back together. “We can do this, Deku," he says slowly. "There are so many mysteries that never got put to bed. Criminals roaming around looking to hurt people and you and me, we can fix that.”

There’s a long pause. The comforter slips a little off Deku’s skinny shoulders and drowns him. “You mean like a team?”

In that split second, Katsuki makes a decision he’s never even considered. He swallows his pride. “Yeah, Deku. We’d be a team.”)

(If there was any other way canon could've gone, this is the story I would've wanted. It's perfect.)

Inadvertent Wilderness Therapy by Cacid

Following an unfortunate encounter with a teleporter on the last day of internships, Bakugou Katsuki and Hakamata Tsunagu spend some quality time in northern Canada.

In no particular order they will: build ugly survival shelters, stalk rabbits, run from polar bears, reflect on the chemical composition of trees, insult each other, and complain about krumholtz.

(THESE TWO. TOGETHER. IN THE WILDERNESS. IN FUCKING CANADA OF ALL PLACES. I still can't believe this fic actually exists and just how INVESTED I became in their relationship. Blue Jeanist instantly became my favorite ranked hero with this fic alone. HIS SENSE OF HUMOR IS TERRIBLE, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH FNIEWOPAF. BAKUGOU DOES TOO. IT'S FUCKING INCREDIBLE. *incoherent screeching into the wild*)

[Stranger Things]

Baci D'aria by RabbitDarling

“Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.” ― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

Steve learned a lot at his Aunt's side before she passed but his favourite thing she taught him was baci d'aria; special little spells that you created from the heart and put into the food you shared.

In opening his heart and gifts to those around him Steve slowly finds himself a family in a way he never thought he'd get to experience. One by One he collects pre-teens to trail in his wake like ducklings and Steve can't even refute it by the time he realizes what has happened.

(This fic is so soft and Steve is just collecting people and winning them over with his magical food (literally). I am always a sucker for heartwarming, good for the soul fics so if you want to make yourself hungry and feel all warm and gooey inside, read this!)

(Don't Fear) The Reaper by TeaFourTwo

Ship: Steve/Billy

He looks down at the blood on his hands and on the floor and wonders why the memory hasn’t broken yet, why he isn’t back in Starcourt mall with control of his body again, wonders if he's even still alive at all. Is this hell then? Or perhaps purgatory? It certainly isn’t heaven, that’s for sure. None of this makes any sense…but then what's new—nothing in Billy’s life makes sense anymore.

Billy laughs then, loud and long and unhinged. It's the only sound in the whole house, and it bounces off the walls like a fucked up echo, like the world is laughing with him.

“Jesus christ you’re insane…” It’s Max’s voice and it’s shaking. It only makes Billy laugh harder, because Max has it all wrong. Billy isn’t crazy, it’s the rest of the world that’s insane.

Billy dies a hero of sorts. He wakes up back in his bed on Saturday morning, the third of November, 1984...nearly nine months earlier.

(Billy is stuck in a time loop and it's slowly driving him crazy. And the fic shows just how much influence Billy did have in the plot and how doomed the world is without him in it. Great character exploration with Billy's character and all the ways he's so messy and human. Definitely recommend it!)

[Knives Out]

The Road Less Traveled By by UisceOneLove

Ship: Marta/Ransom

If Harlan wants to leave Ransom to be on his own, fine. He'll show him just what Ransom Drysdale is capable of.

or, where Ransom chooses to prove his abilities through means of the non-homicidal variety and finds himself becoming exactly what Harlan was hoping he would.

(I found this fic out of sheer chance and god, Ransom is just, so fascinating to me as a character. Marta of course is the Best here and I will forever stan her. Seriously, this is such a good fic! Please read!)

[Haikyuu!!]

Sky Full of Stars by grilledsquids

The Hinatas are twins. They're practically identical.

But while Shouyou seeks out Karasuno's volleyball team to become the next Little Giant, Natsu is scouted to to play soccer for Shiratorizawa. While Shouyou sets his eyes on playing volleyball at the highest level possible, his sister wonders how much longer she can play soccer... and if it's worth it to keep going.

A Natsu-centric story featuring: Shiratorizawa VBC shenanigans, too many soccer OCs, mild teenage drama, a little bit of plot, and Semi Eita not knowing what a period is.

(It's just!! So cute and wholesome!!! The Shiratorizawa volleyball team is so fleshed out along with the OC characters for the girl's soccer team and I swear, it's been a long while since I've laughed this much at the sheer shenanigans that happen in a fic. It's surprisingly hard to find good gen fics in this fandom so finding this gem made me so happy! If you want a fic that brings a smile to your face, read this!!)

like water by speakingincode

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, and when Tooru looks at him, he can read My best friend’s an idiot off the crease of his eyebrows. “Are you telling me you spent the last three years weirdly obsessed with Kageyama – I still remember the time you made us play him on a dumb whim, you know – and now you’re at his beck and call? Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m— I’m not at his beck and call! I said no last week. It’s… It’s like you said. I get bored easily. I saw him at the park a couple weeks after they played Nationals and called him a perfect little tyrant, and he pestered me into spending time with him after,” Tooru says. “I’m not a monster, Iwa-chan. If he wants the company of his cool, handsome ex-upperclassman that badly, who am I to begrudge him?”

Or: Oikawa doesn't know why Kageyama keeps asking to meet him on Saturdays. He also doesn't know why he keeps saying yes.

(The fact this fic is canon-compliant and covers post-canon too makes me want to shout to the heavens. Fucking incredible! One of the best Oikakage fics ever and it's a crime how it's not at the top of the ship tag. Please please read!!)

twist into your shape by kakkoweeb

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

The only thing better than sweets were sweets containing paper that told you whether your future would be good or bad--or in Kageyama and Oikawa's case, paper that somehow caused you to live inside each other's bodies.

(Everyone probably already read this fic but it needs to be said, you need to read this fic. How these two try and manage each other's lives and slowly start to care about one another is so beautiful and sincere and I am ready to wrestle anyone to the floor and comply them into reading this fic. Doesn't matter if you like the ship, you will become a fan if you read it, I promise. Please please read!!)

Take the Long Road Home by pepperfield

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

When Azumane Asahi goes missing before his engagement meeting with Kozume Kenma, what other option is there but for Daichi to impersonate his brother and fake his way through a first date with Asahi's fiance?

Okay, let's be realistic - there were probably at least four other options.

Unfortunately, Tetsurou couldn't come up with any of them either, so now he's here flirting with Kenma's future husband while trying to keep his web of deceit from collapsing.

It's going to be an eventful day.

(I got obsessed with this ship alongside Oikakage and SO WILL YOU. THE POTENTIAL. THE BANTER. THE FACT THEY'RE BOTH DORKS AND THE FIC HAS IDENTITY SHENANIGANS DANCING ALL OVER IT!! I had so much fun reading this and these two are MEANT TO BE FENIWPAF. If you don't see the potential of this ship, you will now.)

a misunderstanding a day keeps the boyfriend away by bartallen for betuls

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

Kuroo doesn’t fall in love hard and fast like many others do – he falls slowly, and very very softly. Most of the times he doesn’t even realise he’s in love with someone until it’s too late.

(Kuroo is the dumbest man alive and I've never related to someone so hard in my life. God help me.)

You like me. by roseknight

Ship: Daishou/Kuroo

Kuroo nearly lived a Daishou-free life, and sometimes he looked back and wondered how much better and how much worse that would've been.

(I didn't even know who Daishou was until I read this fic and now I can't unsee the potential this ship has. I'm a ruined woman and I regret NOTHING.)

Kings of the Road, Kings of the Universe by EzzyDean

Eight magical captains, one bus, an entire summer (and country) waiting for them.

What could possibly go wrong?

(The magic of friendship meets the magic of a summer road trip meets pure magic.)

(CAPTAIN SQUAD IS THE BEST SQUAD SOMEBODY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME SOME CAPTAIN SQUAD FICS I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS SQUAD IT'S A PROBLEM AAAAHHHHHH!)

宿縁 : See You Soon by MissKiraBlue

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

Upon arriving at the train station of death, an impure soul is granted a second chance at life against his will. Reincarnating into the body of Kageyama Tobio, a 15-year-old boy who recently committed suicide. Tobio's soul will depart at death and the soul needs to slip in to replace it. If the soul's reformation succeeds, he’ll reenter the cycle of rebirth and regain the right to be reborn. He will have three months to accomplish this task.

“Even though you had enough of life,” the soul whispered into the void of the room, “you were still afraid to hurt your hands, Tobio.”

Afraid of giving himself a scar, if he survived.

He touched his pulse and grasped life and couldn’t help but pity Kageyama Tobio.

"You wanted to die and now I’m here making you live again," he whispered into the night.

(I'm not even exaggerating when I say out of all the fics in this entire goddamn, too long list, this is the fic I'm anticipating and heart eyeing the most. It's only starting, but I already cried on chapter fucking 2, the power of this fic, holy shit. The author also wrote the hq time loop Every Tomorrows series, which I have an undying love for and am full on praying for the day it updates, so you KNOW this fic will be just as good. (Anybody who hasn't read this series, where the hell have you been?? Read it!!) Just, everything about this fic hurts me and something in my chest just aches when I read this fic. Go into it blind with an open heart and I swear to you, it's going to change your life. I'm already calling it. Seriously though, please please read!)

[Crossover]

Learning to Fly by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, Naruto

The number three hero is a walking (well, flying) contradiction in every sense of the word. This includes his teaching skills. Why had Tokoyami agreed to this internship again? Oh right. He’d thought he was actually going to learn something. …….remind him to never be so optimistic again. . . . OR, Kakashi Hatake is reincarnated as the pro hero, Hawks. Tokoyami Fumikage suffers as a result.

(The reincarnation fic I never thought I needed and it's so good!! I've never really paid attention to Tokoyami and this fic sent me headfirst into loving him. Their dynamic is so interesting and I just love how their relationship develops. Also, Kakashi trolling the poor kid made me cackle, it's great! Definitely recommend it!)

Si Vis Pacem by athenoot

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, John Wick

Everything has a price. That's what John has always known and will forever remember, even in death.

Which is pretty ironic considering his current circumstance.

Instead of a grown, scarred, weary body belonging to a man as cruel and broken as him, he's inhabiting a younger, smaller, unblemished one belonging to a child with strangely colored hair, and is living in what seems to be a superhuman society.

Well. May it never be said that John isn't a strategist. He can live with this. Maybe.

(Somewhere out there in the universe, he's certain he could hear the laughter of his enemies from beyond the grave.)

Or: John Wick is reincarnated as Midoriya Izuku. The world should probably watch its back.

(This should be one of the crackiest fics I've read in a while, but it's taken so seriously and I'm so HERE FOR THIS. John Wick being John Wick in a world of quirks and heroes is the GREATEST, honestly, he's so badass. Bakugou, I feel for you, you must be so fucking confused lol. Bakugou trying his best to be a good friend is one of the best things about this fic. Trust me, this fic will make your day, promise!)

A Girl's Mind is a Dangerous Place by clenastia

Fandoms: Naruto, Fairy Tail

Natsu wakes up in Sakura's body. It only gets worse from there. Also known as: In Which Natsu has No Idea what to do with Boobs.

(I binged this in two fucking days, I couldn't put it down. This fic reminded me why I liked fairy tail when I was younger and why Natsu is honestly such a great protagonist, god. And the fic does that thing, you know, the Thing where when two worlds collide, the characters struggle to acclimate and adapt to a completely another world with different rules and mindsets against their own. This fic is seriously one of the best when it comes to that aspect, it's incredible. I am going absolutely feral over here for this fic to update, I'm waiting in the wings, ready to pounce like a tiger, all the metaphors man. For the love of god, read this fic.)

Give me a landscape made of obstacles by Melise

Fandoms: Naruto, Natsume's Book of Friends

Kakashi Hatake isn’t who he says he is.

Because the truth is that he’s actually a youkai in disguise, a wolf spirit named Madara who stumbled across the Hatake clan during the Warring States Period. Intrigued by the shinobi he saw, he’d proposed a temporary alliance in which he would offer the clan protection in exchange for their teachings.

Decades later, Madara is surprised to find himself inadvertently summoned to Konoha by the last living member of the Hatake clan. Sakumo Hatake, who is mourning the recent deaths of his wife and stillborn child, doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So with his permission, Madara takes the place of Sakumo’s deceased son in order to watch over the last Hatake.

(Fusion in which the youkai of Natsume’s Book of Friends all exist in the Naruto world. No knowledge of Natsume’s Book of Friends required).

(Before this fic, I only had a very vague idea of what Natsume's Book of Friends was, and honestly, I still don't know much about it. But I didn't really need to know to get into this fic. I love the worldbuilding and the relationships Kakashi forms, both supernatural and mortal. I love how Kakashi's inhumane ways affect others around him, whether to stress them out or become used to the strange. You can go straight into this fic without knowing anything and absolutely still have a fantastic time. I definitely recommend this so please read!)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Naruto #Harry Potter #Boku no Hero Academia #Stranger Things #Knives Out #Haikyuu!!#Crossover #John Wick #Fairy Tail #Natsume's Book of Friends

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drarryruinedme7 · 3 years

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Last year I made a post with all my fave Drarry fics from my first year of fandom. Have my second year wrap up! Listed by Rating and then length.

RATING: TEEN AND UP AUDIENCES

Beautiful by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2017; 8.9k)

Summary: With the second task looming closer, Harry escapes to the Black Lake to open the egg, in the hopes of avoiding Myrtle. The Mersong isn't just helpful in figuring out that Mermaids are real, it attracts his very own handsome Merman.

*I didn’t know I love merpeople AUs until I read this one. It was cute and sweet and I’m really glad I read it.

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi (2017; 93.3k)

Summary: 'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

*What can I say. This is a masterpiece, it absolutely entered my heart to never leave it again. Best AU ever!!!

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered (2018; 153.8k)

Summary: Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

* This has been the turning point of my Drarry passion this year. First, I discovered Lettered (good Lord why hadn’t I before?!) and then, well. This fic brought out so many feelings in me and I’ve already re-read it something like 5 or 6 times in the span of a few months. Amazing.

RATING: MATURE

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (2018; 20.7k)

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

* The angst!! It’s usually not my cuppa, but this was bittersweet and just so well written, I couldn’t stop reading. Find the rec for this one at this post.

RATING: EXPLICIT

Give Me Sweet Oblivion by @tryslora (2012; 4k)

Summary: Italy seems like a long way to go to keep a fetish secret. But the club is exclusive, and the far away location, and Muggle nature, promises anonymity from Wizarding Britain. The only problem is that sometimes, great minds think alike.

*Super hot, I love finding old gems like this one. Plus, Italy. Go, folks!

Shiny Things, Slightly Damaged by @lqtraintracks (2020; 5.3k)

Summary: Harry may not ever have had to see it if McGonagall hadn’t decided it was a good idea to hold a ceremony on the grounds outside before the Sorting in the Hall. And by ‘it’ he’s referring to Draco Malfoy on a motorbike.

*jsklajdksajfa This one! THIS ONE! Slayed me. I read it feverishly and then like, fainted at Draco on a motorbike.... this fic surprised me and I 100% loved it.

A Ghost of Blissful Feelings by @alpha-exodus (2020; 6k)

Summary: Harry hadn't expected to spend his eighth year fucking Draco Malfoy, but it's the only thing that helps him let go.

*Dunno guys, I’m amazed by how much this one hit me. You should read the tags before diving in, but it was darkish in the right way, Harry and Draco suffers and find peace in a ‘’special’’ way, but I stand by it. Hot and intense.

Tell Me (What you Need) by @keyflight790 (2019; 6k)

Summary: Even though Harry was paying for his Dom, there were limits; breaking points in which someone would refuse, no matter how many Galleons were pushed in their direction.

*Okay, I may be biased because this is a gift for me, but Chris never lets down with her amazing writing and this has everything I need and more: Dom!Rentboy!Draco and a perfectly sweet Harry with a Daddy!kink. I mean.

Dangerous by Faith Wood (2014; 6.3k)

Summary: Being trapped in a dungeon with Malfoy — who's a werewolf, a former Death Eater, and a giant git — is definitely dangerous. Harry has no reason to be excited. None at all.

*Y’all know Faith Wood is like my n.1 fave Drarry author. I have no idea why I had never read this one though!!! It’s actually phenomenal, scorching hot and just dsjkafjaks love this werewolf!Draco. OMG.

Scent and Sensibility by aidaninkling (2018; 7.5k)

Summary: [...] Draco's always known he'd be married off as a trophy omega, but suddenly his mother's trying to make him king by promising him to some stupidly good-looking alpha and she just won't stop smiling at him. Does fate's cruelty know no end?!

*This blew my mind. A/B/O AU so hot I melted while reading it and I loved it so much that I re-read it three times IN A ROW. No kidding. Read it.

The Eighth Tale by @letteredlettered (2012; 12k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

*Back to Lettered. I love Time Travel fics, and this just delivered perfectly. The ending was also enigmatic enough to keep me wandering, which I always appreciate in these kind of stories.

Sex, Lies and Veritaserum by @letteredlettered (2011; 17.9k)

Summary: This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.

*LOL alright, I’ve developed a new obsession this year (clearly). This was ...gosh! Hot but it also gives away a certain level of intimacy and trust between Draco and Harry to be so open about their kinks... it was perfect.

On One’s Knees by pir8fancier (2008; 33.8k)

Summary: The war is over and to the victors go the spoils.

* The fic which made me fall in love with DownAndOut!Draco.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette (2019; 49.2k)

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

*Okay y’all. Nerd is a great person and author. She is phenomenal. And this fic shows it so well. The pirate!AU the Drarry fandom both needed and deserved. Sublime.

Unhook the Stars by jad (2016; 70.5k)

Summary: [...] Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words. Guest appearances by Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Teddy Lupin, Gregory Goyle, the Weird Sisters, ex-wives, several Weasleys, a Boggart, and a Honey Badger.

*Again, Dom!Draco and such a beautiful sub!Harry. They stole my heart. In this fic they grow up together through the aftermath of the war and they just... they have this intense Dom/sub relationship, I can’t... explain how much I loved this. Scorpius also makes his appearance and it’s so real and cute!

Such Great Heights by aideomai (2015; 93.3k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

*This is one of the last ones I’ve read. Find my rec for it here. Such a cool fic, with a shunned Draco who gets to be so happy in the end, it made me happy too.

Burn The Witch by @lettersbyelise (2019; 95.8)

Summary: When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s. A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

*I do not have the words to express what this fic means to me. First of all, it’s how I met Elise who’s an amazing person and who I’m glad to call friend. She’s the sweetest. And also incredibly talented. This fic will take your breath away from the first word to the last one. Smol!Scorpius is perfectly characterised and my absolute favourite bit of the fic.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (2019; 99.7k)

Summary: What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

*Another incredible person who I got to know better thanks to her breathtaking storytelling and her sweetness for sharing it with me. Quick made something amazing with this fic and I urge you to read it. It was my first creature fic ever, first time I read about werewolves and I totally fell in love with it. Sheer perfection.

