#written mostly for me and perhaps the two other people on here into this ship 😅

[aramblingjay]

We were gods (we were kids) Geralt/Eskel, established relationship, hurt/comfort (4K) CW: Implied/referenced child abuse (Witcher training)

Geralt always comes back last. Eskel knows this, but it doesn’t make waiting for him any easier.

ao3

-

Geralt always comes back last. Eskel knows this, but it doesn’t make waiting for him any easier.

“He’ll come,” Vesemir says quietly, stepping up beside him to look out at the valley. The first dusting of snow has already coated the mountaintops white in the distance—Geralt doesn’t have long. “He always does.”

None of them have missed a winter in over a decade. They used to, back when the keep was bustling with Witchers and the absence of one or two hardly made a difference. No longer. Now, missing a winter means only one thing.

“I know,” Eskel says, because to think anything else is a one-way path to self-destruction. “Another day, maybe two, before the trail snows over. He has time.”

Vesemir sighs. He knows as well as Eskel that the trail could snow over as early as tonight. The window of safety ends when the mountaintops turn white, that’s always been the rule. “Come. It’s time for dinner.”

Eskel squints into the distance for a few seconds more, desperately searching for an approaching shock of white hair amidst the gloom, before turning away and following Vesemir back inside the keep.

-

Dinner is quiet. Geralt doesn’t normally contribute all that much noise when he’s here—even Vesemir speaks more than Geralt, usually—but his absence seems to suck every spark of energy from the room.

Even Lambert barely gets halfway through a crude tale from the Path before falling silent, huffing with a shake of his head and shoveling more food into his mouth to disguise the sudden pause.

“It’s strange without Geralt here,” Lambert says eventually, giving voice to the elephant in the room. Or not in the room, as it were. He’s still chewing so it comes out sounding more like a collection of m’s and f’s smashed together, but Eskel understands him just fine.

“He’ll be here,” Eskel says, because there is no alternative he will accept. “He’ll be here, I know it.”

Witchers don’t do pity, and neither Lambert nor Vesemir give him any now. Lambert just nudges the potatoes in his direction, an autumn-time luxury they rarely indulge in after the winter settles in fully, and Eskel scoops out a bowlful to make the most of it while he can.

Geralt loves potatoes, and he’s always devouring as many spoonfuls as he can his first few weeks in the keep. They fight over them, usually, stealing bites off each other’s plates—and one memorable time, straight from each other’s lips, prompting Lambert to make exaggerated gagging noises and Vesemir to frown reproachfully (but Geralt smiled like the sun itself, and Eskel has never tasted a sweeter potato before nor since).

Today, the potato crumbles like ash in his mouth, and he leaves most of his bowl untouched. Perhaps, if Geralt makes it back tonight, they can finish it together.

It’s a wistful thought, but there is no place for wishes in Kaer Morhen.

He goes to bed early with a murmured good night, and the unfinished potato grows cold on the table.

-

Eskel half-rouses in the middle of the night, and instinctively reaches to the left for Geralt’s warmth. When his fingers brush against nothing but cold air, he wakes faster than a young trainee roused from bed by an icy pitcher of water, heart racing as much as it can for a Witcher.

His body knows the feel of this bed, these furs, that gentle heat coming from the fireplace. This is Kaer Morhen, which means Geralt should be—

Then he remembers. Witchers don’t cry, not really, but there’s a foreign pressure behind his eyelids and a tightness in his throat that’s familiar from years ago, when he stood over Gweld’s mangled body and realized there were only four Wolves left in the world.

Maybe only three, his traitorous mind supplies before he cuts off that particular vein of thought.

Geralt’s armor from last winter is still in the room, draped over the chair by the fireplace. Eskel remembers how they left in a rush, spring thawing the frost and opening the mountain trail a few days earlier than expected. I’ll put it away next year, Geralt said with a little quirk of his lips, as sure as a sturdy oak in a breeze that he would return.

Eskel is sure, too. He is. But it’s harder to believe in the dead of night, surrounded by the empty chill of being the only occupant in a bed made for two.

He glances over at the window. A sliver of moonlight illuminates the falling snow outside, and the flakes are beautiful, small and soft and gentle the way the first real snow of the season always is.

Each one is like a blade straight to his heart.

Eskel doesn’t cry, but only because he can’t remember how.

-

Something changes in the air the next morning, and he barely nods a greeting to Lambert in the main hall before dashing out the front gates, eyes scanning the horizon back and forth.

A thick layer of snow covers the ground like a fluffy white blanket, gleaming enough to be almost painfully bright under the sunlight. Picking Geralt out should be easy enough, the man has never worn a color other than black for nearly as long as Eskel has known him. Since the Trials, his mind offers helpfully, as if he needs those images flashing before his eyes again.

But there is no black blob moving amidst the white. Only a brown one, larger than a man, and faster than one too—even a man as enhanced as Geralt.

Roach.

Eskel starts toward her in a dead run, barely noticing the way his feet sink several inches into the snow with each step. “Lambert!” he calls, not bothering to shout, knowing Lambert will hear him anyway. “Lambert, it’s Roach!”

Roach, and not Geralt. The possibilities tumble through his head, each one worse than the last. Geralt, dead on the Path, somewhere Eskel can’t reach until after the spring thaw. Geralt, tossed off the side of the mountain on his way up the Killer, every bone in his body broken in a different direction. Geralt, paler than ever, lying in a pool of his own blood in some stinking tavern while the humans laugh around his corpse.

He’s moving so fast he nearly collides into Roach when he reaches her, just barely managing to grab her reins to steady himself. She still has her reins, at least. He can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

“Hey, girl.” Roach sniffs at him, whinnying and bucking his hand when he tries to stroke her head. “I know. I know I’m not Geralt.” It helps, knowing she’ll sense his stress if he reveals any, helps keep his voice calm and his heart steady when all be wants to do is rage and break something. “Where is he, hmm?”

Her ears flick at the hmm, before she whinnies again, clearly used to it coming from a very different voice. Geralt’s deep baritone is Eskel’s favorite sound in the world, and clearly Roach has a fondness for it as well.

“Shh, I know,” he says again, hearing Lambert’s frantic footfalls approaching behind them. “Where is he, Roach? Where is he?”

“Eskel, what the fuck,” Lambert hisses, clearly having arrived at the same conclusion he has. “Geralt would never be separated from her, not by choice.”

“Maybe he sent her ahead,” Eskel tries, only half believing it himself. Geralt wouldn’t abandon his horse without reason, as surely as he wouldn’t abandon Kaer Morhen herself.

“If you really believe that, you’ve got more shit for brains than I thought,” Lambert all but growls. “We’re going looking for him, right?”

Eskel stays silent. He doesn’t want to damn them yet.

Instead, he closes his eyes and tries to concentrate on his surroundings, tuning out the sound of Lambert coaxing Roach toward the stables, the howl of the wind, the feel of the snow beneath his feet, every bit of useless sensory information he doesn’t need. He feels like a baby Witcher again, newly mutated and barely able to control his new abilities, desperately seeking an anchor point against the relentless stimulation.

His anchor point was always Geralt. Nothing ever felt more natural.

He uses that now, searches for even the faintest tingle to suggest Geralt is somewhere in the vicinity.

Eskel opens his eyes and lets out a long sigh. Nothing.

Well.

“Search around the keep, and tell Vesemir what’s going on,” Eskel says, coming to a decision. Not that it was any kind of choice at all. He’d rather get caught in the next snowstorm and slowly lose each of his limbs to frostbite than sit warm in the castle knowing Geralt might be out there somewhere. “He can’t be far.”

Lambert scoffs. “I’m not some child you have to protect. If you’re heading down the Killer, I’m coming with you.”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s a suicide mission.”

“He’d do the same for me. What kind of shitty brother would I be if I didn’t—”

“Lamb, listen to me. Vesemir can’t lose all three of us on the same day, okay?” Eskel lets the raw desperation bleed through his voice, and Lambert relents, nodding. His scowl doesn’t waver, however. If anything, it sharpens.

“You bring him back,” he says, in a tone that they both know to mean dead or alive, by any means necessary.

Eskel nods. “If I’m not back by nightfall, don’t come looking for me.”

Then he runs toward the Killer, ignoring Lambert screaming, “What kind of last words are those, you stupid fuck!” behind him.

-

It’s late evening, about half a day’s walk down the Killer, when he sees something. A drop of blood on a leaf, dark and inky against the white-speckled green. He’s far enough down that the snow hasn’t fallen quite as heavily here, and it makes spotting a blood trail harder.

But he isn’t a Witcher for nothing, and he uses every sense he has, every bit of tracking he had beaten into him in training, to follow the blood speckles through the undergrowth. This part of the Killer has a little clearing off to the side, he remembers, and it’s usually a good place to rest before undertaking the last leg of the journey. Maybe…

He hardly dares to let himself hope. He hopes all the same.

The blood trail leads him straight to that very clearing, and there, passed out against a gnarled stump, is Geralt.

He nearly shouts for him, but the sound dies in his throat when he sees the pool of blood surrounding his lover, turning the dirt beneath him midnight black.

To use one of Geralt’s words—fuck.

Time passes in strange leaps for the next several hours, stretching and shrinking from one minute to the next. He remembers falling to his knees beside Geralt, patting him down to find the source of the bleeding. He remembers the stench of Geralt’s blood, how it roils his stomach in a way that the copper-tang smell hasn’t for the better part of several decades. He remembers seeing the gaping wound in Geralt’s side, visible through a similar-size tear in his armor, remembers the dawning horror of his realization that only a human blade could have made a cut with such clean, deadly precision.

He remembers very little after that. Just the weight of Geralt on his shoulders. An endless babbling litany of words streaming from his mouth, begging and pleading and praying to gods he can barely even name. And pain, sharp and aching in every muscle and bone, with each step he takes.

The thought of stopping never occurs to him. The sun slips down over the horizon, its last few rays painting the sky brilliant purple, and he pauses just for a second to marvel at the beauty of it before soldiering on.

Step. Step. Step. Another step. Another step. Step. Step. Another step.

This is just another Trial.

It’s just another Trial.

Another step.

It’s just another Trial.

Another step.

One more step. Step. Step. Step.

One more Trial. Then he can finally be a Witcher—

He collapses at the foot of a gate. Is Vesemir here? Vesemir might let him sneak down to the hot springs for a quick soak. He passed this one, he thinks. He can’t wait to tell Geralt.

-

Eskel wakes to Lambert’s face staring down at him. It’s a fine face, one of three he wouldn’t punch on sight, but two inches from his nose is a little too close for comfort.

“Lambert, what the hell!”

Lambert grins, leering even closer for a moment before finally stepping back. “Eskel! Took you long enough, you bastard.”

He sits up and tries to put together a timeline from the fuzzy bits and pieces floating in his head, but everything feels disconnected. One piece towers above the rest. “Where’s Geralt?” he asks, remembering the clearing, the blood. There’s very little after that, but the faint heartbeat thudding in his ears tells him everything he needs to know. It’s Geralt’s—he knows it the way he knows the warmth of the sun, and no injury in the world will keep him away.

Lambert eyes him warily. “You remember who you are? Where you are?”

What kind of question is that? “Yes. Where is he—infirmary?” He tries to brace his weight on his arms in preparation for getting out of the bed, but a firm hand to his chest stops him, pushes him back down. Eskel feels like a chastened puppy—but also, normally he’d have more than enough strength to shake Lambert off.

“And when you are?”

“The hell do you mean? How long was I out?” It occurs to him that days or even weeks could have passed since he found Geralt in the clearing.

“Just a few hours. But you were all sorts of shit about the Trials muttering when we found you at the gates. Thought we had another amnesia situation on our hands.”

The mention of Geralt’s amnesia still sends tendrils of panic down his spine. “I’m fine, Lambert, but you won’t be if you don’t let me up right now.”

Lambert, the master of empty threats himself, rolls his eyes but complies, taking his hand away and moving several steps back for good measure. Eskel wobbles for a moment before the strength comes back to his legs and he finds his footing.

“Good?” Lambert asks, stepping away. There’s a shadow in his eyes that Eskel doesn’t like.

“I’m fine. Come on.”

Lambert leads him across the keep, and Eskel realizes after the first few turns through winding hallways and staircases that they are indeed heading toward the closest thing Kaer Morhen has to an infirmary. Every step pulls at something in his feet that tells him he’s not done healing yet, but Geralt’s heartbeat gets louder the closer they come, and that’s all it takes to keep him moving.

“Vesemir’s with him,” Lambert says once they’re outside the room. When Eskel hesitates at the entrance, Lambert laughs, sharp but amused. “Don’t be an idiot. Pretty boy woke up just before you did, and the first word out of his mouth was your name. Barely even cared I was there.” Lambert sounds as put-upon and fond as he’s capable of, which is to say not at all, but Eskel understands.

“Thanks, Lamb,” he says quietly.

Lambert just pushes him in the back toward the door. “Go.”

He goes, opening the door with his breath held fast in his chest.

