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waywardxwords · 3 years

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Whole Again

Summary: When Crowley is holding your family hostage, you jump into gear to try to rescue them. You feel angry as Dean insists you need a plan before rushing in. Your feelings are overwhelming, especially when you realize why you’re feeling the way that you do. You just want to feel whole again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,821

Warnings: Violence, blood, vomiting (not too detailed), severe sadness/despair, swearing, and fluffiness (bc I don’t know any other way lol)

The engine of your 1969 Mercury Cougar roared against the asphalt as you drove down some one-lane highway in the middle of some rural town in Kansas. You pressed your foot even further on the accelerator, not minding the speed limit. You didn’t care; there wasn’t enough time.

Your eyes watched the path in front of you, bathed in the light from your headlights. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your cell phone screen light up—the buzz from it vibrating, slightly noticeable against the vinyl seat upholstery.

Without even looking at the ID, you knew who it was. You reached for the device and slid to answer—this was the fifth time he had called. He wasn’t going to stop until you obliged. “What?” You barked into the receiver of the phone.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Dean Winchester breathed into the phone. “You have to turn around. We need a plan. You can’t just barge in there.” You could tell he was doing everything he could to remain calm and collected; must be nice, you thought to yourself. He doesn’t have a horse in this race, so of course he wants to play it safe.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Dean,” you spat back. Your eyes blurred from the angry tears that had pooled there. You blinked—hard—to will them away. Instead, they escaped through the corners of your eyes and trailed down your face. You didn’t care.

“Dammit, Y/N,” all bets were off, and Dean had returned to his angsty, gruff self. “This is a trap, and you know it.”

“Do you really think I’m that stupid? Of course, it’s a trap, Dean! But what the hell am I supposed to do?! You tell me what you would do in this situation if it were Sam,” your words dripped with bitterness, but again—you didn’t care. The emotions in you ranged from anger to annoyance to disappointment—you had trusted him, and now you felt like a fool.

“Y/N…” he trailed off.

“Exactly. You can’t tell me, because you would be doing exactly what I’m doing,” there was a fierceness behind your words that Dean hadn’t heard before. “You made your choice to stay. And you know what? That’s fine; that’s on you. I don’t even care anymore,” you tried to make your voice sound strong and sure. You wanted him to believe every word, even though you knew there was no truth to it. You did care. You cared so much it hurt physically.

“So what are you gonna do, then? Just walk in there, guns blazing? Hope you can take out a few demons before Crowley puts you out of your misery?” If he had been hurt by the words you had said, he wasn’t showing it.

You blinked against the tears a few times; the grip of your left hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m going to give him the tablet.” You pulled the phone away from your face and quickly hit ‘End’ before tossing it back on the passenger seat beside you.

-----

You weren’t sure how long it had been, exactly. You couldn’t be sure how many times you had lost consciousness at this point, but it was certainly more than once. You blinked against the darkness; your hands still secured behind your back. The ropes were still tied firmly around your ankles, making it impossible for you to budge.

Eyes closed tightly, you tried to remember what had happened—how you had gotten here. You were certain you could’ve used the tablet as leverage. Crowley would accept the tablet and in return, he would release you and your family—unharmed, back to normal.

“Ah, she’s awake,” a bright light snapped on overhead—it blinded you for a moment. You blinked against it, aggressively squinting to make out Crowley and two men in suits. Your jaw tightened as you struggled against the ropes on your wrists. Bile crept from the pit of your stomach up towards your esophagus; it burned the base of your throat. “Morning, Sunshine.”

“Where are they?” You found your voice. You were disappointed by how weak it sounded. You had been hurt—you could feel the leftover gashes in your skin. Your face felt tight, so you knew there had to be dried blood there.

Crowley looked around the warehouse as he played dumb. “Who? Mummy and Daddy? Your baby sister?” He asked coyly. You grinded your teeth, your jaw ached from the pain. It wasn’t even the physical pain. The pain in your chest as you assumed the worst about your family.

“Y/N?” You heard a soft voice come from behind you. Crowley took six steps towards you and strongly lifted your chair to turn you towards the voices. There in front of you were three different racks, of sorts. You imagined these were like the racks in Hell—the racks that Dean had described in painful detail one night when you both had gotten carried away drinking.

On the first one, your father. His arms pulled back to each corner of the rack; his legs tied in the same fashion at the bottoms of the rack—spread out like an ‘X’. His head was down, and you knew he was unconscious. Blood dripped from his head—a pool of crimson red forming below him on the concrete floor. He had wounds all over his body. You couldn’t make out what was cut versus blood from other injuries.

On the second, your mother. She seemed to be awake, but barely. Her eyes were tiny slits—squinting towards you. You swallowed past the lump in your throat as you realized she was trying to determine if you were real or just a figment of her imagination. Blood caked her hair—it had already matted in places. Her body was leaning forward, pulling her away from the rack. Your eyes were drawn to her wrists, which were being cut by the cuffs around them as gravity pulled her body forward.

And then the third rack—the rack with your baby sister. She was only two years younger than you, but you still referred to her as your baby sister. She was the one who had called your name out. She, too, was strung up just like your parents. But her core muscles allowed her to hold herself up. You could tell she was terrified—the panic made her arms move and pull at the cuffs holding her against the rack. She writhed against the metal. It made the bile bubbling like boiling acid in your stomach unavoidable. In a quick motion, you leaned to your right and your entire body heaved.

Crowley looked down at the floor, a grimace pulled over his face. And in one quick motion, his hand slapped across your face. It was such a hard slap, you were certain you had the outline of a handprint in its wake. “You dumb bitch, you yakked on my shoes!”

Your eyes glazed over; you didn’t care about the pain, or the smell of the bile. You couldn’t get past the smell of blood, and the way your sister looked at you. “Y/N,” she repeated, this time she choked out a sob. “W-What’s happening?”

Before you could speak, Crowley moved towards her. “Your sister,” he started as he paced in front of her rack. “…let’s just say she has poor decision-making skills. She had a choice,” he glanced back at you as he continued. “And she chose a Moose and a Squirrel.”

Your sister looked confused, and you didn’t blame her. You closed your eyes and dropped your head, but only for a moment. Your memories began to come back. “Crowley, I gave you the tablet! What more do you want from me?” You sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it.

In just a few swift steps, Crowley was back in front of you. The breeze from his speed made you blink as he held onto the armrests of your chair and leaned as close to your face as possible without touching. “I WANTED THE WINCHESTERS!” He screamed.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes again. “They aren’t coming!” You screamed back. “I told you, I came here alone.”

Crowley stepped back once more and it was then that you realized he had a blade in his hand. “And that’s why we’re here, puppet. That’s why we’re all here. Mummy, Daddy, little sister…”

Your eyes were glued to him as he walked slowly—so slowly, you felt like he could almost be moving backwards. It sounded so far away as you heard your sister scream. Was he really walking that slowly, or was your mind playing tricks on you? Your sister just kept screaming over and over again—blood curdling. You realized your eyes had glazed over again and you weren’t even seeing clearly. And that was when one of Crowley’s pawns put his hands on your head and turned it towards where Crowley stood in front of your sister.

You watched. He took the blade in his hand and drove it straight into her gut—her eyes were widened in horror, her mouth agape. Blood began to slowly flood her mouth and drip down to the floor. Her body was no longer able to hold her against the rack, and she fell forward—only caught by cuffs that wrapped her wrists and ankles.

“You can thank your big sis for that,” Crowley muttered loud enough for you to hear. In a swift movement, he twisted the blade completely until her head fell forward and you knew she was gone. He pulled the blade out and with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, he wiped it down. “Are we having fun yet?” He turned back to you with an evil smile spread across his lips.

Your heart pounded so hard against the wall of your chest, you were certain it would thump right out of your body. But yet you wouldn’t scream. You couldn’t move. For the first time in a long time, there were no heroes. There was no saving.

One by one, Crowley made it down the line. Putting your family out of their misery. You winced with each slice—you believed something in you to be broken, as you couldn’t get out a reaction. But then you realized your face was wet, and you thought you could hear your own voice echoing off of the concrete walls of the warehouse. Maybe you were screaming, after all.

And finally, Crowley sauntered over to you. Your eyes felt heavy—like you were tired. You summed it up to a combination of the blood loss and watching your entire family be slaughtered while you sat there, unable to move.

You closed your eyes as he stood in front of you. You waited…would there be pain? Was there really a bright light? Would a Reaper come for you?

Crowley cleared his throat in front of you, causing you to open your eyes. “Here’s the deal, love,” he looked down into your eyes. “I’m going to let you sit here and stew in your own juices. I want you to feel the pain…just watching your family’s meat suits rot. And when the Winchesters inevitably show up, you tell them Crowley would like a word.” He whispered the last part so close to your ear it made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared into thin air.

And so you sat there.

Screams fell from your lips, but there was no one around to hear. Your eyes were forced to look at the bodies—this blood was on you. Your family’s blood was on you. You couldn’t save them. You could pray to Cas, but you didn’t want to. You hoped more than anything you had ever hoped for before that your blood would seep out onto the concrete floor around you, and a Reaper would come for you. Maybe you’d get lucky and it would be Tessa. She seemed pleasant…for a Reaper, anyway.

You closed your eyes. It was better than the alternative.

-------

You blinked. Once, twice…three times. Voices, you heard voices again. You had come to accept that it was your mind playing tricks on you—hallucinations, you assumed. Probably from the blood loss.

“Hey, Y/N…you hear me?” Someone was in your face. Your hallucinations were…touching you? That didn’t seem right. Then again, you had never been on the edge of death before. So you guessed it could be possible. “Sammy, she’s waking up.”

The Winchesters? You were on the brink of death and your mind decided to hallucinate the Winchesters?

Your eyes were thin slits at this point—sunken in. Your hair was matted with blood, but you felt their hands on your face, your head, your torso. Someone—Sam, you thought—had his fingers working quickly on your wrists.

“Go…away…” you muttered in between raspy breaths. You tasted blood—you weren’t sure if it was from a strand of hair that had slipped in between your lips, or if you had internal bleeding that was making its way up your throat. You didn’t care.

“Y/N, stay with me, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” Dean said as he tried to keep eye contact with you. “Cas!” He practically growled. He looked up to the ceiling—waiting.

A bright light surrounded you in the room—standing before you was Cas, trench coat and all. Your eyes lulled back again, you anticipated to pass out once more. You felt arms around your middle and your head cradled in a shoulder—you knew that shoulder. It belonged to Dean.

“Fix her…please,” you felt the rumble in his chest as the words fell from his lips. You knew you weren’t lucid, but you could have sworn you sensed a hint of begging. The Dean Winchester you knew didn’t beg.

“Don’t,” even in your haze, the word slipped between your lips.

“Y/N,” Cas approached you carefully. His eyes moved over you as he assessed the damage. “If I do not heal you, you will die.”

You remained silent. Cas looked between you and Dean. “Cas!” Dean barked once more.

Within seconds, the light was brightening around you—blinding you. You squinted against it. You willed your body to writhe away from him and fall on the nearest blade. But it was too late.

The physical pain suddenly began to fade until it was gone. No open wounds, no more seeping blood. “Her injuries are healed,” Cas explained. “But it will take some time for her blood levels to normalize.” You noticed there was still ringing in your ears, and you felt a bit dizzy. But all things considered, it could have been so much worse. But that made your heart sink.

“Fuck you, Dean,” you muttered as you shoved with all the strength you had at his chest.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes closed for a second. You moved to stand but felt lightheaded. In trying to find your way back to your seat, you almost fell. Dean caught you just before you hit the ground. “Alright, Speed Demon. Take it easy.” With one arm around your back, he dipped the other behind your knees as he lifted you bridal-style. “Dean Winchester, put me down right now,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

“I can throw you over my shoulder, if you want,” he smirked. The smirk…you wanted to slap it off of his face. It took everything in you not to.