Freedom to be by @quicksilvermaid (2019; 169.5k)

Summary: Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect. Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

*Well, could I just miss out on another one of Quick’s great works? With, again, Dom!Draco!??? No, I couldn’t! This is such a great exploration of BDSM and what it means and Harry’s path into it.

19 Years and 5 Minutes Later by TheMightyFlynn (2015; 202.8k)

Summary: Five minutes after his happily-ever-after, Harry finds himself locked in the public loos with an angry Draco Malfoy and a need that he has denied for 19 years.

*Find my rec for this fic here. It’s really long and has Ginny bashing, but it’s totally worth it!!

#drarry #drarry squad #drarry fic rec #drarry rec #draco x harry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fics #drarry fanfictions #my recs #two years of drarry #amazing authors #amazing stories

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cal-kestis · 3 years

Text

You Mean More | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Part III of The Aftermath of Losing Everything)

moodboard/sketch/gifs made by me, please don’t repost :)

Summary: The plan goes as follows: Send the Mandalorian to the Imperial base under the guise of full cooperation and stall the holoprojector Imp for as long as possible. This will give you enough time to sneak in through an air vent, find a terminal, and hack the system, wiping every Imperial archive of Din Djarin's face. It should work, right? As long as no one gets hurt. (Set after S2) Rating: M Word Count: 8023 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, no use of ‘Y/N’, non-explicit smut, canon-typical violence, blood A/N: This is what they call: the climax.

[PART I] // [PART II] // [Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

xi.

As Din flies to the Imperial base, the only sounds filling the cockpit are the low beeps of the control board and the tense quiet of your voice repeating the plan for the twenty-third time. When you finally land on an icy planet, you see the base outside the viewport blending in with its snowy surroundings — white, cold, frozen in time — and two stormtroopers flanking either side of the sealed entrance.

“Check your comlink,” Din says, voice gentle and authoritative.

“Testing, testing. Cuyan to Shiny Head, do you copy?” You whisper-shout into the device, watching as his gloved hand reaches for the side of his helmet, listening to your words spoken directly into his ear. He nods.

“You’re not calling me ‘Shiny Head’ by the way.”

You want to laugh. Normally, you would. But anxiety drops low in your stomach again as you peer out to the base.

“This is going to work,” you whisper and he wonders whether you’re saying that for his sake or to convince yourself.

“Don’t leave the ship until I give you the signal,” he says, his hands grasping both of your shoulders, thumbs brushing your upper arms in gentle circles. You only nod in response, your eyes boring into the visor of his helmet, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. When he pulls you against his chest and tightens his grip, your body sinks into his, trying to memorize how you fit together in case it’s all you have left. Too soon, he’s letting go, leaving only the crown of his helmet connected to your forehead when he echoes your words, “This is going to work.”

The moment he exits the ship, you sprint to the engine bay and pull the ship’s electro-periscope from the ceiling. Through the red-tinted binoc lens, you have a magnified view of the Mandalorian as he saunters up to the base’s entrance, not even flinching as the stormtroopers draw their blasters.

You watch his helmet turn wide to the left and swing slowly to the right, scanning the base as the troopers check his person and confiscate his blaster. The stormtroopers step back to their posts, leaving Din standing in the middle of the snow outside of a round, closed door. Waiting.

“Cuyan Two to Cuyan One,” you mutter into the comlink. “What are you seeing?”

You’re met with a long gap of static and you panic, thinking the coms are jammed, before he finally answers.

“You were right, Cuyan One,” he whispers, the hint of a smile in his voice despite the circumstances. “There’s a small duct to the left of the entrance. You’ll have to distract the guard troopers.”

“I can manage.”

“I know you can,” he says, steadfast as ever. Din believes in you without an ounce of hesitation and it makes you feel like you could command stars into existence and the galaxy would obey. “After I give the signal, go to my weapons locker. There’s a locked box at the bottom. Punch in my code and take the bag inside it with you."

“What’s in it?” You ask, watching as the doors to the base finally open, revealing another pair of stormtroopers, one with red markings on their armor. A Burner, more infamously known as an Incinerator Trooper.

“Things to keep you safe,” he answers quickly.

One of the guards gives Din’s blaster to the troopers now leading him into the base. And before the doors close, you see Din’s fingers interlock behind his back: the signal.

Focusing the periscope on the two guard troopers, you scan the area again, looking for a way to distract them without causing a scene. Aside from a patch of bushes to the right of the base, the area is blanketed in pure white snow with nothing to give you cover. Great.

As you think over your next move, you run to Din’s weapons cabinet and rummage through his arsenal, finding the locked box under an old cloak. You punch his code into the number pad — 47648, ‘GROGU’ on a 10-key pad you remember with a bittersweet smile — and the box opens with a quiet click. As promised, there’s a small tan-colored pouch with a shoulder strap and, inside it, you find a blaster that fits perfectly in your hand and what looks like a silver sword hilt, its blade completely missing. You run your fingers across the angular handle, confused as to how a bladeless weapon could “keep you safe.” But when your finger presses over a smooth panel on the hilt, a high-pitched sound emits from its chamber and a black blade glows in front of your face.

A lightsaber, you think, like the ones Din had told you about what feels like a lifetime ago. But this one isn’t green like the one he’d described Grogu’s master used or white like Ahsoka Tano’s twin sabers. It's dark and blinding, laced with an energy you’re far too frightened to wield. You retract the blade almost immediately, heart racing as you stuff both weapons into the worn bag and sling it over your shoulder.

Taking a long, steadying breath, you slowly step onto the boarding ramp — thanking the Maker Din had the sense to leave it down so it wouldn’t make a noise and blow your cover. He hadn’t parked the ship too far from the entrance and you can clearly see the duct he’d mentioned a few yards away. If you can just get the stormtroopers to turn in the other direction, you could sprint and be in the clear.

The plan is dumb, you know it. But it’s already the day of dumb plans and it’s all you have. Kneeling, you gather a mass of powdery snow in your gloved hands and press it together until it clumps into a dense ball. With your arms outstretched in front of you, you close your eyes and reach out with your mind, focusing your thoughts on the ball of snow in your palms.

The snow levitates high above you, high above even the Imperial base, and toward the trooper standing on the right side of the entry. You lower the ball just to his head-level and out of his eyesight, flick your wrist slowly to the right to gain some momentum, then snap it quickly to the left, smacking the stormtrooper hard against his helmet.

“What the hell?” You hear the stormtrooper shout, shuffling back on his feet.

“What happened?” The other asks.

“I just got hit with a snowball?” He answers with his own question, rubbing the side of his helmet.

You focus your thoughts again, this time, reaching out toward the bushes to the right of the base, causing the branches to wiggle and rustle.

The two troopers snap their heads in the direction of the mysterious sound, walking slowly with their blasters aimed and ready. And when they reach the bushes, aimlessly kicking at the shrubs with their boots, you run for it.

Your lungs are on fire when you reach the duct, fingers trembling as you quietly jiggle off the vent’s cover to give yourself an opening. You crawl in the chamber and quickly replace the cover before the stormtroopers return to their posts.

Once you’re safe inside the duct, you turn Din’s line back on so you can hear his side of the mission.

“I’m in,” you whisper.

On his end, you hear him grunt quietly in acknowledgment before the line is filled with only the faint sound of marching boots.

You have no idea where you’re going — probably the dumbest part of your entire plan — but you hope to stumble upon a terminal or control room sooner rather than later so you and Din can leave this nightmare in the past.

The base’s air vent system proves to be an endless maze, however, with forks and crossroads at every turn. Your knees start to ache as they press and slide across the metal ducting, your hands leaving trails of water as the thin layer of ice on your gloves melts away. You freeze when you hear footsteps below the air duct, holding your breath as you peer through the slits of a vent to see a platoon of stormtroopers marching through the corridor.

After what feels like hours, you finally find a small, surprisingly empty room filled with computer terminals and open a vent panel before quietly dropping down from the ceiling.

By no means would you call yourself a hacking wizard, but you had some tricks up your sleeve. Years of scraping by on your own will teach you a host of odd skills. Within seconds, you bypass the facial scanners and begin combing through the archives before you hear some static crackle in your earpiece once again.

“Please, no need for formalities," you hear a faint voice taunt through Din’s com. “We already know what you look like.”

It’s the holoprojector Imp, the familiar sound of her throaty voice floods your ears. Din doesn’t respond, and you imagine him standing like a statue, calculating the odds and armed with nothing but beskar and silence.

“Very well,” the Imp says. “Leave the helmet on. We have more important matters to discuss.”

“I almost have it,” you whisper to Din, hoping your encouraging progress can serve as another weapon.

“Now, Din Djarin,” the Imp calls, his name dripping out of her mouth like venom. “Don’t think we’d be so foolish to believe you’d assist us willingly. Assume that we know everything.”

A shiver runs down your spine from the thinly concealed threat, and your fingers fly faster over the controls as time slips through the cracks.

Finally, you find it, a record labeled: ‘Din Djarin.’ And you erase every trace of him.

“Got it, Cuyan One,” you sigh a breath of relief into the comlink.

“For example,” the Imp is still talking, and you roll your eyes knowing you’ve already won. “We know you did not come here alone.”

Suddenly, the blast doors of the terminal room open with a whoosh, and you back up against the machines as two stormtroopers corner you in. With a blessed shred of forethought, you blindly pull one of the weapons out of Din’s bag behind your back and sneak it into the back waistband of your pants, covered by your thick cloak. Just as you thought, one stormtrooper tears the bag from your shoulder, looking inside to find the other weapon without searching you further.

They push you down the corridor, jabbing you in the middle of your back with the barrel of their blasters, and you count each step before stopping in front of a heavy-looking door on the shadowy end of the hall.

Din’s voice enters your ears at the same moment.

“If you even think about hurting her, you’re already dead.”

The door opens, revealing a dark room bathed in ominous red light. In the middle, the holoprojector Imp stands with her legs spread and her hands behind her back, flanked by two stormtroopers. Somehow, the Imp looks even paler without the blue tint of holo coloring her skin. It makes her eyes appear pitch black in comparison, piercing as they slant at you in unmasked scrutiny. She wears the same darkness in her hair which is cut blunt and short, severe against her skeletal pallor. In front of her, Din kneels on the ground, the Burner standing only a few steps behind him, flamethrower at the ready.

With your two captors holding you by the arms in a room filled with enemies, the odds feel slim to none. Din’s helmet turns to you, his beskar shrouded in red, and you do your best to send him a reassuring smile.

The Imp suddenly says your full name, a grin splitting her face in half when you turn to her in shock. “So nice of you to join us.”

“You already lost,” you spit at the Imp, grinning wider than her. “I erased the archives. You have nothing.”

“Oh, such a pretty, foolish girl,” the Imp sings and you hear the teasing, grating noise from both her true voice and its distortion through your comlink. With your arms trapped, you can’t even turn off the device, and you cringe each time the dissonance scratches its way into your ears. “You may have wiped the systems but I have a backup drive,” she smirks, patting the badge-decorated pocket on her uniform. “In fact, I’ve also collected some interesting records on you, my dear. About your family, your… history.”

She’s bluffing, she has to be.

“Assume that we know everything,” the Imp repeats.

“Who are you?” You grit through bared teeth.

She laughs and you wipe your ear on your shoulder in disgust.

“Surely you both understand if I choose to withhold certain information. One's identity can be so very…” the Imp pretends to consider her words, glancing at Din and then sneering back at you as she taps a gloved finger against her pale, pointed chin. “Valuable.”

You lunge at her, a snarl ripping from your throat, but a trooper holds you back with a painful grip, his blaster digging into your side.

“Now, Din Djarin,” the Imp says, turning her attention back to the kneeling warrior. “If you don’t want to watch me kill your partner, you’ll do as I wish. Help me retrieve Gideon. Otherwise, you both shall die here.” Her blaster clicks as she points the barrel between his eyes with horrifying gracefulness.

“No!” You scream, turning every weapon in the room on you.

“Let her go,” Din practically growls.

“Ah,” the Imp says, walking to where you stand on the other side of the room, her weapon dangling like a child's toy from her fingers. “Or perhaps the girl can be of better help? With the proper motivation, of course. Tell me, where are they keeping the Moff? I wouldn’t want to be forced to make a roast out of your Mandalorian.”

With a snap of the Imp’s fingers, the Burner points his flamethrower at Din’s head. But somehow, in that same instant, you manage to rip yourself out of the troopers’ holds, making them stumble backward. And your hand flies forward, lifting the Imperial officer from the ground.

The troopers seem dumbfounded by the magic they’re witnessing, blasters pointed at the ground in their stupor. You can almost see their slack-jawed expressions through their helmets as the Imp clutches her hands around her throat, gasping for air and hovering a foot above the floor.

“A Jedi?” She croaks.

Assume that we know everything. You knew it. A bluff.

“Wrong again,” you grin, pushing your hand forward and sending the Imp soaring across the room. Her head hits metal with a heavy crash, falling unconscious, and at the same time, a loud alarm sounds throughout the base. Somehow, the red of the room grows darker and more saturated as lights flash on the ceiling.

Blaster fire ricochets off the red-tinted walls when the troopers come back to reality, the blasts deafening as you dodge them, thankful it’s just a group of bad-shot stormtroopers and not an elite unit.

One stormtrooper charges toward you, raising the butt of his blaster to strike, but you kick him hard in the stomach, plowing him into the floor. In the corner of your eye, you see Din twist in a circle, his wrists still bound behind him as he sweeps his leg under the Burner, making the trooper fall backward with a thud.

You rush over to Din, pulling the saber from your waistband and igniting the blade to cut his binders off. You wordlessly hand him the sword but he pushes it back toward you.

“Use it,” he says, squeezing your wrist before turning back to knock the flamethrower out of the Burner’s grasp.

You’ve been in your fair share of scuffles back on Tatooine, even some while working with the Mandalorian — but you’ve never fought with a sword before. Clumsily, you swing the blade in front of you, brandishing it toward the troopers without skill.

“How do I use this thing?” You shout at Din who is busy punching a stormtrooper and taking back his blaster.

“It’s a sword,” he yells over the alarm, shooting a third clueless trooper. “Stab something!”

With both hands gripping the hilt, you send the blade slicing through the air, a loud humming sound echoing in your ears with each swing. And when you hit the side of one final stormtrooper, the strike punctuated by a roaring crackle, he’s on the ground, his white armor sizzling as it melts.

But while the chaos in the red room settles, a larger battle brews outside its doors.

“I erased it, they have nothing,” you explain breathlessly, retracting the saber as Din surveys your body for injuries. You pull Din’s bag off the fallen trooper and replace the sword inside. “The Imp was bluffing.”

You run over to the unconscious woman regardless, checking her pockets. Empty.

“Are you sure?” He asks when you return to him, holding your trembling shoulders.

“Positive. It’s like I could sense it.”

A loud crash echoes in the corridors, making you jump away from him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Din says, at the same moment you scream, “Watch out!”

It happens in slow motion. The Incinerator Trooper pushes himself on his feet and reaches for his flamethrower. Din’s gaze is focused on you when you see the trooper take aim, a small fire beginning to bloom from the barrel.

Your arms wrap around Din instinctively, attempting to shield his body with your own. You wait for the burning heat, for the scorch of flames to lick at your skin. You wait to hear both your agonizing screams before you and Din leave the universe together. But as bright orange and red tendrils flash behind your closed eyelids, you only feel cool beskar.

Opening your eyes, you see a dome of fire just inches away from your bodies. Din pulls away slowly, taking in the sight of the inferno around him, dancing flames reflecting off his armor.

“Are you doing this?” He asks, a hazy memory creeping into his mind of the stand-off on Nevarro.

You squint through the fire, only finding the Burner with his thrower still aimed forward. You are doing this. Closing your eyes again, you reach out and focus your thoughts harder on the protective shield blocking the flames. Your mind pushes forward and deflects the fire backward, hurling the blaze and embers into the trooper. When the flames dissipate, the Burner collapses to the ground, his suit scorched and blackened.

Standing in the middle of the destruction, you stare at your hands in shock before yellow-tipped gloves grab them and pull you out of the room.

“We have to go,” Din says.

The halls flash with red lights, sirens soaring through the narrow corridors as trooper footsteps drum closer and closer.

Din leads you quickly through the base and out where he first entered. But you’re met by a rain of blaster fire as you both attempt to sprint back to the ship in one piece. Din pushes you in front of him, running backward as he shoots and blocks the blasters with the armor on his chest.

“Hang on,” he shouts, and before you can question it, he’s scooping you into his arms and launching off the ground.

He flies to the parked ship in record timing. But before he can make his landing, a blast hits his jetpack. It combusts with a deafening boom, right next to your ear, and it sends both of you hurdling into the ice. For a moment, you can’t hear a thing except for the echo of the explosion as you fall to the pillowy snow. Then, beside you, you hear a dull crack of beskar on thick, hardened ice and Din groaning aloud in agony.

“No!” You shout, coming to your senses when you see his leg bent at a strange angle, blood seeping onto the ice from his helmet.

“Get us out of here,” he grits out.

It feels frighteningly familiar pulling his body into the ship, danger looming from all sides as blasts continue to ding off the freighter or melt into the snow. You close the ramp, leave Din in the hold, and get the ship high above the ground.

But you hesitate, hovering in the air for a long moment, before making a choice.

Charging the gunners, you aim at the Imperial base and release a shockwave of vengeful blasts. And as the facility and everything inside and around it disintegrates into ash and rubble, you launch into hyperspace, leaving nothing behind.

The next moments pass by in a blur, Din’s cries ringing loudly in your ears as you try to figure out what to do. He gives you strained instructions but you can barely understand him.

“Reset the bone,” he grunts with just enough clarity, all while writhing in pain.

“Reset the bone,” you echo. “Right. I can do this. I’ll need to cut your pants.”

You find a small blade, remove his boot and armor, and slice a line from the bottom of his pant leg to just above his knee. With one hand gripping below his knee and the other pressing down on his thigh, you pull and hear the bone snap back into place as Din screams. You run to the storage closet for the medpac and return with bacta gel in hand, smoothing it over the purple, splotchy skin around Din’s leg before delicately wrapping it with the cut fabric of his pants and a makeshift splint.

“Your head,” you remember, searching for the wound under his cowl, and he wheezes as if to confirm. “No. No, no, no, no, no. Oh, stars, Din. This is bad,” you sputter, your palm painted in his blood.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, breath slowing as he brushes his fingers through your hair. “You did so good back there, cuyan. My survivor.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” you cry, tears rolling in waves down your cheeks. “You’re Cuyan One, remember? You’re going to be alright. I’m gonna fix this.”

“You’re so brave, so clever, so strong,” he continues, coughing between words. “Kotep, mirdala, kotyc. Ner kar’ta,” he croaks, voice fading out.

“Stay with me, Din!” You shout.

“I want to see your face,” he mumbles as if in a trance.

“I’m here, Din,” you tell him, taking his hand and placing it on your cheek. “I’m here.”

“No,” he coughs. “I want to see your face with my own eyes.”

You stare at him, waiting for him to retract his words. When he doesn’t, he pulls your joined hands to his helmet. You’re shaking when your other hand finds the opposite side of the beskar, releasing the lock and lifting it from his head.

