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yeahlenas · 3 years

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yelena belova | best fanfic recommendation list

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

welcome to my masterlist of yelena (and natasha) centric fanfiction - there’s not too many out there, but i suspect the tag will explode after the movie finally comes out. but until then i thought i’d share with you the works i’ve found and that i enjoyed immensely!!

this list includes fics with yelena as the main character (not too many), and others where yelenat is the main pairing (romantically/platonically), or yelena is not the main character but still is important and featured.

hopefully this list will give you some new epic content and inspiration for your own works! (cause let’s be honest the internet needs more of these incredible characters)

my own works:

starting this off with some shameless selfpromo hehe ≧◡≦. i never really wrote fanfiction before the character of yelena came and gave me so much inspiration and motivation!!

if i had to perish twice (edge of tomorrow au)

status: completed 1/1 words: 19,549

a loooong and good one (unbiased) to get you started!! this is by far the longest piece of writing i’ve ever done and i’m super proud of it! this is an au of the movie edge of tomorrow, and yelena is the main protagonist. there is also implied stucky and a lot of the avengers show up throughout. yelenat is the main pairing! you don’t have to watch the movie to understand it (i hope), i’ve tried to explain it in the fic to the best of my ability! (that being said, watching the trailer helps and ofc the movie is the very best option, it’s on netflix!)

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082565

i tend not to weep

status: completed 1/1 words: 3,166

natasha and yelena’s cover is blown, and when they escape their plane is shot down - injured yelenat, hurt & comfort and angst.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334447

i’ll be the actress (starring in your bad dreams)

status: completed 1/1 words: 2,610

two russian assassins walk into a bar. it doesn't go how either of them had planned.

a crossover with killing eve, in which yelena meets the mysterious character of villanelle during a mission.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617044

you’ll have a good time with all of these amazing fics:

drip (that’s the sound of your ledger) | LOVE THIS ONE

“ There were whispers, after S.H.I.E.L.D.'s fall. They followed Natasha wherever she went, until she could ignore them no longer.

Welcome back to the Red Room.”

status: completed 13/13 words: 86,222 author: songofdefiance

THIS. this fic came out of nowhere and hit me until i was down (and then some more) with the pairing of nat and sharon which i didn’t know i needed!!! great twists, fun adventure, and yelena is giving me all the feels in this one. high re-readability!! the entire fic is incredible and 10000% worth your time - it is also the first in an incredible series, and yelena features more heavily as we go along. i wish i could read it for the first time again!!

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156134

part one of the this won’t end with a whimper series: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156134

black widow: from brooklyn with love

“Rosa Diaz thought her past was dead and buried somewhere out in the Siberian tundra. But when Natasha Romanoff shows up at the 99 with a smile and a bundle of secrets, she knows she has no choice but to finish what Red Room started.”

status: completed 12/12 words: 37,573 author: wonderlander090

i love brooklyn99. i love yelena and natasha. the genius of wonderlander090 wrote a fic of everyone together and it’s SO MUCH FUN! features badass ladies, red room feels and overall epicness.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13387431

black widow

“After she released every piece of her secrecy to the world, Natasha Romanoff flees to get back her feeling of being a competent spy. Unfortunately, her old enemies have resurfaced, and have plans that force Natasha to meet old partners and old horrors. “

completed 17/17 words: 58,155 author: clarkesjade

the author’s wonderful take on the black widow movie. personal stakes, dark enemies and espionage with the great trio of nat, yelena and bucky against the world.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284406

taipei

“Yelena is nowhere to be seen, and considering the circumstances, Natalia knows far better than to presume that means she made it out.”

status: completed 1/1 words: 1,518 author: novoaa1 (@ultralightdumbass)

yelenat banter, the best banter there is!! in which yelena and natasha’s paths crosses on a mission.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994090

part of the chance encounter series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809355

remember when we used to play?

“Natalia loves Yelena as fire loves innocence. It destroys and ruins and is doomed.”

status: completed 1/1 words: 2,315 author: hellotomyoldheart (@hellotomyoldheart)

a couple thousand words to step on my heart a couple thousand times :)) a yelenat with red room feels, and just a shit ton of feels in general lol help

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664936

youth (makes fools of us all)

“In 1994, a young Widow is assigned an important mission playing the wife of the Red Guardian. In 1994, two students are selected to accompany them.In 1994, against all machinations of the Red Room, a family is made.“

status: completed 1/1 words: 4,871 author: sanctuaria (@aleksandrachaev)

no words for this beautiful piece!! with the release of the new trailer something like this is canon now, and the entire idea of pretending to be a family and then natasha and yelena becoming one in their hearts is just OWWW, run me over instead, it’d hurt less

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954776

what a wicked game to play (to make me feel this way)

“after you win the games, you lose.” hunger games au.

status: complete 1/1 words: 60,545 author: taylorswift (not THAT ts haha (at least i dont think so??))

this is a clintasha au, so don’t expect tooo much yelena. i love the relationship between yelena and nat in this one though, so here it is!!

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957505

you made it this far (just a little bit more)

“I'm dead, Yelena says, I killed myself in that room, Natasha didn't need to shoot me for that, and isn't sure it translates.”

status: completed 1/1 series 3/3 words: 35,939 author: notcaycepollard (@notcaycepollard)

yelena is the main character in part 3 of this time travel fix it series. feels a bit au because (obviously) a lot of things were changed and their lives end up being very different. very happy take on everything and if you want some good old serotonin and good times for our characters, this one is so good!!

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913387

part 3 of the a flame in two cupped hands series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538677

the end (for now) (◕︵◕)

as you can see i get all my yelena fics from ao3, i think that site is just so wonderful and easy to navigate!! i’m updating the yelena tag often, and i’m constantly looking for new good fics to share - so if you’re interested, bookmark this/follow me for future updates! if you have any personal favorites from ao3 that i’ve missed, or from other sites, do not hesitate to share them with me so i can update the list!!

(also i tried to tag the authors i could find on tumblr but idk if it worked?)

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chocoholicannanymous · 3 years

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If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic.

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #kurtbastian #itshtf

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purpleyellow · 3 years

Text

Mentor

BTS 8th member + TXT 6th member

Sunny’s masterlist + Minji’s masterlist

“The first time Sunny and Minji met”

a/n: Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open! 💜💚

Minji stared at the door from the hallway. She wasn’t sure if she could just walk inside or if somebody was going to come out to call for her, either way, the best thing to do would probably be to wait. If nobody came out she’d knock to make sure she should even be there.

Waking her up from her thoughts, the elevator’s door opened and from it, Sunny walked out with her head low. Reading something on her phone, the idol didn’t notice the girl standing there and walked straight inside the door Minji had been watching over.

Looking further interested, she saw Sunny stop right before the door closed shut and walk back out while searching through the hallway to find her casually leaning against the wall.

“You can come in too” Sunny laughed as Minji gave her a deep bow. Both girls going inside the room, greeting Bang Sihyuk and pulling a chair once he indicated for them to sit.

“I wouldn’t look much into this meeting, the only reason you two are here is to meet each other,” He told them laughing and both girls exchanged tight smiles.

Indicating with his hand to the youngest he continued “Minji here is in the lineup along with some other male trainees. I think her adjustment will be far easier than yours considering they’ve been training together for a long time now. Still, I thought it’d be good for you two to keep in contact and share experiences”

Looking at them expectantly, Bang PD nodded along them. Sunny laughed awkwardly as the three fell silent “Are we supposed to start now?”

“Oh, right. I’ll leave you two to it” He clapped standing up. As he made it to the door, he turned around with both his fists up “Girl power”

The girls looked at each other with dumbfounded faces as the door closed and laughed bringing a more laid-back mood into the room.

“Well. I’m not sure what to say, but if you need to share anything or any help I’m all ears” Sunny said crossing her legs on the chair and tying up her hair in a loose bun.

“Thank you for being available, Sunbaenim. But I don’t think there’s any need for this” Minji shrugged making the idol raise an eyebrow. Shaking her hands she continued “I don’t mean to be rude. Just, there’s really nothing that important going on”

“Uh, you’re debuting next month. That’s pretty important I’d say” Sunny laughed uncomfortably and Minji tilted her head acknowledging it “The members are all nice then? You’re in the middle when it comes to age right?”

“Yep” Minji nodded, though she figured from that Sunny might already know who some of them were.

“And they’re easy to talk to?” The idol asked again, stealing a glance at her phone and wondering if the conversation might be heading somewhere at all. “You’ve known them before getting into the group?”

“Yes, and a few of them yes” Minji nodded again. Swinging around on the office chair, she was quicker and made the question this time “Do you think people are going to compare us a lot?”

Taken back by her, Sunny fixed her posture and thought for a bit “Probably, but I wouldn’t care about it”

“And if I potentially had a sister who’s also an idol” Minji cut her off. Leaning forward on the table and resting her head on her hands “They’d do it with her too, right?”

Sunny nodded again. They analyzed each other for a few seconds before the idol cleared her throat “Does this worry you?” She asked tilting her head to one side.

“It crosses my mind now and then” Minji mumbled still staring at her. Sighing, Sunny tried to reassure her “This kind of stuff can’t be helped. But I wouldn’t listen to it. They might mean well, yet it’s never fair to the ones being compared”

“I know. But what if I never break out of it?” The girl tilted her head to the side watching the idol frown

“Do you mean break out like?”

“Being known as something other than ‘the other’. The second daughter. The one after you. It must sound repetitive because everyone wants this, but I mean it when I say all I want is to build a name for myself”

“The fact that you’re convinced enough to say it without a second thought is going to get you great places” Sunny smiled at her, Minji didn’t break eye contact or even tripped herself while talking, and it greatly impressed the older. “If you want something go ahead and do it, don’t care who you are associated with or what others might think. They’ll stop caring about it sooner than you think”

Blinking away, Minji nodded and thought for a moment. “I guess, one of the reasons I didn’t want to think of debuting as such a big deal was so that once people didn’t care about me it wouldn’t care”

“Just live it as you want. I went through it. Your ‘potential sister’ has too” Sunny made air quotes making her laugh “But you’re the one doing it. That’s your own experience that will showcase the work you put into”

“My sister exists… so that won’t make any confusion in the future” Minji mumbled sitting back straight. “Thank you Sunbaenim”

“You can call me Unnie if you want to. Your sister must be proud” Sunny smiled getting up and Minji shook her head.

“She doesn’t know it yet, actually,” The girl said making the idol stop and sit back down, making herself comfortable as she said “Okay, now that sounds like there’s more to it. Have I met her before?”

“Not sure, she’s Mae from The Boyz” Sunny shrugged waving her to continue “We just haven’t talked in a while. The last time I saw her was during Christmas where we exchanged gifts and that was it”

“And you didn’t think of mentioning?”

“She didn’t ask”

“She didn’t know she needed to” Sunny laughed entertained “You really took this whole ‘Debuting isn’t a big deal’ thing seriously”

Shrugging, Minji smiled playfully“At least she’ll be surprised once the news gets out”

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 3 years

Text

A chatty writing update | novels, short fiction, etc!

Hi folks!

It’s been a while since I last wrote an update on this blog! I thought it’d be fun to go back to basics, and just talk about writing. This post chats about: new plans for Feeding Habits, my newest novel, my short story goals & growing collection, along with process reflections.

(image description: a photo of green leaves with the text “writing update” in a white font written on top. /end image description)

Post starts under the cut!

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed)

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting, @aetherwrites, @avakrahn, @maisulli

What have I been up to?

For starters, I finished my second year of my Writing undergrad last week and got two of my final grades back today (A+ baby)! For anyone who has taken online university, y’all already KNOW, but this year was so difficult. Would not recommend! Really proud of myself to have gotten through this absolute rollercoaster of a school term and am excited to get into some writing. That leads us to:

What have I been up to (writing edition)?

2021 started off so fast. By the time January hit, I was so consumed in my new semester that I did not have time to write Feeding Habits (my novel). In the first few days of the term, I managed to write between class, until I could no longer keep up! Essentially, I did not write any of that novel until exam season (last week), where I did manage to get in about 3k words in ~4 days.

Feeding Habits

I’m currently drafting what I believe will be the last chapter of this book (chapter 10: Swan Song). This chapter is so bizarre for a few reasons. It begins the book’s third part and also marks the shift back into Lonan’s head from Harrison’s. I originally thought this part would be much, much longer, with at least another five chapters to go, but quickly realized the book’s content was nearly completed. In my 4 day 3k palooza, I hit 50k in the book (the word count goal), and couldn’t see myself extending past 60k. Since then, I’ve made the loose decision to write this final chapter as a ~novella. Here are a few reasons why:

1. This chapter is structurally very strange.

I unashamedly shift from present to past to present to past past, and so much more every 12 words. I mapped out the timeline on a sheet of paper, and there were over 20 shifts in scenes (the chapter is only about 4400 words at the moment). The fictive past is incredibly important to this chapter, more important than the present, and I thought it would make more sense to not break randomly for a chapter so I could upkeep the consistent inconsistency of the chapter.

2. The chapter is very abstract

This stems from the structural changes, but there are paragraphs in this chapter of the fictive present that are loosely based in reality. They’re more poems than they are factual paragraphs, and keeping them all contained in one place (so a mega chapter/ novella) would reduce the most confusion!

3. There’s not much left to cover

Like I said above, Feeding Habits is on its last leg, lol! I know exactly where the book needs to end up, which is very, very soon from where I’m currently at on the timeline. Swan Song should cover what 2-4 chapters would cover in terms of arcs.

Feeding Habits and I have a really weird relationship, tbh! When I realized a few weeks ago that it’d been over a year since I started the book, I realized I just needed to finish it. Not that I want to rush (because I’ve taken longer than a year to write a book in the past), but that in order to move onto another project, I’d like to put this one behind first. This book has been the hardest thing I’ve ever written, and has reminded me there’s always a time to let go. This sort of scrounges up a conversation about letting this entire series go, which is certainly something I’ve been contemplating doing soon(ish). If this spinoff series gets a third book, that may or may not be the last Fostered book for a very long time (or ever)! There are many complex reasons to move on, but the main one is that I have other projects I’d like to focus on. This is not a definitive decision, but something I’ve certainly been thinking about!

Here are a few excerpts I wrote recently:

(TW: death, gore)

Dying feels like being a trout dangled out of water. Clinging to a hook. Mouth open. Scales iridescent in a final death cry. It’s like blood spurting up the knuckles, drowning out the flesh. It’s that moment on the long fall down when the clouds cup the body. Easy drifting. The sound a skull makes when it cracks is really just the afterthought.

(TW: death, gore)

Kill shot. Death blow. Coup de grace. Right in the heart. He feels it. The blood swelling, slicking his palms. He can do it. Reach into the cavity. Feel for the ribs. Part each bone. Then cup the humming heart. Stay there. Right. It’s never been easier.

Look at this PURE moment of Lonan holding a baby I CANNOT:

The grocery store was a fifteen-minute walk away. With Olivia clinging to his shoulder, Lonan was acutely aware that she could feel his heartbeat. Open valve. Close. Repeat. Hers pulsed right above his, a miniature drumming. The sky had bruised purple, misted with clouds. The evening air nipped his cheeks, so he made sure Olivia was securely fastened between him and his jacket. With wide eyes, she absorbed the drowsy suburbia, all its family cars pulling into driveways, all its couples heading back home after a sunset walk. When Lonan passed a young boy walking two golden retrievers, Olivia giggled, and didn’t stop, even after he’d spent fifty dollars on groceries and nearly the rest on a red Corolla marked with a MUST GO NOW sign outside a convenience store.