“Put…me…down,” your teeth were so gritted now you thought they might break. “I’m not kidding, Dean.” You shoved at his chest and managed to wiggle from his grasp. He held his hands up in defeat. You slowly made your way to the exit of the building and realized it had started to rain.

The gravel was wet. You were thankful it was gravel, your shoes seemed to grip it a bit better. One slow step at a time, you passed the Impala and just kept walking. The darkness was overwhelming as you moved away from the yellow street light positioned just outside the warehouse and kept moving. You didn’t know where you were going. As soon as you hit grass, you fell to your knees. A bubble formed in the pit of your stomach; you felt it roll up your body until it rumbled out of your mouth as a sob.

Your face was wet—a mixture of tears and rain. You heard the gravel shift behind you and knew he was there. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, your knees soaking through from the wet grass.

He didn’t say anything, he just kneeled directly beside you. You saw his head duck as he tried to capture his thoughts.

“Y/N—” you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else.

“Shove it, Dean,” you cut him off, your words bitter. “Nothing you say…” you mumbled in between sobs. “…nothing you say can fix this.”

He cleared his throat. “I know that,” his voice was a little louder as the rain pelted down around you. The droplets bounced angrily off of the metal roof behind you. He stayed silent. The rain inspired you to pour everything out.

“If you and Sam had come with me,” you shook your head as the tears continued to fall. “It just…we could have stopped Crowley, Dean! We could have done it! Every, fucking hunt you find—I follow you blindly.” You didn’t mean for your words to sound as angry as they did; or maybe you meant every emotion behind them. You didn’t care. “Every time, Dean. I never ask any questions. I trust you and I go.”

Silence.

The only sound that filled your ears was the continued fall of the rain, and your heavy sobs. You managed to turn your head to look at him. You couldn’t be certain, but his face was covered with water—was he…crying?

You had never seen Dean Winchester cry, so you really didn’t know what to make of it. Before you could do or say anything, you felt a sadness in your heart. But it wasn’t from having witnessed your family be brutally murdered before your eyes…no, that was a feeling of despair; the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. This was sadness. Sadness for your friend—the man you had grown to care for, though he didn’t know it.

“Dean,” you started. You were mad at yourself—you were supposed to be pissed off at this man sitting next to you. You should have been seeing red. But you couldn’t. You had to make sure he was okay.

“Y/N, I am so…so sorry,” he breathed out as he wiped at his face. He tried to rid his face of the tears and the rain drops as they mixed together. “I thought that we had time. I thought we could…” he trailed off as you watched his eyes move over the strands of grass in front of you as he searched for the words. “…come up with a plan. I had no idea this would happen.”

Silence again, your eyes closed as more tears slipped through your eyelids. “Of course, you didn’t know,” you finally breathed out. Desperation set in as you realized this wasn’t Dean’s fault. You wanted someone to blame; you didn’t know what to do, what to say, where to go. “I don’t have anywhere to go anymore. My family is gone; I have no one.” The words fell from your lips as quickly as they entered your brain—you hadn’t even realized you were talking out loud until Dean moved on his knees until he was in front of you and his hands were on either side of your face.

You felt the calloused pads of his thumbs swipe under your burning eyes, his wrists moved to lift your gaze to meet his. “You have us, Y/N. You have…you have me,” he said so softly you weren’t sure you had heard him. “We will always be your family. Always, do you hear me?”

Your eyes scrunched closed as you cried. You brought your hands up to his and held on for dear life. You were grasping at anything at this point; it felt as though you were drowning.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dean,” you mumbled as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him—desperation.

He swallowed and nodded as he pulled his hands back. “I understand if you don’t want to stay with us,” he nodded, like he was trying to convince himself that he truly understood.

“No, Dean…this. Life, how am I supposed to even keep going?” Had you heard yourself speak this way a day ago, you would have been disgusted with yourself and how weak you sounded. But it was different now, and you didn’t care.

“Listen to me,” he reached for your face again—his eyes bore into yours. “It’s not easy, and I get that. The shitty part about life and what we do, is that we lose people. It happens way too often, and it never gets easier,” he said firmly. “But what you’re gonna do is come back to the bunker, get some rest and let us help you.”

The tears continued to fall—at this point, you had no idea how there were any tears left. But you were too tired and weak to fight him. Dean was too strong to fight when you were operating at one hundred percent; there was no way you could fight him now.

His eyes moved between yours as he studied your features. When he realized there was no longer resistance, he stood up from his spot on the grass and leaned down. He scooped you up into his arms—one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees. The exhaustion was overpowering as your head hit his shoulder and you closed your eyes. The rain continued to beat against your hot flesh.

Sam opened the passenger door to the Impala while Dean helped you sit up. He grabbed your keys and tossed them to Sam. After closing your door, he had a few words with Sam before getting in the driver’s side. There were no words; just the hum of the engine as Dean drove you back to the bunker.

-----

Back at the bunker, numbness had set in. You had always heard of the Stages of Grief, but you never imagined going through them.

You felt tears bubble again; dammit. You hated crying—everything about it. The emotion, in general, but then also the congestion, the swollen eyes, the overall puffiness in your face. Dean had you on the edge of the bed facing the wall of your room in the bunker, he had just kneeled down in front of you. His eyes looked over your face and you could tell: Dean Winchester was trying to fix you. But there was no fixing this unless he found away to reverse time or bring your family back.

“Hey,” he breathed. His thumb ran small circles over your denim covered knee. “Listen, I know you’re going through it right now…” he trailed off. “But you’ve gotta get out of those wet clothes. You’re cold, you gotta get changed.” You could tell his brain was picking each word so carefully, which wasn’t very Dean Winchester-esque.

You hadn’t realized you were cold until you noticed your body was physically shaking. “I don’t care.” You breathed.

“Dammit, Y/N,” he muttered and stood up. His jaw tightened as he tried to control his frustration. He rubbed his hand over his face as he paced around your bedroom, one hand in his jean’s pocket, the other over his mouth, resting on his chin.

“I’m too tired, Dean. I just…I can’t,” you begged the tears to stop falling, but your body wasn’t listening. He turned back to you and you could see the sadness wash over his features.

“Well, will you let me help you?” He asked, calmer now as he realized you were just mentally and physically done.

You shuddered at the thought, but this time it wasn’t from the chill of the air on your wet clothes. This was something much deeper; something that had developed months ago but you had worked so hard to push out of your heart. You didn’t have the will to fight it anymore. You nodded carefully, a small nod—but you had been sure he had seen it.

His eyes watched yours and he nodded; he moved towards the dresser and retrieved a pair of pajama pants and an over-sized hoodie. He brought them back to the bed and cleared his throat. You could tell he was trying to keep this as professional as possible—he just wanted to take care of you. Dean put his hand out in front of you and you carefully took it. He helped pull you to your feet so you were standing just in front of him.

“Arms up,” he whispered. You brought your arms up to about your shoulders and winced, a slight pain on your left side just under your breast. Concern covered his face as his forehead creased. “You alright?” He pulled up your shirt and identified the culprit—there was a pretty solid bruise just under your bra. “Dammit, Cas healed you…” he seemed worried.

“To be fair,” you breathed. “There were a lot of injuries to heal. One healing session might not have cut it.”

He nodded in agreement and carefully continued to help you pull off your shirt. You had forgotten that you would be standing in front of Dean with your bra fully visible. The thought made your cheeks flush with warmth as you avoided eye contact. He cleared his throat again—clearly a bit uncomfortable himself. He reached for your hoodie and slid the arms on first before pulling it over your head.

You managed a small smile as your head popped through the hole at the top of the hoodie. “Thanks, Dean.” Your words were soft, and for a moment he thought he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Don’t thank me…” his eyes moved between yours again. “I am just…Y/N, I’ll never stop being sorry.” You could see the pain in his eyes; the guilt.

“Dean, I had no right to blame you,” you shook your head. There they were again—the fucking tears. And that’s when it hit you; it all hit you square in the face. You had been so hurt when Dean wouldn’t go, because you trusted him blindly—because you loved him. You loved him, and you wanted him to love you—to trust you.

“You alright?” He watched your eyes as you contemplated all of this.

You nodded and swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I just…” you hesitated; you weren’t brave enough to confess your findings to Dean. But then again, your mind went back to your family…your loved ones. If you had learned anything tonight, it was that life is short and time is fast—and Dean had even been the one to say it; we lose people. You decided against your better judgment and just went for it. “I think I blamed you because I trusted you, and I wanted you to trust me.”

Dean had his hands on your face once more. “I do trust you, Y/N—”

You cut in before he could finish. “No, I know. But I realized I trust you so much because…because I love you.” Your eyes found his yet again. They darted quickly between his green orbs to try and get a sense for what he was thinking. But you couldn’t read him; you couldn’t tell what was happening in his brain. “And…and I wanted you to love me, too.” You prayed it didn’t sound as pathetic as it felt coming off of your lips; but, no regrets. You didn’t want to regret anything, not after tonight.

Without another word, his lips were on yours. They moved against you feverishly; it was as though he had yearned for this moment just as much as you had, if not more. One hand remained on your cheek, steadying you. The other moved to your hip and slipped under your hoodie, gently grasping onto the warm skin on your lower back to pull you closer.

He pulled back and you felt your chest heave as you came up for air. His eyes danced over yours again, this time reflecting a glint of…hope? Affection, maybe? Passion? You couldn’t be certain.

But then he licked his lips, his eyes traveled between your eyes and your now swollen lips. “I love you, too.” He murmured before his lips slowly caressed yours once more.

And in that moment, you felt whole again.

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

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I meant to finish this yesterday, but the episode last night about broke me in two and I couldn’t write. Please let me know your thoughts!! My reading requests are open (submit via the Ask Me! link on my page). Please re-blog, like, etc.! All mistakes made in this are my own, please don’t re-post anywhere off of Tumblr :)

xx S

#supernatural #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural ff #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn one shot #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester

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mego42 · 4 years

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Writer Asks

Tagged by @sothischickshe, @bourbon-ontherocks and @medievalraven who are all v lovely and for reasons unknown to me, want me to ramble about my fic so like, blame them for this I guess

Tagging @fairhairedkings, @riosnecktattoo, @inyoursheets, @foxmagpie, @pynkhues if you feel like it

ao3 name: ms_scarlet (origin story no one asked for: I came up with it for a creative writing class where we had to submit everything under pseudonyms for anonymous full class critique, which was gr9 and not at all traumatic, and I was deeply obsessed with both the Grateful Dead and Sublime versions of Scarlet Begonias at the time)

fandoms: the only fandoms I’ve written fic for are bellarke/t100 and Good Girls (and Buffy but it was way back in the day, pre-organized archives and has been completely lost to time which is For The Best)

number of fics: 14 (lol, 5 over the course 3 years in t100 fandom and 9 since joining the GG fandom at the beginning of s3, you could say I have been inspired)

fic i spent the most time on: a song inside the halls of the dark for sure, it’s the first multi chapter I’ve ever done and I’m far enough into it that I will be super honest, I was extremely dubious over whether or not I’d actually see it through when I started but huzzah! It’s happening. But yeah, I spend like, a lot of time thinking about it, writing it (lmao obvs), rewatching clips of the show to pick apart characterization and mannerisms, etc, etc. I try to work on it in some capacity every day (sometimes that just means outlining or deleting chunks of my outline and crying about how much I hate myself) to keep up momentum so yeah, def that one.

