#a language i've never wrote down all the way or even finished creating!

[unityrain24]

i have so much creativity in me and i cannot express it all and it's so frustrating

[shhh-secret-time]

I love love love your stuff! Can we get a jealousy smut fic?! I don't care with who I just want something tasty!

I was feeling super bad about my writing today, I really struggled with this one but when I went back and read what you wrote it made me feel a lot better. Thank you anon I really appreciate it. And thank you to everyone who voted on the poll! Warning: NSFW, Oral, Strong Language, Drinking Pairing: Kyle x M!Reader Note: I've never written for male reader before, but I want everyone who reads my things to feel included somehow. I didn't include anything crazy in this story because of it. So this one is more on the tamer side of things.

His head hurt. The ache started from the middle of his forehead and spread like a blanket over his skull. Naturally the cure would be going to a party late at night that his best friend drug him too. With medicine being some jungle juice in a red solo cup that said best friend shoved into his hand.

"Loosen up Kyle you look like you're about to explode." He almost didn't hear Stan over the sound of the music playing over them.

Each song had a heavy bass, like a heartbeat slamming into the side of his head and his chest. The kind of music that you could feel in your ribcage each time the beat dropped. So yeah, he really was about to explode. Whatever was in his cup wasn't helping either, the sugary drink was making his heart spike and his stomach churn.

"Stan, I didn't even want to fucking be here in the first place. I'm here for you." Kyle grumbles back once the song finishes, they have a few moments of silence before it picks back up.

"No, you're not. You and I both know if you really wanted to you would have left by now." Stan teases, shooting him a lazy smirk.

Kyle can feel his face burn, like the drink in his hand, it's a mixture of emotions. Rage and embarrassment swirled together with his headache creating the perfect concoction in the red head’s body. His grip on his cup tightens as his arms flex under the forest green flannel and faded Crimson Dawn shirt.

Every bit of him hated the fact that Stan was right, and even more that he knew the reason why Kyle was enduring this. This shit night, this shit drink, this shit music, this shit headache. Why he endured this shit party and all other parties he's been attending the last week.

You.

Dark green orbs travel over to the dance floor where you've been for the past few hours. He can't stop himself from watching the way your hips sway back and for, the way your jeans squeeze your sides in the most delicious way. Even in the dim light he can see how flushed your face looks from all the dancing you've been doing; his eyes lock on to the beads of sweat the travel down your neck and how it slides down your Adam's apple.

Kyle takes a drink of his alcohol, but it does nothing about how dry his mouth feel. His lips now glistening under lights coming off the cell phones that surround him. He barely registers the taste of the coke or the way the drink burns the back of his throat. Not when he can almost taste the drink that's on your lips.

Fuck he was thirsty.

"Earth to Kyle. Dude you're staring." Stan's fingers snapped him out of his trance.

Kyle looked over at Stan with his mouth open slightly. He raises a brow and scoffs, trying to clear his mind.

"You can go dance with him you know? You don't have to stand in this corner! Might have a little competition though." Stan says, gesturing over to you. "Looks like Bebe's all over him."

He was right, but that was nothing new. Bebe practically clinging to your arm, her body all but grinding against yours. Not that this was anything new, she was always around you. Whether it was walking to classes together or sitting at lunch with one another, she was always there. Anytime Kyle even thought about going up to you to talk to you, she was always fucking there. His fingers dipped into the plastic cup making it crack, the amber liquid spilling out onto his fingers.

"Fuck! Look I don't want to dance. I'm just gonna get another drink." Kyle grumbles pushing past his friend.

Jealousy was an ugly beast; one Kyle knew all too well. Insecurity was something he struggled with, ever since he was a kid and it only got worse when he got older. Getting smacked with a growth spurt that made him shoot up past his friends, while it was great for basketball, it drew too much attention as if his stupid curly red hair didn't do that already. He was wishing he brought his hat, why he ever let Stan talk him into things like this he never knew.

The path to the table with all the alcohol was mostly clear. A few people laying off to the side talking to one another or passed out. The smell of weed and alcohol in the air made Kyle scrunch up his nose as he threw the broken cup away. It wasn't hard to find a new one, they were scattered everywhere, now finding one that was abandoned with a drink already in it was a different story. As he scanned the table for a new cup another walking headache approached the table with him.

Eric Cartman, the bane of his existence and the biggest source of his insecurities. Although at this very moment, Bebe was giving him a run for his money. That didn't mean he wanted him to talk however, but like always his mouth worked faster than Kyle's legs.

"I don't know how to tell you this Kyle...but you look like a total shit bag right now. You...you are aware this is a party. You know that thing people go to when they want to have fun." Eric's voice was what sandpaper grinding against skin would sound like, Kyle was sure.

"Fuck off asshole, I really don't want to deal with you right now." Kyle sighs as he picks up a cup.

"Awh, and here I was about to throw you a lifeline. A little birdie told me you've been eye fucking Bebe's boy toy all day." Eric leans against the table pretending to inspect his nails, and his tone alone makes Kyle want to cave his face in.

Kyle grits his teeth trying to focus on the pour of whatever clear liquid he grabbed. "And would that birdie like me to smash his fucking teeth in?"

"You've been using that threat since we were kids. Come on Kyle don't pretend like you aren't at least a little curious as to what I've got to say. We both know how this will go. You're angry because you have sand in your vagina, and I'll tell you what I want because I don't respect you."

Kyle slams the bottle down with a loud thud and glares at him, his grip on the neck of the bottle is so tight he's white knuckling it. Eric holds his hands up in defense, a small bead of sweat trails down the side of his face.

"Believe it or not, I want to help! I've got a lot riding on this little bet with Craig, and I can't have you fucking me out of a hundred and fifty dollars."

"What makes you think I want your help, Cartman?!"

"You don't, but once again. One hundred. And. Fifty. Dollars." Eric holds up his index fingers as he slows his speaking down. "And you need the help, as funny as this is watching you suffer, I'm your friend and as your friend...you would want me to have a hundred and fifty dollars."

No, he really wouldn't. He would want Cartman to get hit by a bus, or at the very least to leave him alone. Kyle could feel himself boiling over at this point his hands were shaking, and his body felt like it was on fire. He was at his tipping point.

"Look I can get you an hour or so with him alone, all you have to do is grow a pair and talk to him. You can't talk to him because Bebe's always around him, right? Well, how do you think Wendy felt with you and Stan? And who brought them together?"

"Aliens."

"Aliens aren't real Kyle, quit making shit up. It was me." He's never seen Eric look or sound so offended before. "You can stand in your gay little corner drinking by yourself, or you can go talk to him and be gay with him in another corner."

As Kyle went to open his mouth to yell at him nothing came out, once again he couldn't find anything to say to him. Nothing that wouldn't be a string of swears or him finally connecting his fist to his smug face. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. At the very least he could blame the alcohol for this horrible idea.

Eric took the silence as a yes, with a wicked grin he put his hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Leave it to me Kyle. You'll know the signal when you see it."

He should stop him. He should stop Eric from doing whatever dumb shit he was going to do. But he doesn't, his heart is pounding so hard in his chest that the music seems like a lullaby.

Kyle watches as Eric walks right up to you and Bebe, he walks with such confidence. The confidence of someone who was not invited to this party but showed up anyway, because that's exactly the kind of person he was. The music makes it where he can't hear what he says to you but the look on your face goes from a relaxed smile to a horrified look.

That's when your eyes lock with his. Kyle nearly leaps from his skin as he watches you look between him and Eric. Eric has his hand on his hips and his fingers snapping up at your face.

"No... he isn't."

Eric shouts something, and Bebe steps in between the both of them. She puts her fingers in his face and glares up at him shouting something back. Eric bobs his head to the side swiveling it around like bobble head almost.

"He is. Oh, my fucking god." Kyle puts his face in his hands.

He's past the point of anger. He's beyond seeing red, it's just white. White noise and a ringing in his ear. The steady thumping of his heartbeat and the music is the only thing grounding him. To keep him from flying off the handle and probably making the situation worse.

His fingers tug at the flesh of his skin, pulling it down as he moves from his hands. Fuck it. He's had enough. Had enough of sitting on the sidelines and watching everyone else get to have your attention. The drink was left forgotten on the table behind him, he had gotten what he needed from it.

"A little liquid courage goes a long way." Stan used to say, and maybe he was right.

Kyle's across the room before he knows it, all that basketball playing finally paid off. He's able to dodge sweaty bodies still moving around on the dance floor. A man with a clear destination and nothing was going to stop him.

You don't have time to register the fact Kyle has you by the wrist or the fact that he's dragging you away from the dance floor. He tries to keep his grip gentle, he really does, but through this anger everything in his body has gone numb. You're not complaining about any pain, but he thinks he hears you say something about walking too fast.

Kyle drags you upstairs so he can talk to you without screaming matches or loud music. Without prying eyes or nosey party goers. But now that he's got you here, he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to approach this without blowing up. It's not your fault, you don't deserve this.

"What did Cartman say to you?" So, he settles with that, a question. At the very least he can direct all this anger towards Cartman.

You look down between the two of you, looking at the way he still has his larger hand wrapped around your wrist. It's funny, this whole situation. At first you were a little freaked out when Eric just came up and suddenly started yelling at you, but when you saw the look in Kyle's eyes it clicked.

The suspicion that Kyle Broflovski had a crush on you was always there. His gaze lingering a little longer than normal, the way he'd blush and turn his head away from you like he wasn't just admiring you from across the room. When he'd come to you asking for help in class you knew he was passing. All those times he nags at you for not wearing gloves in the Colorado cold, saying something about how you'll get sick and then he'll be forced to take care of you.

Yeah, he wasn't slick. And the poor man wore his heart on his sleeve. If he wasn't trying to sneak peeks at you, then he was shooting glares at Bebe. Oh, how little he knew. Now it all made sense why he shot those dirty looks. Why he was starting to avoid you when earlier in the year he seemed so eager to have lunch with you.

"If he said something that hurt your feelings, I swear I'll turn his spinal fluid into an option at the God damn McDonald's soda fountain." Kyle snarls through gritted teeth.

Oh?

You almost want to chuckle at his reaction, curling your index finger and pressing your lips to the side to stop it from slipping out. "Sorry I was just taken back by all of this. It's not like you to up and grab someone like this Kyle."

He blinks once, and then twice before realizing he's still got a firm grip on you. His face turns red, and he drops your hand like it's hot coal burning his palm.

"Sorry! I just needed to get you away from him, before he said something stupid!" His apology is so cute. The way he won't even look you in the eye. "He didn't say anything stupid, did he?"

"Oh, not much." You shrug and smirk when he lets out a little sigh of relief. "Just that I'm a homewrecker for trying to come in between you two."

"What?!"

"Yeah, something about how I'm stepping up on his man and then he started snapping. Which by the way, great choice in a partner. I didn't know you guys were a thing~." You knew damn well they weren't, not from the way Kyle looked like he was about to explode. Perhaps you were adding fuel to this already raging fire, but if you were honest with yourself. You liked this side of Kyle. The way his eyes darkened and the way his body tensed.

"That fat fucking bastard. I'm gonna kill him!" Just as Kyle was about to leave you in whatever room he dragged you into, you stepped between him and the door putting your arms out.

"Hold on! Just let Bebe handle it, she's got it under control. This is her party."

"She doesn't get to handle him! I'm going to take care of him! It's about time someone put him in his fucking place!"

"Kyle. It's Bebe's party. She can just kick him out and we can go back to having a good time." You place your hand on his chest, trying to guide him back to where he was standing.

He wants to, he really does. The feeling of your hand on his chest almost brings him out of his anger. But your words keep echoing in his head. Eric's stupid plan almost cost him everything, again. "You don't understand! He does this all the time! I'm tired of him getting in the way! She doesn’t get to take this from me to!"

No, he didn't mean that last part, it's not Bebe's fault. He knows that. It's not her fault he can't think straight around you. It's not her fault for wanting to be around you, he can't blame her for that. She probably just sees everything he sees. How wonderful you are, how you light up every room you walk in. How, even now, you're trying to keep the peace and save Cartman's life. Anyone else would have just let that man to die, but here you were Eric Cartman's guardian angel and he didn't even know.

"Bebe? She didn't do anything! What could she have taken!?"

"She's always around you!"

"You mean like you and Stan?"

"No! I mean- it's different! I'm not dating Stan!"

"I'm not dating Bebe!"

He blinks again and it's like he's been hit with cold water. The adrenaline in his veins dulls down to a small buzz. The headache in his head reminds him that it's still here and stronger than ever because of the yelling.

"What?" He asks in a softer tone.

"I'm not dating Bebe!" You yell back as you move your hands off his chest. You cross your arms over yours and give him the most bored look he's ever seen on a person. One that would give Tucker a run for his money.

"Then...why is she..."

"She's gay Kyle. You think you're the only one who gets roped into their friends’ stupid schemes?" You roll your eyes and smirk at him. "She's been trying to make this one chick in our science class jealous."

"Oh."

Fucking oh. That's all he can say. It takes everything in his power not to jump out of the window behind him and just leave town. He could change his name and skip a few states. Grow a beard and shave his head, you'd never see him again and he'd never have to answer for this moment. But his legs feel to heavy to move.

"Yep~! But...it's nice to know you and Eric aren't a thing." Your voice breaks him right out of his little pity party. "You can do so much better."

It takes him a second to realize that you've closed the gap. It's when he feels your fingertips trailing up his forearm, brushing against the veins popping out, that you're touching him. When you look up at him with heavy lidded eyes, he gulps. Trying to swallow that weird lump in his throat.

"If you're so worried that someone else will snatch me up, why not confess to me right now? Unless...I'm reading this whole situation wrong." You move your hands back just as they reach his shoulder blade, and his hand twitches by his side. "Then I can just go back downstairs and ask McCormick for a dance~"

Your back hits the wall as Kyle's resolve finally breaks. His lips crashing down on yours with such a force his teeth clack against yours. It's messy, consuming, and heated.

You can taste the jealousy on his lips.

