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shyarowana · 2 years

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The Last Braid

(Tag: Izzy Hands gentle angst over Blackbonnet) [viewable on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/39021774]

***

“So you’re the new first mate.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact, an order, and - considering this was the legendary Captain Blackbeard - a threat.

"I am," Israel Hands said. He sat on one of two barrels he fancied as chairs in his new quarters, and they were the only pieces of furniture he owned beside a ratty, rope hammock in his sleeping nook. He was rather proud he had a room at all let alone one with three pieces of furniture.

"Interesting..." Blackbeard leaned in the doorway, the hall's lamplight casting against him an unearthly halo. The whites of his eyes seemed unnaturally bright, and the pair of gray streaks in his beard extended like bewitched tentacles.

"Is it?" Israel shot back, sitting a little taller on the barrel, though it would not add much to his height. Still, he would not let this captain think he was intimidated. He was not. He knew how to set fear aside for later. Now was not the time.

The trick was to not blink. A single blink could conjure a broken nose. A wavering gaze may result in a knife in the gut. Israel knew both of these lessons too well.

He took a breath. He took two. He'd be terrified later.

“Right..." Blackbeard rubbed the back of his neck. "What’s your name again?”

“Israel Hands,” Israel declared, defiantly.

Blackbeard snorted. “Israel Hands? Nah, mate, that's too serious. Let’s make it Izzy. Izzy's better right? Yeah...you're an Izzy.”

Israel...blinked. “Captain, I'm not sure-”

“Call me Ed,” the captain said, walking fully into Israel’s quarters with a quirky grin that made Israel's blood run cold from a severe lack of fear.

Absolutely not, Israel thought, physically swallowing the words back.

“Captain, I’m not sure 'Izzy' fits me.”

He hadn’t heard that name since he left home, long before he could grow a beard of his own. Even now he could hear his mother shouting from her forge, hammer striking against metal on that ancient anvil. "Izzy, ya got no mind for smithin', no mind for artistry. No strength. No finesse. What use are ya to this family? What good are ya, Izzy?"

“It does, and I like Izzy," Blackbeard decided. "Alright, Izzy, I have a job for you.”

There was no arguing this. And Izzy couldn't help but wish he could trap the words "I like Izzy" in a conch shell and listen to them in the wee hours of the night.

"What will you have me do, Captain?"

As he asked this he quickly realized this would be the first of many incendiary plans of Blackbeard's that Izzy would have to douse.

For there was a mad glint in the captain's eye, and the slow, toothy grin surfaced from his dark beard like a great white shark breaching midnight waters.

Captain Blackbeard told Izzy Hands the plan.

The whole plan.

And Izzy...blinked again.

Despite Izzy's failure at being a blacksmith's apprentice, the lessons his mother tried to teach him still followed him to this day. “The hammer must never strike blind. Some dents cannot be unmade.”

Leaving home was a dent he never wished to repair, but he refused to strike blind if it risked his captain's stellar reputation.

And soaking his new captain’s beard in lamp oil and setting it ablaze felt like a blind strike.

“It’ll be brilliant! Trust me,” Blackbeard said. "This merchant ship won't know what hit 'em! Well, they'll know it's me. Otherwise what's the point? They'll be like 'Ohh, mate, look at that! That's Blackbeard! We're fucked, I've gone and soiled myself.' And the other guy will be like 'Oi, he's got fire in his beard. Now I've soiled myself too.' And a third guy will be like 'Me as well! Ach, such a fright he gave me.' The whole crew, nothin but soiled drawers, because: Fire Beard."

“May I suggest,” Izzy said, carefully, “short fuses and a sprinkle of gunpowder? It should create a controlled explosive result, smolder steadily, and won't light your whole bloody face on fire.”

A long pause wafted off of Blackbeard like a cold breeze. He took several steps into Izzy's room and loomed easily over the new first mate.

Don't blink, Izzy thought, his eyes starting to sting. Show him you are fearless. Show him-

The sudden guffaw was as explosive as cannon fire. Izzy stiffened as Blackbeard slapped him on the shoulder. "That's fuckin' genius. I love it, Izzy. I'm glad Fang found us a creative type for some proper fuckery. Can't believe I was gonna light my face on fire. Your idea is way better."

Izzy cracked a small smile. "Creative, sir?"

Never had Izzy Hands been accused of such a thing. Not until now. Perhaps, the moniker Izzy would suit him just fine.

"That's what I needed on my crew. An artist in fuckery. That's you Izzy. You're gonna do alright here."

Izzy watched Blackbeard drag the other barrel in front of him and straddle it, sitting closer to Izzy than any man before him. The scent of leather and sweat, threaded with faint lavender, made Izzy's breath hitch and he coughed only so he wouldn't gasp.

It was idiotic to be this nervous. Fear felt more comfortable than this. He should be afraid of his captain. It would keep him sharp. But this...unease at those expressive dark eyes staring unblinkingly at him made his head spin.

"Better hop to it, Izzy. We got a merchant ship to scare shitless."

"Of course, sir."

"Ed," Blackbeard insisted.

"Captain," Izzy corrected, opening up his munitions cache to procure the needed theatrical props.

He gathered a few locks of Blackbeard's beard in his hands, his fingers tangling themselves clumsily at first as he fought to separate the tendrils into manageable braids. From this close he could smell beard oil scented like freshly cut lumber and soil dampened by rainfall. He imagined the captain massaging the oil into his beard every morning, stroking the bolts of gray hair, curling the thick locks around his calloused fingers, gathering it all up in his hands as if fluffing a pillow full of goose down. The freshly oiled beard would glisten in the morning light shining through the portholes and...

“Izzy,” the captain's voice was soft. Jarringly so. Softer than it had any right to be.

Izzy froze, three locks of beard hair in his hand, and a long fuse in the other. He hadn't realized his fingers were shaking.

“Ya gotta relax, mate. It's just a merchant vessel. We'll cut through 'em like sharp knives through soft Dutch bodies. I think they're Dutch. Probably...You're gonna do great.”

This would be the only time Izzy Hands lied to his captain: "Yes, I am nervous about that. You are right. Thank you, captain."

What else would he say? That the touch of his captain's beard would linger on his fingers for the rest of the day? That the aroma of that earthen beard oil would haunt his dreams? That his captain had repaired the damage inflicted on his childhood nickname with a few effortless words?

Izzy forced his posture to relax, his deft fingers braiding long fuses into Blackbeard's mane. He coated the tips with a little gunpowder and shaped the tendrils upwards like candle wicks. All the while he could feel those unblinking eyes gaze down at Izzy.

And Izzy wanted to look up.

But nothing would be more mortifying than drowning in such a gaze, to be sucked into the undertow of his increasingly compromised heart.

He wanted this position as first mate more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

This meant looking up at that gaze was not an option.

This meant tending to his formal duties was his only option.

Many years later, someone - that fuckin' twat - would describe Edward’s beard as “as soft as the finest cashmere”. It's meaning was unknown to a blacksmith's son, but whatever it meant, it was the wrong description. Blackbeard's hair was as dark as hungry coal in a cold hearth, waiting to be quenched by hellfire and bend the mightiest steel to its will. Yes, it was soft, but it was best comparable to a foal’s mane not yet ruined by harsh weather and a life of brutish labor.

Izzy dared to long for a brush. His kingdom for a comb. How sweetly the ivory teeth would sink to this beard like a mermaid disappearing beneath the surf.

“You’re good at this.” Blackbeard said, in that maddening tone too gentle, too non-violent.

“I’ve had practice,” is all Izzy would offer. He could have said he used to braid the leather wrappings of his mother's sword hilts and braid the tail of his family's work horses. He could have said he tried to meet the lofty expectations of a creative family and was a constant disappointment up until he left. But no one needs to know such details of his life.

They didn’t matter.

He was creative here.

He was a genius here.

Blackbeard deemed it so.

Blackbeard laughed suddenly. “Wouldn’t it be wild if you added a few silk ribbons to the beard too? Just a couple. Purple and black. Y’know, for a joke!”

Izzy paused, actually considering the adornments.

“No. No, you would look ridiculous. It'd tarnish the legend you are building for yourself. No one would want to see the great Blackbeard in namby pamby ribbons.”

Blackbeard didn't respond. It was puzzling how long that deafening pause was. What caught the captain's tongue? Yet, before Izzy could meet that dreaded gaze, Blackbeard huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, fuckin’ stupid. I was just joking. I don't even like silk.”

Izzy wouldn't recognize the lie until years later...

...until a lifetime later.

Not until Izzy Hands found Stede Fucking Bonnet braiding silken ribbons the color of fresh bruises into Blackbeard’s mane. They were sitting on barrels on the bloody deck of all places. In plain sight. Where everyone could see the captain - his captain - gaze glassy-eyed and moony over that twat.

“Your hair is quite perfect for ribbons like these," Stede hummed. "I’d imagine the salty sea would fray your beard beyond repair but…Oh! Is that Barnacle Bill’s Beard Oil? It has a wonderful scent.”

“Yeah? You don't think it's too...namby pamby, me being the great Blackbeard and all.”

Izzy Hands felt that single lie from decades ago finally skewer him in the heart: "I was just joking. I don't even like silk."

Izzy wanted to be angry at Stede for infecting Blackbeard with these notions of fancy ribbons and honeyed words. He wanted to be angry at Blackbeard for lying to him that day all those years ago.

But really he was angry at himself...for not looking up at those large, expressive eyes when he had the chance. Long lashes that perhaps would have fluttered just for Izzy had he been brave enough.

In the end, Blackbeard drifted away from him, lulled by a siren in a satin overcoat, leaving Izzy's heart marooned, strangled by a purple satin ribbon.

He took solace in knowing it was he who braided Captain Blackbeard's beard first. No one else. Just Izzy Hands, with genius ideas and skilled fingers.

No one could take that away from him.

Not even the fact that it didn't matter who braided it first.

It only mattered who was the last.

#ofmd #izzy hands #blackbeard #israel hands #our flag means death #blackbonnet

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im-immortal · 3 years

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WIP game

tagged by @courtneyshortney82 (during my vacation & i almost forgot to do this, so it’s a little late lol)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26 -- 5 iCarly, 21 The Walking Dead

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,706,508

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Don’t Make Me Haunt You

thirsty

Most Wanted

risk it all

lost in the sauce

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

Absolutely. Because as a reader, it always feels nice to get responses to my comments, but as a writer, I want people to know that I value their feedback, and sometimes it’s fun to give them little hints of what’s to come!

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

In Toto Corde

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

I think it’s a tie between Breathe. Please. and The Crow’s Song.

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

Nah. Crossovers have never been my thing.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Last time I did, it was on FFN for an iCarly fic. So it was years and years ago. I’ve had some passively hateful comments on some of my Bethyl fics, though. Mainly on Most Wanted and DMMHY.

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

Yes. All kinds (except bondage or ABO.) I try to be diverse, but I haven’t honestly written any M/M or MMF in years. Hoping to get back to it in the near future :)

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, actually!! It was an iCarly smut fic I posted on FFN called Measured Rumors. I wouldn’t have had any idea that it was stolen if it weren’t for some very kind readers who informed me. Someone copied and pasted the whole fic as their own under a different title. I reported it as plagiarism and it was taken down within a day or two. I took it as a compliment, though, to be completely honest hahaha imitation is the highest form of flattery, right?

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!! Ugh my memory is awful because it was years ago, but I’m pretty sure it was an iCarly fic, most likely on FFN. I think they translated it into French, which was really really cool.

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

Not one that’s been posted, but me and @courtneyshortney82 have one that’s been in the works for a couple years, and we have more planned. :)

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

Bethyl. Without question

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

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood. Hopefully I can finish it someday, but it’s really difficult for me to go back to writing in first-person. I kinda set myself up for failure with that one lol

15. What are your writing strengths?

Umm... well, based on feedback, I guess I’d say descriptions. Some of my readers say that I can describe a setting/scene/mood really well, and that they feel like they’re there or that they can picture it perfectly in their heads. So I would like to consider that a writing strength :)

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

All of them. Are you kidding me? I doubt myself at every turn. But especially with conclusions. I absolutely suck at getting past the climax and reaching the resolution. I am... the worst. Oh, and pacing. I always feel like I can’t pace my stories properly, and it jumps around erratically and probably ends up being more drawn out than it needs to be.

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

I try to avoid it because I don’t want to make myself look like an idiot. I’m monolingual and absolutely awful at learning other languages. (I failed high school Spanish not once, but TWICE. Never did get that foreign language credit.)

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Green Day... lmfao

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

I have to pick ONE? Well... okay. I want to say The Crow’s Song, but I also want to say In Toto Corde. I love them both so much and I’m honestly so fucking proud of them. But also, I reallly really really love Don’t Make Me Haunt You, and I’m extremely proud of it, and even prouder that so many people seem to enjoy it. I can’t choose just one! They are all my children!

tagging (sorry if you’ve already been tagged): @raginglittlehurricane @gneebee @littlelindentree @darylbeth @weapon13whitefang @lumierelalune @deerntheheadlights

#bethyl fanfiction #wip game #tagged

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nightwingshero · 3 years

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Questions for an Author

Tagged by the always amazing @chyrstis, thank you love!

Tagging: @water-writings @strafethesesinners @simonxriley @playstationmademe @dieguzguz @xbaebsae @fadedjacket @smithandrogers @geronimo-11 @witchofinterest @shallow-gravy @amistrio @foofygoldfish and anyone else who would like to share!!!