Geralt is sitting up on the cot surrounded by a pile of Kaer Morhen’s thickest furs, hair askew around his face, paler than the moon in the dead of night, torso wrapped with bandages that must have once been white and now are pink. But his heartbeat is strong in Eskel’s ears and his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm and his eyes are that familiar brilliant yellow, and fuck, it’s so good to see him. So good to see him alive.

“You shouldn’t be walking around yet,” Vesemir tuts from a corner, but Eskel has eyes for one Witcher alone.

“Wolf,” he says, the word torn from his throat, and surges forward to the cot.

“Good to see you, Esk,” Geralt rasps, like smooth water over cobblestones, and oh, how Eskel has missed the sound of that growly, gravelly voice.

Geralt leans forward just a little as Eskel approaches, as much as his bandages will probably allow, and Eskel meets him the rest of the way, dropping to his knees beside the bed and resting his forehead against Geralt’s. The bitter bark smell of sickness and healing hangs around Geralt like a cloud, but underneath that is still the same musk that Eskel has known his whole life, and it settles him like nothing else can.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Vesemir says. They don’t pull away from each other, but Eskel tracks Vesemir’s movements out of the room by the scrape of his chair as he stands and the rattle of the door as he closes it behind them.

“Shouldn’t have come down the Killer for me like that,” Geralt says once they’re alone.

Eskel does pull away at that, to give Geralt his most scathing and unimpressed look. There are a million things he could say, a million lectures Geralt needs to hear about taking care of himself and self-sacrifice and being a right idiot, but they have a whole winter ahead of them to worry about that, so he keeps it simple. “Shouldn’t have gotten yourself stabbed then.”

A shadow passes over Geralt’s face. Eskel recognizes the look—and hates it even more on Geralt than he did on Lambert.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Geralt shakes his head, and Eskel takes it to mean we’ll talk about it later let’s just have this moment together, because he’ll pry it out of Geralt eventually. There are no secrets between them.

Right now, however, there are more pressing things to deal with.

“Will it hurt you if I—” He doesn’t even get through the sentence before Geralt is lifting the corner of his furs in invitation.

There’s barely enough space on the cot for one full-grown Witcher (he knows why, knows who these cots were used for all those years ago, though the reminder hurts all the same), but that’s never stopped them before. He settles beside Geralt with his head on Geralt’s shoulder and sucks a kiss into the side of his neck.

Geralt’s whole body softens in response, just as he knew it would, and Eskel takes the opportunity to press himself even closer, melds them together like two halves of the same whole. They were never meant to be separated.

(Perhaps one of these years, one of these decades, he will find the words to ask if Geralt feels the same)

A red-purple spot blooms over Geralt’s skin, and the sight of it stirs the coil of heat in his stomach. Witcher healing means it won’t last long, will likely have faded before the sun comes up again, but it isn’t the mark that matters, only the claim. Mine.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about what happened,” Eskel says, because the image of Geralt bleeding against that tree will never leave his mind for as long as he lives. “We are going to talk about it.”

“Hmm.”

The little sound nestles deep in his chest, and Eskel can’t help that his irritated huff comes out mostly fond. “Yeah, alright. In the morning.”

“Hmm.” Geralt snakes an arm along his back until his hand reaches Eskel’s hip. Eskel feels those familiar fingers curve around his hipbone, jutting out from the skin like it always does after a lean year on the Path. He curls in toward Geralt, draping his own arm across the most uninjured expanse of Geralt’s torso he can find, and sinks into him, trusting Geralt to hold his weight like he can trust no one else.

All the breath in his lungs rushes out at once, and he closes his eyes. They’re home.

-

Morning dawns gray and dreary, snow falling in thick sheets outside. Eskel wakes in the arms of his beloved, their limbs tangled together like cubs in a wolf pile, and feels nothing but joy.

Let the snow fall. It matters not, now, when all his family is safe in the keep.

“Awake?” Eskel asks, though he can tell by the rate of Geralt’s breathing that he is.

Geralt makes a quiet noise of assent, the very beginnings of a purr. Sleeping together does wonders for them both.

“You should rest more. You’ll heal faster.”

“I’m healing just fine. Besides, you’re beautiful in the morning.”

I wanted to watch you wake up, is what he knows Geralt means, and Eskel huffs. “I’m still filthy from carrying your hide up the trail.” He’s well aware that the beauty Geralt speaks of runs far deeper than skin, but even now, even with Geralt, sometimes it’s easier to lighten the mood than to bask in being loved so wholly by another.

“We can always—”

“Not yet,” Eskel interrupts, knowing exactly where that’s headed. There were winters he was certain Geralt returned to Kaer Morhen solely to use the hot springs. “Not yet, you know that.” The sit still and rest gene is lacking in all of them, but Geralt more than anyone.

“I’ve trained with worse injuries than this,” Geralt whines, petulant. Eskel can recall any of a dozen times he saw Geralt forced to train until he collapsed when they were children, ashen and limping from half-healed wounds but nevertheless expected to stand his ground, and knows it’s true. “A quick soak is nothing compared to that.”

“You have never had a quick soak a day in your life. Besides, we don’t do that anymore.” There’s a dark bitterness in his voice that Eskel doesn’t bother to hide. With only four Wolves left, brutality has finally given way to caution—but Geralt knows full well his thoughts on the death and loss that came first.

“Some people say baths are healing, Esk,” Geralt murmurs, but it’s soft, a complaint more because this is the only place he can voice one (warm in the belly of Kaer Morhen, tight in Eskel’s arms) than because he actually minds.

Eskel wants to say something funny, like stop taking medical advice from your bard, but instead what comes out is a half-broken sound low in his throat.

Geralt’s arm tightens around him.

“Say it again?” Eskel asks, begs. There is no shame between them, not anymore, and it’s been a year since he heard the diminutive, a year since he’s been called anything other than Witcher at all.

The steady rise and fall of Geralt’s chest never stutters, but Eskel can sense the shift in his mood all the same. He waits for Geralt’s words, however, knows it takes longer to find them when he’s still armored in the nonverbal shell he uses for the Path. The wait is usually worth it—Geralt is unbelievably eloquent when he chooses to be.

Eskel counts four, five, six Witcher-slow beats of his heart, before Geralt speaks.

“I am yours.” The simplicity of the statement, delivered not like a love declaration but like some fundamental fact that future generations of Witchers might find scrawled in a journal of universal truths, takes his breath away. “And you are mine.”

“Wolf—”

“Shh, my turn,” Geralt huffs, nosing along the shell of his ear, and Eskel lets out a half-strangled groan when Geralt nibbles a little on the earlobe. It’s been entirely too long.

“Esk,” Geralt says right into his ear, so soft it’s more air than sound.

“Esk,” Geralt says by his cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of his eye.

“Esk,” Geralt says over his collarbone, sucking a bruise into the skin like Eskel did for him.

“Esk,” Geralt says to the tip of his nose, the corner of his jaw, the hollow at the base of his throat.

“Esk,” Geralt breathes over the bow of his lip, before finally, finally, leaning in for a kiss.

For the second time in as many days, Eskel finds a heavy pressure behind his eyelids. But this one feels like honey and starlight, sweet and warm and bright, and he knows for certain he would be crying from pure joy if he could.

He is more than aware he can’t, another in a long list of things the mages took from them, so he pours everything he has into the kiss instead, hopes Geralt can feel the tears on his teeth, on his tongue, even if they will never drip down his cheeks.

“My wolf,” he whispers, pulling away just enough to form the words, and kisses Geralt’s smile right off his lips.

Nowhere else in the world are they allowed to be soft like this, and he tries to make the most of it every winter. Once, they were nothing more than little boys in love, too young to even understand the meaning of the word but no less certain of each other for it. Sometimes, on long nights on the Path when he goes to bed hungry and cold, if he goes to bed at all, that innocent child feels far away enough to have been from another lifetime altogether.

In this moment, as he tucks a strand of Geralt’s hair behind his ear just to see him smile again, that little boy in love feels close enough to touch.

#the witcher #geskel #geralt x eskel #*writing #*fic #written mostly for me and perhaps the two other people on here into this ship 😅

[wetcatspellcaster]

Do you have any writing tips for newbie fic writers? Your descriptions are gorgeous. Thank you for pieces BTW, it's my favorite 'piece' of writing ❤️

hi anon, thank you for the kind words!💞💞 I'm flattered that I'm someone that you'd think to ask this question, so I'll do my best to answer! I've put my response beneath a keep reading cut to prevent it being a long post :)

I wasn't sure how to interpret this question, so I'll focus on 'technical' (?) tips mostly. Hope any of them help, in some small way!

my main tip to new fic writers is: write, first and foremost, for yourself, and to feed yourself. I've seen this perspective get put through the disk-horse ringer of late, so take it or leave it, or take it with as much of a pinch of salt as you need. But truly, from the bottom of my heart and from my position of sudden newfound popularity, this is the most important lesson I was ever given and so I have to say it. Popularity is not guaranteed. Even a popular fic will have haters and people who think it objectively sucks, and the readers who like you will never be fully pleased with what you've delivered. This could all be very depressing and cause an author to lose motivation.... if you make it the criteria for success in the first place. If you make the criteria for success your own happiness (or perhaps the happiness of you and a few close pals), providing yourself with what you, specifically, want to see, you will probably want to keep writing regardless of all other factors. Produce fics that you want to reread when you need comfort, when you are sick, and when you want to see your blorbos exactly the way you want them. This will make any fic worthwhile to you, regardless of stats, and prevent you from writing things that will suffer if your heart isn't in it! (this doesn't preclude gift fics/prompts! sometimes your heart can be 100% in providing food for others. find your key motivators, and feed that - a healthy amount - if you're trying to get into writing as a hobby!)

Now, onto my writing tips! I don't consider myself an expert and these are more lessons that have helped me, specifically, to improve my writing. But maybe something in here will be of use!

Bc you say you like descriptions... I tend to go into detail only when it's an essential thing that needs to be described. Leave wider details for readers to fill in with their own beautiful mind-palaces, and this gives you permission to go ham on what matters. What is it that matters? maybe it's a piece of the environment (say, a soul jar) or maybe it's just how hot one part of your ship is, in their hot clothes or out of them. If you focus on the important stuff but leave the rest to background, this not only creates a good balance of action to description, but it also shows the reader what they should prioritise in the scene.

I also google '[WORD] synonyms' a lot, for descriptions specifically. Which seems like it might be condescending advice, but it both helps you find different words if you're worried you're repeating yourself, and sometimes confirms that yes. You are using the best word actually, as you were.

Get a good balance of complex/simplistic words, as well as a good balance of complex/simplistic sentences. Sometimes you need a flowery description, sometimes you just need to state explicitly what is happening or the way things are. Tone will shift depending on your balance of these two things, so test the waters and see what works for you!

If you feel like you've written too much dialogue, the answer is probably no, you haven't written too much dialogue - for fic specifically. Most people are reading fic bc they want their faves to interact more. You are giving them more interaction and they will probably love it.

If you find phrases you like in the books/fic you read, it isn't plagiarism to use them so long as you recontextualise them. I'm certain I've used other people's words multiple times, particularly for my descriptions/imagery, and this is totally ok so long as the context is original. If you're worried, or its a whole sentence/interaction you like, examine the sentence/interaction and work out why you like it so much. Is it the sentence structure? Is the character dynamic? Is it the way the kiss plays out? Take the things you find sexiest in other people's writing and find ways to incorporate it into your own work!

I proofread by reading aloud. Yes, I sound mental and unhinged. My cats are worried about me. But this not only helps you catch mistakes, it helps to test the flow of a sentence! If you're ever worried a sentence is too long/a line of dialogue doesn't sound in character, read it aloud! This will help you work out if it's flowing or not, and if it isn't then you'll get some clues as to why!

Don't be afraid to take risks, if you want to take risks! This can apply to anything: being brave enough to put in a joke you're not sure people will find funny, describing something in a way you're worried people will find weird, tackling something from a perspective or POV that you find challenging. This may be a more intermediate tip, but you can start with small risks, and experimenting helps you find your writing voice! Taking risks makes your writing unique :) and I can't explain how much better my writing has gotten since I gave myself specific challenges. You will not get it perfectly write 100% of the time (there are some parts of Pieces that are weak compared to other parts) but it will always help you improve.

#asks #anons #my writing #writing tips #I guess??? i'm really not an expert i truly just read a lot of books and then i vomit words onto a page

[collectionoftulips]

Thoughts following the most recent episode of The Way Home

There's probably maybe like one other person on here or maybe a few who watch The Way Home and if so, hi!!, and secondly, I hope my regulars will excuse me for talking about another show for a minute. (For those who haven't seen it - I really recommend giving it a watch!) Basically - I've had some thoughts swirling around my head since the latest episode (this is mainly about some of my changing thoughts on who I ship on the show):

(Spoilers for 2x08 of The Way Home and it's mostly Kat-centric thoughts)

In some ways, my thoughts can be summarised by two points and I will make the case for them below: I feel like I have outgrown Elliot/Kat the way they are currently being written and I'm pretty heavily going on the Kat/Thomas ship.