When you kiss him back, his hands have your wrists pinned to the wall next to your head. Lips locked onto yours and moving against yours with such a frenzy. His teeth tug at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You respond by biting his back, pulling a moan from him.

Kyle's tongue pushes past your teeth and into your mouth. His tongue meets yours feverishly, twining around in a rushed dance. Your hips roll up against his, the same ones he couldn't take his eyes off of a minute ago. A minute ago, he was breaking his cup because of how jealous he was of Bebe, and now he's got his tongue down your throat pulling the sexiest moans out of your mouth. He devours every one of them until you break the kiss.

His brows furrow before he realizes you broke for air. Your chest heaving as you try to take in as much as you can. You’re rushing to get back to his lips and it almost brings a smile to his face. Kyle cups the side of your face letting his fingertips trace your jawline.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at Bebe like that. She's your friend and I should've just talked to you."

"Hm-mm~" You nod up at him still trying to recover from the small make out sesh.

"And... you’re right I should just confess that I really want to date you. That I've liked you for a while now. This isn't how I wanted to do it but...I'm not complaining." He whispers against your lips.

"You're so hot when you tell me I'm right." You press a kiss onto the corner of his lips. "Apology accepted handsome. Now do it right."

Kyle chuckles and brushes his nose across yours. The tip of his nose slides down the bridge of yours just as his lips over yours, dangerously close for another kiss. "Hey. You wanna go out with me so I can stop being jealous all the time."

"Hm..." You pretend to think about his question for a moment making him smirk. He tugs you against his body reminding you that you're trapped against him and the wall. It pulls a laugh right out of you, and you run your fingers through his hair. "Yeah handsome, I'd like that. Just like how I'd reaaaaally like it if you kept kissing me."

Kyle laughs and his lips find yours again. "You really think I'm handsome?"

"So handsome. You walked in with that green flannel and tight shirt, I wanted to rip it off you." You're able to get all of that out in-between kissing him, not willing to break the contact for too long.

"Fuck." Kyle's hands fall to your waist and squeezes it in return. "I wanted to take this slow. Do this right but you're making it so hard."

"I know I can feel it. It's poking me."

"That's not what I meant! Shit! I'm sorry I- oh fuck." He hisses when you roll your hips against him.

His cock is stained against his zipper, the tent in his pants is hard to miss. Nothing could have prepared him for the way you rolled yours against him. He could feel your erection sliding up against his thigh, the material of your jeans working against his.

"Want me to take care of that for you?" Kyle's head starts spinning when your hands slip under his shirt and your fingers slide down the front of his pants. Your palm pressed against the v that dips down.

The way your name comes out of his lips in a breathy whisper almost makes you pull his pants down right then and there. How can you expect him to answer you clearly when your lips are pressing the softest kisses down his throat. "I don't want you to feel like y-you have to."

"Kyle. I want this. I want you. Please don't make me beg for it." How can he say no? Not when your fingers are already playing with the button of his pants. Fingernails tapping against it, rubbing circles around the only thing separating your hands from his cock.

Kyle has no composure left; he's starting to feel his cock ache. He nods down at you and goes to pull his pants open. You watch him with a look of hunger in your eyes, watch as he slides his pants down and listen to the way his breath catches in his throat. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock springing out of his boxers, bobbing when his tip catches on the thin material.

"Hey Ky."

"H-hm?" He's not able to keep the shakiness out of his voice when you wrap your hands around his cock and sink to your knees.

"I want you to fuck my throat." His heart stops momentarily when you talk.

It returns twice as hard when you begin slowly pumping his dick, hammering against his chest each time your fist slides down and grips the base of his member. "Are you sure sweetheart?"

That's new. The way Kyle calls you that makes your heart pick up. He watches as you move to get comfortable on your knees, his eyes burning down at you. The height difference isn't so bad but it's just enough to where he has to bend down a bit to run his fingers through your hair.

"You really want me to beg for it." He does. He likes the thought of you begging for his cock, the thought of your mouth watering just to get a taste of him. So, he answers you with a little grip on your scalp, fingers wrapping around the locks of your hair.

"Oh~! Fuck! Please!" And he's right, the way you beg is so sweet. Kyle groans and tugs your head back causing you to arch up towards him. Forcing your head up towards him.

As your mouth parts to let out a pretty little moan, the head of his cock presses against your lips. The pre-cum the leaks out of the slit coats your lips, and then your tongue when you let it fall out. Kyle's dick twitches against your little kitten licks before he lets it glide into your mouth. He never could have imagined how amazing it feels to have your red swollen lips wrapped around his length.

Kyle reaches out and traces your lips with his fingers, your lustful gaze watching his every movement. A thick strand of saliva coating his fingers before he pushes his cock into your warm inviting throat. He rocks his hips against your mouth slowly at first. Each time he pulls out more saliva gathers at the base of his cock.

You try to take as much of Kyle as you can, the soft sounds of you gagging through the wet thrusts feels messy. It was sloppy and so incredibly hog. Watching the red head lose himself, the restraints he put on himself snapping with each long glide against your tongue. Not long after you hollow your cheeks and continue to suck him off, does he finally break. His hips snap forward thrusting into your mouth faster.

Kyle is so pretty. His lips parted slightly as he struggles to bite back the moans, you're pulling from him. The hand that's no longer tracing your lips is pressed against the wall, holding him up so his legs don't give out.

What has you weak in the knees isn't the way he's got his hands in your hair, pulling your mouth down the length of his cock. Holding it there for a moment only to slide you right back off. Or the way he's using your throat to chase his own high, his thighs flexing under the touch of your palm. It's the way he's kept eye contact with you this entire time, the way his eyes are watching every little thing you do. No matter how intense it all feels or gets, he can't break away.

You have him in this trance that only seems to break when he feels himself getting close. When he tries to pull away, he feels your hands grab at his thighs, a small moan pulled from him again when you dig your nails into his flesh.

"Fuuuck...Sh-shit I'm cumming!" How sweet of him to give you a warning. With a hum you shot him a wink.

That did it. The little gesture was too much for Kyle. A shiver that feels oh too good shoots down his spine as thick ropes of cum spill into your mouth. Kyle pulls out after some time, carefully holding the side of your face as you drink down the bitter climax.

You raise to your feet with a smile, as he takes his hand away to tuck himself back into his pants. Once he's finishes, he cups your face and pulls you back towards him.

"That was...you're incredible."

"I know. But it's nice to hear." You chuckle as he pressed another kiss into your temple. "Don't think I'm done with you yet handsome. Say you walk me home and we enjoy the night to ourselves."

"I think I'd like that. Wanna sneak out the back?" With a grin you take his hand and lead him out of the room. Kyle will never ever admit to Eric that his plan somehow magically worked. But when the time comes for Eric to collect that one fifty, Kyle will make sure he gets it. At least then its bragging rights.

[embracedthevoid]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Awww. Thank you for tagging me @toffeelemon! 🫶🏼

How many works do you have on Ao3?

52 works. There are a few orphaned ones floating around out there though.

What's your total Ao3 word count?

545,518

What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily Young Royals, but there are a few others like Stranger Things and Shadow & Bone

Top five fics by kudos

1. In Another Life 2. I hate the way I don't hate you 3. summer of love 4. Hotel Suites and Twisted Sheets 5. After the (visible) kiss -- Part of the Missing Moments series

Do you respond to comments?

YESSS! Always!!!! I'm so thankful to people who pause to comment on my fics. I wanna show how much I appreciate them.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Technically In Another Life was supposed to be a one shot where they didn't end up together at the end. But people convinced me to write them a happy ending. So probably that, haha.

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

Hmmmmm, probably In Another Life??? Maybe? Because like, no one else is hurt by wilmon being end game.

Do you get hate on fics?

I have gotten hate before. One time it was to the point where I just took the fic down cause people thought it was horribly OOC, and I mean, they were correct, lol. More recently, though, I've seen some rumblings around Hotel Suites and Twisted Sheets because of the character Adam. Some people have said there's potential for it to be romanticizing abusive relationships or a character "saving" another character from that type of situation. I don't see the story that way, but to each their own I suppose.

Do you write smut?

Oh so much of it.

Craziest crossover:

I've never actually written a crossover fic.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge! Thankfully.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Sadly no. I wish I was talented enough to speak more than one language so I could translate some of my fics.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! I have!

All time favourite ship?

Of course it's gotta be wilmon. But I'll always have a space in my heart from Joey and Pacey from Dawsons Creek, lol.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Dancing With Our Hands Tied. That poor fic. She'll never get finished.

What are your writing strengths?

Oooft. Uh, I think more recently I've been surprising myself with writing original characters. People seem to connect to them a lot. So for now I'll say that.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Remembering to slow down and set the scene. I always ALWAYS have to go back and add a bit more detail to create atmosphere and environment. And even then, it's usually very poorly done, lol.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don't mind ittt, but I do find it kinda cringe when it's strictly used during intimate scenes. If it feels natural for the character, then yes, fly at it. But idk, it gives me the ick in some fanfics.

First fandom you wrote in?

I think it might have been Once Upon a Time fanfic about Captain Swan.

Favourite fic you've written?

I think it's gotta be summer of love because it was the first fic I properly plotted out by myself (with some help from my betas), and motivated myself to write all the way through. Plus, with the time jumps, I'm constantly surprised at myself for being able to make it make sense.

I'm tagging @lollygirlpops and @lovelierbitsoflife 💜

[mistchievous]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Podficcers Apparently

Tagged by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels because she thinks she's funny. Spoiler alert, she is. <3

How many works do you have on ao3?

I have 111 atm which is such an amazing number. Look at the ones!

What's your total Ao3 word count?

80,874

What fandoms do you write podfic for?

Mostly 9-1-1, but I've dabbled in Lone Star. I also have a podfic each for both One Piece and BG3. Before I got to 9-1-1, I mainly podficced for The Magnificent Seven: 2016.

Top 5 Podfics Fics by Kudos:

[Podfic] come on, come on (turn a little faster) - My One Piece podfic leads the way! It was written by @kenbunshokus. <3

[Podfic] Leading with the Left - I'm sure you're all SHOCKED to see this one on here. @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels killed us all with this masterpiece.

[Podfic] I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) - @morganofthefairies gave us oblivious idiots, and I gave you all a podfic. <3

[Podfic] Love in the Time of TikTok - This one was written by @buckttommy, and the fact that it's so high is a testament to how fucking funny she can be.

[Podfic] To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals - It's @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels back to ruin our lives again.

Do you respond to comments?

I do! I fall behind sometimes, but I always catch up! 💃

What is the podfic fic you recorded wrote with the angstiest ending?

Pretty much everything I've ever podficced ends happily or with some sort of hopeful ending. I have to go with [Podfic] the nighttime fear (see it coming from the edge of the room) which was written by @extasiswings. It's a short introspective piece with no happy ending. I don't think there is another that ends unhappily for me to even consider, honestly.

What's the podfic fic you recorded wrote with the happiest ending?

LMAO! They're pretty much all end happily, as I just said.

Do you get hate on podfics fics?

No. Never.

Do you record write smut?

Oh yeah. I've recorded plenty. 😂

Craziest crossover?

I've only recorded one, and it wasn't crazy considering it was just a 9-1-1 and 9-1-1: Lone Star crossover. It was [Podfic] These Are My Stompin' Grounds written by @benjaminrussell.

Have you ever had a podfic fic stolen?

Idek how this would be possible.

Have you ever had a podfic fic translated?

Why did Mads tag me in this game? NOT ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS CAN BE ANSWERED, MADS.

Have you co-recorded co-written a podfic fic before?

I've had people guest star, and I've participated in one multivoice podfic.

All time favorite ship?

Are you fucking kidding me? How am I supposed to choose? Probably Buddie, even though that feels wrong because it's not even my current hyperfixation. I've never created as much for another ship though.

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh, I'm gonna finish all my shit. Don't you worry.

What are your podficcing writing strengths?

Fuck. Idk? I think I have good pacing and emote really well. And my editing has improved tremendously over the years.

What are your podficcing writing weaknesses?

I'm hypercritical and tend to overedit at times. To the point that it sounds unnatural. I'll also just shove entire projects to the side if I don't meet my own standards, so there are quite a few things haunting me from the WIP folder atm.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I've very rarely had to record in another language. Especially in the last few years. For my Mag7 podfics, there's a bit of Spanish and a small amount French, and they're kind of embarrassing for me to listen to. I've honestly considered taking them down, but I know there are people who enjoy them. So, I never do. There's a bit of Spanish in at least two of my early 9-1-1 podfics as well. I always try my best with it, but I only speak English, so I'm always super paranoid about fucking it up. I'll avoid recording entire fics just because there are other languages in them.

First fandom you podficced for wrote in?

The Magnificent Seven: 2016

Favorite podfic fic you've recorded written?

[Podfic] Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me written by @extasiswings and @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels is my fucking baby. I've listened to that fucking podfic so many times...

But my current favorite that I listen to regularly is [Podfic] nothing is safe written by @foxflowering which is my BG3 podfic. I have other BG3 projects in my WIP folder, but I'm so self-conscious about my ability to voice those characters that they're not coming out anytime soon. I was hyperfixated af on this ship for a while though and listened to this damn podfic on repeat. Also, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels guest starred in it, so it has a special place. <3

Tagging, with all the pressure because I refuse to suffer alone: @blackestglass @mayonnaisetoffees @brasscacti @rhea314

And then some writers, who this is actually meant for: @theyarnmaidstale @queerbuckleys @honestlydarkprincess @peridotglimmer @gayhoediaz

@homerforsure @princessfbi @sibylsleaves @rewritetheending @fleurdebeton

@hazel-athena @buckactuallys @kitkatpancakestack @buckttommy @kittykatthetacodemon

[cinematicnomad]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @zainclaw and @andavs 🥰🥰🥰

How many works do you have on ao3? 39 apparently

What's your total ao3 word count? 288,797 words

What fandoms do you write for? actively right now? nothing really lol. haven't published a fic since 2022. but i guess you could say 911 and teen wolf given some random WIPs in my drafts. also i randomly started jotting down some notes for a stranger things steve/eddie fic that will probably never be written.