Name: Jodeci but friends call me Jo!

Top 5 Fandoms Written:

➼ Far Cry 5/New Dawn

➼ Batman

➼ Arrowverse

➼ Peaky Blinders

➼ Call of Duty

Top 5 Fandoms You Want To Write For/More:

Yikes. Probably Cyberpunk (if I ever finish the damn game), Call of Duty (because I really need to finish my fic), Batman (see Call of Duty), and I really need to finish Wren’s story, so Far Cry 5. Honestly, all of my fandoms because I really love the characters I’ve developed, plenty many aren’t even aware of, and they’ve been...just chillin’ while I create more and more for other fandoms.

Stories You Wish More People Knew About:

My Call of Duty fics and the Batman story I’m working on...and I guess the Arrowverse stuff too. Like, I can’t complain about the Call of Duty and Batman stuff, because they start off bad, and I am: embarrassed. But Call of Duty is with my very first OC and Batman is honestly one of my faves (see my URL).

Ship(s) Written The Most:

➼ Wren/John (two scales balanced ➼ Wren/Quinn (those who wander) ➼ Blair/Leonard (snow storm) ➼ Emma/Soap ➼ Ashton/Ghost ➼ Veronica/Dick ➼ Dahlia/Alfie.

I included the ship names for those who have them because I love them a bit.

Character(s) Written The Most:

Ah...this where I hide my shame from my OCs because I feel that favoritism is about to show itself. Wren, Emma, Veronica (Call of Duty and Batman), Blair, and Dahlia are the ones I’ve written the most for.

How Many OCs Do You Have:

...I...I don’t want to answer this question. I really down want to drag myself on main like this. I have a lot...like, A LOT. I have an OC page on my blog here. I think that’s the most recent list, but please understand, I haven’t created for a few of them, developed them enough for it. Yikes.

How Many Series Do You Have:

Two. Both planned if I can just finish the first.

What Do You Do With Fics You’re No Longer Interested In?:

I keep them and reread them for fun, or I delete them if they’re no longer a thing I’m interested in and won’t return to.

Coming Soon:

Pieces of Blair’s canon, Dahlia’s canon, and hopefully the second chapter to Stay on the Path for Wren. I also want to try and finally post the next chapter for my CoD fic, because I miss Emma like crazy.

Line From A WIP:

“We’re not waiting around for the other shoe to drop.” Leonard, glancing at us, as if he were clarifying. As if it wasn’t now obvious that their minds were focused on something else. His eyes trailed over us as Jax’s head dropped. “You deserve better.” Leonard added, his gaze falling to Jax as he turned, walking to the door. Mick gave one brief look before following his partner’s lead, their boots echoing through the room.

“Alexa?” Mick asked as Martin stepped away, a look of hopelessness on his face as we watched them leave.

“You bet your ass.” Leonard replied before the doors shut.

It’s silent for a moment as the atmosphere around us seemed heavy with things that were left unsaid, things that had been said, but mostly from the things we were all thinking, the truth of the situation that if said, if confirmed that we were on the same page would make it real. Too real. This was on Rip, no matter how you looked at it, and I felt that. I understood that. I squeezed Jax’s shoulder, glancing between both of them. “Did he tell you the risk?” I murmured.

“Nah.” Jax shook his head, giving a slight shrug. “Didn’t matter. It needed to be done either way Might as well be me, I’m a mechanic.”

Martin cleared his throat, turning to me with a somber expression. “Captain Hunter was indeed notified of the level of contamination being three percent above maximum, although he did assure me that Jefferson would be able to finish before the radiation would affect him.” I hesitated as my brow raised. Stepping away from Jax, I walked to Martin, gently pulling him aside by his arm.

“He what?” I breathed out softly. The old professor shifted, glancing at Jax before looking at me and whispering.

“The captain seemed confident in assuring Jefferson’s safety—”

“And yet we’re sitting here while his organs are aging at a dangerously rapid rate; proof on the contrary, Professor.” I insisted. Another glance in Jackson’s direction only added more concern to Martin’s face, and my heart tugged for them. “He’s aware of your situation, I’m aware of your situation, and we both know how this ends if something happens to Jax…he promised you, Martin.” I trailed off, shaking my head in disbelief. Anger began to make my blood boil, tears threatening to blur my vision. “It’s as if…” Finally, with a huff, I turned away, shocking both Jax and Martin as I began to storm out.

Do You Accept Prompts?

I do! It might take me a minute to get to them, but I gladly accept prompts. It helps me get things flowing sometimes, and it’s always nice when I receive them. It makes me smile.

How Do You Feel About Kudos?

That makes me smile even more. It’s nice to have feedback and to hear what people think about my work.

Do You Read Fic As Well?:

I do, yes, and I actually just started reading some again, because I wasn’t for the longest time. It’s nice to read and enjoy instead of feeling the pressure to bust out work constantly. It’s nice to just create and enjoy for me.

#about me #tag game

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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

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when you’re gone // jack & crutchie

hi !!! so, i’ve made the executive decision to delete one of my collections of fics, but i’m posting each one as their own thing instead of all being in the same ao3 post. therefoooore, have this !! i’ll be posting all four at varying times today!

When You’re Gone

some good things about this fic: -WHATTTTTT??? JAC WROTE SOMETHING IN CANON ERA??? SAY SIKE -crutchie crutchie crutchie -Big Brother Jack Kelly -bonding !! light angst/comfort !!! -Accents (TM)

i hope you guys like this !! (side note: please do not tag this as a romantic ship when reblogging.)

He's different. A bad kind of different, and it's written all over his face.

The strike was won. Jack took that job as a cartoonist down at The World, though he's still staying in the lodging house- just until he has some money saved up, just until he's stable. Everyone else carries on like normal, and for the most part, it is. Jack is still gone at the same time as the rest of the boys, and usually comes back just a little bit earlier than most, but nothing has really changed. Jack is still there.

Yet Jack knows something is wrong with Crutchie.

The kid barely talks to him anymore. Jack isn’t sure why, but he had thought back through their conversations, overanalyzing his comments and picking apart everything he could remember from what Crutchie has said, but there's still nothing that stands out.

But still, something is wrong. If it isn’t painfully apparent by the way Crutchie only says a few words to him a day, it's obvious because Crutchie has moved. He no longer spends his nights out on the rooftop with Jack; no, instead, he shacks up with Race and Albert, which… has to be a lot worse than facing the elements outside. The thought causes Jack to shudder.

It's rough, really. Jack can feel that he's losing Crutchie, who was the one person that Jack knows he couldn’t live without. Katherine is his friend, ex-girlfriend, and self-appointed stylist, David is his lover- he still gets butterflies in his stomach whenever he thinks about that- and Race and Albert are his built-in annoyances, but Crutchie… Crutchie is his brother. Has been for years.

Jack can’t lose his brother.

***

Saturday is a warm welcome. Not necessarily warm- no, no, the temperatures are nearing freezing, but at least Jack doesn’t have to go into work. Pulitzer had graciously given Jack the day off, probably because Jack had turned in five drawings to his supervisor instead of one, and, quite frankly, he was sure that Pulitzer was tired of him for the week, so Jack didn’t protest when he came to him and told him to take the day for himself.

He figures that he'll just spend the day with David. David is back in school now, so his Saturday is free, and the university isn’t that far of a walk from the lodging house, so Jack won’t be freezing his ass off for too long.

Part of him is considering selling again, too, for old time’s sake, but now that he has an actual job, standing on a corner in freezing conditions and hoping that someone is stupid enough to brave the elements for a newspaper just… doesn’t sound appealing. He feels bad for the boys, though. Most of his crew are getting older, so they won’t have to do it for much longer, but it seems that they're getting more and more littles each week and it hurts him to see the young ones have to go out in this weather.

Jack sighs to himself as he climbs out of bed. As the weather took a turn for the worst, Jack had made the executive decision to stay in a spare room in the lodging house rather than risk freezing to death on the rooftop. Besides, this is the room where he stores his nice work clothes anyway- the clothes that he was still going to try to pay Katherine back for, as soon as he has the funds. He decides against wearing any of his work clothes, though, settling instead for an old undershirt from his selling days and some paint-stained trousers. He checks his watch and huffs, knowing that the boys are likely already gone.

Jack makes his rounds anyway. He walks through the lodging house, noticing that a few of the littles decided to stay in, under the careful watch of Smalls. No one else seems to be in the building, though. No one but…

Shit.

Jack takes in a deep breath as he walks toward the door, shaking his head when he hears one of the beds inside shifting. He doesn’t want to disturb him, but then Jack hears something- a sound of pain, a whine, a whimper, whatever it is- and he decides to open the door. Slowly, Jack peeks his head in, a look of concern on his face. “Crutch? Are ya… You okay?”

Crutchie doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks up at Jack with tears in his eyes, and Jack knows that look. He hurries over to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the blankets back, and Jack winces as soon as he sees the contracting muscles on Crutchie’s bad leg. “Shit… Is it bad?”

“Couldn’t even walk this mornin’,” Crutchie answers with a groan, rubbing his forehead. “Jackie, can ya--?”

“Yeah, I got ya,” Jack murmurs. He rubs his hands together for a moment, then gently moves up against the wall, maneuvering Crutchie’s leg into his lap. This reminds him so much of years ago, doing the same thing as a twelve year old, trying to do whatever he can to help his friend with the debilitating pain. It had always been so scary back then, because Jack didn't know what to do and Crutchie was often too in pain to instruct him, but Jack did his best under the circumstances. After all Crutchie had done for Jack, it’s the least he could do.

They sit in silence as Jack massages his leg, continuing on for about ten minutes, until Crutchie’s face relaxes and he’s able to take a deep breath. He gulps, opens his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Jack. You- You can go now.”

“Go? Nah, Crutch, I ain’t leavin’ today,” Jack says simply, looking down at the younger boy. He's only sixteen, and won't turn seventeen for at least five months... Jack can't stand the thought of making Crutchie- a kid- stay alone in this condition. “I’s off today. Don’t got no work. I was, uh, gonna spend the day with--”

“With Davey?” Crutchie says with a smirk, nudging Jack’s shoulder with his fist, and Jack just shakes his head. “Go, go, have fun with your man. I’s fine right where I is.”

“No. I said I ain’t leavin’ today, Crutchie, and I mean it. ‘Specially since your leg’s all outta sorts today,” Jack gives him a pointed look. “Smalls’ takin’ care of the littles, so if I do need to go do somethin’ I have her keepin’ an eye on ya, but my schedule is free. ‘Sides, I think… I think we need to talk.”

Crutchie swallows. “Talk?”

“Well, yeah. We ain’t been able to talk for a while,” Jack shrugs, then sighs. “You’s been avoidin’ me, Crutchie, and don’t act like ya don’t know it. I just… Did I do somethin’ to piss ya off? Is it somethin’ I said?”

“I ain’t been avoidin’ you, Jackie!” Crutchie lets out an incredulous laugh, then looks away. “What makes ya think that? I ain’t--”

“Charlie.”

That makes him stop. Jack is the only one allowed to call him by his real name, and even then, he only ever does so when it’s important. Crutchie takes in a deep breath and sits up, wincing as he moves himself to sit next to Jack with his back against the wall, legs out in front of him. “‘S just… hard, y’know? You’s gonna be gone soon. For real. You already stopped sellin’ and- and don’t get me wrong, I’m real happy for ya ‘nd all, but… I dunno, I just… don’t want ya to leave yet. Figured it would be easier if I stopped talkin’ to ya now, ‘stead of waitin’ for you to go.”

“Charlie, just because I ain’t here don’t mean I ain’t gonna talk to ya,” Jack says softly, wrapping an arm around Crutchie’s shoulder. “You and I- we’s brothers. Always gonna be brothers. You know that, right, knucklehead?” Jack nudges Crutchie in the side, which makes the younger boy let out a laugh. “Once I got enough money to get myself a place, you’s comin’ with me, ya hear? You and me, Crutch.”

“Thought you was gonna live with Dave?” Crutchie tilts his head, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Davey’ll be fine on the couch,” Jack shrugs. There’s a few beats of silence before they both break out into soft laughter, which results in Crutchie resting his head against Jack’s shoulder, just like he used to do when they were younger.

After a few moments, however, Crutchie sucks in a deep breath. “...What am I gonna do with ya gone? Who’s gonna help me get down from the roof?”

“Uh, no one, ‘cause after I’m gone, ain’t no one stealin’ my roof.”

“Who’s gonna antagonize the Delancey’s with me?”

“Where the hell did ya learn the word ‘antagonize’?”

“Who’s gonna make sure I don’t mess up? What if I mess up, Jack? I don't know what to do, and you--”

“Crutch, calm down,” Jack says gently, then rubs the younger boy’s arm. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna do good things, kiddo, I promise. I am so, so proud of you, Charlie… You’re gonna be just fine.”

Crutchie looks up at Jack and gulps, but eventually nods, biting his lip. “I... I guess you's right. Thanks, Jackie.”

They settle into a comfortable silence after that. Things will be a lot different once Jack is actually gone, sure, but Jack has a feeling everything will be alright. He's going to make sure of it.

For his friend.

No, for his best friend.

No, for his brother.

#i luv these boys sm #jack kelly #crutchie morris #charlie 'crutchie' morris #crutchie newsies #newsies #newsies broadway #newsies musical #newsies fic #livesies #92sies #jac writes #jac txt.

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spectraspecs-writes · 4 years

Text

Kashyyyk - Chapter 71

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 70. Chapter 72.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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

I knock on Jolee’s door, and he invites us back in. “Have you done my task, I wonder?” he asks. Rhetorically.