Let’s move on!

Mandy and Cora

I said I wouldn’t talk too much about this project, but I just love it so much?? I wanted to share my SUPER early thoughts on drafting a novel, especially one that is SO different from what I’ve been writing recently. I talked about this before in THIS post, but the summary about this project is that it’s a YA contemporary novel! Can’t believe I’m writing YA again, it’s been so long, but I also think it’s going so well. Everything I’ve learned as a literary fiction writer has been a fantastic primer for transferring back to the genre. Admittedly, I have not written much, but I’m having a lot of fun diving back into a lighter project. This is the summary:

Cora and Mandy are identical twins who’ve always done everything together. But when Mandy decides to go to university out of province after graduation and Cora doesn’t, Cora takes this as an opportunity to “test run” life apart from her sister for the first time by spending the summer at her aunt’s house across the country.

I have come up with a few ~things since I last talked about this project, mostly how I’d like to structure it. As of now, I’d like the book to be structured super loosely. I’m really pulling on a lot of inspo from “We Are Okay” by Nina LaCour (which is SO good), particularly how “nothing happens-y” that book is. This project (which I still need a title for!!) will be structured in short chapters that cover something Cora does on her own for the first time (without Mandy). For example, a few ideas are “Flight”, “Lunch”, and “Groceries”. “Flight” is the first “chapter” (they’re really kind of vignettes) where Cora flies to her aunt’s house. I still can’t determine if this book will take place in Canada. On one hand, I feel like there will be a wider audience if it takes place in the US (is that just an assumption??? maybe?? someone let me know!), but also: don’t really care too much about an audience at the moment! It could also take place in Canada (So Ontario and British Columbia). But if it does take place in the US, I think it may take place in NYC and San Francisco. The problem is: I really don’t like researching lol, and while I’ve been to NYC many times, I will definitely write it wrong! Does this really matter on a first draft?? absolutely not lol, but of course I am already overthinking!

But back to structure: I am looking forward to seeing what this looser structure will do. This is a story that is solely around one half of a set of twins learning to be her own person (and ultimately that she doesn’t have to completely forget her sister in order to do that), and as a twin who KNOWS this feeling, I think this structure of her doing things for the first time is SUPER relatable.

I was worried it might sound silly/worrying to others who are not twins that Cora hadn’t done things like “lunch” or “groceries” on her own, but I feel this so much as an identical twin myself! Not that she hasn’t done anything at all by herself, but as a twin, when you do something without your twin for the first few times, at least in my experience, you notice. If any twins are reading this--weigh in!

This story is the most personal thing I’ve ever written. It definitely is an OwnVoices book! Usually, I avoid details that are remotely similar to me because they make me uncomfortable haha, but with this book, it’s all me, lol! The characters are all Guyanese, which is SO fun because I’ve been planning what they eat (my fellow Caribbean peeps know: the FOOD!), which is so fun (yes they have pumpkin and shrimp, yes they have roti, yes they have pera, yes they have mithai). Every time I’ve gone to dabble at this book, or even think about it, I get incredibly emotional for this reason? I don’t exactly know why. I think this is a story I just so want to tell, with the culture I love SO much that I definitely struggled to love as a child. This is reclamation bitchessss!

Not going to lie tho: the prospect of writing ~a book~ is kind of freaky! I’m going to make the minimum word count for this book pretty short (50k) and see where it goes from there. I think I will focus on this project this summer! Originally I was going to write a literary novel this summer, but I think this one’s calling my name!

Here’s a pretty rough excerpt:

Try. I remind myself that’s what I’m doing after the flight attendant fills me a disposable cup of Coca Cola and all I can think of is Mandy and I shoving Mentos into a bottle of the stuff when we were twelve. Just me, wedged in the middle seat between an exchange student heading out for summer break and a middle-aged woman sipping a cocktail, thinking of Mandy and I bursting whole oranges in a blender when we were bored one Winter break as the plane dips through a wave of turbulence. Mandy and I dying our hair neon green with highlighters (didn’t work—our hair is too dark) as the plane lands on the tarmac. Mandy and I arguing so loud last month, we both lost our voices as I lug my carry-on out of the overhead compartment and shuffle off the plane and through the airport, searching for Aunt Vel.

Short Fiction

I’ve written so much short fiction this year! I have a goal to write a short story a month (they can range in length, as long as 1 is “complete”), so my short story brain has seriously been soaking it all up lately. Let’s chat my month to month breakdown so far:

January:

I wrote four stories in January! The first is a flash fiction piece called “Shark Swimming” that follows a young woman who attends a shark swimming class after breaking up with her girlfriend. I wrote this story for a “test” workshop for my fiction class, and it was based off the prompt “think about something you’re afraid to do and make the character do that thing”. I’m not particularly afraid of sharks, but had been wanting to use the title “Shark Swimming” for AGES (literally since 2018).

This story is one of my favourites. It’s only about 900 words, but I think there’s something profound in how mundanely specific it is. The entire story doesn’t even see the narrator swim with sharks once; it actually takes place fully in the sanctuary’s lobby. But I really love this narrator. This is the first story I’ve written in second person in a while, though I felt really connected to the unnamed narrator. She struggles with accepting that she truly is a “boring” person, and there’s something about the final image that really gets me!

I’ve been submitting this around, though it’s been rejected a handful of times. Hoping I can secure it at a magazine one day because I really love it!

The second story is “Joanne, I’ll Pray for You” which is actually a rewrite of one of my very first short stories (the first story I did not write for a class haha), “NYC in Your Apartment”. I LOVE this rewrite a lot, and also learned the original is not a very good short story! Revising this story taught me just how much I’ve learned in the 2 years I’ve been writing short fiction. Seeing the 2019 version versus the 2021 version side by side is fascinating because I essentially “gutted’ the 2019 version of its beginning and end until all that was left was the middle of the story (aka the actual story). AKA: this is the only story I’ve ever written with a hopeful ending and I cut out all the happy bits lol I am SO sorry (that arc is more for a novel or novella). That’s how this went from a 5k word story to an 1800 word story (my Submittable thanks me for this lol). A lot of details and scenes I included were more pertinent to a 3 act structure/novel, which of course short stories don’t often have because of their brevity. I love rambling about writing theory, and seeing that actually pay off is so fascinating!

(TW: trauma)

Like the original, this story follows Joanne, a woman in her early twenties, who spontaneously breaks up with her boyfriend. She claims the poltergeist haunting her drove her to this decision. The original draft focused a lot more on the traumatic events Joanne survives, but this draft really loosens them up. It focuses less so on the events themselves, and more on how Joanne’s life is affected. I found the details of these events were less important, and even sort of contradicted Joanne’s insistence she is being haunted. Instead, the poltergeist really takes more precedence in the new draft as a force Joanne doesn’t understand. That ambiguity, I think, is what the story truly needed.

I also centralized Joanne’s relationship with her boyfriend, Julian, here. Now don’t get me wrong, I really didn’t add anything to this draft. It was a matter of trimming the fat around it to leave the lean “meat” in the centre. But by removing that fat, I was able to emphasize what was most important here, and that was her relationship. Julian always played a really big role in the original draft, but I feel like his role as both a friend and partner to Joanne is much more emphasized since this draft literally is only two scenes now. Because there is less, there is more room for Joanne to reflect, which I’m happy about!

A final change I made was the setting and therefore the title. The original, which was “NYC in Your Apartment,” I couldn’t keep because I shifted the setting to Toronto (this is how I originally saw it, but in 2019 I just?? couldn’t?? write?? canlit??), and “Toronto in Your Apartment” sounded sort of gross LOL. The new title comes from a line in the story which I think is more relevant to the themes!

The next short story I wrote in January was “How to Spell Alpaca.” This one is super fun because I wrote it SO fast (in about 15 minutes or so). THIS is the writing update if you’re interested in learning more. I talked extensively about this one in that update, but some developments are that I dove into an edit a few weeks ago to really understand the core of the story. I’m still not quite there (this is just an intuitive feeling; I know not everything has “clicked), but I am really intrigued by the two mothers in the story, the narrator, and her newfound acquaintance, Violet. Both really struggle to understand their place as mothers (the narrator even declares she isn’t a mother anymore). The narrator, who is in her 50s, sees herself in Violet, who is much younger (~20s), and so she views Violet’s relationship with her daughter in a cautionary, yet mournful way, like she can see it will end up like her own relationship with her daughter, despite wanting the opposite. This is a really subtle story. I feel like if you blink, you’ll miss the message. But I think it’s compelling for that reason. It’s really a portrait of parenting and how to grapple with mistakes you may make that inevitably affect your children. Wow just unlocked the theme writing this lol.

The final story I wrote in January is “The Party,” which may be in my top 3 faves I’ve ever written. This story follows Aida, a recent divorcee in her ~40s. The day her divorce turns official, she moves into a new house and receives a party invitation addressed to the previous homeowner, yet RSVP’s anyway. At this party, she’s hoping to find some sense of noticeability, having struggled with being nondescript her whole life. Things seem quite normal at the party, until it gets bizarre.

I LOVE this story, y’all. Like “How to Spell Alpaca” it really delves into motherhood. Aida, our narrator, is incredibly hurt after her divorce. She now lives farther from her children she struggled to feel connected to in the first place, and doesn’t really know how to reignite her life. This party is a means to do that. This is the first story I’ve written that contains a “twist” which is strange because I really prefer stories that give us as much info as possible upfront, but yes, this one sort of twists.

February

I wrote one story in February, and that was “Protect the Young.” This title is SO changing when I think of a new one because it’s thematically incorrect, haha, but this story follows a woman in her late 40s whose daughter, Lindy, announces she is married the same day all their backyard chickens turn up dead. The discovery of dead chickens prompts our narrator to recall her ex-husband’s murder and the role her daughter may have played in his death.

I love this story so much! I think this would make a great closing for my short story collection. It just has that vibe! I wrote this for my second fiction workshop. I thought I had to hand in the story a week earlier than I had to, so I panicked and wrote this in one sitting! Little did I know, I did not need to do that lol but I’m very happy because this story is so fun. We get to learn more about Arnold (her ex), his relationship with Lindy, and how that translates to Lindy’s relationship with her new husband, Malcolm. I LOVE true crime (I listen to about 3-4 hours of case coverage daily), and this is my first “true crime” story. Because of that, I’m very sus of a few details that probably wouldn’t slide in actual investigatory work, so I’ll also be working on that in a revision. My professor also gave me a great suggestion that may alter the story’s structure a bit, though I look forward to toggling with it in the future.

March

In March, I was really on a Criminal Minds kick lol. I’ve been watching this show since I was seven (oops), and dove into a rewatch since it hit Disney+! This story, “Where to Run When the Lamb Roars,” is very clearly Rachel watching 5 episodes of CM a day. Oops! We follow 14-year-old Astrid as she and her older half brother kidnap a young girl to sacrifice for their yearly ritual.

I knew a few things going into this story, but the main thing was that I did NOT want to show any details of a potential murder (if one even occurs). I really wanted to keep all of those elements off the page because this story is not about those events, but about Astrid’s relationship with her brother. They are a murderous duo, with Astrid actually being the dominant partner. I wanted to explore that. I knew her brother, Fox, was more of a submissive partner in their team, even when he used to do this same thing with his father when he was much younger (chilling!), and so it was a task to explore how this young girl’s desire for violence works. The end actually comes right before the story starts, one could say, but I like it for this reason. It really made me contemplate the story by the time I finished it, and helped me examine what it really was about versus what it appeared to be about.

April

(TW: sexual content, non explicit)

I was so busy this month! Who knows if I’ll write a story last minute, but I did write one story this month called “Five Times Fast.” I wrote this during a “writing sprint” that was being hosted at a flash fiction workshop I recently took with one of my favourite writers ever, K-Ming Chang. I learned so much from this class, and am so happy I came out of it with a draft! This story is just over 300 words, so the shortest flash I’ve ever written, but I’m really happy with it. It was based off the prompt “describe the last time you or your character was naked.” In this case, the narrator has a “friends with benefits” relationship with Ricky who works at a laundromat. This story highlights a moment in this relationship (and also Ricky’s goofy personality lol). I really like it! Hopefully I’ll submit it to some magazines soon.

My short story collection

Very briefly I wanted to touch on my short story collection which I’ve titled “She is Also Dead.” I’ve been meaning to make a blog post on this, so look out for that in the coming months, but this collection is already at around 35k words (about 14 stories so far). The collection also surprisingly has a solid amount of flash fiction which is kind of fun! There’s definitely a range here, which is what I personally love in short story collections.

I feel very professional now that I have a ~collection chart. This is her:

(image description: A chart with the title “She is Also Dead.” It is broken into four columns: Story, Status, Word Count, and Published. Entry 1 - Story: Slaughter the Animal. Status: Revisions, Word Count, 3982, Published: N/A. Entry 2 - Story: Joanne, I’ll Pray for You, Status: Polished, Word Count: 1809, Published: N/A. Entry 3 - Story: Primary Organs, Status: Published, Word Count: 2342, Published: The Malahat Review. Entry 4 - Story: Faberge, Status, Polished, Word Count: 619, Published: N/A. Entry 5 - Story: The Wolf-Antelope Will Not Come for Us, Status, Polished, Word Count: 1556, Published: filling Station (forthcoming). Entry 6 - Story: How to Spell Alpaca, Status: revisions, Word Count: 1327, Published: N/A. Entry 7 - Story: Blink Twice for Final Judgement, Status: Polished, Word Count: 6572, Published: N/A. Entry 8 - Story: The Species is Dead, Status: Published, Word Count: 1208, Published: Minola Review. Entry 9 - Story: Shark Swimming, Status: Polished, Word Count: 907, Published: N/A. Entry 10 - Story: The Party, Status, Polished, Word Count 2339, Published: N/A. Entry 11 - Story: Fig, Status: Polished, Word Counter: 947, Published: N/A. Entry 12 - Story: Protect the Young, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4128, Published: N/A. Entry 13 - Story: Where to Run When the Lamb Roars, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 2174, Published: N/A. Entry 14 - Story: Phantom Limbs, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4844, Published: N/A.) /end image description.

This order is DEFINITELY not permanent (at this point whenever I write a story, I just fit it randomly into this chart lol), and some of the info is outdated (for example, Slaughter the Animal is now polished!!! thank god!!!). But just an idea of what I’m thinking of including.

This is the summary so far:

In SHE IS ALSO DEAD, characters are pushed to act on their gravest impulses. A small town turns murderous when their local invasive species, the Janices, begin dying. A child struggles to understand her mother’s suicide. A college dropout who insists she’s being haunted by a poltergeist unexpectedly breaks up with her boyfriend. A mother acknowledges her daughter’s murderous tendencies after her backyard chickens mysteriously die. A young girl caters the funeral of a girl rumored to be killed by a wolf-antelope. A newly-divorced mother RSVP’s to a bizarre party she was not invited to, and a murderous brother and sister upkeep their yearly tradition of abducting a young girl. These stories follow characters who navigate death, violent desires, womanhood, and loss, both self-imposed and otherwise.

This is also so subject to change as I may pull and add stories to the collection!

I think I’m going to leave this update here for now! I’ve written TONS of poetry too, but I honestly ~hate my poetry right now lol, so! Hope you enjoyed this chill rambly update. Hope writing has going well for you all! All the best!

--Rachel

#writing #writeblr #writerblr #amwriting #writingupdates

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

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Chapter Three

Hiiii, all you cool cats and kittens 😂😂😂😂. Okay but seriously, imma just word vomit all the things I need to cover in this author’s note — that I can remember.