As far as one shots go, there’s blood in my body (I’m holding on) for bellarke, I think I spent a month, maybe 6 weeks working on that

fic i spent the least amount of time on: as the world turns, the blunt burns, I was doing my usual lazy Saturday morning scroll through Tumblr before I got out of bed and saw a post like I want beth and mick to get high together (I would love to give credit but I haven’t the foggiest notion who said it, I wasn’t intending to write it so I didn’t pay too much attention, I’m the worst, I’m sorry) and then some dialogue popped into my head maybe 10 min later and I think I wrote the whole thing in like, 45 min on my phone. Cannot emphasize enough how little I thought about it (or proofed it tbh, yikes, so many typos) before posting

most hits: overall, I’ve Got You Here my t100 post s3, alt s4 thing. For Good Girls, a song inside the halls of the dark

most kudos: overall, there’s blood in my body (I’m holding on) - bellarke modern au. For GG, still song.

most comment threads: a song inside the halls of the dark by a M I L E (it twice as many as blood, the next highest), the GG fandom is so lovely and supportive and friendly and I love you guys, I really do

most bookmarks: same as kudos, blood overall and then song for GG

highest total word count: lol song is killing it

favorite fic i wrote: oh man, that’s hard. I love them all for different reasons. Blood was my first ever AU (I am a canon/canon-divergent ho) and it also deals with some stuff that’s important to me so that’s always going to have a special place in my heart. I’ve Got You Here was the first time I tried to tackle something bigger than a missing scene or short one-shot so that’s also significant.

I’m really proud of smoke, fire, it’s all going up because I think I did a p good job with the Rio POV there. I’d give her a HA! And a HI-YA! is special bc it’s my first outside POV and it was based on so little info it was basically OC, so that was a fun challenge.

All of that said, obviously, a song inside the halls in the dark is my fav. It’s been the biggest stretch of my skills (I had NO! IDEA! If I could plot and pace on the level required to sustain the fic I’d originally outlined and it’s only grown from there tbh), it’s also been like, the loveliest experience? I keep saying people’s reaction to it has broken my brain and I’m not actually just saying that. I’m deeply overwhelmed. And last but emphatically not least, it’s how I’ve gotten to know @nickmillerscaulk who, on top of being an incredible editor (seriously y’all, she is Skilled, I’ve learned so much from her), is such an awesome, amazing person and I’m so very glad we’ve become friends.

fic i want to rewrite/expand on: Oh man, idk. Pills N Potions is the easiest because it’s a prompt collection! Send me prompts! I can’t promise I’ll write them right away (my ADHD is so very real and only dubiously under my control during quarantine, so I live in constant terror of losing the thread of song especially this close to the end) but I def want to flex my quick and dirty short fic for funsies skills. I’m super looking forward to @goodgirlsficrecs prompt-a-thon.

share a bit of a wip or story idea you’re working on: ahahaha oh man, my google drive is littered with partially drafted or outlined ideas. I have a bunch of missing scene things I started at various points in s3 that are realistically dead in the water.

In terms of WIP/ideas I’m still intending to work on/finish:

A post 311 Rio POV pwp

A fishing/fencing/flute playing fluff for @medievalraven because I keep taunting her with my tags for song

The Good Guys (Rio, JT and Stan) thing that snowballed in a post way back when from @jazillia007, @nickmillerscaulk, and @inyoursheets

I still low-key want to do the transcripts for the Mick, Annie and Ruby group chat. I might save that for whenever I rewatch and have it running concurrently to s3, idk we’ll see

A Jewel Thief AU that I am wildly hyped about. I outlined the first chapter of it around when I started posting song and haven’t let myself do anything with it because I know once I get started I’m going to abandon whatever else I’m working on

More Annie POV, I don’t have any specific ideas, I just really love writing Annie POV

#tag games #my fic

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404fmdhaon · 3 years

Text

creative claims verification — middle fingers up

summary: lyrics, composition and production for middle fingers up warnings: none wc: 1903 (not counting lyrics)

when he started music, it was only a fruitful thought. one that was wary with the times of boom bap saturated in the east coast — boarding school times, and he almost crafts himself a small wicked smile. nostalgia that pains his bones when he’s thinking to the shitty small room he was subjugated to, the speakers of his laptop bound to the sounds of biggie.

but he’s no biggie nor is he the second-coming of asap. he’s just haon, the sell-out from the sea of idoldom that’s got him whole. and where he’s alive becomes the sudden patterns of how music changes from one woe to the next — boom bap into trap, and he laughs at the incredulity of stepping into trap.

an explorer, a sole wanderer. he traps himself in the middle of the keys, pounding away one by one. they paint the picture to the time where he was nothing more than thirteen on the verge of puberty inside hannam-dong.

he starts with the progression of a chord, nothing too flashy nor showy. never been part of him when he’s only been a part of modesty and sulking behind the shadows of attention. it rises like the childhood keys, stripped away from the classical touches of beethoven and into the formative years of who he is now.

the first few regressions of the chord don’t sit easy. instead, they end the way they always do — the slams of his palms into a fucked up mash of notes he doesn’t know what to do with. he closes his eyes, and starts from base one, the one he’s always known. staccatos, and now he only rolls with the punches of what comes when he’s half dazed from sleep and his eyes bloodshot with the lack of sleep he doesn’t have.

and when he’s on what feels the hundredth time of something different, he lets it sit. plays it back — maybe it’s the lack of sleep or maybe it’s just the low standardization he’s fixed himself to, it clicks. seeps deep into the cracks of his soul where nothing soothes the deepened wounds that get buried under years upon year. imperfection, and it’s nothing short. nothing half-assed by the time he tries again and again. the last cut makes it, and he leaves the piano to something else — the instruments that don’t fail him when hands are against the tufts of hair balled up amidst frustration.

it sounds mismatched, mangled. (he doesn’t care.)

and he moves to percussion, the process that’s always been the status quo from one move to the next. there’s a charming point in trap, and he doesn’t fit the bill, slotting creativity into place when there’s the baseline of drums involved.

his foot taps against the ground, confused in the off-match haze of differing rhythms. rather, he fixes himself with another swig of the iced coffee now melted in the corner of his desk — the brass adding another color to the track void of any lyrics.

and he thinks to the time where he’s been the artist without any words. without any restraints freeing the built up frustration and animosity inside his soul — now, it’s only the beats of the piano mangled with the percussion hitting every other beat. but it doesn’t last long, no. not when he takes the latter part of the track and puzzles it to something new. revs up the drums for a hit of a party, something that breeds the excitement he no longer has.

he takes a listen, a playback — it sounds rudimentary at best. nothing complex until the bass hits, but some sort of charm escapes between each strike of chord, and leaves it ringing loudly inside the surface of his heart. his lips quirk back into a smile: minute satisfaction, and he collects it.

when inspiration strikes him in the middle of the fervor, he takes it. runs with it, and make does with what he can (sometimes it doesn’t last long, and it leaves his mind barren without time to collect the pieces once more. savor it while you can.)

what he starts off is the beginnings of a song, one he mismatches to the current state of affairs. because now, the mantra is clear: middle fingers up.

the first three words sprawl across the page, and he capitalizes it. makes it bold. loud and clear as the blueprint to navigate each and every lapse of time that passes. instructions, he wants to send out to the world plagued by second-hand guesses, and the constant battering of what others think — they should stop, and so should he.

he adds in the jingle, humming to the tune the playful childhood fable-esque melody. it’s morbid at best, the juxtaposition of the lighthearted tune ridden by the resenting animosity he hangs to his chest. the feeling never goes away, no. not when he wishes for it, turning and tossing inside late night sleeplessness. there’s no sleep in seoul, so be it.

middle fingers up thumb, index finger, ring finger, pinky fold them and lift your middle finger up raise it, twirl it, play with them now just eat this, fucking eat it.

what his mind jumps to next, all tongue-and-cheek spurred by the sudden enjoyment that music sparks in him. god, when was this feeling last felt? he couldn’t tell you. all that he knows is that euphoric highs from the fun of writing a verse becomes insurmountable to any fleeting joy of here and there. the affairs of the company — shit. the affairs of his own personal life — shit. business comes in brushed shoulders, mediocre handshakes in coy smiles yearning for a hidden meaning. gyujeong tries to decipher each one as a sham, name-calling to yank their strings into place for a climb up the ladder of the fame that trails eight years and counting.

the conversation becomes a humorous one — painted in cheap laughs and even cheaper innuendos. get the number, and call it a roadmap for the tempest tides for five minutes of famed. gyujeong makes his answer clear: why? he’s never been second-dipped inside the tides pulling him from one hot name to the next, his name clear in the headlines only fuel to add onto the taste of an image bc’s crafted for him. laughter. it spills from his lips.

what did you just say kid? we’ve met before, you say what — no we haven’t. i’m close with your friend. so what? you ask, can you give me your number so we can have a drink together sometime? but why should i give you my number? who the hell are you?

he doesn’t know them, they don’t know him. the feeling’s not mutual, shit if it’s ever been. it’d be a lie, and his lips tainted with poison if he gives in to the facades of each soul that wants to reap the benefits without climbing down the wayward journey all the way up — nothing’s all the way up. not then, not now. (has it ever been?)

collective thoughts and privacy becomes uncertain, rare. something treasured and pocketed away to the confines of his own bare bones. he craves one thing: anonymity. that sort of shit becomes priceless halfway through an aged careers — his private matters stowed away, picking up the specks as time passes for he’s never begged for more. the circle around shrinks as the years go, half-hearted smiles burned to the ground as he loses more and more of the dignity scraped away by the schedules and people he’s brushed shoulders with.

he likes it that way. likes two real friends rather than a cesspool of empty hearts and laughs that bear nothing more than the coins clinking into their bank — no more drama. no more stories. no more shit to put up with when he doesn’t become the victim of everyone’s embittered war.

talk, alarms, lock, sns are all on private my ever-shrinking personal and social relations it ain’t nothing. no more meet-ups with people, no more stories no more drama, just straight to the last episode

and if they want to catch him, they better while they can. he’s sure to slide past the void of their fingers clasped against each other and chung gyujeong stands from the other side in a cocked grin waiting at the top with the answer to their question he can’t give them an answer to. then again, when has he ever conveyed an answer to their dead-end questions, nor spared any time to give in to the temporary pains of a broken timepiece. genuineness is lost in the world — lost when he’s tethered to bc.

follow me until you reach the climax what’s real? what’s fake? i don’t know.

the fingers type away the verse — he makes note of a few things (repeat the chorus, italics of the chorus. the references, flipped and mashed back together for a coy play on words.) trust the creative process, and he’s floating along on the surface. tides turn into ripples, and suddenly — he’s left grinning ear to ear, smiling away with the middle fingers up.

when he returns to the studio, it’s the same way he’s left it. the bucket of laundry loaded in a corner, growing higher and higher by the day. the emptied out plastic cups, all lined perfectly across his desk with the screen blinking and the sounds of the desktop still running on edge with his lapse in judgement to shut it off the few days prior.

today, he has help — no big help, just the trusted staff in the room as his fingers motion forth to enter the dungeon he’s been subjected to for the past few years. gyujeong motions once more: take a seat, make yourself feel at home. it’s written in silent gestures, and he steps forward to the recording booth with his headphones sliding over his ears (this feels comforting, like second=nature.)

the staff involved today serves no input, no help. no standardized comment of what sells nor what’s written in the outlines of bc’s expectations. instead, it’s another set of hands — another set of fingers to press buttons when he knows the booth provides the pristine sound he wants to collect for the alibi of the song. a crystal clear voice, no longer stumped by the background noise fiddling out from the lack of soundproofing. here, he’s able to relay the lullaby he writes for the masses encroaching deeper into dangerous territory.

it starts with the chorus, the starting of the song. his hand waves past the recording glass, signaling the start of recording as the beat plays in the background — his phone’s already snug in the other, posed in front of him with the lyrics loud and clear.

and it’s his voice that relays the rest. gritty, slurred. no real pronunciation when it poses itself as a near whine — nearly flirtatious it takes when he hears the playback. (he guesses, it’s the effect of having fun with music again). there’s no idea how this will progress, no expectations then again. so, he continues on when the beat plays and he starts the verses — it toys. plays into the push-pull of lilting his voice in a mediocre taunt.

an ode, disguised as a taunt. or flipped and reversed, he still doesn’t know.

still doesn’t get it by the time he’s back after a full-stomach, leaning back into his chair. no more clicks nor a staff to help, it’s him against the computer screen pulling and yanking different filters with the snaps of the mouse. the vocal stabilizes, little need to refine and tune the voice into key. he adds in extra embellishments, things he’d never use as a play into the new break. when has he become the nomad adventuring out into unknown territory? he couldn’t tell you, only knows the high-tide fun that comes from horns and alterations buzzing out the verses then into the chorus. the movement, and piecing together of a complete piece.

here, there’s no missing pieces. just a full track that checks off satisfaction.