“Katarns just chased them off,” I say.

“You spared them?” he says, “Interesting.”

“Yeah, I hate the corporation, not the people,” I shrug, “No sense in killing people who are just trying to pay their bills.”

“Isn’t there?” he asks, again rhetorically, “I suppose not, but the environment would say otherwise, if it could talk. No matter.”

“You mentioned eliminating barriers? Could we get to it?”

“Not tonight,” he says, “It’s late, and I’m an old man who needs his beauty rest.”

“Okay, then, maybe you could tell me how to do it?” I offer, “I can come back for you.”

“Impatient lass, aren't you?” he says, “You really want to wander around an unfamiliar forest at night?”

“The old man has a point,” Canderous says, “The Star Map will still be there in the morning.”

“But…”

“Relax, Rena,” he interrupts, “I’ve got more of those allergy stims, you’ll be fine.”

I’m still a bit reluctant, but I guess I’m outnumbered. “Okay,” I say, “We’ll stay the night.”

-------

“Come on, gorgeous, don’t tell me you can’t make this climb!” Carth goads.

“I’ve made rougher climbs than you, nerf-herder!” I tease back, “You could help me - grab the rope!”

He grabs the rope attached to the climbing piton. “Only because you’re the only one who knows where we’re going.” He pulls me up and over the side of the rock.

“And don’t you forget it,” I say.

I don’t recognize the planet off-hand, even with the view from the top of the rock. It’s a plains world, and trees dot the landscape. I can hear the rush of a waterfall not very far. But that could describe any number of planets, including Dantooine. Before Jedi training, I’d never been to Dantooine. So I take a look behind me, from where we came. A sandy beach, some seabirds. A doused fire on the beach below. It’s early in the morning. I can still see a moon in the sky. The planet still doesn’t ring a bell. But Carth says I know where I’m going, and I’ve got my lightsaber to back me up if I’m very wrong, so I trust my instincts and head away from the rising sun.

Gizka hop around the plains. They aren’t afraid of us. No natural predators, then. But they aren’t like the ones on the Hawk, either, they aren’t asking for pets or pestering me for food. I’m just another part of their habitat. Eventually the sand ends and beneath my feet is nothing but grass. I miss grass. Feeling it beneath my toes, weaving between them. I take a moment and sit down on a rock. “You can’t be tired already,” Carth says.

“Nah, thought you might be,” I say with a smirk, and I pull off my boots. “I’ve missed the grass under my feet.”

He smiles at me. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid,” he says.

“Live a little!” I encourage him, “Take your shoes off, I won’t judge.”

“Isn’t it cold?”

“A little,” I admit, “but a good kind of cold.” He still looks a little hesitant. “You know you want to,” I say in a sing-song voice.

He gives in. “If I get cuts on my feet, it’s on you,” he says teasingly.

“I’ll just Force-heal them, no big deal.”

He slides off one boot and the smell about knocks me over. “Good God!” I say with a little laugh, “How do your feet smell that bad already?”

“Oh, because yours smell like flowers,” he says sarcastically.

“They smell better than that!”

He smiles and shoves the shoe in my face. I laugh and back up, but I fall right off the rock. He laughs loudly, and so do I. “Oh yeah?” And I Force-push him off the rock. He laughs even harder. He rolls around and stands up.

“You want to play dirty, is that it?” he says teasingly. He runs over to me and pulls me up. “Come on, fight me!” He pulls off his jacket and puts his hands up, ready to wrestle.

“If you really want to get your ass kicked!” I pull off the outer part of my robes and stand to face him.

“Bring it on, gorgeous!” We sort of dance around the plain for a little bit, having more fun than anything else, and then he lunges for me, and I Force-jump away. Carth falls face first into the grass. “No fair using the Force!” he complains.

“I thought we were playing dirty!”

“I didn’t mean actual dirt!” he laughs.

“Oh, well, if you’re afraid of a little mud, then --” He lunges at me again, pinning me to the ground, and I yelp in surprise. “Unhand me, you fool!” I say in a mock-grandiose voice, “I will never surrender!”

“Oh, yeah?” he says, and he starts tickling me.

“Ahh!” I scream between laughs, “That’s-that’s not funny! Stop it!”

“Surrender!”

“Never!”

I shove him off me and get up to run. “You can’t get away that easy!” he says, and he runs after me.

I feel like a kid - I haven’t had this much fun in ages. I jump on rocks with agile leaps, and Carth just runs around them. Eventually he gets tired and leans over, hands on his knees, panting. “Okay, gorgeous,” he pants, “You win.”

We catch our breath, drink some water, put our boots back on before we start walking again. “The others are waiting for us,” he says.

More cliffs rise up around us as we go. I see sand again, we must be near another shore. Are we on an island? Must be. The terrain slopes slowly downward, and we come to a small clearing surrounded by cliffs. There’s wreckage of an escape pod, smashed into a tree. Gizkas have made a home in it, nesting in palm fronds. But there aren’t any there now.

I feel…

...something…

“Rena, look out!” Carth shouts.He runs close and grabs me, pulling me to the ground, finally resting over me before I have any idea what’s going on.

What I’d felt was incoming wreckage from a ship. And if Carth hadn’t leapt me out of the way, I’d be dead. I can’t see anything - what the hell’s going on? All this smoke! “Carth!” I call out, “Carth!”

I hear him cough. “I’m here!” he calls back, “The impact must have knocked me away.” he stumbles through the smoke closer to me. Takes a quick look -- “It landed on your legs, can you move?”

I try to pull myself out - I cry out in pain. “No good,” I say, “I’m stuck - they might be broken.”

He looks around again. “Okay,” he says, thinking quickly, “I’m going to try to lift the fragment.” He positions himself, ready to lift. “When I count to three, you try to roll out. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Okay.” He readies himself, cracks his neck. “One… two… three!” He lifts and I manage to roll out, and he drops it. “Gods, that was heavy!”

I drag myself by my arms over to the base of one of the cliffs. “You okay?” I ask him.

“I’m fine,” he says, “It’s you I’m worried about.” He pulls off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. Then he starts looking through his pack. “I can’t find any medpacs!”

“I think they were in my pack,” I say, “Which is under the wreckage.”

“Damn!”

“It’s okay,” i say, “I can use the Force, just… “ I separate my legs and concentrate on them. “… just give me a second… “ I focus as hard as I can. A glow surrounds my legs, soft and warm. I take a deep breath. And then the glow stops. “Okay,” I say, breathing heavily, “I fixed the bones but there’s still some damage. But I’ve exhausted my Force, we’re going to have to stay here.” Something else - I can’t open my right eye. “Ow, what the…?”

“You’ve got a nasty cut on your forehead,” he says, “I need something to tie it up.” He looks around for a bandage or a scrap of fabric.

“Here.” I tear the sleeves off my robe. “Is that enough?”

“Should be.” He starts to work, tying the sleeves together and wrapping it around my head. I laugh a little grimly. “What?”

“Not so beautiful now, am I?” I say wryly.

He chuckles back. “Nah,” he says, “You’re still beautiful.” He tightly secures the makeshift bandage around my head. “Okay,” he says, “I’m going to try to make you comfortable.”

“No, Carth, I’ll be okay,” I tell him, “Go find the others. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m staying right here.”

“I’ll be fine, go,” I urge again, “Come back for me, I’ll be okay.”

“Rena, I’m not leaving you alone,” he says firmly, “You can’t change my mind.”

I sigh at him, but honestly, I’m glad he’s staying. I pull my lightsaber off my belt. “Here,” I say, “use that to cut the wreckage, maybe we can get my pack out.”

“I don’t want to risk cutting your pack.”

“Then be careful. Trust me, it’s not as hard to use as the Jedi would like you to think.” He takes the lightsaber and starts to cut pieces off the wreckage fragment. Goddamn, he’s sexy with a lightsaber. Thank God he uses blasters mainly instead of swords, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him.

The timeline of a dream -- daylight doesn’t last very long. Carth sets up a fire and when the Force comes back I establish some shelter for the night, jamming a chunk of the fragment into the cliff face. As the moon rises, Carth comes and sits next to me under the shelter. Makes sure I’m comfortable, keeping pressure off my legs. “Hey,” he says softly at one point, “you look tense, you okay?”

“Besides breaking my legs?” I say with an ironic smile. I sigh. “Yeah, I’m tense.”

“Let me help with that.” He pulls his jacket off my shoulders and starts to massage them. His hands press firmly into my muscles, but it still feels gentle. He knows what he’s doing, and he does it masterfully. This is the best I’ve felt in a long time.

“That’s perfect,” I say, leaning back into him. His hands move from my shoulders and back closer to my neck, pressing his fingers into every sore spot, every tight muscle. Then his hands slow, and finally they stop, and he wraps his arms around me. Staring into the fire. Hearing the wood and palm fronds crackle. Watching sparks and cinders fly off and evaporate into nothing. He rests his head on my shoulder. Kisses my neck. I lean back further into him. My lips turn to his. And he smiles at me. Kisses me deeply. And it feels like the whole world falls away…

-------

Oh my God I’m in love with Carth.

#knights of the old republic #kotor #star wars #fiction #autistic artist #revanasi #kotor fic #specs writes stuff #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #dream #canderous ordo #bastila shan #jolee bindo #kashyyyk #chapter 71

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kunoichi-ume · 4 years

Text

Too Much Information: Character Interview

I was tagged by @cinlat who knew I had ocs that had not done this yet. This time it’s Darvic Lewton, Noara’s younger brother. (also tagging you back, I am sure you have someone to share still)

► Name ➔ “Darvic Brax Lewton”

► Are you single ➔ “Yes, but it would be a lie to say I don’t have my eye on a certain red-haired Jedi.”

► Are you happy ➔ “I guess that is subjective, I got a badass promotion, finally met my big sister only to find out the promotion was a farce and my sister doesn’t remember even having a family - or her full name. That was a kick in the teeth.”

► Are you angry ➔ “If I focus too much on the cowards that used to be in Havoc, or the blank look on Noara’s face when I introduced myself, then yes I am.”

► Are your parents still married ➔ “Yes, very happily so. I can’t imagine anything coming between those two and can only hope to be as lucky in love someday.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Ord Mantell. It was a great place to grow up, before the seps and Imp fucked everything up.”

► Hair Color ➔ “Black, like mom. I can’t imagine what I would look like if I had inherited dad’s blond locks.”

► Eye Color ➔ “Just blue.”

► Birthday ➔ “I’m a winter baby like my older sister. The other two were lucky enough to have summer birthdays.”

► Mood ➔ “Everything works out in the end, if it hasn’t worked out yet then it’s not the end.”

► Gender ➔ “All male, last I checked.”

► Summer or winter ➔ “Winter. Birthdays, holidays, best time of year to spend with my family.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Dad got me used to early mornings from a young age, it stuck.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “Not yet, but hopefully it’s on the way.”

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “No, at least not romantic love. Family is a different case, I remember meeting my sisters for the fist time and can honestly say I loved all three of them from the moment it suck in who they were to me.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “Me, when I got shipped out, though ‘relationship’ is a strong word for out casual dating status. We weren’t serious enough to attempt, or survive, a long distance thing.”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “I doubt it, unless I shot them in the chest.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “No, but it has never really come up before.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Oh yeah, between hugging my godfather to annoy him and my crewmates its never been too long since the last hug.”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ "I kinda hope not, I would be ashamed to have not noticed them.”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Not yet, been lucky so far.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “I would have to say love.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Caf? Ale? Can’t say tea gets me excited and after the last time Juli made me lemonade and used salt instead of sugar I can’t stomach the stuff.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “We had several dogs growing up, but just one right now. Cats were never around enough to have a real opinion there.”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “After having my own ‘squad’ try and get me killed I’d have to say I prefer best friends I know I can trust.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Wild nights, every night. I am young, single and ready to party.”

► Day or night ➔ "Night, the best stories happen after dark.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ "Once. Dad made sure I never did it again. Getting caught, I mean..”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Just once, when I was younger and my dad took me to Coruscant, I was so busy looking up I forgot to watch my step.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ "Yes, a few things, like wanting to meet my big sister for one.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ "Nah, I like attention but I guess being able to disappear when all those Imps attacked me could have been helpful.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “Smiles are universal and always good to see.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Not sure I have a preference.”

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “Why is this an ‘or’? The sexiest women I have met could work circles around me intelligence wise.”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ "Most of what I have had are hook-ups, I would like to really experience the relationship thing.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “Yes. My dad, mom, sisters, even that grump Aric - we all get along very well.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “Not even close, until the last few years it’s been pretty normal and uneventful actually.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “Never even considered it.”

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “No, mom would have never allowed it and neither even threatened me with it.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Actual friends? No. People who were supposed to be my friends and allies? Yes, but it’s not so secret anymore. Some of those Havoc guys always felt off to me.”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “The ones I have right now? Yes.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “At the risk of sounding very nerdy and pathetic? My godfather. We have always been very close”

► Who knows everything about you ➔ Not sure anyone knows everything but if they do I am likely to be honest.”

#OC: Darvic Lewton #too much information

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thefandomsinhalor · 5 years

Text

I Know Who I Am

Written for @swansongbingo

Square filled: Stanford!Sam (Season One)

Title: I Know Who I Am

Rating: Teen and up

Word count: 2,979

Warning tags: No Archive Warning

Ship: Sam Winchester x Jessica Moore (light)

Summary: Thriving at Stanford, Sam believes he is finally free to embrace who he really is.