I’ve been writing this chapter for like a week, I’m super nervous about it, I’m really sorry if this angst is upsetting you, I am gonna do my best to make it all right in the end, the angst is gonna continue though for a bit longer, yes this fic is only 10 chapters, yes I still want your comments even if you’re upset, my eye is still having trouble so I can’t look at a computer screen for too long because it physically hurts so I’m editing on my phone and there is a high chance I’ll re-edit these chapters after my eye isn’t all Heltor Skeltor anymore.

Okay I think that’s everything, I very much am gratefully for all the feedback I’ve received and I hope you all continue to read this fic.

Peeta stayed for hours after that. He smiled and laughed and, for a while, made me forget all about my unbearable loneliness, how empty this home feels, how uncomfortable I am with the prospect of my mother moving on with her life, how much I really miss my sister right now.

How I miss my sister more than anything.

He still makes me feel safe, I realized, as we sat on the couch and ate our third helping of the chocolate cake he’d baked for me. He knows how much I love chocolate from all the meals we shared on the train.

“Actually, from the time you decided to just eat the chocolate fountain by itself,” he had corrected. Off my quizzical look, he added, “At Snow mansion? We were there for a party?”

“Our engagement party?” I amended, teasing him a little.

My attempt at levity works as I watch his mouth contort into smirk in response. “Sorry, I guess I forgot what party it was.”

“They did drag us to a lot of them,” I agreed, not foreseeing the jab he was about to throw.

“And you pigged out at every one of them.”

I pretended to be offended for a moment but his proud laughter made me lose the facade far sooner than I should have. The joyful glint to his gaze, the way his body language was relaxed and open, the way he seemed to remember small details of our shared past now, I just couldn’t hold even a false grudge against him. I just couldn’t help giggling alongside him.

But he had to leave around dinner time, having an appointment to get the construction for the new rebuilt bakery approved and in motion.

As soon as he departs, and I’m left once again inside a void, hallow house that only emphasizes the greatest loss of my life—the one I’ll probably never go a single day without feeling the ache of—I decide I need to leave too. I decide as soon as I glance around the empty place that it’d be in my best interest to get out as well, to prolong the inevitable despair the deserted home brings come nightfall.

My first thought is to drop off the liquor I picked up for Haymitch a few days ago at the train station. He was passed out drunk and I was already there and it seemed at the time like a good bargaining chip when he was feeling particularly caustic towards me. Which lately had been often.

Now it just poses a good excuse to go talk to the sour man, to perhaps pick his brain about Bailey Robyn. To perhaps see what he knows that I don’t about the mysterious girl who blew into both our lives.

And only evidently disturbed one of them.

He has clearly has gotten to know her better than I have, and he’s quite transparently taken quite a liking to her. If I want to know this girl, or even begin to understand what Peeta sees in her, it only makes sense to get Haymitch to share some details in exchange for his favorite liquor.

After all, our entire relationship has always been a series of bargains, one way or another.

Throughout mine and Peeta’s entire time together—which amounted to the whole afternoon—he had never once mentioned Bailey. He hadn’t said she was waiting for him or what she thought about the cake or if she even knew he would be at my house today.

And for some reason that led me to assume she was busy in town somewhere. That she was working on the salon she mentioned wanting to start up, that she was out doing things herself, that she wasn’t even concerned with Peeta celebrating my birthday today.

That she wasn’t sitting on Haymitch’s counter, talking to him about that very subject.

“It just doesn’t make me feel great, you know?” Her clear and high voice rings out from the window right as I’m gearing up to barge my way inside the pig sty. “I want to go with him, in case he has an episode or something, and he tells me no. Like flat out, full stop, no.”

I slip in through the unlocked front door, quiet as a mouse, eavesdropping like I know I shouldn’t. Like I know is a complete violation of privacy, both for Bailey and for Haymitch. And maybe even Peeta, since he’s the one they’re conferring about.

“He’s stubborn,” Haymitch agrees, sounding more sober than I’ve heard him in months. Sounding more sober than I’ve seen since we were in Thirteen. “Try mentoring him in the games.”

Bailey scoffs at that. “No. You couldn’t pay me enough.”

They share a laugh and I feel my hands tighten around the bottle, as an extremely uncomfortable sensation settles into the pit of my stomach.

They sound like old friends. They sound happy and pleased to be hanging out and conversing. And if I’m being honest, it gives me one more reason to instinctively dislike Bailey, despite the fact that I’m trying hard not to.

Because in the short time she’s been in Twelve, she’s slid into my place in both Peeta and Haymitch’s lives with complete and utter ease. Even beyond taking my place, she’s outrankedme in both men’s lives and entirely knocked me out of the saddle.

That’s what disturbs me above all else. Because—even though I’d never admit it about Haymitch—they were mine. They were my family. They were all I had. They were my haven from the darkness surrounding my entire life. The three of us were a team once.

And now it feels like she didn’t join the group, she kicked me out of it entirely. Haymitch has never had me sit on the counter of his kitchen—not that I really wanted to, the place is absolutely filthy—and talk about my problems. He’s always mocked my feelings and troubles, when they didn’t pertain to the war or rebellion.

I don’t get what is so special about this girl that the two most important people in my life are willing to just let her in. Are just willing to let her take me out without a second thought.

“I mean, is it odd that I wanted to be included?” She inquires genuinely and to my surprise, once again, my old mentor gives her a pretty thoughtful answer. For Haymitch Abernathy, at least.

“They’re both a little weird. War messes with people. Especially kids,” he murmurs and then grunts uncomfortably. “Don’t get worked up over nothing. Just let whatever happened go and try to be happy.”

For some reason, even without hearing my name mention specifically, I’m fully convinced that they’re conversing about me as well as Peeta. About our afternoon together, void from Bailey’s presence. Without hearing my own name, I still know in my bones I walked in on a talk about me.

Bailey wanted to come today and Peeta told her no? Peeta told her an unequivocal no? Because he wanted to spend time with just me?

That satisfies me beyond measure. That makes me even happier than the carefully handcrafted birthday cake did.

Suddenly, for the first time since she’s arrived in Twelve, I don’t feel like Peeta put me on the back burner to make her more comfortable. I don’t feel like I’m being slided so she can be accommodated to her liking. And that’s a better present to me than anything else I could have asked for.

“But I’m his girlfriend,” she states quietly, before sighing deeply and setting down a glass that she must have been drinking from. Risk-taker, she is. “And I just feel like every day all he thinks about is Katniss. He’s either worried about her or afraid of her.”

Now that catches me completely off-guard. Peeta’s afraid of me? Is he telling Bailey something I don’t know? What did I do that he’s so afraid of?

Please, I internally beg to no one. Please tell me he doesn’t still think of me as a mutt. Please tell me he doesn’t feel the same way about as he did in Thirteen.

No, I venomously refute. That wouldn’t make sense. If he still thought of me that way—the way Snow tried to brainwash him into—he would surely not be baking me a cake and spending an afternoon alone with me.

At least, I don’t think so.

But I’m always wrong nowadays and I long ago learned to stop trusting my instincts because they don’t any good for me in the end anyway and I just end up more jumbled and confused and stressed than I started out.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down just as Haymitch mutters, “That description isn’t a far cry from the kid I met two years ago on the tribute train.”

Evidently, I breathed out too loudly almost immediately, Haymitch barks out, “Is that you, girl?”

Realizing I’m caught, I rip off the bandaid and step out of the corner of the entryway, where I was hiding. “Sorry, I just got here,” I quickly explain. And then, despite my atrocious acting ability, I throw out for good measure, “I didn’t hear anything you guys said, I just didn’t want to interrupt.”

Neither of them believe me. In fact, they both appear pretty disgusted with me now. But when I pass Haymitch the bottle of liquor, his features shift and I feel him lightly pat me on the head as he passes me to grab a bottle opener.

“Haymitch,” Bailey murmurs unceremoniously, as she hops off the counter with a grace I have no dream of ever possessing. “I’m going to head on home.”

Her eyes meet mine for a split second before flirting away, and all I see there is irritation.

I hope she doesn’t try again to make nice in a day or so. Quite frankly, there’s a reason I never made many friends. Social interactions aren’t my thing and they just wear me out unnecessarily. Especially girls, who only want to gossip about other people or share clothes or irrelevant life tips. I’d much rather be left alone in solitude than have to yo-yo with Bailey’s mood swings.

Haymitch has always empathized with this trait of mine. More than empathized. He embodied it to the fullest, in a way I never even have. That’s what makes it so startling to me that he’s found such a friend with Peeta’s new girlfriend. It’s downright shocking how pleasant he is towards her.

When he returns now, she’s already gone and he’s right back to his surly self.

“No one clears a room like you do, sweetheart.”

But I’m not interested in swiping back and forth with one another. “Why are you hanging out with Bailey Robyn?”

Haymitch rolls his eyes as he takes a seat at his still unwashed kitchen table.

I mean, if Bailey wanted to help clean in here, that’s where I would have suggested to start.

“The better question, Katniss, is why are youhanging out with Peeta alone? How do you think that makes his girlfriend feel?”

“He’s my friend,” I argue, infuriated by the implication that I have to go through a random stranger to be around Peeta now. Infuriated that it’s Haymitch making the implication nonetheless.

“But he isn’t!” The old man snaps back. “Peeta isn’t your friend, Katniss. You look at him like he hung the moon and you do it right in front of his new girl.”

“No, I don’t,” I retort sharply, because I definitely don’tand I repel the accusation.

“Anyone with eyes can see your stupid little crush,” he exclaims and it stings. The words sting for some reason and I feel the ache in my chest come back once again, because apparently I’m stepping over a line I didn’t even know was there and I’m once again the root of every problem and it’s all becoming too much.

Evidently, Haymitch just doesn’t care if he hurts me today. “Just back off of the boy. Let him be happy for once.”

I uncharacteristically spit an unkind name at Haymitch as I slam his door in my furious wake.

Through his still open kitchen window though, I hear him chuckle. “Well, that’s one I haven’t heard before, sweetheart.”

Read More On AO3 Where The Italics Actually Work

#everlark #thg #hunger games #everlark fic #my writing #dancing on my own 💔👸🏼✨#fic #fanfic #creative writing #idk what else to tag

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

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Light My Fire - CH07

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Flangst, feelings, teasing

WC: 2803

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

Dean returns from outside, sets the glasses down and pours the wine into it. He walks into the kitchen, takes out two bottles of water and sets them on the table. “What you wanna eat tonight?”

Y/N shrugs, she really doesn’t mind. She knows what he likes to eat and she likes the same thing too, “I don’t know, what do you wanna eat?”

There’s a small grin on his face and it turns wider, more cocky too, and he wriggles with his eyebrows.

Oh my god.

She just walked right into that one, didn’t she?

“Jesus, Dean, I didn’t mean me!” She mumbles, rolls her eyes and Dean has to laugh out loud.

“Well, that’s a shame because I love how you taste,” He winks, turning around to take out the delivery leaflets.

She’s glad that he doesn’t notice the red in her cheeks.

They have settled for Thai and they held a stupid competition on ordering the most spicy dishes and eat it. She won, but at what cost.

The bell rings right when they both are chugging milk over the sink with tears in their eyes. Dean was already standing up straight to go to the door but he didn’t need to, because they hear the key turning in the lock and then, Sam Winchester walks right in. His eyes widen when he sees them both huddled by the sink in the kitchen.

“Uh, Am I interrupting something?” Sam asks with raised eyebrows.

“Nah,” Dean winks, “Come in.”

Sam nods, looks at them both with a grin before he walks over to the couch. They follow him after drinking a mouthful of milk.

“What is it, Sammy?” Dean asks, sits next to Sam and she makes herself comfortable on the other side of Dean, pulls the blanket over herself to hide her bare legs and pussy.

“Just wanted to come by and give you a quick update,” Sam says. He looks from Dean to her and she can’t miss the grin on his face, “How’s it going with you guys?”

She shrugs and tries to keep a straight face, “Eh, he’s okay,”

“Hey!” Dean shouts out, “I’m more than okay, alright?”

Sam burst out laughing, “Yeah, well, I don’t have much time to listen to you two bickering, but I have a court date. It’s going to be in a month. So everything should be over by then.”

“Meaning?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Meaning that you need to live together for at least a month and afterwards you can go back to what you were. You stay married on paper for another four months after the court date and after we win, of course, and it’d be good if you can sometimes go to social events together. Just to keep up the facade.”

“Oh,” Dean says, “Yeah, that sounds good, doesn’t it, Y/N?”

He puts her right on the spot and she feels quite uncomfortable, “Yeah,” She answers. “Yeah, great.”

“Amara’s lawyer called me today, though. Said he believes that your marriage to Y/N is fake.” Sam pauses to snort out a laugh, “Well, I’ve seen the picture of the gala. Good job, both of you.” Sam eyes Dean and then her, before his gaze returns to Dean and Sam nods.

Dean shrugs but there’s a little smirk on his face, “We try.”

“Dean, you have to inform your employees that you two married in secret and kept in under wraps because you didn’t want to jeopardize your work relationship. Do they know this already? It’s important for when someone comes snooping.”

“I actually had a meeting with my staff today. Told them that we have been secretly dating for a while before we decided to take the next step.”

Her eyes widened. So they all know? She can be glad that she isn’t close to anyone else in the company other than Ruby. Otherwise there would have been questions that neither she or Dean would want to answer.

We decided to take the next step. She laughs to herself. How very business-like and not at all romantic. But that’s totally Dean. Because yeah, he sees it as another business deal and she knows that she should too.

“The lawyer also said that Amara would agree to annul the marriage if she can get 30% of your net worth.”

“SHE WHAT?!” Dean leans back on the couch, clasps his hands over his face and rubs at it. The sound of his palms rubbing over his scruff is loud in the room that just went silent after Dean’s outrage.

“Yeah,” Sam says, “But we have the upper hand in this. You guys are already married so Dean marrying again in Vegas was illegal. The court will grant us an annulment if we play our cards right. That’s why it’s crucial for us that you keep up your fake marriage and try to convince the court that what you have is real. I did my best with the documents, there’s no worry about that.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Dean scoffs, and Sam frowns at his brother.

She can see that Dean’s very much tired of it all.

“Anyway, I need to get going. Oh, and I have a meeting with Amara in two days. You wanna join?”

“Over my dead fucking body,” Dean hisses.

They settle on the couch after Sam leaves, and he hands her the remote. She zaps through the channels, settles on a movie that has already started. Cocktail. It’s easy viewing and that’s probably just the right thing since she can’t really concentrate anyway with Dean next to her. Not when she knows how he looks underneath his clothes. Not when he’s wearing his shirt and her pussy is throbbing. He made her come twice earlier already, she should get a fucking grip.

“Aren’t you worried?” She has to ask. She can’t not just ignore it.

He shrugs, “I’m not happy about it but I’m not worried. Not really, no.” It comes out too easy, as if he is truly not worried in the slightest, and Dean sees the frown on her face. She’s sure that he sees the pout on her lips as well. He reaches out, thumbs over her bottom lip, “Don’t worry about it, alright? I got this.”

She nods. She really wants to believe him. She does. She’s doing this because she wants to help him — double pay aside — because Dean’s a good boss. A little short tempered but he has the company's best interest in mind. He can also read people very well and offers people opportunities to prove themselves if he sees that someone has potential. Like Donatello? He started in the company as a fucking janitor and now he’s leading a sales team. Y/N helps Dean because she wants everyone to keep their jobs and be happy, and another thing is that she really can’t stand Amara so it would be a double win if they can get rid of that bitch, too.