Top five fics by kudos 01. take my hand (take my everything) (buddie) 02. taste your beating heart (sterek) 03. so show me (family) (buddie) 04. you never said a word (sterek) 05. be careful (my darling) (buddie)

Do you respond to comments? yes, always! i usually try to wait until i have a dozen or so, which can sometimes take a bit of time, but eventually i respond to it all.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? i have a sterek drabble called and i fell heavy into your arms (688 words) that is basically derek seeing stiles die and then immediately letting himself be killed

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? most of them?? not sure i can think of one specifically that was happier than the others.

Do you get hate on fics? ah, i almost said no, but then i remembered that for my fic taste your beating heart every now and then i'll get scott fans who think the fic should be tagged as "bad friend scott mccall" even though he's NOT a bad friend in the fic, it's just a nuanced view of their changing relationship. like, that fic is about 3 main things that include: stiles and derek getting together, solving the main mystery, and stiles and scott's friendship maturing to a place where they can love each other and still be brothers without thinking they need to be in the same pack!! like it's FUNDAMENTAL.

anyway, i had one reader who i think quit the fic halfway through bc i gently pushed back on their rage comment insulting derek and stiles for a fight that takes place with scott. the reader left an angry reply to my response, which they then deleted before i could even look at it, and then never commented on the fic again even though they'd been commenting on the fic since chapter 1.

Do you write smut? no not really. i don't know why i'm so bad at writing sex, but i am very bad at writing sex.

Craziest crossover i have no crossovers

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of??

Have you ever had a fic translated? yes, someone translated my mike/harvey suits fic trembling hands into russian all the way back in 2013.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? i have not!

All time favourite ship? to write? to read? no idea, so i refuse to answer.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i've got a sterek idea that's an AU of the netflix show virgin river. i had a pretty brief outline that i sketched out some, and even started writing a little, but it never went anywhere. i did create an AU gifset for it and every now and then when people start reblogging it i think about going back to try and write it.

What are your writing strengths? i think i'm good at realistic dialogue? but i don't know. i haven't written in a while so i'm not feeling super great about my writing at this very moment.

What are your writing weaknesses? i suck at setting a scene. and conveying a complex emotion. also i feel like i get v bogged down in what characters are physically doing or whatever and i try to describe it and it just detracts from the story over all. yikes ok i'm feeling worse about my writing than i thought lol

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? if the context is there to understand what's being said, great. otherwise, just adding context to the dialogue tag (he said in french, in german, etc) works. personally i'd prefer not to scroll back and forth between the fic and the notes to figure out what's being said.

First fandom you wrote in? harry potter. on the site quizilla back in the year of our lord 2005 lol. i started off writing like. a harry/oc fic lol where the protagonist was the classic american exchange student who had her own prophecy. truly mortifying!!

Favorite fic you've written? i have a soft spot for taste your beating heart bc it was the first long fic i ever completed and it took me 7 fucking years to write it. but i think my favorite is actually finding our way (back home) which i really think captured everything i was aiming to do. will i ever be able to do that again??? who fucking knows. probably not. on the more self-indulgent side, i really really love the margaret buckley character study i wrote called so far from who i was.

tagging!! @woodchoc-magnum, @crazyassmurdererwall, @tattooedsiren, @machtaholic, @catdadeddie, @tripleaxeldiaz, @valleydean, @thisapplepielife, and anyone else who wants to do this.

[thoroughlymodernminutia]

This Christmas

Pairing: Benny "Borracho" Magalon x Reader

Word Count: 4,755

Summary: Benny tries to create a Christmas Eve for you during a hard time in your life.

Warnings: Kind of fluffy, but talk of grief, guilt, parental loss. Some foul language. If I missed anything else let me know and I'll add it in.

A/N: This is the first fic I've finished in over 20+ years so...it's probably mediocre at best. A lot has changed in how fics were written in late 90s and I'm still trying to grasp that. Fair warning: I am not a good writer unless it's an email. Apologies in advance if my inability to understand sentence structure is obvious and if there are any typos.

I love stupid lifetime and hallmark Christmas movies, so there are probably hints of that in this. I chose Benny because he had like 4 lines in Den of Thieves and he seemed easy to work with. The story has some personal meaning to me, so if you hate it just keep it to yourself lol

I also want to give a shout out to @mariamariquinha @the-hinky-panda @cheesybadgers @mysoulisasunflower and @bullet-prooflove for the encouragement and kind words when I posted about my hesitation in sharing this.

----------------------

The guys are sitting in their chairs, staring at Benny like he has three heads. He’d just spent the last 20 minutes explaining why he needs their help in a few days; on Christmas Eve. He wouldn’t be embarrassing himself like some love struck fool if he had any other choice.

“This is sick, Borracho. Really sick.” Zapata shakes his head as he breaks the silence.

“Didn’t realize you were so fucking romantic.” Henderson joins in.

Big Nick slaps his hand on Benny’s back as he passes him to go back to his office, “Count me out, shithead.” 

Benny groans and hangs head. He really should have just figured out a way to do this himself. Now he’ll never hear the end of it from these miserable fucks. And calling him a “romantic;" these idiots wouldn’t know romance if it punched them in their faces. It’s not even like he’s that romantic. They’re acting like it’s a crime to be thoughtful. 

He can’t help it if being a good detective makes him more attentive, more considerate in relationships. He’s always finding himself filing away little things that you mention–or don’t mention. He has a collection of these in his mind, some even from before you started dating. And now he wants to use all these bits and pieces of information to try to create the perfect Christmas Eve for you. Christmas Eve because he knows you love it more than the actual day itself. But the guys' blank stares and biting little remarks are not inspiring confidence. Benny runs his hands over his face and rolls his chair closer to the desk.

“Forget I said anything.”

“Look at this sad, sack of shit.” Connors is laughing and throws a paper clip at Benny. “You’re going to owe us big time, you know that right?”

Benny breathes a sigh of relief. The guys are definitely going to haunt him with this for as long as he lives, but it will be worth it.

“I know.”

—-

This is Benny’s first real Christmas with you. Although he secretly counts the morning of the previous Christmas Eve when he stopped by your donut shop Glazy For You. He wasn’t working and had no reason to be in the neighborhood. But he wanted to see you without all the other guys there. If they were all there, he wouldn’t have been able to work up the nerve to ask you out. They’d harass both of you to no end. When he stood in front of your counter and asked, he’ll never forget how you laughed. You questioned him if it was a ploy for a group of cops to get free donuts. Then you were quiet for a moment and he almost started talking to fill the silence. But then he heard you say yeah okay and it was like he had been struck by lightning. You wrote your number down on a business card and handed it to him. Benny struggled to play it cool while he was leaving only to break down and text immediately from his car. He thought if he waited even one second longer you’d change your mind. 

The first date was the week between Christmas and the New Year. That week is like a brief interlude in your life where anything can happen. Benny remembers that he must have been on that night because you stared intently whenever he spoke. He also remembers how beautiful you looked when you were talking about your work. The way you lit up when talking about Maple Bars made him laugh. He’d never met someone so in love with one type of donut. He could swear at one point when you were talking about them he saw your eyes actually sparkle. There was a familiarity throughout the date that made Benny feel immediately comfortable. The first date turned into a second date, and then a third. At some point when he was loading the dishwasher at your house, he realized he had stopped counting.

You both tried to keep the relationship quiet whenever the guys had stopped by to cure their hangovers with donuts and coffee. He knows how obnoxious they can be and he didn’t want them ruining anything. Ultimately, Benny ruins it for himself when he breaks the cardinal rule of never smiling while texting. When Connors had grabbed his phone and started showing how he has your contact name as Maple Bar—he knew there was no chance of keeping you to himself anymore.

Benny was right, of course. The next time they went, they practically dragged him in while shouting “Maple Bar” at you. You laughed as your face turned red, trying to play it off, but the secret was out. After the novelty of the relationship wore off for the guys, they started calling you “Benny’s girl”. Whenever he heard, he felt like the pit of his stomach was going to drop out. Things between you and the guys stayed largely the same—you joked around with them before and you joke around with them now. The only thing that’s different is Benny feels protective of you even though he knows you’re fine. That was another thing he filed away—that you were the first woman to actually appreciate his bond with the guys. You know they have his back and that’s what’s important to you. It’s just one of the reasons Benny’s love for you grows.

—-

Near the end of the summer your dad passed away suddenly. Benny was at work, but when he got your text, he called you asking where you were. He knew your family dynamics were difficult and he didn’t want you to be alone. He thinks maybe a different sort of man would have been scared by the rawness of the situation. That it would have been too much, too soon. But Benny doesn’t scare easily, so he sat with you on the floor, in the kitchen of your closed shop. He kept you close to him while you cried and listened as you told him how you felt stupid for crying because your relationship with your dad wasn’t the best. His chest tightened when you told him you felt like you didn’t deserve to feel sad. That sadness was reserved for a relationship that had been whole. Benny anchored you to him, afraid that if he let go, you might drift away.

Benny knows you tried to hide being sad after that. You sneak off to the bathroom to cry periodically and one time he follows you. Benny knows about stuffing feelings down—it’s part of his job—but he doesn’t want you doing the same. He gets you talking, you tell him you have this guilt for not attending the funeral. You couldn’t bring yourself to be in a room with his wife of only a few years making everything about herself. Especially after she wouldn’t let you come to their house to look through his things. He didn’t judge you for making that decision; he knows what it’s like to have to make choices not knowing if you are making the right one. Still, Benny’s heart would break when you would  refer to yourself as a horrible person, a horrible daughter. He knows he wasn’t a witness to many things in your life, but he also knows you’re not a bad person. He’s seen how you always step up to help people—giving your money or your time. You even kept Connors fed while he was on leave due to an injury. You give to others what you seem unable to give to yourself and it makes Benny’s heart ache

You seem okay until Thanksgiving with his parents. It was your first time meeting his family and in Benny’s eyes, it was a success. His parents loved you right away. His mom loved the extra help in the kitchen. His sister delighted in telling you the secrets of his childhood. His dad was impressed you owned your own business. But as you both sat in the car outside the house you broke down crying. You kept apologizing while telling him how wonderful his family is; how being around them reminded you that you’d never have another holiday with your dad. You explained how Christmas was his favorite holiday. That he would spend hours stringing up lights around the house before making spritz cookies with you. You took some shallow breaths trying to calm yourself down before listing all the Christmas Eve traditions your family had. That those memories somehow always eclipse the shittier parts of your childhood. Benny held your hand while you spoke. He knows what it’s like to lose people, in his line of work it’s inevitable. But he doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a parent so he stays quiet. When Benny feels you squeeze his hand it sparks something in him. He suddenly becomes very determined to make this Christmas Eve perfect for you.

—-

When December 24th finally arrives, Benny feels as excited as he did when he was a kid. He knew you would be working which gives him time to decorate your house. The only person that backs out from helping is Big Nick—but he never actually agreed so Benny can’t really hold it against him. He puts Connors and Henderson on Christmas lights duty. Benny takes the inside, he knows the guys well enough to not trust them to go through your things. 

Benny finds all of your Christmas decorations and another string of lights in the hallways closet. When he’s grabbing a box labeled ornaments off the shelf a box, wrapped in silver and red striped paper falls to the floor. When he picks it up to place it back on the shelf he catches a glimpse of the white tag on it—To: Benny. He can’t help but smile when he closes the door. 

While he is untangling the lights, Zapata comes in with a tree. Benny looks at it and laughs. It’s so sparse and wide he can see through it. 

“It’s the only one they had.” He shrugs as he props it up against the wall. 

Benny touches one of the branches. “It is a tree, so I guess you did what I asked.”

Zapata shakes his head. “Man, this is a crazy, fucking thing you’re doing.” 

Benny smiles to himself thinking that love will make you do crazy, fucking things.

“I know.”

Zapata leaves and he can hear him shouting up to Connors and Henderson on the roof. Benny can hear them talking about him using their standard terms of endearment: dickless, crazy asshole, and idiot. Benny doesn’t care, because Benny has you. 

It only takes a handful of hours for the guys to put the lights up outside and for Benny to finish decorating inside. The tree doesn’t look as bad once he wraps some lights around it and puts your ornaments up. He’s charmed by the fact you kept all these ornaments from when you were a kid–one for every year until you turned 18. He got some frosted glass spray and tries his best to make your windows look wintery. Finally, Benny wraps your gift in some plaid wrapping paper he found. He surprises himself by the fact that it doesn’t look like complete garbage.

—-

Your car is conveniently having its brakes repaired so Benny told you he would pick you up once you closed for the evening. You’d come back to his place for dinner and a movie and then call it a night. But Benny is sending Connors to pick you up instead. Benny is going to need the extra time to do something he hasn’t done since he was a kid—make cookies.

There’s a reason why Benny hasn’t made cookies in decades. He’s lost when it comes to anything more than standard kitchen fare. Spaghetti, grilling, he can do that just fine. But baking might as well be nuclear science. He’s grateful your kitchen is 90% baking supplies, it saves him from having to fumble around a store looking for all of it.

You have so many recipe books he doesn’t know where to begin. He tries looking through them, but gives up and resorts to googling one on his phone. He thinks maybe it’s cheating to look up the recipe online, but how many variants of this could there be? Somewhere between the 1st and 10th recipe he looks at he finally notices the jump to recipe feature; saving him from the life stories of food bloggers. He settles on one that has minimal backstory, thinking that means it’s an easier.

By the time Benny is done he has what seems like 10 dozen cookies and has made a mess of your entire kitchen. He doesn’t know how he used almost every single dish you have to make one kind of cookie. He tries one of them and he can’t tell if they are supposed to taste like that or if he fucked something up. For Benny, the most pathetic part of the whole thing was that he had to call his mother. A grown, adult man Face Timing his mother because he couldn’t figure out how to work a cookie press. He didn’t realize it would be more complicated than cleaning a gun. He knows he’ll never live this down.