If someone had told me at the end of season one, that I would be finding myself torn between Elliot/Kat and a new ship, I would have said that they are bananas. But after thinking about it some, at least the way the ship is being currently written, I'm not the fan I once was - and I don't think it's entirely because I'm 'intended' to have those feelings at this point of the show.

I really appreciate how this season has really given Elliot more space to grow as an independent character outside of his romantic relationship with Kat, but I think by giving him that space, the show inadvertently, or perhaps too successfully, made a case for why they are not right for each other at this very moment in time. The fundamental issue, to me, is that Elliot has spent so much of his childhood idealising Kat and he has in some ways put her on a pedestal. He knows her, but the way he knows her is so intimately wrapped up in his feelings towards her and that coupled with the weight of their past together, makes it an increasingly less attractive ship because of a few reasons:

a) he knows her very well but it's going to be very difficult disentangle the reality from the fantasy he has grown up with in his head (and being friends with someone is very different from being in a romantic relationship with them) b) she's been put on this pedestal that the only way she can change in his eyes is by disappointing him; she's already got this aura of 'endgame' status in his head c) it's very difficult to see where they get room to grow in a way that allows them both the character growth they both need/deserve, especially given the amount of trauma that especially Kat is going through (Elliot has also been through stuff, but that's mainly in the past that we partly get to see or it's off-screen in the past).

Additionally, seeing Kat going back to the 1812 has really highlighted some aspects of her characterisation that were previously not as prominent; she's spent most of her life blaming herself for Jacob's disappearance and now that she is on the precipice of finding him, she's displaying really a lack of self-preservation and desperation (to the point where she even forgets Alice and Thomas has to literally remind her that she has people depending on her and obviously there's the subtext that he might have feelings for her that I'm now very here for). These things make total sense for Kat as a character, but I don't think any of the people back in her time fully realise the extent of that self-destructive tendency (we also saw a less Jacob-related instance of this in the most recent episode with Kat's idea to go to London and leave Brady, but Elliot was too busy to be all 'this is my shot!' to really notice).

My growing hypothesis since 2x07 is that a lot of Kat's interactions with Thomas is fundamentally fuelled by Thomas' acknowledgement and frustration with Kat's lack of self-preservation (a skill he himself had to learn growing up in the time he is from), a tendency which is also amplified by the fact that Kat is from a different time and doesn't really have the same kind of sense about the scale of danger around certain tasks. I'm might be reading into it, but I was thinking about what was going on during their superdramatic beach scene, when he picks her up and it looks for a moment like he is about to wade out to sea with her. On the surface, of course, Kat's terrified that Jacob might die and also a fear and frustration that she does not know her brother, that even if he survives it might not matter because he might not remember her, that he has grown so much from the little boy that she knew that the fact that she found him might matter very little.

But I was wondering a little about Thomas' reaction regarding that whole scene. He's of course frustrated that she doesn't seem to have much understanding of the extent to which the world that they inhabit is not one that is forgiving or allows one to stay on any kind of moral high ground, but I also thought that probably from his perspective, he's probably getting quite frustrated with Kat. This is a woman who seems to have absolutely no self-preservation, and while he has recently learned that she is a time traveller, that lack of self-preservation runs much deeper than just being ignorant of the time period. She is a woman he clearly deeply respects and admires and has growing feelings for but that regard is seemingly not one she has of herself, and it has to be pretty frustrating for him to see someone whose strength he admires seemingly not respect herself or have such little regard for her own wellbeing. Which is why I think he reacted the way he did, trying to snap her out of the emotional spiral she was going down when she was in a panic trying to grasp at anything to soothe the sense of crisis that was exploding inside her.

In these ways, I sort of feel like the show has propped Thomas up to be the opposite of Elliot; this is not a man who has been in love with Kat Landry a really long time, but one that only recently realised it, and where Elliot sees this idealised 'prize' version of Kat (informed by his childhood), Thomas sees all of Kat's 'flaws' and all of the 'cracks' that she conceals from people in her regular life, and loves appreciates her for those qualities.

While obviously the extent to which they have any future depends on what the writers have decided to do for season two (and for season three), and it is looking pretty bleak, I like the path forward for Kat/Thomas more, as there is more ground to cover there and I think it would be a very different dynamic that I would find refreshing. Hence me going a bit cold on Elliot and Kat (despite that kiss in the most recent episode which felt like the most shoehorned thing ever that had extremely poor build up but that's a rant for a different post) and am now leaning towards the potentially doomed ship of Thomas/Kat.

I don't know if this made any sense, and I'm not sure if anyone is interested in my thoughts on this but it's either ranting about it here or at some point writing fic, so I decided for the former for the time being.

#the way home #the way home hallmark

[dirty-bosmer]

~Writerly Thumbprint Challenge~

Rules: look back on your work, both past and present, finished and unfinished. what are five (or more!) narrative elements, themes, topics or tropes that continuously pop up in your work?

Thanks to @thana-topsy for the tag! I was admittedly a bit intimidated by this one, but it was so illuminating. It's been a long time since I've taken a step back to evaluate my stories through a critical lens, and sometimes I forget what I've written 😅 I know a lot of people have already been tagged, so I'm tagging: @wispstalk @atypicalacademic @thequeenofthewinter @chennnington @rainpebble3 @justafoxhound @dumpsterhipster @skyrim-forever @sylvienerevarine @gilgamish @burningsilence

I'm a baby writer. Only two fics, both TES. Here is what I came up with:

1. An Inner Darkness, A Downward Spiral — Most of my OCs have a secret (sometimes not-so-secret) viscousness that's always simmering under the surface, threatening to ooze free. They're not necessarily mean, but they're not good people. They may not be evil, but they all do very bad things. Why? Because 1) thieving and necromancing and murder for hire are kinda fun in-game, and if our Hero is doing all of that while saving the world, it needs to be explained with something other than whimsy lol, and 2) I like the challenge of writing morally grey characters who are flawed and fucked up and unforgivable while simultaneously asking readers to root for them. I've found it quite difficult to make them likable and deserving of sympathy while not overlooking their wrongdoings or writing them inconsistently, but it makes for such interesting conflict.

2. The Pursuit of Knowledge — My protagonists and their close friends are mage-nerds because I am a nerd, and perhaps this is a case of it's easier to write what's close to home?? I love University settings and the looseness of the elder scrolls magic system. There is so much great lore to work with but in many cases it's not so rigid that you can't also twist it and grow it and shape it to your own desire. Knowledge is power as the Telvanni say. Most of my protagonists are not physically strong and rely on cunning and/or magic for defense. In that way, knowledge is the primary avenue by which they assert control over the world around them, which facilitates a lot of conversations surrounding the ethics of magical use cause well... given the way my OCs use it, it deserves to be questioned.

3. Identity — How does a character perceive themselves? How does this compare to what is perceived by those around them? I love exploring the discrepancies between these two and often write arcs that involve a character breaking through the facades they've constructed to conform to what is expected of them and/or shield themselves from the discomfort they feel in their own skin.

4. Loneliness, A Desperate Need for Love — I write characters who have been placed or place themselves on the fringes of society, yet long for acceptance and a place to belong. This leads to a lot of unhealthy and messy relationships, both familial, platonic, and romantic. Often times they hurt people they care about. They let others hurt them too, but it's okay as long as they're not alone, right? It's angst all the way to the top baby.

5. Romance is not the End Goal — Yeah, my work features ships. I'd say it's actually a huge part of the stories, but mostly because the relationships my characters are involved in "fail." People break up or they die tragically. They become incompatible and move on (sometimes lol). Maybe they endure, but romantic love is not the only kind nor the highest valued, and most importantly, I want to write characters whose self-worth is not tied up in whether they're loved by someone else.

Bonus is Awkard Bisexual Losers because all my OCs are cringe-fail and have no game.

This was such an informative exercise! I encourage everyone to take a stab at it. Please tag me if you do. I'm so excited to see what you come up with :))

#tag games #seyda writes #sonny writes

[beevean]

1, 3 & 4

1) list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

It may be a phenomenon limited to the Tumblr side, but I find heartwarming how CV fans will pick their Special Guy/Girl and build an entire shrine around them, analyzing them to death until even others start to appreciate them more :) there are many people here that I recognize as, for example, the Joachim fan, the Simon fan, the John & Eric fan, the Shanoa fan, the Trevor fan... I never get bored of what they offer <3

Aside from that, I find it a more welcoming environment than the Sonic fandom, perhaps because the game fandom is so small hahahaha :') and, well, I found great friends here <3

3) a character that fandom has helped you appreciate

Sonic: Silver and Elise! Yes '06 is not the most charitable of first introductions, but they're neat. Silver works as a naive yet headstrong young hedgehog, idealistic and brutal, determined to the point of stubborness. Elise's issue is mostly in how the story treats her: as a character, she's intriguing to explore due to her trauma and repressed nature, and her sweet relationship with Sonic, the embodiment of freedom.

CV: Richter and Simon! I didn't get the hype around Richter until I understood better how his role in SoTN is tied to the Belmont's bigger theme of the cycle of revenge, and how Richter represents the fissure in such a big legacy - something foreshadowed in RoB, even. And Simon was always to me the most archetypal Belmont, a flat badass, but not only I realized that his badass feats are actually really cool, especially Simon's Quest, I can now see the appeal in such a noble guy, both inspired and an inspiration, kind of a gentle giant :)

4) say something nice about a ship you don't ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual's OTP, etc)

Shadamy can be cute if written well, even not going through the obvious path "Amy reminds Shadow of Maria/Amy can fix him". In his own game, Shadow can interrupt his corruption arc for the sake of helping Amy finding Cream and Chao, and even sounds a little flustered in the recap :P and Amy would probably like Shadow's good heart and courage.

I don't ship any ship with Alucard lol, but some are very cute. Trevorcard has potential, the shunned down to earth man and the disowned dhampir prince, Alucard full of turmoil for his family situation and Trevor looking past his identity as Dracula's son and seeing a wounded young man in need of a friend :) and Hectorcard not only has an immaculate aesthetic, but it would be fun to imagine how the two could grow closer after Dracula goes mad.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

20 asks for fic writers

thank u @plecotusauritus, @kaaaaaaarf, @pinkthekla & @kaleidoscopexsighs for tagging me🥹<3 ily all

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

four but we only talk about three of those😌🤘🏼

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

about 13.8k words (i have no idea where to look this up i typed it into my phone calculator lmao)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

on my ao3 marauders, in the Docs marauders, haikyuu, atla and on Wattp*d🤬 young royals & shera lol (i was like 15 years old ok)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

🤓 my number 1 though is Always Pushing her Luck with a stellar one hundret and ten because yall are some sluts for a good lesbian smut fic

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

yes!! i love interacting with people on art no matter if it’s theirs or mine<3

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmm i think Teeth actually? not really angsty but maybe it kind of makes you go 😬😳 or WAIT maybe my very first jeg microfic thing, the Stag one yknow.. where James is dead😁

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

again, from my ao3 one’s probably Ribs but microfics probably just all the fluffy ones, i’m looking at the cookie baking one here esp, also Walk and Carry

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nope! but i was lowkey concerned for the new non-con fic jdkskd But so far so good hahah

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

why yes i do. mm mostly the unhinged kind in some way hdksks but ig the lesbian wolfstar one is very tender too<3

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

not crossovers per se but we love a good AU of another fandom universe, my marauders Maze Runner Au is very dear to me, we’ll see if she ever sees the light of the day

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge no

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nopesie

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

no but! i will have to kick @pinkthekla cass and me in the ass to make it happen someday because the world deserves to see one james potter horny and humbled

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

this changes all the time honestly and they’re all very very close to each other but i’m gonna have to say iwaoi on top because their chemistry is just unmatched and something i hold so close to my heart, they just mean a lot of comfort to me! so thats prob why

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

hm, i mean i’m only 20 i have all the time in the world. but perhaps that one barty in a maids dress smut one shot? not sure i’ll come back to that one again but who knows!