They watch the movie in silence for a while. It’s when she starts to yawn that Dean suggests she lays her head in his lap, and honestly, it looks inviting and the smile on his face is big, she couldn’t find it in her heart to say no to him.

He strokes her head, when she lays down and they continue to watch but she just can’t really concentrate with Dean playing with her hair.

“You like that movie?” Dean asks, his fingertips trailing along her jawline, which sends goosebumps throughout her body.

“No, but I like the scenery.” It’s the truth, the movie is not really her style but they’re in Jamaica and it looks picturesque with the clear blue water and white sand.

“Have you ever been there?”

She has to snort out a laugh at that, “No, I couldn’t afford it in a million years. But maybe one day I will be able to. Once Jack is earning his own money I can save some for myself.”

It’s silent for a long while until Dean suddenly speaks, “Maybe I’ll have a job for him once he’s done.”

She frowns and sits up, pulls her knees to her chest. Dean’s body is still close to hers, she can feel the warmth radiating from him, “He won’t take it.”

“And why’s that?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Because Jack would know that you’ll just do it out of pity and he’s too proud to take the offer.”

“Well, I can make him sweat for it, if it helps,” Dean has a boyish grin on his face. Something she’s never really seen on him. It makes him look younger. Makes him look relaxed. It suits him. She could get used to seeing it more often.

Y/N has no doubt that Dean is able to do that. He’s been doing that for longer than she knows him, making people sweat, that is. But it’s not for her to decide. Jack is his own person. Even though sometimes, she still thinks that he’s a little nugget and needs to be protected but he is very capable of making his own decisions. The only thing she always tells him to do though, is to own the decisions he’s making. He has to be able to live with every consequence of his decision making and so does she. Like, right now, when she feels Dean’s hand come up to pull her into him and that is because she agreed to be his wife. It’s a decision she made and she’ll deal with everything that comes with it.

“How are you feeling?” He changes the subject, probably feels that he’s invading her privacy when they talk about Jack.

“I feel good,” She smiles and leans her head on his shoulder, tilts her head up to look at him, “It’s certainly not what I was expecting,”

Dean cocks an eyebrow, “Better or worse?”

She has to grin, “Better,”

“Good, I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay,”

She knows that he does. He has a weird obsession with making sure that she’s okay. It has been like that since she started to work for him. Dean was grumpy and loud, yelled around a lot but at the end of the day he’d always come by and asked her if she was doing okay. The behaviour scared her at first but she somehow puts it down to some kind of OCD. He is obviously someone who likes to have control over every aspect of his life.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks and gets nervous all of a sudden.

“Anything,” Dean answers without a second thought. He didn’t even pretend to take a couple of seconds to think.

“I was going to ask you if I could have my job back?” She squints her eyes, a little afraid of his reaction and she doesn’t even look up at him, instead she keeps her head on his shoulder and looks straight into the TV.

Dean doesn’t say anything for a long time and she’s really afraid that he’ll say no. She listens to his breathing, feels his chest moving, hears his heart beating.

“You know,” Dean sighs, “I was kind of hoping that you would want to come back.”

“You were?” She sits straight and looks at him to see that he’s grinning. So she was so worried for nothing.

“Yeah,” He smiles, “You didn’t talk to Ruby, did you?”

“No, I was too wrapped up with— you know, you a-and— Jack.”

Dean chuckles, and takes his arms from around her to rub at his scruff. He leans forward, takes a sip of water before bracing his elbows on his knees, and she follows, sits close enough to lay her face on his back. She can hear his heartbeat even better. “Yeah, uh, I was so close on firing her today but then I thought that I would be left with no assistant at all. So, yeah, you can come back.”

“Dean!” She punches his arm and he chuckles.

Y/N can hear the vibrations of his voice. Hears it deep inside of him, and she can feel every back muscle moving. It’s so sexy, she can’t lie about it.

“In my defense—” He looks back and starts to talk, but then he stops. She rests his chin on his back. He changes the subject abruptly, probably knowing that she’ll hear it from her friend anyway, “Tomorrow you’re coming back to work as my PA because you’re my wife.”

“Your fake wife,” She adds. She needs that reminder herself.

“My fake wife,” Dean agrees, his lips are pressed into a thin line, his dimples showing. She calls them his dimples of discontent. He does have dimples of content as well, but they are rarely seen. People in the office say that it’s a myth.

“So, your PA?” She raises an eyebrow.

“It’s the best solution. You’re my wife, I can’t let you handle other things.”

She grins, “So you just let me handle your thing.”

There’s a blush in his cheek and Dean clears his throat before his face settles on a frown.

Y/N pokes her head under his armpit with a smile. He basically holds her in a headlock, and Dean opens his arm a little more so she can fit in better. She kisses his cheek, whispers a “Thank you,”

“You wanna call Ruby?” He asks and looks down at her, his double chin showing. He looks damn cute.

“Nah, I’m gonna surprise her. But I’m going to bed.”

“It’s only 10pm?”

Dean’s right. It’s not that late yet. Well, he’s probably more used to staying up late because she has a lot of meetings outside of work as well, but she isn’t used to it and honestly, her body feels tired. She can’t wait to hit that comfy mattress.

“I have to show up on time tomorrow, my boss will be angry if I’m late. Maybe he’ll even fire me.” She makes a disgusted face.

He smirks at that, “He will fire you for being late? That sounds a little extreme.”

“Oh,” Y/N scoffs, “I’m telling you, he’s the worst. One little misstep can get you fired. I told him to change his attitude a little, and I hope that he takes my advice.”

“Has he ever treated you badly?” There’s something in Dean’s eyes. Something she can pin point as remorse. But maybe she just imagines it.

She smiles, “No, actually, he never did lash out at me. He was probably close a couple of times, though. But I’ve seen him take out his anger on others that I know try their very hardest, and that’s not fair either.”

Dean lets out a snort, “You know what? Your boss sounds like a dick.”

“He is, but I like him.” She grins, sees Dean smiling back, “Okay, I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, and thank you again.” She kisses his cheek once more, and she feels him leaning into her kiss.

When she gets up, Dean grabs at her wrist, making her fall back on him and he manhandles her into straddling him. It takes her by surprise as well as the kiss that follows. His big palms are cradling her face, pulling her down, his tongue teases at her bottom lip, “I’ll try to change, okay? Thanks for telling me.”

“Okay,” She says, nodding and he grins, pulls her in once more. He kisses her soft and gently, tongue sliding smooth alongside hers, and she lets herself fall, weaves her arms around his neck.

Y/N’s awfully wet down there already and she can’t help but grind onto his growing bulge. His hands are on her ass cheeks, kneads them, as he pushes and pulls to help her grind on him.

Before it can get too heated, he breaks the kiss and leaves his forehead on hers, “You should go to bed, I’m not sure I can restrain myself from fucking you if you don’t go now and I know that you’re sore. So, I’d rather not hurt you.”

She can only nod, “Yeah,” She pecks his lips once more, gets up and sees that she wetted his pants, “I’m sorry about that.”

Dean stares at what she’s pointing at and lets out a soft chuckle.

Y/N starts to walk to her room and is almost around the corner when she hears him speak.

“‘M sorry if I was too rough. I should have controlled myself better.”

He’s talking about their quickie, she knows.

Grinning, she turns to him, smiles bright, “Don’t worry, I like it rough,” With a wink, she walks to her room and smirks to herself because she saw Dean’s eyes widen at her comment.

CH08

#light my fire #dean winchester #ceo!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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amanda-glassen · 3 years

Text

The Love of Her Life

Some Serena and baby Liv fluff for day 1 of @dailysvu Olivia Benson Week: The moment you fell in love with Olivia Benson. Prequel to The Wonder Years.

February 2009

From the moment she found out she was pregnant, Serena began reading pregnancy websites and parenting magazines, but the most sound parenting advice came from her own mother who told her that no book, magazine, or website could ever fully prepare her for what it’d be like when she actually held her baby for the first time. After Olivia had been dried off, she was placed tummy-down on Serena’s chest so the skin-to-skin contact could help Serena bond with Olivia during her first moments on this earth. She was wearing a little pink knit hat, but underneath it Serena could see Olivia’s soft dark hair. She’s a brunette like me. Feeling her baby against her skin as she held her for the first time was even more overwhelming than she thought it would be and Serena couldn’t help crying.

“You did good, baby,” her mom said as she kissed Serena’s temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Serena responded. “Mom, how is it possible to love someone so much? I thought I couldn’t love her more than I already did when she was in my womb, but that love doesn’t even compare to what I feel for her right now.”

The Bensons had a beach house in Malibu along Pacific Coast Highway and the sound of the waves at night had always been therapeutic for Serena. When her thoughts and the memories got to be too much for her after she had been raped, she’d sit outside on her balcony and listen to the waves while writing in her pregnancy journal. She filled page after page about what she was feeling and what her hopes were for Olivia. On more than one occasion, she wrote about how－if she closed her eyes really tight and just listened to her surroundings－she could be twelve-years-old again and riding boogie boards with her brother and sister or even six-years-old and making sandcastles with them. Some of her best memories were at the beach, but the one she knew she’d never be able to top was that first night she brought Olivia home.

Serena stood on the balcony in her Columbia University hoodie and a pair of pajama pants. Although February in Malibu was nowhere near as cold as February in New York, she made sure to dress Olivia in her warmest pajamas and wrap her in a blanket.

“Sorry this isn’t skin-to-skin contact, but Mommy can’t be topless on the balcony,” she said as she held Olivia to her chest. “How about to make up for it, I let you drool all you want on my Columbia hoodie? We’ll be going back there in August. Columbia is Mommy’s school and she has to finish up her senior year.” Why am I talking about myself in the third person? I can’t believe I’ve become one of those moms already. “Everyone thinks it's going to be hard for me to be a full time student at an Ivy League school and be a mom living on my own, but I think we'll be okay. Your grandma is going to stay there from time to time and we have a great support system. It’s a lot colder in New York but it’s beautiful in autumn when the leaves change colors. In a couple of years, I’m going to take you trick-or-treating. I can’t wait. There’s a lot of things I can’t wait to do with you, but at the same time I want you to stay this small and cuddly.”

“The semester before I got pregnant with you, I was in a Shakespearean seminar and I got your name from Twelfth Night. My professor was really strict though. He started teaching in the early ‘80s and won’t even let us bring our laptops to class. We’re only allowed handwritten notes. After a three hour class, my right hand was so numb and I thought it was going to fall off. I want to be an English lit professor someday, but I promise I won’t be like him. I’ll actually acknowledge that it’s the 21st century. I’m sorry for rambling. I know it’s important to talk, read, and sing to your baby and trust me when I say you don’t want me singing so you’re stuck with me talking and reading to you. I have so many stories to tell you. There’s this cookie place that your aunt Lexie and uncle Kyle and I love. When you can start eating solids, you and I will share a cookie there. They’re open until 3 a.m. Can you believe it? I bet 3 a.m. is nothing for you, though. You’re a little party animal. You like to sleep all day and stay up all night, have a drink at midnight and 2 a.m.”

“Can you hear the waves?” Serena asked her daughter. “The sound is relaxing, isn’t it? My doctor told me that the most soothing sound for a baby when he or she is in the womb is their mother’s heartbeat. Now that you’re not in the womb anymore, you’re going to hear all types of sounds, some more soothing than others. I hope the ocean is one of them. Can you believe all the way across this big body of water, there’s other countries and people just like us? Maybe there’s a mommy and a baby listening to the waves on the baby’s first day at home just like we are.”

Although Olivia couldn’t understand a word she was saying, she felt as if she still had to get this next bit of information off of her chest. “I’m new to this, Olivia. Just nine months ago, I was a sorority girl who went to parties every Friday and Saturday night and then something really bad happened to me and my life took a turn I didn’t expect it to. Being a mom wasn’t what I had planned, but here you are and I never imagined loving someone so much. I’m probably going to get things wrong four out of five times, but I’m still learning and I promise you I’ll get better. I’m going to love you every single moment of every single day, Olivia, and nothing you do will ever make me stop loving you.”

Serena heard the sound of her sliding glass door opening. “Sweetheart, come inside,” her mom told her. “It’s getting cold out there for my grandbaby. Don’t you think you should put her in her crib now?”

“I was hoping I could sleep with her,” Serena responded as she gently rocked Olivia. “I’m not ready to let go.”

“My big baby,” Mrs. Benson shook her head. “I love how excited you are to spend time with Olivia, but it’s not safe for a newborn to sleep in a bed. She needs to be in her crib. Trust me, you won’t go long without holding her. Newborns don’t sleep through the night. She’ll wake up in around two hours and want you to feed her. Do you remember everything the lactation consultant told you? Or do you need me to help you? If you need me, just call, okay?”

It was supposed to be one of the most natural things a mother can do, but Serena still worried about Olivia not drinking enough of her milk, or too much, or not latching on properly. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you if I need help with anything.”

“You’re not ready to let go of her, are you?”

“I’ll never be ready to let go of her.”

“Come in,” Mrs. Benson insisted. “I promised I’d never tell another mom how to raise her child, but you’re my baby and she’s my grandbaby, so I’ll let you hold her longer but only if you come inside.”

There were three generations of Benson women on Serena’s bed, Serena and her mom sitting up, leaning against the headboard, and baby Olivia resting her head on her mommy’s chest. “Mom, what do you think she’ll be like when she gets older?”

Mrs. Benson put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s see. She’s being raised by you so she’ll be stubborn for sure, but she’ll also be kind, intelligent, and brave just like you.”

Ten minutes of holding Olivia turned into half an hour and eventually an hour until Mrs. Benson broke down and decided to make a baby nest so Serena could safely cuddle her daughter in bed. Serena didn't get more than a couple of hours of sleep that night, partly because Olivia kept waking her up, but mostly because she just wanted to admire her. There were so many mixed emotions for Serena. Her baby may have been conceived in an act of violence, but Olivia was so innocent. “You have nothing to do with him,” she said as she placed delicate kisses on her baby’s forehead. “I know I have a long road ahead of me and my healing can’t be dependent on you. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but just know that you’ve already helped me in so many ways and I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

#benson week #alex and liv: the wonder years #olivia benson #law and order svu #serena benson

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brittanyismessingwithme · 3 years

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I am terrified.

I did not expect anything more than a couple hangouts while I was there, and then most likely never talking again. Just be two people who follow each other on IG, like how it usually goes. But I ended up seeing you 6 out of the 8 days I was there, and stayed with you until the last possible second before I HAD to go pack before my flight. With the amount of insecurities, fear, anxiety, doubt, and just overall trauma I have from my past, I NEVER would’ve thought I’d feel as comfortable as I am now. With you. And especially not so soon. Or for anyone who’s literally an ocean away. I’ve known you for a month now, so how the hell do I feel this deeply for you? Tell me how from day 1 I felt like you were going to be someone important to me. How by day 2, I wholeheartedly believed I could trust you. Tell me how someone who has been cheated on and/or left for someone else by all except one person from their past, could believe in long-distance working. How someone who was a complete stranger a month ago has been given all my trust, attention, and support. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I’d even consider long-distance. Because I thought I’d always have this constant anxiety of not knowing who they’re talking to, hanging out with, and quite honestly, messing around with since I’m not there. Because it’d be so easy to do. But I don’t have that anxiety with you. Yes, I get jealous, and I do have the thought of you with other people in my head, but I know it’s the reality of the situation. We’re not together. You are able to do whatever you want, with whoever you want. And I have no right to share how I wish you wouldn’t talk to anyone else or go out on dates or any of that. I think the reason it’s all been really getting to me the past few days and causing me to be really emotional, it because I realized just how deeply I feel for you. How I’m almost starstruck with who you are. And how I could possibly have a chance with you. The way you interact with my friends, the way you want to “show me off” to your friends. The way you genuinely want to hear about my day no matter how average and uneventful it is. From the big things to especially the small things, you make me feel wanted. When you look at me, sometimes I think you feel the same way I do.