His face is covered in blood and cuts, his brown eyes drooping with fatigue, dark hair plastered to his forehead.

“Oh, Din,” you cry, unable to even process him without a helmet for the first time as you take in the damage. You can’t even see him behind the wounds that mar his features. But he sees you. His hand comes back to your cheek, thumb sliding back and forth in a half-moon shape.

“Mesh’la,” he whispers. “Means beautiful. You are so beautiful, ner kar’ta.”

You blink hard, heavy tears landing on his armor drop after drop even as he tries to brush them away. Your hand covers his own on your cheek, fiercely pressing his palm into your skin like you’re afraid he’ll let go. Kissing the exposed skin of his wrist, you taste a tragic mixture of blaster residue and wet salt on your lips.

“I can’t remember what ner kar’ta means,” you sob. “Please tell me.”

One corner of his lips twitches upward, a strained, painful effort to smile, but he does everything in his power to let you see it.

“It means,” he gasps. “My heart.”

His hand falls from your cheek, limp in your lap and your body shakes at the loss of his touch. You can still hear his shallow breaths but you’re not sure how much longer he can go in this state. You close your eyes, holding his hand as your fingers brush over his glove. The inside of the ship is silent — peaceful and still as if unaware that your entire universe is crumbling in front of you. There’s not enough bacta in the galaxy to treat the trauma he’s sustaining in his head. You can hardly see his skin under the layers of blood and scrapes.

His warm, honeyed voice echoes in your mind, stories he’s told you over and over when you’d make any excuse to hear his voice, stories about him and Grogu. You think of his little green son, how you’re failing him right now. Please take care of my father.

Din always sounded so wistful when he talked about Grogu, so in awe of his power.

He could do things I couldn’t even imagine…

He saved me, in more ways than one…

Grogu is a special kid…

He could heal people.

“He could heal people!” You shout out loud, eyes bulging from their sockets.

In all your years of walking a tightrope when it came to your strange wizard-like powers, you’d never imagined you could heal. All those times you’d tried to fall asleep covered in bruises or cuts, you could have prevented so many nights of excruciating physical pain. But now is not the time to dwell on the past when your future is slipping through your fingers.

You close your eyes again — slowly resting one hand on Din’s cheek, the other still clutching his limp hand — and try to relax, reach out with your mind, reach inside, and focus your thoughts, emotions, energy, everything you have on the man in front of you.

It flows out of you in waves, sinking into him, and you feel it: your body growing more tired each second, only hoping your vitality is transferring into him. Just when you’re about to pass out, you hear him gasp for air, his body shooting up like a fish out of water.

“Din?” You blearily wonder. But his face blurs out of focus before you fall to the floor.

—

In the face of pain, the body has natural defenses to harden itself, like the calluses that develop on your fingertips and heels for armor. You can build a tolerance, a certain degree of numbness until pain regresses to a dull ache at the back of your mind. And sometimes, the skin gets so thick, the body so paralyzed, that you start to believe nothing could ever hurt you. Not coarse sand crystals or alleyway scum or sharp-clawed rancors or stormtrooper blasts.

But it’s funny how protection covering the outside does nothing to shield what lies underneath — merely a shattered fortress with cracks that let pain seep into the bloodstream and petrify the heart.

When Din’s hand had dropped limp in yours, you hadn’t felt the pain of his wounds or scars shrouding your body. Instead, you’d felt a unique kind of suffering, torture that hadn’t left your skin bruised but had rather sunken into your pores and gnawed at your insides: fear, loss, mourning.

The agonizing ache lingers in your muscles when you finally awaken.

The mattress beneath you envelopes your senses in a familiar fragrance of warmth and safety. Brightness filters in through the open door across the room and a sliver of light glares in one of your eyes, making you rub your fist against your eyelids to regain focus.

As your vision sharpens, you quickly realize you’re not in your own sleeping quarters.

These sheets are dark, the opposite of the crisp white color you’ve been used to for nearly a year. Knickknacks don’t litter the metal floors and socks aren’t piled up in the corner as you remember. The room is mostly bare, stripped down to the necessities, organized and empty to an almost alarming degree.

Then, a splash of color catches your eye on the durasteel wall near the door. It’s difficult to see with the glare spotlighting your face, leaving your surroundings in the shadows. Deciding to investigate, you wrap Din’s blanket tight around your shoulders, keeping his comforting scent around you like a cocoon. When your sock-covered feet finally carry you across his room to the wall in question, you gasp.

Tacked onto Din’s wall are at least a dozen small pages of parchment depicting lively landscapes of planets you’ve visited and picturesque portraits of creatures you’ve encountered together. Your drawings. You remember the times he’d come back from an easy mission, a charming swagger in his gait, and had asked to see what you’d drawn. He’d always held your booklet in his hands so delicately, taking the time he didn’t have to study and praise your work. When he’d hand it back, you’d tear the page from its binding and whisper, “You can keep it.” You’d never thought much of it, except that you’d wanted to share the beauty you’d captured with him. After all, he’d given you all these beautiful colors to do so. But more than that, you’d wanted to let him see the galaxy through your eyes since his own stayed shadowed by his visor. Whenever he’d allowed himself to indulge in removing his helmet in private, you’d hoped he could see what you saw through the pages. You’d never once thought he’d keep your drawings so sacredly displayed in his quarters, assuming the doodles would eventually pile up in some forgotten corner on the ship. But he’d kept each one.

And right in the center, you see the first picture you’d ever drawn for him: a portrait of Grogu sketched according to Din’s affectionate descriptions. It’s slightly folded in on itself from the way he’d tucked it neatly into his shoulder pouch for safekeeping. When you’d drawn it for him, you’d just wanted to do him a simple kindness, the same way he’d been so kind to help you leave Tatooine behind and travel the galaxies with him. You’d only had your pencil at the time, none of Din’s thoughtfully gifted pigments at your disposal, leaving the portrait of the child monochromatic. But now, vibrant color adorns the sketch, bringing Grogu to life in beautiful tones of green, pink, and brown.

Din had borrowed your chalk pigments and colored it in himself. You imagine him with vivid hues dusting his fingertips and green smudges on his beskar, and you smile.

But when you pull back the folded edge of the paper, you’re surprised to see another figure has been drawn next to Grogu, an image you don’t recognize as work of your own.

It’s… you.

Water blurs your vision but you quickly wipe the tears away so they don’t somehow fly onto the pages and ruin his picture. He’d colored you in your favorite garments, a familiar pink flower tucked behind your ear along with your pencil. Careful, reverent strokes define each of your features. You can’t help but think it looks like you and a stranger at the same time, and you wonder if this radiant image he’s drawn is truly who you are or just how he sees you. And what if those two ideas are one and the same?

You don’t notice Din leaning against the doorframe until you hear your name in a deep, dulcet tone. He whispers it, uninhibited by his helmet, and suddenly your name has a thousand more meanings than just some arbitrary label for the girl who used to be alone. When he says it, your name means survivor, brave, clever, strong, beautiful, his entire heart — and all you want is to dive headfirst into the sweet nectar of his voice.

But then you remember what happened, how you let him get hurt, how you failed to take care of him as Grogu had asked. You don't realize you’re crying until his bare finger swipes away a single tear.

And even though you technically already saw his face — albeit bloodied and distorted — you dare not look at him. You keep your eyes trained low, noticing his unbandaged leg, as his hands caress your skin.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks, voice so heavy with concern it weighs down against your heart.

You nod. “How long was I out?”

“About 16 hours,” he answers, crooking his finger below your chin to pull your eyes to his.

“What about your Creed?” You ask, closing your eyes tight.

“You mean more.”

You expected to hear something more along the lines of ‘you already saw my face’ or ‘I’ve broken it before.’ But no, he says, ‘You. Mean. More.’ They’re three simple words that carry mountains of blissful promises, an echo of a sentiment you’d heard him say about his child, a different time that feels so far away now.

So, you open your eyes, look up, and one of your hands cradles the side of his face. He’s fully healed and the blood from the nightmare before is washed away, the red stain only living in your mind, allowing you to finally see him clearly.

You’ve always had some sense of his face. He’d given you so many pieces, letting your fingers map out his features and answering your questions so you could sketch them onto paper. Some things you can know without seeing. But having him in front of you — stripped of his armor and helmet, a soft errant curl brushing over his forehead, warm tan skin on display just aching for your fingers to explore them the way they did before you’d ever seen him — it feels like setting down the last piece of a puzzle.

He’s beautiful in the way that broken stones and crystal fragments are when they form a mosaic, each piece jagged yet fitting together into a purposeful masterpiece.

And the way he looks at you, like you’re home when all he’s ever known is running… you’ll do anything to keep him looking at you like this.

He enters his quarters fully, extending his arms to hold you closer. When he leans his forehead against your own, you close your eyes. His warm breath tickles your skin, the slope of his nose slowly nuzzling against yours, and when you let yourself peek at him again from under your lashes, you see his eyes are softly shut, the smallest of smiles on his lips.

“When did you draw this one?” You ask, voice but a whisper, nodding at the papers on his wall.

“While you were resting... I’m not much of an artist,” he says sheepishly, watching your fingers delicately trace the lines of his drawing. “But I wanted to keep a piece of you with me too.”

You merely exhale, mind reeling. Any word you think of seems to evaporate each time you open your mouth.

“Maybe, when you finish it, we can hang the portrait you drew of me next to this one,” he muses. “So, at least on paper, we can be a clan of three.”

You nod fervently, your foreheads rubbing together from the rapid motion as you stroke the soft peaks of his cheekbones.

“I can’t believe you kept all of these,” you chuckle, gesturing to his wall of art.

“Of course I did,” he says, fully grinning now, his nose playfully bumping against yours. “They’re beautiful and… they’re from you.”

A sweet sigh escapes your lips, your breath hovering in the small space between your bodies, and you see a flash of pink when his tongue pokes out to swipe a quick line between his mouth. You bite your lip, trying to force your mind to stay silent and not ruin this moment, but knowing you need to address the guilt in your heart.

“You almost died,” you say quietly, the words falling from your lips in broken pieces and shattering on the floor.

“But I didn’t,” he responds, his brown eyes staring directly into yours. “You healed me.”

“I should have...” you start, not knowing how to finish the statement because, even now, you’re clueless as to what you could have done differently. “I should have been more careful. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten caught, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“I’m used to it,” he sighs.

“Well, you shouldn’t be,” you whisper. “Neither should you.”

It stuns you, causing you to pull your face away just slightly, ignoring the way your skin screams to touch his again.

Pain is universal except to those who harden themselves to it and let calluses develop. This is a natural defense. You know this. But the thing is, pain is protection too, another security the body uses to protect itself. From harm. It’s ironic how the ones who feel the least amount of pain carry the largest amount of suffering.

“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt,” you continue, walking over to his bed to sit on the edge. “I promised I’d take care of you.”

This time, he’s stunned. Take care of him?

“You almost died, Din. You shouldn’t have even gotten hurt. I don’t know what I would do…”

“I’m right here, ner kar’ta,” he whispers, moving towards the bed and kneeling between your legs. He cradles your jaw, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. “I’m right here.”

“You almost weren’t,” you say, your lip trembling below his thumb.

“I’m here. With you,” he says, confident. “I always will be, I promise.”

“Din, you can’t promise—”

“I just did.”

As you look into his eyes, you see a fire that tells you this is more than a promise. It’s more than a tenet of the Mandalorians’ honor and you feel it in your bones. He would traverse every system, tear apart the galaxy, fall to his knees to keep it. This is more than a promise. It’s a vow.

It feels like entering a new atmosphere, gravity pulling you into his orbit until your lips meet his, the same way the horizon of Tatooine meets twin suns each evening. He’s soft — so soft — and solid and still, allowing you to release the worry and trauma you’ve been shouldering on your own against his eager lips. You capture his upper lip, press a chaste peck there, exhale, kiss his lower lip, then breathe him in.

When you pull back by an inch, his body sways toward yours like a pendulum, his eyes closed dreamily as he waits for your lips to return to his.

“Din,” you whisper, a single tear rolling down your cheek as you cup his face between your hands like he’s delicate and holy. “Ner kar’ta,” you call him.

He opens his eyes, finding yours glazed with something he’s never seen before but knows is mirrored in his own irises.

“How do you say ‘I love you’ in Mando’a?”

This time, it’s his lips crashing into yours first, capturing your gasp on his tongue. His fingers card through your hair and find a resting place at the base of your head, nails scratching lightly and pulling sweet songs from your mouth. His other hand settles on the crook of your neck, his thumb drawing circles over your clavicle before gliding over your shoulder, then along the side of your waist, finally falling to the small of your back. A gentle pressure pulls you closer to the edge of the mattress where Din still kneels between your thighs, making you gasp again. But he swallows the sound with his mouth, his tongue eagerly licking past your lips. You dig your fingers into his hair and wrap your legs around his torso to stay balanced, though your mind is drunk on his taste and dizzy on his scent filling your lungs.

All you know is him.

The hand on your back grazes across your hip, drags a slow line over the top of your thigh, and squeezes once. Then, you feel fingers tickle behind your knee. In one swift motion, Din pulls your leg higher around him and gently pushes you backward, the hand on your head guiding you as you fall onto the pillow.

He pulls away panting, letting you catch your breath as he takes the opportunity to rake his eyes over your body spread out beneath him.

You do the same, letting your fingers follow the same path as your eyes. He looks positively wrecked, hair sticking up from where you’d pulled it, pupils dilated, his lips pink and perfectly swollen. His breaths seem to come out more labored — but whether from your touch or the shameless way your eyes drink him in, you don’t know. All you know is the flushed skin below his jaw, how it draws your attention to the strong cords of muscle that run up the length of his neck, how his Adam’s apple bobs slowly below your featherlight finger when he swallows.

As your hands continue their exploration, Din’s thumb tickles your cheek with a tenderness that matches the look in his eyes. The shimmering dust of stars glistens in his irises as he gazes upon you like you’re…

“Mesh’la,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I could say the same about you,” you grin, drawing him back toward you and feeling his smile against your lips.

He settles his weight between your legs, moaning into your mouth when you raise your hips to grind against him. He gives you beautiful, desperate noises and you greedily capture each one with your lips. As he kisses you, your nails scrape down his back, his muscles tensing and rippling under your touch until you find the hem of his shirt. You tug on it once, twice, before he’s finally sitting back and pulling it over his head. Not wanting to have to separate yourself from him again, you remove your top at the same time, leaving you both exposed from the waist up. When his face emerges from the neck of his shirt, he looks down and stills, and somehow, you feel infinitely more beautiful under his lustful gaze.

He attaches your lips again, craving your taste like a famine-starved man, ravenous hands exploring new skin as yours leave crescent moons across his back. He kisses your lips, your cheeks, licks below your ear, sucks under your jaw, down your neck, above your breasts — tasting every soft plane with a hunter’s diligence until you’re soft and pliant below him, bending while he bows.

He rocks into you, eliciting gasps from both your lips. Desperately, you scratch impatiently at the skin above his waistband, your hands attempting to push the material down to no avail.

“What do you want?” He asks, pleads against your mouth, moaning when you hold his lower lip between your teeth and release it with a slow scrape.

“Want these off,” you mutter against his cheek, his scruff scratching over your lips deliciously. “Want you.”

That’s all he needs before he unbuttons his trousers, kissing you deeper as he bares himself completely to you.

“Now you,” he whispers, his lips dragging down your body and hovering over your belly, pressing languid kisses to each hip, and biting the skin lower down as he removes your clothes. His breath ghosts over your heat and sends a shudder up your spine, making you arch toward him. His lips roam the soft skin of your thigh, tantalizingly tracing his tongue up toward where you throb for him, and then moving back down leaving you writhing with desire. He gives the same treatment to the other thigh, teasing you with his soft lips until you’re groaning and desperate beneath him.

A surprisingly deft finger opens you to him and your mouth drops agape without a word, pleasure lodged in your throat until he curls his finger just so, pulling the wanton sounds from your lips. As you become more vocal, he strokes you more eagerly, his other hand massaging the plush skin of your body wherever he can reach, watching your face with fascination as he stokes a fire in your belly.

Just as he’s about to put his mouth on you, he feels your fingers tugging his hair, pulling him upward until your lips meld together once more.

“Need you.” The words come out as a growl into his mouth and you lift your hips pointedly to meet his. He hisses at the friction, nodding in understanding when you say, “Now.”

He enters slowly, feeling you stretch around him and engulf him in a heat he never wants to escape. It feels like a release of pressure even as pressure begins to build between your legs. It’s pain and pleasure and perfection all at once. He fills you so completely and he can’t help but think:

“Meant for me.”

He breathes the words out loud into your skin, lips trailing a burning path down your throat as he moves inside you, wicked sounds falling from your tongue when he hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

“What?” You gasp, but he doesn’t seem to hear.

Din kisses you everywhere he can reach, one hand interlocked with yours next to your head while the other pulls your leg higher and tighter around his back, giving him access to parts of you he gets to explore for the first time. It makes him think about the galaxies that always reflect in your eyes and how he’s getting to discover each one of them with you now.

“Or maybe,” he continues his previous thought, a sweet, gentle kiss placed over your heart. “Meant for you.”

His pace quickens and you dig your nails into his shoulders as an invisible coil tightens in your belly. He continues speaking low in your ear, some of the words foreign and others in Basic, though you still can’t understand for the life of you when he’s right there. As his thrusts become more erratic, your core ignites, and intense heat blossoms over your entire body like a flower. And it’s Din plucking each petal until all that’s left in your mind is one singular truth: he loves me. Your eyes screw shut and your toes curl and you’re out of breath and you feel heavy and light at the same time. He moans a ragged sound when he feels you reach your peak, squeezing him until he’s falling over the precipice right after you.

The room is awash in heavy breathing, a fiery warmth scorching every inch of your naked skin as you both pant to catch your breath. You’d like to stay like this forever, you think. No clothes, simply covered in Din. But eventually, he slowly pulls himself out of you and an aching, empty feeling settles in your stomach that screams for him to come back.

He hovers above you, not wanting to crush you with the immense weight he feels. But he can’t fight you when your hands wrap around his neck and mold his smile against yours, lips moving together like you can’t get enough.

You hold each other in silence, heated kisses cooling off into chaste pecks only when it feels too long since the last. Your breaths slow to a peaceful rhythm, hearts beating in time with each other to a secret song only you two know.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he breathes, the flight of his words spinning around the shell of your ear raises goosebumps on your skin.

“What does that mean?” You ask, your hand cupping his warm cheek.

When he looks at you, he sees ferocity, forgiveness, a future, a family. For so long, he never thought he could feel anything close to this. Then, he met Grogu and, just as quickly, had to say goodbye. But when you look at him with such goodness and grace — all he can think of is how he hopes you’ll stay looking at him like this until he dies.

“‘I love you,’” he answers. "Forever."