Read on AO3 (I might turn this into a full length fic)

“Sam? What’s wrong?”

Sam lifted his eyes from his computer screen to meet Jessica’s. Holding her cup of coffee, she stared at him. She was already dressed and ready to head out for her morning class.

Sam smiled at her. “Nothing’s wrong. Um, far from it actually.” He swallowed hard and returned his focus to his computer screen to make sure he had read the e-mail properly.

“What is it, babe? Did—oh my God. Did you get it? The scores?” She stepped into the kitchen.

“Yup.”

“And?” she asked, putting down her cup on the counter.

Sam looked at her again. She was staring at him intensively and kept shifting on her feet with giddiness.

“174.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, Sam!” she cheered as she dashed towards him. With her arms wrapped around him, she gave him a warm, tight hug. “That’s almost a perfect score.”

“It’s not.”

“Stop. I’m so proud of you!”

Sam, unable to contain his smile, beamed. “Yeah?”

“Of course! I knew you could do it!” She loosened her embrace to look at him properly. Standing on her tip toes, she kissed him tenderly.

“Damn it,” she said, after breaking the kiss. “I have to leave. I’m sorry. I’m—I’ll probably be late already.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Sam.

“We have to celebrate!” she said urgently. “Tonight.”

He let out a sigh. “You know how I feel about—today.”

“I know, but—Sam, this is huge. We have to do something. Besides, we agreed to meet Luis at the pub.” She kissed him quickly on the cheek and walked away from him.

Sam groaned. “I was hoping to skip it.”

She stopped and turned around, amused. “Nah-uh. You said you would go out with us. Despite today being Halloween. And now you have a perfect excuse.”

“You mean you have the perfect excuse to drag me there.”

“Just be ready!” she said, laughing. And after a quick look at the clock, she hurried towards the door. “I love you!”

Sam’s morning was rather uneventful. He went to study for an hour at the library before his morning class as he always did.

The class was long. His mind was slightly wandering today, so he took avid notes to focus and was grateful that at least his professor was engaging.

After his class, he stopped by Brady’s place to check up on him. He hadn’t seen Brady in quite a while and he didn’t live far from campus, so Sam would have plenty of time to come back for his afternoon class.

Brady welcomed him with a broad smile.

“I was just about to eat some leftovers. Want some? Chinese food,” said Brady after shutting the door behind Sam.

“Great. I guess it will pair up perfectly with the subs I picked up for us on my way here,” said Sam, lifting the paper bag he was holding.

Brady laughed loudly. “Weird combos it is. Just like freshman year.”

“Seems so,” said Sam, sitting at the counter. While Brady was busy retrieving the food containers from the fridge, Sam glanced around the apartment.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing troublesome.

Spick-and-span.

“Sam?”

Sam mildly jumped at his name and returned his attention to Brady.

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you. I’m having issues focusing today, I guess.”

Brady stared at him quietly for a moment. “Any reason why?”

“Just tired. I just—”

“What?”

“Just had issues sleeping. That’s all.” He handed Brady one of the subs and began unwrapping the second one.

“Any reason in particular?” said his friend.

“Stress. School. I finally got my LSAT,” he said before taking a bite of his sub.

Brady froze. When Sam remained silent, he asked him about his score. Once Sam told him, trying not to feel embarrassed, Brady cheered loudly, pumping his fist in the air. “That’s terrific, Sam.” He looked down at the food on the counter. “I kinda feel like we should eat something else instead.”

Sam shook his head. “Nah. This is actually nice. What about you? Did you finally made a decision for next year? Last time we talked, you seemed undecided.”

“Nothing concrete, yet, I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay too. You tell me when you do, though? And then, we’ll celebrate.”

“Deal,” said Brady, grinning. He helped himself to some dumplings and asked, “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hadn’t heard from you in a while.”

Brady stopped chewing. He paused a moment, and then smirked at him. “You wondered if I was up to no good?”

“Brady—I—”

“That’s why you were eyeing my place earlier. Are you worried about me?”

“No. I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy. I—I just—”

“Sam, relax,” he said after taking a big bite of his sub. “I get it. You want to make sure I haven’t gotten back to my old ways—”

“Brady, I’m—”

“If anything,” he said, cutting him off, “I’m touched. But I promise I’m fine. I’ve just been busy.”

“Okay,” said Sam, nodding. “Can I ask how you’ve been busy?” he asked in a lighter tone, which made Brady laugh.

His friend observed him a moment, as if he was deciding to what extent he should share, and finally said, “Let’s just say that something is brewing in the background. Something big. Life altering big for some of us. In a way.”

“Really? And when is your big turning point is supposed to happen?”

“Oh, I didn’t say it would be life altering for me, per se. Although, it will evidently change things for me too.”

Sam frowned at him. “What?” He let out a small laugh. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ll see,” said Brady, smiling at the corner of his mouth. “But I’m not giving away the surprise.”

“That’s not vague or ominous at all,” said Sam.

“Any plans tonight?” asked Brady, changing the subject. “I’m sure Jess is planning something to celebrate.”

Sam pursed his lips and lowered his eyes.

“Right,” sighed Brady. “You and Halloween. I forgot. What’s up with that?”

“I just—it’s not my thing. Jess and I are meeting Luis at the pub tonight. A few of the others said they’d show up there too—you’re welcome to join, by the way—”

“I would love that, believe me, but I actually have other plans tonight.”

“All right. I’m—I was sort of trying to get out of it, but now Jess is insisting on celebrating tonight…”

“Can’t really miss that,” said Brady, amused. “Want my advice? I think you should listen to Jess. She clearly has your best interest at heart. Going out, instead of staying in to study—again—won’t kill you, Sam. Embrace it while you can.”

Sam enjoyed the rest of his lunch with Brady, discussing their options and hopes for their school years to come. Brady was enthusiastic and gave Sam a detailed list of his intensive school year schedule to meet all the application deadlines.

Much like the one Sam had to endure as well.

Soon enough, however, Sam needed to head back towards campus, so he thanked Brady for the lunch and reminded him of the night’s invitation in case his plans changed.

Back on campus, Sam hurried to his next class, swirling the ambling students around him. But as he passed by the Hoover Tower, he came to a halt when a thought suddenly occurred to him.

Dean. Dad.

His stomach dropped. He hadn’t told them about his results yet. And he had just now realized that fact.

Why would I though? It’s not like they get it.

And while he knew perfectly well that this was true, he also felt somewhat guilty that his first thought hadn’t been to tell Dean.

Dean would care. He might think it’s pointless and that I am wasting my time with Law school, but he would care. Dad too, but…

He retrieved his phone from his pocket and pondered about dialing. He pursed his lips, staring stubbornly at his phone.

All his reasons for having left, for having kept to himself all this time, came rushing back in his mind. Because he wanted to be free and lead his own life. Because he was tired of hunting. Because it wasn’t who he was.

And now, even though he wanted to share this news with them, he was worried calling might open the door for them—for John—to pull him back in.

Sam let out a sigh of frustration.

I can’t do it.

Because this isn’t me anymore. This has never been me. I’m okay here. I’m with Jess. I have friends. A future. A future that won’t end with blood. And death. And pain.

And soul crushing drama.

I already had enough of drama as it is.

This—me being a civilian who actually has a life, who is participating in society and doesn’t run anywhere—this is what I want. This is who I am.

He stared at his phone. At the contact “Dean.”

But I would still like to tell Dean.

And after a moment of hesitation, when he almost hit dial, he shook his head, shoved the phone back in his pocket and continued his route.

The number is probably not even in service anymore. And they’ll say what? Congratulations? Even if they mean it and it’s not just out of politeness, they will still probably think it’s a waste of time.

And I don’t want to hear that. Not today. Not after everything.

And more than anything, I don’t want to risk getting sucked into that. I managed to get myself out of it. I don’t want to ruin it.

I’m not a hunter. I want to be a lawyer.

And that was what he kept repeating to himself the rest of the day.

In his afternoon class, which turned out to be extremely difficult to focus on.

When he devoured his dinner at the bookstore where he worked. Especially when he overheard two students discussing doing a séance at the Holy Cross cemetery that night.

Based on what they were planning on bringing, not to mention how they intended on proceeding, Sam judged that there wasn’t anything to worry about. He kept his mouth shut so he wouldn’t sound like a complete freak.

Which was extremely difficult at times.

I’m not a hunter. I want to be a lawyer.

Words that he repeated to himself, once again, when he bumped into Mr. Gable, who lived across the hall from him and Jess, in their building’s lobby. His neighbor appeared grim, which was very unlike him, so Sam asked him what was wrong. Mr. Gable complained that “weird stuff” was happening in his apartment and when he notified their landlord, he wasn’t very keen on doing anything about it.

“What do you mean by ‘weird stuff’?”

“The lights are glitching. And the damn thermostat is broken.”

Sam frowned. “How so?”

“It’s cold all the time. Which makes no sense, I know,” he added after assessing Sam’s expression. “I know it’s not winter yet, but it’s cold. Anyway, he came in, checked a few things and said everything was in order.”

“Did you ever have this problem before?”

“No. And I’ve lived here for almost ten years now.”

Sam swallowed. “Mr. Gable, I—I’m sure the landlord is—can I have a look?”

“At my apartment? You?”

“It’s probably just the wiring with the lights and…stuff, but I can check if you want.”

“And you’re an electrician?”

“Um, no. But I get by. I changed a few things in our apartment when we moved in. I got rid of that old ceiling fan that looked like it would just drop on our heads.”

Mr. Gable laughed. “All right. A quick look wouldn’t hurt.”

After Sam told him he needed to get a few things first, he dashed to his apartment and gunned for some of his gear he hid in the bottom of the closet. Away from prying eyes. Away from Jess’ grasp. He had explained to her that this was “hunting” gear and should be kept safely away at all times. He wouldn’t use it, but felt like he had to keep it for a weird “sentimental” value.

He knew Jess respected his space, especially in regards to anything involving his family. He also knew that if Jess ever decided to have a closer look in the duffle bag, while some guns and knifes would make sense, there was a bunch of other stuff that wouldn’t add up as hunting equipment.

Traditional hunting that was.

Sam simply grabbed the EMF and put his bag back in the closet.

Mr. Gable’s apartment’s inspection turned out to be very quick. He asked his neighbor the usual spill, trying his best to not sound overly invasive or weird. No recent deaths in the family or surroundings. No purchased or heirloom items. Again, nothing out of the ordinary.

And while the place was a bit chilly, it wasn’t like the usual ice-cold spots. Not like the ones that made the hair at the back of his neck rise and paralyzed him for a second.

He also noticed that Mr. Gable liked to have the windows open.

“Everybody needs fresh air!” he said defensively.

And while the lights did flicker, the EMF, on the other hand, didn’t react, so Sam judged it was the wiring. Sam assured him that he would mention it to the landlord next time he saw him, and that if the landlord still did nothing about the lights then, he asked Mr. Gable to come and find him again, and Sam promised to help him out.

His neighbor thanked him and Sam headed back home, telling himself that it was just bad wiring.

Besides, I am done with all this. This is just me not being stupid. Being cautious. And he figured that the supernatural was simply on his mind due to Halloween.

We’re close to—this is why I’m going there. But there is nothing.

Despite having fun with Jess and Luis, and the fact that he was celebrating and happy about his scores, keeping his mind away from the supernatural proved to be challenging on that evening nonetheless.

He was used to Halloween being the “night off,” but observing everyone’s costumes made it difficult to ignore that fact.

Luis was dressed as a zombie, which was a nice effort, Sam judged, to the real thing with the ragged clothes and makeup.

Except for the smell. Nothing can be faked about the authenticity of a rotten corpse.

Failing to solely focus on Jess, Sam noticed everyone around them. Some guy wearing a pope outfit. A pirate. Some girl wearing a silver spandex and silver wig. Another one wearing a white puffy dress. And a veil. A bride. She walked right behind Jess. And next to someone wearing multicolored curly hair with—

Fuck, no. Why? Sam took a deep breath

Why do people insist on dressing up as clowns? Why do people want to dress up period?

And it wasn’t until later that night, once he was lying in his bed, desperately trying to fall asleep that a troubling thought came to him.

I don’t like that people are dressing up for fun because I was forced to do it my whole life. My whole life I had to pretend to be someone else. I had to lie about everything. I had to lie to everyone.

Every day was Halloween for me. The bad part of it, I suppose, but still.

And I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be that person. I want to be me. Just me.

He sighed as his heart grew heavy. Feeling his arm going numb, he turned on his back.

Another thought crept into his mind.

But I’m still lying. Not like before, but I’m still lying.

And then, he made the mistake of opening his eyes.

And momentarily froze as he stared at the ceiling.

And saw it in a flash. Jess. The burning ceiling. The image imprinted in his mind from his nightmare.

Nothing. There’s nothing. Of course, there’s nothing.

He turned his head towards Jessica who was peacefully sleeping next to him.

She’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about.

He told himself this a hundred times, convincing himself that it was all a dream. Nightmare. Nothing else. And considering the time of year, it was not surprising why these nightmares—theses atrocious, paralyzing nightmares—would occur.

This is just me reacting to stress or something.

And this is exactly the reason why I should keep on track. Not care about anything else.

He took a deep breath, turned on his side again to avoid looking at the ceiling and shut his eyes. He had every intention to clear his mind.