I have never felt so safe or so calm as I did when I was with you. Even though I’m not physically near you, I’m still so comforted when we facetime. As cliche as it is, I really have never felt this way about anyone. I want someone to explain to me how it’s possible for me to feel this way. I am not perfect. Far from it. And I am not the person I want to be. But I am always working on myself and growing into someone I think I can be truly proud of, someday. I really really don’t understand it, but I want to do life with you.

I know I’m going to keep falling for you each day that passes and I will fall in love with you.... That terrifies me to the core because I know you may very well decide one day that this is not what you want.. Whether it’s because of someone else or just because you decide it’s just not possible for you, you could just end it.....

There is a tiny part of me that thinks I need to just break my own heart now and cut this off now. My heart will still be shattered, but I just think about how bad it’s going to be if you leave later and I just can’t mentally prepare myself for the amount of pain that will be..... So the hope I have for you stay, keeps me from running.

I genuinely think this could be a good thing. We could be good. For each other, and with each other. But I guess time will tell.

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petrichoravellichor · 3 years

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Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Chapter 3 (of 5) (Ch. 1, Ch. 2., Chs. 4 & 5)

"When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental. But...there is one story about Cain that I might have...forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me...no, it wasn't truly until you left that cheese burger uneaten...that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true. Listen to me, Dean Winchester: what you're feeling right now—it's not death. It's life—a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."

—Crowley to Dean, 09x23 "Do You Believe in Miracles?"

**********

The following evening, there’s a knock on his door. “Crowley? Hey, you in there?”

Crowley looks up from his book. He hasn’t spoken to Dean since that day in the war room, when they’d all returned from the Empty. From a tactical standpoint, it’s been very easy: all Crowley’s had to do is keep largely to his room during the day and save visits to any common spaces for the late night hours. This is the first time in a good long while Dean’s made it a point to seek him out alone, and it’s that more than anything that makes Crowley decide he actually wants to hear what Dean has to say.

Still, no point in making it easy on the bastard. “That depends,” Crowley calls back, aiming for nonchalance. “What have you brought me?”

“Ha ha. Open up, asshole,” says Dean, but the epithet contains about as much malice as the bitch he occasionally lobs at Sam. “We, uh. We need to talk.”

Crowley arches a brow; is it just him, or does Dean sound nervous? He sets his book aside and shifts to sit on the edge of his bed. “It’s open.”

Dean enters, and Crowley sees that he was right: Dean does indeed look nervous, perhaps even guilty. He nods sheepishly in Crowley’s direction as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey,” Dean says, smiling slightly, and the gesture stirs a painful kind of longing in Crowley’s gut. Looking at Dean has always felt to Crowley like reaching for something without knowing what it is he’s grasping at or why, the way a weed arches without thinking towards the sun. It’s maddening in a way Crowley doesn’t have words for, because he knows, in the way he supposes a weed does, that the light isn’t there for his benefit; experience has shown him that much.

And yet, for as much hurt and anger Crowley’s felt because of Dean, he’s also realized that he just...can’t find it in himself to hate Dean, not in any way that lasts. They’ve been through too much together, and maybe none of it mattered to Dean, but it matters to Crowley. He wishes it didn’t, but it does; it always has. And he can no more deny that than he can the sun.

But he can’t very well say all that to Dean, so he pushes his thoughts aside and schools his features into a neutral expression. “Hello, Dean,” he says evenly, rising to stand with his hands in his pockets. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dean reaches up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “You, uh. You settling in okay?”

Crowley snorts. “Surely you can do better than that. Go on, let’s have it.” He takes a step towards Dean and flashes a smirk. “I promise I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well...That’s kinda what I came to talk to you about.” He gestures at the desk next to the bed. “Mind if I have a seat?”

Crowley shrugs. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Dean walks over to the desk and turns to lean against it, not quite sitting but also not quite standing. Crowley stands next to the bed, waiting.

Eventually, Dean clears his throat. “So, uh. Cas said the two of you talked—”

He expects his words to get a rise out of Dean, to throw him off kilter so their conversation is easier to manage.

“Oh for the love of—Is that what this is about?” Crowley grumbles; just how much of their conversation had Castiel felt the need to share? “Allow me to save you some time, then. You and your long-suffering Angel of Thursday have my blessings, for what they’re worth. Slow clap, mazel tov, etcetera, etcetera. If you like, I could even pull a few strings, see if I can get you Hell as a venue for the wedding.” He smiles darkly, adding, “Although based on recent events, your influence there probably exceeds my own.”

Instead, Dean just raises a brow and says mildly, “So you and Rowena still aren’t talkin’, huh?”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, just figured I’d let you finish first.”

Still aren’t—?! “Really?” Crowley sputters angrily. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Ever the gentleman,” Crowley sneers.

“I try.”

“You really think I didn’t miss you when you were gone?”

“Well, try to get to the bloody point!”

And whatever barb Crowley was about to hurl dies on his tongue. He opens his mouth, then closes it, shifting awkwardly under Dean’s level stare. Eventually Dean sighs; he pushes up off the desk and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress next to him. Crowley sits down without a word.

“Listen,” Dean says, once Crowley is settled, “I don’t know how much Sam told you, but you weren’t the only one we lost that night. Cas died, Lucifer made off with our mom, Kelly didn’t survive the birth, and Jack bolted after I took a shot at him. Which...yeah, in hindsight, I’m not proud of, but that’s where I was at the time.” Dean looks down at his hands. “It wasn’t good. If Sam hadn’t stepped up and been a dad, things with Jack woulda turned out different, and not in a good way. If it’d been up to me, if I’d known how...I probably woulda killed the kid.”

Dean snorts softly. “Yeah, maybe, only you were too busy offing yourself to keep Lucifer locked over in Apocalypse World. Man, you don’t even know how huge that was, do you?” Dean looks up at him then, earnest. “You think everything would be the way it is now if Lucifer had gotten his hands on the kid before we’d figured things out?”

Crowley swallows. He tries to think what he would have done if his and Dean’s places had been reversed, if Dean had died that day instead of him, and comes to only one possible conclusion. “To be perfectly honest,” he says, quietly, “I’d have done the same.”

Crowley can only stare back, stunned. He’d sacrificed himself to thwart Lucifer; that his death had also made it possible for Jack to grow up in the Winchesters’ charge, free of Lucifer’s poisonous early influence, and thereby helped shape who Jack was, who God was...It’s honestly never occurred to him until now.

A protective sort of rage boils up in Crowley on Dean’s behalf. Sam hadn’t gone into all the gory details during his explanation, but Crowley knows enough. “Michael.”

“Anyway,” Dean continues, when Crowley says nothing, “then Jack brought Cas back, which we didn’t even know was possible. Thought maybe it was just a fluke, but we didn’t have time to really think about it because we had to go get our mom back, and then there was all the crap with Lucifer, so we had to deal with that, and then...” Dean trails off, his jaw tight.

Dean inhales steadily, nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that. And then...after…” He sighs. “Jack lost his soul and killed Mom, and I damn near killed him, and then everything with Chuck...Man, it was just non-stop. Then we finally beat Chuck, and with Jack all souped up, we had a way into the Empty, and hell yeah, we were gonna get Cas out, but the plan was always to look for you, too. Oh come on, don’t look at me like that,” Dean says, frowning at Crowley’s shell-shocked expression. “You’re a royal pain in the ass, and there’ve been plenty of times I wanted to stab you in the face, but you think that means I don’t give a damn what happens to you? Like it or not, man, you’re family, and we don’t leave family behind, not when we can help it.”

Crowley studies Dean carefully, looking for the lie...and not finding it. Then, that means...Is he really...?

“Family,” murmurs Crowley, experimentally. “You know, I’ve never had much luck with that word.”

Dean gives him a sad sort of smile. “Yeah, me neither. Not the one I was born to, anyway, 'cept for Sam. The one me and him made, though…” His smile turns genuine. “That one’s pretty damn awesome.”

They sit in silence, neither speaking for several moments; then—

Crowley clears his throat. “Can I ask you something, Dean?”

“Shoot.”

“That first day, after you brought me back, Sam said I should talk to Mother, said she has...regrets.”

Dean regards him thoughtfully. “You thinkin’ about giving her another chance?”

“I honestly don't know what I’m thinking,” Crowley admits. “There’s a lot of bad blood there: hers, mine, both of ours. When I saw her here, in this room, she said she’d missed me, that she loved me, and...”

Crowley feels his throat tighten, and he doesn’t know how to say the rest: that for all he hates himself for it, for all the times it’s blown up in his face, for all the horrible things Rowena has done to him—

“You don’t know if you should believe her,” Dean finishes quietly, “but you want to.”

Crowley sighs. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” Dean says firmly. “It’s not stupid to want to be loved, not by family: that’s kinda how it’s supposed to be. The stupid part is that it doesn’t always go that way, and then we gotta deal with the fallout.” Dean hesitates, then adds, “And...and sometimes that means we think we don’t deserve love when we do, and other times, it’s people sayin’ they deserve our love when they don’t.”

Crowley mulls that over. “Does she deserve it, do you think?”

“From you?” Dean shakes his head. “Man, that ain’t for me to say.”

Bollocks, thinks Crowley, barely managing to suppress a groan of frustration; if only there were a way to know which decision was the right one ahead of time...“How did you decide?" he asks after a moment. "With your father, I mean.”

Dean looks taken aback, and Crowley thinks perhaps he shouldn’t have asked; but before he can change the topic, Dean sucks in a breath and says, “Look, my father was an obsessed bastard. He left me and Sam alone for weeks on end, and when he was around, he was more of a drill sergeant than a dad. Some of the shit he pulled...” One of Dean’s hands closes into a fist. “It’s not the kind of stuff you just...forgive.”

Then Dean lets out a slow breath, and the fist relaxes. “Thing is, though, a lot of the crap he put us through, raisin’ us the way he did...He was tryin’ to protect what was left of his family, and...and I get that, you know? I’ve done a lot of really messed up shit for the same reason, for family. Doesn’t mean I forgive him, it’s just...complicated.” Dean sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Like, really freaking complicated. Honestly, I’m still kinda trying to figure it out. But, yeah...all that to say, I don’t know if Rowena deserves your love or whatever else you wanna give her. She’s done a lot for me and Sam, helped us save our mom and Jack, and then her whole swan dive into Hell and all that, but when it comes to the two of you...That’s something you gotta decide for yourself.”

Crowley studies his hands. His left palm still bears thin scars from that day in the war room, when Sam had told him Rowena had changed and Crowley had gripped his fist tightly enough to draw blood. He still isn’t sure he believes his mother is actually capable of being anything other than what he's always known her as. Maybe she isn't, and if that’s the case, then she doesn’t deserve his love. Crowley can live with that; he has his entire life. If Sam was right, though, if his mother has changed...that’s something Crowley needs to see to believe.

And there it is, Crowley realizes: he needs to see her.

“I think,” he says, after a moment, “that I’ll meet with her and hear what she has to say, and if I don’t like it, I’ll tell her to bugger off, this time for good.”

Dean gives a hum of approval. “Sounds fair to me." He claps Crowley on the knee and stands. "Okay, then, I’m gonna go hit the hay. Lemme know if me or Sam can help with the Rowena thing, okay? You don’t gotta deal with her on your own.”

“I will,” Crowley says; then, as Dean’s about to leave, “and Dean?”

Dean looks back, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

And Crowley once again feels something stirring in his gut, but this time, it isn’t longing, but gratitude, gratitude that he has Dean in his life and gratitude that, at the end of the day, everything they’ve been through together, the good and the bad, it matters to Dean, too, and that's important. It's fundamental.

“Thank you,” Crowley says, and means it. “For everything.”

For a moment, Dean regards him in silence; then he smiles. “Yeah. You too.”

He slips out of the room and leaves Crowley alone with his thoughts, which are...actually rather optimistic. For the first time in a long time, Crowley feels alive. It’s a new kind of life, one with family, one where he matters, and Crowley doesn’t know for certain what it’s going to bring, but he knows he wants to see it, experience it, eyes wide open.

#crowley #spn crowley #fergus macleod #crowley macleod #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #spn fic #spn fix-it fic #a new kind of life #my writing #i was going to wait till tomorrow to post this but i've realized that i lack self-control when it comes to multi-chapter fics #meh

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witharsenicsauce · 3 years

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Two Hunters, Both Alike in Sympathy (SFTD/Chosen Stories Crossover)

(I know this is a couple days late, but happy belated anniversary to @grace-kohai and her wonderful story! Inspired by a year of happenings over at the SFTD Discord, thank you for giving my Gur-Rai an even bigger family!)

Content Warning: This story has mentions of relationship/parental abuse

Mordenna heard her footsteps before he saw her, and as the cloak melted away to reveal Kon-Mai Mordenna, he knew she had wanted him to find her.

He stepped away from his workbench and turned, smiling warmly until he saw her face: lined with worry. “Something troubling you, sister of mine?”

Kon-Mai nodded and stepped closer. “Mordenna…” She hesitated saying his name “-I’m sorry, it feels strange to use that to refer to someone else.”

“It’s a good name, I’m glad to share it with you.” He chuckled. “But I don’t think you’re here to discuss that.”

“No, I am here to discuss my brother...our brother. Gur-Rai.”

“Oh yeah?” Mordenna raised a brow, intrigued. “What about him?”

“You two have been spending a lot of time together.” She said, leaning on the bench. “Do you think he trusts you, Mordenna?”

Mordenna blinked. “I hope I haven’t given him any reason not to.” He said. Truthfully, he had been spending more time with Gur-Rai than the others, but that was only because the younger Hunter always seemed to seek him out, especially in the workshop. And Mordenna had to admit, Gur-Rai was a nice workshop buddy, and he wasn’t going to say no to a (particularly skilled) extra set of hands. True, Gur-Rai was also a bit more…intense than Mordenna was, but in him was a kindness that the Elders seemed not to have been able to stamp out. Mordenna found solace in that.

“I assume you have heard tell of his newest lover.” She curled her lip on the last word. “The Rookie, Emil.”

Mordenna thought for a moment. “...I haven’t been upstairs in a minute.”

“He was the one throwing a tantrum in the halls two days ago, because nobody could fix his Gewehr 98/40.”

“Oh. Oh.” Mordenna hissed. “That guy. Served him right for bringing a bolt-action to a plasma fight.” He then thought for a moment. “...Gur-Rai’s dating him?”

“Gur-Rai managed to fix the gun.” Kon-Mai elaborated. “And I suppose Emil whispered some sweet nothings into my brother’s ear that made him fall head over heels, like he does.”

“Is that why you look upset?” Mordenna asked.

“It’s why I am here to ask for help.” Kon-Mai replied. “I believe Emil is a liability to those of us on this ship, but more importantly I fear very much that he will lash out at my brother. That he’ll do something to hurt him.”

“So what do you need from me?” Mordenna leaned forward, both hands on the bench. “Because I’m not murdering someone over a tantrum. Trust me if I did, my blood trail would be thicker and stop much sooner.”

“I do not need him dead. Yet.” Kon-Mai hissed. “If it did come to that, I would not be calling on you. What I need help with is convincing my brother to let this rat of a man go before this relationship spirals into a sinkhole.”