[READ EPILOGUE HERE]

End Note: We're almost at the end! I just have an epilogue planned. But hey, if you have any headcanons you'd like to see happen in this series, please send them my way! Maybe some blurbs could be arranged :) Mando’a Glossary: Cuyan = survivor [koo-YAHN] Kotep = brave [KOH-tehp] Mirdala = clever [MEER-dah-lah] Kotyc = strong [koh-TEESH] Ner kar’ta = My heart (kar’ta = heart [kah-ROH-ta]; ner = my [nair]) Mesh'la = beautiful [MAYSH`lah] Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. = I know you forever [nee kar-TILE garh dah-RAH-soom] ⎿ “It's the same word as 'to know,' 'to hold in the heart,' kar'taylir. But you add darasuum, ‘forever,’ and it becomes something rather different.” — Republic Commando: Triple Zero

Please reblog & comment to show your support! I’d love to hear your thoughts!!

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tracybirds · 2 years

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TAG asks... I know you've done a lot, so pick one you haven't been asked yet, and then #20 with Alan and Scott.

Thanks 😅😅 I do appreciate the continued indulgence and I hope everyone had some fun with it (although I feel like I fell asleep as the real party started lol I still have so many to read 😁😁💕) Anyways!! I went ahead and rolled a die and came back with 13 - A common fanon you can't get behind

I will pick the fanon that Scott became a father figure after Lucy died. I do think he stepped into that role after Jeff disappeared, and that it has a lot of influence on his relationship with Alan in particular, but I like to think Jeff earned his sons' loyalty honestly and is just as much a good person as they are, and I can't get my head to make that agree with that idea. I think he probably didn't handle his grief particularly well for a time but it seems to me that he wouldn't have let it all fester either and would have reached out for help and that's when Grandma Tracy would have moved in with them, and so even if Jeff wasn't a perfect father in the aftermath (and who would be), it wouldn't have all fallen to Scott.

But also "can't get behind" eh it's not my favourite and it'll never be my own headcanon of what happened but it's still interesting to explore and I've read great fics where the concept is upheld 😁 And I hope they continue to be written because they make for some great conflict and character stories!! I love it!

and then 20 alright okay!!

• Most afraid of the dark

I will say Alan here, he's still got an active imagination about what lurks in the dark and he plays all those video games so I bet he'd easily convince himself that something was out there! He wasn't as jumpy as John on Ghost Ship but he's still caught out a few times I think 😅😅

• Putting off homework/paperwork

Alan - classic situation and one day he is going to get caught out and caught out BADLY (hopefully with something fairly innocuous like school like at least there's a bit of a safety net there)

• Going off the grid for fun

Scott 100% 😁 I can't picture Alan ditching video games for a weekend but I can absolutely imagine Scott throwing all tech in a box and saying screw it, I'll be back in a week deal with it until then 😅

• Reading Jane Austen in their spare time

Scott again!! I said this for Scott vs Virgil too and I still think it fits 🤷‍♀️

• Going to move off Tracy Island first

ooooh okay that's a hard one bc obvs no one leaves in reality but I will say Alan! I can see him wanting to take some time to explore who he is outside of his family and outside of iR, but not for a while yet 😅😅 maybe when he's in his twenties? by contrast, Scott had that time and I think he has a very strong sense of self - he knows who he is and what he wants and his identity as a member of iR is so strong I can't see him leaving for much

• Secretly replacing Grandma's cooking

Scott - Alan cooks just as badly but no one wants to tell him 😅😅

• Taking all the family photographs

Scott for formal dos, he does all the "GATHER!! GORDON MOVE IN, JOHN GO BEHIND ALAN WE CAN'T SEE HIM, VIRGIL IF I SEE ONE MORE BUNNY EARS YOU ARE A DEAD MAN" deal and Alan takes the candids and he's pretty good at it 😄

• Planning a picnic for the next sunny day

Neither of them ahaha, but Scott's the most likely to go along willingly without whining... especially if it's for someone special xD [insert ship of choice here] Alan would whine far too much and then be annoyed that he's having fun lol

#fwwooof and I believe that's all folks #genuinely thanks for playing and I hope you all go to have some fun too 😁😁💕#gonna go read some more responses now!

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geekgemsspooksandtoons · 3 years

Text

You’re Not An Awful Parent

This is basically a birthday gift I wanna write to my good friend/bro @pikablob

I hope you don’t mind this. The title was tricky, originally it was Calm With You. But I just changed it...like, I just thought of the titles. And I’m in the Joheda tag right now making this. This is basically an expansion/remake of this Joheda bit I sent to you in a message...I felt like it was easier to use that as my inspiration. Including use some of my stuff I have wanted to write about.

I just really love these two characters a lot. To the point, I will admit, I do selfship myself with these two. But considering you started to ship these two and I was hesitant at first. Despite I originally thought about them before...I’m glad I started loving this ship.

This likely takes place in my Cartoonverse. Or whatever you want to see it. Yet it will likely take place in that. I hope you love this, and I’m gonna try my best writing it. Because I like these two a lot. Here I go.

So I just finished it, and I saved it once as a draft in case. I changed the title from It’s Calming With You I think. I pressed too much crtl z that I erased the last sentence...I hope you folks like this. I really hope so.

Johanna had all sorts of weird feelings. It felt weird to her maybe because she hadn’t been like this in such a long time. She was a grown woman and...it felt awkward having these feelings...it was like when she was with the man who was her husband.

Her relationship with the man only lasted for a few years. But due to personal issues, he left her and their young daughter. Despite Johanna tried to act like it was fine, it did kind of hurt he left. At times he remembers his name, sometimes she forgets it. But she still recalls he had the same hair color as their daughter.

She felt like after that, she may not feel this way again...then Eda Clawthorne showed up in her apartment one day out of nowhere.

Despite a rocky start, and having Eda return what she had stolen from their apartment. She wasn’t a bad person. Yeah, Eda was wanted by the Emperor's Coven, but that was a whole other story. She was genuinely nice when she wasn’t being sassy or whatever else. Eda was mainly pleasant to talk to, despite how different they are. It was very nice to have an adult friend to talk to that didn’t look at her strange or possibly belittle her.

There was also the fact that Eda’s relationship with Hilda was pretty great. At times, it seemed like Hilda enjoyed being with her more. And that made her sad...especially recently with how she thinks she’s being too controlling of Hilda going out on adventures...but that was another subject.

Johanna liked men, she always did. There was nothing wrong with that. But to her, trust was a very important thing. But...these feelings for Eda felt...so awkward...she felt like she was some shy teenage girl. And to make matters worse...Eda was indulging in it. Saying sweet stuff to her which would make her blush.

Was it...a crush? It had to be, even though if this happened when she was a teenager. Her parents would’ve been upset with her. She never really considered this...feeling towards women. Maybe the aftermath of her husband leaving made her ignore wanting love. Sure, there were always some beautiful men out there. But she always focused on Hilda. To make sure she was safe. That’s what was more important to her.

But because of that...maybe Hilda was right? What if she was being too hard on her? What if she should’ve trusted her more? It was the events with the Black Hound and other things that seemed to have made her reconsider some things. Despite Trolberg was a very easy going place...she just grew paranoid and worried for her daughter. Especially after recent events with a break in once when Hilda had gone out with her friends.

It was night time at the apartment, and Eda wanted to visit them. She was disappointed when she learned Hilda was staying at Frida’s house. But she stayed behind and had some dinner with Johanna...

Johanna just really wanted to talk with Eda, about Hilda and her words. Maybe she would give out some good advice, and she just needed it from someone who has some experience in a way...despite her experience might be...stranger than hers or not.

The two ladies sat on the couch. The tv was on, it was a inoffensive channel Johanna decided to put on. Eda wasn’t really in on it, but she didn’t seem to mind. At that point, Johanna just put on the channel because it was mainly family related, something friendly, and possibly make be background noise.

During their time watching the tv, Eda put her left arm over Johanna’s shoulders. It made her blush, but Eda smiled seeing that. For a couple of minutes, she just wanted to talk to Eda soon, and now it was that time.

“Eda”.

“Yeah?” Eda asked.

“I...really want to talk about something important. It’s about Hilda.” Johanna told her.

“Oh, alright.” Eda was curious. What did they need to talk about? Was it about what Hilda had complained to her a while back? Johanna decided to turn down the volume of the tv with her remote, and she sat it back on the arm rest of the couch. After that, Eda took her arm off of Johanna’s shoulders and just put them behind the couch.

“Is everything alright with Hilda?” she asked her.

Johanna didn’t know how to answer that right away. She wanted to say everything was fine...but her recent interactions with her daughter bothered her. Such as the point of literally grounding her because of the Cauldon Island incident. She had to be honest, but she didn’t know the right words.

Eda just looked at her. She could tell Johanna was trying to find the right words to say. Johanna just had her arms in her lap, looking at the ground, and wondering what to say. But considering what Hilda told her before, Eda guessed what she might wanna talk about.

“Is it because she didn’t be honest with you recently?” Eda decided to just say it. Because it was likely the thing she wanted to speak about. But the moment she said that, Johanna’s eyes widened.

“Wait...she told you?” Johanna sounded surprised when she heard that.

“Well...yeah...we had a long talk about it.” Eda admitted to her. Hearing that shocked Johanna for some reason. While she could trust Eda, but it’s the fact Hilda talked to her first instead of herself.

“She...went to you...instead of me?” Johanna putting her hands up a bit, sounding stressed, and possibly feeling heartbroken by the reveal of that. “But...we were supposed to talk about it first.” She kept getting more confused and was sounding more sad. As if Hilda didn’t trust her to tell how she felt. She kept rambling to herself until Eda stepped in.

“Hey, hey, hey Jo...calm down okay?” Eda grabbed Johanna’s right hand with her right hand, while she patted her back for reassurance. “Take a deep breath okay. Breathe in, breathe out. Follow my lead, okay?” she told her friend and she listened. They were breathing in and out, and Johanna felt better after that.

“Thank you Eda.” She told her, closing her eyes. “So, she told you about me grounding her and me being more worried than usual?”

“Yeah, she did talk to me about it. And we had a talk about it. I can understand of why she would be bothered” Eda continued on. “It was a long talk actually. And I wanted to also check if you were okay too.”

“Really?” Johanna looked back at her.

Eda only nodded and smile. “I mean, that’s why I was bummed out when I learned she wasn’t here. To be honest, it makes me feel warm inside when she sees me show up. As if I’m maybe a celebrity. It’s actually pretty cute.” Eda continued on. While she had Luz admiring her and trying to teach her to become a witch. There was something wholesome of Hilda always liking Eda’s company. Despite they got off the wrong foot.

“...I’m an awful parent.” Johanna said as she looked at the ground. With her hands in her lap again.

“...what?” Eda said, sounding surprised by that.

“I just...God” Johanna put her left hand over her nose. “I just can’t take it...or I worry too much. Ever since so much stuff happened. I’m getting more scared for her to be out there. I know she can take care of herself. But it scares me because with recent things that have happened.” She just looked at her hands, and her irritated voice started to sound like she wanted to cry.

“Recent things?” Eda asked.

“It’s not just the fact she’s been lying to me a dozen times. But it’s the fact ever since this break in at one point, and whatever has been happening with this city. I’m just worried for her, and I think she’s started to hate me for it.” At the moment, Johanna sounded as if she was gonna cry.

“I’m just worried that some horrible person is gonna take her away while my back is turned. Or I’m not gonna be there to help her. As if I’m starting to feel weak and helpless...I don’t know what’s been going on it’s just” Johanna choked a bit because she was starting to tear up.

“Hey...Jo...it’s okay.” Eda tried calming her down. Putting her hands on her shoulders.

“My husband left me long ago because of maybe stuff like this. I don’t know anymore. And I’m just...I’m terrified I won’t see her again. And I’m upset by the idea I’m a horrible mother because you are able to protect her and I’m not. Look at me? I’m just some graphic designer and you’re a bloody witch! You’re everything she wants in a mum! And I’m just...normal! She won’t be honest with me, and she hates me!” She cried out, and then put her hands over her face. She started to cry more.

Eda hated seeing her like this. It hurt her seeing Johanna talk about herself this way. Going far as putting herself down because of recent events.

“And...I feel weird...about whatever we have going on!? I...is it a bad thing? I do like men, but...why do you even hang around me? I’m not like anyone you might’ve met at the Boiling Isles...I’m just a mum who might just get kidnapped, or just doing graphic designs while her daughter goes on some adventures behind her mother’s back.” Johanna said.

At that point, Eda may of found out what was bothering Johanna even more. And she knew she had to make things better. She grabbed Johanna’s head and turned it to face her own slowly. With her hands still on Johanna’s cheeks.

“I want you to listen to what I have to say...your daughter doesn’t hate you. She never hated you. We talked about how maybe you’ve being too controlling. But I did talk to her that you’re just maybe worried...and that you both should be honest with each other...but what I didn’t know is what else you had on your mind.” Eda continued.

“Hilda may possibly consider me a fun mom, and I love hanging out with her. But I am not the one who plays Dragon Panic with her. I am not the one who changed her diapers. And I’m certainly not the one who raised her to be person she was...that was you...not me. YOU.”

Eda really wanted to hammer the point she wasn’t Hilda’s mother. But Johanna was her mother. That no matter what Hilda thought of Eda, Johanna was Hilda’s real mother.

“Listen...I understand being scared for her while she’s out there. Trust me, my magic is weakened and I have to make sure there is food on the table for Luz. But I didn’t want her to worry about that. You need to be a bit more open. You need to make her feel comfy about going on adventures. You’re not always gonna be there to protect her. She’s gonna grow up, and you can’t always have this grip on her. But it’s fine you’re scared.” Eda continued on.

“So no...you’re not an awful parent. You make mistakes. We all do. And I hate it when you talk about yourself like that. It hurts me more to see you cry. You’re not just some human who’s a graphic designer...you’re honestly one of the kindest people I know...and I still feel awful of how we met. I just want to make sure you feel alright and safe...okay.” Eda told her.

“....you really mean...all of that?” Johanna asked her, sniffing a bit. But it seemed like she stopped crying.

“Yes...I meant every word. You’re not weak and helpless, and like I’m grateful that I met Luz. I’m glad to have met you and Hilda.” Eda just hugged her after that.

Johanna felt so shocked. The warmth Eda gave her, and the hug felt so reassuring. It was beautiful that someone did understood her, but also telling her what she needed to do. But also someone who told her that she wasn’t weak or helpless. She really needed to hear this from her. After her eyes had be widen for the hug, she closed them, and hugged Eda back.

“Thank you Eda.” Johanna told her.

“No problem...it’s fine...we both needed to let some stuff out didn’t we?” Eda told her. “And we can sit here as long as you want.”

The two women just sat on the couch for about five minutes. They were just embracing each other.

“I’m sorry...for stealing your stuff and that I possibly made you feel worse.” Eda told her. Sounding sad as well.

“It’s okay...I had forgiven you already...but I didn’t know you still felt awful...I don’t hate you.” Johanna told her back. Wanting to reassure Eda of their first encounter. Hearing that made Eda felt relived even more. Despite Johanna had forgiven her long ago, it was nice to hear the confirmation again.

“So.....you still like men right?” Eda said playfully.

Johanna’s eyes widened, and they got out of the hug.

“I mean...just...I’m sorry if I upset you in anyway. I...feel confused. We’re not in a relationship...I don’t know if we have a thing...I just...feel weird around you. But I think it helped me realize some things. I just haven’t felt this way since my husband left...and while you are always flirting...I really enjoy your company.” Johanna said while blushing.

“You’ve never upset me. And hey...sorry if I...get too close at times.” Eda said.

“No...it’s fine...I think...I just don’t get a lot of affection like that. I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship yet...but I again...enjoy your company. You make me feel better.” Johanna told her.

“Awwww, I understand. I just...want you to feel loved you know? But I never wanna make you uncomfortable. I will admit, I love seeing you as a blushing mess.” Eda said with a smile. “If you don’t want to pursue a relationship, that’s fine. I don’t wanna push that on you. But I will be around if you ever need to talk or anything. Whether it’s about Hilda, us, or anything else. Just...use that weird Nowhere Space you guys use...if Tontu doesn’t mind.” Eda said, comforting Johanna.

“And besides...I don’t mind preferring men. I mean...I’ve been with a lot...some are good...some aren’t so good. A lot of them were nice looking...not as nice looking at you.” Eda said back at her with a smile. Which made Johanna flustered. “But you know...trust is key.”

“Yeah...that’s what I think is important too.” Johanna admitted that.

“...hey...if you don’t mind...do you wanna talk about...your husband?” Eda asked her.

“...I think I’d rather not. I think talk about enough things already.” Johanna said while stroking her hair.

Eda decided to grab Johanna and bring her close to her chest.

“Alright. If we’re gonna stop talking. Then we’re gonna do this.” Eda said playfully.

“What are you doing?” Johanna asked.

“I want you to lay on me...I’m just...kind of hugging you. Trust me...I think you need it.” Eda told her.

“Eda. I need to wash the dishes.” Johanna told her.

“Uh uh...screw the dishes...you’re staying here until I feel everything is better okay?” Eda said, not giving Johanna much of a choice. But she didn’t mind it. Being in Eda’s arms and just on her chest felt comforting.

“What about the elixir?” Johanna asked.

“Already had some before I got here. I packed one in case. You’re not getting out of this, trust me.” Eda wanted to make sure she wasn’t gonna let go for a while. “Now...who’s the most beautiful woman in Trolberg?” She asked.

“....I am.” Johanna blushed when hearing that.

“Damn right you are Jo...damn right you are.” Eda said while keeping Johanna close to her chest.

It was gonna be a long night. While Tontu kept to himself, and Twig and Alfur were with Hilda. The two women kept to themselves, and Johanna wouldn’t mind being just stuck in Eda’s arms for a long time. As the witch stroked her hair gently, and just wanted to make her friend she cared about a lot feel comfortable. Johanna deserved that after everything she’d been through.

#GeekGem's Cartoonverse #joheda #hilda the series #johanna #the owl house #eda clawthorne

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thrillingdetectivetales · 3 years

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Author Interview

I was tagged by the lovely @ianandmickeygallavich1

(Throwing a read more in here because this bitch got LONG!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 136 works across 45 fandoms, just to give you an idea of what a shameless fandom hopping multishipper I actually am.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

My total WC is 676,938.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

By a Thread, By a String, By a Rope The Magnificent Seven (2016), WIP, Kudos: 987

Matinee Suits, 5125 words, Kudos: 947

Careful Application of External Pressure Grimm, WIP, Kudos: 876

This Night Ain’t for the Holy Man The Magnificent Seven (2016), 5578 words, Kudos: 875

Catch It Like a Butterfly Leverage, 1497 words, Kudos: 658

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try really hard to respond to every comment, but sometimes they pile up and the anxiety of seeing the number gets to me and I just mark them all read and start over with a clean slate. So, apologies if I skipped you. I promise it was nothing personal, just me trying to practice some fumbling self-care.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Curtain Call, which is a Roy Harper-centric DCU fic exploring his feelings in the aftermath of the 2015 Red Hood/Arsenal run.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Pretty much all my fic have happy endings, so I’m not sure which one is the happiest. I feel like that’s a subjective question, haha.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do write crossovers! I love crossovers and crack fic premises and wild “okay but just go with me here” scenarios, haha. They’re the most fun to figure out, imo. The craziest one I’ve ever written is probably the Shameless-meets-Ducktales crossover I did for Tumblr Jukebox a little while back, though the one I picked up as a pinch hit for the Crossworks Fandom Exchange just last month, crossing over Brooklyn Nine-Nine with Dragon Age: Inquisition is definitely a contender for that spot.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I received a couple of snide comments on a Matt/Foggy Daredevil fic I did under a different name back when I was in college, but that’s about it.