#fmdverification

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aubrey-plaza · 4 years

Note

I've seen a lot of fic rec lists lately given everything happening. Do you have any recommendations to get us through the lock down? p.s. I love everything you write.

omg thanks anon!!

I know these are scary times so have here a quick and dirty list of my fave fics starting with Staubrey and then just... veering offcourse. They’re all femslash except the one I marked with an asterisk but yeah.

as always, I’m not gonna rec my own fics on my this list bc that’s cheating but if you wanna read them pls click this link and that ends the self promo for today lmao

recs under the cut!

Stacie x Aubrey

Snowbound

by ACamp_toner / @stepintotherevolve (22.171, complete, rated E)

summary: The Bellas go on a ski trip and Staubrey happens

notes: this has amazing smut and features just enough jealousy to spark these two idiots into a meaningful talk. there’s also side bechloe and a healthy dose of humour.

The Howl

by @tiny-maus-boots (30.739, wip/currently being written, AU)

summary: Stacie's pack is forcing her into a corner but Fate has other plans for her - if she doesn't die first.

notes: werewolf!Stacie and vampire!Aubrey who meet on a full moon and fuck. there’s more to it and a great backstory that’s being wonderfully developed (trust me, I’ve been told of the plans and I’m ri-ve-ted). also has some amazing soft moments and a fab spark of heat.

Prelude in Lydian Mode

by knappster / @ss-staubrey (5972, complete)

summary: Remember tonight... for it is the beginning of always.

notes: I will rec this fic til the day I die. It’s such a lovely brand of staubrey and a perfect example of the idiots to lovers trope.

and the songbirds are singing (like they know the score)

by angelranger (2326, complete)

summary: It came as a slight surprise to Stacie that Aubrey, the same Aubrey who had grown up in a strict and dysfunctional household, was just so good with her daughter.

Bella seemed to unearth a side of Aubrey that was just so unbelievably soft, a side Stacie is almost positive even Aubrey didn’t know existed. But there she is, sat on the carpeted floor in front of the coffee table, sat right next to Bella, drawing outlines for the four year old to colour in.

notes: oh god i love a good, soft bella fic and this one hits all the right notes. it’s sweet and lovely and features singing Bella to sleep which is like. my weakness. go leave some more love on this deserved fic!

Sansa x Margaery

The Crackpots and These Women

by Netgirl_y2k (8089, complete, WEST WING AU)

summary: "You're in charge of press relations," Yara told Margaery, gesturing to Sansa. "Relate.”

summary: yeah you read that fuckin right that’s a West Wing AU. My love for this mashup has no bounds. It’s so perfectly coy, the way I imagine adult Sansa and Margaery would be, combined with the hopeful tinge of WW, and the pining of a somewhat open ended yet hopeful finish. If you like either of these universes, read this.

Kind Regards

by MsCFH / @hell-much (9835, complete, explicit, part of a series!)

summary: Margaery Tyrell is determined on setting foot in the Northern market of Westeros by establishing a collaboration between the Tyrell Corporation and Stark Incorporated.

The only problem? The likewise gorgeous and stubborn Deputy Managing Director Sansa Stark.

summary: holy hell this fic is amazing. they hate each other SO MUCH. the author has a vibe setting skill that makes me want to weep. the smut is off the charts hot like there are literally no words. go read it and then read the series bc it’s *that good*. please go get your church lady fan before reading because you WILL need it.

EXTRA NOTE: same author is writing a post-s6 canon compliant fic where Marg is actually still alive and if you’re looking for a full weekend activity, go ahead and binge this one (it’s a wip but is still being updated)

lay all your love on me

by 1once (9498, complete, show-compliant)

summary: It has been eight years since her demise.

But for the world of her, she cannot figure out why. For what? Why was she alive?

notes: i will say just one thing: flower. magic. okay, i’ll say more things. this fic is the redemption show!marg deserved combined with the fun supernatural magicky aspect of flower magic that’s just so in character. reading this fic feels the way a warm cup of tea in your hands on a cold winter’s day does.

til you come back home

by heart_nouveau (7978, complete, AU - modern setting)

summary: “Using one-night stands to distract myself from my crush on my roommate counts, right?”

Margaery Tyrell is an ambitious law student who needs a perfect grade point average if she wants to stay at the top of her class - and she is not going to throw that away by falling for her very attractive, very sweet roommate, one Sansa Stark.

notes: margaery is a moron with feelings aka my favourite type of character.

Birds of Prey’s Dinah x Helena

Siren Call

by ThanksForListening (3300, complete, part 2 of a series)

summary: "It always happened in the quiet moments. The early hours of the morning, when the leftover energy from a mission hadn’t quite disappeared yet. The sleepless nights, when memories clawed their way into her mind and wouldn’t let go until her screams released them. The lazy afternoons, when the radio played softly and melodies she’d almost forgotten danced around her lips. It was only when the world went still that Dinah felt her watching.

She didn’t remember the first time she noticed it. The staring. Maybe it was because Helena was always watching everything and everyone around them that Dinah didn’t realize how frequently that attention fell on her. How it felt different. Helena looked at the world with suspicion and anger and indifference, but not her. She looked at her with something much softer, something she hadn’t found a name for just yet. No word in her arsenal was deep enough or strong enough to describe it.

Whatever it was, she could feel it now.”

notes: gahhhhh this fic. “What do you see,” she finally asked, “when you look at me?” is a line that I’m gonna think about until the day I die. this is the second fic in a series and you can read it as a standalone but the first fic is also fuckin amazing

after the afterparty

by novoaa1 (1181, complete, set right after the movie ends)

summary: The Canary had let loose a delighted snort at that, as if she found the whole thing somehow laughable.

(Which it wasn’t, to be clear—laughable, that is.)

“Are y'all seeing this shit?” she’d turned to ask the rest of them, earning a giddy squeal from Harley and a bemused scoff from Montoya even whilst Helena remained stock still in place, dutifully blinding herself with one hand. “Absolutely adorable.”

“Shut up,” Helena had hissed back more out of instinct than anything else, though her tone was markedly devoid of any real anger.

(And if Helena had felt her cheeks flush ever so slightly beneath her palm at the Canary’s glib assertion, she certainly didn’t let on.)

Or: Sionis falls. The rest of them remain.

notes: just. read it.

knew your love (before i kissed you)

by z0ejake / @zxyjxy (58.263, wip / currently being written, rated E for the last chapter)

summary: Surviving the massacre of your entire family at the age of eight is a pretty impressive feat. Training for fifteen years in Sicily until you can kill a man with one hand and a hairpin is also a pretty impressive feat. Returning to the city where your family was cut down and killing every single person involved in their deaths is maybe the most impressive feat. Somehow, it's never been enough for Helena.

notes: bro this fic is a masterpiece and zoe is a genius. features absolute moron feral dumb jock helena and my favourite version of dinah: patient and endeared and a little teasing.

the war is over (and we are beginning)

by ace_verity (12.573, 5/5, complete)

summary: The thing is, Helena has no idea what comes after.

The past fifteen years, she’s had a singular goal. She's never given any thought to what she’d do once she killed the men who murdered her family in front of her.

Maybe, Helena realizes, she never actually thought she’d make it this far.

—

In which Helena Bertinelli joins a team, buys a cactus, beats up criminals, goes to church, bakes bread, and falls in love.

(Not necessarily in that order.)

notes: this fic is beautiful and perfectly explores a lost Helena. I also love the way Renee is written in this and the whole vibe of the story is just *chefs kiss*

cheap shampoo

by OfElvesAndAliens (1609, complete)

summary: The thing is, Helena is a rigidly focused kind of gal, iron rage forged into skilled precision. Dinah has also noticed it in the little things, like the way she frowns a bit when she's doing something as trivial as writing, her penmanship always neat and firm. That same tiny furrow of her brow is showing up again while she's methodically whisking some eggs in a bowl.

Dinah finds it cute. Fucking sue her.

notes: oh god but i love a bedsharing fic and this one? feeding and post-mission and just winding down together??? ohhhh my god

two extra random goodies just for fun:

Lamplighter

by the_years_between_us (116.915, wip, rated E)

show/ship: The Fall, Stella Gibson/Reed Smith

summary: Stella gets a call from Reed directly following the final episode of The Fall S3.

notes: this is one of only a handful of wips that I’m keeping up with and reading constantly. It’s written like goddamn poetry and I love an older ship with more baggage, because the emotions here run so much higher with their shared history and the tentative steps they’re trying to take. Also, given the source material, this is almost cathartic to read.

Nothing to Lose*

by tielan (8013, complete, rated E)

fandom/ship: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Maria Hill/Steve Rogers

summary: “It’s one of the traditional rituals of manhood,” Natasha observes as they’re sparring. “Kill a man, fuck a woman.”

notes: listen. i know. okay? i know this seems like a crackship. but I love it SO MUCH and this author writes so well that I’ve been fully converted. ~something some of you have told me I do for you~ so go read this fic, and then read the others, and then fall in love and join me in this lonely ship. You won’t regret it.

I’ll be writing while in isolation so if you have any Dinah/Helena or Stacie/Aubrey prompts, shoot ‘em my way!

and also hit me up for anything, as always.

peace and love, and stay safe everybody!

#fic rec #shoutout to anybody I may have missed bc I wrote this in a hurry <3 #anonymous #anon #ask

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maxgrayarchived · 4 years

Text

40,000 Words Nano Update

ABOUT THE PROJECT

For whoever might not know, my nano project this year is a fanfic for the Sanders Sides fandom called Superkids.

When Virgil is granted the power to control shadows, he decides to use it to protect kids being abused like him. His dad and over enthusiastic boyfriend, Remus, have other ideas. As Virgil slowly finds himself becoming a supervillain and diving deeper into his own anger, Patton, Roman, and Logan make it their responsibilities to stop him.

Trigger warnings for abuse, violence, gaslighting, manipulation, misgendering, and mild transphobia from unsympathetic characters

WHAT’S BEEN HARD

Catching up. I was pretty decently ahead for the first week or two of nano, and then a few busy days happened, some writing fatigue hit, and suddenly... I was like 10,000 words behind or something.

That writing fatigue has kept itself going strong, which made catching up even more miserable... But I’m happy I did it. To be honest nano is a dangerous game because huge word counts are pretty easy for me, so the regular 50,000-in-a-month thing is pretty easy, but if something like THIS happens, it makes finishing nano really hard, and I know how much shit I’ll give myself if I fail nano. I would feel really bad and it would take a huge toll on my confidence and mental health. But completing nano is always a huge boost, so... Like I said, dangerous game.

And I’m not only happy I caught up for that reason, but just because I was pushing myself to write about 3000 words in a day before and now I can relax back into the normal 1667, which makes it so much easier to get lost in the scene (read: not easy, but easier. writing fatigue, remember?)

Let’s just say I’m excited to reach that 50,000 mark so I can take a break and edit this monster

Fight scenes continue to be a struggle. I’m also excited to finish the 50k so that I can go through and outline all my fight scenes. I remember finishing a really hard one, and then going to see what the next chapter had in it and it IMMEDIATELY jumped into another fight scene. Huge sigh. (I fixed that a bit btw bc I know that’s shitty pacing)

MY FAVOURITE PARTS

I SAID IT ONCE AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN: ROMAN AND PATTON ARE FUCKING PRECIOUS.

They are platonically in love with each other. Okay? They’re so fuckin *clenches fists* in love. I love writing how they interact and how they treat each other and just little things like that.