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think i can do a dialogue quite good but it’s hard for me to get into a zone or scenario where it comes to that naturally, but whenever it does happen? i’m super happy and proud of the result (that’s why i like my hitmen jegulus microfic so much)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

probably that i’m not really good at creating a storyline/plot djskks that’s something that does Not come easily to me and probably one of the only reasons i havent really finished any of my big fics or even their first chapters. If i have a plan/ a prompt or something in general i can orientate myself off of it flows super easily (all the microfics and Ant Pile) but coming up with something of my own is very hard and i often feel kinda bad about it too :,))

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

would love to, i have some smol things planned for mira mi amor that i will probably go and bother @appreciatedmoron bea about as well as my two irl bsfs since they’re quite good at spanish but besides that i’d only really trust myself with german since thats my first language

19. First fandom you wrote for?

actually shera i think

20. Favorite fic you've written?

i really love Ant Pile atm but from my published one’s i couldnt really choose actually djsksk i really like the metaphors and visuals i came up with in Ribs though <3

np tagging: @rottin6, @maliceofminds, @strezzlecki aand idk anyone that sees this and hasn’t been tagged yet!! (i see yall liking these i Will bully u in the dms)

#sorry for the cringe emojis at the beginning i felt the need to express myself properly jdjsk #lune writes

[chiropteracupola]

tagged in '20 questions for fic writers' by the esteemed @verecunda — thank you very much!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

62.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

102,035.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

at the moment, I think Sharpe, Flight of the Heron, and Kidnapped are getting most of my attention? altho' there are of course quite a few others.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

you'd be my best friend, you'd be my lady (Hornblower)

sleep in it slowly (if you can) (Hornblower)

illuminating all, in time (Hornblower TV)

here in your arms is cured (Kidnapped)

as in a mirror dimly (The Mummy 1999)

...huh. that is not what I thought the top five were going to be. but then again, I think a lot of the work that I myself like better is both newer and more niche, so I guess that does make sense.

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

I typically respond to comments on fics I posted after April 2022, which is when I started replying to comments. not sure why that's my routine but either way it's what it is.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hm, a lot of breaking left to do, perhaps, being as it's just solidly Horatio Hornblower Is Sorrowful right from one end to the other. I'd lean toward this one rather than any of what I've written on the theme of being lost in undeath, even though there are quite a few more of those (and better written ones to boot!), since I tend to end those with something calm and a little restful even in decay.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think that's probably got to go to Shaking Off Our Shadows, which is basically two thousand words to the effect of 'what if these two fellows from a very grim book full of disease and death and ruin and general misery had a really nice beach epilogue wherein Everything Was Fine.'

8. Do you get hate on fics?

eh, I've gotten a few weird comments on one, mostly people voicing their hatred for one of the characters it's about. I personally think it's all very silly to come to the doorstep of a fellow who likes to write about romantic dissection and say that a kiss exchanged with mutual interest but without previous discussion is 'fucked'. methinks the problem lies not with me.

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

...on occasion. not a great deal of it has actually made it into finished fic at present, mostly because I'm not very confident with specificity in those matters, and so it's more likely to be heavily metaphoricized (see above about the romantic dissection...)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

most of them are things that I'll draw about or merely ponder rather than writing, but a particularly silly one that I've actually gotten some words in on is Hornblower and Animorphs — look, if the Animorphs team is canonically at Trafalgar, I don't think I have a choice but to crack open a space to play with in the Age of Sail!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

as far as I know, no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

a few of my RLS-based ones have been translated into Russian!

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

sort of! when it comes to actually both writing in the same document, no, but the larger expanse of Flintlock Fortress is done in close collaboration with @dxppercxdxver, and we're discussing a great deal even if we're actually writing on separate parts of the story.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I think when it comes to sheer years-long staying power, that badge has to go to Livesey/Trelawney.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I really would like to finish some of my earlier Treasure Island and Hornblower attempts, like the selkie au and the tattoo-sorcery story. I was definitely biting off more than I could chew plot-wise at the time and I'm more confident writing at length now, but I really don't have a ton of enthusiasm for the almost complete rewrites those stories would need to feel right to me, and so probably not.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I really do pride myself on my ability to Describe poetically and to spin an interesting sentence. enough of my fics are extended versions of things that I couldn't make work as a single drawing that that's become quite an important thing for me.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

plots, and overall forming a story to have a solid structure and not just be a vaguely interesting selection of scenes... and I'm definitely not very good at imitating authorial voice, even when I'm trying very hard to do so.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

like most everything, it's good when done with intention — I really wish I'd gotten quite good enough at Latin to do what I'd been intending and write some Hornblower fic entirely in Latin.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I'd guess Stand Still Stay Silent, altho' I never ended up finishing any of the stories I began, and that was long before I had such a thing as an ao3 account (or even my current file-keeping system,) so where that all ended up I've got no clue at all.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

well, I think it's got to be the wormsfic... I'm just beyond proud of it even in its currently unfinished state and I think it's excellent proof of the fact that I've actually grown as a writer over the last few years.

and I shall tag... @dxppercxdxver, @cedarboots, @baronetcoins, @kigiom, @bishakespeares, and @lacomandante, if you're interested?

#one of those tag things #these were fun to ponder!

[cr-noble-writes]

AO3 Meme

tagged by @dandenbo <3

Rules: Give us the links to your wonderful words with the most hits, most kudos, most comments, most bookmarks, most words, and least words.

I almost feel like I should do two separate categories here, because I have way more of everything on my SPN fanfic just based on the fact that it's been around longer and is a bigger fandom. Plus I've written way more fics for it lol. So, I'm putting SPN under a cut because I am not really active in that fandom at this point, but I want to include it because tbf, some of my greatest works of writing were done in it.

Mass Effect:

Most Hits, Kudos, & Bookmarks : All's Fair in Love and Sparring (mshenko, E) It starts off as a sparring match, and they both win in Shepard's cabin. (Porn always gets the most hits in my experience lol)

Hits: 1154 Kudos: 87 Bookmarks: 14

Most Comments:

Couldn't Utter My Love (mShep/trans mShep, M) Jackson Shepard, Commander of the Normandy spends a lot of time with Alex Atruzea, right hand of Aria T'Loak on Omega. Perhaps not my most popular fic, but one that I truly love, and that the people reading it also seem to love!

Comments: 72

Most Words:

Growing Pains (pre-canon mshep, GA) Alex Shepard hopped a cargo ship with an unknown destination when he was twelve and ended up in the Asari colony of Blackdamp on Asteria. He liked the colony, and when he told Ishara—the Asari who found him in the streets—that he’d rather stay in Blackdamp than be sent to the human colony on the other side of the planet, she adopted him.

Word Count: 13088

Least Words:

Disappointment (pre-canon mShep & Hannah Shepard, T) In which Jackson talks to Hannah about turning down her ICT recommendation.

Word Count: 390

tagging: @waidwn @pastelroyce @commander-krios @nickelkeep @bleuzombie @imbiowaresbitch and @wrathoscribbles if y'all wanna do the thing!

Supernatural (Not counting Season Z because I only wrote two chapters of that)

Most Hits:

Lock Me Up (Destiel, M). Dean and Cas have been together for a few years now, exploring their D/s relationship, mostly trying things that Cas suggests, until Dean finally finds something he really wants to try. Again, porn always gets lots of hits lolol

Hits: 8490

Most Kudos: Watching You (Destiel, E) Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak barely knew each other when they were forced to marry by a legal contract between their respective fathers. That was a month ago, and though they’ve been sharing a bed for that entire time, they have yet to consummate the marriage. But Castiel can’t deny his new husband is sinfully hot, and the more time they spend together, the more he thinks he’s falling for him. But Dean never gives any indication that he might feel the same way. Until one night when he thinks Castiel is asleep.

Kudos: 518

Most Comments:

The Quest for the Demon King's Heart (Destiel, E) In a fantasy land, Dean, the Demon King, goes to a distant guild to take a break from evil, where he meets a young adventurer, Castiel, on a quest to slay the Demon King. For fun, Dean helps and protects the adventurer, and affection grows between them. Then, they arrive at the gates of his castle.

Comments: 178

Most Bookmars:

You Should See Me In A Crown (Destiel, E) Dean Winchester: native of Chelsea, MA, ex-Navy Seal sniper, freelance assassin. Known as The Hunter, he works with a small group of other freelance criminals in the Network, where they can share resources, vet clients, and choose targets with confidence. He never takes a job if the target doesn’t deserve their fate and he draws hard lines at assassinating people in front of their families. And he’s got a massive bone to pick with Alistair Sorokin. Castiel may be an important figure within the Russian mafia, running their gambling and prostitution rackets, but he dislikes the way the Pahkan, the boss, runs the family. Alistair is far too violent and Castiel believes it's bad for business. Though he detests unnecessary bloodshed, it's an easy decision for him to hire The Hunter to help him dispose of Alistair and take over the ruling seat to restore order and eliminate the unnecessary tensions and violence between the Russians, the Irish, and the Italians. Neither man is prepared for the feelings developing between them as they work through the long list of targets.

Bookmarks: 118

Most Words:

Falling Apart (Destiel end-game, T) Sword & Cross Resident Rehabilitation is a last-ditch effort for Dean Winchester to move past the drug and drinking problems he developed to bury his guilt over the fire that killed his brother. Not to mention the wild visions and smoky, sentient shadows that have plagued him his entire life. It's supposed to be the best Savannah has to offer, but one look at the crumbling tile floors and dangling crown mouldings, and Dean has his doubts. Enter Castiel Novak. He’s rude, aloof, and a total dick from the moment they lay eyes on each other but Dean can’t help but feel a mysterious connection to the man. Maybe he really has lost his mind. But when Castiel starts making appearances in Dean’s vivid visions of the past, he knows there is more to their link than meets the eye. Even if Cas keeps telling him otherwise. It seems everyone at Sword & Cross knows what’s going on except for Dean. Trying to conquer his mountain of guilt and doubt and figure out the connection he is certain he shares with Castiel is only made harder by the “accidents” that seem to follow him. Not to mention his attraction to Gadreel. Whatever secret Castiel is trying so hard to keep, Dean knows he has to uncover it.

Word Count: 49204

Least Words:

Pants (Castiel/OFC, No rating) An almost drabble I wrote for someone during as a request during a follower celebration.

Word Count: 194

#tag games #ao3 meme #mass effect #supernatural #cr noble writes

[lightwing-s]

Got tagged by my lovely Nessie at @igotanidea

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

I'll be tagging: only @angelltheninth and @millyhelp because I have no one else to tag lol

How many works do you have on AO3?

It's a shame really that I've never been an AO3 user. I recognize that's the best place for a fic writer to be but I was always so used to tumblr that I feared migrating and not getting a new platform. But lmk if you think I should start publishing there as well

What’s your total A03 word count?

//

What fandoms do you write for?

I write mostly Dick and Jason, but I do all the BatBoys + Bruce, Narnia and now COD, but I’m also open to write for a few other Marvel, Harry Potter and other fandoms I also enjoy. So it’s always wise to ask me if I write a certain character because I might eventually do.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

//

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I love receiving comments, be it on replies or reblogs, they always bring a smile on my face wherever I am. However, sometimes I feel like I’d be bothering people if I replied (????), like idk, so I most commonly don’t but in my head I’m having full on conversations with everyone lol. I feel like I need to change this and interact more with my readers.

New Year resolution, perhaps?

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Maybe 'I'll Show You' or 'Gravity', but I'm not even sure those count. I noticed I always make my fics have a happy ending.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I love happy ending fics, so I mostly write them. I’m not sure which one is the happiest though. 'Hello Officer' has a pretty good happy ending imo.

Do you get hate on your fic?

Thankfully not!

Do you write smut?

Yep, although I feel like it’s not my best quality. I’m getting better though, I feel, and it’s not as hard for me to write it as it once was.

Do you write crossovers?

Never been the biggest fan of the trope/genre

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Again, thankfully not.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not this one either

Have you ever co-written a fic?

Me and my friend had some plans a few years ago, but never came to do it. I’m open to doing it though.

What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

MonDler (Friends), Percabeth (PJandTO), Spitfire (Young Justice)

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Gravity — Jason Todd x Reader

What’s your writing strengths?

Comfort moments, certain descriptions of feelings, and definitely backstories!

What’s your writing weaknesses?

I’ll put here: smut (I had never written it before last year, so I’m slowly getting better at it); vocabulary, as English is not my first language, and writing speed haha.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I feel like it has to be done in a way that will not get in the way of the reader’s reading, specially if they don’t know the language and might struggle to understand and keep up with the story. I like it to a certain degree, it has to be done write for it to work I guess.

First fandom you wrote for?

First fandom I wrote for and posted or the first I’ve EVER written for? Those are two different answers haha. The first question would be DC/BatBoys, the second would be One Direction.

ACTUALLY!!! I did have a One Direction tumblr with a few friends back in like 2014? They were probably first that I wrote for AND published lol.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Has to be "I want to k__ you". Starting from the title, I think I wrote it as perfectly as I could and finished it on a nice note.

#tag game #i had forgotten to post this lol

[galacticwildfire]

Illicit Affairs | Obi-Wan Kenobi

Two

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Amidala!oc

Rhea Amidala meets Obi-Wan Kenobi when he and his master come to her younger sisters aid and he discovers the queen's sister was once a Jedi, expelled from the order for her unwillingness to forgo love and attachment. The two stranded together on Tatooine find common ground despite their differences, and above all a hope within the other for something greater than themselves.

Word count: 6k

Tags/warnings: some angst, mostly fluff, a bit of darth maul

A/N: enjoy the fluff while it lasts because my god will there be angst. Also this is one of my favourite star wars chapters I've ever written

~

~

~

Obi-Wan and I stand outside the ship, watching the sand storm in the distance as it becomes clear to us this won't be just a quick stop.