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

I do! I don’t think I’m particularly bad at it, though I do find it very difficult. I’m not sure what the “what kind” question is asking, exactly, but I actually do a smut writing challenge called Monday, Slutty Monday that includes a list of kinks I’m willing to write. You can give it a gander here, if you’re curious.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, though I have had someone ask if they could use the concept of the lover’s noose from By a Thread, By a String, By a Rope for their original works. I said no, largely because it’s a concept I intend to use in my own original works, though I welcome transformative, not-for-profit works to remix or reimagine or play in any of my sandboxes.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! I was lucky enough to have Doomed to Play, a Magnificent Seven werewolf/vampire AU, translated into Russian several years back!

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

I have not! I am extremely interested, though, as I’m a huge fan of old-school, forum-style roleplaying and I really, really love collaborating on projects, so if you’re interested, please feel free to reach out to me and ask! I can’t promise anything, because I’m lucky enough to live a very full and busy life, but who knows!

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I am not really sure that I have an all-time favorite ship. I have a few oldies but goodies that I revisit pretty regularly, including Harry/Draco, which was baby’s first ship, and Fraser/Kowalski of Due South fame, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a true OTP.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

God, so many of them, haha. I’m terrible about finishing WIPs because I have a very short attention span, but I’m not fully willing to write any of them off because I do periodically poke at the GDocs for a lot of them, even if they haven’t been updated in years. The only one I truly don’t foresee finishing is So Let Us Not Be Lonesome, which is a Magnificent Seven ghost/medium AU, and the only reason I don’t foresee finishing it is because I hope to one day revisit it as an original work.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I’m pretty routinely cheered in comments for writing true-to-character dialogue, really lush sensory descriptions, and tempting food descriptions, so I’ll go with those.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to overwrite and I really fucking love adverbs, haha. I was a big reader of doorstopper fantasy in my youth, which tend to be really, really purple in their prose, so I lean in that direction. I have a lot of betas whose opinions I trust tell me I go too purple quite often, but I love my descriptive language so I’m not sure it’s a weakness I’ll ever overcome. Let’s call it a stylistic choice, for now, haha.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I do it all the time, and I really enjoy it in other folks’ fic, so long as the dialogue is something that a non-speaker can still understand from context. I think I probably wasn’t great with that when I first started writing Spanish-speaking characters into my fic, but I like to think I’ve gotten a better handle on it since then.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I think it was honestly Ronin Warriors, an anime that used be on Cartoon Network’s Toonami block way back in the day. I had a lengthy and involved Mary Sue self-insert fic that got be like, a few hundred pages long, though it never saw the light of day.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

The two currently at the top of my list are Ted Lasso and 9-1-1, though I can hardly watch a piece of media these days without seeing something in it I want to explore that the creators didn’t have the time or inclination to explore, or that didn’t fit their narrative.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh, this is so hard! I honestly don’t know. I don’t tend to go back and re-read my own fic too terribly often, so I’m really not sure, but I will say that one of the ones I think is underrated is The Lady and the Knife, which is a Luther/BBC Sherlock fic that came about because I got tired of Sherlock stans claiming his behavior should be forgiven because he was a high-functioning sociopath and thought it would be fun to see what happened if he ever crossed paths with someone who was actually a high-functioning sociopath and not just a dick. (Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed the early BBC Sherlock and some of the fic is chefkissingfingers.gif, I just really hate it when people require their characters to be morally upright at all times. Let them be villains! Let them be dicks! Don’t apologize for finding that interesting!)

I am tagging @thesummoningdark, @blahblahblahclintnickiscanon, @townhulls, @ksansart @rubinecorvus @persipneiwrites @irolltwenties and anyone else who feels like participating! I have a lot of mutuals who write fic and I’m really bad at remembering everyone’s various handles, so please, if you want to participate but I didn’t tag you, go ahead and do it and @ my ass anyway!

Luh ya bbs.

#tec does a meme #tec writes

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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tagged by @rose-blooms-red

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

Only going with Batfam fics since that’s the fandom I share with Ro, and like, I’m ridiculous and work on literally dozens of WIPs for years at a time in fits and starts, in the idea of occasionally finishing one and posting it in completion which works great in theory but never seems to work out that way in practice OH UNKNOWABLE UNIVERSE, INEXPLICABLE ME.

Which means my Batfam WIP folder, as in fics that are actually in existence in bits and pieces because non-linear writing FTW (dubious), is already ridiculous enough as is. Keep in mind this is the accumulation of like....literally five or six years of adding content and writing stuff here and there. But yeah, also keep in mind like, I’m just ridick. Thing you gotta remember is I write primarily for me, to just get things out of my head. Like, I do really like external validation too, but I’m very very weird in that like, I have tons of stuff people have never read, original and fic-wise, and its not like...because I don’t want people to read them, its just......Things Happen and then they don’t and....yeah. This has been a presentation of Deep Thoughts, By Me. Let’s just say management is aware of the issue and its being worked on.

SERIES

KINGS OF THE SKY (aka that one where Jason doesn’t die, one-shot installments)

Weapons of Choice - Dick POV during his Robin days

Teachable Moments - Jason POV when he calls Dick after the Felipe Garzonas case and everything jumps ship from canon

Blood of the Covenant - Jason POV while Dick’s recovering from the Church of Blood storyline, plus enter The Adoption Issue

There are other later installments that make sense to me but wouldn’t make sense to anyone else without the in-between pieces, so just leaving them out even though whole ones are entirely written ahfishflahfal

BURY YOUR DEAD, LAY THEM DOWN, LET THEM REST (aka Ric fix-it series, plus addressing Lots More, one-shot installments)

Tell Me Your Secrets, I’ll Make You A Ghost - Duke POV with Dick pre-shooting, plus with Cass in near aftermath

You Can’t Take It With You, But Don’t Leave It Behind - Cass POV immediately following previous one, Interlude-ish

The Dead Don’t Live Here Anymore - Ric POV, bonding (slowly and awkwardly and very very dysfunctionally) with Jason and Cass at the same time, hello powderkeg, meet match

The Good Die Young and the Bad Aren’t Dead - Jason POV investigating things hinted at in the previous

Welcome To Purgatory, We Hope You Like Your Stay - Tim POV confronting then awkwardly teaming up with Damian who has Plans re: these Nightwing impostors

Life After the End of The World or What the Hell Are We Even Supposed To Be Doing Now - Jason POV confronting Cass about the secret she’s been keeping re: Dick but its not what he thought it was

A Ghost, A Zombie and a Dead Guy Walk Into A Bar - Ric POV, with Cass and Jason again

The Long Dark Night of Richard John Grayson - Ric vs the door keeping his memories locked up tight

Two Houses, Built In Shadow (aka that one where I build a rival family of villains/antiheroes to act as the Batfam’s foils)

Smoking Guns and Smoking Mirrors - Dick POV and Babs POV, introducing Dick and Babs’ counterparts - 3 chapters plus epilogue

Werewolves of Gotham - Jason POV, introducing his counterpart, 5 chapters

Ghosting the Machine - Tim POV, introducing his counterpart, 3 chapters plus Interlude-y epilogue

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil - Duke then Steph then Cass POV, three long-as-fuck-dear-god-what-was-I-thinking chapters

Providence - Bruce POV, introducing his counterpart, seven thankfully much shorter chapters (its all relative, shut up)

Queen’s Gambit - Dick POV then Cass, pinning down the identities of the rival fam before they can figure out theirs first, format to be determined as everything written for this part is an incomprehensible mishmash of paragraphs out of context hahaha I do things smart

Way Down Deep Where The Sun Don’t Shine - Jason POV, the climax and denoument, five chapters plus epilogue

MULTI-CHAPTER STANDALONE FICS

They Never Said Saving the World Would Go Like This - that epic saga of Dick and Kyle

The Spy Who Forgot To Come In From The Cold - the Spyral + amnesia fusion fic

Ghosts of Graysons Past - John Grayson makes a deal with his old buddy Boston Brand to save his son from his fate at the hands of the Court of Owls, and Jason gets roped into riding shotgun via ‘so apparently I can see dead people now, but not all dead people, just SOME dead people, the really really loud ones’

99 Views To A Kill - that Dick and Boone Vengeance Academy AU

Been There, Done That - Dick fosters then adopts a kid being fucked over by the system in ways eerily similar to his own past, aka does the Bruce Boogie and projects like whoa

The Vienna Game - the Batfam versus a global criminal gang with secrets upon secrets and unveiling some of theirs in the process

The Brothers (Most) Grim - that one where Jason is thrown by Dick being a mob enforcer then supervillain as he prepares to make his return to Gotham, Things Then Do Not Go According to Plan, Dammit Dick

The Patron Saint of Robins - the one where Dick doesn’t forget but everyone else still does

Shadows Cast - that one where Jason becomes Flamebird and he and Dick focus on abused kids in specific

Hunt the Dark - that one where Dick learns some magic in the in-between Robin and Nightwing time, which comes in handy when Jason’s return from the dead is accompanied by some unseen supernatural predator stalking the ghost that got away

SHORT(ish) MULTI-CHAPTER STANDALONE FICS

First, Do No Harm - aka the one where Dick saves a fairy and the fairy’s a little shit about it

We’ve Only Got Nine Lives, Let’s Waste Not A One - aka the one where Dick and Selina bond over something and Bruce has no idea what it is and its driving him nuts - not cute, very angsty, I am sorry

The Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side of the Tracks - aka five times Dick taught a sibling how to trainsurf plus one time they reminded him he gave them good stuff to go with the bad

The Boy in the Red Hoodie - years later, Dick realizes the kid he taught a few self-defense moves during that brief time he ran away in Robin: Year One wasn’t really named Peter anymore than he was really named Freddy

Once Upon A Time In Gotham - that de-aged to a teenager fic

Forget Us Not - Jason and Dick are revisited by reminders of a case they worked on together when Bruce was ‘out of town’ years ago while Jason was still Robin

The Centuries Can Wait - that one with Amelia Crowne versus William Cobb over the course of generations

ONE-SHOTS THAT HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR NOT BEING DONE, WHAT AM I EVEN DOING (oh right, I guess technically I have SOME excuse for fanfic not having been the biggest priority in my life for a few years but look I am Drama, hear me wax rhapsodic whilst emoting most verily)

Where Other Leaves Did Fall - Dick POV, Dick discovers relatives from Amelia Crowne’s side of the family, aka his grandfather had a half-sister he never knew about

Point of Origin - Jason POV, fall-out from the Bruce mindwipe reveal in Identity Crisis and how it might have made his relationships and way of interacting with Dick and Jason in particular like...swerve

Two Wings and a Prayer - Dick POV, Court of Owls wingfic, look, I am me, you had to know there was a wingfic in here somewhere

Sitting In Darkness, Still Waiting On That Dawn - Jason POV, Dick dealing with the revelation of his family’s history re: The Court of Owls

Tell Me No Lies - Jason POV, despite the years and the death between them, post-UTRH, Jason still knows his brother’s tells, and his brother knows his....its why they’re avoiding each other

Witness to a Crime - Cass POV, that thing where you notice things no one else does, but not always knowing what they mean

We’re Just Not Gonna Talk About These And The Passage of Time, That Asshole

Born Under a Bad Sign - and its sequel. They still exist! In theory!

By Lost Ways - oh yeah, I was supposed to get back to posting that huh, I should do that, okay, righteo, that’s a mea culpa my dudes

Tagging anyone who wants to be tagged lol, cuz I suck at this but if you see this and are inspired to do this as well, you can totes blame me for the tagging!

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bobathirstaccount · 3 years

Text

Stars Above

Boba x GN person

TW: drug use

Tags: @vesperstalksclones

CHAPTER FOUR

You ended up not making it very far before a job presented itself. You signed on as a mechanic for a different hanger. When the ships came in it was your job to service them; an additional feature of docking at that hanger. The owner was trying to drum up more business.

It was a moderately successful move, and she kept you on. You had a little room not far away. You went back and forth from your little job to your little room. Sometimes you went to the bar you met Boba. But mostly you stayed away.

You had thrown yourself into a couple of quick relationships, thinking that would help. But it only made you more lonely. No one could replace him. Not his dark eyes, his stoic dry humor, his touch in the middle of the night. Sometimes, when you were frustrated, you would lie in your bed at night and masterbate to the memory of Boba fucking you. It always got you off, but it usually also always made you cry. Why couldn’t you shake him?

A year passed.

***

You opened one eye, having been woken up by the sound of your neighbors arguing. It was your day off and you had passed out on your couch, stoned out of your mind. Great, you thought. And after this, noisy make up sex. You stretched and yawned, still feeling stoned. You realized you were surrounded by the aftermath of your high eating. Food was everywhere. You sighed and began to pick it up. Time to straighten up your place, anyway. You had let it get to be a bit of a mess the past week.

Salazar pinged you, wanting to know if you’d meet him at “your place.” You stopped to respond, a ghost of a smile on your lips. You steadfastly ignored the fact that “your place” was the bar that you had met Boba. You kept this to yourself, a sacred secret life.

You agreed to be there in 2 hours, and settled into housework.

***

The evening was not what you had expected. Salazar wasn’t alone; instead he had brought some of his thug friends. It didn’t bother you that they were thugs, but you had thought it was a date, not a social event. You kept your annoyance to yourself. You couldn’t stand his whining when you got into an argument.

At any rate you had decided to get drunk and you were slung over Salazar as he and his cronies crowded around in a booth. They talked about bounties and recent altercations they had gotten into. It was all boring. Someone said, “Can you believe about Jabba’s Palace? It’s changed hands again.”

“What happened to ole Bib?”  ”I heard the new boss iced him while he was sitting in the throne room.” 

“That’s bullshit, how would they have gotten past security?”

“I swear it’s what I heard. Fett blew him away while he was sitting on his bosses’ seat.”

You smirked at that. What a way to go.... if it were true.

They continued arguing about the veracity of the statement, but you tuned them out. You don’t care about some crime lord who shot Bib Fortuna on his throne. The whole situation seemed very far away from you anyway.

***

You wake up to a ping. Your head is splitting. Drinking was a terrible idea. You moan, reaching for your phone to make it shut up. But the pings keep coming. You open one eye to see who it is. Of course you know who it is; hardly anyone else has your contact information. And even fewer people used it regularly.

Salazar had intended to wake you up with some sweet messages. You grit your teeth and tried to take that into consideration as you answered. You crawled out of bed to make some coffee. You had work in an hour. It seemed impossibly close.

You scurry around your place, getting dressed, brushing your teeth, and drinking coffee all at the same time. You are also trying to keep up with Salazar’s pings. He seems excited about the night before, but you can’t make out why. Your head is pounding and you don’t have time for it right now.

You make it to work without a second to spare. There’s already two ships docked, so you dive into work, forgetting about Salazar’s mysterious pings. It’s not until lunch time that you remember his slew of pings from the morning. You feel mostly better, so as you bite into your lunch you scroll up to review the conversation. As you read you became increasingly confused and alarmed.

He was talking about going to Fett’s Palace with his cronies. Someone knew someone who had received an audience. You have no idea why anyone would want to tag along to a crime lord’s lair. But apparently you had agreed to it last night. You shake your head, annoyed. You are not going.

***

“Come on, babe, you already said you’d go.”

“You know I was out of my mind drunk then. There’s no way I agreed to it.”

“So that’s it then. You’re just going to renege on your word,” Salazar says haughtily. You are arguing in a booth at ‘your place.’

You take a sip of your drink - nonalcoholic - and inwardly wince. Why was he like this. Why did you put up with it? The crushing weight of the answer chased you away from that thought process. Instead you turned back to Salazar.

“I’m not going. You can get another mechanic.”  ”We will for the real job! But we just need you as a placeholder until we can secure someone. Everyone else is already on board; you’re the only piece that’s missing.” His hand ran up your thigh to your groin.

“C’mon baby...”  You give in for a moment, but then push him away, “We’re in public.”

At this Salazar seems to snap, “You just say no to everything! Why you can’t do this small favor-“

“Going to a CRIME LORD’S den is not a small favor. Neither is lying to one.”  ”He won’t care if the mechanic changes. He probably won’t even notice. C’mon this job is really going to put me and the boys on the map.”  They were small-time mercenaries, impatient to move up the food chain. It was a dangerous attitude to have. You realize this, but still you stay with him. You need something in your life.

***

Salazar wheedled for the next week, not bothering to tell his friends that their plans might fall through. He knew he would wear you down eventually. Finally, he did.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“There’s my baby!”

“I’m sticking to the back of the group, and Don’t bring attention to me. I’m Not going to be your mechanic for the job. If you even get it.”

“Our proposal is going to blow everyone else away. We have this, babe.” He grabbed your shoulders and kissed you. “We’re on our way.” With this he rolled out of your bed and started to get dressed.

“You leaving? It’s 2am.”  ”Yeah babe, look I gotta make sure I have everything ready. It’s two days away you know.”  You sigh, “Okay, lock the door when you leave.”  He leans over to peck you on your forehead. The next thing you know you are hearing the door lock behind him.

You roll over onto your back, thinking about what that day will be like. You were going to the famous Jabba’s Palace after all. Fett’s Palace now, you guessed. You felt like a tourist. And you were. This was not your life. You lived on the fringes of it.

Boba entered your mind momentarily, but you pushed his face away. He lived on the fringes too, as far as you could tell. What difference does that make? You roll over and grab the blunt you have on the bedside table. A bit of this and back to sleep, you think.

#boba fett #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett smut #boba fett x y/n #star wars smut #the mandolorian

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afoolforatook · 3 years

Text

On fandom and tragic romance tropes, from someone who's lived it.

Okay, this is kind of…. Idk a very specific vent and tbh one I feel kinda bad about because I genuinely don’t want to make people feel bad for liking reading/writing romantic angst or tragedy and it’s really less of an individual issue than an overall attitude in fandom.

Like, it’s absolutely okay to like not happy endings, and angst doesn’t have to just be for cathartic relief. Angst isn’t only acceptable if it’s to process trauma, you’re allowed to like it just because that’s your taste.

But at the same time…. I can’t help but have very personal feelings about how a lot of fandom spaces treat tragic romance tropes…

(this got really long but... it's something I've wanted to address for a long time)

I'm far from secretive with the fact that when I was 20, my girlfriend Emma (19) was killed in a car crash, along with her younger brother, mother, and aunt, and that a lot of my art and writing is purposefully about processing and accepting that grief. Fandom has been a very important part of how I’ve gotten through the last five years, which I’ll get into a bit more in a minute, but tbh it’s also been a lot harder navigating fandom and especially anything ship-related since Emma died, because of how people tend to romanticize a character tragically losing a partner.

And honestly, it’s not just fandom, it’s media in general. And mainstream media focus on tragic sob stories, shock factor, and BYG tropes is definitely a big part of the problem.