But it didn’t work as well as he had hoped. The moment that image surfaced into his head, it was difficult to let it go. And the usual depressing hits started to rush in. His mother. John yelling about Stanford. Crappy motels. The journal. Kids telling him he was weird. Moving.

And therefore, me always being the weird kid.

And now, creepy nightmares of Jess burning on the ceiling. Like Mom.

No. This is—

I have nothing to do with this.

This is not me. This is not me. This is not me.

I know who I am. And no one can change that. I have a say into this.

And he eventually fell asleep as he repeated his mantra. For the most part, it had worked.

Sam did not have nightmares about Jessica burning on the ceiling.

He had a dreamless sleep that night.

Until he was awoken by a sound in his apartment.

The sound that broke his sleep.

The sound that brought him back to reality.

To his reality.

A window opening.

#swansongbingo #Sam Winchester #spn fanfic #stanford!sam

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tonya-the-chicken · 4 years

Text

Ok, someone (@gucciasswitch ) dared me to do whole list and who am I to resist

1. What was your first OTP?

Probably Royai. FullMetal Alchemist was my first anime I watched on TV and I immediately fell in love with relationships between Riza and Roy. I used to fantasize about them all the time. I still do love them.

Also I remember I wanted Zuko to end up with Katara

2. What is your current OTP?

Definitely EnjiRei. I think about them and their family all the time. That's just what I do when I ship - I maladaptive daydream. What I like about them is ice and fire aesthetics is how fucked up everything is but Rei still somehow can forgive him or at least try to? He somehow remember her favourite things? I want to know more about them. Like, how exactly Enji found her? What happened to Touya?

I also like BakuCamie, ShinTsuyu, ZenNezu, still Royai, Huwumi, Natsuo x his girlfriend, maybe MomoIida, Jeankasa, Sabigiuy, Levihan, Miritama, Levifar

3. Do you have any OT3/OT+ ships? What are your favorites?

Mmmmmm, probably no. Though, I once saw OchaTodoDeku and it looks wholesome

4. What is/are your favorite trope(s)?

Tropes, tropes... I like what is called "unsexy erotica" by some author on ao3. Like, when characters are processing their feelings and it's the end it's not really sexy though it still somehow amazes me. It's not really a trope though, I saw only one fanfic with that.

I love redemption arcs made well, bad people turning good and having the love no one ever gave them before (duh)

5. What is/are your least favorite trope(s)?

Definitely soulmates au, it makes me cringe somehow. Or is it not a trope? Whatever

6. Do you have a certain kind of ship you’re more attracted to?

I often ship canon ships. Also for whatever reason I enjoy different-sex couples more often. Also if I see a person with fire powers I'll connect the dots them with someone with water/ice, it's just math... Jk... Unless

7. Are most of your ships “pure” or “problematic”?

Actually, they are mostly pure. But also I ship EnjiRei and someone gonna send me anon hate for this, ehhh

8. Who is the most shippable person you can think of?

Objectively it will be the main character of any series cause they have the most interactions. For me personally it's Enji cause I love him right now and I like to explore his relationship with everyone, like, I can occasionally ship him with Hawks, All Might, Burnin', Rei and some OCs

9. Are there any fandoms you don’t have any ships for?

The ones I am not in, duh. Actually, I am not really active shipper... In one punch man I don't ship anyone? But it's not like I am really in fandom khkhkh

10. Do characters have to have canon interactions for you to ship them?

Yeah, if it's not ship with OC (obviously). There can be exceptions like hetalia cause characters are basically countries

11. What makes a great ship in your own opinion?

Logic and some shared life philosophy/goal/struggles. Or just deep feeling and will to understand one another. Dunno

12. What drives you away from a ship?

If I don't understand why, basically. Also any mentor x student relationships are very big no-no for me. I don't like this power dynamic when one person is doomed to see another as they are above them. And also incest is nah

13. Is there anything you ship but refuse to interact with the community for?

Probably EnjiRei? I am kinda scared cause I don't want people to treat me badly based on that, ya know? Actually, I am trying to be more open about it cause fuck society, I am tired of your shit

14. Has a fanbase ever made you ship or not ship something? Why?

I stopped shipping eruri cause I got very fed up with fans being nasty, I guess. Like, they always tried to prove that it is canon and I just got tried and switched to levihan?.. Also I probably started to ship huwumi because of fanbase. I just never thought of the ship. But the most important deed is that fanbase brought me Dabi is Touya theory. Thank you, strangers on youtube

15. Do you like/participate in ship wars? Why or why not?

Define "ship war"? I sometimes enjoy observing people arguing but mostly I am annoyed when someone shit on character or ship. So sometimes I guess I can write something like "bitch can you stop" but usually I try to stay out of it. I guess I am pro-shiping and anti anti most of the time

16. Are there any ships you just can’t/don’t understand? What are they?

Ereri, Dekumight, RoyEd... Do you see the pattern? I highly dislike mentor x student ships. Also incest ships are no-no even if everyone is an adult for a simple reason - I actually have brothers and this shit creeps me out

17. Are there any popular ships that you just don’t like? What are they?

Ereri. It's the only banned tag I have (edit: not anymore, I am trying to ban enji antis). Also probably RoyEd but FMA fandom is not really active or I am not really into it

18. What is your favorite unpopular ship?

EnjiRei........

19. Do you prefer fluff, angst, or smut for your ships?

It depends. I mostly don't like smut just for smut but if there's some feelings and processing of them, ya know... Angst goes well with everything though I recently found out I kinda dislike seeing violence and suffering in fanart... I actually like comedy more than pure fluff, I am kinda Mr Nighteye and believe in power of humor

20. Do you prefer bigger fanbases or smaller ones?

Bigger ones cause bigger fanbase = more content to CONSUME

21. Have you ever received hate for a ship you liked?

The most close thing to hate I received was this: https://tonya-the-chicken.tumblr.com/post/189156146100/you-ship-enjirei-and-call-urself-a-feminist

Nothing more probably...

22. Do you have any ships that you ship, but would never want to see as canon?

I think no. I am quite ok with any of my ships becoming canon

23. Have you ever had a ship become canon, but you didn’t like how it was portrayed?

Nah... Though it still can happen since many of my fandoms have actively running mangas/animes

24. What is your favorite canon ship?

Define "canon ship"? Probably Royai

25. What are your favorite ships from a dead fandom?

Sweden x Ukraine from Hetalia. I used to ship ot hard XD I had a whole blog dedicated to it! I just don't know dead fandoms, ok

26. What are your favorite shipping scenes?

Nothing in particular but when a characters does something stupid/risk his life to save/help their love interest. Like, when Zenitsu wet to spiders forest to save Nezuko... Or when Jean saved Mikasa from titan.

27. What are your views on reader x canon ships?

You do you, I guess, but my opinion is NO

28. What is your best shipping advice?

Have fun yourself and don't ruin it for others. You are free to block anyone and anything, it doesn't make you a bad person. And also try to think critically about views shared on social networks, like, not everything in true.

I'll also add here about media affecting reality: aS A fuTuRE PSyChoLoGisT I can say that YES, THEY DO AFFECT EACH OTHER. But often Internet can't get all the nuances and ends up censoring everything. In university we had an assignment where we analyzed modern media. And TV news collected around 30 media risks meaning that materials can affect (usually child's) brain in negative way. What now, are we supposed to not show violence and war? "Destroy everything that can traumatize a child" is a bad solution because of many reasons. Kids are not supposed to read 18+ content, kids are not supposed to spend time on Internet without parental control, kids are not supposed to watch a lot of stuff without an adult's presence. But they do and it's not fault of people who create 18+ / "problematic" content.

29. Do you like OCs (Original Characters)?

Yes, I do, if it's not self-insert OC, you know? I have some myself but usually not for shipping

30. What are some of your favorite shipping blogs?

What is shipping blog?.. Ok, I guess that people who post about ship or what??? Eh...

I'll recommend you to just look up blogs I follow, whatever, I'm tired

#ask game #gone wrong #get to know me #I won't tag itwith characters #maybe I'll tag EnjiRei cause if you ship it to hmu or whatever #enjirei #bye

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

Text

The Rebel Queen (iv)

Chapter Four: Convergence

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | A03

Words: | Warnings: More ramblings of a delusional fanfic writer…

A/N: Finally our two protagonists meet... just not how you#d envision it.

Taglist is open

Epilogue | About Thesmora

Hyperspace...

Poe took his holo-call in the privacy of a storage room. General Leia’s face was a portrait in blue as she filled him in on what new intel she had gathered.

“Maz got in touch again. Your contact has arrived on Takodana. She’s a member of the House of Ordell. And seeing as there are only three members of that house remaining, I’m assuming it’s the young princess, Calista.” Leia’s face lit up in a half-smile as she remembered something. “I met her once. When she was just a child. She was so shy, unlike her mother and father. Always clinging to the coattails of the admiral like he was some boulder keeping her from being swept away.” She lifted her head, her eyes set back on Poe.

Poe shook his head when he realised she was waiting for some form of confirmation that he knew about what she was speaking of. The name didn’t ring any bells.

Leia explained further, “They’re royalty. They govern over a small planet situated close to the Outer Rim. Thesmora.” She said the planets name as though it would mean something to him, but Poe simply ran a hand through his hair and shrugged with indifference. The General huffed at him.

“It’s a big galaxy,” he defended himself.

“Indeed it is,” she replied matter-of-factly. “It used to be a beacon of neutrality within the galaxy. However, Thesmora has fallen to infighting. Not much noise has been made about it considering how much confusion and fear the galaxy is in after the First Order fired their superweapon. Their skirmish has gone relatively unnoticed.”

“Maybe the people simply wanted to govern themselves?”

“No, I knew the late queen. We didn’t agree on much and she was as stubborn as a mule, but her subjects adored her. More importantly, she would have proven to be a great ally…” Something bothered Leia, the lines on her face becoming more prominent as she furrowed her brow in thought. “It’s curious. News of her death came to me around the same time I received correspondence from her. It can’t be a coincidence. “

Poe lingered for a while, feet kicking the air.

“Speak your mind Commander,” Leia urged, having noticed his reaction.

“Are you sure this was all worth it?” He slumped onto a box, a sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t doubt your reasons for sending me on this mission. I just can’t help but wonder if I was the right choice. I’m trying to see things your way, but I’m flying blind here. And that’s the worst feeling for a pilot to have. Especially the pilot you chose to lead this expedition.”

“You’re afraid it would all turn out to be a waste of time,” she said it as if she had the power to read his thoughts. “Have faith, Commander. I had sensed something before Maz had contacted me. She felt it too. And now we discover that a potentially powerful ally is in need of assistance… Call it fate or coincidence, matters not. What matters is that the Resistance is hobbling on one leg as it is. If we hope to survive, we have to be willing to take risks. Even if those risks seem to be fools' errands.”

“Those are large hopes to place on a princess of a homeworld that is currently too busy fighting its own war to care about the one being waged against the entire galaxy, General.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“And my orders?” he asked.

“I am transferring a data packet to your terminal. Hand it to the princess. And only the princess. It’s time we took direct action.”

The terminal stopped the projection and Poe was left alone with his thoughts. Then he heard Paige call him over his terminal, “Uh, hotshot, mind coming back down here. I’ve gotta pull us out of hyperspeed and I’m afraid I might rip us to shreds if I accidentally press the wrong button.”

Poe smiled as he left the cold, compressed space of the storage locker and made his way to the cockpit which was filled with the noises of several alarms and flashing lights.

"Easy does it, Tico, don't want to jostle us around on landing," he cautioned as his new second mate retracted the landing gear sloppily. Her arm muscles strained to keep the ship in alignment and he could tell she wasn't ready for this particular task just yet. He flicked a few switches, turned more dials and pressed several buttons. The landing controls had been transferred to him and Paige audibly sighed, wiping the sweat off her brow. A shake settling in her bones more freely now.

"I could’ve handled that," she made light of the situation after Poe had set the ship down in a clearing surrounded by tall, canopied trees.

He chuckled, unbuckling his seat belt and pushing his chair backwards, "Sure you could've." It was hard to tell whether he meant to be sarcastic, sincere or teasing, but Paige seemed to take it lightly.

"I just thought you were getting bored since I did all the flying this time," she wore a smug smile.

One of his eyes twitched, "All the flying?"

She playfully punched his sides as they made their way to the rear of the ship, "Is someone's ego hurt?"

“It’ll take more than that, I assure you,” he shot her a warm smile as he pressed the door’s side panel and light flushed through the cooling ship.

Paige took a step back from the encroaching light, face scrunched up in a tight squint. She had yet to habituate herself with the constant changes forced upon the human body during intragalactic travel. Poe recognised that squint, he had worn it many times when he first started flying through hyperspace. It was always accompanied by vertigo, nausea and a flash of white spots that bombarded his vision. During his worse trips, he’d even experience the regular bout of muscle spasms. Years of flying had trained his body to become acclimated to the abrupt changes in environment that came with travelling through hyperspace. It was a discipline that came with the territory. Being a passenger was one thing, piloting under intense conditions and forcing your mind and body to stay lucid and responsive was a whole other ball game. Lucky for Paige, Poe hadn’t noticed any uncontrollable shaking… yet.

“Shut your eyes. Take three deep breaths and focus on your feet while walking. Your inner-ear should balance itself out. If you start to shake, ride it out, it’s worse when you fight it,” he offered his advice while she tentatively took a step forward and regretted it because she hissed away from the light in lightning-quick movements.

“Ughh, why does piloting make you feel worse after?” she groaned as she tried her luck one more time.