"Follow after them," I tell Panaka and for once we're in agreement. "The rest of the crew will be safe with me, but I need to know she's safe."

"At once," he says and leaves to track them down, leaving Obi-Wan and I in charge.

I know it's raised questions in his mind why I'd send the queens guard after a handmaiden but he isn't an idiot, he knows there's reasons why a young queen has a selection of nearly identical handmaidens. 

"Well, this is definitely going to slow them down," he comments while I nod.

"She better be careful," I find myself muttering and sigh "I trust her, but still."

"Still you worry," he finishes. "That's understandable. Let me guess, Padme is your sister and the queen inside is a decoy?"

Considering he's in charge of her safety as much as I am I nod. "Yes. That's right."

"It's smart," he appreciates. "So the queen is with my master then." I nod again and he assures me. "She is safe with him."

"I know, but I don't trust him to be able to keep her from doing anything risky, which is why I've sent Panaka. She'll listen to him."

"By risky you mean anything you'd do?"

That brings a shadow of a smile to my face. "Precisely."

I look at him and see a shadow of one on his face as well now we've called a truce and curse myself a little for actually liking him, I will give it to him that it's been a long time since someone's held their own with me in an argument and not despised me afterwards. It's an unfortunate past time for me arguing over ideology.

But that isn't why I like him, no, it's something deeper than a mere respect, perhaps an appreciation for his company during this anxiety. 

It's then I hear Rabe call for me "A transmission from home!"

Obi-Wan and I share a look before heading back inside the ship where Sabe takes the transmission and I brace myself as an advisor appears.

"The death toll is catastrophic," Padme's advisor tells us in a hologram. "We must bow to their wishes. You must contact me."

"No," I immediately say switching it off. "He's a captive, we can't trust him now."

"She's right it's a trick," Obi-Wan agrees. "Send no reply. Send no transmissions of any kind."

"They'll only use it to reverse the signal to find our location," I say and he nods in agreement as I order the crew "Ensure there is no way they can intercept a location from the ship."

"Yes my lady," they immediately say but Obi-Wan isn't finished.

"Obi-Wan?" I ask as he leaves the room and follow him into the cockpit. "Obi-Wan?"

"I'm contacting Qui-Gon," he tells me, bringing this to his masters attention. "Master Qui-Gon, there's been a transmission from one of the Queen's advisors begging the queen to bow to the Trade Federation's wishes and contact them."

"It sounds like bait to establish a connection trace," he says, agreeing with what Obi-Wan and I believe.

Obi-Wan looks to me as he apologetically asks "But what if it is true, and people are dying?"

"Then those decisions fall to me," I tell him with a weight on my shoulders since Padme isn't here. "All we can do is wait for them to return so we can get off this rock and appeal to the Senate."

If it were up to me I would have acted the moment they first threatened us as her advisor for military matters, except there is no military despite my urging of Padme to begin expanding the security force. If we had a military I'd storm the city and wipe out the Trade Federation but that's not the Naboo way, it's not how Padme was raised. It was how I was raised. With Mace Windu over my shoulder, being my masters master.

"Either way we're running out of time," Qui Gon tells us before cutting the connection and we share a heavy look.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you and your people," Obi-Wan tells me, and he genuinely does mean it, he wants to help as much as I do.

"The trouble with being a pacifist planet with no military is this," I tell him and remember "Mace Windu trained my master and took a liking to me because I suppose I was more like him than the others, I had his urge for action over inaction, the only issue was I took that too far." He takes my words in and treats them with concern. "He'd be useful now."

"Mace Windu is an oddity that much is for sure," he agrees, the purple lightsaber being the least of it. "But have faith in Qui-Gon."

"I do," I assure Obi-Wan as we head back into the room with the generator, empty of handmaidens and security, just us. "I don't know how many diplomatic missions I accompanied Master Billaba on and yet I'm useless when I find myself in the middle of my own. Panaka and the rest don't respect my council, they know Padme just appointed me that so I'd feel some purpose."

"You do have purpose," he says and upon seeing the look on my face insists. "You do."

"Whatever purpose I had I gave it up when I was just fourteen," I tell him and he's quiet as I sigh and finally admit the truth. "Five years ago I was Padme's age. I knew I didn't fit in how I should, so I'd look to Qui-Gon and Mace Windu to convince myself I had a place there, but that's the thing, they took me when I was still old enough that I could remember a different life."

He nods in understanding and confides as he may have before if I hadn't jumped to arguing for the sake of it. "I've tried to hold onto my own memories, they slip away with age but there's still fragments, my mothers shawl, my fathers hands." Emotion creeps into his voice. "I think I had a baby brother."

The way his voice wavers with vulnerability exposes my own. "I have an older sister, Sola. She's only a year older than me, we were inseperable, and Padme well, she was just a baby when they came for me."

He looks confused "But it's Republic regulation to test children upon birth for force sensitivity?"

"Somehow I slipped through the cracks," I find myself saying but remember "Now I think about it all those off world relief missions my father would take me on as a child may have been for a reason. He was the one who fought against me being taken after all so maybe they did come when I was younger when I wasn't there. I mean, what better excuse is there to give than the potential Jedi is away helping those in need? Perhaps whoever they sent thought it could only benefit me and decided to come back in a year."

"It is a reasonable answer," he says, seeming surprised almost but I can't pinpoint why. 

"I had just turned six when they came and tested the family, Sola was normal, Padme- I think she might have been a little higher than normal but whatever I am it's enough that they told me they couldn't wait any longer and that I had to go with them and my mother happily agreed." A tear slips from the corner of my eye despite my best efforts and I don't wipe it away. "I didn't understand, she just stood there with my father as my sister cried and I was screaming. It was actually Master Windu who took me and well, you can imagine he wasn't gentle with the dressing down he gave me about my emotions." I realise my hands are trembling slightly as I grip the flowing fabric of my jumpsuit, red and gold like the royal colours of Naboo but with none of the extravagance, a halter around my neck with a fitted waist and a flowing bottom. I cling to the feeling of the fabric, to ground myself as I was taught and look up at the ceiling as I ramble. "I know it sounds pathetic, all of the Jedi were taken from their families but for some reason it was something I could never get over."

I'm jolted out of my daze by the touch of his hand on my cheek, wiping away that single tear and the touch is so foreign, to be comforted. "It's okay Rhea," he says gently. "You don't need to explain."

I let out a tearful laugh as I reach up to touch his hand, grasping it tight for some sort of stability before pulling it away from my face, still unable to be contented with being comforted. "You can see why I never made it as a Jedi now can't you?"

He shakes his head. "You can't blame yourself for loving your family, it's only human. Master Qui-Gon tells me that it's not as if we aren't allowed to have these feelings whatever they may be, but that it's our responsibility to let them go instead of holding on."

I look at him finding a new middle ground, realising perhaps Qui Gon's led his interpretation of the code to something more human than I'd first observed.

"I wish all Jedi thought as you and Qui-Gon did," I admit to him. "If they did perhaps I would have come here with you as an ambassador instead of as an escapee."

My eyes meet his and I realise my hands been touching his for far too long and release it, not knowing what to do with how that makes me feel as he tells me "You might not be a part of the order, but that doesn't change what you are."

I give him the same kind smile he gives me and my eye catches the glint of his saber. "I do miss it, my saber."

He raises a curious eyebrow "What form did you study?"

"My master insisted on III but I preferred form V."

He's almost amused. "Of course you would."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I laugh.

"It's a form built on dominating your opponent," he says and remarks "If that isn't you in a nutshell."

I want to try to refute his assessment but it's accurate. "Well, you aren't wrong. I was top of my class at a young age with saber skills, I remember Master Dooku even paying special attention to me but he'd left the order by the time I was old enough to become a padawan and so Master Billaba took me on. I worked on my form but it was Master Windu of all people who saw the emotions in me and gave her permission to teach me VII."

"Seven?" he exclaims, truly scandalised now. "That's seen as taboo by the council, forbidden even."

There's a troublesome glint in my smile. "Exactly, but under certain circumstances they'll allow it. It was Master Windu who invented Vaapad and taught it to my master and she taught it to me with his permission. My masters believed my passion only fueled my strength because for me there was no darkness since it didn't come from a place of fear, but justice."

"Passion?" he repeats, and I know that would be a rare word for Jedi like him.

"Yes, the forbidden fruit," I say, tasting the words with a dramatic touch to my voice. "Oh such a dangerous thing passion, oh no Obi-Wan Kenobi don't dare speak the word or else you'll turn Sith!"

He can't help but laugh and so do I, smiling as I lean back against the broken hyperdrive generator, feeling a kinship I haven't felt since I left the order.

"That is one thing Master Qui-Gon does not discourage," he suddenly tells me. "Passion."

"Really?" I ask and keeping it light inquire "So, does that mean you've explored forbidden attachments."

From the way his cheeks redden and his eyes sadden I have my answer. "When I was a lot younger and a lot less wiser."

He'd be in his early twenties but Jedi always do grow up too fast and become consumed with grief far too young. I know many padawans would play kissing games and such, but have an inkling that what he's referring to isn't anything like that.

"Are they alive?" I ask, treading carefully, feeling the energy change between us.

He gives a stiff nod. "Yes, that's what I was assigned to do, keep her alive." Now it's him who struggles with words and hesitates before telling me. "For a year I was with her, protecting her, but I never acted on what I felt until the mission came to an end."

I'm quiet, his forbidden attachment wasn't playful or even sexual, it was something far deeper.

"You loved her," I realise and he looks away, I don't press further. "It seems I mistook you, because you would know the struggles between love and duty better than I ever could."

I see him realise that he does, perhaps more than he ever admitted to himself before. 

"It was a long time ago."

I nod, taking the burden of conversation off of him, finding myself able to speak with more ease with him than anyone I've ever known despite this short time in each other's company.

"I've never been in love despite all my concerns about attachment," I confide in him, finding irony that I raise such issues when I've never had to deal with them as he has. "I've certainly never been loved either."

His eyes meet mine and it's as if he can read my feelings "But you want to be."

"Who doesn't?" I reply quietly. "If you had the chance to love again wouldn't you take it? Code and duty aside of course."

I watch him ponder that question and he's conflicted "I wouldn't want to suffer that loss again."

"To love without fear, that's what I desire," I tell him, realising in my heart just how alone I've been for so long. "I'm willing to take whatever grief may come, if only to be loved."

Here we are, two Jedi, discussing the most forbidden thing we possibly can.

Love.

Before either of us can dig this hole any deeper I feel my transmitter going off and it jolts me back to the situation at hand.

"That will be Padme," I say, her call breaking the tension. "Excuse me."

I find myself breathless as I leave the room to enter the empty hallway, and feel hot tears on my cheeks as I'm overwhelmed by the loneliness I've been suppressing for so long without even realising it. 

How can I object to the Jedi's code of attachment when I've never even been in love? And yet here is Obi-Wan, carrying this weight in his heart that I could never understand and still obeying the code completely.

"Rhea?" I hear her asking and sniffle, wiping the tears away as he did before.

"I'm here," I say and force a smile, even though she cannot see me. "How are you?"

"Safe," she answers. "A boy has given us shelter from the storm, he's quite nice, the people here are welcoming, even if they are slaves."

She's always had a heart so big, and so did I once.

"I'm glad you are safe," I tell her. "Everything is fine here."

"You don't sound fine," she replies and asks "What's wrong?"

"The past always finds a way of coming back Padme, know that," I tell her and breathe, knowing even if I've never been loved in the way I crave that I have her and Sola. "I love you more than life, you know that."

"Of course I know that," she promises me. "I love you too."

Tears continue wetting my face. "I'll see you when you get back, okay?"

"Okay."

The communication ends and I'm crying, desperate to protect her and Sola, not out of fear of losing them, but just wanting to make everything okay for her so she never feels what I do. So she never has to know what it is to be thrown away and discarded, by your family, by the people who raised you, only to grow up and find that it was all for nothing. 

Because despite everything, I'm still alone inside.

~

It's late when Obi-Wan finds me outside, watching the setting Tatooine suns in contemplation, feeling the force more strongly than I have in years.

"It's a sight isn't it," he remarks, but I can hear the worry in his voice.

"It is."

I feel his hand on my arm, his voice gentle. "You should come inside, it gets cold at night here."

"Not colder than space," I reply, taking a moment just to stand there with him, with another person who understands the conflict in my mind. "I'm glad I've met you Obi-Wan."

"And I you," he says and I look back at him, immediately feeling a sense of comfort. "It looks like we'll get to know each other better than we planned, this plan they've cooked up means we'll likely be here for a while longer."

"Do I even want to know?" I ask him and he sighs.

"It involves a child and podracing."

I laugh at the ridiculousness of it, deciding I don't want to know. "That's all I need to hear."

He notices the goosebumps on my arms, clothes designed for weather on Naboo, for training in the sun, not for places like this and takes his cloak, wrapping it around my shoulders. The familiar feeling of a Jedi's cloak is oddly comforting, although I suspect it is only because it's his.