But as much as fandom pushes against mainstream overuse of such tropes, there is a good portion of fandom that falls into the same type of issue. And not just ‘fandom’ in the usual sense, but literary communities, poetry, etc…

The amount of times I see stories or prompts about characters tragically losing their partner, and that being the climax of the story, and then next to nothing about that character actually navigating their grief or being able to eventually start a new relationship or just be happy is just…. It makes me feel physically ill.

Like, people saying how tragic love stories are more interesting than happy endings. Or seeing a post about tragic pairing prompts and people saying things like ‘or they think it's unrequited but then A dies and B finds a letter confessing and they really loved each other but now it's too late’ and more people being like ‘YES YOU GET IT THAT'S THE GOOD STUFF’

Just… really, honestly. It's okay to like angst, even really tragic angst. I’m not trying to guilt anyone out of that.

I just….. Most of the time people just talk about it like ‘oh yeah I love some of that good tragic love story shit’ and the stories focus on the build-up and the shock/trauma of the death as it happens and then the excruciating reaction of the survivor and then maybe a time jump to show them happy again.

But very rarely do people take the time to actually handle the grief. People like the good cry of a character mourning their partner, but the vast majority of creators and fans rush through or skip over everything after the initial drama and aftermath. The ‘tragedy’ is the only part they focus on, and then the story ends and they move on.

And like. Shit. I liked that stuff too, I wrote some of it, years ago. And I’m not saying you can’t ever just leave it there, or that if you want to write tragic romance you always have to explore all the long-term emotional consequences.

But try to have it in mind, to consider what message countless grief narratives that end after the funeral, or maybe a few weeks or months later, teach people about real-life grief. This goes for any kind of grief narrative, but the one I see most, the one I used to ‘enjoy’ most myself, is romantic.

But, after having actually lived it? And knowing I'll have to live the rest of my life as the part of the story that usually isn’t told? It turns my stomach the way it’s often handled.

Like seeing people gush about how angsty a fic/idea is, and ‘OH MY GOD SO SAD CAN YOU BELIEVE HOW TRAGIC HOW DARE YOU. I LOVE SEEING/PUTTING THEM THROUGH SO MUCH PAIN’ gets a bit uncomfortable.

Not because there’s something inherently wrong with ever reacting like that, but because most often I can turn around and have the same people not know how to react when I tell them about Emma, not know how to handle the same grief they were just gushing over in fiction, when it’s real.

Grief is isolating enough on its own, but then it just doesn’t feel great when the worst thing to ever happen to you is a huge trope that people gush over, while very rarely fleshing out the actual reality of what it feels like to go through that or how to respond to someone actually dealing with grief, and eventually having to deal with your own grief.

Tbh it’s why I really just kinda have an aversion to the word ‘angst’ in general, and don’t really like to refer to my own writing as angst, even though I know plenty of people might think of it as such. So much of fandom's handling of ‘angst’ has come to feel like voyeuristic tourism of the grief I deal with every day, and will for the rest of my life.

Just, I know people are always going to like tragic angsty romance, and that’s fine, and honestly, it's not even an issue of individuals, but of how fandom in general treats it.

And again, I really don’t want to make anyone feel bad for liking it, and it has its purposes. And even when it’s not for catharsis, it's okay to just like sad stories just because.

I just… I wish more people would keep in mind that it’s not just a tearjerker story trope. People really go through this. And they then often end up feeling very isolated because people around them don't know how to react to their grief, because their grief makes things awkward and a mood killer.

Like, if you love this kind of angst (and not because you personally relate to it or find it cathartic, but just because, just for fun) but then feel awkward around people talking about their real-life grief, maybe spend some time with that, and think about the topic as a real-world trauma and not just a dramatic story trope. (this doesn’t just go for grief. Any kind of trauma you don’t personally deal with, if you love reading/writing it but avoid actually listening to people talking about their real-life experiences with it, think about why that is.)

I just hate seeing loss and initial dramatic grief responses being this shock factor/tearjerker trope, without ever really seriously addressing long-term grief. Especially when it doesn't even do a time jump or anything, and just ends on the surviving character being forever destroyed; when it focuses on the idea of how sad it is for your favorite character to have to spend the rest of their life alone.

And that’s not even folding in any kind of BYG/queer tragedy tropes in canon or fandom spaces.

And like… on a much more individual, less practical point, I just… there’s nothing wrong with angst but honestly (and especially for characters whose canon is in no way tragic) every time I see it I just want to scream WHY…. Why do that to them!? I’m not saying you have to stop, or that you’re not allowed to write trauma you don’t deal with personally. But I will never not cringe a bit at the ‘painful enjoyment’ of a character going through the traumatic loss of a partner. And it’s a sentiment I don’t really see people being okay with in regards to any other kind of trauma.

I don’t have actual numbers, but it sure feels like fandom treats stories about romantic grief very differently than most other traumas. Other trauma, even other kinds of grief, like a close friend or a sibling or parent, etc. tend to at least try to touch on a theme of recovery, or that the emotional turmoil being covered isn’t just a fun angsty trope to spend a little time in and then move on. And of course, this isn’t universal and plenty of people don’t handle these other traumas respectfully or as anything more than dramatic fuel, but this is the trend I’ve personally seen in over 10 years of tumblr fandom. And to that point, even when traumas aren’t respectfully handled I’ve at least seen people try to bring attention to that, with posts about how to respectfully handle disability or addiction or mental health or abuse. I can’t remember off the top of my head a single post like that about grief, let alone specifically romantic grief. It seems to be commonly accepted that while most kinds of trauma can be explored, but still handled respectfully, the death of a partner can just be done for the Drama. People tend to try to learn about abuse or addiction experiences before attempting big angsty stories addressing that. But doomed romance and a grief-stricken lover (it feels like, in my experience) are much more likely to happen on a whim.

Generally, it feels like other kinds of trauma, while still part of ‘angst’ also keeps a sense of awareness of how that narrative reflects real people’s experiences. It’s not just heavy because it’s big dramatic fictional angst, but because it’s grounded in real-life trauma that everyday people who come across it might relate to. Like... I just feel like a lot of fandom spaces treat ‘major character death’ and tragic romantic trope tags as just filters, like they’re needed because ‘not everyone likes angst, it’s just not their thing’ without really acknowledging that it’s a real trauma that everyday people deal with, where (again, often, but of course far from always, and certainly not in mainstream) other tws and tags like assault or substance abuse, people understand that people they interact with might really deal with those issues and they try to not just use them as dramatic fodder and to portray them respectfully.

But grief, especially romantic grief, seems different. The number of people who will come across a fic or edit or piece of art about a tragic love story, and will have had that personal experience of losing a partner, is much lower than people with real experiences with abuse, or addiction, or mental illness. That’s not a bad thing. I wish none of you ever have to know what that feels like.

But because of that, tragic romance ends up seeming like this distant thing. Like it’s only in dramatic tv shows or movies or literature, or lives solely in angsty fandom spaces as a way to get out a good cry. It seems grand and Tragic, off in its own world of dramatic emotional story tropes.

It’s solely pretty dark edits put to song lyrics, or striking art, or beautifully written prose that rips your heart out. It’s Tragic Romance.

And there’s nothing wrong with that inherently. But for many people, it seems like that is what it becomes: fiction. An angsty trope.

I genuinely hope that’s all it ever is for all of you. I wish I could ensure that that good angsty hurt will only ever be a trope you visit when you need a good cry.

But it’s not just fiction.

It's not just angst for sake of drama or fun or poetic storytelling. It’s not grand or romantic or beautifully tragic.

It’s unbearable. It’s physical pain.

That’s not exaggeration or metaphor. It sneaks up on me out of nowhere and it literally feels like someone is crushing my chest. I’ve nearly broken my hand punching a wall because I needed to make something hurt more than this thing in my chest that isn’t even actually there but it hurts so much.

Tbf I think a lot of my attitude towards this really stems more from fandom trends from when I was younger, and I think a lot more people actually try to flesh out grief more these days. But I just remember so much tragic romantic fic and fandom love from when I was a teenager that didn’t go deeper than ‘look how heartbreaking this is it’s so sad, I wanna make everybody read it and cry and it’s just fun and a story, oh my god I couldn't live with that’

no, of course I don't have a few specific old fics or posts from like superwholock days in mind, that I used to gush over too, and now just the idea of makes me feel actually sick

Idk… like I said. I don't at all want to make anyone feel bad for liking that type of angst, and I feel kind of bad for criticizing it. It just…

It hurts seeing basically your exact situation on angsty prompt lists with people gushing about how good it hurts. Especially when the same people would be (and have been) deer in headlights when they find out you’ve lived the same thing. (Again, this goes for any kind of trauma trope, but most others I’ve seen at least some kind of discussion about before)

Just please, try to be mindful of not just how you write stories about grief, but how you talk about death angst in general. (again, certainly not everyone, but more and more) People know to not just romanticize abuse trauma or addictions or mental illness, and to research, and ask for advice to try to be respectful.

And it’s much more common for someone in fandom spaces, in their teens or 20s or 30s to deal with those sorts of trauma than having experienced losing a partner.

But we exist. And while there is plenty of media out there showing tragic young romance, there is very little (in my experience, after nearly five years of desperately looking) real-world acknowledgment and support, or proof that you’ll be able to survive that kind of loss and still be happy, and even less so if they’re queer.

In a couple of months, it will have been five years since Emma’s death. From day one I have not been private about my loss, whenever possible.

And in five years of saying “When I was 20 my girlfriend died.” to new friends, classmates, potential dates, fandom spaces, therapists, grief support forums, etc… do you know how many other people have told me that they also lost a partner as a young adult, whether queer or straight, by accident or suicide or illness?

Zero.

No one. I’ve had people say how they lost a best friend or a sibling or a parent. And those losses, those kinds of grief are certainly not any less traumatic than the loss of a partner. But even in real life, they’re different. Losing a partner, especially at a very young age when it’s likely your main romantic experience, has different emotional effects, and can be harder to find people who directly relate.

Five years. Zero people dealing with the specific facets of grief as me.

The ONLY times I have ever heard about stories like mine in real life are either the rare article or essay or celebrity story, of which I can probably easily count on two hands.

All the other representation I’ve found is in mainstream fiction and fandom.

And of those stories, those fics, that art, the vast majority have had the partner die in the last half, probably closer to the 75% mark, of the story or arc.

If I’m lucky, that last 25% will focus on the immediate aftermath and grief (especially in fic, while a lot of media might give you a few scenes, and then move on to other character arcs).

If I’m really lucky they’ll show some kind of time jump, to say ‘see, they’re still haunted by their lost love but they’ve tried to move on or can pretend to be happy’.

And so much fandom reception is centered around ‘it’s soooooo SADDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD MY POOR HEART IT HURTS SO GOOD. LOVE ME SOME ANGST’, or romanticizing the idea of being unable to live without them, and if they can, it’s often never really putting focus on all the pain it took to process their grief.

Again, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with this individually, or that you shouldn’t gush and scream over fic or art or prompts that hook you because of angst. But it adds up really quickly, especially when, even when getting good genuine support from people, you still see no one else actually living with that feeling like you. The only place you find it is stories, and then you see people mostly excited over just how beautifully sad it is.

And that just feels… I can’t explain it honestly.

Just, think about how you react to or talk about fic or prompts or art about a character crying over their partner’s body, or attending their funeral, and think about whether you’d feel appropriate doing the same if instead, they were dealing with abuse, or addiction, or self-harm.

Again, that’s not to say you can’t ever gush or key smash or such, but is it all you do?

You don’t have to stop enjoying angst and tragic romance. But think about how I just said that.

Enjoy.

Do you only ever act like you ‘Enjoy’ it (and yes, this includes the ‘I’m such a masochist I just love to cry over them, it’s emotional release that doesn’t trigger me’ reaction), and romanticize it?

It’s fine to, sometimes. But do you also appreciate it, and try to understand the real-world weight of it? Do you know what you’d say to a friend if they told you they’d lost a partner?

That ‘love me some good angst’, Dramatic grief, being the main fandom attitude doesn’t just hurt me or others who have lost people close to them, partners or not.

A big part of fandom, and of just society, has no idea how to deal with grief, their own or others. It’s not a light conversation topic, it makes people feel awkward, or walk on eggshells around you, or tell you how they can’t possibly imagine having to go through that (btw, y'all don’t say this to people. About grief, or trauma, or disability or anything like that, just don’t. I’m begging you. And a rant about that kind of thing is for another day but... )

And then, when people inevitably face some form of major grief themselves, they feel ashamed for not handling it ‘right’.

It hurts, to try to find some acknowledgment of your grief, and only ever see stories that show just the first few weeks or months; the feeling of it never possibly being anything but constantly excruciating. Stories that end on ‘they were alone and sad and that is what their story, their love, will live on as; Tragic’. Or, that skip all the work and the doubt and the backsliding, and just show years down the road, when they’ve got a whole new life, and that grief, that love, is just a sad memory that they have ‘moved on’ from. Just a tiny trinket call back.

It feels impossible to survive, to ever be happy again, when you never see grief being treated as more than a tragic story point. And then, as you try your hardest to keep going, to process and heal, and connect to new people, while not forgetting the person you love, not letting them just become your tragic backstory, you see people gush over tragic love stories, over how romantic it is, over how characters loved each other so much they couldn’t live without them. (Thankfully a good bit of fandom seems to be pulling away from this, but it’s still common)

And, if that’s what it is to lose a partner, your soulmate… then… then how am I able to keep living? Even as painful as it is? If true love means not being able to live without the other person, does that mean I didn’t, I don’t, actually love them enough? Am I selfish for still actually wanting to live the rest of my life, even with this pain of the person I love being gone?

Would people read my, our, story and ‘enjoy’ it? Would they find this romantic? Would they scream over a prompt based on the worst event in my life, and have a good cry, and then move on, thinking how sad and beautifully tragically romantic that story would be? Would this person I love and miss more than anything, become just a Tragedy? Just an angsty sob story to gush about how wonderfully painful it was? Would it become about only my pain and heartbreak, and not about the cruelty of this other complete, unique, independent person who was robbed of their entire future?

Maybe that seems melodramatic or putting too much weight on tropes, or fandom. But remember.

Five years.

Zero real people saying ‘I’ve been there too’.

The only places I have seen my grief reflected (beyond a rare celebrity interview, or article) is in fiction, and mostly in fandom.

For over a decade I’ve seen people key smash and gush over angsty ships in fic and art, and I was one of them for a long time.

And then, when it became real life for me, all too often (not always, of course) people wouldn’t know how to handle my real grief. Even when I didn’t want to grieve, but wanted to remember all the reasons I love Emma. My real-life moments of ‘fluff’ that I cling to, become uncomfortable when they know the ‘angst’ to come.

And I don’t blame them. I’m not angry at them for not knowing what to say, for walking on eggshells. They’re not cruel for that, they’re not unsympathetic, it’s not that they just don’t try.

Because, if I’ve found so few real-world stories about this kind of grief, after looking so hard for so long, how can I expect them to have had much more luck?

If the only places I find stories about grief never focus on the reality of life after the funeral, and the process of not moving past, but learning to handle grief, then how can I expect broader fandom to know how to be comfortable around the ugly, boring, repetitive, not at all romantic parts of that grief?

Just, yes. Write, read, love your angst. But please just remember that ‘tragic love story’ happens to people, and while plenty of people might not want to read it because it’s just not their thing, or too depressing, there are those who see those dramatic prompt scenarios, and personally relate to them (I quite often say the events around Emma’s death read like a heavy-handed soap opera, or Queer Tragedy movie, and had had plenty of people agree, even before hearing all the details. And I have literally seen multiple prompts of ‘best friends secretly have feelings for each other, and then finally confess, only to get a short bit of happiness before one dies tragically’)

Write, read, love your angst, your tragic love stories, just please, be as respectful of grief (in any form, but this is mostly a shipping issue in my experience) as you would be (or should be) of other major trigger warnings. Gush and scream about the big dramatic ‘romantic’ tragedies, but don’t then ignore the raw, uncomfortable, vulnerable, cathartic explorations, or the real people dealing with real loss.

Because damn y’all, I’ve seen ‘I just love a good romantic tragedy trope, yes please rip my heart out’ said so many times, with the same tone as saying ‘That fake dating trope, that’s the good stuff’.

I’ve seen people gush over how much more interesting and beautifully cruel it is for young love to end tragically.

And I promise you. It’s not. It just fucking sucks. It’s not romantic or tragically beautiful or poignant. It’s devastating. And it goes on for so much longer than that last quarter of the story.

My grief is more than an angsty prompt. Our relationship, my love for her, is more than a dramatic sob story, more than just awkward sadness that kills the mood. Emma’s life, her memory, is more than my tragic backstory.

I want to be able to find my story in more than just fiction, I want to be able to get support from people who live with similar grief.

But I also want to see grief in fiction, in fandom, become more than a final character arc or Tragic love story; used for dramatic effect; grand and huge for a moment and then never fully processed, or mentioned again; just tragically romantic and heartbreaking and soooo good and angsty.

Grief is one of the only things we will all have to face throughout our lives.

I’m not just asking you to respect my grief or the grief of those around you. But your own future grief. I don’t want you to get there and feel like your grief is wrong, or means that you didn’t love someone ‘enough’ because it doesn’t manifest in a certain way.

Learning to accept grief; to be comfortable around raw, unpoetic, grief; to not hold up certain expressions of grief as Romantic or Poetic, but just honest, will eventually be personally useful for all of us, as much as I wish it wouldn’t.

I want my grief, everyone’s grief, to be seen, and understood, not just romanticized and dramatized.

My love story, Emma’s love story, isn’t beautifully tragic. It isn’t more interesting or poetic than a happy ending. The pain that I will carry with me for the rest of my life is not romantic.

But it is important.

#mine #my writing #tw #grief #death #car crash #fandom analysis #romantic tragedy trope

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thedistantstorm · 4 years

Text

Project Compass 38

Read along on AO3 here

<< Previous Chapter << >> Epilogue >>

This time: The path forward.

Next time: Epilogue

Though the battle had ended, activity did not cease. The reclaimed bridge of the Compass was even busier in the aftermath. Unsure as to how much of the ship would be safe to traverse, and with as many blast doors closed as possible to prevent anything - but more importantly, anyone - from being sucked out into the void, there was little they could do short of gathering information, then improvising with what they had.

Un'hee had much to give, though. It was far easier to be concerned about those she could help than those she couldn't. She refused to think about what was going on outside, about how the comms had really gone down after most of the ship’s electronics were damaged in the explosions that had all but torn the ship in half or how Ezra had silently stood at Thrawn’s side, and, when it was over, touched his shoulder once, and left with a stony expression on his youthful face. She couldn't do anything about that. There were things she could do here, though. With that in mind, she’d taken it upon herself to march up to each individual crew member, pulling them briefly from their tasks as Thrawn and Vah'nya attempted to adapt standard after-action procedures to their situation. Luckily, the crew had been mostly unharmed, some sported bruises or burns from enemy fire, but those were minor details she could fix without exerting herself completely.