Mordenna nodded. “And…why won’t he listen to you? He’s my brother too, but you’ve been around him longer than me.”

“That is why. I have developed a reputation for worrying about my brothers…” She brushed a strand of white hair behind her tiny ear. “...Perhaps to an excessive degree, I admit. If I confront him with this myself, I fear he will assume I’m being paranoid and disregard me, or worse: dig his heels in further.”

“And you actually think this guy is bad news?” Mordenna asked. “I’m not doubting your judgement, but if I’m stepping in, I need more proof than just ‘your sister thinks the guy is a prick.’”

“I would not trust him on a mission with any of our fellows.” Kon-Mai said. “He is volatile, he is argumentative and throws insults around like rice at a wedding. I would go so far as to say it seems like he is intentionally causing sabotage.”

Mordenna bit his lip. “Hearty claims, Kon-Mai.”

“I know they are. I have been staking him out myself but only recently, in case he truly does pose a threat. But in the meantime…” She clasped her hands. “I just want to be assured my brother is safe.”

“Well how about this, I’ll check up on Gur-Rai. If it seems like he needs help, I have ways of making sure nobody messes with him.” He shuffled forward. “But I can’t promise anything.”

“Just…as long as you try.” Kon-Mai bowed to him. “Thank you, Mordenna. I owe you so much.”

“You just owe me one thing.” He opened his arms. “Come on. Being siblings means you gotta pay your dues.”

Kon-Mai rolled her eyes and embraced him, giving him a squeeze almost as strong as Jax would.

Mordenna was originally going to find Gur-Rai when he was done with his project, but he didn’t need to. Behind him, the door slid open, and as he turned around, he saw Gur-Rai shamble inside, that stupid German rifle in his arms and eyes cast to the floor.

Mordenna’s heart dropped and his brows went up. “Hey, little brother.” He said, trying to sound casual so as not to scare him, but Gur-Rai still startled.

“Hey.” He gave Mordenna a quick, unsure smile and then took up one of the benches, quickly getting to work on the gun. Mordenna peeked over and caught a glimpse of a huge chunk of the wood splintered off, and the metal underneath was bent and peeling away.

“You still messing with that thing?” Mordenna murmured. “I’d just let it go. That gun is older than me.”

“Aw. You’re not old.” Gur-Rai muttered, his voice lacking it’s usual chirp.

“I’m older than you.” Mordenna put down his own project and slowly moved around the bench. “I just hit my fifties and am still going strong.”

Gur-Rai stopped and looked up. “...No way. You’re lying.”

“It’s true. I was in my thirties when the Elders nabbed me.”

“I think even I was younger than that.” Gur-Rai looked interested. “You must’ve been a great shot, for an old timer~”

“I would’ve taught you everything I knew.” Mordenna patted his hood, mindful not to pull it down at all. “I know your Volk is being an asshole and that’s his loss. I’d be proud of you, Gur-Rai. Even after all that, you haven’t lost that spark in your eye yet.”

Gur-Rai fell silent and stared down at the gun on the table. “...Really?”

“Yeah. You’re not as jaded as me, that’s for sure.” Mordenna chuckled. “Take my advice, now that the Elders aren’t holding your leash, hang onto that spark. It’s a wonderful thing you got there, and it makes people really happy to see.”

“What do you mean it makes them happy?” Gur-Rai grabbed some pliers and began pulling off the damaged wood. “And be straight with me, Mords. I don’t want jokes right now, and I really don’t want pity.”

Mordenna paused. “...Hey.” He put his hand closer to Gur-Rai’s arm, almost dangerously so. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want anyone else telling me how good a person I am when clearly, that is not the case.” With a crack, the remaining wood broke into two pieces and flew across the table. “At best? I’m annoying and childish, and at worst I’m a psychopath who uses humor to forget the horrible things I’ve done, and the latter is probably the most accurate.” He tossed the pliers aside. “Nobody is getting joy from this ugly mug, Mords. Only the Elders do, when they hear me scream.”

Mordenna paused, knowing he’d just hit a huge nerve and would have to proceed slowly. Luckily though, it also seemed like he unearthed something. “Do you really think of yourself that way?” He said softly. “Or is that what someone told you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does.” Mordenna put his hand on Gur-Rai’s shoulder. “Put down the tools for a minute. We gotta talk.”

“Talk? About what?” Gur-Rai turned to face Mordenna. “I already know where babies come from.”

“Well that’s good but that’s not what I mean.” Mordenna leaned against the bench beside him. “Does all this have to do with that broken gun at all?”

Gur-Rai sighed. “...It was my fault.”

“Doubt it. But continue.”

“Emil was trying to fix a chip in the wood, I couldn’t really tell what he was doing, and I reached around to kiss him and...I guess I knocked the gun, and something came loose…” He gestured to the table.

“And your giving him a kiss managed to bend the metal?” Mordenna sounded skeptical.

“No, just chip the wood. The rest--the huge gash on the side and the metal--he did himself when he threw it at me.”

“He what.” Mordenna suddenly, deeply understood Kon-Mai’s worry. In fact, he was beginning to see red himself. “Over a scratch on a gun that should have been decommissioned before he was born?”

“I guess it’s a super important gun.” Gur-Rai muttered. “More important than me. And…yeah. I believe the exact words were ‘I could get any Muton with a dick twice your size and less of an attitude to fuck me, it’d feel exactly the same and be a lot easier.’”

Mordenna paused. “And then you offered to...fix his gun?”

“I mean, I broke it.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “And I just…” He pulled away from Mordenna, moving toward the middle of the room and stopping. “I’m gonna bring it to him later with some wine or something, he’ll take it all back…he’s been a sweetheart before, he made me feel…” From the crack in his voice, Mordenna could tell he was holding back tears. “Special. Chosen. And I went and fucked it up just like I did before.”

Mordenna knew of Gur-Rai’s other relationships (and the details, thanks in part to Gur-Rai’s prolific storytelling), but something about the way he said that felt different. It rang in Mordenna’s ears, loud and familiar.

“It’s not your fault that Camazotz hurt you.” Was all he said.

That seemed to do it. Gur-Rai curled in on himself like a shriveled up leaf, and began to shake violently as he sobbed into his hands. Mordenna came up behind him and put a gentle hand on his back, which then turned into him taking Gur-Rai by the shoulders and pulling him into a loose hug. Gur-Rai froze for a moment, still shaking, and then wrapped his arms around Mordenna so tight it almost made the latter cough. He buried his face in Mordenna’s shoulder and let out a weak, quiet sob.

“You didn’t fuck anything up.” He assured him, speaking to him as he would a comforting child. “Camazotz…maybe he thought he loved you, but what he did isn’t love. And it’s not how you treat your children. You didn’t deserve to be hurt by him, and you didn’t deserve a gun chucked in your face today.”

Gur-Rai sounded like he was trying to speak, but it came out as sobbing once again. Mordenna guided him over to a sitting bench and the two collapsed onto it, With Gur-Rai retreating into himself again until Mordenna unwrapped him from that knot and brought him back into his arms.

“I know how you feel.” He said. “God, I spent so long trying to get Odin to be proud of me. And sometimes he’d shell out little bits of praise, bits of affection that kept me hanging on just that much longer, but that’s not enough. It’s not enough to occasionally say you love someone until they upset you, because people who really love you will love you even when they’re angry.”

Gur-Rai flinched at that. “God, please, no. I can’t…I don’t want anyone else to hate me.”

“Gur-Rai, this ship is full of people who love you.” Mordenna insisted. “Let's start with your siblings. Your sister loves you so, so much, you know that?”

“I make her worry.”

“She worries herself, which is her own problem. But she wants you to be safe and happy. Your brother too. And us.” Mordenna rubbed his back. “You’ve been spending so much time down here with me…I feel like we’ve been family forever.”

Gur-Rai hesitated…then he looked up and chuckled. “I mean, you are old enough to be my dad.”

Mordenna snorted, then smirked. “Okay, fine. As your new dad, I’m vetoing all of Camazotz’s previous rulings.”

“Wait.” Gur-Rai blinked. “...Mords. Mords you…” He shook his head. “You probably shouldn't…you know me, I’m a trainwreck on very long legs! I’ll give you a heart attack before you hit 55!”

“Do you realize who you’re talking to?” Mordenna chuckled. “If Odin had had hair, I like to think I’d have turned him grey years ago. I’m not intimidated by the concept of guiding a slightly younger, frankly more childlike version of myself.” His face softened. “If you want it.”

“I…” Gur-Rai swallowed. “I just never had a dad…like a real dad…what do I even do?”

“First off, you sit here and let me hold you while you cry.” Mordenna pulled Gur-Rai back into a hug. “And, when I tell you I love you…you believe me.”

“...Okay.” Gur-Rai squeezed Mordenna back, burying his face in the warmth of his father’s shoulder. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Good job. I…” Mordenna swallowed. “I love you, kiddo. Just as you are.”

As Gur-Rai settled in, and Mordenna gently rocked him back and forth, he began to plan out in his mind exactly what he would do to Emil when he was done down here. It had been a hot minute since Eliza had let him interrogate someone.

And maybe he’d bring Kon-Mai along too.

(I know SFTD will be reaching it’s final act sooner rather than later, let me just say again what an honor it has been to read it, to fully appreciate the Chosen and to get inspiration for my own story too! Hoping for more wonderful writings in the future!)

#xcom #xcom 2 #xcom hunter #chosen hunter #mordenna is a good dad #gur-rai is just a boy

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

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Breakfast and Bus Rides

Criminal Minds/Supernatural crossover ft. Harry Styles

Word Count: ~3030

Warnings: Egregious amounts of fluff, one gratuitous kitten, and a couple stoned rockstars. Lots of discussion of coming out and some other LGBT-adjacent issues.

A/N: A wild Plot appears! I was having some feels about coming out/honesty (hm wonder why, is a mystery) and foisted those feelings on JJ and Dean.

Thanks to @stunudo for a pre-read, endless encouragement, and the kitten scene idea.

This is part of the Rockstar AU. It picks up right where Wake-Up Calls and Watermelon leaves off.

Dean exchanges a glance with Sam, and they both hang back as the others start to gather in the kitchenette. Penelope keeps shooting wide-eyed, starstruck looks at Harry, and it’s making Dean nervous.

“You okay with this?” Dean asks quietly. “You think she’ll keep her mouth shut?”

Sam shrugs. “I can talk to her.”

“And Schroeder? I mean, love the kid to death, but holy hell does he babble.”

“Spencer’s known since the first night of tour.”

“How?”

Sam chuckles. “Kinda a funny story… tell you later. I honestly think he might’ve forgotten, though.”

“What about the rest of ‘em?” Dean asks. “I mean, I like ‘em well enough, but…”

“I want to tell them,” Sam says, without hesitating. “I’m just gonna bite the bullet and invite them all over for breakfast.”

Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You sure?”

“I trust them.”

“Okay. Just don’t want you to get hurt, Sammy.”

“What a shock,” Sam deadpans. “Dean’s pulling the protective big brother card? Alert the press.”

Dean purses his lips and gives Sam a light punch on the arm. “Bitch.”

“Don’t let Emily hear you saying that,” Sam chuckles. “Shoulda heard the lecture I got the other day about the way misogyny is perpetuated through language. Honestly, though. What do you really think is going to happen? It’s not like they’ve outed you and Cas, they’ve all been awesome about it.”

“This is different, though,” Dean says, with a grimace. “I mean, like it or not, it’d be news. The gossip rags would pay serious fuckin’ money for a picture of the two of you.”

“It’s not like we’re gonna walk around, like, fused at the mouth,” Sam laughs. “No PDA required. But… I want him to meet some of my friends. Y’know?”

“Yeah.”

“Stop worrying so much, Dean.” Sam’s expression is soft and fond, and he claps Dean on the shoulder before heading for the coffee maker and Harry.

Harry wraps himself around Sam like a giant squid, if a giant squid wore Gucci, and Dean’s chest feels tight with anxiety. The two of them are looking at each other with these stupid googly-eyed dimpled smiles. It doesn’t even count as PDA, not really, except that Sam is so godawful at hiding his feelings that he might as well be wearing a neon sign.

Then Harry starts feeding him a strawberry, and that definitely counts as PDA, if not public indecency. Gross.

If someone did take a picture of them like this, with their sleepy-eyed smiles and interlaced fingers, it’d be worth thousands of dollars. That’s a hell of an incentive. Dean’s had people fuck him over for much less.

Dean’s learned his lesson over the years. The only people you can really trust are your family.

Cas emerges from their room, blinking blearily around at everyone before coming over to Dean and leaning in for a kiss.

“Morning breath, fuck,” Dean grumbles, making a face, but he grabs Cas and pulls him in anyway.

A cheer goes up around them, and Dean sees Jack coming out of his room, clothed now, but still blushing red and shamefaced.

“What’d I miss?” Cas says, scowling, and Dean grins gleefully before launching into the story.

* * *

“I guess I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Spencer says, contemplating his hand of cards. “Aside from a very vocal minority, there’s widespread support for LGBT rights, statistically, and the music industry is more progressive than most. If you look at David Bowie, for example —”

“I pass the turn,” Charlie interrupts, cutting him off before he can launch into full-on textbook mode. “It’s not really about that, though.”

Charlie forgets about the conversation for a minute as he attacks her planeswalker. She used to own her local Friday Night Magic tournaments, and she’s more than a little pissed that this skinny fucker in a sweater vest has won three of their last four games. Spencer is sneaky. Charlie can respect that, but it’s infuriating.

“Why, then?”

“Hmm? Oh, that. It’s more to do with… privacy, I guess. That’s a hell of a lot of public attention for Sam. He doesn’t want people to sing Happy Birthday to him, you know?”

“Doesn’t everybody hate being sung to?” Spencer asks pensively.

“Well, yeah. But Harry’s the sort of famous where people get totally invasive and weird about his personal life. Like, starting rumors, tabloid shit, and it extends to anyone he gets involved with.”

“Really?” Spencer downs the last of his coffee. It’s his third cup, but he hasn’t touched the plate of pancakes that’s been going cold on the table.

“Yeah. I don’t know if Sam realizes the full level of crazy at work, but Dean and I looked online, one night, after Harry brought it up. The shit people have said about his exes… about his friends, even. They’re vicious about it. Analyzing every facial expression in every picture, making up stories…”

Spencer’s forehead creases in a frown. “I play Grasp of Darkness on your Primordial Hydra and swing with all my zombies.”

“Motherfucker,” Charlie mutters. “Rematch?”

Spencer’s staring intently down at the table, lost in thought, and he doesn’t seem to hear her for a second. She chucks one of her D-20s at his face and he starts when it bounces off his forehead.

“Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?”

He hesitates before mumbling, “I had a stalker.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she — Cat. I told her I didn’t want to sleep with her, and she didn’t like that very much.” He pauses, brow furrowed. “She learned everything about me, and I mean everything. Tried to manipulate me, tried to manipulate my friends…”

“Yikes. What happened?”

“She went to jail for a little while. She showed up when she got out, one night in Boston—” Spencer brightens. “—but Derek tackled her and threw her into the Charles River.”

“For real?”

Spencer nods and smiles in a way that makes Charlie think she’s not getting the full story. “It was a weird night.”

“So she hasn’t showed up since then?”

“No. But… I just felt like I couldn’t hide anything, like every part of me, every shitty thing I’d ever done, was under a microscope. It was awful. I’m all for being honest, you know? That’s great, in theory, but... everybody deserves the right to hide if they want to. You should be the one to decide what parts of yourself you want to share.”