His hand lingers on my arm, neither of us go to remove it as we look back towards the setting suns and I say "No matter how ugly a planet's society may be, or how corrupt, there's always beauty no matter what,and I'd rather stand here watching setting suns a thousand time's over and feel peace then dwell on fear and all that horridness."

I can hear the tragedy in my own words, at how with age I've become more of a Jedi than I ever intended, and he can feel it too. "

"You can feel it here can't you?" he asks, that peace. "The force."

My smile comes naturally to me. "The force as it should be. No rules or order. Just being. Just living with it and feeling it. How it should be." But there's also something else and I look in the direction Padme and Qui-Gon went. "But there's something strange here, you can feel it can't you?"

"I can, and so can Qui Gon," he tells me, it's then his transponder beeps and his hand slides up and down over the fabric covering my cold arm as he looks and answers it. "Master?"

"I need an analysis of this blood sample I'm sending you," Qui Gon says and we share a confused look before heading back on board the ship.

"Wait a minute," Obi-Wan says as we return to the empty cockpit to receive the transmission and I sit beside him, his cloak still wrapped around me. 

"I need a midichlorian count," Qui Gon tells us and my stomach sinks with a sick feeling. He's found a child, but it's forgotten the moment I look at Obi-Wan's screen.

"Is that real?" I exclaim as the results come through.

"It's off the charts?" Obi-Wan says in equal disbelief. "Over 20 000. Even Master Yoda doesn't have a midichlorian count that high."

I'm speechless, the two of us sharing a look as Qui Gon says "No Jedi has."

"That- that's impossible," I stammer.

"What does it mean?" Obi-Wan asks Qui Gon.

"I'm not sure," he answers and trails off. "I'll check in with you soon."

The connection ends and Obi-Wan and I stare at the screen, then look at each other as if making sure it's real, and no matter how many times he runs the test it's the same result.

"So," I finally say. "It seems Qui-Gon found that strange something in the force."

"That he has," he agrees and we share an alarmed look, not even able to imagine what this will mean and gets out a device to test it. "Let's test ours to make sure it's not a system error."

I nod in agreement and he takes samples from us both to run and I'm actually curious to see what mine is, the results come back almost immediately. Obi-Wan and I's count is within a few hundred of each other, his 13000 and mine 13800, higher than some masters but nothing exceptional, it's only a guide for raw ability. Skill and force mastery as we're constantly reminded are far more important than that count. 

Obi-Wan's may be lower than mine but with a decade more of proper training I have no doubts he'd best me in a fight using the force. I would win hand to hand with a saber, I know damn well I always surpassed even the best students in my training, but the force is something else.

"So, it works," I say, us coming to terms with the fact Qui-Gon has found the most powerful child known to the Jedi Order. "I think Master Yoda's going to finally die when he hears this."

He nods in agreement, equally stunned. "I don't know how my master always gets into these situations."

"I dare say it's no coincidence we landed here," I realise. "It does seems we may be here for a long while yet."

He nods, coming to that possibility too and I sigh, pulling his cloak tighter around me as I stand and he asks "Where are you going?"

"Outside," I tell him, not wanting to stay cooped up in the ship. "I want to look at the sky." He hesitates and I coax "Come on."

He follows me outside and I look up, having rarely seen any night skies but Naboo's or Coruscants, and finding it almost as beautiful as the twin suns.

"One thing about our galaxy is every planets sky is always different, some barren and others filled with more than our minds could ever comprehend," I begin and tell him "It's where I often feel the force most and remind myself it is in everything, every star and planet in the sky and all the space in between."

He comes to stand by my side and admits. "With all the rules I tend to forget the force is more than just the code."

I smile to myself, us finally on the same page. "It's something I only truly discovered after I left the order, when I had to search for it in every living thing to find it instead of being reminded of it every waking moment." He's looking at me as I look at the night sky. "I find I only truly understand it when I realise it isn't meant to be understood, but felt."

His face is drawn in contemplation and I wander forward from the ship to bask in it, finding myself one in it and extend my hand to him "Come on."

He comes to me and takes my hand, letting me guide it up towards the stars. "Tell me that meditation could ever make you feel as one with the force as when you just let yourself feel instead of focusing on the absence of feeling."

Our entire lives we've been trained to feel the force through the absence of all other emotions, to feel only nothing, instead of feeling everything without blocking anything out, and I watch as he lets himself finally feel all of it.

"Luminous beings," he begins and I feel a change within him. "It's what Qui-Gon once told me we are, it's easy to forget it."

"It is," I admit, his hand now in mine and only now consumed by the force do I feel something else, a white light between us. "And just like finding that boy, I do believe things happen for a reason. Leaving the order, finding you and ending up stranded here." I have to believe it, despite how my mind likes to fight with my instincts. "I forget it, I get angry and hostile and forget everything I've ever been taught but somehow on quiet nights looking up at the galaxy I manage to find it."

All this time I've been lost, but finally I feel as if with him coming into my life I'm being pulled by the force in his direction, and I trust it. 

He squeezes my hand and I finally look at him, finding galaxies in his eyes. A man I fought so fervently with, all for the sake of letting my hatred loose, and now finding little of that left in my heart. 

I feel drunk on starlight now as I finally stop fighting my mind and let myself feel, pulling him down to the ground with me where we lay on our backs side by side to take it all in. 

"Do you feel it?" I ask him, the strangeness that we've both felt, not just in a boy miles away, but in the space between us.

I don't need to clarify just what it is I feel as he confirms "I feel it too."

He's the one now who guides my hand having studied the star maps, pointing out the distant star systems and nearer moons, both of us smiling and laughing into the night, our hearts lighter than I knew they could ever be. My own having never felt such pure peace in its nineteen years.

I look over at him as he explains something about the moons orbital cycle and find myself more entranced by him as I study his face in the moonlight, I don't know for just how long I do so until he turns his head towards me and whatever words he's saying are forgotten when he catches my eye and I feel my breath hitch. 

For just a moment I see a flash of something in his eyes, a hesitation, both of us knowing in the back of our minds this is everything we were always cautioned against, but it disappears with the feeling of the force and I see him let himself feel it, all of it, instead of trying to focus on the absence of emotion.

All I know as I look into his eyes is that this is that forbidden fruit, utterly unexpected and yet almost as if it has to be the will of the force in how we came to meet and unlike how I was told it would feel. There's no fear, no pain, nothing of the sort.

Only light.

~

The suns have risen as I stir awake and find my head resting on something unfamiliar and open my eyes to find my head resting on his shoulder, slowly feeling his arm around me and feel the weight of his cloak draped over us, not remembering quite how we ended up like this but vaguely remembering something about being cold. 

"Obi-Wan?" I murmur, and feel his hand smoothing over my hair. "What time is it?"

"Morning," he answers from the light that hits us, sounding like he's not long woken up himself. "It seems we dozed off."

I laugh softly. "No shit."

His hand is touching my cheek as I look up at him, a gentle smile on my face that quickly disappears the moment we realise just how wrong this is despite how right it feels and I suddenly go to sit up, sand falling out of my hair and he has to help me up as I twice at my stiff muscles.

"Up you get, there you go," he says with a hand on my back and we're both laughing quietly to try to ease the tension that is utterly different to how it was when we got on that ship. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in days," I answer truthfully, it being the first night I haven't laid awake in either frustration or fear. "And thankfully the world hasn't fallen apart while I did."

"Don't say that too soon," he cautions. "Our lives are depending on a nine year old with a podracer."

"Don't remind me," I say having to laugh from the ridiculousness of it. "Oh Obi-Wan, we are in quite the mess aren't we."

"That we are," he says, but it's with the accidental brush of his fingers along my spine I'm blushing and he looks around as if just remembering where we are. "But it seems we got the easier part of the mission, guarding the ship."

It's then I can feel something on the tip of my tongue. "Obi-Wan, Obi- Ben? Old Ben Kenobi!" I yell out in sudden realisation. "I do remember!"

"Oh no," he groans. "Masters nickname for me when I was younger."

I'm laughing as I finally realise why I couldn't place him despite knowing Qui-Gon. "Oh now I remember Master Qui Gon mentioning you, he kept calling you old Ben- I truly thought he meant an old man not you."

"Because he said I had the soul of a old man," I'm almost crying from laughter, still half asleep. "It's not funny!"

"It really is because it's true," I laugh and he laughs with me as I reach out to touch his face after having spent the night looking into those bright eyes. "You are an old soul Ben Kenobi,  but a beautiful one of that." At the colour that comes to his face I give him a thoughtless peck on the cheek and I get to my feet, a little dizzy, but happy. "Now we better actually check the ship's still intact."

I grab his hand to pull him to his feet and we walk through the ship with a newfound ease with one another, finding the pilots and security also at ease and the handmaidens giggling like the fourteen year old girls they should be, and I'm wondering from the looks they share as I walk past if they caught me outside with him.

"See, we're still flying half a ship," he says as we look around, everything in order.

"Except it's not flying that's the problem," I remind him and we head back outside to check everything out there is alright, no Tuskan Raiders creeping up on us.

I smile up at the suns kissing my face, feeling Obi-Wan slide his cloak off my shoulder's so I can feel the sun on my skin and smile up them as I bathe in it.

"Oh that is beautiful," I smile, craving the warmth it gives me and know I truly was built for Naboo's weath.

"It's not the only thing," he murmurs as if he half expected the words to remain in his head and I can't help the smile on my face as I look at him, standing there and looking at me in a way I can only call awe. 

"Is that so?"

"You're made for the sun," he tells me and after a moment of contemplation continues. "Tan skin, dark hair and those big brown eyes of yours, you look as if you could bathe in it forever and you'd only grow richer from it."

His words leave me speechless and I manage to get out "I didn't realise you were so poetic Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"And I didn't realise Rhea Naberrie was well, you."

"Me?" I question, suddenly confused and he elaborates.

"You aren't the only one who remembered some things, I remember the fuss now when you left,' he reveals, finally having placed me just as I've placed him. "They called you reckless and even dangerous but looking at you now, you couldn't be further from that."

"Reckless or dangerous?" I tease but the look in his eyes makes my breath catch in my throat.

"Well you might be a little reckless, certainly a whole lot of trouble but not dangerous," he tells me, and he might be the first person, or at least the first Jedi, who has looked at me and seen what I never could. "I have no doubt you'd be deadly in a fight, you're a Jedi after all, but there's no darkness, none of that, just light."

Now I am truly speechless, especially so as he extends his saber to me and I look up at him "Obi-Wan..."

"Go on," he says with a warm smile. "I know you miss it."

He places his saber in my hands, a sign of trust, and the rush that goes through me as I ignite it brings tears to my eyes and I smile at the blue light, and at him. 

"I do- I do miss it," I breathe, feeling it in my soul. "I truly do miss it."

"Then perhaps there's a way," he proposes and there he is, a light I never expected. "A way you could become a Jedi again." 

Hope.

And something in me causes me to throw my arms around his neck, on the tips of my toes to reach, the saber in my hand hope materialised. When I pull back to look at him I can feel the space around us slow, his touch almost overwhelming as he holds my cheek, as my hand wraps around the back of his neck, and I realise what it is to be lost in someone's eyes.

It's in that very moment as the light is so blinding I can't feel anything else and as I search his eyes I realise just what it is I've been searching for since leaving the order, and it's right in front of me. Whether it's him, or the force, or something else. It's going to be with him. 

"Rhea," he begins as we become aware of this strange feeling between us until he looks past me, feeling it just before I do.

"What is it?" I ask him, unable to determine it myself.

"I'm not sure," he answers. "But it's something strange." He looks at me before removing my hand from the back of his neck only to take it in his own. "Come on, let's find out what it is."

Quietly we make our way through the desert, the force calling us over to the horizon and we trek until we find a cave that looks unsuspecting enough but still he draws his saber and discreetly puts himself in front of me. 

We expect something, anything, but when we enter we find it utterly empty, which confuses us both as we walk through it. 

It's only when Obi-Wan stops I realise he's in pain.

"Obi-Wan?"

"I feel grief," he tells me as he walks through it. "Agony."

"I- I don't feel any of that," I say quietly, seeing only the light that breaks through the holes in the roof. "I just feel... relief, the type of relief that makes you want to cry, I-" 

I find myself lost for words as I put a hand over my heart at the emotions that come to me, stronger than anything I've ever felt or knew I could feel, even if it's relief it's accompanied by agony just the same. 

He looks back at me and I realise he's feeling it too as he reaches for his own heart. 

"Obi-" I begin as I step forward as he grimaces. "Obi-Wan."

"I'm alright," he tries to insist but we both know he's not. "It's just- I've never felt anything like this."

"Neither have I," I say and reach for his hand with the need to hold onto something for stability. 

"Are you alright?" he asks me as if he doesn't look as if he's about to collapse under the weight of the agony he feels. "Rhea?"

"I'm fine," I assure him, faring better than he is at least and see him looking around the cave with a pure dread. "Obi-Wan?"