When Roman got to his room, Patton was already in bed and watching cartoons. He paused it and sat up. His pale belly was hanging low out of his short sleep shirt, his hair mussed from laying in bed. Roman smiled.

“Are you feeling okay?” Patton asked as Roman turned off the light and crawled into bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’ll just be sore for a few days. Probably good by the time auditions roll around.”

They turned the show back on and laid down, Roman with his head on Patton’s belly and arms wrapped tight around him. As Patton fell asleep, and started snoring, Roman was, for the millionth time, reminded how lucky he was to have Patton as his best friend.

Another repeat from last time, but Roman’s relationship with his mother and Patton’s with his dad remains one of my favourite things. Ophelia and Kyung are doing their best and even though Patton and Roman are chaotic they just love them so much and they just want them to stay safe, damnit.

Oh! Playing around with their powers is really fun- At one point Nightmare gets a shadow sword. Just for one scene, but that was a cool idea that made the fight scene a bit more interesting to write. I also hit a breakthrough with both Roman and Patton’s fighting style, which is really helpful, especially when Patton can’t really turn his powers into an offensive (however! i literally just wrote the scene where Patton learns an areal attack, so he should be able to use his powers in fight scenes real fast!)

HOW I PLAN TO IMPROVE

Mostly by making writing most days a habit. I’ve settled into a nice rhythm of coming home from work, eating, and then writing for a few hours before hanging out with my sister. That should work for a few weeks.

I’m also trying to just make myself happier? My depression is not making this easy. I put in my two weeks at work yesterday, and I have another, better job lined up just as long as I get my driver’s license. So I’m going to do THAT as soon as humanly possible lol. I’m hoping to have the license by the end of December, have Christmas break to spend with family and writing, take a little break from work... (they don’t actually need me until January)

That was a little messy ramble but whatever.

Before I go, I also made this character aesthetic for Virgil:

Alright! See you at 50k! Aaah!

Writing updates tag list:

@impossiblelibrary @writinginslowmotion @lucifer-in-my-head

#writeblr #nanowrimo #amwriting #maxgraybooks

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pleasurextreasure · 5 years

Text

❜cutlass (19/?)

genre: Aristocrat!reader x Pirate!Jeno, ft. NCT Dream

warnings: all nct Dream members are above 18+, multi-chapter, swear words here and there throughout fic

word count: 1.3k

prompts: in which Jeno is cursed to live for three more years and only loving someone and expecting nothing in return can break it

a/n: have i mentioned that Renjun is my fav in this fic, bc he is ➵admin kiki

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | Current

Ξ r e q u e s t Ξ

As your body slipped into the darkened waves, Jeno could only stare helplessly at the spot you had been standing in only seconds ago. All sense of motion seemed to rid itself from him as he numbly looked at the empty space. The raw emotion he was feeling in the area behind his rib-cage was burning through him and it was painful to breathe.

He tore his gaze away from the spot to look at his crew member and the cursed creature that was latched onto him. He drew out his cutlass, tightening his grip until his knuckles hurt. Killing this Siren seemed like a great therapeutic way of ridding some of his anger. The young Captain willed himself to step forward, stalking towards the duo until he was behind them.

Raising his cutlass, he slashes the creature's back, earning an ear-aching shriek and the satisfying view of it crippling to the floor. Haechan staggered forward, one knee hitting the floor as he steadied himself. He looked back, gazing up at his savior.

"Captain, I..." Haechan's words were lost, similarly to the memories of the previous events. His mind was blank and he couldn't remember what happened after seeing you and Renjun. "Where's Y/N and Renjun? I saw them and then... and then what?"

A bitter taste seeped onto Jeno's tongue at the innocent-like question. His lips pursed together for a brief moment before answering, "Sirens got them."

Despite the calmness in his voice, Haechan could tell how anxiety-driven his friend was. The subtle clasping and unclasping movements his fingers did as they adjusted their grip on his weapon, paired with the sharpness in his eyes was proof enough.

"Are you alright to get up?"

Haechan stands, wordlessly giving his answer. "Are we going after them?"

"Of course we are." Jeno's sharp answer makes him flinch back. "We have to gather the others - find Mark first, since he needs to steer the ship into the island."

Haechan's eyes widen at the statement, "We're close to the island already, do we need to go any closer than this? We can use a dingy, no?"

"Too dangerous." Jeno immediately shoots down the idea. "The waves look to be higher than our heads, and we don't know how many of them are surrounding us."

The brunette scowls, wondering why he didn't think of the obvious. He wipes away his wet bangs, casting them to the side to relieve some of his blindness that was caused by the unrelenting downpour. The distraught look Jeno holds doesn't seem to lessen with the passing time and Haechan merely reaches out to him, grasping his shoulder with a light yet firm grip.

He waits until his Captain looks at him before offering a smile, "You can depend on us, Captain. We'll get them back in no time."

=======

You awoke with a start as your upper body sprang forward, resulting in a sudden rush rising to your head. You gingerly grasp it, willing for the pain to go away. It's only until you hear Renjun's voice that you finally take in your surroundings.

"Y/N, are you alright?" his voice is thick with worry, but with the way his voice shook, you could tell he was worrying over more things than just you. He crawls over to you, wincing in pain while doing so. "Here, let me check for injuries."

You raise a drenched hand to gently stop him, muttering that you were fine. "Did you get hurt?" From the way his eyes were squinting, you could tell he had subdued to some sort of injury.

"Ah, just a scratch on my leg." He responds in a soft tone. "Nothing to fret over, it isn't too deep."

"I'm relieved." You sigh out. You look around the area, finding it to be a cave. Your inner core shook at the memories of being dragged into the murky waters by one of the Sirens. "We need to find a way out."

"I'm with you on that, but it's too dangerous to just wander in here. We don't know what could be lying ahead." Renjun explains before pulling himself up, grunting in the process once putting weight onto his injured leg. He twists towards you, offering his hand to help you rise to your feet.

"We can't stay here waiting around either, though." You reply back, pointing towards the opening of the cave. "I don't know where that leads but I think it'd be best to go through it. I'm sure Jeno and the others have noticed our absence by now, right?"

There's hesitance in Renjun's voice as he responds, "...You're right. They're probably on the other side, already waiting for our slow asses."

You give him a pursed-lip smile before stalking over to the entrance and ultimately walking through it, now finding yourself in a narrow passageway. You raise your hand towards the damp rock wall, trying to find some guidance during your path.

"Here, let me take lead. If there's something dangerous ahead, I can take the brunt of the attack." He whispers, gently tugging at your ripped blouse to halt your movement.

You allow him to pass by and take your hand in his as guidance. You both walk for what feels like an eternity down the passageway, always halting whenever there was a noise that sounded too close for comfort. During this time, your own body had been shaken with nerves and you were sensitive to the coldness of the atmosphere, a course of shivers running through you once in a while.

You finally arrive into another closed-off area, with the only light source coming from its ceiling. Looking up, you found that this seemed to be the only way you'd be able to exit out of this place. The rays of light that shone through the opening cascaded over a small pond that was in the center of the room.

"Ah, have you finally awoken?" The sudden voice is melodic - soothing, even.

Renjun and you look around, trying to find its owner. He points to the pond, "Look over there."

The area above the water begins to shimmer with light, and its surface begins to ripple as if being stepped upon. You blink, not believing the sight unfolding before you. The glimmers of light began to group together, forming the outline of a person. A bright light followed, and you shut your eyes in response to the sudden brightness. As you slowly opened them again, you were amazed to find a woman standing there. Standing was the wrong term to use, as you were quick to notice that she was actually floating on the water, her toes merely touching the surface.

"That... That's," Renjun was at a loss for words at the woman's sudden appearance, much like yourself.

"It's a pleasure to have you here, Renjun and Y/N." You suck in a breath at her words. Who - or more appropriately, what - is she? She was far too beautiful and ethereal to be real, but your gaze that was focused on her proved otherwise. "I am Moira."

You instinctively huddled close to your crew mate, and reach for his arm. "Renjun, do you know who she is?"

It took some time for his words to pry their way out of his constricting throat. His body wracked with nerves whilst answering you, his eyes momentarily clenching tight with the fear that was beginning to overwhelm him.

"It's the Sea Witch."

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

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If you would like to be tagged for updates, just ask!

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emercld · 4 years

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⟨ *.:｡┊ — Emerald Scott : Career. ⟩

“Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind, is written large in his works.” — Virginia Woolf

up to 30 short stories published in different magazines / websites (and counting bc she still writes and publishes short stories from time to time)

gramma : a small boy has to stay home alone to keep watch over his bedridden grandmother, who he's always been scared of. As the story progresses, we find out he has good reason to be afraid. ((mentions of abuse))

the raft : a group of four friends go night swimming in a lake, only to get trapped on the wooden raft by a mysterious creature. ((supernatural , suspense))

nona : from prison, an unnamed man recounts his life as a college dropout who met and fell in love with a beautiful girl named nona, while aimlessly hitchhiking on a snowy winter's night in maine. that night, the narrator is seduced by nona into murdering several innocent bystanders. ((gory descriptions))

the library policeman : tell of sam peebles, who pushed by supernatural events in his hometown library is forced to battle an age-old fear and traumatic events from his past. ((supernatural , mentions of abuse))

autopsy room four : howard cottrell awakes from some form of unconsciousness to find himself laid out in an autopsy room. after realizing that he isn't dead, howard deduces that he is in a paralysed state. howard tries to somehow inform the doctors of this fact before they cut into him. ((suspense))

remember me : written in letter form , a woman recounts her last night of passion with her lover as she bids him goodbye. at the end of the letter, she reveals herself as a demon who’s laid eggs inside of him. ((supernatural , very nsfw , gory descriptions))

it lives in the woods (2013)

a group of kids played with a creature in the woods until one of them disappeared. as teenagers, they find out he’s back thanks to a serie of supernatural events affecting them and everyone in town.

first novel em got published (she was 18)

she had been working on that and building onto her manuscript since she was 15.

even when she had already published lots of short stories people were a lil hesitant to gamble on a whole ass book by a fairly young girl and ilitw was rejected 27 times before she got a deal

got into the new york times best selling list though and was praised for the intricate plot and maturity of her writing

lots of supernatural elements and gory descriptions

the haunting of brainwood mannor (2014)

a woman goes back to the house where her brother died when they were kids and realizes there were far stranger things in that place than she remembered.

not her finest work, it was finished but it just wasnt ... emerald level of finished. not all can be winners right ?

she was rushed to publish something to ride her first book’s tail so she gave them this one rather than the book she was working on (see below) so she’d have more time to work on it

she’d like to rewrite it again sometime but let’s be real... she probably won’t, even when she has rewritten snippets of the novel corrected in her notebooks

something between a short novel and a long short story

supernatural and psychological horror

we don’t talk about this book

the analyst (2016)

'happy fifty-third birthday, doctor. welcome to the first day of your death. you ruined my life. and now I fully intend to ruin yours.’ until the moment he opens the letter, new york psychologist dr frederick starks has led a quiet and, so he believes, blameless life. he has no idea why he's being judged by this unknown tormentor a former patient - who then lethally begins to demonstrate the potential of his, or her, threats. as the layers of starks's carefully constructed life are stripped from him, he quickly finds himself a powerless pawn in a psychopath's devious game of vengeance.

huuuuuge improvement from her last book

psychological thriller

it’s open-ended but em has never really said whether she’s planning on writing a sequel or not, even though she has the outline for it written in a notebook somewhere.

she wrote this book under the pseudonym poppy everhart so people wouldn’t associate it with her last book lol

it helped to it being a hit because she refused to give any interviews / do any tours so you know... mystery (plus the book is good mind you!)