Charlie thinks about the friend who outed her in high school, and how naked she felt.

“Agreed.”

* * *

Dean sits down next to Derek at the kitchen bar as he’s sealing the third joint.

“Rolling for the road?” he asks, around a mouthful of bacon. “Nicely done.”

“The key is the crutch,” Derek tells him. “Ditalini.”

“No shit? Huh.”

Derek keeps working, watching Dean, who’s watching Sam.

“Nothing to worry about here,” Derek points out gently. “You know that, right?”

Dean lets out a little self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry. Fuck. Habit, y’know? He’s my brother.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Derek says ruefully, glancing over at Spencer.

“Every person he tells is another person that could hurt him,” Dean says fiercely. “I fuckin’ hate that.”

“Worrying doesn’t help, though.”

Dean scowls at that, thinking for a moment as he chews, before saying, “I just wish there was a way I could help.”

“A while ago, there was this guy who went after Emily,” Derek says slowly, twisting the next joint closed. “And he didn’t hurt her bad, or anything. Spencer and JJ jumped in, and Spencer took the worst of it, because… Spencer.”

“Can’t see him being handy in a fight.”

“Try telling him that when he’s pissed. Point is, though… nobody got hurt, but I was pretty shaken up about it. Beat myself up for not being there to protect them, until my girl Penelope talked some sense into me. She said, ‘It’s not your job to keep them safe all the time. The most important thing is to make sure they know they’re safe with you.’ I think about that a lot.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to just… ignore the risk?”

“No,” Derek says patiently. “But it’s his risk to take. You being afraid isn’t going to make the world any less scary, but knowing that you’re there, that you’re proud of him, that you’ve got his back no matter what? That helps.”

Dean mulls that over. There’s a mulish set to his jaw that reminds Derek of Emily; it’s the face she makes when she knows he’s right and doesn’t want to admit it. He tries to hide his smile as he finishes rolling the last joint and offers it to Dean.

“Thanks,” Dean says gruffly.

“Any time.”

* * *

When JJ opens the bus door, she’s greeted by a cloud of weed smoke. She can see Hotch stretched out on the couch with a half-smoked joint in one hand and a battered copy of Slaughterhouse-Five in the other. He’s reading out loud, and for a moment JJ can’t figure out who he’s reading to; then she notices Pearl curled up on his chest, rubbing her tiny fuzzy head against his cheek.

It’s so goddamn cute JJ doesn’t know what to do with herself. She settles for whipping out her phone and taking a quick picture.

As she walks up the bus steps, Hotch holds out the lit joint without pausing, and she takes it happily.

JJ’s exhaling smoke, finally feeling the weird tension under her skin start to evaporate, when Rossi opens the door.

“All set,” Rossi says, giving the driver a thumbs-up.

“Did you triple-check your head count?” Hotch asks, deadpan.

“Sure did.”

“Everybody present and accounted for?” JJ adds innocently. “Spencer?”

“He’s showing off his new toy on the Winchesters’ bus.”

“Penelope?”

“Playing Sega with Charlie.”

“And Morgan?”

“Already in the back, taking a nap.”

“Emily?” Hotch presses.

“She’s in the batcave to — oh. I see.” Rossi glowers. “Very funny.”

“Are you sure you didn’t forget Spencer again?” JJ asks, giggling hoarsely around another lungful of smoke.

“It was one time,” Rossi protests, flipping them off. “You try keeping track of the kid. He’s like a squirrel. A squirrel on LSD.”

“Pretty sure it was mushrooms that day,” JJ points out.

Rossi sits down and asks thoughtfully, “Did anybody see that coming?”

“Sam? Honestly, no,” Hotch answers, frowning. “Not that it’s any of our business, but…”

“Me neither,” JJ admits.

She’s still rattled by the whole thing, for reasons she can’t quite put her finger on. It’s not about Sam, or whatever bullshit constructs of masculinity that would make people assume he’s straight just because he has muscles and dresses like a lumberjack. She’s not shocked by the label, or whatever.

“There’s someone I want you guys to meet,” Sam had told them. He tucked his hair behind his ears as he said it; it’s his tell, his nervous tic, and JJ has the poker winnings to prove it. She had wondered, for a moment, what would make him smile like that in spite of his obvious anxiety.

Dean had been glaring from the other side of the room, gauging their reactions, his arms folded and his fear written all over his face in the guise of a scowl, like a feral dog who’d been backed into a corner. JJ could understand the fear. Sam, though… Sam just looked relieved.

Hotch and Rossi are staring at her, she realizes abruptly.

“Hm?”

“I said, anything you want to do in L.A.? Plenty of time for sightseeing.”

JJ shrugs. “Not really.”

“You okay?” Rossi asks, looking at her closely.

“Yeah, just… tired. I’m gonna take that nap now.” She gives them a bright smile, passing the joint to Rossi, and gets up before they can question it.

JJ feels a little better once she’s in a spare bunk with the curtain closed. It’s easier to examine the knot in her chest like this, now that she’s alone in the dark, safe and hidden.

She keeps coming back to the smile on Sam’s face.

There was a moment, earlier, when JJ noticed Sam and Harry from across the room as they talked to Emily and Hotch. Harry had been leaning against Sam’s side. Sam’s arm was draped casually over his shoulder, and he started playing idly with Harry’s hair, combing his fingers through the messy curls at his temple as Harry tilted his head into the touch.

There was a peaceful possessiveness in it—the sort of cozy familiarity that had been worn soft by time like overwashed cotton—an unspoken claim: mine.

How long has it been since JJ felt that with someone, like their closeness was a second skin that she could wear in public?

Not since Emily. Even then it had always been tainted by fear, an overwhelming desire to hide whenever she could feel someone watching.

She and Emily are loudly affectionate with each other in public, of course: drunk and dancing, or clinging to each other as they stagger home, or kissing with an exaggerated smacking sound when anyone mutters disapprovingly in their direction. But that’s brash and performative and platonic, the sort of thing JJ could do just as comfortably with Penelope or Spencer. That’s different.

Anybody who’d seen Sam and Harry would’ve known immediately; that sort of intimacy is unmistakable, and Sam didn’t seem to care. He was smiling like he was proud to show it off.

JJ has seen it in Dean and Cas, too, but never quite so clearly. Maybe it’s because they’ve never had to hide around the Business As Usual crowd, so the contrast hasn’t drawn her attention, or maybe it’s just that they’re not demonstratively tactile in the same way. You have to know him well (and you have to be paying attention) to catch glimpses of the tenderness that Dean masks so well. He doesn’t wear his emotions on his face for everyone to see. JJ can relate.

But Sam wasn’t hiding, that morning; he was just sweet and vulnerable and proud of it and JJ realizes suddenly that she’s jealous. That’s envy squirming around in her belly.

She wants that sort of love: fearless, or maybe in spite of fear. She gets sick of hiding, sometimes.

JJ puts a pin in that thought and tells herself she can deal with it later, when she’s not quite so stoned and maudlin. Right now, it’s naptime.

* * *

Dean intended to nap all the way to Sacramento, but he only manages to doze for a half hour or so. There’s too much on his mind. He pushes groggily through the door and thinks a silent thank you at whoever got the coffee machine going.

Spencer and Jack are sitting on one couch, playing with something that Dean recognizes as a theremin. Sam’s on the other couch, and Harry and Cas are sitting at the table.

“What do you think?” Cas asks, when he notices Dean watching. He holds up two bottles of nail polish.

“Black is punk rock. Pastels are for the Easter bunny’s little sister,” Dean opines.

“Love you too, Dean Bean.” Harry shoots him a cheerful pastel-green-painted middle finger. Dean ruffles his hair affectionately on his way to sit next to Sam.

Dean’s first instinct was to scoff, to snark, to dismiss nail polish as girly, but he knows the instinct is just a vestigial memory of his dad’s stern voice. He’s been getting better at recognizing that voice, in the last few years; for a while he thought he was done with it, figuring that if he could admit he was in love with a guy, he must be over that sort of learned bullshit. Can’t be phobic if you’re one of the homos, right? So… fuck off, Dad.

Then Harry showed up, with his totally fuckin’ zen attitude about annihilating gendered fashion norms, and Dean found himself wincing, sometimes, or looking around furtively to make sure nobody was staring. Even at Bonnaroo, when Harry went around hiding behind wigs and glasses—when the entire point was for him to pass as a girl—Dean’s immediate knee-jerk reaction was to cringe. It’s taken awhile, but he’s getting better at ignoring the fear when it kicks up in his gut.

Dean’s distracted by a drawn-out melancholy squeal.

“Someone turned a taxidermied badger into a theremin one time,” Spencer says happily, as Jack waves his hand over it again. “They called it a badgermin.”

Dean snorts. “Sounds like a violin that needs an exorcism.”

“Or a Barred Owl on barbiturates,” Sam offers.

“Worn-Out-Brake-Pad flavored La Croix.”

“A whale that got so stoned it forgot how to talk.”

“One of the mermaids from Harry Potter having a wet dream,” Spencer suggests, and Cas laughs so hard he almost knocks over the bottle of nail polish.

“Get your shit together, Castiel,” Harry scolds, but he’s giggling too. It’s like being scolded by a very happy sloth. “You’re done, mate. Who’s next, hmm?”

He points at Jack, who shakes his head.

“I need to get some sleep,” he says, and the last word cracks on a yawn.

Sam grins. “Yeah, I’m guessing you didn’t get much rest last night.”

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Grey,” Dean teases, and wolf-whistles as Jack retreats. Cas relocates to the couch, giving Dean a peck on the cheek before sitting back and admiring his manicure.

Harry waves the bottle at Spencer, who doesn’t notice; he’s focused intently on the instrument, coaxing out something that actually sounds like music, in a vague, freaky kind of way.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says, rolling his eyes and settling at the table across from a delighted Harry.

“How about a nice hot pink?” he asks.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wasn’t one of those used in the Doctor Who theme?” Harry asks Spencer. Spencer brightens like a big geeky Christmas tree that’s strung with lights made of useless trivia.

“Now you’ve done it,” Dean says under his breath.

“Actually, that’s a common misconception,” Spencer announces. “The original composition used—”

Dean must be going soft, because he’s actually kind of enjoying this, both the lecture and the manicure.

Then again, he thinks, Sam is enthralled, and Cas is smiling, and maybe Dean’s just really enjoying his life right now.

Fuck off, Dad, he thinks, admiring his pastel green nails.

#criminal minds fic #supernatural fic #harry styles fic #criminal minds #supernatural

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mental-health-advice · 3 years

Note

Hello Pauline! I am the anon who you answered on 22/01 struggling with dating again after a toxic experience. I am so sorry I only saw your reply today, I don’t follow the blog bc it’s quite triggering to see everyone’s experiences.

I am trying journaling but to be honest I’ve genuinely forgot most of the things that happened in that bad relationship - I mainly remember he would get upset I wouldn’t want to go on dates with him (bc I felt anxious) and lash out at me due to his own anger issues. I also remember feeling very unworthy and ugly and awkward although he tried his best to give me compliments and make me feel deserving. The main thing that really set my anxiety was the fact that the first time he kissed me I wasn’t expecting it at all and sort of felt like I didn’t have the chance to give him consent - after that, I basically ran away from every chance he could get to be intimate with me, which made him even angrier.

After I sent that ask I cut out my ex from my life for good (we still talked even after the breakup) and, most importantly, I found out my family has a history of trauma. My mom got postpartum depression after she had me, and my dad grew up in an abusive household; they don’t have a healthy relationship at all, argue a lot and never discuss their feelings. This all has led me to realise I have a lot of thoughts that could be associated to a disorganised attachment style (anxious-avoidant). I feel like I understand myself more now. I am trying to do some inner child work and understand the way I feel about dating is probably influenced by how poorly I was treated as a kid. However, something else that happened is my best friend getting her first boyfriend: I now feel rushed, like I am so behind on everything and should stop isolating from the world and actually try dating someone as well, but I’m so scared to get hurt. Do you have any advice for self-esteem and inner child work? Again, thank you so much for listening.

Hey lovely,

No worries that it took you a while to see my reply! I’m glad you saw it eventually and I hope it was helpful. I’ve linked your ask, just so that it’s easier for me to find if I ever need to in the future.

Journalling doesn’t always have to be about specific bad memories from that relationship. It can be about your current dating experiences and how it’s making you feel. By journalling about that, you are discovering the connections with your previous experience. Or it can be about regular daily life and your feelings and thoughts regarding that. It doesn’t have to be about your most traumatic experiences in order for it to be helpful.

What you do remember from the relationship does sound very difficult to deal with! I can imagine that it’s had its effect on you. So know that your feelings are super valid! When you’re dealing with anxiety and someone else is dealing with anger issues, these two can make each other so much worse. You get anxious because of his anger issues, he gets angry because you're feeling anxious, it’s a vicious cycle!

Well done to you for cutting your ex out of your life! That is honestly such a brave step and I am so proud of you!! And it sounds like you’ve made some big realisations, which is amazing as well! It’s hard to figure these things out and to realise that they’ve had an effect on you. But you did that!

What I think is important to realise is that everybody does things at their own pace. The fact that your best friend is getting her first boyfriend, does not mean that you should be having a boyfriend. It’s okay if it takes you longer! I’m 26 and I’ve never had a relationship even! I don’t think you’re behind at all, I think you’re going at the pace that suits you and what matters most is that you feel comfortable with that pace.

I once did a group therapy on self image and I can share what we had to do there. I found that it was actually really helpful, but you do need to stick to it. I didn’t stick to it and now I’ve noticed that my self image has gotten worse again, so I know I need to pick it back up. Basically what you do, is you get a new notebook and that is going to be your ‘whitebook’ (this is a literal translation of what we call it in Dutch, I don’t think there’s a proper English word for it). In this whitebook you’re going to do two things:

At the front, you’re going to write down daily positive things. You can start easy, by just listing positive things in general. Then you make it harder by writing down positive things that have something to do with you. Something you said, did, thought, anything. You start small, by only writing down a few things and then you gradually increase the amount that you’re writing down every single day.

In the back, you’re going to keep a list with positive characteristics of yourself. These characteristics are derived from the daily positive things you’ve written down. So each day, you’ll look at them and ask yourself; what positive characteristics do I recognise here? Usually, multiple characteristics can be found in one positive daily thing! It can also be about how you’re able to do something. I remember that I once wrote down as a positive daily thing that I had taken a bath (which I like doing), so the therapist of the group suggested that I wrote down ‘is able to perform self-care’. I didn’t feel like it’d fit on my list, because I’m usually not very good at it, but eventually I wrote it down, because I /am/ able to! Not always, but there are times where I am. The idea is that you read over this list with positive characteristics often. This really enforced the idea in your head that you have positive characteristics and therefore builds up your self image.

For inner child work I’d recommend imagining that you’re talking to your younger self. We often have days where we’re really hard on ourselves and our head is filled with negative self talk. So imagine this, your younger self is sitting on a chair. And you are telling your younger self all that negative talk. That doesn’t feel right, doesn’t it? What would you say to your younger self instead? I bet you’d be a lot kinder!

And it isn’t only about how you talk to yourself, it’s also about listening to your needs. I know that I tend to completely go past my own needs, because I feel like it’s not important. So take a step back and think ‘if I were a child, would I treat myself like this?’ Would you go on and on, or would you take a nap, have a snack, have some play time, etc. In our hearts we are all children and we deserve to be treated with that same love. We have a bit more responsibilities than children do, but that also means that we need relaxation time as a break from those responsibilities.

I hope that this all makes sense and that this helps you! Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with. Take care!