He shakes his head and I hold onto him as begins "This..." he trails off unable to find the words.

"What is this?" I find myself whispering, the emotions I feel, I wish I could say they weren't my own but I know somehow that they are. 

"I don't know but I don't like it," he answers shortly and grasps my hand tight in his. "We're leaving."

I don't argue with him as we leave the cave behind and yet as I look back over my shoulder I leave with a knowing that someday we'll return to it. 

Neither of us acknowledges what we felt inside of there as we quickly make our way back to the ship, each of us with a newfound eagerness to get off this strange planet and just as we reach it we see them in the distance and I look at him in astonishment.

They did it.

"Rhea!" I hear Padme calling out and I let go of him to run forward towards her and she practically jumps into my arms. "We're back."

"Did you get it?"

"We got it," she smiles up at me and I instinctively look back at Obi-Wan, smiling in relief as I meet his eyes and nod in confirmation, hugging her again as Qui-Gon comes. Once the commotion has eased we realise Qui-Gon is not staying.

"Master?"

"I'm going back," he tells Obi-Wan and me. "Some unfinished business, I won't be long."

Obi-Wan sarcastically remarks "Why do I sense we've picked up another pathetic lifeform?"

"Don't insult Jar Jar," I retort, both of us laughing and Qui-Gon chuckles.

"I'm glad you two are finally getting along. It's the boy who's responsible for getting us these parts," he tells us and we quickly remember him, having forgotten about the boy with a midichlorian count that should not be possible after the events of the evening. "Get this hyperdrive generator installed."

"Yes Master," Obi-Wan says. "That shouldn't take long."

Qui-Gon goes again as quickly as he came, and we happily get to work.

~

I sit on top of the hyperdrive generator while Obi-Wan works on replacing the parts.

"You know what, I'm going to try to be optimistic and not worry about the ordeal that's going to be the senate until we actually get there," I tell him as I pass him the tools he needs. "But that being said I am worrying a lot."

"Your planet is under invasion, it would be strange if you weren't worrying," he replies as my legs dangle off the edge. "You quite happy up there at least?"

"Very," I answer, trying to make it last. "How are you going down there."

"Almost done," he answers and he lifts me off the generator by the waist, his hands lingering as he asks "Can you go check to see if Master Qui-Gon's near, he's been gone a while I'm starting to worry."

"Of course," I answer, still sensing some residual grief from that cave and peck his cheek again as I leave him to finish fixing the generator, but the moment I walk down the platform I know something isn't right. 

My eyes catch a droid nearby, a surveillance probe, and my stomach drops knowing we're the only thing in miles it would be looking at. My instincts kick in, whether it's from the Hutt's or someone else I shoot it down and at the sound of the blaster shot Obi-Wan runs out.

"Rhea!"

I turn back to him, blaster still in hand and warn "Somebody's been watching us."

It's then both our heads whip around to the sound of a speeder and we see Qui-Gon running towards us with a boy following and a speeder not far behind.

"Anakin drop!"

The boy drops to the ground while I fire on the speeder, only for Obi-Wan to grab me in equal horror as a red blade emerges, clashing with Qui-Gons green saber.

"Go!" Qui-Gon yells out. "Tell them to take off."

It's then me grabbing Obi-Wan, dragging him back to the ship and he remains calmer than I would be if that was my master, ordering the pilot to fly low so we can escape rather than fight, and I stare down at the red and black man who meets my eye and all I feel is pure darkness as Qui-Gon manages to jump on board and we disappear into the atmosphere.

"Master!" I yell out, Obi-Wan and I coming to Qui-Gons side while the boy yells out for him.

"I'm alright," he assures us, out of breath. "Or at least I think so."

"What was that?" Obi-Wan asks, my hand on his shoulder as I stand over them.

"I'm not sure," Qui-Gon admits. "But it was well trained in the Jedi arts, my guess is it was after the queen."

I feel Obi-Wans hand reaching out for mine now as I curse under my breath and the little boy asks "What are we gonna do about it?"

Qui Gon sighs and says "We shall be patient."

"Patient!" I snap, spinning back around and feel Obi-Wan trying to calm me down. "Whatever it is is after my sister and you're saying we should be patient?"

"There's not much else we can do right now," Obi-Wan tells me, hands gripping my arms to keep me in place. "Remember what you said about not worrying."

I narrow my eyes at him but don't argue, as at peace with the force as I may be in his presence when my sister is involved that goes right out the window. 

"If we see it again, it's dead," I say and he gives a permitting nod, not arguing with that after it tried to kill his master. 

"Anakin Skywalker," I hear Qui-Gon say and turn my attention to the boy he's taken. "Meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Hi," the boy says happily, shaking Obi-Wans hand. "You're a Jedi too? Pleased to meet you."

The apprehension I had when we heard about the boy eases when I see he's happy and considering he was most likely a slave I have no arguments but Obi-Wan and I both look at each other when we realise his age. I was taken at six and this boy would be even older than that, nine or so maybe, far too old and yet everything on this planet has been nothing but strange.

"Anakin, meet the Queen's sister Rhea," Qui-Gon says to the boy and he happily shakes my hand as well. 

"Pleased to meet you too," he says and tells me "You look like Padme."

I chuckle and so does Obi-Wan, the boy's bright or at least fascinated with my sister.

"I'm pleased to meet you Anakin," I say and check him over to make sure he's not hurt after that ordeal. "Come on, let's get you some water."

~

With everyone back on board and hours now into our journey to the capital I stand with Padme as she watches the transmission we received while she was away, her face stone as most of the crew sleeps. 

"We determined it was a trick to provoke us into giving up our location," I tell her, but it makes little difference. "We don't know if the reports of the death toll are true."

"But they could be," she says and her attention is only taken away from the matter by the boy sitting nearby and I watch as she goes over to him, her compassion stronger than her fear.

"Are you alright?" she asks him.

Only now the reality of leaving home is sinking in for the boy and I watch with concern as he says "It's very cold."

I watch as she brings him over a blanket and feel a familiar hand on my shoulder. 

"You look cold as well."

I run a hand down my bare arms, not protesting as he wraps his cloak around me. 

"The boy's right, space is cold," I say turning to Obi-Wan, leaving Padme with Anakin. "Is Qui-Gon alright?"

"Thankfully yes," he answers and asks me "But are you?"

In all honesty I shake my head. "My planet has been invaded and now someone who is trained in the Jedi arts is after my sister. I'm far from alright."

"Come on," he says guiding me somewhere quiet. "You should be sleeping, or at least resting. Once we reach the capital I suspect we won't be getting much."

"There's not many places to sleep on a ship like this," I yawn, despite having slept well I dare say we spent the better half of the night awake with one another. "Padme's only fourteen and dealing with all of this and more, she needs me."

"She has her handmaidens and you both need sleep," he says, likely knowing the sleep I got with him in the night was all I've had in days. Now I've had a little my body craves more, it craves it with him beside me. 

We sit down together in the engine room, warmth radiating from the shield generator and I turn my head to look at him, us shoulder to shoulder, and notice the tiredness in his own face. The grief that's been there since we walked into that cave.

"So do you."

"Well come on then," he says, wrapping an arm around me with the excuse of keeping me warm and immediately he puts me at ease in a way that no one else ever has. "Let's sleep."

"Let's sleep," I repeat, him taking me in his arms enough that my head rests comfortably against his shoulder, both of us finding comfort in one another and I swear as I fall asleep I feel his lips on my forehead. 

"Sweet dreams."

And I smile it back as I slip into sleep. "Sweet dreams."

#obi wan kenobi x oc #illicit affairs #wildfirewildflower #obi wan kenobi x amidala!oc #obi wan kenobi x f!oc #obi wan kenobi x original character #obi-wan kenobi x oc #obi-wan kenobi x original character #obi-wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfiction

[magpiefngrl]

🤍, 🍭, 💎 and 🪄for the fic writer asks! Or any other question you want to answer. Have a good day off! 😊

Hey babe!

🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

Oh that's an interesting question. Tbh, I don't think there is one. I've mostly written in drarry, which is a huge ship and it's rare for every single reader to not get what the story is about. Or perhaps my stories aren't that ambiguous: my intention has always been to take drarry to a HEA.

Now, individuals here and there seeing something differently to me, yes. Sometimes comments do surprise me by what the reader sees in a fic. I've come to realise that my fic (any writing really) is a fluid, flexible thing that depends on what the reader brings with them while reading. To give you an example, there's a fic of mine that I see as a little dark ( at least I wouldn't call it fluffy and heartwarming) and one of the comments I received was "this was so sweet".

Still, I wouldn't say the reader didn't get my story. Perhaps the ending with drarry kissing made them feel warm and happy and that's what they were describing. The sweetness of drarry finally in love.

This is what I've learned after years receiving comments: what the reader sees in a fic is usually a reflection of who they are rather than the words on page. It says more about them than me.

🍭why did you start writing?

I've always written. Since I was tiny. Like I said in this post, I'm a person who has an affinity for words and I've been voraciously reading books all my life, so writing combines two of my loves: storytelling using the medium of words.

💎why is writing important to you?

I don't have to depend on writing to make a living--and I gotta be honest: during my lowest times, I do wonder why I bother--but when I think of my life as a whole, when I imagine how I'll feel when I'm old, then I'd really like to have created something of mine and to have put it out into the world. A lot of my contribution to the world isn't tangible. I don't have children and any influence on my students/people around me isn't measurable. I'm not dismissing it, but I would like one day to point at a concrete thing, a story, a set of words on page, and say "hey, I made this and it was important for some people and there are folks out there who I've touched in some way. This is a piece of me and it may endure long past the time I'm gone.".

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

That's a great question. Now, my mental and emotional process while finishing a fic starts like this: "wow, this is great, I'm so excited to share it". However, the moment I hit Post, I become this trembling, insecure husk of a person who needs immediate validation or I'll die, and so I might refresh the page every 1.3 seconds, wondering why no one read and kudosed a 20k fic in the first 3.5 minutes. I'm not exaggerating. I've done this.

But I've learned. My first self-care action after posting is to Step Away From The Computer. I log off; go for a walk; do the dishes etc. I immediately do something that can make me stop worrying about how shit my story really is and what everyone will think. This practice keeps me sane and reminds me life doesn't start and end with the "success" of a story.

If it was a long fic that I'd spent ages on, I will spend the time after posting to do non-writing things. I like to fill the creative well with other books, TV series, walks, and I don't think about writing for a while. I need some time to decompress before I move on to the next story.

let’s get real fic writer asks

#inbox #my craft or sullen art

[phantomato]

for the choose violence ask game: 14, 18, and 24 for TLT!

Thank you so much!! I never get to go on about TLT here. 💖 From the ask game:

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

John dubconning or nonconning other characters. I get why it makes sense and I’ve written it too, but tbh I think it’s pretty feasible that he’s not like that. If he grew up in the social context that’s implied, he could be very self-conscious about sexual consent, actually! I could see a John who doesn’t have much sex and only accepts offers from people who are very, very clearly coming onto him (e.g. jizz heist). But yeah, I feel like I mostly see John engaging in consent-issues sex in fic.

Oh, and Third House fancy parties in pre-GtN fic. I would love to see Third House do something other than throw a gala.

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

OBVIOUSLY Silas/Colum. Yeah I get it, this is a majority f/f fandom, as it should be. But these two have such a sexy dynamic: loyalty/fealty, religious indoctrination, repression, a weird backward age gap (baby uncle!), they were literally bred for one another. It’s full of amazing potential to explore in a thousand different ways, and while I’d never expect it to be a top 10 ship, I think it’s a crime that its fans are so few. It seems like the popularity is hurt by the divisiveness of the Eighth house and perhaps that’s something that could be shifted by whatever happens in AtN.

I’ve got an idea for a setting-change AU fic which makes Silas and Colum the depraved Victorian family they were clearly meant to be and I’m going to try writing it next year. They’re just such a good ship and I hope that the fandom comes around on them. Also, Silas needs a fisting.

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

Jod. 😬 I remember watching a wank go down last year about John and war crimes and it devolved into the sort of disgusting “liking a villain makes you morally suspect” comments that run me out of engaging with a fandom. I’m neutral to negative on John, despite wanting to have liked him more, but IMO he’s a very standard morally-complicated bad guy and not worth that kind of discourse. He did terrible things, we’re supposed to recognize that he’s not a cartoon and he had reasons for them, and the narrative handles that fine. But I’m going to hide from most mentions of John Gaius because wow, it gets bad.