the library of the dead (2018)

assigned to the high-profile "doomsday" serial killer case, fbi agent will piper is hitting dead end after dead end. the victims seem to have nothing in common: age, background, or even the way they die. all that connects them is a postcard each received in the mail announcing his or her date of death—all sent from las vegas, where a brilliant computer scientist leads a double life. just when agent piper finds a credible lead, he's removed from the case. continuing the investigation on his own, he must outwit a ruthless team of covert operatives from area 51 protecting the government's greatest secret. from a medieval monastery to a cutting-edge government laboratory, library of the dead delivers a richly detailed, thought-provoking exploration of fate, predestination, and the choices we make in life.

also written under her pseudonym (only very few people know she’s the author behind those two books)

sounds ridiculous. never ask her to explain the plot of her book lmao

the first of what was announced recently as a trilogy

she spent a year and a half just doing research for it as it has lots of historical elements, including visiting archaeological sites in europe and lots and lots of libraries

also lots of nsfw

she’s gotten offers from netflix to turn the story into a show but she refuses to hear a word about it until she finishes the books, and maybe not even then lol

#⟨ *.:｡┊ — career. ⟩#absolutely nobody needed this wow #but anyways #i decided to make some adjustments to her career so here we are #i think i'm actually pretty pleased with this #can you have an author claim? lmao #anyways the first two books are plots from a graphic novel app #third by john katzenbach #and last by glenn cooper #a Mind!#most short stories are by stephen king #i didn't choose anything 'iconic' tho lol

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trying-vee · 5 years

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11/11/11 tag

I was tagged by @trapped-inadystopianovel

Answer 11 questions, ask 11 questions, and tag 11 people

Here goes

1. Do you take inspiration for fashion in your WIP from the real world?

Yeah, I mean I’m not that imaginative when it comes to clothing, and Mila is currently wearing green scrubs bc she was doctoring Eight despite it being at least 100 years in the future

2. Youngest OC?

Mila - I picture her as being about 17

3. Oldest?

Of the main cast so far (and bc the last important OC is eluding me so far) Eight is the oldest at 24

4. What’s the world your WIP is set in like?

Very futuristic, multiple planets, aliens, a lot of varying levels of poverty and wealth and inequality. Some of the world are beautiful, nature-filled utopias, whilst others have become dead things, used only for mining resources. Earth has some areas that are lovely and green, but that’s mostly where the insanely rich live. Otherwise it’s apartment buildings, bad air, and crowding. It’s not looking good for those living there, and most are too poor to get off-world.

5. Short stories or novels?

I prefer novels.

6. One novel or a series?

Depends on how well-written it is, and if I can sink my teeth into the characters properly.

7. Do you listen to music while writing?

I’m ALWAYS listening to music.

8. What about eating?

My level of multitasking is pretty much god-tier (and by that I mean, I will do almost anything whilst writing, which is why I get nothing done)

9. Do you OC’s have any weird hobbies?

Being a boss of a tech-head, Mila’s used to working very quickly, so she likes to do calligraphy, because it’s something she has to go slow with.

Eight likes to bake. The softy.

10. How far are you from being done?

So. So far.

11. Page and word count.

Page 15, 8047 words.

11 questions

Do you tend to have large or small casts of characters?

What were your OCs childhoods like?

Do you outline your chapters?

Have you got any goals to hit?

How emotionally invested in your WIP are you?

What’s your preferred writing medium?

Do you write in chronological order, or just as the scenes come to you?

How in depth is your world-building?

What POV are you writing in?

Have you cried over your characters lately?

Most importantly: do you love your WIP?

Okidokes, tag time, and pls don’t feel pressured to do it bc I know I often like to get tagged but don’t necessarily want to do anything more than answer the questions

@death-over-coffee @caffienefuelsmywriting @scribble-dee-vee @leave-her-a-tome @endlesshourglass @embarrassingwriter @quillwritten @authordai @panticwritten @stirringink and @theliteraryarchitect

#writing #tag game #11/11/11 tag #silly rabbit #vee talks

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mannatea · 5 years

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Kent/Lyn, 12 & 35. Hector/Farina, 50!

Thanks for indulging me, but sorry it took me 90 years to get to it. ;P I made it extra long to remind you of the good ol’ days!!!

Kent/Lyn:

12. who do they confide in when shit hits the fan (besides each other)?

I feel like Lyn is the kind of person to have multiple go-to people, depending on the situation at hand.

She strikes me as an understanding and accommodating friend: there are some things that she just wouldn’t burden Florina with/that Florina might not be comfortable with discussing. Rank probably matters a little bit, here, because some issues don’t leave the room (or at least they stay only with the people in the room), like state secrets or the equivalent, but Florina’s perfect for regular friendship things (especially softer emotional discussions), reminiscing about the good old days, and some good old-fashioned harmless venting.

For angry venting, there’s always Sain and Wil. Sain is the right choice if she wants someone to get angry with her—you know, the supportive angry rant-with-you kind of friend who echoes your sentiment and allows you to have a dialogue with emotion! Wil is best if she wants a more neutral opinion/listener who will offer to help/give advice after the rant is over.

Depending on the setting, Wallace is a good choice for some ranting, too, but I love the thought of him being kind of like an uncle figure to her; he fills in some of the gaps about her mother she never really knew were missing, and had a real love for both of her parents that shows in the way he speaks of them; something she kind of holds onto because nobody else gets it.

Hector’s better for a sparring match than dialogue, but sometimes that’s what Lyn needs to get her mind off of things. I like to imagine he kind of ‘gets it’ when she needs to get out some frustration or something; it’s not anything she needs to talk about, but in absence of that, Lyn is the kind of person who still has to do something. If she’s looking for a word-fight she’ll go to him, too. He’s good for that, and he doesn’t (usually) take it personally.

Eliwood is a hard one to pin down, because it’s hard for me to imagine they’re really that close; I don’t think he ‘gets’ her the way most of the other characters do? He tries, though, and that counts for a lot. Also, he’s a lot like Florina in that he’s trustworthy: a good confidante. If Lyn ever needs personal advice (relationship or otherwise), I think Eliwood would be the right guy to go to for her. He wouldn’t tease or poke fun at her, and that information would NEVER reach anyone else’s ears. Ever. He’d offer diplomatic/polite advice with a smile and with an attempt to understand the situation and any important details first. He’s good at asking the right questions most of the time.

It’s been a long time since I deeply considered Lyn’s relationship to Hausen, but I think right now I’m sort of high-key imagining that they’re almost, like…fake-close? It’s not that they don’t love each other, because I think they do in their own ways, but being related or being interested in getting to know someone isn’t just a ticket to a close relationship. Not only do you have to want that, but you have to be compatible AND willing to take the time to cultivate what’s there. Lyn and Hausen both have tons of the latter, but I’m not so sure they’re compatible.

Her friendship with Kent still matters of course, so his place in this mix is probably a bit of everything, but he’s a high(er)-ranking individual she can confide in about information the others aren’t privy to…and he’s also a very good confidante (he’d rather die than betray her trust). She wouldn’t angry-vent at him too much because rather than just get emotionally hyped with her (Sain) or listen to her and offer calm, friendly advice (Wil), he strikes me as the type who wants to Fix It Right Now—even when that’s not necessarily the appropriate response. He may also kind of freeze up and Not Respond At All (when he doesn’t know how exactly he’s expected to respond), almost as a defense mechanism to avoid Responding Poorly.

–

Then you have Kent. Besides Lyn, he uh…really only has Sain.

But hey, that’s actually pretty much perfect for Kent. He’s never struck me as the kind of person who enjoys societal pleasure of any kind overmuch. It’s not that he finds it painful so much as maybe awkward? Most of his life has been in service and when he was younger and more impressionable—at the age where you learn to make friends and all that—he was more interested in impressing the adults in his life. Thus, he has only ever had one or two people to talk to about more important personal matters.

Again, it’s probably for the best. A couple of very serious and important relationships is about his maximum capacity. I don’t think he could maintain a slew of decent casual friendships (the way Lyn can), but also his bar for friendship and what constitutes a friend is very high.

Fiora is a good option for some general commiseration re: failure if he would bother to open up about it, but I don’t think either of them would do so easily. Still, they’ve both been commanding officers and I think that alone gives them something to talk about and discuss. I also feel their general morals line up, so if either of them need a rant about something other people would judge them for, they can go to each other.

Fiora and Sain are both great in that they would have Kent’s back if he needed it, so depending on how shit hit the fan, he could lean on either of them (but more easily on Sain just because that friendship has been years in the making; boon companions and all that).

He has decent relationships with some other people, though. I like to think he still looks up to Wallace, thinks well of Wil, and is on friendly terms with Florina, but I imagine his general acquaintances either stagnate or suffer because he’s not good at multitasking emotionally.

That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though.

(I didn’t really mention Farina because...eh. I enjoy their interaction and I love writing it, but without a lot of very meaningful buildup, I wouldn’t even consider them friends.)

35. do they have any regrets (regarding the other, or just in general)?

This is a delicious question and a perfect one for Kent and Lyn. Let’s assume their paired ending:

I always take the endings (paired or otherwise) with about a grain of salt. You know: more like suggestions!

Kent and Lyn’s ending makes a reasonable amount of sense (you may have noticed that some endings just don’t ring true to characterization), but it also manages to be ridiculously open-ended. I guess at least it’s “happy.” (Unlike Canas’s. Damn blizzards.)

Anyway, Lyn abdicates and/or never assumes the throne (I guess there’s wiggle room there), Caelin’s totally fine with being absolved into Ostia (you know this is gonna happen), and they’re so chill about this that they don’t even mind Lyn running off with a former vassal. Maybe they didn’t want her ruling in the first place?

Eh, who knows.

The wording leaves room for questions/interpretative differences and all that, but the basics of it boil down to: they both go to Sacae.

This means they both give up things to go there, but we can’t pretend Kent isn’t the one making the bigger/more obvious sacrifice. He literally gives up everything except Lyn. Which, okay, the scope of it isn’t easy for a lot of people to grasp, but like, imagine leaving everything you’ve ever known and moving somewhere else with what you can feasibly carry with you on horseback.

That might not be too hard. Lots of us have moved across a country or even overseas.

Now imagine doing this, but doing it knowing full well that you may very well NEVER AGAIN hear from the people you’re leaving behind.

And not just that, but you’re leaving everything familiar to you. You don’t know the roads, the trees, the shape of the land, the colors, the smells.

Let’s talk Best Case Scenario! Even if, in good ol’ Fire Emblem-land, where farmers can be knights and all that, Kent comes from a farming background, he’d have left that behind before age 10. Again, on the BCS track, let’s say he retained a bit of that knowledge! Great! He knows a little about living off the land!

But he doesn’t know how to do it the way Lyn might know how to do it. So we have to go back to Lyn. She’s still pretty young herself, and her culture was big on group work; it’s not like anyone did the big chores alone. So Lyn almost surely has at least basic knowledge of what to do/what needs done, but 1) never would have done all of it, because roles were outlined, and 2) after a couple/few years away from it, and without the chance to grow into her role as a woman within her society, how much of the really important survival stuff does she actually remember? (Some of this depends on how old you think Lyn is and if her society felt she was an adult; either way she wouldn’t have been an adult for very long IMO, not enough to function in her society as such.)

There’s tons of stuff to explore here!!!!

Lyn in Caelin has the same problem Lyn on the plains has: she still doesn’t get to become an adult the way she always would have imagined she would. Her culture isn’t dead, but with less than ten surviving people, the chance of it fully dying out within a generation is huge. She can pass some stuff on to a child, but not everything. It’s not the same. She’s going to have to mourn this, and it may not hit her until she’s out there again and the reality of what’s missing hits her.

She could join another tribe, maybe—in theory, it might be more complicated than that—but their customs aren’t going to be the same. Heck, they might not even speak the same (exact or similar) language. (Would they even accept Kent with her? This could be something Lyn is sacrificing to bring Kent with her.)

Anyway, Lyn gets a little of what she wants going back to Sacae (at least freedom), but she doesn’t get her culture back and she doesn’t get that lifestyle back that she misses.

Kent’s making the bigger sacrifice, though, because nothing about Sacae is familiar to him.