Poe chuckled, “It’s a small price to pay for conquering the stars.”

“Commander,” one of his men saluted behind him. It was a young lad with freckles dotted all over his nose and cheeks. His bright-eyed manner adding no hardness to his fresh face. Poe guessed he wasn’t a day older than him when he first started flying for the New Republic.

Poe extended his hand and was met with an enthusiastic handshake, “You’re new. I don’t think I saw you board the ship. What’s your name?”

“Ah, yes. This is my first official mission. I usually work in engineering. It’s an honour, sir,” he rambled, a flush of embarrassment and excitement turning his skin almost the same shade of red as his curls. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier –since you were flying and such. I just… wanted to offer my assistance.” He fumbled with his hands until he decided fisting them into his overalls was the more convenient thing to do.

Paige tittered behind Poe’s shoulder and he had to bite his cheek to keep from doing the same, “I didn’t get your name?”

“It’s Cors, sir. Zeeke Cors.”

Paige’s voice took on a high pitch, “Wait, the Zeeke Cors? I thought you’d be… older.” She sounded impressed.

Poe turned to her, his brows raised by half a millimetre, “Am I missing something.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, sir. Just a fluke that stuck and made me sound like some big wig with big brains and a little too much luck on his side,” he beamed. “Frankly, I’m just a guy who was in the right place at the right time.”

“He’s being modest,” Paige scoffed. “He managed to sneak aboard a First Order ship and sabotage its flight controls preventing it from pursuing a resistance medical vessel back to D’Qar. No one would have known he did it either, if they hadn’t found him passed out in the galley with the capacitor fused into his palm.” She turned to the young man, finger pointing to his arm, and then continued: “Didn’t they have to give you a prosthetic?”

He untucked his left hand from his pocket and rolled up the sleeve, “Nah, just grafts. My injuries were somewhat exaggerated by my crewmates. Makes for a more interesting story. At least, that’s what they tell me.”

The hero type, eh?

He took a step forward, glancing around as though someone might be listening in, “Between us, the ship was empty. The troopers had already disembarked when I snuck in through a maintenance hatch. The pilot and second mate didn’t even notice me because I was in a crawl space the entire time.”

Poe tucked his arms around his chest, “How’d you know about the crawl space? Ever worked on a First Order ship before?”

Zeeke shook his head, “Nope. I just have a knack for fixing things. Besides, most ships are designed the same. My brother works on Canto Bight as a…” he paused for a second and decided to let that detail slide. “Anyway, he showed me some blueprints once. The Hutt’s pay a lotta credits for any info they can get on ship designs. Makes for good saboteuring. That’s what they say, anyway.” He shrugged awkwardly before stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “So, what ‘dya say to having an extra pair of eyes tag along? I make a good spotter.”

From how he held himself, Poe would have figured Zeeke to be a little too nervous to have on a mission, but after hearing the strange twang in his accent and the types of words he used, he wasn’t so sure nervous was an accurate assumption. Wiry was perhaps a better description. He mulled over the short boy’s proposal for a long minute.

Paige was the one to break the silence, “Aww, come on Commander, cut the kid some slack. How many chances do you think he’s had to visit Takodana? Hell, it’s my first time here too. And by that count, it means only one of us knows the lay of the land. An extra man watching our backs doesn’t seem so bad.”

“Twice,” Zeeke added.

“What?” Paige hummed in confusion.

“You said ‘how many chances do you think he’s had to visit Takodana?’” he held up two fingers in a V. “Twice. Which means you’d have two people who know the lay of the land on your team. I also have a good memory. Remember most things on the fly. Makes me a terrible sabacc player.”

“Because you always lose?” she cocked her head to the side.

“Because I always win. And the house didn’t like that…” his attention drifted momentarily before he shook himself back to the present.

Paige opened her mouth, probably to inquire about his two prior visits or his penchant for sabacc considering he seemed unlike the usual type that would wind up at a pirate haven –not once, but twice– and also partake in high stakes gambling. Poe interjected to wrap thing up. They’d spent long enough just standing there.

“Why not,” he agreed. “Tell the others to stay ready in case we need to make a quick and loud exit. Maz will try and keep things civil, but you never know.”

“Great!” he rolled on the balls of his heels like a kid building up confidence to ask a question. “Do I get a blaster?”

Paige and Poe exchanged a look before they both nodded, but not in a way that said yes. “No,” they said simultaneously before they made their way to Maz’s place beyond the dense tree line, Zeeke ran after them once he relayed Poe’s orders.

“What do you think a princess looks like?” Paige whispered in Poe’s direction as they scoured the riff-raff populating the hot and stuffy make-shift cantina. “I mean, I know the General used to be a princess but then… you know, Alderaan went all kablooey. I’ve seen images of the queen of Naboo before, but if someone dressed like that was in here, they’d stick out like a Tusken Raider on Hoth.”

Zeeke chuckled, his voice drawing the attention of several lurkers who had kept their sights trained on them since they arrived. That small action seemed to tell those unfriendly faces that they weren’t intimidated in the least, despite being relatively new faces in this establishment. The staring masses seemed to be satisfied with Zeeke’s show of confidence and they went about their business as usual.

He sure was good at reading a room, Poe thought. That could come in handy.

“I’ve seen a few princesses. Most of them always wear fancy dresses with too much jewellery. The kind of too much that means they aren’t in the least bit worried about losing one of their eight rings. Heck, I once saw a prince wearing so much jewellery I mistook him for a woman,” Zeeke told Paige. She found his slip up amusing. “Don’t laugh, it was an honest mistake. Besides, if you’d seen him, you’d be thrown for a loop too.”

Paige poked his side with a large grin, “What, did the handsome prince fluster you?”

Zeeke scoffed, “No. And he wasn’t handsome.” He stuck out his thumb close to Poe’s chin. “Poe is handsome. He was… beautiful. Hence the reason I mistook him for a princess.” His words came out nonchalantly like he was telling Paige water was wet.

Paige snorted loudly, a laugh braced behind her palm as she tried to hold back her laughing fit.

“Well, I guess all we have to do is look for a beautiful man who wears a lot of jewellery,” Poe teased with a half-smirk.

Zeeke mouthed a ‘Ha-ha’ before he tapped on Poe’s jacket discretely, “Actually, I think I’ve spotted them.” He nudged his nose towards a table in the back placed in a poorly lit area with five people sat around it. At first glance, they would seem to blend right in, but upon a more thorough observation, Poe noticed they were more guarded than most of the people inside this cramped space.

Sat in the farthest right corner of the table was a tall, stout man with a gut protruding over his belt. He wore a small sleeveless jacket that looked ridiculous on his frame. It was probably too small for Poe’s shoulders. Perhaps Paige or Zeeke would have fit into it better. Beside the large man was a Jawa sitting on top of stacked crates. His arms waved around energetically as some of his Jawaese made its way to Poe’s unfamiliar ears. Listening attentively was a woman in mechanics overalls. Her posture was slumped and her face marred by dark rings under her eyes –a blaster holstered at her thigh. She wasn’t unattractive, but sitting beside the much more poised and stiff looking woman dressed in purple, she was easily overlooked. The woman in purple and black was probably the princess. The scary, tall man with his right arm in a sling, casting a deformed shadow over the table, was probably her bodyguard. Though, Poe wondered what good he was to her right now considering his battered state. And as though he had sensed their presence, the man with the dark storm-filled eyes looked over at Poe, a grim line pressing his lips together until they turned near-white. Poe shuddered on reflex.

“So, what now?” Paige asked.

Poe’s fingers smoothed over the data disk he had downloaded Leia’s data packet onto. A hesitancy in his actions as he squared his jaw and let out a breathy sigh. “I guess, now we talk to a princess.”

“Boy, tone down that confidence, why don’t you,” Zeeke jested.

“Are you certain that was the whole message?” Koa inquired in a hushed voice.

Calista’s fingers dipped and ran over the ridges and snaking twists of her newly braided hair, the umber ends reminding her a little too much of her aunt’s signature colour. With distaste, she tossed the heavy braid behind her, feeling it swing and tickle her lower back. “That was all it said,” she replied finally.

“It makes no sense,” Odhen grumbled, as was his usual manner of speaking Calista had discovered. “Why send us all the way out here to find your friend if his half of the message simply lead to co-ordinates in the middle of nowhere? There’s no star, no planet, no planetoid… nothing’s in that quadrant. Except black.”

Everyone turned to Mokk-Toh hoping he would provide them with more answers, but he had been silent ever since she had found him in that cave, lost and despondent. Calista feared that he wouldn’t ever truly recover from the news of Lenora’s death and that worried her. She had always suspected they shared a strong bond, maybe even one that proved to be of an intimate nature, but she had never witnessed more than kind words and trusting gazes shared between them while in their presence. And right now, all she had was speculation. That made her feel… conflicted. Calista was good at reading people, but not when it came to her family. And never when it came to Mokk-Toh. He was an impregnable fortress of secrets and silence. A statuesque sentry, ever on watch.

Mokk-Toh ignored their inquiring gazes, he was too preoccupied with staring at a group of strangers who had just walked into the stuffy space. It was for good reason too, because now those three strangers were walking towards them with purpose. Their leader, a man in a dusty brown jacket, caught Calista’s eye. He looked like a man with a mission. She couldn’t help but notice how kind his eyes were, even if his jaw was set tightly and his shoulders were squared in an intimidating manner.

Calista’s gaze wandered down to the point of contact between Mokk-Toh’s less accurate right hand and his swords frayed hilt. She cleared her throat discretely and he eased up immediately. So did Koa. It seems their pendulum had found a new addition. Now they were a singular organism. A cluster of nerve endings fused together to form a synapse.

The man in the brown jacket kept his hands freely visible at his sides, his blaster clipped firmly in place by his holster. He wanted them to know he wasn’t a threat. Though, Calista also noticed that he was gravitating towards Koa, like she was the authority head at their table. She bit back a humorous smile as he stopped a meter short from Koa’s seat.

“Princess Calista of House Ordell?” he seemed unsure of his own voice, but he still kept his shoulders square.

Odhen hid his snigger behind a loud cough, sending a wink in Ton-Ton’s direction. It went unnoticed. Or so she thought until she saw the young kid with the ringlet curls hold up his finger towards his leader’s back to try and tell him something. The woman with the woolly hat pushed his hand down and muttered something at him with nervous eyes.

Koa cocked her head to the side, staring at the three strangers with an impressive poker face. She stayed quiet, deciding it would be more beneficial to see how things played out. For some reason, he took her silence for admission.

“The name’s Poe Dameron,” he offered as he pulled up a chair and joined their table without permission. “This my second mate Paige,” he pointed to the woman behind his left shoulder. “And this is Zeeke.” He pointed to the boy over his right. “General Leia Organa sent me… with this–“

He pulled out a data disk and slid it over the enamel textured table.

Odhen’s smile vanished as soon as he heard the man speak, his brows growing heavy again. Ton-Ton spoke to him, though not as loudly as his usual choice of expression. The boy with the ringlets –Zeeke– lifted his chin slightly at the sound of Jawaese. Calista wondered if he was familiar with the dialect.

Calista opened her mouth to say something when Poe spoke over her, “I’ve been sent here to bring you back with us… to our base.”

“Why should I trust anything you say?” Koa stared him down.

The smaller woman, Paige, gulped in place of Poe.

Poe ruffled his hair and rubbed his hand over his scruff growing just below his nose, “Look, princess, I’m just following orders. I was told you needed my help. Here I am.” There was a slight petulance to his tone that made Calista chuckle softly. Koa and Mokk-Toh didn’t find his tone of voice as amusing.

Zeeke bent side-ways towards Paige and whispered something into her ear. Suddenly her eyes went buggy as she turned her focus to Odhen, her mouth pried open by whatever it was Zeeke had told her. The burly pilot was made aware of the woman staring at him by the crude way in which Ton-Ton had jabbed at his resting palm. With a pained snarl, he retracted his hand and stood off the stool.

“I’m heading to the Somnambulist, gonna make sure she’s all fuelled up. If you see Maz, don’t tell her I’m here,” he said as he pulled Ton-Ton behind him in the red trolley.

Calista, Mokk-Toh and Koa all hummed in unison as they watched their pilot stride away. What ensued next was a series of rapid fired back and forth between Koa and Poe. Both of whom grew more and more annoyed by the others arrogance, impatience and reluctance to back down. Calista had tuned them out as she stared at the data disk under Poe’s palm. It looked to be the same make as the ones she and Mokk-Toh had been entrusted with. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Calista tried to speak for a second time, but it was Mokk-Toh who spoke this time, “We need to leave.”

“Do you sense something?” Calista asked in their native tongue.

Mokk-Toh gave a rigid nod as he trained his eyes up, not to the ceiling, but beyond. His good arm reaching to massage the tender flesh of his formerly dislocated left shoulder. “Now,” he advised.

A crackling noise moved through the structure, a tingle lining every metal structure. Zeeke pinched his muscles to stop the cramp that had been triggered in his two fingers bending unnaturally.

“What was that?” Paige asked.

“It felt like a pulse,” Poe replied.

“We’re too late…” Mokk-Toh said.

Calista scurried after the panicked Mokk-Toh as he rushed out of the cantina and made his way to the spot where the Somnambulist was parked. Koa and Poe were right on their heels, the two of them still locked in a heated battle of words.

“I must insist you and your people return with me, you’ll be safer there,” he argued.

“No place is safe in the galaxy right now,” she bit back.

He sighed, “Look, you’re my mission and I always complete my mission.”