—-

You’re waiting outside of your shop for Benny when you see Connors’ car pull up. Your stomach tightens automatically when you see him step out of the car. Your mind goes to the worst, that something’s happened to Benny.

“Hey Murph, is everything okay?” 

“Borracho got called into work. Asked me to take you home.” 

Once you know Benny is okay your mind goes to how much you hate his nickname. It’s so totally unrepresentative of the man you know.

“Oh, he should have texted. I could have just taken an Uber or something.” 

“You can pay me if it makes you feel better.” 

You laugh as you double check the lock on your security gate. 

“I know how you drive. If you get me home in one piece, then we can discuss your fee.” 

As you get in the car you can hear Connors go on and on about how excellent of a driver he is. You roll your eyes as you put your seatbelt on. 

You’re thankful for the mostly quiet car ride to your house. Connors fills you in on why Benny had to go into work. For whatever reason he seems to be laying it on a little thick—a string of toy store robberies makes it sound like he just watched Home Alone 2. At any moment you feel like he is going to mention a woman covered in pigeons. You don’t think you’ve ever said ‘uh huh’ so much in your life. 

On the drive you see so many houses lit up with Christmas lights and decorations in yards that it starts to make you sad. Sad that you didn’t even get a tree. Sad that you won’t be able to spend your first real Christmas together, together. The Christmas Eve when he asked you out probably only counts in your mind. It still feels strange—the fact that he asked you out. From the first time he came in you developed a little crush. Initially, you didn’t know he was a cop. If you had, it might have stifled your growing crush a bit. You liked that he stood out in that pack of loud voices by not being one. The first time he spoke to you, you wondered how a man with a neck tattoo could have a voice as soft as his. And he was so handsome on that first date in his dark green flannel. You loved the gray speckled in his facial hair; it gave you the impression he was a serious kind of guy, not prone to playing games.

You sigh loud enough that Connors gives you a weird look and you try to pretend like it was yawn. You look back out to the houses and think maybe being alone tonight is better. You’ve been a real fucking downer lately and why ruin a perfectly good Christmas Eve for someone else.

—-

Connors stops at the bottom of a driveway belonging to a house that’s not yours. It looks like your house—a small, one-story, dark blue house with white trim, a small porch, and a window looking out to the street. But you know your house does not have Christmas lights. And this house masquerading as yours, is all lit up.

“This is not my house.”

“Yeah it is.” Connors points and you see Benny standing on the porch, illuminated by the lights. 

“You’re such an asshole.” You blink back the tears that are on the edge of falling. 

He laughs, “Yeah, I know.” 

You thank Connors before getting out of the car. You have a feeling he did more than just give you a ride home. When you step out of his car and close the door behind you, you stand for a moment staring at your house. You don’t think you've ever seen it look so beautiful. It looks like a painting with Benny standing there looking so beautiful too in his dark green flannel buttoned all the way to the top. 

“I knew something was up when Murph was reciting the plot to Home Alone 2 as your work emergency.” 

You give a sly smile as you walk up your porch steps. You can hear Connors’ car idling until Benny waves and he drives off.

“I knew I should’ve had Henderson pick you up.” 

You kiss Benny lightly and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“If I’d known you were breaking out the formal flannel, I would have dressed up.” 

Benny laughs as he takes one of your hands in his. He looks at you in your sugar and icing stained t-shirt and jeans. You look so pretty standing there he almost says what he’s been holding in for months, but stops himself.

“You look perfect.”

Benny squeezes your hand as he brings you into the house. 

—-

You’re overwhelmed when you see everything. You see the tree decorated with your ornaments. It’s so breathtaking, better than any tree you’ve ever seen in your life. But you know that even if it was just a branch tacked to your wall you’d feel the same way. Before you can turn around to tell Benny how much you love it, he’s next to you.

“It’s a little sparse, I know.“ 

You look at him looking at the tree.

“Benny,” you stop to choke down the sob that’s building in your throat, “it’s wonderful. This tree is perfect. It’s all perfect.” 

And everything is. The garland he’s hung around your house. The haphazard fake frostiness added to the windows. The cinnamon scented candles he’s lit all around your living room. It’s like being in a snow globe after everything has settled.

“A lot of sap in here! Looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”

You didn’t even catch that the television was on, but when you hear it, you know exactly what it is. You turn around and see that Benny has Christmas Vacation playing. That’s the thing that finally pushes you over the edge. This movie that you watched every Christmas Eve since you can remember. The movie that perfectly encapsulates what Christmas meant to you as a kid. The sadness you’ve been feeling and now suddenly the joy you’re experiencing because of Benny finally all bubbles to the surface.

You bury your face in his neck and start to cry for everything that you know you’ll miss but also for what you have right now. His body acts as a solid mass you can lock yourself to. Benny is kissing the top of your head and you’d be embarrassed if it was anyone else witnessing this. But with Benny you know he won’t judge you. He will give you exactly what you need, even when you don’t know you need it.

You pull back and look at him. He cups your face in his hands and brushes the tears from your face with his thumb.

“I miss him, Benny.” 

“You’re allowed to miss him.” 

When Benny says it, you feel like a weight has been lifted off of you. The weight of the self-inflicted punishment for mourning something that wasn’t perfect. You take a step back from him and look around the room again. You want to remember this moment as it is.

“This means everything to me. I hope you know that.”

“I have something else. Stay here.” 

Benny can feel his heart vibrating in his chest as he goes to the kitchen to grab a plate of cookies. He holds it behind his back until he’s in front of you. When you look down at the plate he sees you smile as you grab a wreath shaped cookie off the plate.

“You made these?”

Before he can answer you, you take a bite. He can see your face changing from excitement to what can only be described as delighted horror. Benny’s chest tightens knowing he messed something up.

“Uh….what’s wrong?”

“I think you mixed up the salt and sugar measurements.”

You see Benny’s face fall and you feel so bad that you finish the cookie in your hand and grab another one.

“Don’t eat it!” 

He quickly knocks the cookie out of your hand. You grab another one and he does the same thing. He drops the plate on the floor and it’s all so magically bizarre that you start laughing and can’t stop. You try to say something but you end up in a fit of giggles that makes Benny start laughing. 

“It’s happened to me before. Don’t worry about it.” You manage to wheeze the words out as you wipe the tears–happy tears–from your eyes.

Benny gets serious for a moment, “I just wanted this whole night to be perfect.”

You step over the pile of cookies on the floor and kiss him gently on the lips. He rests his hand on your low back and sighs into you. 

You whisper against his lips, “I can’t imagine anything more perfect than what you’ve done for me.”

Benny rests his forehead against yours, “I have one more thing for you. I didn’t bake it, so don’t worry.”

You smile, “I have something for you too.” 

You break out of his hold and go to the hallway closet. Benny crouches down and gathers the cookies that dropped on the floor back onto the plate. He can’t believe he used so much salt and didn’t even notice. As he’s placing the plate on your coffee table he sees you by the tree holding the wrapped box he spotted earlier. You pick up a thin box wrapped in plaid paper. You walk over to the couch and hand Benny his gift.

“Open yours first.” Benny nods to the gift wrapped in plaid paper that you’re holding as he sits down.

Benny watches you sit down as you carefully undo the ribbon and slide your finger underneath the tape. He’s never seen someone unwrap a gift so carefully and it makes him smile.

“Oh Benny, you remembered.” 

Benny watches you run your hand over the open box containing The Polar Express book set with the silver bell and cassette tape. He remembered the time the movie came on and you complained how it could never compare to the book illustrations and the William Hurt narration. You told him that you always listened to it as a family before you got too old to think it was cool. When you said it he saw the look on your face and he did what he always does; he filed it away.

“Guess who learned about Etsy this year?” 

The face Benny makes, causes you to laugh. The thought of him making an account and searching for this is a gift in and of itself.

“I would have paid to see that.” You look back at the book, “This is the best gift. Thank you.” 

You lean across the small gap between the two of you and kiss him. It’s deeper this time and you can feel the little moan that comes out of Benny’s mouth making you smile. The scratch of his facial hair on your face is a reminder to you that even though Benny seems tough on the outside he’s the exact opposite with you.

You shift back to your seat and nod at the gift Benny is turning over in his hands. He holds it still for a moment before opening it. He takes an opposite approach in unwrapping; ripping the ribbon off, and tearing through the paper. When he opens the box he’s surprised to see a watch that looks exactly like the one he had lost while he was out working on a case. This was right around the time you two had started dating and he wasn’t even aware you had ever paid attention to it. It was a watch he had worn forever—his favorite watch. And when he couldn’t find an exact replacement, he settled on a lesser watch, a watch that never quite measured up. But this, this was it. This was his watch.

“How did you—“

“You’re not the only Etsy user around here.” 

Benny laughs as he takes off the watch he’s wearing to put this one on. You had planned on finding it for his birthday, but it took longer than expected. You can’t even remember how many places you went searching for a watch you could only describe from memory. It was a gift that you bought to hopefully express your love to him when you were afraid to say the words out loud.

Benny grabs your hand and yanks you on top of him. His arm wraps around your waist, his brown eyes looking into you, trying to determine if it’s something he should say now or if he should wait. He knows he could have—should have—said it months ago. Now, there’s something now about the way you’re cradling his face with your hands. Or how your eyes are locked on his own, that is making him loopy.

“I love you..” he stammers to correct himself, “I’ve loved you.” 

He blurts it out like a criminal breaking down and confessing a crime. You’re both still and Benny’s worried he’s made a mistake. But then you run your hand over his hair and back down to his cheek–it makes Benny twitch. You kiss the crown of his head, the side of his nose, his jaw, and then his lips. 

“I love you too, Benny.”

Benny’s skin prickles when you say his name. He shifts so he’s more upright, holding you in his lap. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He buries his face in your chest and squeezes you against him. “I love you so much.” 

You’re thinking of how Benny’s hold on you feels like you’re finally home when something catches your eye through the window.

“I think it’s snowing?”

You climb off of Benny and you both turn to look out of the window. There’s a flurry of white flakes all around your front yard. Benny sees you staring slack jawed through the window and starts to laugh.

“Come on.” He stands up from the couch and tilts his head towards the front door. 

You get up and follow him outside onto your porch. You see a layer of snow covering the grass in your yard and don’t understand how it’s snowing in Los Angeles when it’s 70 degrees out. You stick your hand out and feel the crisp flakes land and melt into your palm.

“How?” You look at Benny and he’s smiling. He points to a man in the corner of your yard with some kind of machine and you finally realize where it’s coming from.

“Compliments of Big Nick!” The man yells it across the yard.

Benny can’t believe that shithead Nick came through. He knows he’ll be paying him back for the rest of his life. But when he looks at you watching the snow like it's some kind of Christmas miracle it doesn’t matter, Benny would pay him back ten lifetimes over. He feels the sting of tears in his eyes and pulls you to him resting his head on top of yours.

“Merry Christmas, Maple Bar.”

“Merry Christmas, Benny.”

[rangerzath]

Tagged @wondrouswendy Sorry for the slow reply but thank you for tagging me!

How many works do you have on AO3?

I currently have 17 works that include fics, podfics and comics!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

219,813

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'm deep in the Remedy camp with Control and Alan Wake. However, I've also written for World of Warcraft and SWTOR, though my SWTOR writing is not up on AO3.

4. Top five fics by kudos

Remind Me Of What Is Gone - Medivh/Khadgar, a World of Warcraft fic

Love is a Gift, Never To Be Squandered - Tess Greymane/Vanessa VanCleef, a World of Warcraft fic

No One Left to Love - FBI Alex Casey/Saga Anderson, an Alan Wake fic

Morning Routine - Zachariah Trench/Casper Darling, a Control (2019) fic

An Eye Opening Experience - Zachariah Trench/Casper Darling, a Control (2019) fic

5. Do you respond to comments?

Of course! I feel it's the least I can do for people taking the time out of their day to both read and leave a comment on my works!

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

Dreams Are Such Fragile Things. This story was written for my friend @wondrouswendy's birthday because she wanted angst. It shows a hidden scene after Trench and Darling broke up.

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

Love is a Gift, Never To Be Squandered. In this story Tess and Vanessa are together, but there are a lot of complications and past bias in the way. Communication can be a hard thing for some characters. In this stories ending everyone finally gets the have the conversation they should have had at the beginning.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've been fortunate enough to not experience this. NO one should experience this.

9. Do you write smut?

I wish. Alas I do not have the skill.

10. Craziest crossover?

I don't write crossovers however I do write stories that crossover/intersect with @wondrouswendy's fics.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Luckily I haven't. Again this should NOT happen to ANYONE.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of.

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

Yes, I've been fortunate enough to collaborate on several stories and now comics with my friend @wondrouswendy

14. All time favourite ship?

Trench/Darling forever

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

My Podfics. I've started several of them and unfortunately they take a lot of time and I have a lot of other works on my plate.

16. What are your writing strengths?

When I'm writing, I try to think about the characters with realistic expectations in mind. I dislike reading a story that ruins my immersion so I try to keep that in mind when I'm writing my own stories to avoid that.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing. I have a hard time translating my thoughts to tangible words. I have great fleshed out ideas and can even verbally describe them. However when I sit down to write it all out, everything becomes difficult.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Like all things there is a time and place for it.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Naruto I think?

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

You're Listening To America Overnight. The America Overnight concept from Control was one of my favorite things in game. I find it fascinating to think about how the FBC has a radio show to both find and report altered items and AWEs from the unsuspecting public. The world building of this immediately pulled me in and inspired me to write my own scripts of these shows as well as creating my own Control OC who is the host of my version of America Overnight.

Script writing is different than writing a full story. I hadn't attempted it before AO but I've been enjoying these bite sized stories that really make you think, did that really happened?

I know I'm late to this game and I think all my friends have already been tagged. So if you're seeing this and you haven't been, tag you're it.

[claire8216]

Fic Tag Game

Thanks @fandomscraziness22 for the tag!! 🩵

How many works do you have on AO3? 10! My page says 7 but I have some I've published anonymously.