Depending on what they try to do and where they go, it’s really easy to imagine regret existing in little bits and pieces.

Kent strikes me as the sort to very rarely have *deep* regrets. He may oftentimes ‘regret’ doing or saying something, but the bigger decisions he makes are done with conviction and never with haste, so he usually stands by them and his heart allows him peace.

That said, there’s no doubt he has regrets. I like the idea of him having a few regrets about situations where OVERALL he feels he made the best choice, but the regret stems from the negative things that happened because of that choice (having to fight his former peers/allies/teachers, for example, or fleeing and leaving his men to possibly die when Laus attacked). You know, he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too, but he couldn’t have both.

And then we have his relationship with Lyn.

I bet he low-key would have regrets about going to Sacae after-the-fact. Not the *actual* going, and certainly not in loving Lyn, but in not spending more time with his family beforehand, in not being more prepared, not asking enough questions, not bringing more supplies, not learning more of the language(s), et cetera. So much can go wrong out there without a support system. Kent’s not stupid and he’s not helpless, but he only has control over so much, and accidents happen. If they ended up in dire straights and there was little he could do to help...or was even actively hindering progress, he’d blame himself and it’d be a whole mess where he feels like he can’t contribute and he’s worthless, and then he’s depressed and miserable.

Lyn surely has regrets in general (re: her culture and her parents and all that), but I don’t think she regrets anything deeply easily (something she kind of has in common with Kent). It usually takes a lot for her to get that lingering gut-wrenching regret feeling. But you’d better believe if Kent ended up miserable she’d feel it. She’d hate being the cause of anyone she cares about’s personal pain, but it’d be a little extra awful if she’s fairly content out there and Kent isn’t.

I rambled too much and my head hurts so I’m not sure if any of this makes good sense, but I think there’s a lot of room for regret within their lives and even their relationship—especially if things go poorly for them. Not the loving part, of course, but the part where they pursued something and because of that their partner isn’t happy anymore (or accepted anymore, or whatever).

Hector/Farina:

50. if one of them were to come back after a long time, who would come to who? would it go well? would the other person take them back?

The only one who would probably ‘come back after a long time’ is Farina, because Hector’s pretty much tied to his canton after the end-game, so I gotta go with that.

As to if it would go well or not, well, I’m pretty sure I’ve RP’d like 30 variations on this theme (LMFAO), but the biggest factors are: their relationship with each other, and time.

If Hector was kinda into her and she acted like she was fine with that and then flew off for 10 years and came back trying to act like nothing was wrong... Well, it wouldn’t go well. I mean, not at first anything. (Nothing a good RP couldn’t fix, though. :B)

At that point in time, though, for an example to work with, it’s hard to say if Hector would ‘take her back.’ He may be unable to do so officially (married, busy running a country that’s falling apart at the seams, he has a daughter to worry about) and/or emotionally unwilling to let her back in. (Though this depends a lot on their former relationship and how she left/if she ever wrote to him or visited, if feelings were confessed, a lot of what-ifs, tbh.)

It also depends on how lonely he is. It gets clear that Hector and Eliwood get super busy and don’t even get to see each other regularly after the end of the game, so it’s possible that Hector would desire contact with someone who Gets Him (or at least Gets What He’s Been Through). The FE7 endgame is pretty much the opposite of FE8′s: it’s like nobody even knew it was happening and they gotta go back to their cantons like they didn’t just fight a whole ass dragon; he might be happy to have someone he can talk to about that again (in the event that his former vassals may no longer be in his direct employ and/or Farina fought by his side that day).

#markoftheasphodel #answered mail #fe7 hour #long post #sorry binches i warned ya

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suspendrs · 5 years

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annual writing self-evaluation 2018

thank you @lululawrence for tagging me!! also i know nobody even really reads these things but i like to do them for my own reference year to year so if you’re actually interested in my answers they’ll all be below the cut!!

ALL FICS MUST HAVE POSTED ON AO3 IN 2018

1. Number of stories (including drabbles) posted to AO3: 7

2. Word count posted for the year: 231,933

3. List of works published this year (in order of posting):

thrills don’t come for free (feb. 1)

keep this love in a photograph (apr. 16)

it ain’t right, but isn’t it amazing (may 5)

there are no atheists in foxholes (june 12)

sugar in a plum (july 24)

satellite (oct. 5)

what’s inside your imagination (is as real as anything else) (oct. 20)

4. Fandoms I wrote for: one direction

5. Pairings: harry/louis

6. Story with the most:

Kudos: satellite (556)

Bookmarks: satellite (441)

Comments: satellite (53)

9. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

satellite, without a doubt. that fic took every ounce of my heart and soul and was absolutely worth every second i spent on it. i’ve never written something that took a mind of it’s own like that fic did, and it was so fun to be able to use myself as the mouthpiece for that story to tell itself.

10. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

probably thrills don’t come for free, only because it was something i wrote years and years ago and let sit in a folder for a rainy day, and i only posted it because i felt like i needed to get something up to remain relevant. that’s definitely a mindset i’m planning to leave in 2018 and i’m learning how to write and post for me and me only, which is a cool place to be in.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

from satellite (bc it’s freshest in my mind and this was the first thing that came to mind when i saw this question):

“If you’d told me a year ago that I’d spend the next year sleeping in the same place every single night, I’d have told you the only way that was possible was if I was in the ground,” he says. “People like me don’t get things like this.”

“There aren’t people like you,” Harry says quietly. “You’re the only one, and you’re so much more special than you’ll ever admit.”

Louis huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I hope you’ll always think that way,” he says.

“I will, because I’m right,” Harry says, sticking his tongue out at Louis. “I know the world has made you feel like excess, like you don’t have a place to belong, but that’s not true. You belong everywhere, in the sunshine, in gentle summer breezes, in soft snow flurries and in the color the leaves turn in the fall. You belong in the sparkle in the ocean and the sound of a birdsong, and I wish you could see yourself in all of those places the way that I do. You’re every cozy rainshower in spring and every electrical storm in summer, you’re everything, and the world’s done itself a terrible injustice making you feel any other way.”

(I actually turned that piece of dialogue into a sonnet for my poetry workshop class last semester that’s how much i loved it dsjdbssda)

12. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

honestly any and every positive and/or constructive comment tbh. my favorite comments are the ones that tell me exactly what and why they liked my work, and the ones that analyze and connect my work to their own lives. my only goal in writing and in having an audience is to mean something to someone, to hopefully string at least a couple of words together that change the way someone looks at the world, or at themself, or at anything, tbh. i just love being able to impact people in any way and i love being told how i made someone feel something or think something or realize something. that’s the good shit.

13. A time when writing was really, really hard:

writing is always hard, especially when you’re not sure that you’re writing what you want to be writing. i’ve been feeling the pressure to move away from fanfiction and onto original fiction, and i even started writing my novel last month, but i’m having trouble pulling away from harry and louis, even if my original characters are still just harry and louis with different names.

14. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

the entirety of satellite. like i said before, that fic wrote itself, and i was only a bystander. when i first got the idea for that story, it was absolutely nothing like the finished product. originally, it was just a short piece, something a little more witty and funny and disastrous in nature, but it turned out really deep and heartfelt and philosophical. i’m very very pleased with it, obviously, but it’s absolutely nothing like how i pictured it would be.

15. How did you grow as a writer this year:

i figured out how to let a story happen instead of making it happen, and it made all the difference in my writing. i think my new favorite method is going in with a loose outline and some key plot points and just seeing where the characters want to go with it, because that’s when the story feels the most natural and those are the stories i’m happiest with.

16. How do you hope to grow next year:

i hope to keep learning and growing and producing more things that i’m proud of, and i hope i keep losing my interest in the numbers and gain more interest in the process.

17. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

all of my amazing friends and their encouragement and all of the lovely people who left comments and sent messages to let me know they enjoyed my work are my biggest motivators so thank you everyone who’s ever said a single positive thing to me!!!!

18. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

i think that my writing is a pretty accurate documentation of where my head is at at any given time tbh. my work reflects me and my life at the time of writing and i think it’s pretty easy to track my highs and lows through the quality and content of my work lmao

19. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

don’t force anything. if you don’t feel like writing today, don’t. if you don’t feel like writing all week, don’t. don’t let writing become a chore, let it be a fun hobby and something you look forward to doing.

20. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

my fic for the dystopian fic fest!!! it’s coming along v well so far and i’m excited to see where it goes dbsjbjas. i also have a bunch of other ideas and i’m about 160k away from hitting a million words on ao3 so that’s my goal for 2019!!!

21. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@foolsholouday @harrytum @lesbianharrie @louwus and everyone else in the funfic gc i’m so tired i can’t remember everyone’s urls goondihgt

#twas a good year #i can't believe i wrote over 200k that's insane #granted satellite alone was half of that #but STILL #writing eval #tag thing

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 6 years

Text

Pairing: Gangrel x reader

Description: It was hard to look away from him. He wasn’t blinding but he gave off this warmpth, this glow; there was something about him that just made you love him.

Rating: sfw

Word Count: 1299

Notes: This was the first post on my blog... I know its been a while since I posted, but what can I say besides a bitch is busy :/ I’ve decided to go back and edit most, if not all, my work, starting from the start! I’m gonna set it to queue and likely shuffle it often bc there were times I was like “ahh yes time for x” lmao... hope yall enjoy seeing me again!

_____________________________________________________________

You sat comfortably, head spalid over Gangrel’s lap, eyes closed and barely still awake.With half open, tired eyes, you watched as he read a book, one you don’t quite remember the name of but he seemed to love due to the wear and tear it had. He was careful to not hurt you as his arm circled your head, his arm resting on your chest. His tiny, cherry red reading glasses rested on the tip of his nose, threatening to fall any minute.

“Hey Gangrel?” With the gentle hum of his name, he shifted his attention down to your bleary face.

“Hm?” he didn’t bother to close his book but he did push the reading glasses he wore up just enough to save them from falling but not enough to wear them properly. You smiled at the action, admiring how cute he looked with all his attention focused on you.

“I’m kinda hungry...” You dared to opened your eyes a little more, peering up him with a look somewhere between mischief and pity. “It sure would be nice to get something to eat...” You looked away drammaticly, rubbing your stomach for added effect. Gangrel peered right back at you, allowing himself a wide smile as he did so knowing full well what you would ask next. “Drive me to McDonald's?” Your laughter filled the air as Gangrel sighed drammaticly, marking his place by leaving the book face down on the coffee table before the two of you. You smiled up at him, not moving quite yet until he looked you in the eyes, smiling yet perplexed at whatn you had planned.

“I suppose, if you’re going to act like this...” He had to hold back a laugh at your antics.

“Thank you,” You sat up suddenly, taking his surprise as a chance to pulled him intoa big hug. He recovered and hugged back just as tight. The two of you pulled back, grinning at one another. Gangrel was the first to pull back, chucking before speaking.

“If we keep this up we’ll never make it, get ready.” He stood from the couch, moving over to the door to pull on a pair of beaten shoes. You followed, sliping on your own pair in preperation for the cool air outside. Your hands met naturally at you opened the door for him, a slight skip in your step as the two of you stepped outside.

It was dark and the chill of the upcoming winter made you glad you were wearing a sweater. Your hand that held Gangrel’s was still warm compared to the other and you found you didn’t want to let his go when you finally made it to the car. You parted, though, Gangrel moving to the driver side and you saying on the passenger side. The car was a little dirty, old trash being tossed to the back with cold bookbags and forgotten uniforms. Some of that garbage was probably yours anyways.

The two of you pulled out of the driveway and out into your neighborhood. You were surprisingly quiet despite how you had been before; you couldn’t halp but admire how the streetlights- ranging from dim yellows to stark whitesp- highlighted the contours of histanned face.There wasn’t much need for words, not when you could enjoy the quiet of the night around you both. Not that there was much night to enjoy; this time of winter, the only thing you could see before the bright lights in town were the vauge outline of trees if no other cars were out. With no streetlights on this stretch of highway the bright moon stood in stark contrast of the dark sky, the light it gave once more framing Gangrel’s face in a way you couldn’t help but admire. Even when you got into town, and the neon signs of fast food places and other stores came into view, you couldn’t tear your gaze from him.

