Fanfic bind: the full spectrum of human emotion by @firenati0n
Roop is a joy and a delight so what a joy and a delight it was for ME to bring her fabulous The Proposal AU to life! This fic is so fucking charming and lovely so I really wanted to keep the, like, Romantic Novel™️ vibes going in the bind as much as I could. So I printed the floral design onto the bookcloth and just left an offset space for the vinyl titling—it doesn’t show up too well in the pics but it’s a GORGEOUS black glitter:
I had a ton of fun typesetting this one, too—there’s enough epistolary to keep things interesting without me having to create eight bazillion different font styles which is always a nice balance to strike.
I also decided to try something a little different for the bookmark! Rather than my usual ribbon bookmarks glued to the spine, I went for a magnetic bookmark instead. I’ve been playing with sublimation a lot lately (in my ongoing quest to side hustle my way into paying for top surgery… details on that tbc 👀) so I found a set of sublimation blank bookmarks and gave one the floral treatment.
Anyway if you haven’t read this fic, run don’t walk, it’s so fucking good!!!!!
Roop, my beloved who was literally just telling me in the DMs how much she hates picking favorites - I'm sure you picked these numbers completely at random.
17. Share your favorite opening line
Unfortunately, it’s probably going to have to be the opening of Hope, because nothing could possibly set up that fic quite like:
“Did you fuck the Prince of Wales?”
18. Share your favorite ending line
I think because of the entire motif leading up to it, the ending line that probably hits the hardest for me is from A Spark and Flash Paper:
And Henry—Henry wants to burn with him.
19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue
Okay I'm with you now, choosing favorites is fucking hard, so we're going with the first thing that came to mind, because that's gotta mean something, right. From Valour and Cowardice:
“I want you all the time,” Henry says fiercely. “Not just in secret. Not just behind closed doors or with thinly veiled excuses. Not just in stolen moments or when no one’s looking. I want you in the daylight. On my front bloody porch, without the whole world having something to say about it.”
“Well, if you’re having me on the front porch, the neighbors might have something to say about it—”
hello! :) THIS IS SO CUTE I CAN'T WAIT FOR A POSSIBLE CRICKET EXCLUSIVE!! because i am obsessed with u fr but that's common knowledge. <3
for the ficlet fest, if you'd like:
time stamp: 2:23am
location: brownstone
character: alex/henry
song: this is me trying by taylor swift (only if you want!!!!!!!)
rating: whatever you'd like
but like you can go any direction with this I'm just always projecting my adhd/anxiety/not good enough feelings onto alex on a regular basis :')
my ao3: firenati0n | Archive of Our Own (same as tumblr user)
THANK YOU SO MUCH! SENDING LOVE XOXO
your cricket exclusive is here! i actually went full on henry pov with this one bc my brain got stuck on the trying of it all. so have some first post-canon fight make up. this is actually the longest ficlet yet, but somehow i don't think that'll be a problem 😂 💜🦗
read the rest of the ficlets here!
❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙
2:32am, brownstone
The brownstone is quiet when he returns, which is completely reasonable for just after two-thirty in the bloody morning.
It’s also immaculate, which is decidedly less so, especially considering the state of the place when Henry stomped out a few hours ago.
The hallway is clear of trip hazards, shoes neatly in the rack. The kitchen gleams in the range hood light; counters clear and wiped down, small appliances lined up as precisely as Buckingham guards. Peeking his head in the for-once dark office reveals two tidy desks, chairs pushed in, and both of their laptops plugged in and charging.
The den at the base of the stairs makes Henry pause. The stacks of books have been put away. The coasters on the coffee table have been relieved of their burdens of half-drunk tea cups and abandoned coffee mugs. In the dim light from the street lamps through the window, Henry can even see vacuum lines in the carpet. A second glance has Henry taking cautious steps inside.
There is one thing out of place after all.
On the couch, propped on a few of the numerous throw pillows Pez insisted upon, and tucked into the quilt Ellen sent them, is Alex. Like an anchor to the ocean floor, Henry is drawn into the room, and to Alex’s side.
He kneels between the coffee table and the couch near Alex’s head and just looks for a long moment. Alex clearly hasn’t been sleeping well. The couch is too short, even for Alex’s shorter frame, so his legs are tucked uncomfortably. His curls are more of a wild mess than normal, like he’s been tugging at them. Alex is gripping the quilt as tightly as he normally clutches Henry, and there’s deep furrows on his forehead.
Henry should let him sleep, probably—neither of them have been sleeping all that well. Increased paparazzi presence as Alex’s first semester of law school starts and Henry takes a more active role in the shelter has been stressful. But Henry can’t help but reach out and try to smooth those lines on his forehead. Something churning and tense settles inside him when his gentle touch has Alex’s eyes blinking open, a small smile on his face when he recognizes Henry..
“You came back.”
“Of course I did, love.”
Alex exhales messily, blinking back tears now. “I wasn’t sure— After earlier—”
Henry shushes him with a hand on his cheek. “I will always come back to you. Promised I was done being an obtuse fuckin’ asshole, didn’t I?”
“You still left, though,” Alex says.