#the locked tomb #ask game

[kairospy]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @moondal514 (im a bit late my bad)

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

4

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

37,248

3. What fandoms do you write for?

All for the Game is my bread and butter, but i did write one for the Marauders

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

it takes two(but you and i are one) (AFTG / 13.6K) - the dynamic between neil, abram and nathaniel, delving a bit into the DSM-V because i am pedantic and a psych student

the ticking of a heart (AFTG / 5.3K) - andreil after a bad episode. hurt/comfort

genesis' wane (AFTG / 9.5K) - the twinyards

Owl Light (Marauders / 8.6K) - wolfstar with background jegulus but using fancy words

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

i do!!! i respond 99% of the time mostly because getting them makes my day (and week) so i should let the commenter know that

them: "really liked this!"

me: "hey just letting you know you made my fucking year and im no longer mentally ill so thanks for that" :)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

pf… Owl Light or it takes two

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

the ticking of a heart starts gut-wrenching but ends rather fluffy? so that one.

god i really have to post more

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i've gotten a "critique" and a bookmarks rating that's since been deleted. i would've been offended hadn't i found it funny

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

i… could? the thing is my writing's very much all nonsensical flowery prose and metaphors so i fear i'd get lost in the dramatics of it all instead of actually describing that they're fucking

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i do not (yet?)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I've had art stolen (posted without credit) but not a fic

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had many suggestions but i've yet to take someone up on the offer mostly because it would feel like having someone do a job for free and morally that feels a bit wrong

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

lord knows we've tried @butallmystars

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Andreil takes the cake and gold, silver goes to probably jerejean (because it's my current hyperfixation), and bronze to jegulus…maybe? (the fandom has made me resent them so much perhaps i should take the medal away)

honorary mentions go to wolfstar, jily & drarry

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

…yes

16. What are your writing strengths?

um flowery depictions of the mundane? idk i like talking like a thesaurus while getting my point across with excessive metaphors

That and characterization judging by what others have told me

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

plot

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

if you know that language or have a way to fact check it with someone other than google and the demon you accidentally summoned writing that gibberish, yes. 100%

otherwise, i'd say to use things like "he said in french" / "he muttered something in undecipherable german" if it's from the pov of someone who doesn't know the language

BUT do as you please, at the end of the day the point comes across, we're all here to have a good time not a long time, and people who don't know the language find it compelling :)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

…next question?

(on ao3 it was AFTG)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

probably it takes two (but you and i are one) but i honestly forget what they're about once i've posted them

No pressure tagging (apologies if you’ve already done this I haven’t been keeping track ): @butallmystars (suffer with me evelyn) & @soliloquy-dawn

#kairospy answers #ao3 #kairospy recs #aftg fic #aftg fic recs #all for the game #aftg #aftg andreil #andreil fanfic

[moth--knight]

Just saw this 20 Questions for Fic Writers and decided I wanted to do it so ....... here it is! Lmao.

How many works do you have on AO3?

46 !

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

274,246 ...... wrow

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So far?

Bayonetta!!!!!!!!!! (38 works lolsies)

Abbott Elementary (2 works)

Elden Ring (1 work)

Bloodborne (1 work)

Splatoon (1 work)

LoZ: Twilight Princess (1 work)

Yellowjackets (1 work)

Wicked (1 work)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

the world's the same, but something's changing (Yellowjackets, Adult Timeline AU)

In other words... (Bayonetta, BayoJeanne love confession post B1)

desert hearts (Bayonetta, BayoJeanne β3 pre-canon)

I'll see you back home (Bayonetta, BayoJeanne post B3 "fix it")

work day with the boss (Splatoon, Deep Cut + Marie bonding)

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

Yes! I think it is nice to acknowledge that people took the time+effort to leave a comment, and sometimes it can start really fun and interesting conversations. I write niche fics for a small fandom primarily, so I don't get enough comments for it to be overwhelming, and thus every comment feels even more special. Plus I have some really lovely and generous regular commenters!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh god. This is an impossible question to answer? I write a lot of angst. Maybe sadness hides in your smile, my post B1 AU where Bayonetta never regains any of her memories. Or night, I stand, the pre B1 AU where Cereza dies in the witch hunts and Jeanne goes mad with grief forcing Rosa to put her down like a mad dog. LOL.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

AHHHHHH. I don't know! The two most recent fics that have happy endings are christmas wrapping and my hair no longer bounds to my foot’s glee, nor plant I it from rose or myrtle tree.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah, not usually. I have gotten a few weird/mean spirited comments in the past, which I respond to and politely tell the person to fuck off and not leave comments like that (lolsies) and then delete. The pro of writing niche fics in a small fandom is I get very little interaction to start, so it is generally positive!

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

HA. Yes. I have no idea what "what kind" means though. The sexy kind? Hopefully?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've never written one, no. I find them hard to pull off and they rarely interest me.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of! I don't know why anyone would steal weird angst AU lesbian nonsense but hey. To each their own. (Please don't steal my fics)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I can recall, but I could be wrong. I think it would be cool if people wanted to though!

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

Just one, a smut fic with dubhgloinne. I would like to co-write more but I find it scary (and I worry I would be bad at collaborating).

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Bayonetta/Jeanne. Perhaps a bit obvious.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

THIS IS A MEAN QUESTION. I WILL FINISH ALL MY WIPS. I BELIEVE IN ALL MY FELLOW WRITERS, WHO WILL ALSO FINISH ALL OF THEIR WIPS.

(Post Bayo 3 AU where Jeanne and Viola survive together. It is a long fic idea that could take over a year to properly pull off. The planning draft is gathering dust as we speak.)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterization! Evocative emotion!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything else!

Kidding. Mostly. I struggle a lot with description, especially around setting.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think if you do not speak that second language then you should consult someone who does, with a few rare exceptions. It often comes off as clunky when you don't, and in some cases can be incredibly demeaning and disrespectful if you lean hard into stereotypes or limited cultural knowledge. I really admire people who can write in multiple languages!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I don't remember. Maybe Bleach? A YoruSoi fic? I was 12 and none of those fics exist anymore. Alas.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

IMPOSSIBLE QUESTION! But my favorite in terms of recent fics is easily severed, my Elden Ring Ranni focused fic, set before the events of the game.

AUGHHHH THIS WAS FUN AND COOL TO ANSWER >:) Tagging some of my friends @xilianx @dragon-in-the-tardis @modulatechaos if they wanna do this as well :)

#moth writes #tag game

[separatist-apologist]

Will you explain Ariana's origins though?

Fine. A little Separatist-Apologist lore.

Back in May of 2021, I (new to the fandom), decided I wanted to write an elucien fanfiction. I knew almost nothing about the fandom and at that point had read like, 3 total fics across the different Lucien/Elain ships just kind of getting a feel for things. I knew two things for certain- I wanted Vassa to be Elain's friend, and I wanted Lucien to have a reckoning with his family.

And so I started Call It What You Want To

I knew I wanted Elain to have a Day Court friend and I wanted a reason to keep Eris around in later chapters, and so I very lazily dreamt up Arina. Here she is, for the first time ever, on chapter 6:

She took a breath. She could figure it out. Elain was certain there was more to her than pretty dresses and dancing at parties. She stood, prepared to find Lucien and force him watch her try on clothes all day when a soft knock interrupted her plans. Elain opened the door and found Helion, utterly shirtless and in a white kilt embroidered with shimmering gold, looking down at her with a too-bright grin for how early it was. Next to him was perhaps the most beautiful woman Elain had ever seen. Her golden skin rivaled that of the domes she’d seen on the palace itself, though it somehow paled when Elain took in her long, shiny blonde hair falling in a glossy sheet to her waist. Her meadow green eyes were peering back at Elain with open, unabashed curiosity.

One of Helion’s lovers, Elain decided, soaking in the woman’s bright blue dress. The hem cut to her mid-thigh and the strap twisted over one flawless shoulder, making her tan seem more prominent, more beautiful.

“Elain, you’re awake,” Helion interrupted Elain’s obvious ogling.

Elain nodded, turning her attention back to the High Lord.

“I planned to give you a tour today, but I’ve been detained so I thought I’d leave you in the very capable hands of one of my best scholars, Arina. She’s going to show you around, answer any questions, and generally make you feel welcome.”

Arina nodded solemnly.

I don't think she has a terrible amount of depth in that fic, and her and Eris mostly happen outside the periphery of the story. Originally, Elain had two female friends and I scrapped the other because I was losing track of all my characters. So she stayed, which kept Eris coming back, which was important given he later kidnaps Elain. Back then there weren't all these Eris ships to choose from.

And I HATED Azriel back then. If you re-read my earliest works, I almost never include or mention him, and if I do he's a massive (silent) bastard. I don't know if Azris was even kicking around back then but part of the why arina/why not Azris is I don't like Azriel. Occasionally, in a modern AU or when Fitz writes him with Eris but in canon and in most other works, he is just not it for me.

I did write Neris, later on- No One Likes A Mad Woman but that was pretty short-lived for me.

Anyway, when I was working on I Know Places, I was lamenting how I missed her and wished I had done more with her, and someone sent an anon saying. she could come back. And that was all the encouragement I needed. She has been in every fic I've written in which Eris is featured (minus the aforementioned Neris), because I like her. And she's fairly popular with the people who consistently read what I write, AND for those of us who have been hanging out the whole time, it feels like a group project almost.

And I guess lastly, my OC's are decently popular and creating and utilizing her convinced me to work more on my own original writing.

#and i will keep writing her until i fade out of this fandom and into obscurity

[andy-the-8th]

I'm gonna go on a little bit of an off-ish topic rant about So Weird for a second and do my best to keep this mostly positive (this blog is about old DCOMs so I'm going to say this is still on-topic, feel free to filter the tag "so weird" if this is outside realms of interest). I will also offer the caveat that I only watched the first two seasons and only ever intend to do so

One thing I actually enjoyed about this series (besides the fact that it was willing to engage with actual grieving and long-term effects of that on family dynamics) is that it was super casual about showing physical platonic affection

The main characters are all kind of a big family (I pitched it to my friend as "the X Files but instead of feds it's a 90s alt rock sort-of-throuple dealing with their blended teenager sibling group's shenanigans"

For the record I use the term "throuple" mostly for humorous brevity - I don't read Molly as having any actual romantic or sexual subtext with the Bells, but I would say they all kind of co-parent together to some extent or another

Platonic affection isn't presented as an uncommon thing between parents and kids, or between siblings/pseudo-siblings, and is casually shown in the series (I think it was the first or second episode that had Clu sleeping on the bus's couch, head on his mom's lap with her just stroking his hair, and this character's like 17 or 18)

I would even say that if you had to pick a single character relationship that the series is About, it's Jack and Fi's sibling bond and navigating that through the lens of having different responses to their father's death (the Mulder/Scully dynamic they have is sort of a whimsical translation of that). I think there's a reason that perhaps the scariest moment in the series is where the Will o' the Wisp is threatening to turn their relationship against them to trap Jack's soul forever, and the way he's defeated is essentially because he doesn't understand the love they have for each other even (or especially) under the ways they conflict with each other

Just in general siblings/parents hugging or casually sitting cuddled together is pretty regular. Maybe the characters are supposed to be just super comfortable being close with each other from sharing enclosed space so much, as 6 mostly adult-sized people literally living on a tour bus together, but it's nice to see

Which leads me to the topic of Carey's relationship with Molly once he replaces Clu in season 2 - I have seen some fans want to read some sort of subtext in there but honestly I find that incredibly uncomfortable. If anything he's just kind of reaching out to a close adult family friend he can come to about his struggles/music aspirations/etc outside his biological parents, and yeah because he's a hot guy in his 20s it reads a little differently than the younger teens, but I don't personally see any plus into reading that as having some kind of romantic/sexual tension

like we see expressly in the flashback scenes that Molly has been kind of a third parent-figure (and I use that intentionally openly; locking parental roles into a strict binary of "the mom" and "the dad" isn't what we're about here) in his life growing up, so shipping or semi-shipping that is extremely unpleasant and strange in my opinion

Same with shipping Clu with either Jack or Fi, or (I have seen it and it's rather repulsive) Jack and Fi together, it feels like a fundamental misunderstanding of the character dynamic

going to comment on fandom in general though, I notice sibling incest ships tend to arise in situations where actors have a lot of chemistry, and writers are channeling that into their family dynamic but it means that love interests feel kind of flat by comparison - it's sort of another side of the same fandom-discourse dodecahedron which posits m/m ships get popular because male characters tend to be written with more dimension than female ones, which gives fans more to be interested in and read into and simply enjoy as narrative devices. You engage more easily with a story and its parts when there's simply more to work with

Shipping as a primary means to engage with media is a thing, I get that, so like do what you want, thought crime isn't a thing and characters aren't real people etc etc etc. However, reading a positive portrayal of (often interestingly non-traditional) family affection as somehow sexual I think fundamentally misses key points of the whole story. The fact that there aren't really any obviously shippable characters in the main cast isn't a bad thing

mumbled aside about the moderate amount of frustration I have with the other fandom I write for where for some reason people feel the need to pair up the entire cast in some combination or another but not going to get into that here

Anyway I am not trying to start fandom discourse in a microscopic old fandom like this; I more meant this to positively comment on how open the series is with letting family members show affection and to give my two cents to the void on the Carey & Molly subtext interpretations

#so weird #disney channel #don't mind me I'm expressing Opinions on the internet #probably will delete this #incest mention