You just felt so lucky to have someone like him with you-- someone you could have such comforting silence with pr such silly nonsense with like before. He was doing nothing, and yet your heart was beating wildly in your chest for him. You didn’t even know the words were coming out of your mouth until they broke the silence the two of you were enjoying.

“I love you so much,” He tore his eyes from the road a moment to gawk at you. The two of you had just turned into McDonald’s, and it was late enough that only the two of you were waiting at the start of the drive-through. The moment seemed to last forever, you realizing what words had left your mouth, Gangrel looking at you wide eyed and nearly dazed. Eventually, he found himself, a breath leaving his quietly as an easy smile crossed his features once more.

“I love you too, it almost goes without say.” He chuckled a bit, and everything just felt so natural and good, as if it had been the hundredth time the two of you has said this to each other and the paralying fear that passed through you a moment before wasn’t even real. “I can’t really say for how long it's been but… One morning I just woke up, with you in my arms and I knew I was the luckiest man alive. How could I not be, with an amazing person like you leading me to a better path in life?” And he gave you a smile so genuine, so sweet that all over again you feel in love with him. There was so much more you wanted to say, but you couldn;t find the words for it. You just smiled at him, emotion filling your gaze. Gangrel seemed to understand, moving the car forward to the drive-thru.“But now then, what do you want to eat?” You smiled and laughed a bit before telling him what you wanted. The food didn’t take long at all, in stark contrast to how long this moment between the two of you seemed to last.

“You make it so hard not to love you” Your words filled the silence again but you paused to take a sip of your milkshake. “Everything you do, everything you say to me… I can’t help but love you more.”

“I can assure you, _____, you’re far easier to love. The second I saw you, I knew you would have me wrapped around your little finger” He sent a little wink your way, but was careful to keep his attention on the road.

“The second you saw me? Are you telling me it was love, at first sight, you silly man?”

“Mm… well, perhaps it was the first time I heard you sing… Or maybe, it was when I saw you at rock bottom, only for you to continue fighting? There’s so much of you to adore.” You didn’t fight the growing blush on your face, and freely admired him once again.

“Well, I know for certain when I fell for you. You know people honestly use to think you were the worst… And how at first, I wouldn’t date you because of that?” He nodded slightly, a different light in his eyes as he glanced at you. “When I saw you genuinely trying to change, trying to be a better person and be kinder to those around you… well, that’s when I fell.” Your words trailed as you took a moment to recall when it hit you; when you saw Gangrel trying to better himself for the first time.

“You were certainly worth such a change, _____. I’m happy to be a better man at your side.”

“I’m happy to help you become that better man, Gangrel. I love you so much”

“I love you too _____.”

#my writing #gangrel x reader #fe awakening #fe gangrel #fe13 #feh #fire emblem heroes

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channiekyun · 6 years

Text

chick or chic?//cube ent./pd101//seonho

pairing: yoo seonho/reader genres: fluff, bullet list word count: 1870 summary: “he always stayed by you because of your smile, but what happens when the reason you lose your smile is him?” a/n: i think this is the longest thing i’ve ever posted but, dear by lord i love this boy. pls support him and his debut!!

baby chick debuting with a mini album?

an hour to write before I fall asleep?

bring it on.

ok,

you and yoo seonho have been friends since you were like 6 bc your moms both dropped you off at the same daycare center

how convenient right

but you haven’t met seonho ‘till a while so bear with me here

I like me some backstory to the story

you’ve been coming to the daycare center for 4 months

you were so-so at making friends, kinda shy, but most of the times energetic

like literal spikes of energy could be seen coming out of your back lmao

sometimes you’d be called out on it by some of the kids or supervisors but like

u didn’t care

anyway, you’ve pretty much gotten your name thrown everywhere in the daycare center

and you were just playing with blocks and crashing toy cars into them (that’s what kids do right?)

then suddenly some of or supervisors start coming to you with a cake with lit up candles

“happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear (Y/N), happy birthday to you!”

and your 6 yr old brain was all like-huh?

but then they told you to make a wish and you blew out the candles

and you know how things done can’t come undone?

well, there’s your explanation for that being done

and then everyone just started cheering

plus the supervisors were all like: “I can’t believe your already 6, (Y/N)! you’ve grown so much!!~”

but again you’re just like: “im already 6??!??”

but your 6 yr old self just thinks that this atonement for not celebrating your birthday before you even went to the center

keep in mind you’ve only been there for 4 months so

ppl kept crowding you and the adults just starting distributing the cake

and this boy that you’ve never ever seen before sits next to you

and he just whispers into your ear “it’s my birthday too.”

“oh really? it’s not even my birthday today anyway!” you giggle

and this boy’s like huh

but seonho doesn’t do anything

nuh uh

he likes it when you laugh and smile

so you share your big slice of cake with him and play with him the entire day

you guys got picked up at the same time so your moms were just waiting by the door and you were saying bye and your moms were like “isn’t that just cute aww”

then suddenly one of the supervisors came and started bowing

“I’m sorry Mrs. Yoo and Mrs. (L/N), we switched up (Y/N)’s and Seonho’s birthdays so we ended up celebrating (Y/N)’s birthday today!”

and your moms were just like “that’s fine” but Seonho just looked a tad bit disappointed

and an unhappy Seonho makes an unhappy you so

you started crying, legit out of nowhere bc you felt so bad for him

plus you started screaming stuff like “it’s all my fault” and yea

and the adults try calming you down, but no, that didn’t work

but then seonho comes up and hugs you

and you surely calmed down while you held to his shirt

you felt reassured

and the grown-ups found this amusing

like you only met today but who knew?

next morning you brought a huge cake+a gift for seonho to make it up to him (ofc with your mum’s consent though)

you tell him to open his present and he did

what laid inside was a chick stuffie

it wasn’t big or anything, just average

and seonho’s grateful and all but he asks why you gave him that

“because you remind me of one?” you laugh

he likes to think that that laugh was also a present for him

and you play with him for the rest of the day

fast forward, your moms became acquainted then soon began to hang out with each other

which made you happy bc you got to see seonho more

when you guys were still at the daycare center you would bring him food

like juice boxes

but then like juice boxes turned to chocolate bars and then that turned into muffins

fast forward a little bit more to where you were now, both of you 14 and in high school, and you were still close af

oh and muffins turned to legit rice lunches bc he never had enough to eat lol

and you called him out on it a lot and he would either act offended or not care at all

that’s where he got his love for food from~

there were a couple loose strings here and there but that happens

you shared secrets, shared friends, shared test answers

you even got close to his brother and he got close to your sibling(s)

but everyone knows there’s gotta be a secret here and there somewhere

but you made several plots at 2AM to get to the bottom of whatever he seemed to hide even though it may not be your business

you were each other’s businesses anyway, right?

anyway

seonho had a dream of becoming famous

you admired him for that

and the school was going to be hosting an event where he would be starring in

and you were proud and almost started shedding a few tears

you: *sniff* so proud~~

him: not again (Y/N)

when the day of the show came on, he acted like a stuck up celeb

and you weren’t sure whether this was all just an act, or if it was just him but you weren’t gonna have this

you pulled him out of the corridor and slapped him just for him to get his sense back+you also gave him his rice box so

during the talent show when seonho was performing with the piano and singing you were videotaping him while standing up

you: “yeS, WORK IT SEONHO. gUYS THATS MY BEST FRiEND” (a total regina goerge’s mom moment here guys)

you were that extra lmao that seonho was mixed abt what you did but he felt so happy so you just cuddled (non-romantically) at his house after the show

next morning, you were waiting for seonho out of his house so you could walk to school together

but oh

he JUST HAD TO WALK OUT OF THE HOUSE WITH A LEATHER JAckET INSTEAD OF HIS REGULAR OL’ CARDIGAN HUh ASDFGHJKL

((i tried to look up seonho in a leather jacket and there were no images, pls someone get him into one i will die omfg lord))

and you just walked like you usually do, but this time in silence and no hitting or kicking

was he acting cold again?

he wasn’t talking at all

and even ppl started to stare

you just kind of avoided him for the whole day

it’s the type of thing that would get on celeb headlines: ‘(Y/N) Splits From a Cold Seonho?!?’

you were walking down the hall just mindlessly, wondering what to do with that extra rice lunch you had in your bag

but then you hear a couple girls whispering in a corner:

“oh my god, did you see seonho at the show last night? he has so much talent”

“but like did you see him today? he’s wearing a leather jacket and acting all cold today haha”

“he even drove (Y/N) away today, and they’ve been friends since they got here”

“that’s pretty chic though to be honest lol”

and there were murmurs of agreement to the last girls statement

and once you got outside you started laugh

cuz they just started calling seonho “chic”

you never thought that you would’ve ever lived to the day where someone would call that tall, clumsy, cutesy boy something along the lines of “chic”

but you felt a pang of jealousy when the girl’s started talking about him

yes, you were aware of your own feeling, you weren’t stupid like that

you went to his house, said hello to his mom, and went to his room

you didn’t want to mess around with anything but there was one thing couldn’t keep your eyes off

that chick plush you gave him when you were 6

it was sitting on his bed

you picked it up and admired it but quickly set it down

on the high bookcase shelf there was another chick plush

so you reached for it and looked at it in your hands

it was the exact same one but with a bow? which makes you confused

“what are you doing?” you hear behind you

oh shit

“um-really nothing” you turned around to seonho still in his leather jacket

“uh, then (Y/N), why are you holding that?”

you dropped the plush on the ground

“holding what?”

seonho just looked at the floor, not responding

and naturally..

you took the opportunity to slap him

“why were you acting like that the entire day? why with the jacket, dude??”

and he looked up at you with honest eyes and quietly said “for you”

that’s when your entire world started crashing down

“..for...me.?”

“i thought that if i acted cool you’d like me better, I guess that didn’t work though..” his eyes still tracing an outline of the floor

“you acted cool, just so i would notice you more?”

“i guess.”

and naturally...

you took that opportunity to kiss him

and his eyes grew wide and he just hugs you like you usually would and it was all just so damn perfect

you pulled away and was all like “seonho, honey, I love you but can we get you into that cardigan instead of this stupid jacket”

and he just jeered at you with “I love you too (Y/N) dearie”

that’s how you went from making out with seonho in a leather jacket to cuddling on his bed with seonho in his oversized white cardigan (which was fckn adorable btw)

man, you would love having a relationship with seonho, anyone would tbh

you even spoon fed him the rice lunch you had packed in your bag

his mom would call your mom to tell you what the hell was happening at her house

you and seonho’s mom fangirling over your relationship with each other

at the next show, you and seonho had a duet with him playing the piano and you singing

he got you a matching leather jacket and you were like “ew no,” but after he saw your reaction he made puppy eyes and said “but couple’s outfits” and you just said “i’m sold, just for gags though, seonho”

a happy seonho

a beagle seonho

you match each other so perfectly bc if soulmates were real, and they are, you found your match

one time you were helping seonho catch up on homework in an empty classroom after school and you got curious

“hey, seonho, what was that chick plush doing on top of your bookcase. it looks similar to the one i gave you”

he blushed and shyly said, “i was going to give it to you for your birthday..”

and you just kiss him

and when you pull away you say: “I can’t believe they would call a baby chick chic..”

ps i realized how bad i was at summaries mianhae

#🎉🎉🎉HAPPY DEBUT SEONHO 🎉🎉#yoo seonho #seonho #ultkpop #produce 101 #cube entertainment #cube trainees #produce 101 season 2 #pd101s2 #seonho scenarios #seonho imagines #kpop imagines #kpop #kpop scenarios #seonho/reader #seonho x reader #fanfiction #produce 101 scenarios #broduce 101

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