It’s Henry’s turn to fight back tears. “I could hear myself sounding more and more like Philip at his worst. It scared me. I didn’t want to subject you to that, to even inadvertently use my knowledge of you as a weapon. So I left before words I didn’t actually mean could find their mark.” He sways forward, resting his forehead on Alex’s, needing to be closer. “You deserve more than sharply aimed words, especially when you haven’t done a thing wrong.”
“Hen…”
“I’m sorry Alex. I shouldn’t have— I knew it would be different once the paparazzi got wind of our plans, but I wasn’t prepared for how much more invasive they would feel. I’m having a hard time adjusting to life beyond Kensington’s thick walls and I started to take it out on you.”
Alex’s hand pulls on his shoulder. “C’mere.”
Henry climbs onto the couch and sprawls undignified on top of Alex, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. Alex’s hands, as ever, hold him steady, rubbing large circles across his back.
“There were two people in our fight, Henry. You aren’t the only one struggling. Or taking it out on the person he loves.” He presses a kiss to Henry’s temple. “I could hear echoes of my parents, but couldn’t figure out how to stop the word vomit. And that scared me—I never want you and I to be like them.”
Henry pulls his head back to meet his gaze fiercely. “Never.”
Alex smiles at his vehement tone, but it's got a rueful edge to it. “We’re gonna have to figure out how to talk about this stuff before it blows up in our faces again.”
“Not tonight, though?”
“Nah, not tonight.”
They’re quiet for a long moment, curled around each other on the couch, when a niggling thought finds its way past Henry’s lips.
“Alex?”
“Hmm?”
“Why were you on the couch? Did you— Did you not want to be in our room?”
Alex holds him tighter. “I— You left and— So I was cleaning, and I did this room last, and when I was done there was no way stairs were happening, so I just collapsed here. I didn’t actually think I'd fall asleep, I don't usually when you aren’t right next to me.”
“So it wasn’t because you wanted space from me?”
“Fucking hell, baby. No, I never want space. I want the opposite of space from you. If I could figure out a way to crawl into your rib cage every night I would.”
“Oh.” The last bit of tension leaves Henry’s body at that and he relaxes fully on top of Alex.
“Yeah, oh.” Alex chuckles. “But, as nice as you feel on top of me, it’s late and this couch ain’t big enough for the two of us.”
“You fit on it better than I do,” Henry can’t help but tease.
“First of all, rude. Second of all, I also have to pee so get up before I shove you off.”
Reluctantly, Henry stands and reaches down to help Alex up after him. Henry folds the quilt and hangs it over the back of the couch, smoothing the last wrinkles with his hand. When he straightens up, Alex is only halfway up the stairwell.
how i'd love love love to dance with my father again
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/6tPvx1n
by firenati0n
Grief is funny that way—it occupies a corner of the heart, just another shade of love. It will always be there, a living, breathing thing. Life will go on, and the world will grow around it, but it will always be there. The space it takes up is deserved, because it holds so much love, so much heartache and joy and pain and love, and Henry is learning how to manage all the forms of grief that exist within him at the same time.
The world continues to turn. David still needs to go on a walk. Henry still needs to get out of bed. The grief will still be there.
But Henry will, too.
Or, Henry grieves, loves, and grows.
Words: 2443, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Arthur Fox, Alex Claremont-Diaz
Relationships: Arthur Fox & Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Additional Tags: POV Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Father-Son Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Depression, 5+1 Things, Non-Linear Narrative, Introspection, Canonical Character Death, Post-Canon, Five Stages of Grief, No on-page death, just henry's feelings during and after, and supportive kind bf alex at the end ofc, bc we all deserve tenderness, POV Alex Claremont-Diaz, at the end, there is light and hope, henry will be okay. i will be okay. you will be okay., canon typical grief and discussions of mental health and terminal illness, Food as a Metaphor for Love
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/6tPvx1n
answered here but i also like the opening of after hours
Henry’s on the precipice of an anxiety attack when he finally sees it–a small building up ahead with an old weathered sign that says “Diaz Automotive.”
honestly my opening lines weren't my best work this year!
18. Share your favorite ending line
oooh. maybe this one from baby, it's alright. i loved writing this fic. it hurt a lot and i cried the whole time and i cry every time i reread it but i love it a lot and it was cathartic to write.
When her cage explodes, she smiles. She is free, and her boy is alive, and he is loved.
unfortunately i am running dry on things to say about the tumblr au so please accept these crumbs in the form of my favorite chapter titles out of context
kiss cam meet cute??? my eyes are open please xoxo
a snippet for you!
The woman behind him points up and—oh. Alex and his date are indeed on the Kiss Cam.
“Gina.”
She doesn’t look up from where she’s busy scrolling through Instagram.
“Gina.”
“God, Alex, not now, there’s not even anything happening on the ice.”
Another glance up shows that the camera is still trained on them and Alex can hear awkward chuckles all around him and he knows his anxiety must be showing on his face where everyone can see and—
There’s a tap on his shoulder. It’s the guy who’s been sitting next to him the whole game with a sheepish smile and a furious blush on his face.
“I could, erm, kiss you. To get the cameras off. If you wanted.”