What's your AO3 word count? 122,718

What fandoms do you write for? It's been a while since I've posted anything but when I do find the motivation to write it's usually Julie and the Phantoms, Outer Banks, or The Summer I Turned Pretty! I've written some for other fandoms too but that was a looong time ago haha.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (Not including the ones I'd like to remain anonymous 😉) - Fire Red and Ocean Blue (TSITP) - I Hate the Way I Don't Hate You (JatP) - Been Counting My Blessings Thinking This Through (OBX) - Something Like That (JatP) - I'm Standing in Your Line (I Do Hope You Have the Time) (JatP)

Do you respond to comments? I really try to respond to every comment, even if it takes me a while to respond! I genuinely appreciate people who take the time to not only read my writing but also share with me their thoughts, so the least I can do is respond back 😊

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oof in general I usually stick to happy endings so there hasn't been a ton of angsty endings! But I once wrote a fic exploring a character navigating the aftermath of the sudden death of his wife. It ends with him bonding with a woman in a bar who had also lost her husband, and they dance together and while it's nice to have some sort of companionship again, there's an unspoken agreement that nothing and no one would ever compare to their late spouses. (Based off the song Ghost of You by 5SOS, specifically the last line!) I don't usually write major character deaths, and I actually ended up taking that one down because it was too sad for me haha.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The rest of my fics pretty much all have HEAs because at my core that's what I enjoy most haha. But my favorite and probably fluffiest ending is Fire Red and Ocean Blue.

Do you get hate on fics? I don't remember ever getting any hate! *knock on wood*

Do you write smut? What kind? I do not, but I always enjoy reading a good smut fic!

Do you write crossovers? No, but I love AUs or fics based off of other books/shows/movies!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Also no haha.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? I've attempted to, a loooong time ago when I was first getting into fanfic. Nothing ever came of it though, we were both, like, 12 so it fizzled haha. I have no idea where that person is today but I hope they're doing well!!

What WIP would you like to finish, but doubt you ever will? Back when s1 of Outer Banks came out I started working on a Jiara one night stand fic and got about halfway done. I still think about it often, but too much has happened in s2 and 3 it just wouldn't make sense anymore and I'd basically have to start from scratch.

What's your all-time favorite ship? This is a tough one! My oldest and most beloved ships will always be Romione and Percabeth. But no ship has ever, and may never again, have me in a chokehold quite like Juke did during the height of my JatP hyperfixation. So one of those three! 😂

What are your writing strengths? Ooo I love a good theme or motif or analogy and bringing everything back around full circle. It makes my little perfectionist virgo brain very happy haha.

What are your writing weaknesses? Sometimes I'll rush through the little details just to get to the main plot points. I constantly have to remind myself to slow down, a sort of "stop and smell the roses" if you will, and set the scene or create unique little character details to make my fics more descriptive.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in a another language for a fic? If it's needed it's needed! I usually will copy/paste and look up the translation if I need to.

First fandom you wrote for? Glee haha. I used to be OBSESSED.

Favorite fic you've ever written? I feel like this answer changes depending on my mood haha. Right now I think it'd have to be Been Counting My Blessings Thinking This Through, but that could totally be recency bias haha. I am very proud of it though!

What fic would you want to rewrite someday? I wrote this PJO (Tratie) fic called Rivers about 10 years ago and to this day the idea behind it is probably one of my favorite ideas I've ever had for a fic. When I reread it now, I can't help but see the writing of a 15 year old girl who had no idea what she was talking about and was unable to execute it in the way I wanted to in my mind haha. I always tell myself I'm going to rewrite it, and maybe with the show coming out soon, it'll inspire me to!

This was so fun!! Tagging @story-courty @bex2313 and @writerownstory and anyone else who wants to participate!

[imtrashraccoon]

Thanks for the tag @snowcoffeee ! I'm all too happy to talk about my favourite hobby!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

At the moment, I have six.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

281,816. Yikes, I didn't even know this was a statistic until now.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Undertale right now.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Have Some Empathy, Dear - the series I did for Bad Sansuary.

The Hand We've Been Dealt - the first fic I posted on AO3.

Swarmed By Sirens - the most recent fic I'm working on.

The Nightmare of Apathy - my pet project.

Raccoon's Undertale Related Oneshots - this one shouldn't really count as it's just a collection of my works.

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

Every single one! I really enjoy engaging with the people who like my work and it gives me ideas.

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

Oof, I don't like angsty endings so I can't say that I have any. In the past, I wrote a oneshot with one of my OC's in Horrortale though. That was...angsty. It's also really bad compared to what I write now lol. I don't think I'll ever post it.

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

At the moment, Have Some Empathy, Dear is the only complete fic. So that one.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, at least I haven't yet. I did get one comment ages ago where someone was annoyed that Korinna (MC from The Hand We've Been Dealt) just went to live with the Fell brothers after they killed her when she was a human. She didn't know that it was them though, so the comment didn't make sense? Admittedly, the plot for that fic is a bit weak...

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

Nah, I've been tempted to, but I'm not comfortable making that sort of thing. I allow minors to follow me anyways, so if I did, that would have to change.

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

AU's don't count as a crossover I suppose. So, no, I don't write crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I'd be honoured if anyone wanted to!

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

Again, no. I have chatted with friends about fic plots but never for the purpose of creating something together. That could be fun!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I'm more of a self-shipper and pretty much always have been OC x Canon as well. I do like Soriel. The way some people write their dynamic is adorable and even if they aren't in a relationship, I love seeing their friendship. I don't really ship anything else though.

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

Pretty much everything with my old Undertale OC's and my old Star Wars OC. My reasons are that I've changed my interests and created better characters now. I'm not entirely opposed to ever posting these online but the state that they're in at the moment makes me cringe.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Definitely describing environments and worldbuilding. I have a strong imagination and so whenever I write a scene I try to put myself in the character's position and describe what they see. Worldbuilding is also enjoyable since it gets my brain working.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. I struggle to make characters sound natural at times and my earlier writing suffers lot from stiff dialogue.

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

I love this! I don't really know any other languages myself so my own attempts are limited, however I love seeing it in other people's works. I do like to include ASL where I can since it's a language I have some familiarity with.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars actually. I had a Jedi turned Sith character in a years long message board roleplay and multiple times I attempted to write down a backstory for her but I never finished. After being convinced to join the Sith, she was an Inquisitor for a bit before being promoted to Sith Lady and training a few apprentices. She briefly became Sith Empress but stepped down when the war with a faction of Mandalorians turned ugly. She hasn't been seen or heard from since... Yeah, no, I just lost interest in the character and SW in general with Disney's takeover.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I love pretty much all of them! I think my favourite is Have Some Empathy, Dear but I do wish I had more time to flesh parts of it out at the time. Otherwise, it's The Nightmare of Apathy.

[ilkkawhat]

20 fic questions

tagged by @frostysfrenzy and I'm hoping maybe this inspires me to write somehow:

How many works do you have on AO3? 287

What's your total AO3 word count? 827,685

What fandoms do you write for? Not published on ao3 but I used to write Doctor Who and Criminal Minds, on ao3 I got CSI and Macgyver (2016.) Unpublished, I've started a few Alan Wake fics and even started a Sorjonen fic.

Top 5 fics by kudos:

Speechless (Macgyver)

Stone Bridges (Macgyver)

Face Down (CSI)

Explosion + Krueger + Mac (Macgyver)

Trust + Together (Macgyver)

Do you respond to comments? I do my best to when I get them. I uh. have stopped for a while though but it's still a good feeling when I do see one on a fic

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? All of them lmao. Real talk there's a few break-up fics I've written so probably one of those. This one Nick Stokes/Julie Finlay fic came to mind cause it wasn't supposed to be angsty and I did it anyway.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Last Breath probably

Do you get any hate on fics? I've gotten feedback that like, I interpreted as "hate" but idk if it was every fully intended as hate and I'm just a sensitive person

Do you write smut? Yes. Can't guarantee it's good though cause I have 0 intimate experiences outside of a bad first kiss but I try to write it anyway lol

Craziest crossover? Wrote and subsequently deleted a fic once where Nick Stokes (CSI) and Jack Dalton (Macgyver) basically switched places and it was a bit sci-fi and out there and people didn't seem to like it so hence the deletion.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Really fucking hope not. Bad enough I've had gifs stolen.

Have you ever had a fic translated? I think somebody did actually after asking permission.

Have you ever co written a fic? I have! I wanna say with two co-authors in the doctor who fandom way back in the day. I'd also argue a lot of my CSI fics were co-written because so many people gave me so many ideas for them and the fic either wouldn't have existed or been wildly different without them

All time favourite ship? That's a tough one cause I think it depends on how strongly I feel at the time, like right now the OTP is Alan/Alice Wake but I multiship Alan like crazy lol. I'll never be over Doctor/Rose, Nick/Greg, Root/Shaw....those are the immediate ones that come to mind.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Probably all of them....I have so many open Mac and CSI WIPs and never say never but it's not looking good. I hope I can feel good enough to write for them again some day.

What are your writing strengths? I've been told emotions and descriptions and I would agree with that.

What are your writing weaknesses? Less about my writing and more about me; I put a lot of self worth into my writing so when I feel like I get negative feedback or no feedback at all it sends me down this terrible spiral where my self confidence is destroyed (which is 100% why Alan Wake hooked me in the way it did, because I relate to him sooooooo much) so I get highly discouraged very easily which is nobody's fault but my own....I am my own worst enemy. Also maybe my dialogue is not the best sometimes cause idk how to talk to people

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language? I'd try it! I think I have actually once or twice using google translate lol

First fandom you wrote in? CSI I think. Can't really/don't really want to remember before that.

Favourite fic you've written? Probably Specimen Stokes just cause it was such a wild and out there idea that people still ended up reading and enjoying (hopefully) though I worry it got too weird and cringe but I still love the feelings it gave me at the time of creating and the whole like, saga I wanted to make out of it. There are a few others but that was the first that came to mind.

breaking the tag chain but if anybody wants to also answer these feel free to say I tagged you 💜

[sticks-and-souls]

20 Questions for Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 5. Some of y'all write so fucking fast.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

19,583

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Basically just star wars, and within that, just The Clone Wars (but in my defense, that is a highly diverse universe). But I daydream around whatever media I'm consuming so if something sticks, I may write it (like Loki).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lmao, all five that I've written! But Battle Scars (star wars) and Moribund (loki) are basically tied in first place with each other.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Listen, I get really in my head about it. Like the answer is "yes" but also if it's been too long....then I feel like it's too late (RIP all comments for the 2nd chapter of Battle Scars). But comments are the BEST and I always appreciate it when an author responds to comments that I leave for them.

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

Ha! Moribund.

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

Off Duty?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, thank god. I don't know what I'd do.

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

Not....yet........

10. Do you write crossovers?

No but I have read some especially good ones.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of? Seems unlikely.

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

No, but I think it would be rad. If @mithrandirl ever wanders back to star wars I feel like we could create something great.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Spuffy. The older I get the less I believe in "there's only one perfect person for you" and I'm much less rigid about who I ship characters with. But Spuffy hit me before that time and even in rewatches of the series there is something so deeply intimate in the way Buffy and Spike understand each other, validate their strengths and weaknesses, and complement one another in the best way possible for the lives that they're living.

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

I don't have time for your naysaying! I will finish them all if I have to live to be 200 to do it!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Having my characters feel very true to character, I think? And dialogue maybe?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dude, I am so fucking slow at writing. My quality/speed relationship is a steep negative line.

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

Does it strengthen the writing, the story, or the characters?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Before I realized that formulating entire stories in your head, and revisiting them over and over again until they're memorized, even if you never actually write it down still counts as writing (to me), Artemis Fowl.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

That's been posted? Battle Scars, but let the record show that Wa(te)r Born holds a very special place in my heart. I am deeply proud of the writing that I did there despite it being only 500 words.

But ultimately, my unpublished foxiyo fic is where my heart lies. Hopefully someday soon I'll start posting.

This is my extreeeeemely late response to @mithrandirl 's tag. I'm sitting at home sick so I'm not up for writing (is my excuse and I'm sticking with it) but I AM up for talking about writing. Tagging @ladysongmaster, @ninjigma, @captainlaurence, and @grave-cupcake, but if you write things consider this an open tag <3

[pie-of-flames]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @beatlessideblog.

How many works do you have on ao3? This is so embarrassing. 241 Most of them are short! Some are vids!

What's your total ao3 word count?

375,343

What fandoms do you write for?

Just The Beatles right now.

Before I fell into the Beatles, I hadn't written anything in years. In olden times, the main fandoms I wrote in were MCU, Hawaii Five-0, Merlin and Torchwood.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Your New Twin-Sized Bed (Steve/Danny, Hawaii Five-0)

No Questions Asked (Steve/Danny, Hawaii Five-0)

Let My Doubts Go (Gwaine/Merlin, Merlin)

Sir Gwaine Wins a Match But Loses His Heart (Gwaine/Merlin, Merlin)

Hitting the Sweet Spot (Maria Hill/Natasha Romanoff, MCU)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, unless it's way after I posted, then sometimes I forget. I really appreciate comments and truly want to thank them. Also it just seems polite.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I kind of love angst. I love characters that are damaged. Quite a few times, I've written short little AUs exploring a character's potential dark side.

Somebody That I Used to Know - (Arthur/Merlin) I knew I'd written a modern AU where Merlin was an addict. But this is even more gut-wrenching than I remembered. Merlin has lived through the ages and Arthur has come back. And becomes Merlin's dealer.

Contingency Plans (Ianto, Torchwood) Ianto doesn't give up after Cyberwoman. He keeps trying to create Lisa 2.0.

The Way Things Are (Hawaii Five-0) Steve and Danny had a horrible, violent break up in which Steve was permanently injured and is now in a wheelchair. This is a little picture of the fallout.

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

Masquerade maybe (Merlin).

Do you get hate on fics?

No.

Do you write smut?

Definitely. I have 61 fics rated M or E.