She spotted Navigator Ke'hala sitting on a recovering Khresh's lap, curled up against his chest. The Senior Captain had always been cool and aloof, but he kept a hand on the back of the younger girl's head while she slept. They would be stranded for hours, left to wait while the Steadfast addressed the wreckage of a ship filled with mostly Grysk-aligned Chiss. Nobody commented about the Grysk-aligned part, now. Any loss of life was a tragedy in its own way. Un'hee understood that now, better than she'd ever wanted to.

Two of their crew - the first she'd approached, both had kindly but gravely declined her assistance - guarded the last of their enemies. Their grief and disbelief rolled off of them like stormy seas. It was unpleasant. They had done horrible things, and made horrible choices. The Ascendancy would not forgive or forget it, she knew.

At the same time, they could not sweep away the ugliness of the fallout and pretend like it didn't happen, or it would only happen again. Maybe even be worse. No, Un’hee was absolutely certain would be even worse.

The majority of Chiss who had been allied with the Grysks wore drab grayish coveralls. It made their skin look sickly, and the baggy clothing made them look gaunt and malnourished. Three more crowded around a woman, two of the three kneeling, and the third barring their arms around the woman’s chest. She trembled, and Vah’nya could see holes. Her entire right side had been splashed with blaster fire. Maybe she’d tangled with Vah’nya? Un’hee tilted her head, studying the woman. Her left leg was pulled up to her chest, but the right was laid out straight, the leg of her coveralls ripped. Un’hee didn’t see any blood.

Stepping between the guards and ignoring their sputtering concerns otherwise, Un’hee approached them. “You’re hurt,” She said softly.

All three of the client Chiss turned to her, the two not actively holding the woman upright moving back in concern. “I’ll be alright, Navigator,” The woman said softly, biting her lip and averting her gaze.

Un’hee drew closer, crouching down, hands outstretched in a gesture of peace. “I can help you,” She said, and looked down at the woman’s leg. Furious red pathways were alight, twisting and turning, burned from the inside out. The girl looked up into the woman’s face, then back down at her wounded leg. “Navigator Vah’nya did this to you.”

“I would have tried to harm her first,” The injured woman reassured her. She looked down at shaking hands, curled in her lap. “I deserve this.”

While maybe she did need the injury to remind her of what she’d forsaken, of the way she’d betrayed her people, Un’hee could see this woman, could see all their enemies for what they were: Unmade. Adrift. They needed someone to reach out. Un’hee was struck by the thought that she and all her sisters needed to be that lifeline.

Settling her weight more fully on her knees and carefully peeling back the woman’s ripped pant leg, Un’hee tried to figure out where it started. She needed to understand, needed to-

“Navigator.” Thrawn’s voice came from above and behind her. It was tense, almost pinched with a warning note to it. He didn’t want her so close to their enemies. He was trying to protect her. And she hadn’t been doing a great job of listening.

“She needs medical treatment,” Un’hee said, not looking back at Thrawn. She knew if she looked back she’d be forced to desist. She’d already disobeyed him so much already. “I can-”

“You might be able to help those blaster wounds,” Vah’nya said. When she’d come to stand beside Thrawn, Un’hee had no idea. “But there is nothing we can do for her leg with the supplies we have here. We’ll be able to treat her aboard the Steadfast. I’ll make sure of it.” Vah’nya took a knee beside Un’hee. She wondered if Vah’nya could also feel the pressure of Thrawn’s question like a physical thing. “I know it is painful,” She said to the woman. “Your wounds do not appear to be fatal.”

“I will be fine, Navigator,” The injured woman said.

“Who among you is injured?” Vah’nya asked louder, to the whole group of them, the nearly twenty traitors who had managed to survive. When no pressing answer came, the senior Navigator nodded. “You may heal her as much as it is within your power to do so.” Un’hee reached out but Vah’nya grabbed her hand and waited for her to meet her gaze.”Do not strain yourself. Just because you can do something does not mean that you should.”

Un’hee scoffed. “I won’t. I’ll help her out and go sit with Senior Captain Khresh.”

“And you will not leave the Senior Captain’s side until instructed otherwise.”

“Yes, Captain,” Un’hee said.

“She’s never going to follow that order,” Vah’nya said softly, the two of them leaving the young woman to her self-imposed task.

Thrawn’s eyes were hard. Dryly, he commented, “She has yet to follow a single order I’ve given her today.”

Vah’nya inclined her head. “And she’s responsible for compromising the navigation systems. ...And the ships engines.”

“Do not remind me,” Thrawn said, eyes pulsing just that little bit brighter to indicate he was rather displeased at the girl’s actions. “She also coerced me.”

“I heard,” Vah’nya commented mildly. She sat on a console that no longer functioned properly. Thrawn didn’t admonish her as she suspected he might have normally, but then again, most of the others were scattered in clusters and corners, few sitting at the dead ship’s controls to complete their tasks using what equipment came from their emergency stores. The bridge was mostly empty, the majority of their skeleton crew amassed near the hatch. “That’s what Navigator Mi’yaric suggested. I suspect that the Admiral will have some choice words for her once this situation is sorted out.” She rubbed her arms awkwardly.

“Is that,” Thrawn assessed her. “After you and-” He didn’t say Eli’s name. He hadn’t even mentioned the other captain once Ezra had triggered the remote and the comms had gone down. Still, Vah’nya wasn’t fooled.

“The Ascendancy was willing to let him go. The Grysks were foolish enough to think him a hireling, contracted or ordered to track you down.” She smiled ruefully. “Then I’d had a dream.” She nodded toward Navigator Un’hee, still at the client Chiss’s side. “Un’hee was brave enough to confront you, at least. I hid in the engine compartment until he’d been tagged by the Grysks.” The silence spanned between them. It wasn’t unpleasant. “If you think he’s mad at you or Un'hee," She trailed off and shook her head. "I had had basic training, of course, but I was rusty. How often does a Navigator need to defend themself?”

Thrawn stood close, listening, but not commenting. And really, what was there to say? The Navigators hadn't been trained beyond their abilities. Not in a way that suggested they'd ever see combat. They were children.

But now, they wouldn't always be.

"Anyway," Continued Vah'nya, softer now, "Once I was," She parsed the correct word, "Better, the Admiral lectured me for hours. She'd had time to get herself under control so she didn't yell at me, exactly," She looked up into Thrawn's face. "But we both know she's more frightening than the Families ever could be."

Thrawn nodded. The Navigator wasn't wrong. "You were watched closely."

"I was allowed to stay on your family's estate while Eli recovered. I suspect you and Un'hee may spend some time there as well."

"Of that," Thrawn exhaled, "I have no doubt. Coercion aside, I am undoubtedly guilty of desertion."

"In a way," Vah'nya supposed. "But not without good intent." She shrugged, nonchalant. He was turning from her but she reached out to touch his arm. "You'll get out of it, what with Ke'hala and Un'hee."

"Perhaps," Said Thrawn, almost distractedly. With that, the conversation was over and Vah'nya let him go. They had spent only the briefest of moments speaking to one another, however Thrawn was still acting commander (at the very least until Ar'alani arrived), and thus the other groups monitoring the deteriorating ship's status required his attention and direction.

He didn't get very far.

There was commotion near the damaged hatch. The men and women stationed there blocked Vah’nya’s view. They stiffened to attention then parted, stepping aside. “Thrawn,” Vah’nya said, pushing off the console to return to her feet.

Emotion passed over him in a cresting wave. She blinked and he went from stoic and reserved to open and honest and worried. Another blink and it was as if nothing had happened at all. She saw him move before he did, saw the way his fists clenched in one telling twitch before he let his hands fall limp at his sides.

Eli’s tunic was ripped, burned and bloodied but not unrecognizably so. The same went for his face, a small burn on his forehead, a weeping scratch just outside his left eye, and the grime that came with battle mottling his dark skin with debris. His chestplate looked to be dented from concussive force, likely the explosion he’d been running from when they lost had lost contact.

Ezra was holding him upright, Eli’s arm slung around his shoulders as the young Jedi helped him limp into the bridge. Thrawn had turned to beckon her forward, but Eli caught his wrist, slowly shaking his head. He said something that she couldn’t hear halfway across the bridge, and nodded down to indicate what appeared to be an injury to his foot.

There were limitations, afterall, to what she and her sisters could do. They were not gods. She could heal him, but it was all or nothing. And if she healed broken bones wrong, the damage could be far worse in the long run. They’d learned that the hard way. She looked over at the woman Un’hee still knelt beside. They had learned many things the wrong way.

It was nothing at all like what Vah'nya had pictured in her mind's eye. She had expected something romantic, for there to be at least some exchange of sentiment after all the carrying on Eli had done earlier. He had regained consciousness in the Steadfast's medbay drawling vehemently in his native language, 'If that kriffing bastard thinks I waited this kriffing long for him say he loves me just to sit here with my thumb up my kriffing ass while he goes and gets himself killed, he’s got another thing coming,' and Vah’nya had watched the recording. She’d seen Thrawn kiss Eli with an urgent sort of desperation no grainy security holo could hide.

This was… quieter. Very carefully, Thrawn dipped his shoulders to position himself beneath Eli’s other arm, the Chiss and Jedi more carrying him than allowing him to walk to the command chair at the center of the bridge itself. Ezra excused himself immediately, and Vah’nya felt his presence as he swept around by Un’hee, checking in on her before lowering himself to the floor at her feet, his back pressed against the console she’d once again sat upon.

“Is he alright?” She asked, never once taking her eyes off the pair of captains. Thrawn’s face was its usual calm mask, but his eyes betrayed him. She couldn’t see Eli’s from this angle, but he appeared to respond to Thrawn’s questions as the older man produced a kerchief from his pocket and began to wipe away the grime from the human’s brow.

“Mostly bumps and bruises, I think.” Ezra commented mildly. “ He didn’t want you or Un’hee to… y’know. One of the walls caught his leg and crushed his foot. He said it was a job for a doctor and bacta.”

“He’s not wrong,” Replied Vah’nya, snorting, “I am not great at setting bones, especially the small, delicate ones.”

Ezra looked up at her seriously. “What you and the other Navigators can do is special, Vah’nya.” His gaze swept across the room, taking in Un’hee and Ke’hala. “It’s not something to take for granted.”

“I agree.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and he covered it briefly. Squeezed her fingers and let go as she pulled away. “Just because we have these powers does not mean they should be used excessively. They are a tool.”

“They are,” Ezra agreed. “They shouldn’t be what defines you,” He thumped his closed fist over his heart. “They’re just one part of a greater whole.”

“You sound like Ivant.”

Wryly, Ezra smiled. “Well, I think he’s got the right idea.”

Admiral Ar’alani stood proudly on the command walk when the order was given. She was not, however, the one who gave the order. To her right, Senior Captain Khresh -still pale, but insisting that he was well enough - delivered the order to fire a full laser salvo at the derelict Compass. Together, they watched as the vessel’s failing reactor ignited and the ship erupted into a blinding fireball of light.

“And so the first chapter comes to a close,” Senior Captain Khresh said hoarsely.

“So it does,” Ar’alani agreed, resolute. She turned to Commander Faro, standing a respectful distance away, as if this were something she were not already such an integral part of. Ar’alani would dissuade her of that soon enough. “Commander, make preparations for our journey to Copero. I have been advised that our allies from house Chaf will be meeting us.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Replied Faro.

“Hold my communications unless they come from the Aristocra itself,” She commander tersely, not waiting for the inevitable confirmation from her bridge commander to take her leave. “Senior Captain, with me. It is time for us to address today's action with the admiralty."

Eli's foot had been treated, Thrawn realized. It was the first thought he'd had upon entering the admiral's office, his gaze drawn immediately to the crutches discarded in the far corner of the room, and the man who remained upright without them, perhaps in stubborn defiance or accelerated recovery, he wasn’t sure. They had been separated when the hull had been breached just outside the bridge by an expert team aboard the Steadfast. Thrawn had directed traffic as was a commander's duty, and a fading, injured Eli had been swept away by a team of medics. Whatever treatment he had received, he hid his pain well. Only the barest hints of it remained visible in the lines of his face.

He had meant to ask about the man’s condition, but the words weren’t enough. There was much they needed to discuss, words to be spoken that should not be diminished by decorum. And decorum would be necessary. Ar’alani and Khresh had gone ahead of him, settling into the comfortable seating that surrounded the admiral’s desk. Like the woman itself, the furniture pieces were regal yet functionally minimal, all dark tones and burnished metal.

The three of them had spent the better part of a shift in conference with the majority of the admiralty, discussing both the issues of Chiss subjugation and the Navigator’s gifts, their newfound barriers and benefits, as well as the immediate impact on both the military and political playing fields. There were several major takeaways, the largest one being that no Grysks with knowledge of the Chiss Navigators’ abilities had escaped, to their knowledge. There was no indication of a long-range transmission ever relaying this information to the greater Hegemony.

All in all, it was a win for the Ascendancy.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

“You should sit,” Ar’alani said, and at first Thrawn had thought she was speaking to him. He hadn’t moved much further than the doorway. She had, in fact, been addressing Captain Ivant.

“I’m fine here,” He said, unmoving. “If it’s alright by you.”

Ar’alani inclined her head. “Suit yourself.”

The oddity of her casual regard was not lost on him as he took the remaining seat in front of Ar’alani’s desk. Khresh crossed his arms and crossed one leg over the other, watching the admiral intently, no doubt waiting for her to begin. Eli remained behind them.

“There are still several matters we need to address.” Thrawn was hardly surprised. The Admiralty aside, Ar’alani’s ship had suffered a damaging blow that he had caused. He’d felt her furious gaze upon him multiple times during the lengthy discussions with the high admirals. But instead of speaking to him, Ar’alani directed her gaze to Eli once more. “Was your business settled?”

“Yes,” He replied. “The changes were applied retroactively, effective from zero-hundred hours the day I submitted the paperwork.”

Ar’alani nodded gravely. “You’ve lucked out,” And this time, she’d been speaking to Thrawn. “The playing field has changed. As of yesterday at the beginning of your shift, you were tasked with a priority high-risk mission to recover the renegade ship Compass.” She tilted her head. “You, under your mandate from the Ascendancy, were sent with a Navigator to infiltrate the enemy’s defenses and assess the threat to our people.”

“I abandoned my post,” Thrawn refuted.

Ar’alani jutted her chin toward Eli, eyes alight with fury, wordlessly stating that Thrawn clearly did not know when to remain silent.

Thrawn turned to look at him and froze, gaze landing just below the man’s chin. He wore no uniform, only the solid black dress of non-CDF personnel stationed aboard a warship. Eli said, “You did as commanded, were captured by and later extracted from the enemy’s custody by your mission partner, and ultimately regained command of the warship aided by our combined forces Navigators.”

“Mission partner,” Khresh said, knowingly. “Poetic, isn’t it?”

“The holo-footage from my hangar would certainly be illuminating,” Admiral Ar’alani said flatly, and Thrawn stiffened. “Regretfully, Mitth’raw’nuruodo disabeled the holo-feeds prior to his departure and none was recovered.”

“I-”

Ar’alani descended upon him like a predator, leaving no room for argument. “If he had defected as some desperate ploy, I would likely have to chain him to my bridge since he thinks himself some kind of trading stock, rather than a member of my senior staff. I would think that he knows better, yes?”

It was a question, and it wasn’t. The only answer was a confirmation that doubled as a promise that it would never happen again. “Yes, Admiral.”

“Good.” She nodded resolutely and let the subject drop. “We are on course for Copero. I am told that your brother and several representatives of house Chaf will be present.”

“Joy,” Khresh commented blithely.

“You,” She said to Thrawn, “Will stay planetside while we,” She indicated herself and Khresh return to Csaplar with our quarry. I believe you and Ivant will have a great deal to discuss regarding your new position before it is finalized.”

“New position?” Thrawn queried. Then, remembering, he shifted in his seat, turning to face Khresh. “You assumed I was an admiral,” He recalled.

“The Senior Captain jumped the gun on that one,” Eli said. “The Chiss don’t tend to promote retroactively unless someone dies.”

“True,” Khresh acknowledged, then explained, “I had assumed Ivant’s plan was already in motion and that you were aware of it. Obviously, you were not.”

Ar’alani picked up on the silent question in Thrawn’s eyes. “Captain-” She inclined her head toward Eli. “Excuse me, Director Ivant has been laying the framework necessary to recruit a politically unbiased admiral to be his military counterpart to the Ascendancy’s Compass Program for several years now.” She said gravely. “A candidate has presented themself.”

“I don’t understand,” Thrawn said, honestly.

“What is there to understand? The list of appropriate candidates was rather small,” She quipped, and it was almost a teasing jibe, if not for the gravity of the situation.

“If this isn’t what you want,” Eli said, earnestly enough, “You don’t have to. I’ll-”

“Eli is incorrect,” Ar’alani admonished with a blazing glare. “You do. He did not sacrifice himself to our enemies so that you could come back and be indecisive. He did so because we need you. He believes that this is how you can best serve our people.”

A warm hand squeezed Thrawn’s shoulder once before letting go. Thrawn looked up at him. “She’s right,” Eli swallowed against the weight of his convictions. He was so steady now. “They need us: You in command, and me helping prepare the next generation of Navigators.”

When no further resistance came, the admiral continued. “You will report to the Admiralty, while Ivant will report to the Council of Families and greater Ascendancy. That should leave you on even ground. The specifics will be determined after the Senior Captain and I conclude our business on Csilla.” This time, Ar’alani gave the barest hint of a smile, tempered by cool grace. “I believe the logistics of this arrangement will prove advantageous, should certain situations be resolved in your favor.”

“We’ll see,” Eli asserted sternly, no doubt catching her veiled double meaning. And yet, when Thrawn met his gaze, he was smiling.

#thranto #eli vanto/thrawn #thrawn #eli vanto #vah'nya #un'hee #ezra bridger #ar'alani #my writing #sw fanfiction

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drinkupthesunrise · 5 years

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2019 Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange Letter

Hey! While I’m pretty sure I will love WHATEVER you make me, if you are in need / want of some advice, the following may be of interest to you:

In general, I like: pining, unrequited love that turns out not to be unrequited, people being friends & in love with each other generally, found family, ridiculous references, fic that explores what characters mean to each other in a greater context, alt!timeline shit (ie, what would happen if a character had made x choice instead of y), complicated relationships, baby/kid!fic, hurt/comfort.

Things I do not want: character bashing, unnecessary character death (ymmv here it’s Star Wars, characters die, I accept that, but please don’t kill anyone off in the pairings, canonical deaths are fine), gratuitous / explicit violence, mundane!AUs (coffee!shop, high school/college, etc), dubcon/noncon in any form, cheating, first person POV.

General links that might be useful to you: my ao3 works, my fic writing tag, my ficlet tag, and my general star wars tag.

General note: I like characters, and relationships, best when they’re situated in a world that feels real, and that means having other characters around them, and the relationships between them. While the pairings below should definitely be the focus of any fic, please feel free to slip in other things that you think I might like. I think what’s below should give you an idea of that, hopefully :D. For instance, I adore Wedge’s relationship / friendship with the rest of the Fab Four / his pilots in general, and I find the Han / Luke / Leia dynamic endlessly fascinating (both platonically and romantically on all sides), I’m always up for guest appearances from anyone from any point in canon.