“You’re going to be sorely disappointed then.”

Without warning, a gust of strong winds blew through a brush of dense trees and then a hot, blinding flash of light devoured a sector of the forest and left nothing behind but the thrum of the earth quaking beneath their feet and ash where trees used to be.

“By the stars… Poe,” Paige tugged on his brown jacket. “Isn’t that where…”

Poe forced his spit down with a rough bob of his Adam’s apple, “The Rose One…”

Calista’s eyes narrowed when she felt Mokk-Toh’s grip grow stone cold and then let go of her wrist. He unfastened the knot that held his sling in place and his bones groaned and popped in agony as he stretched it free. Dark bruises and fresh cuts marring his skin.

He unsheathed his sword and his voice turned dark, “He’s here.”

Automatically, she reached for her blasters handle.

“Who?” Zeeke turned to them, worried and afraid –though valiantly keeping his wits about him.

Mokk-Toh’s glazed over, “Versengen.”

Then, as if on cue, an ugly, droning ship glided through the air and set itself down a few paces in front of them. The doors peeled back and out of the darkness, the bounty hunter emerged.

“I told you, I’d find you.” the masked hunter’s voice was distorted. “And look,” he tilted his head as far as his restrictive armour would let him. “You’ve got friends.” His laugh sounded like someone choking on marbles. “Hello… Calista. You look so much like your father…”

My father? She wondered. What does he have to do with any of this?

Shivers prickled at her tired flesh as another ripple of unnerving laughter filled the air. Calista’s stomach grew tight and her chest felt hollow when the burning odours in the air filled her lungs. There it was again… despair.

To be continued...

Tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees@carolinamalo53 @everything-intertwined

#poe dameron #star wars #poe dameron imagine #poe x ofc #poe x calista #sw tfa #sw tlj #oricignal characters #star wars imagine

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cami-chats · 5 years

Text

In Your Camera Roll

Title: In Your Camera Roll

Link: AO3

Square Filled: Sending A Dick Pic

Ship: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes

Rating: Explicit

Major Tags: None

Summary: “Bucky was innocently working at home when a wrong text makes his night much more enjoyable.”

Word Count: 1841

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Full text also below

Bucky was editing his ass off when he got a text. He didn't recognize the number, but Steve had just gotten a new phone. Last Bucky had heard, he was setting it up while also trying to move Sam's things in.

Unknown Number: :photo:

Bucky rolled his eyes. It was probably a picture of Steve drinking from Sam's favorite mug or something equally stupid and sappy, so he swiped to open it without much thought.

And a dick showed up.

Bucky blinked.

Another text came in before he had a chance to even attempt to think of a response, mostly because his mind had stalled at the picture. He was horny more often than not, mostly because he hadn't had a boyfriend in years, and he'd stopped doing hookups when he got the prosthetic because people either said that he should warn people he had a piece of technology attached to him, or they had a fetish. Either way it wasn't fun, which meant that it had been a while since someone showed him their dick with intention. He didn't appreciate the fact that this was the first text this number had ever sent him, but even jerks had nice cocks sometimes, and lord did this man have a nice one. It was leaning against his stomach, flushed and absolutely mouth watering where it curved against olive skin.

;) Then, a minute later, Oh shit.

Wrong number

Fuck

I'm sorry

Please tell me you're not underage

Oh my god I'm so sorry

Bucky appreciated that, and now that he knew this was a case of wrong number and not completely unsolicited dick pics to a random number, it was pretty funny. He thought about just saying that it was fine, but, as previously mentioned, it had been so long since he'd gotten any that he was willing to take a little risk. He looked at the picture again, then shot off a text.

Nice dick man :tongue:

I don't have plans if you don't

He sent the texts before he could second guess himself, and figured that the worst case scenario was the guy turned out to be a homophobe and Bucky blocked his number.

Tell me you're not underage before I say anything else :suspicious face:

Lol if I'm underage then why did I have to make my own doctor's appointment

It was a valid question.

Now that that's over...

:smirking face: Tit for tat

Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have tits. It took a minute for Bucky to find, copy, and paste the shrug emoji. With a sigh, he set his phone to the side and went back to the open document on his computer, then made a face. He'd gone over this story so many times, he wasn't sure he'd know if he had the same paragraph to start all the chapters. His phone buzzed with another message, but he ignored it, staring at the too-bright screen and trying to will himself to get back to it.

He picked up his phone. All the better for sending me a pic of your cock. Come on fuel my imagination

Shouldn't you be texting the person you meant to send that to?

What makes you think I'm not?

I mean

I'm not.

Because he's a dick

Then why were you texting him??

Good phone sex voice. Pretty sure he's saving the pics I send him for blackmail purposes but eh wouldn't be the first time that happened.

You need to find a better bed partner

You offering?

Bucky hadn't really meant for it to sound like an offer, but hell he could go for that. It had been, god going on two years since he'd had sex, a little sexting was more action than he'd seen in a while. He was a little nervous about this-- the guy was a complete stranger after all-- but what was the harm? Worst case scenario was a random guy had a few naughty texts and maybe a dick pic or two for his own collection; it's not like he knew who Bucky was or even what he looked like.

Sure am sugar. Give me a lil something and I'll give you a pic of your own :winky face:

Does my first dick pic not count as something?

That was for someone else, I want something of my own

Hmm

You an ass man?

:drooling face: :peach: :peach: :peach: :heart eyes:

Lol

One min.

He probably didn't have too great of an ass, but just thinking about it was making Bucky harder. He pushed himself away from the desk, one hand clasped around his phone, the other adjusting himself through his pants. He shooed his cat-- Winter-- off his bed, and he took off in a huff for the kitchen, probably to knock pictures off the wall in protest. He threw his phone down on the newly vacated bed and started to shuck off his clothes. He paused when he got to his pants though, figuring that it was better to get a picture now, just in case that's the sort of thing this guy wanted.

He had to turn on the lights for it, and he really hoped this guy was worth it because now he was squinting uncomfortably after being in the dark for so long. He hooked a thumb in his underwear then stopped and switched hands so his prosthetic wasn't visible. He took a couple pictures and hoped one of them was decent; it's not like he had a lot of experience with this.

Just as he was about to set his phone down again, a text came through.

:photo:

Bucky choked on his tongue as all his blood rushed south. He took back every single doubtful thought he'd had about this man and the quality of his ass because good lord. He had to do squats every day or something, because no one got an ass like that from sitting at a desk all day. Not to mention those boxer briefs were practically painted on, a vibrant red that clung to perfect curves.

I'm saving that pic for later

Just fyi

God knows he'd be jerking off to that picture for the foreseeable future; it was only fair to tell the guy responsible for it.

Was that enough to inspire you? :winky face:

Bucky looked through the pictures he'd taken. They looked inadequate in comparison, but he chose the one where the head of his cock was peeking out the top of his underwear and his hand could be seen cupping his balls over the fabric.

Ooo :tongue: Do I get the rest if I ask nicely?

Nah :winking face: Bucky kicked his clothes off and took another picture, his hand wrapped around the base, and sent it. He opened the photo of that marvelous backside and moved his hand over his erection slowly. "Mm." His eyes fluttered closed and he relaxed into his mattress as he teased his length. That was an ass so good he wouldn't even need to be buried inside of it for it to be wonderful. Give him a handful (and an eyeful), and he'd be good to go.

He was jerked from his imagining of what it would look like without the fabric by his phone ringing. "I swear to god if this is Steve..." He answered with a short, "What," without even looking at the number. Which, in hindsight, wasn't a well thought out idea.

The person on the other end snorted. "Wow you that nice to everyone you send dick pics too?"

Bucky blew out a breath, relaxing again. "I didn't check to see who it was. Uh, why'd you call?"

"I get off a lot better with someone's voice in my ear than just a few pics on my phone. Probably should have asked first," he mused, and Bucky chuckled.

"Don't you hang up, it's now your responsibility to talk me to an orgasm."

"Out of curiosity, do you always answer the phone when you're jerking off?"

"You overestimate how often I get phone calls. What's your name honey?"

"Tony." A pause. "This is where you tell me yours."

Bucky laughed a little. "Bucky. So Tony, come here often?"

"I hate you," Tony said, voice unbearably fond. "Tell me what you're doing."

"Jerkin' off."

"You've never done phone sex before have you," Tony said, sounding amused.

Bucky huffed, taking his hand off his erection. "Can't say I have. Shouldn't you have asked if I was any good at it before ya tried?"

"I had faith. I still have faith."

"Keep dreamin'," Bucky snorted. "I never was any good at talkin'."

"Well that's fine babe cause I can talk enough for the both of us," Tony purred. "I'm laying on my bed right now. I've got lube next to me, but I haven't really touched myself yet. What do you say, you want me to finger myself?"

"Yeah," Bucky breathed. "God that's-" his throat clicked.

He heard a noise and assumed it was the lid of the blue getting taken off. "Tell me what you're doing."

"Tony, I told you I ain't--"

"Think about how I did it," he soothed. "Told you where I was, gave you an idea for how close I was. So tell me baby, where are you right now?"

Bucky licked his lips, trying not to feel embarrassed. "I'm in my room. Uh, on my bed, layin' down. Before you called I was thinking 'bout your ass and uh touching myself."

"You got any lube?"

"I didn't grab it," he admitted, blushing a little.

Tony huffed out a laugh. "I have to do all the work around here. Grab your lube sweetie, you're saving tomorrow-you some pain now. You can thank me later, in the form of electronic roses and assurances that I'm the best you've ever had."

Bucky got to his feet while Tony was talking, padding to his bathroom and grabbing the half empty bottle-- right next to the who-am-I-kidding unopened box of condoms-- before going back to his room.

It took embarrassingly little time for Bucky to come with Tony's voice in his ear, whispering dirty things between moans and gasps as he pleasured himself, but Tony was close behind him, so he didn't feel too bad about it.

When they were both done panting, Tony said, "Okay, I'd love to stay up and have a little pillow talk, but I do actually have to get up early tomorrow."

Bucky laughed breathlessly. "Alright. Have a goodnight Tony. When you jerk off tomorrow morning, I expect you ta think of me."

"Oh I will," Tony promised. "Night sweetheart."

"G'night."

In the morning, Bucky texted him every flower emoji he could find, followed by Definitely the best I've ever had. Wanna spice it up a little next time? I swear I'm better in person

He didn't know how his proposal would be taken, so he waited anxiously for a reply, trying not to stare at his phone.

Name a time and a place :peach: :eggplant: :splash:

#mcukinkbingo #marvel #fanfic #winteriron #bucky barnes #tony stark #my writing

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maternalcube · 5 years

Text

i did an art summary so now im doing a fic summary. i was tagged by @jamthedingus also!! ive never done one of these before!! lets go!!!

Rest (13106)

Keith & Lance's Island Adventure (20631)

Atlantis (10014 words)

The Way to a Man’s Heart (6858 words)

nobody's business (2096 words)

leave, and take (557 words)

dead girl walking (1661 words)

the course of fate (1039 words)

who ya gonna call (465 words)

come here often? (806 words)

til kingdom come (1950 words)

stars in the sky (pt 2) (5404 words)

a song of falling (630 words)

Eyes to the Sky (3683 words)

Feet on the Ground (4050 words)

Divergence (6669 words)

homecoming (1426 words)

Window of Opportunity (11144 words)

along that wilderness of glass (3801 words)

string theory (2327 words)

Katt Week (1062 words)

The Pining-Plant (3860 words)

at the end of many worlds (21684 words)

you're my home (19646 words)

Believe Me (3177 words)

Starchild (3568 words)

Summer Heat (2285 words)

third time's the charm (5349 words)

Blackbird (59546 words)

The Sixth Planet (9444 words)

all the infinite realities (1197 words)

Total Fics: 31! (plus one i posted anonymously lmao) Total Words: 229999! (except parts of string theory and the sixth planet were actually posted last year... but still, what a number)

more under the cut!

Ship/character breakdown: i didnt filter out my prompt collection or abandoned wips here so /shrug Ship breakdown:

klance - 6 sheith - 5 shance - 5 katt - 4 heith - 3 pallura - 2 and one each of plance, kallura, allurance, shatt, shkatt, kidge, kidgance, and shunk. and keiths parents lol. let it never be said i am not a multishipper.

and i know gen isnt a ship but it tied with klance at 6 (plus whatevers in the prompt collection) which was a surprise

Character breakdown: man if theres a way to get ao3 to show me ALL the stats, i dont know it. but.

keith - 25 (shocker) shiro - 23 lance - 21 pidge - 17 hunk - 16 allura - 12 matt - 12 and then coran and sam are at 4, and zarkon ats 3 and presumably many others are at 3 or less

Characters that had the main focus: well ~9 were from keiths pov, and ~5 each from shiro and lances povs. i think i also had ~5 from multiple points of view. its safe to say that keith has my heart tho lol

Specifics:

Best/worst title? Best title: i still like “at the end of many worlds.” i weirdly still like “Blackbird” too even if it has nothing to do with anything... Worst title: “Rest.” :/ also like all of the abandoned wips bc i didnt care. and “Keith & Lance's Island Adventure.″ some of my zine fic titles were also... bad. im bad at titles.

Best/worst first line?

Best: Keith & Lance's Island Adventure. ok the title is bad but this line? this really sets the tone for whole fic. you know what youre getting yourself into here.

When Pidge invited Keith to a fully-funded graduation party aboard the Holt family boat (“the smaller one, anyway,” she’d said), this is not exactly what he'd pictured: three of them standing on a wobbly dock, packed bags at their feet, sky cloudy and gray, while the Holt siblings stand on a little ledge off the back of the boat and deny entry.