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

Love Me Do (Jack Harkness/John Lennon, Torchwood/Beatles), A Very Curious Ring (Sherlock BBC/The Hobbit)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes. With my first fandom friend. Hubminster Manor, a Torchwood AU. Down and out lounge singer Jack Harkness comes into a surprise inheritance and soon needs a new butler. Enter Ianto. Sadly, never finished.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I have a fondness for all of my old OTPs but probably Steve/Bucky and Arthur/Merlin. I would still read fic for them.

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

None. There aren't any I want to finish now. The time has passed. l have a Beatles WIP I've been working on sporadically all year that I feel like I have to finish.

What are your writing strengths?

This a hard question because I'm not very confident. It's hard for me to see any strengths. Maybe description and character.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Being too brief. Using same sentence structure repeatedly. Probably still too much telling instead of showing. I'm not sure.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I would not attempt that.

First fandom you wrote for?

Torchwood

Favorite fic you've written?

Ummm... that's hard. I recently re-read this one and liked it a lot better than I remembered. Masquerade Arthur/Merlin, 1930's Hollywood AU. Aquamarine Arthur/Merlin modern swim team AU. An Inconvenient Moment, Sherlock/Watson, Sherlock Holmes (Ritchieverse), Coda (Don/Betty, Mad Men)

I'm tagging @veidelon, if you want to do it.

[festiveferret]

ferret! i love you and your works so much and i've been a fan for so long now and i just want to say that the post about reblogged about commenting and the tags you've put about your silent/lurker fans hit close to home and i'm just glad you're also appreciative of those who don't comment as much (or at all). which isn't to say that you're not because i've never thought that of you (you're beyond nice!) but just nice to know also! so thank you!! for being you and all your amazing works you share

Thank you so much! I love you too! I love all my dear lurkers. I adore all my comments and all my kudos, but I also love to imagine the silent reader out there, finishing something of mine, curled up sideways in bed with the only light in the room from their phone. It’s 2am and they have to work tomorrow but they just couldn’t put it down. And when they’re done, they turn off their phone and fall asleep with a smile on their face and I swear to god I feel that smile too. It’s like a little secret kudos that wafts its way across the universe and presses a little kiss to my cheek, so randomly during the day I just feel a little happier and I don’t know why. I hope no one ever feels bad for consuming my art without giving me anything in return. I put it there for you, so you could do that.

I write because I have writing deep in my core. I will always write. I wrote for 20 years for no one but myself. I have novels no one will ever read and that doesn’t make me sad. I love creating, regardless of the outcome. I share my work, now, because reading fanfic makes me happy, and I wouldn’t get that happiness if other people out there like me weren’t sharing for me to read. Maybe you don’t have the spoons, or the courage, or the English (not that I don’t LOVE getting comments in other languages!!), or the wakefulness, or the device, or the words, or the mobility to comment or to hit kudos, but that’s okay. Send me a nice thought, instead, and maybe you’ll be the extra snuggle from my dog, or when my yarn untangles too easily, or I nearly knock something off the counter but manage to catch it just in time, or my favourite song comes on the radio. Maybe you’ll be when the sun peeks out just as I step outside. Or maybe you’ll be the next 1k words that feels like it was effortlessly beamed into my head instead of pulled out with pliers.

I like knowing you guys are out there, because for me, posting fanfic is paying it forward, and if you’re well fed, then I know I’m doing what I set out to do, even if you only tell me in your heart. <3

[saintheartwing]

Undertale: Frost

Author's Note:

This was a story I had always intended to write, but never really found the time to. Now I've got more time to, having settled into my new job, working at a brand new hospital. With this story, I intend to be fairly historically accurate to the times the tale takes place in, and the cultures as well. I'll try hard to be respectful, and to be understanding, but I recognize I will make some mistakes. Don't hesitate to let me know what you think, and point out what you like and where I can improve. This story will be covering some very tough, hard subject matter, and I won't really shy away from it though I'll try to not create anything so dark it gets an M rating. Above all else, I want the story to FEEL real, and to feel like the people within actually, truly lived. If I can tell that story, and make you enjoy it, and make you perhaps think a little about the big issues within this story...I'll be happy.

Seriously, nothing makes a writer feel better than knowing people read their work. So please. Don't be afraid to comment or review. And so, without further ado, I give you my vision of the past. I give you...Frost.

————————————————-

The sun softly lilted over the quiet city of Lincoln, England, the skies above filled with soft, lilting clouds as a gentle zephyr blew through the hair of those walking into the cathedral. It was the tallest building in the world, towering higher even than the Great Pyramid of Giza, with a magnificent central spire reaching to the heavens above in the center of the large church, and smaller spires at the front, its big, huge double doors open and letting all inside.

Even the monsters.

They passed their way into the cathedral's south entrance under the "Bishop's Eye", an enormous, beautiful stained glass rose window, a companion piece to the "Dean Eye" on the north where people would be exiting. This was, of course, deliberate, for the South represented the Holy Spirit, whilst the North stood for the Devil. The Bishop gazed out at the south, to invite in, whilst the Dean gazed out to the North to shun. The Cathedral, therefore, looked upon both Heaven and Hell…metaphorically speaking. All were welcome inside, but when they left by the North, they'd be reminded to be wary of the guiles of the evil one.

And there…there she was. One of the biggest reasons people had decided that perhaps letting the monster race into the town of Lincoln wasn't such a bad idea. She was clad in her plain robes, but her white fur shone beautifully, her eyes closed as she sang for the assembled crowds making their way into the church. The backup choir behind her harmonized along with her powerful yet soft voice, a voice likes that of an angel that instantly drew your attention. Though she had little tiny nubs for horns atop her faintly goat-like skull, and her finger's nails were somewhat pointed, the cute, large feet, the little sweet pot belly you could see, and her voice, the VOICE! All of that was disarming. Even her eyes weren't scary, though red in color, they were very close to brown, and came off as more soothing than sinister as Toriel, proud member of Saint Mary's Cathedral, sang for the masses, as Father White watched in his own soft robes not far away from the pulpit.

As Toriel sang, her cross necklace glinted in the light filtering in through the stained glass windows of the cathedral, and people were practically hypnotized as the words lilted through the air. Her words brought to mind soft grass in a valley, of the wind blowing through flowers, with petals dancing on the wind. It made you think of warm rays of the sun that faintly kissed your skin, and a tenderness that was rare to find on Earth.

"She's one of the good ones, without a doubt." Said Tobias's father as the young lad with the cute smile and rosy cheeks quietly watched her, blushing a bit more as he gazed at her face.

"She's, um…quite a lovely singer, yes." He finally murmured out.

"If only ALL the monsters had as fine a voice as this "Baphomine"." Tobias's father James commented with a sigh as he put his arm around his wife Marietta. Quite a few of the inhabitants in the church nodded at this quietly murmured remark, though Tobias flinched at this, and it comforted him to see quite a few people turning to give James a rather irritated and angry look. "Remember, Tobias. In the service of the lord, even beings as lowly and wretched as monsters can be made almost human. Truly, the church's mercy is a thing to admire that even such beasts can be admired in some way."

"Well…beasts can't talk…" Tobias muttered. "I've not ever heard a dog or cow or frog speak."

"Oh, they can imitate our language much like they imitate our songs, but I doubt they really understand it. Much like how a…PARROT can imitate human speech but not comprehend it. They're merely following our lead, my son." James reasoned. Tobias held his tongue, though for a brief, dark, horrible moment, he imagined kicking his father in the shins.

At last, Toriel had finished her song and bowed, as people clapped in the aisles, and Father White moved forward, nodding his head at Toriel, taking the young, teenage monster's hands in his. "Bless you, Toriel. Bless your heart. And bless all of thee for coming. The Lord be With You."

"And also with you." The masses repeated back.

"We profess our belief in the Lord, Jesus. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, so that whomever believed in him should have eternal life. This is the Gospel of the Lord."

"Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ."

Father White's thick black hair fell about his face as he his slightly scraggly-bearded face looked out among the throng. His blue eyes flitted very briefly over to Toriel before he spoke, loudly and firmly. "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees! Hypocrites! For thou are like whited sepulchers, beautiful upon the outside, yet inwardly rotten, full of dead men's bones and all uncleanliness. Though thou appear outwardly righteous, within thee is hypocrisy and iniquity! The Gospel of Matthew, one of my absolute most favorite parts of all the New Testament. Every one of thee should know it. Matthew, one of the 12 Apostles, wrote this fine Gospel primarily for a specific audience. Do any here know who they were? Come, please. Raise thy hands. This is a safe place for all who want to believe, and you won't be judged or mocked if you get it wrong."

Tobias slowly raised a hand up, before anyone else, and when Father White pointed at him, he spoke as clearly as he could, Toriel's eyes looking right into his own. "Was the gospel written for the Jews, Father White?"

"Yes. Matthew makes mention of more Old Testament sections than any other gospel, and he saw Jesus as King of the Jews, who fulfills the prophecies within the Old Testament. He wanted Jewish people to be able to welcome Him into their hearts, and to convince them with that which they themselves held dear, the holy words and prophecies and lessons they took to heart. By showing them this, and the miracles Jesus performed, Matthew hoped they would welcome Jesus. Let us pray upon this."

He bowed his head, the people in the Cathedral following suit as Toriel bowed her own head. Come about 45 minutes later, the service was over, and she was nodding as people left the Cathedral…before quickly rushing over to one particular person. Or rather, one particular monster.

"Careful!" She quickly ushered the burning, constantly-on-fire Pyrope away from a tapestry just in time. Phew. Now the depiction of Christ on the cross wouldn't go up in flames! The big, coal-like, large-mouthed monster's head hopped up and down on the coiled, rope-like chest, stomach and lower body of his frame, wearing fancy sandals as the fiery hair he had slightly flared up before it cooled down at the sight of her worried face.

"My apologies." Percival Pyrope remarked, the burning fire upon his round, black, eyeless face turning into a very thin layer of fire, his "normal" state when he wasn't excited. The Pyrope and monsters much like him who could accidentally damage the church had to sit rather separated from the throngs of humans. Didn't want them burning down the church!

"Its alright, really. You've been VERY well behaved, thank you so kindly." Toriel said warmly, bowing at Percival Pyrope as he left the church and Toriel, in turn, walked over to Father White as he looked over a big copy of the Bible at his podium. "You were very, very considerate to use Matthew in today's sermon." She said, as Father Michael took her hands again and shook them.

"Anytime, Toriel. You are as a shining light in our church, and welcome here anytime you desire. You'll never be turned away from here." Father White insisted kindly as he briefly peered over Toriel's shoulder, taking notice of the fact that…yes. There he was. Little Toby had stayed behind and was nervously rocking back and forth on his feet. "May I help you, Toby?"

"Um…may I have confession, sir?"

"Of course. Come this way." Father White led Tobias off across the church and towards the booth used for confession as Toriel, in turn, made her way out of the church and towards the local inn to get lunch.

Though many of the townsfolk smiled a little at her, or bowed their heads, others quietly shuffled out of her way, a few muttering nervously, looking a bit pale as she entered the inn and sat down at a table, the innkeeper sending a server over to her as several people she'd not seen in town before glanced in her direction.

"…oh. Those. Let's…not stay. I'm not hungry at the moment." One of the men grumbled as his friends nodded, the bartender sighing a bit as he watched them leave, Toriel quickly digging into her robes pockets.

"Here, I'll pay a little extra to make up for your lost business."

"A pleasure doing business with you, then!" The innkeeper remarked with a big grin as he nodded at the server. "Hannah, give Ms. Choir Girl anything she'd like!"

"Not a problem at all…" Hannah said with a nod as she stood by Toriel. "So what do you want?"

"I'll have the usual." Toriel remarked as Hannah nodded, going off to get Toriel her salted meat dish she so adored, combined with a nice local ale as Toriel, in turn, took something else out of her pocket…silver shine polish for her cross necklace, a creation of her own design she'd made by herself. In fact, she made quite a bit of good money selling her artistic creations, and used a bit of the proceeds to help the church. It was only fair, she felt, given how they'd let her join, the first monster in Saint Mary's-

Toriel sniffed at the air, turning. Oh. A man behind her was looking over a pie that had been served to him and he tilted his head to the side as he examined it. "I wouldn't eat that if I were you, sir." Toriel spoke up softly as the man glanced up at her, then at the pie. "It smells…" She sniffed at the air. "Yes, I think whomever baked it didn't quite use proper butter."

"You can tell from smell?" The man asked. He HAD looked irritated looking at her but now his expression was one of wonder. "I had no idea. Is it because you Baphomine part goat?"

Toriel inwardly flinched, but she said nothing outwardly and shook her head. "No, no, my kind aren't part goat, we just resemble them somewhat. Much like how a statue only resembles a living being, but isn't truly one. And, uh…we'd prefer being called "púca", good sir."

"Pooka? That's…Irish, isn't it?" The man inquired, wearing a thick robe that looked quite fancy and having a short moustache and beard. He looked very nondescript otherwise as he sniffed the pie. "Well, I'll take your word for it. Thank you very much, Miss…um…your name?"

"Toriel."

"Do you have a second name?"

"Oh, no, we monsters don't always have that either."

"I'm learning so many things about your kind! My name's Hugh, by the way." He said with a small smile as, at last, Toriel's own meal arrived. "Please, sit with me. I'd like to know more about you and your kind. I don't mean to impose, but I've heard so much, and I'd like to come away from this knowing you and your ilk better."

Toriel nodded, and she moved her meal to his little table, sitting across from him. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and probably wouldn't be the last, but she didn't mind, not really. If it meant a better understanding of her people and of her, then this was fine. It reminded her of a story that Father White had said, of somebody seeing someone on the beach, picking up starfish and tossing them into the sea. The second person had admonished this starfish saver. "Look, there's hundreds of these, you'll never save them all. You can't think you're making a difference." But the other man had simply smiled, picked up another starfish, and tossed them off into the ocean, saying "It made a difference to THAT one."