Also, in every universe, Wedge Antilles is bisexual. That is very important to me.

Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker

Would happily take anything, but specific loves include stuff with them founding Rogue Squadron and that early part of their relationship, where they’re a little unsure and unfamiliar but still utterly trusting of each other? Or in the aftermath of Endor where Luke’s off founding the Jedi Order and Wedge is off fighting the Imperial Remnant and they’re trying to work out if they could have a relationship in all of that? I really love these two, the relationship between them really is one of my all-time faves.

I am also desperate for pre-and-post-TLJ era fic for them. What does Wedge make of Luke’s choices and decisions? Did Wedge go with him to Ahch-To? If Wedge is present, how does that affect the choices Luke makes?

I would also sell my soul for Jedi Academy-era fic in which Wedge is a teacher at Luke’s Jedi Academy, either with them in an established relationship and founding the school, or where Wedge gets involved somehow and slowly realises, oh, actually, Luke is very attractive and there is a lot of pining, and Luke is off having the same realisations about Wedge.

Wedge Antilles/Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker

In which Wedge Antilles and Mara Jade have precisely one thing in common: they both think that Luke Skywalker is endearing and also kinda useless, and would do anything for him. Which includes teaming up to save Luke when he gets into yet more trouble (insert situation of choice here) despite the fact that Mara is really not very convinced by this short flyboy with floppy hair who cannot act, and Wedge is not really over the fact that Mara wanted to kill Luke. Bonus points for them discovering that they have far more in common than they think, and for Talon Karrde & Booster Terrik background shenanigans.

(I’d be okay with platonic!wedge&mara, if you can’t get that bit to work, but I would like Wedge and Mara to both be in love with Luke - or on their way there - and for Luke to love them both back.)

Things which I would also be down for: Wedge and Mara having a drunken one night stand, and when Luke hears about it he is very jealous and also how that might just be the answer to all his problems.

Wedge Antilles/Leia Organa

I think Wedge and Leia are very alike, in some ways - both soldiers with a sense of duty that goes far beyond themselves, who’d sacrifice their personal lives for their ideals every time. So anything that builds on that, really; either early Alliance / Rebellion (pre / post Yavin), with Leia still trying to sort out her feelings for Han / Luke and working them out with the person who is the mid-ground between the two (fight me on this Wedge is Han’s smuggling no-good self crossed with Luke’s idealism and good!man nature), or possibly after the Jedi Temple Massacre, or post TLJ, where they are the last two left standing and seek solace in each other?

Also! If you have read the 2013 Marvel Star Wars comic (the Wood/D’Anda one), you should know I was so very very very weak for Leia as Squadron Commander and Wedge as her second, and I cannot believe that was an actual thing that happened in Legends okay??

(as you can see below, I like Han/Wedge too, so please feel free to alude to polyamory / open relationship stuff with Han/Leia in the background if that takes your fancy.)

Wedge Antilles/Han Solo Okay I can hear you probably going ‘huh what’ and I submit to you these quotes from the X-Wing books, and actually the entirety of Solo Command as a book. Essentially, Corellians giving each other shit. But no seriously in Solo Command there’s a real easiness and willingness to tease and I’d be really interested as to how they got there, and if it ever was anything more.

Also, in new canon – I’ve always figured that Wedge and Han might have a bit of antagonistic start to their relationship, Wedge is much more of a believer and very willing to die for the cause – how does he react when he finds out what Han did in Solo? Aiding Enfys Nest? Does that change his feelings?

(as you can see above, I like Leia/Wedge too, so please feel free to alude to polyamory / open relationship stuff with Han/Leia in the background if that takes your fancy.)

Wedge Antilles/Biggs Darklighter

They must have known each other on Yavin, so it’s not inconceivable that they might have met and, y’know, got it on. So quick and dirty introductions, or possibly even something set later, after the Death Star battle, where Biggs!lives and the two pilots who didn’t get that shot off try and find solace in each other.

Wedge Antilles/Bodhi Rook

So – well, Wedge was at the Imperial Academy for a time, as was Bodhi, and although it’s unlikely they were in classes together, I think that their paths could have crossed; what’s it like when they see each other on Yavin all those years later? If Bodhi is the only survivor of the Rogue One team, and Wedge is the only survivor of the original pilots (Luke is too new, really) do they find solace in each other? Do they only really catch up after the war with each other, and suddenly realise that no one else is quite going to understand their grief? (I am heavily into Wedge Antilles has a case of survivor’s guilt the size of a Star Destroyer this ship only compounds my feelings).

Wedge Antilles/Lando Calrissian

They took down a Death Star together, that’s a start. I think the other thing about these two is they’re both very set on keeping their people safe – Wedge with his pilots, Lando with the people of Cloud City, and they have principles and lines they won’t cross but they’ll go through hell and back to try and save as many as they can. So maybe something about that?

Wedge Antilles/Mon Mothma

This was mostly crack, until I incepted myself (and several other people) with it, and now I have very serious feelings about it and I want them to be in love. And have really good sex.

I think they are both serious impassioned people who want to do what is right, only Wedge is brash and daring and Mon is tempered by experience / diplomacy. So maybe something where Wedge does something reckless and Mon has to take him to task for it? Or Wedge trying to lure Mon out of her seriousness, but also he is a very serious person himself but seriously, Chancellor, you have been at your desk for twenty hours please come to the mess. Love letters – they write letters after the war and slowly fall in love?

I also have many, many feelings about how Mon apparently trained as a starfighter pilot after the fall of the Republic and was ready to quit the political life until she realised she could do more good there. What about a universe where becomes a pilot, becomes the senior starfighter officer. Does it turn into mentorship or a rivalry? Or maybe Mon—as chancellor—just decides to use her training and goes on a mission with Wedge and Wedge is completely and utterly impressed by her.

Fucked-up power dynamics are also very much a feature: Mon is ultimately Wedge’s commander in chief, his life is in her hands, etc. I like the power play, I like it a lot.

Wedge Antilles/Amilyn Holdo

There’s something about the way Amilyn reacts to flyboys doing stupid things, like she has seen it all before. Maybe she has? I feel these two would have really good banter and a very sparky relationship, lots of challenging each other. But also mutual respect, possibly found later – they are both very good at their jobs.

I’d love fic set post-Rebellion era, where they’re both trying to find their footing in the new Galaxy, or maybe fic set around TLJ – what if Wedge is with the Resistance? Does he conflict with Amilyn over her command decisions? (I think Amilyn should still have charge of the Resistance, don’t make Wedge outrank her.) Can he mediate the conflict between her and Poe? What if Wedge is with the Republic and brings a fleet to save the day?

Wedge Antilles/Louis Hoshi (Battlestar Galactica)

everyone SHUT UP yes i have a type yes it’s stoic dark haired men who face great personal tragedy and still do their duty SHUSH

Look, I’m not even going to attempt to justify this one.

Anyway, I have two main thoughts on this. One, the Pegasus finds the GFFA instead of the Galactica, probably shortly after Yavin, and Wedge and Hoshi bond over basically losing everyone they’ve ever cared about. In the second, post-Blood on the Scales / The Oath and that horrendous mutiny, the Galactica finds the GFFA, and Hoshi finds a kindred spirit who has sacrificed and believes in doing his duty just as much as he does.

Wes Janson/Derek “Hobbie” Klivian

So Wes and Hobbie are like the ultimate wingpair / brothers-in-arms, they are two peas in a pod, and I love them. I like slow realisation of feelings, the dragging out of the relationship over the years, perhaps one of them pining away whilst the other one wakes up one day and is like ‘oh, it’s you, you’ve been here all along and I never noticed.’ But also! Comic shenanigans, prank wars between them, practical jokes, truth or dare - I’m easy to please, honestly.

Jagged Fel/Jaina Solo/Zekk

Okay, for those who didn’t go and read all of Legends… Jagged Fel is Wedge Antilles’ nephew, Jaina Solo was Han and Leia’s daughter, and Zekk was one of Luke’s students. There was a bit of a love triangle going on. However, in many points, it was less of a love triangle, and more… well. They should have all banged.

Key moments include that time Jaina and Zekk were in a hive mind, and got slightly confused over whose memories were whose, leading to this conversation:

Our boyfriend means business, Zekk observed.

Don’t know that it’s him. And it’s old boyfriend.

Right. We’re so over him.

We?

And also the bit in Legacy of the Force: Invincible, where after Jag and Zekk help pull Jaina out of a sticky situation, she, in a state of confusion due to her banged up head, asks them to both to bunk with her.

So, basically, I want poly shenanigans – fic after the proposed quarters sharing would be great (what if Jag and Zekk took her seriously and had already moved everything about by the time she came round???), messy relationship rebuilding after the Dark Nest fiasco, something where Zekk steps in as Jaina and Jag’s relationship starts to fall apart post NJO? I dunno. But I want them all to kiss.

Plourr Ilo/Evaan Verlaine

They are both kickass lady pilots, and they are both very gay, sooooooooo… it is a crime that they do not exist in the same canon. I want shenanigans. I want an encounter where one or both is undercover and they don’t realise the other is a rebellion / new republic pilot until after everything. I want them on different squadrons trying to one up each other.

Iella Wessiri Antilles/Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker

Okay so look what I really, really want is the utterly tragic fic after Mara’s death where Iella ‘I know what it feels like to lose a spouse’ Antilles and Wedge ‘I loved you once before who says I can’t do it again’ Antilles decide that they’re going to put Luke back together again, in whatever way it takes. Featuring movie nights, bed sharing and a lot of relationship negotiations.

Also acceptable would be fic set around the time of the X-Wing books, in which Wedge is trying very hard to move on from Luke but is doing an utterly terrible job of it but also really really likes Iella, and the mess (and eventual happy polyamory negotiations) that comes out of that.

Iella Wessiri Antilles/Wedge Antilles/Diric Wessiri

So, Diric really didn’t seem to have any objections to Iella and Wedge getting it on when Wedge (tragically) goes to ask Iella out in the Krytos Trap. So what would happen if something had happened between Wedge and Iella. How do the three of them navigate that—does Diric try and encourage them and leave them to it only for Iella to miss her husband too much, or does Iella try and ignore her developing feelings for Wedge in favour of her marriage.

I am also very interested in what happens if Diric lives—Wedge and Iella still have that tension between them, does that develop? I suspect they both feel absolutely awful about it and try to keep it underwraps while Diric is subtly—or not so subtly—trying to push them together.

Somewhat related thoughts: based on the fact that Iella and Diric married when Iella was very young, and she took his last name when that’s not the standard for independent corellian women… I have an elaborate headcanon about how she married Diric to get out of a really bad home situation, and only fell in love with him later on. How does that play into the dynamic?

#star wars rare pairs #rare pairs #exchange letter

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whopooh · 5 years

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Miss Fisher’s Whumptober – master post

October this year was proclaimed as MFMM whumptober – and there were so many lovely fics posted to this challenge. Here, I have collected them all, to help you find your favourites again, or find new favourites!

It was all rather on a whim originally, @firesign23 and me snatched up an idea to have October as Whumptober (inspired by this post). For this challenge, we asked people to write Miss Fisher whump fics, which is fics with a heavy dose of hurt, and then comfort. This is also, of course, a formula that can be played with, and many of our writers have done that and taken a whump prompt to primarily write fluff.

In the end, we were given no less than 25 fics as a result of this challenge! (and counting)

Thank you all who participated – you are awesome! And to anyone who didn’t finish but is still working on it, please keep on writing!

In this post I will give an overview of the fic (here is the full collection), and I’ll do it after the level of angst. I know some of the readers have been hesitant to read whump fic because they were afraid to have their hearts broken. Hopefully this guide can help you out!

So, welcome to the Whumptober angst-o-meter. It’ll start on the fluffiest end, then turn to smut, contemplative mood, hurt with proper comfort, and finally end with hurt where there is very little or no comfort.

Fluff and very little hurt

@scruggzi, “Under Changing Star” for the prompt “Poison”, takes the price as the fluffiest whump! Phryne and Jack are in England, after a party, and I think the tags say it all: “tipsy shenanigans”, “in a field”, and “unanticipated hedgehog”.

Patricia_Holm, “Ask Me No Questions, I’ll Tell You No Lies” for “Drugged” gives us an alternate ending of “Unnatural Habits” where Phryne and Jack are captured and drugged, and they can’t help but tell each other the truth about what they feel for each other.

@teaandbanjo’s “The Torture of the Everyday” for “Torture” is all about the small, annoying tortures in life, allowing us to follow Phryne on a very crappy day.

In Isingonly4myangel, “He Has A Way” for “Broken ribs” (a first MFMM fic, welcome!), Phryne is hurt on a case, and Jack is right behind her.

@912luvjaxlean's “She Who Must Be Obeyed” for “Caretaker” tells us about Jack in a bout of illness, and gives him a very unusual, and rather fun, caretaker, before he finally gets to see Phryne again.

@scruggzi's “The Great Escape” for “Hostile environment” has Phryne down with influenza and being a truly appalling patient. When she decides to make an escape, she is lucky there are people looking out for her.

@parisian-girl1928‘s “Cards in the Air” for “Showdown” has a stakeout where a poker playing Phryne takes risks, and it is above all focused on the after effects – Jack’s worry about what could have happened to Phryne, and Phryne, Mac and Jack engaging in delicious banter about it all.

Smut

Focusing on the smut aspect is @deverewinterton’s “It’s raining men” for “Fever”, where a drenched Jack comes to Wardlow, and Phryne makes him stay and also to see the sense in taking off those wet clothes of his.

In @cruzergirl/propangel’s “Beneath the Surface” for “Stranded”, Phryne and Jack are locked in a cellar, and while they wait for help they decide to indulge in each other.

Contemplative whump

@omgimsarahtoo’s “Love Me Tender” for “Bruises” plays with the heat in creating bruises in the act of love-making, and the tracing of the damage afterwards, in a very intimate way.

@firesign23's “Half a Pound of Tupenny Rice” for “Severe illness” is a continuation of the Bugle universe, where Phryne and Jack have an adopted child they found on a crime scene. Little Ant has his first severe illness, and this fic is a take on the feelings that stirs up for Phryne and memories from childhood, in a beautiful way.

@aurora-australis-tumbles's “Tried and Tested” for the prompt “Betrayed” is a beautiful scene of Phryne and Jack talking, and drinking, after everything that went down in “Unnatural Habits” and George Sanderson’s betrayal. It has such a wistful tone, Jack reluctantly sharing his feelings and both of them giving away snippets of their past. Also, @aurora-australis-tumbles proves herself to have a knack for writing advertisment prose!

@preux-chevalier/boccardo_syllogism’s “where honeysuckle grows” for “Insomnia” (also a first MFMM fic, welcome!) captures a night of contemplation and caring, as Jack has trouble sleeping. Phryne goes to find him and they talk about war, and life, and love, in a beautiful and rather serene mood.

Hurt – and then thorough comfort

@parisian-girl1928's “Coming Home to Stay” for “Stay” is a very fun fic focusing on the poor (and rather sarcastic) cupid who has got as his final test the daunting assignment to make one Phryne Fisher and one Jack Robinson fall for each other, and to actually admit it. That proves to be quite the hard work, and many of the fool-proof strategies don’t seem to work, so it seems the cupid needs to bring out the whump.

@aurora-australis-tumbles's “Friendly Fire” for the prompt “Friendly fire” is a delightful fic about the aftermath after Jack has been hurt by friendly fire, a mistaken shot from Hugh, and in a most embarrassing body part too, poor man. Phryne makes light on the situation in the most helpful, and funny, way, and the reader has to contemplate if the real whump is the wound in the Inspector’s rear or the one in his pride.

@missingmissfisher's “Towards the other soul” for “No, stop!” is set in Murder and Mozzarella, when Phryne and Jack are almost run over by a car. Everything seems normal, but when Phryne later visits Jack there is something wrong.

@adverbally's “Breathless” for “Drowning” has Phryne struggling against an attacker who pushes her down into water, until the police comes to her rescue, and focuses on Phryne’s strength.

In @firesign23’s “Defenseless” for the prompt “Kidnapped”, Phryne wakes up disoriented and doesn’t know what has happened. Slowly, she realises that she’s been kidnapped, and that Jack is in an adjacent room. They can speak through the wall, trying to keep up their spirits, but while they can give each other some comfort, Phryne has no idea how badly hurt Jack is, and he doesn’t seem intent to telling her. The hurt is quite thorough, but so is the comfort.

@whopooh's “A Second Shot” for “I can’t walk” is an alternative version of Unnatural Habits, where Sydney Fletcher manages to shoot Phryne before he himself is shot. After Jack has put pressure on her wound she is whisked away to the hospital, leaving him with the shock and fear. Until the next day, when he can visit her bedside and clear up the details.

@geenee27's “Safe Upon the Shore” for “Hypothermia” gives plenty of room for the hurt, as Jack’s ship goes down before it reaches Southampton. Phryne travels to France to search for him, desperately, not knowing what has happened and aching for the reunion she had been anticipating. On top of the whumptober challenge, this fic is also inspired by the band Great Big Sea’s song “Safe Upon The Shore”.

Hurt – no comfort

@teaandbanjo’s “Light and Heat” for “Seizure” is a minor character story, about Saul who is the murder victim in Raisins and Almond. Here there isn’t really any room comfort, but a snippet of his thoughts and aspirations as he faces death.

@omgimsarahtoo's ”For Good” for the prompt ”Self-sacrifice” is high on the angst-o-meter, even though there is no physical hurt to be seen. Instead it has all to do with Phryne’s and Jack’s relationship, and Phryne setting him free so he can be happy with someone else. Sarah's story was so heart-breaking it even prompted a fix-it story, so there is a comfort part after all, and it can be found in @aurora-australis-tumbles’s lovely “For the Better” .

Finally

@rubycaspar's “When covered, fire acquires still more force” for “Abduction” is not finished yet, so the comfort part hasn’t happened – but the writer has solemnly promised she is a comfort girl. This is a wonderfully written and also severe whump, so tense and with so many feelings as first Jack and then – deliberately, to try to save him – Phryne are abducted. They are treated harshly by the kidnappers, kept in different rooms in a basement, managing to communicate between each other, and then Phryne hears all sorts of things happening to Jack without knowing if he’ll survive. We are eagerly awaiting the concluding chapter!

Formally outside of the challenge, but inspired by it, @viikirks/Miss_Ash decided to make a multi-chapter to cover as many of the prompts as possible, “things that go whump in the night” (a third new writer starting to write MFMM – welcome!). Every chapter is a separate story and uses one of the prompts of whumptober. So far it ranges from “stabbed” to “drowned”, and it has a broad range of hurt-levels, from more light-hearted to serious angst; a couple of the chapters also includes character deaths. Look out for the letter “(A)” in the notes to every chapter – those are a heads-up that that chapter has an ending that is angsty and without the comfort part.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about the angst-o-meter and if you see the angst levels differently, as well as if I have missed a fic I should have included. I’m also happy that no less than three new writers took this challenge, and I look forward to reading more by you!

Happy reading!

#mfmm fanfic #mfmm whumptober #miss fisher's murder mysteries

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