Worst: ive got two for this lol

at the end of many worlds: even i have to read this a couple times to figure out what i was trying to say. at least you know youre in for pain...

Keith’s mother shows up to interrupt movie night often enough that, this time, Keith almost doesn’t realize anything’s wrong. Almost, because she’s silhouetted by the movie, but she’s clutching her arm and panting for breath, and in the thin edge of light around her he sees a wet and vibrant red.

Divergence: because all your friends being dead is EXACTLY like losing at dodgeball. yeah, theres a reason i abandoned this one.

Hunk always hated playing dodgeball. Not because he was bad at it--though he was--but because he always ended up the last one standing, and therefore the only target for the entire other team. It was due to a tendency to hang unnoticed in the back, he knew, but that didn't change the sickening, empty feeling of looking around and realizing there's no one left but him, and there's no way he can win. Only wait for the inevitable.

This, Hunk decides, is a lot like that, only, like, a billion times worse.

Best/worst last line?

Best: The Pining-Plant. there are a few others that were cute too but this one is also good out of context so

And then the pod swishes open and he's scrambling to catch Pidge as she stumbles out. She clings to his arms to steady herself and his heart swells.

"Falling for me again, huh?" he asks, and she groans loudly.

"Let me go, I'm getting back in the pod," she says, and he laughs. He doesn't let go, and neither does she.

Worst: if im bad at titles, im worse at endings. most are bad. i suspect the ending to “Rest” is terrible but i cant bring myself to even open that shit again so: Believe Me. if weather were a recurring theme in this fic, itd be fine, but as is its just... a weird note to end the fic on lmao

Hunk rocks back on his heels. "We aren't counting this as our official first date, right?"

"I dunno," Keith says, and now he smiles at the rain instead of frowning. It shows no sign of easing up, but whatever—they're soaked anyway. "This seems pretty good to me."

“...All right.” If nothing else, it’ll make a good story. And, Hunk had to admit—he’s pretty happy with how it’s turned out, rain and all.

But next time, he's double-checking the forecast, just in case.

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

more than i expected! considering ive been in grad school all year!! i wrote about the same amount wordcount-wise in 2017 which i spent only half in school so. idk how i managed it.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

the anonymous fic was a surprise but im not gonna talk about that lol. otherwise... nah, its all been my usual stuff.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

blackbird, probably. i like working on that one. summer heat was also fun, id sort of forgotten about it bc it was a zine fic but coming back to it, i really liked it. likewise with third time’s the charm. and i like t6p a lot even if i kinda hate drawing for it :’)

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

depends on your metric. window of opportunity has the most kudos, keith and lance’s island adventure has the most hits, and t6p has the most comments and subscriptions.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

AT THE END OF MANY WORLDS. oh man i killed myself over that fic. it was important to me. but i think the mcd scared everyone off :’)

Story that could have been better?

i realize “all of them” is kind of a cop out answer but like

Sexiest story?

i have written nothing sexy, ever, in my whole life

Saddest story?

i mean, ateomw. considering all the death. blackbird def has its moments too.

Most fun?

i feel like i answered this in the favorite story q lmao. you’re my home also gets a shoutout, that thing was,, super self-indulgent lmao. and id be lying if i said i didnt have fun with parts of ateomw, even if its mostly sad.

Story with single sweetest moment?

man i write a lot of fluff but so much of you’re my home is just tooth-rotting. heres part of the proposal scene lmao

"Lance!" Keith yelps, barely rescuing the ring from falling into the sand with them. Lance pushes himself up on his arms, silhouetted by the sun and glowing with it.

"Really?" he asks breathlessly.

"Yeah," Keith says, and maybe he should've prepared something to say, that's a thing people do, right? Hell, he's winging it. "I know we can't stay here on Earth forever, 'cause we're paladins, and there's still stuff out there we gotta do. And I know you probably want to stay because this is your home—but you're my home, and if we gotta go, at least you'll have me, good or bad." He grins crookedly. "Or rocket science. Whatever happens, I'll be there."

Hardest story to write?

well t6p gets a shoutout, but its not the writing thats the hard part for that. uhhh ive struggled with parts of blackbird. i remember k&l’s island adventure giving me a LOT of trouble, i think i posted late lol

Easiest/most fun story to write?

anything short uhhh for all the infinite realities, i kind of just sat down the other day (actually i was in bed but) and was like “im gonna write this” and then in the morning i just sat down and wrote it in one go. i dunno if id call it fun, but it was easy. t6p is super fun to write but, as mentioned, drawing it sucks.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

no... my perceptions probably have shifted but not due to anything i wrote in particular. i did talk myself into liking allurance with a prompt fill, though, but im not sure that was 2018...

Most overdue story?

all the infinite realities lmao. at the end of many worlds needed that happy ending. and another shoutout to t6p, because thats been going on over a year and im still nowhere.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

does posting my abandoned wips count? ive still got some of those hanging around... blackbird was a bit of a risk bc my last longfic was written while i was unemployed and out of school, so like i had the time for it, and now i kinda dont. still chugging tho. ateomw b/c of all the death but it turns out i really like writing whump woops. and writing any sort of kissing always feels like a risk bc i suck at it but im getting better lol... i hope...

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

write more! finish things! do more sheith! i really want to work on this sheith longfic i came up with the other day... but i want to get blackbird over with first.

Tagging: eh! do it if you want to!

#i need a fic tag #HOO BOY

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maychorian · 6 years

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Get to Know the Author

Tagged by @eastofthemoon. Thank you!

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

“Maychoria” was the name of the main country in the fantasy novel I wrote when I was thirteen and fourteen. It means “happy land,” based on two words I found in a Greek dictionary we had in the house. So “Maychorian” basically means “inhabitant of the happy land.”

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos).

On AO3, A Split-Second of Violence still has the most views and kudos and bookmarks, over 46k hits and almost 2500 kudos and 762 bookmarks. The first and second Boom Crash stories combined beat it, though, and Sell Me Your Nightmares beats it for comment threads. Over all platforms, I’m pretty sure my most famous fic ever is still Entertaining Angels, a deaged Castiel fic I wrote at the cusp of Supernatural fandom, just as Castiel was starting to get popular. I happened to write that story at the exact right time, in the mid-season break when everyone was hungry for more of the intriguing character we’d just been introduced to, and cute deaged angel boy trying to help Sam and Dean with their respective traumas was bound to be a hit no matter who wrote it. Plus I gave him pneumonia. It’s a thing I do.

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

Same as my current tumblr icon. Cuz Lance has the best expressions and he’s the cutest and the best.

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

I do, and I love them and appreciate them so, so much. If you comment on a lot of my fics and/or chapters, you’d better believe I notice, and I love you, even if I don’t respond.

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

Basically anything in this tag: https://maychorianrecs.tumblr.com/tagged/personal-favorite.

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

Oh, golly. My work subscriptions at AO3 is currently at fifteen pages. A lot of those are completed or abandoned, though. No idea how many fics and authors I’m still subscribed to on ff.n, mostly in dead fandoms. I have 80 bookmarks on AO3 at the moment, but that is not an accurate representation of the fics I like and recommend others read. That would be @maychorianrecs, which currently has 681 posts and isn’t even complete even for the Voltron fandom, let alone the other fandoms I read now or have read in the past.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

The Dream Seam ‘verse is definitely the one that owns the largest part of my brain right now, but I’m also looking forward to getting back to my DnD AU once I finish my current big projects. I tend to write more canon-divergence AUs than alternate realities, in most cases. I like exploring how things can differ across time if one small (or large) change is made in the setting we know and love. Like what if Castiel went back in time and ended up as Sam and Dean’s older brother? Love that one.

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

User Subscriptions: 617 Kudos: 27064 Comment Threads: 5019 Bookmarks: 5631 Subscriptions: 2713 Word Count: 1169905 Hits: 325489

That’s insane, and it’s only in the last three or four years, since I didn’t really start using AO3 until mid-2014. I have a lot more before that on ff.n and other sites.

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

If there’s something I want to write and share, I will find a way.

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

I wish I was better at action. It always takes me a lot time to sort of choreograph it in my head and then describe it in a way that makes sense. I also need to work on writing believable romance, since I want to eventually write more mainstream fiction, and it’s pretty normal for characters to have romances. I can’t just write everyone as being aro/ace or siblings, though I kind of want to. I wish I wasn’t such a procrastinator and had more energy to spare on responding to comments, because I really do love them and appreciate them.

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

Only if you count gen as a rarepair, which it kind of is. Otherwise, no ships for me, ever. I tried it. Didn’t much like it.

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

70. Some of them are reposts. Eventually I need to get all of my fics over to AO3. It’s definitely the superior platform nowadays.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

Unposted? Mm, more than five, less than a dozen. I tend to post things as soon as I’m halfway satisfied, because I crave that sweet, sweet feedback.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

They’re mostly up in my head. If it changes by the time I start to write it, that’s fine. And if I forget an idea, a new one will come along sooner or later. I write in the now.

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

Yes, a few times, most recently with ardett for Sewing Patches. It was a great experience.

16. How did you discover AO3?

Back when it was just getting started, I got an invite to the beta from an LJ friend. It wasn’t until years later that I got into sports anime fandom and decided I wanted to start using it, so I searched my email to find that years-old invite and used it.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

I’m well-known in the gen corner of my fandom, which is not the same thing as being a BNF in the fandom as a whole. I have no doubt that 99% of Klance fans have no idea who I am, and Klance basically IS the Voltron fandom, much to my annoyance. But I’m fine with the way things are. I interact with cool people all the time and get to show them awesome stuff and get nice feedback when I post fics, and that’s what I want.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

Nah. That seems kind of pretentious and arrogant.

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

I’ve wanted to write since before I knew how to read, as far back as I can remember. As soon as I understand that those scribbles on a page meant something and told stories, I wanted to tell my own. Certainly in my teenage years I was very inspired by the fantasy and science fiction authors I adored, like Tolkien, Lewis, MacDonald, Orson Scott Card, Stephen King, Tamora Pierce, etc. I have been encouraged along the way by many, many fellow writers, as well. But as far as an instigating person at the very beginning, I can’t think of one. I just always knew that this was what I wanted to do with my life.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

Just do it. Post it if you’re brave, keep it to yourself if you’re not. Make yourself happy first. Find one person who will read and enjoy your stuff, otherwise it will get stale writing only for yourself. But first and foremost, stoke the fire in your own belly until you have no choice but to use it, to let it fly from your fingers in words and paragraphs. Once you start, keep going, even when the fire burns low. Discipline is more important than inspiration in the long term, but inspiration is how you start.

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

Mostly the latter. I’ve written from outlines in the past, and I sometimes do extensive freewriting before I start something to give myself some semblance of structure, but working from a strict outline isn’t really fun for me. I’d much rather discover the story as I go. I subscribe to the Stephen King school of writing, the idea that a story is a boulder you dig up with a lot of hard work and exploring. Granted, that doesn’t always work perfectly, and it can lead to stories that are overlong and oddly structured or dissatisfying, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take in order to enjoy the process as much as possible.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

Occasionally, mostly not on AO3. My feedback there is by and large very kind and enthusiastic. Every once in a while I’ll get a weird comment on ff.n complaining about some choice I made or chastising me for not doing what they wanted or expected with the story. Mostly I just laugh and let them go, though they used to bother me a lot. Once in a while they’ll make a solid point, and I’ll think about it, and maybe change the story a bit to satisfy the issue that’s bothering me, not for their satisfaction but for my own. That’s exceedingly rare, though. I think I’ve done it twice.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

Action is hard, yes. Dialogue and emotional scenes come easily, so naturally that’s the bulk of my stuff.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

My ongoing series and stories are all currently in posting. I have some ideas on the backburner that I haven’t started working on yet, but I’m not the kind of writer who finishes a project before posting, so there’s nothing going on that my readers don’t already know about.

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

Often as I’m finishing up a long project my mind will already be working on what’s next, yes. Not really planning so much as just daydreaming and working out scenarios in my head, but I do like that I never run out of things to do.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

I try to write at least 750 words every day. Not always fiction, though, sometimes it’s freewriting or a diary entry. This post will probably be my writing for today.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

Indubitably, since for the very first story I wrote I asked my mom how to spell the word “fan.” I was five.

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

Oof, that’s hard. In Voltron, probably Bury the Sun. I keep going back and re-reading that one. It just…hits my buttons. On purpose. I did that. In all of my fandoms ever, probably Coming Down on a Sunny Day. It came together in an extremely satisfying way, and I’m very proud of it, even though the last part never got very much feedback since the fandom had moved on by the time I wrote and posted it.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

I started writing an original fantasy fiction called Cat by Night with the idea of posting it on Amazon and making money with it. But I started it out in very YA fashion with an incipient romance, and it just bored me to tears. I hated it. I couldn’t do it. Romance is not for me.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

I would love to develop my original fiction and discipline myself enough to actually start publishing stuff on Amazon and eventually make enough money to live on, maybe with the help of Patreon. RIght now, though, fanfiction takes up all my creative energy, and I don’t know how I would justify making a living off that.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

Making characters cuddle.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

Getting characters to the point where the cuddling makes sense and feels in character.

33. Why do you write?

For the sake of the cuddles, mostly. Also because I can’t imagine not writing.

No tagging today because I’m exhausted, but feel free if you want to do this.

#writing #life #me #tag meme

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