Toriel would be that Good Samaritan. And Mr. Hugh would be yet another starfish. As she began to speak about her kind, she felt something almost familiar in him. Almost-

Ah. Now she realized. His hair. It was rather like that of her friend off in Wales. She wondered how he was doing.

As it were, winter was soon to settle in Wales, and the first quilting of clouds passed its way towards the ramparts of the castle on the hill. The sun's rays were being slowly but surely obscured by the greying blanket that was making its way over the inhabitants of the castle as the guard nonchalantly sat on its ramparts, keeping their eyes peeled. They had their weapons close at hand, ready to snatch up at a moments notice, bows had fresh drawstrings put in them, the spears had been finely shined and armor a-glinted in the few remaining rays of light that burst through the clouds above. A light wind ruffled through their hair as they looked about at each other, ready to make their move. The only question was…who would break first? Their opponent was crafty and calculating and-

"HA."

Lord Llywelyn Ap Iorwerth was smirking in delight, and he picked up the winnings from the men, shaking them about in one hand and looking supremely smug. His moustache quivered in that way it did whenever he was especially pleased with himself, his cloaked frame rising up as he put the winnings from the dice roll in his bag and shook it about in the air, his thick Welsh accent audible for all the men gathered about to hear. "Hear that, me lads? THAT'S the sound of success."

"Just wait." One of the men grumbled as his buddy scratched the bald patch in the midst of the spiky hair on either side of his head. "We'll get our money back soon enough. Another round!" He insisted, shaking his fist defiantly at their lord as his ponytail flopped off the side of his shoulder, his bowman friend adjusting the bag of arrows he had slung around his back. "How about it?" He asked as he turned to another pal.

"…I dunno, Arthus." The somewhat shorter, tubbier spearman shook his head as he plucked a bit at the stringed lute as had in his lap at the moment, humming a bit, his rather large chin slightly bouncing as he hummed a few bars, playing some more of the lute. "I think I want to cut my losses." He said, the slight wind in the air a-ruffling his somewhat poofy hair.

"Dylann is right. Ol' Bowen's up for anything…but not a second pounding at the dice." Bowen the Bowman said in his oddly low voice as he sighed and hung his head, shaking it back and forth. Sitting not far away two knights glanced at each other briefly as they stood on opposite sides of Lord Llywelyn, one with a half-visor esque helm who's lower half was slightly dotted with little holes, chainmail on his arms and legs as he hung his own head in dice defeat. His comrade, who wore a helm that was smooth and square-like and with a slightly jutting-out front with plate armor on his arms, but not his legs shook his head too.

"Gawain and I aren't interested in losing again."

"Iolo, come now!" proclaimed Arthus, looking rather mortified. "That's two week's pay you've lost!"

"And I don't want to lose another two weeks." The plate-mail having knight commented. "My dear "Artie"…one must know when to cut one's losses."

"Perhaps Elisud wants in?" Arthus asked as he and the others turned to the young lad who was looking out over the ramparts, who hadn't joined in the fun at all. Elisud, though being the youngest there at age 16, looked far older than he really was. He was already showing the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow with the faintest sign he was going to have quite the beard/moustache combination. He also had a bit of a receding hairline, his hair wafting about in the wind somewhat as he looked across the long stretches of grass to the east.

Elisud turned to look back at them, a slightly surprised…even annoyed…expression on his face. "Um…well, it is just…I mean, I've been told gambling is a sin, good sirs, and I don't want to sin. I AM going to be a Friar."

"Exactly. A Friar. You Franciscans have to take vows of chastity, poverty and obedience. Nothin' in there that says you can't GAMBLE, that ain't one of the 10 Commandments!" Arthus laughed.

"Besides, if you're concerned about the money…just give it back to these fine gentlemen. You can call that "charity"." Lord Llywelyn said with a smile at Elisud as he rubbed the back of his neck. Elisud had been training to be a self-taught Friar for weeks now, he'd read book after book about what it took and he wanted to establish a Franciscan monastery in Wales, there weren't ANY in the entire land and he wanted to be the first.

"Well…okay." He said at last before glancing back across the grass. "But are you absolutely sure we don't need to worry about them?" He wanted to know as he looked back over the long stretches of green at the distinctly white-skinned, odd mixture of ugly and cute that was sitting about 100 yards away from them. He'd been watching that froglike creature for a good ten minutes, and he'd been most unsettled at how it was just STARING at them all.

Froggits, they were called. They looked much like their namesakes, but there was…SOMETHING underneath their little bodies that peered out, some kind of bug of some kind that people suspected allowed the frog-like top to call forth flies to buzz forth and attack the monster's target. The fact that they were only about a foot tall made them a bit more worrisome to deal with than a normal frog, but still…

A frog monster with big stupid eyes that could summon a couple flies or so to buzz at you wasn't too intimidating. At least, the men clearly didn't think so as Dylann plucked at his lute some more and began to play a tune, the men sniggering all around.

"Elisud, it's a damn froggit. They're not scary!" Bowen said as he tapped his foot along to Dylann's tune, the others beginning to hum along as their Lord strolled over to Elisud to look over at the froglike creatures as well. "I mean, a good, hard shot from an arrow will send them scampering away."

"You could kick one into oblivion." Said Sir Iolo as Gawain nodded his agreement. "They're not as dangerous as the Melusine or the Baphomine race."

"Their magical skill's pathetic." Arthus commented. "All they do is summon flies."

Elisud glanced about. "…do any of you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Dylann asked as he stopped fooling with the lute, tilting his head to the side.

"Sort of a…buzzing noise?" Elisud murmured, looking over at the froggits, eyes a little narrowed. "Are they trying to summon their flies?"

"I don't see any over there." The lord remarked as he gazed upon the froggits as well, tilting his head somewhat.

"Really, don't worry, Elisud! The foolish froggits may have numbers but that is all they have. Should any attempt to get within reach of the castle, we shall let loose our arrows on them and they shall perish from the onslaught." Sir Gawain offered to Elisud. "Now come, come!" Gawain rose up too and clasped Elisud on the back. "Try a liiiiittle bit of gambling. You've got a good month to go before you leave us and get started on building the monastery. You can live a little."

"And it's of course an honor to build it with your permission…and money, Lord Llywelyn." Elisud added with a bow. "But if thee don't mind my asking, why did your wife want to help me set it up?"

"I suspect that papal decree from Pope Honorius III has gotten her very grateful towards the Church." Lord Llewelyn mused aloud. "Who am I to deny her? Now come, come! You want to win this gold, don't you?" He asked, shaking the bag about, making it jingle with its many coins. Elisud smiled warmly and sat down on the ramparts as his lord did the same, and Sir Gawain and Iolo began to hum merrily, Dylann beginning to sing as he so often did whilst Bowen and Arthus got out their own respective instruments from nearby bags, a flute and a viol, playing along with Dylann as he closed his eyes and sang joyously.

The song wafted through the air as Elisud and Lord Llywelyn rolled their dice, eager to keep the fun going as the minutes went on, the singing making the group practically glow with a kind of warm, soft light that brought a smile to Elisud's face. Still, even though he was enjoying their singing immensely, he couldn't bring himself to join in, whenever he tried to open his mouth to join in the revelry, he felt himself choke up, his neck tightening.

"If only I had a bit more bravery in me." He sighed sadly. Still, he didn't mind. It was just…nice…to enjoy his time with his wonderful, wonderful comrades here, and nice to have such a good, sweet lord.

"Alas. Snake eyes." His lord sighed as he hung his head, Elisud cheerily holding up the bag of gold he'd just gotten.

"Winning!" He giggled as he held the top open and, one after the other, poured out the winnings for everyone else to take hold of in their palms. "Here you are everyone. My sincerest compliments." He remarked before an idea came to him and he made his way towards the eastern rampart's wall, holding up the still-remaining coins in one hand. "Hello? Froggits?"

The frog monsters ALL turned to look directly in his direction.

"Look, if I were to give thee some coins, would thoust please leave?" Elisud inquired, the rest of his group looking a bit stunned by this, whilst his Lord sighed somewhat. The froggits glanced about at each other, and then "harrumphed".

"Mayhaps they don't have anywhere to put it. Ah well." Lord Llywelyn said with a shrug. "Not everyone welcomes the virtue of charity." He remarked as Elisud walked over to him, giving HIM the last bit of gold he had left, a look of surprise popping on the ruler of Wales's face.

"You didn't have to give me any of it back, I lost it, fair and square." Lord Llywelyn remarked.

"You're already giving me so much, sir." Elisud insisted with a beaming smile. "I could NEVER thank thee enough for that but at the very least I can give you a bit of coinage. Mayhaps use it to buy your wife a new dress with my compliments and deepest gratitude?"

Then he heard it once more. "There it is again!" He groaned, looking left and right. "That BUZZING noise. Don't all of thee hear it?"

The others glanced around, then Bowen sighed as he rose up, readying his bow and arrow and peering down over the ramparts, looking down the walls. "I don't see any silly froggit flies trying to climb up the walls." He called out. "You sure you're not a-hearin' things, Elisud?" He inquired as Elisud rose up, looking about, holding a hand to his ear and closing his eyes.

"The sound is coming from…over…there." He said, gesturing off towards the west as he quickly made his way to the far side of the castle, strolling over a connected pathway bridge, finally arriving at the other side…and his eyes bulged wide with horror. "OH MY GOD!"

Oh his God indeed, for now he saw what the buzzing noise was. The froggits on the eastern side had been a distraction, for a much larger frog that was a good three feet tall and with a crown upon its head stood there, eyes burning like coals, its mouth looking almost like it had been sewn shut, ready to burst open and let loose a horrific, soul-shattering croak. Underneath its body were burning, sickeningly bright eyes, and sweeping all about it…was a SWARM of flies that were sweeping along the grass, barreling towards the castle.

"SIRS! SIRS! We've got a MASSIVE, crowned Froggit to the west!" Elisud cried out. "He's unleashing a swarm of flies upon us all!" Elisud cried out as the men in the courtyard below and on the ramparts immediately bolted upright. Cries rang out as they took hold of their weaponry, Lord Llywelyn seeing the froggits on the east racing towards them.

"They are trying to ensnare us in a pincer movement! We must strike back! Ready your positions! Take aim with your bows, my bowmen and fire, fire, fire! Get me some boiling oil to keep them from getting inside the castle!" He roared out as Elisud reached into the folds of his robes, readying the small crossbow he had by his side as he got out his small little quiver of bows. He drew the string back, readying the bow as he took aim, then cringed. No, no, he could maybe hit a FEW flies but he'd never be able to do any proper damage.

"Light your arrows!" Lord Llywelyn yelled as he and others held up torches, the arrowmen lighting up the arrows they were ready to fire as Elisud did the same, nodding at his lord. "We'll be able to strike more down this way! Here they come!"

The flies had almost reached the castle, that horrific, foul, unnatural buzzing filling the air as the Final Froggit let loose a big, loud, ear-splitting GRRROAAAARRRKKKKK of a noise, and Lord Llywelyn cried "FIRE!"

THWOOSH-THWOOSH-THWOOSH! Arrows soared forth, rapped in burning flames, barreling down at the flies, others aimed at the onslaught of froggits. The screeches and cries of dying Froggits was oddly human in how they sounded, it was SCARY how much a frog's cry was like a man's. But down they went all the same as the bowmen kept firing, big, large, burning chunks getting torn through the ensuing flies. The horde broke again and again, the attempt to break through the castle defenses appeared to be failing.

But Elisud could see a distinctly smug look on the Final Froggit's face. He kept hopping leisurely towards the castle, and the flies kept coming. Elisud didn't know why he was so smug and cheery but-

Then he realized why as he reached into his quiver and found out that he'd run out of arrows. And evidently, so had most of his friends! The men were clearly out of arrows and now they were trying to pour down boiling oil as the flies soared towards them…but the flies could dodge these far more easily than the arrows, soaring up, away from the boiling oil to shoot down at the men.

"AGGGHHH!" Elisud could see his comrades being swarmed by loads and loads of flies. Though the Froggit assault from their front line had failed miserably, the Final Froggit's flies were succeeding very well. They tried to swat and slash and bat at the insects sweeping all about them, getting in their eyes, biting at their flesh, but though they knocked several of them down, it was proving nigh-impossible to kill the little pests.

Only those who'd put on armor had some degree of protection as they were being kept from being bit…until the flies got into their hoods, forcing folks like Gawain and Iolo to rip their helmets off as quickly as they could, spluttering, coughing, digging at their eyes, the flies trying to eat their eyeballs out!

Elisud gasped in horror, surrounded on all sides by his beset friends, the screaming of the dying and the hurt and the terrified all around him. He had to do something. ANYTHING! Anything at all! He had to get rid of all of these flies! He turned, seeing the Final Froggit now atop the ramparts, a distinctly smug look on its features as it stuck its tongue out mockingly at him.

"Not so high and mighty in your castle NOW, are you, humans?" It inquired as Elisud felt a shudder go over him, the frog-like monster gazing right at him as…something unexpected happened.

In fact…three things happened in quick succession.

PING! A big, green heart manifested in midair in front of Elisud, and the Final Froggit sneered at him again, Elisud's eyes widening.

A powerful, yet oddly soothing and tender balm of emerald light rose up around Esliud's frame as his vibrant verdant eyes sparkled.

And he covered his face and his head with his arms, flopping onto his knees, wanting the flies and the froggy monster to just go away, as an enormous, pulsating, throbbing shield of green light cascaded forth, shooting out from his body. THA-THWOOOOM! All of the flies around him, and the Final Froggit too, went sailing through the air, the other flies dissolving away in midair as the Final Froggit's concentration was shattered by the sudden burst of what could only be described…

As MAGIC. Pure Green Magic…from a Soul of Kindness.

TRHROMPH. He hit the ground, groaning, the men gazing in amazement, fear and wonder at Elisud as he looked down at his hands, which slightly glowed with the same green light as the shield, the Final Froggit quickly hopping away from the castle as fast as his little legs could carry him, not wanting to stick around to fight a MAGE as Lord Llywelyn approached Elisud, and the obvious question came from his lips.

"Elisud…how in the name of everything holy did you do that?"

"I haven't any idea." Elisud whispered. "…what did I just DO?"

"That's MAGIC, my boy. Magic, right there. No doubt about it!" Gawain whispered, bite marks all over his cheeks and left side of his face, whilst poor Bowen was missing one of his fingers, nibbled off by the flies as he had his hand wrapped up, and was cringing in pain. "I've only heard stories of the wonders of the mages."

"Does anyone know anything of what green magic does?" Dylann inquired as Iolo rubbed over his eye. He had a VERY nasty wound, the flies had tried to eat it out of its socket and had eaten the eyelid away.

"It's healing magic. Shielding magic. The sign of a compassionate and kind soul." He whispered as Elisud's mouth fell agape. "Perchance he could heal our wounds."

"I can…try." Elisud murmured.

"Try to think of how you used it just now. What was going through your mind?" Lord Llywelyn asked, putting a hand on Elisud's shoulder as he bit his lip.

"I…just wanted that monster to leave us alone. That thought flared in my mind, in my heart. I just wanted him to GO, and…and something erupted up inside me."

"Concentrate then on…Bowen, for starters. Bowen, your wound!" Lord Llywelyn proclaimed as Bowen raced over to Elisud, the others watching on in awe, as Esliud held onto Bowen's hand. "Think only of healing his wound. Try to picture his healed hand in your mind. All of you, stay silent! Let him focus. Let him breathe. Let him feel the swell of healing light within." The lord reasoned as Esliud took in deep, long breaths, as he closed his eyes, his hands feeling over Bowen's injured hand, picturing the flesh growing back.

Slowly but surely, he felt the surge a-swelling up in him but…no, no, it was more like a soft ripple. A gentle wave, a balm that soothingly slid from his hands in a tender green aura, as Bowen's finger began to grow back, good as new, right before their eyes.

"Tis a miracle." Bowen softly whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. "Tis truly a blessing from God himself that you'd gain this power, at our most dire hour! There can't be any other explanation!"

"Now, now, Elisud has other wounds to treat. But once he has finished, we celebrate." Lord Llywelyn proclaimed firmly as he gently patted Elisud's back. "Esliud, your hands were meant to heal, that much is true. And we'll celebrate tonight with a glorious feast in your name."

"I don't know if I deserve it, sir. Anyone with my gift would surely do the same." Esliud said humbly as he blushed somewhat.

"Then we'll celebrate to God's grace, that allowed us to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Sound better to thy ears?" Lord Llywelyn asked as Esliud warmly smiled back.

"I don't think God would mind that at all, sir. Nor would I. You all honor me with your faith in my new skills, I only hope I can do right by you." He insisted with a bow of his head.

Meanwhile, the Final Froggit had made his way far across the expanse to the west, and had found refuge within the forest, a deep, dark woods indeed. The lack of sun from the quilt of clouds above made the only light from within be illuminated all the more as a burning figure stood in powerful armor, sitting on a big, gigantic dolmen, surrounded by a host of other creatures, all of whom were radically different from each other. There were creatures with only one eye and nasty, foul horns, the eye in the center of their gigantic head. It would blink every once in a while, and shift, and the one eye became two tiny ones with a little, smirking mouth. Another being would have been adorable in its tiny little winged armor, save for the coldness that emanated from its helmet as it spun a spear about. A big, hulking, horned knight of a monster had a gigantic Morningstar resting upon its shoulder, and it turned to the burning, humanoid being in armor, clearing its throat.

"The Regimental Leader of the Froggit Squad's Welsh Platoon 1 is here, sir."

The Final Froggit was allowed to pass by the towering behemoth of a monster as the burning being folded his arms over his chest. Upon examination, the being was…just barely an adult. He looked eighteen, really, with fire for skin, for hair, and lacking a proper face, save for two yellowish, intense spots that resembled eyes.

"How did it go?"

"…miserably." The Regimental Leader sighed. "I'm very, very sorry Lord Grillersby. They had a mage with them. One blast of his shield scattered my flies and sent me flying, and my divisions…well…I have no divisions. They crumbled from the onslaught of arrows, and are now but dust in the wind."

"That is very unfortunate." Grillersby, better known as "Grillby" to his friends, sighed as he hopped off the dolmen and paced back and forth. "Still, we need a good foothold in Wales and killing their king would finally teach the humans they can't keep pushing us around. He's the weakest and easiest to get to of all the rulers of these islands. If we can't get to him, we certainly won't be able to get any of the others!"

"What of the one they call Cu Chulainn, sir?" The Regimental Leader asked as everyone else drew in a deep, harsh breath. "Has Melusine not proven effective against him?"

"You would THINK." Grillersby grunted. "…you would think. Unfortunately, it would seem the rumors are true. He's as a demon on the field of battle. Sigh." He hung his head. "I'm going to have to write back to poor Asgore and let him know the bad news. And that means he's going to have to give his Father the bad news. And I'll have to deliver it myself to ensure the letter isn't intercepted before it gets to our dear skeletal friends in England..."

[speedwalk]

too broke for therapy, just gonna speak into the void

i think the reason behind a good deal of my behaviour is that deep down i straight up don't believe in myself. and i think over time i've developed that lack of faith from having started and failed to complete so many things that i've like.. ingrained in myself this expectation that my efforts will in the end prove futile.

that's why the very small gains i've experienced here and there lately have felt huge for my self-esteem. there was a time i thought i'd never finish my fiverr ad and even though it took so long to do and it's kind of flopping like i still can't believe i wrote those 3 samples and the copy and the slide design. i keep forgetting that the job i have now is because i had those samples to show for, like in the end it wasn't all futile and i can't forget that even though it wasn't my original plan. (i still plan on further finessing that ad and adding a video but it's kind of on the backburner right now.)

some things i tried in the past did indeed go nowhere or are halted but i think i've wised up and have tried to take a more integrated approach so i'm not just spending time on things that don't connect to each other. also i'm learning that giving airtime to grandiose thoughts of my future self is bad for me because i have a habit of building a vision that's too complex. my inner judge knows there's something wrong with believing in such a specific future where certain skills have been mastered, languages learned, work done, etc. etc.

i still think it's important to be working toward something, but it's kind of a skill to creating a long-term vision that's workable, and maybe that starts by focusing more on ways that you act than on things that you'll have finished or learned or achieved. like i just gotta get the baby steps, the basic routine down. it'll be easier to start and complete tasks if i try to achieve them instead of some larger, skewed vision. honestly, is anyone's future vision of themselves realistic? everybody looks better in their heads in the future. you're not gonna make yourself look worse unless you're really defeated inside.

[plotlinehotline]

I know its highly recommended against, nut my main character does end up dying, and I've written it to be as peaceful and closing as possible, but people still say to never do this.

The Thing About Writing Rules

I will talk a bit about character deaths later in the post, but anon framed this question in too perfect a way to pass up. I think many writers, new or experienced, will admit that writing advice can be quite subjective. Where we start to doubt ourselves is when we see the same advice given from many different people and many different sources, and we start seeing that once subjective bit of advice as a “rule.” If everyone’s saying it’s a bad idea, it’s probably a bad idea. 

But there’s something about these supposed rules of writing that many people forget. Reasons.

When I’m at work at the library, I am asked many times by people to remove overdue fines from their account. As much as I’d like to remove all the fines as a gesture of kindness for people, we impose overdue fines for a reason. We want people to have an added incentive to bring items back, so other people can enjoy them. So when it comes to removing fines, I’m more likely to do it for someone who is always on time with their books, and simply had one extenuating circumstance that delayed them, rather than someone who is regularly late and expects us to cut them a break every single time. Our goal is to get books back in a timely manner, and constantly cutting fines for someone that is routinely late sends the message that we don’t take fines seriously, and they’ll return their books “whenever they feel like it.” 

My point here is that we have a reason for the rule, and my understanding of the reason allows me to make the best decisions about when to break the rules. So if you’re considering doing something in your story that everyone says not to do, take the time to understand the reasons why people say not to do it. 

Why You Shouldn’t Kill Off Your Protagonist 

So let’s talk a little bit about why people say you shouldn’t do this. Because then we’ll be armed with enough knowledge to break that rule effectively. 

One reason is point of view. If you have a first person narrator, killing them off creates a bit of awkwardness with your point of view. You’ve spent the entire novel telling the story from that character’s perspective, so essentially, once they’re gone, the story ends. Abruptly. Which could be a problem if I have many other plot and character arcs to give a satisfying conclusion to. So with this reason I’ve described, let’s see if we can break this rule. 

Maybe my first person narrator is not the only first person narrator. Maybe I’m switching between two characters, and therefore choose to the write the death of this character through the other character’s eyes. With this other character, I’m able to write their death with some distance, and I’m able to continue the story after the death, in order to tie up any loose ends I may have left hanging. 

Maybe there’s nothing left to resolve following the character’s death. Perhaps my narrator succumbs to battle wounds following the ultimate climax. Maybe the bad guy is dead, and any plot lines from other characters have been effectively wrapped up either before the climax or directly following (before our MC dies). Perhaps our MC’s goals have been adequately addressed, whether they achieved their goals or have accepted that they won’t (because they’re about to die). If the only possible aftermath of the story is typical grief from other characters involved, it might be okay to break the rule. 

THE CAVEAT: Don’t try to compare deaths in fiction to deaths in reality. Yes, in reality, you don’t always get to make amends with old friends you’ve quarreled with, and you don’t always get the chance to accept your successes or failures in life. And sadly, sometimes you don’t even see it coming. But these are tragedies that readers can’t always handle, and you run the risk of losing people if you don’t take the time to properly conclude the story and all its conflicts. Imagine you wrote about two best friends who had a huge fight before your MC died. If you don’t resolve that tension between them before you kill the character off, then you’ve left a major character conflict on the table, and unless you continue the story to show the best friend’s atypical grief (which I don’t recommend unless your story’s main conflict was also left unresolved), a reader will feel unsatisfied. And unsatisfying endings often result in books being thrown across the room. 

TO THE ANON: You said you’ve written it as “peaceful and closing as possible.” In my mind, you’ve attempted to address everything I’ve discussed here. So these reasons for not killing a protagonist are irrelevant to you. You’ve done your due diligence. 

Another reason is its role in the story. Writers often use character deaths as solutions to external problems. What I mean by external problems are problems that are happening outside of your story - things like writer’s block, being bored with your story, having no idea how to end it, wanting to surprise readers or elicit emotion from them. The prime example of an internal problem would be a detail of your story mythology that makes death unavoidable. “How do we defeat Voldemort? Destroy all his Horcruxes. Harry is a horcrux? Harry must die.” Harry’s death is a solution to an internal story problem, so this is an instance where it works. So with this reason I’ve described to avoid character death, let’s see if we can break this rule. 

Maybe an external problem becomes an internal one. It’s possible you did get bored with your story, or that you’ve always wanted to write a powerful death scene that will bring readers to tears. It’s okay to use character deaths for these reasons, so long as you create internal reasons as well. If you’re writing your story’s climax, and you decide to kill off the main character to shock the readers, make sure you are going back through your entire story and effectively foreshadowing to this death, and giving it a role in your story. What will this character’s death solve? Will it result in the end of the antagonist? Will it have significance in other character relationships, or serve some personal destiny for them? It may have started as shock value, but you can’t let it end there. Sometimes when you force yourself to go back and work the death into the story, you’re forced to evaluate if it’s worth it to you to do that extra work, and you’re able to make the best decision for the story. 

THE CAVEAT: Don’t make too many sacrifices to make character deaths work. You might be willing to make drastic changes to your plot in order to add in a death you’ve just come up with, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you should. If you’ve got a cohesive plot, and an ending that is nearly there, you could be set back for months by introducing something as major as an unplanned character death. When you’re so near to completion, a huge setback like that can completely derail you, and the draft meanders for a while before it winds up unfinished. If you find that you’re stuck with how to resolve things, and the only thing you can come up with is killing the character, I would challenge you to go back through your story and search for details in your conflict that will offer up a solution you just haven’t seen yet, rather than one you have to add in. 

TO THE ANON: You used the phrase “ends up dying,” which to me sounds like it’s something that was worked well into the plot. When we say that something “ends up happening,” usually it means that something has happened that we may have tried to avoid but there were factors involved that resulted in it anyway. So your using that language leads me to believe that there were internal factors contributing to the characters’ death that couldn’t be avoided, no matter how hard they (and even you) tried to fight it. If this is true, then again, I think you’ve adequately addressed this problem and should be clear to continue with the character death.

Why You Shouldn’t Listen to Me (or anyone else’s general advice for that matter…)

Because when it comes to your story, I honestly know nothing. I’m pretty useless actually.

Even with all this discussion, I can’t say for sure if this character death will work for the anon’s story. Even if they gave me a detailed plot summary, I couldn’t say for sure if it would work. Because with something like this, it comes down to the specific details of your story - the nitty gritty things that I couldn’t evaluate unless I read the entire story from start to finish and was able to form a reader’s opinion. All I can do is give you general advice that you may or may not be able to apply to your work.

Now, I may not have time to read every one of our followers’ stories (what a great job that would be), but there are millions of people out there that can do that for you. I’m not going to go into finding writer friends because that would be a huge tangent unrelated to this post, but you need to make big decisions like this based on advice that is coming from someone that has read your specific story, and knows your specific plot and characters, and your specific writing style and intentions. Advice (like mine) that has been generalized to work for many people might be helpful, but it’s not the end all/be all for your personal story decisions. You have to do what works for your exact situation. 

Having said all that, what was the point of my rambling on about reasons and breaking rules? I wanted to show you that it’s not about someone telling you that you should or shouldn’t do something. It’s about understanding the “rules” and the reasons behind them so intimately that you’re in control of them. That you can decide if breaking it will negatively impact your story. 

When faced with a problem like this, don’t say, “I shouldn’t do this because everyone says not to…” Instead, research why people say not to do it, and decide if those reasons why are relevant for your story. 

Good luck! 

-Rebekah