Sometimes what seems impossible, is just hard. Love Pauline

#mental health #advice #advice blog #dating #toxic dating experience #relationship #journalling #family #family relationship #postpartum depression #depression #abuse #self image #mhapauline

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Written In The Stars XCI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I'd missed this silly goose! tho the actors in hp for some reason look way older so he looks like a baby but pls imagine Erick like this older-looking student bc he should look that way jdhfd -Danny

Words: 2,195

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty-Six: Talk it out.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being —" The door opened. "About t — !" Hermione froze when she found Dumbledore there instead of their friend.

"Good afternoon," he said.

"We — er — we wanted to see Hagrid."

"Yes, I surmised as much," He said in amusement. "Why don't you come in?"

"Oh... um... okay."

Hagrid was sitting at the table, there were two mugs of tea. For the looks of it, he'd been crying.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.

" 'Lo," he said lowly.

"More tea, I think," said Dumbledore, and with the flick of his wand, a tea tray appeared. "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid? Hermione, Mel, Harry, and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow — sorry, Professor..."

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up to the ceiling with interest.

"Er — right... I just meant — Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that — woman — wrote about you?" Hagrid cried silently, two huge tears falling down his beard.

"Oh, Hagrid, don't cry!" Mel's hand went to rest above his, looking almost comically small.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," said Dumbledore. "I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it —"

"Not all of 'em," said Hagrid. "Not all of 'em wan' me ter stay."

"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time. Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"

"Yeh — yeh're not half-giant!"

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said in disbelief. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"An excellent point," said Dumbledore. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practising inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery..."

Mel looked at her uncle knowing that there was certainly more he could say about their family, but she remained quiet.

"Come back and teach, Hagrid," said Hermione, "please come back, we really miss you."

"I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," said Dumbledore, standing up to leave. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."

When the Headmaster left the cabin, Hagrid sobbed for real, hiding his face behind both hands.

"Great man, Dumbledore... great man..."

"Yeah, he is," said Ron. "Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?"

"Help yerself," said Hagrid. "Ar, he's righ', o' course — yeh're all righ'... I bin stupid... my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin'... Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here..."

Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid's crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth — he looked hardly older than eleven.

"Tha' was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid croaked. "Dad was dead chuffed... thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum... well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really... but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year...

"Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job... trusts people, he does. Gives 'em second chances... tha's what sets him apar' from other heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'... well... all tha' respectable. But some don' understand that. There's some who'd always hold it against yeh... there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an' say — I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.' An' he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin' with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones... I'll give her big bones."

The kids shared nervous glances, but Hagrid kept talking without waiting for a reply.

"Yeh know wha', Harry? When I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum an' Dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it... an' now look at yeh, Harry! School champion! Yeh know what I'd love, Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all... yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?"

"Great," said Harry shakily. "Really great."

"Tha's my boy... you show 'em, Harry, you show 'em. Beat'em all..."

"But if it doesn't turn out as expected," Mel was quick to add. "Know that we are all proud of you as well, Hagrid. We love you very much."

"I'll follow Cedric's advice," Harry told her quietly before going to bed that night.

"Blimey, all it took was a crying Hagrid..." Mel raised her eyebrows. "Want help?"

"No," He replied. "Dunno... I'll let you know."

"All right," She sighed. "Good luck."

She had an important matter to attend that day in private and it could only be between her and Erick. She used the pocket watch he'd given her and informed him that she wanted to talk. On Monday, both students met at the far end of the library, Mel had no idea where to start.

"I won't apologize for what I said the other day, I know you hate it when I do that," She began, "but you're hiding something and I would like to know what it is, maybe I can help you?"

She was expecting many reactions, all except the one she got. Erick let out a long sigh and picked out of his bag one of the books she'd lent him.

"Persuasion?" Mel raised a brow.

"I take that you've read it?" He asked.

"I love it," She smiled at it. "The main character's name is Anne, right?"

"Yes," Erick shook his head. "The story... It made me think– What if I'm making a mistake?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What if I don't like Anne the way I think I do?" He elaborated. "I wrote and she wrote back every week, we never ran out of things to say, but the last week before going to my grandad's house she said something that... What if I just like her because she's the complete opposite of what my parents want?"

"I feel like those are unrelated, I'm not sure I follow," Mel frowned. "Since when you've been having doubts?"

"Since Anne and I started to talk more this summer. It's not exactly that I have doubts, I mean, I know I feel something, I just don't know what."

"I don't think there's a reasoning behind the people we like," She retorted. "...Right?"

"If there's no reasoning, then I guess it's all right, but if I'm supposed to have one... I don't have it. I can't tell why I like her."

"Well, you think she's pretty?"

"Yeah," Erick moved on his place awkwardly. "Although I think other girls are pretty too, and I could even get along with them as I do with Anne. If you were to ask me why I'm interested in her, I wouldn't know."

"But that's normal," Mel tried to calm him. "Love has no logic, that doesn't mean is bad?"

"Listen," He put a finger on the book and pointed harshly. "If I just like her because she's pretty and fun then it wouldn't be bad... Yet I think I'm around her because I know it'd make my parents mad, when I'm here, at school, I don't worry about her... I do wonder, but is not constant."

"So? I don't think about Harry all day."

"Aren't I supposed to be dying of solitude when I'm away from her? Maybe this is just a lie I tell myself so I feel like a normal guy, maybe I'm incapable of falling in love and Anne is just my excuse to be a bad son..."

There was a piece of paper coming out of the book, she took it without thinking. Erick kept rambling without looking at what she was doing and her eyes skimmed through the letter. The seams were so worn out that she could tell the boy had read it several times.

"Anne likes someone else..." She said quietly.

Erick's eyes landed on the piece of paper his face turned pale. "Give me that."

"His name's Stuart and he's nice...'" Mel read out loud. "Her boyfriend?"

"No," He said, seizing the letter. "He could be... but she's waiting."

"Waiting?"

"For me."

"And you don't want to say anything," Mel said slowly, "because you're not sure?"

"I can't be with her," Erick said with difficulty. "Not yet... I have two more years of school, even then I don't know when I'll be able to leave my parents' house..."

"But you like her."

"My parents won't approve."

"You don't have to tell them."

"I can't do that!" He said. "Imagine that Harry's parents were alive and they hated everything about you. That every time they see you they'd throw nasty remarks your way, and then Harry'd be out in the street with no money and without being able to give you a good life, imagine you're from two different worlds and nothing you have to offer can get him out trouble..."

"I think... I think we'd both be in pain all the time," Mel said quietly, "...Is that how you feel?"

"That's what will happen if I do the wrong thing," Erick ran a hand through his hair, ruining his neat curls. "I'd love to send a letter telling her everything... but we're young, I wasn't expecting things to move as fast as they did... she's great, she really is, but she doesn't even know I'm a wizard. There are too many secrets and I just think Anne deserves better. Maybe Stuart can do better."

"I think that in a way, you're right," Mel pushed the book towards him. "But I've seen you read and learn, get rid of so many prejudices just to meet her, not even knowing if she'd like you back... that has to mean something."

Erick supported his head in one hand, rubbing his forehead. "All I know is that if I pull her away from this boy without telling her everything... I'll end up ruining one of the best things that have ever happened to me."

"Then?" She frowned. "You're going to... you're just going to leave her?"

Erick swallowed the lump in his throat. "I want her to choose him... I'm not around anyway, I could even mention the ball and Daphne just to... to make her think..."

"You're gonna hurt her," She told him, not in a reproachful tone, but one that had to be said. "I guess this is the gentlest way you can do it... and it's not forever, right? I mean, if everything goes as planned, eventually you'll be able to try. It's meant to be."

"Meant to be?" He chuckled bitterly. "You sound too sure."

"I am," She responded sincerely. "You and Anne will end up together... just like Harry and me, if I'm lucky enough."

Erick gave her a look, a tiny smile on his lips. "Warming up to the idea then?"

"I've been too hard on myself and Harry," She shrugged. "I think life can be a fairytale if we do what we're meant to do."

"How are we supposed to know what that is?"

"Fate will find a way," Mel got up and patted his shoulder. "Just don't lose hope..."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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lorrynha · 4 years

Text

So there was this thread I wanted to write since I saw bnha288 leaks, and I told myself I wouldn't get back to social media until I finished writing it...

Turns out I'm really really slow at writing, and could manage just to get half of it done 💔

Anyway, I thought it'd be better to post half of it than nothing, since the chapter will come out this week anyway 😅

So here's the half I got done, I hope you like it 🤗

I can't talk enough about how much I loved bnha288. Not just because it gave us some badass Ochako moments we've been waiting since this arc began, and the fact that part of it is her rematch with Toga Himiko is absolutely perfect, but also how this very fight can help develop how Uraraka sees hero society and, more importantly, how this will develop her character even more.

But first, let's discuss what might happen on #bnha289:

IMO there are basically three ways this fight is gonna go down:

• Someone is gonna interrupt them;

• Toga wins;

• Ochako wins.

First of all, I do not like the first one. This is the rematch most of us have been waiting for the most (yes, more than a Deku x Bakugou rematch). It's their moment, with no one to be in their way.

About the last two, first thing to say is that I had a feeling that Mr Compress' marble was totally a chekhov's gun as soon as I saw it, and I'm completely sure that the winner is gonna use it to capture the loser.

Now the second one (Toga wins) is... complicated, to say the least.

Someone might say "I wanna Toga to capture Ochako so she'll have another great rescue arc like Bakugou had". Well... yes, but actually no.

You see, the LOV captured Bakugou for a very specific reason. They wanted that very arrogant and explosive boy, with in their eyes very much potential to become a villian, to turn sides an joint them. But that wasn't what happened. In fact, that arc, and his spare against Midoriya that came after that just how much he wants to be a hero, despite of this very flawed personality.

That rescuing arc not only showed us how the other characters felt about that, but most importantly it showed us how Bakugou really is: he will never become a villian. He had always been a power hunger person, always aiming for being stronger, but he wants to do it all while being a hero. He's not willing to change sides just for power.

Now getting back to Ochako, I ask you: if she lost and was captured by Toga, what would this tell us about both of them?

First, it'd establish that Toga is a sadistic sociopath that wants to keep Ochako for herself because she's obsessed with her. And, well, we already know that. And if that happened, I don't believe Toga would tell the LOV she has Ochako literally in her hands, becuase unlike what happened with Bakugou, they have no intention on turning Ochako to their side, and Toga knows that keeping a hero as a hostage just for fun would cause trouble to the League. I'd be a rather meaningless capture, just to traumatise Ochako to hating Toga and the LOV even more.

Second, it'd establish that Ochako is weak and unskilled, wich is not true. Ochako has been a hero in training for almost a year, and Toga is just a regular girl that joined the LOV few months ago. And think about it: On their first fight, even when Toga was pinned down, she was able to destabilize Ochako just buy calling out her crush and telling her they were alike. Now at the very last page of chapter 288 we have the exact opposite thing happening: Toga is pinning Ochako down, and Ochako's is completly ignoring what Toga is saying so she can focus on her mission. Wouldn't it be very disappointing if Ochako lost again, showing us that she didn't actually made that much progress in her physical, mental and emotional skills since their last fight?

Now I think it's gonna be way more interesting if Ochako wins. Because despite defeating the villain, she won't feel happy nor proud about it. Instead, she might feel confused, wondering if the hero's side is in fact the "good side" of this war.

No, this is not a "Ochako becomes a traitor" theory. She still wants to be a hero, she still wants to go to UA, but now something is bothering her.

That's how I picture chapter 289 in my head:

They're gonna fight, and it's gonna be so badass.

Toga will get to hurt Ochako, scratching her face, her arm or something, but then Ochako manages to steal away Toga's knife and pin her down. Toga is totally trapped, there's nothing more she can do, and Ochako is holding that knife, pointing it at her...

Toga: so, heroine... Are you going to kill me? Are you going to kill me, just like you "heros" did with Jin?

Ochako: Jin? Who's Jin?

Toga: See??? You don't even know his name! So he wasn't a real person to you, right? So you could save him too? Why did you have to kill him!?

Ochako is devastated. She knows they are the villains, she knows they are just getting what they deserve. But here is Toga... not just that random villian that had attacked her, but a girl like her, a girl just her age, crying over the death of a dear friend...

Toga: You call us the villains, but you are even worse!

Toga is very good at disguising her self for deceiving others, just like she did with her a very few minutes ago. She needs to be great at acting and lying to succeed. But right now... Ochako knows she's not faking it. She's genuinely sad.

Ochako: No... I'm not gonna kill you...

She drops the knife in the ground beside them and reveals she has a tiny shiny green ball in her hands.

Ochako: But I can't let you go either.

She then uses that marble to trap Toga.

Ochako watches the girl vanishing in front of her eyes in mere seconds.

"Toga-chan... I'm... I'm sorry... I can't save you right now..." Ochako can see a very little version of Toga inside the marble. She hugs it with her hands and cries quietly.

She spends very few seconds crying. She knows she must get back to their mission. Ochako puts it in her uniform and... her pocket is already filled with something.

Oh, right, that little All Might keychain she was gifted on their Christmass party.

She looks at both of them: the keychain in one hand and the marble in the other one. The hero and the villain, the good and the evil...

Ochako is way too confused right now. But she cannot think about all of that right now. She wipes away her tears and run back to Tsuyu. End of the chapter.

I know I'm probably wrong on my headcanons because I'm not a good writer like Horikoshi is, and I know he and his team already wrote a very great chapter, that I'm for sure gonna love and brag about. But, even so, I do really like this headcanon of mine.

What's the core of Ochako's character? She wants to be a hero because she always wanted to help people. She's also happy and lively girl that likes to cheer everyone up, especially their friends.

We can see how she and Iida literally adopted little introverted Izuku and they became a best friends trio. We see she also became Tsuyu best friend, a girl that's also a little reserved.

At first, she wanted to be a hero basically for the job. And yet, not just for the money, but for helping her parents to have a easier life.

She also realised that helping people also includes not getting in anyones way. She thought a relationship would only disturb hers and Deku's focus on being heroes. So she ignored her crush on him, while using these same feelings as a thrust to keeping moving forward.

(and even if my shipper side felt sad when I first watched this, I have to admit this was a great mature decision of her, and the story wouldn't be as good as it is if she had confessed to him that time. It's great that Kohei is giving time for both their relationship and for their character development)

On the Overhaul arc, right after Sir. Night Eye died in her hands, her motivation developed to "I want to help people" to "I want to save people". Now she was 100% sure about what kind of hero she wanted to be: she wanted to be a rescue hero.

When she saved Deku from Black Whip, she asked herself: "of heroes save others, than who's gonna save them when they need it?". This is a very important moment, because while we know who she's talking about right now, she is still subconsciously thinking furtherly: "who's gonna save the people we usually forget to save?"

And now we're watching her making probably one of the most important steps of her development: "Who's gonna save the villains? If we are heroes, why are we killing them, defeating them, when they're just humans like us that need to be saved?"

Ochako is not the traitor and she never will be. She's still mad at Toga and at the villains. She knows that this danm war is their fault. She just wants it to end as soon as possible, and to everyone to be safe and sound. She's sure that the villains side is the worst thing ever, just as bad as it ever could be. But the point is: why isn't the heroes side as good and perfect as it should be?

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

I wanted to make a part two talking about how Ochako will eventually help Izuku realize that the hero society is not as perfect as he think it is, and how this would be great character development for him. Maybe I'll finish writing it someday 😆😌

Thank you so much for reading this tread. I really hope you like it. Please feel free to comment sharing your opinions on what you agree and disagree about all of this, I'm highly open for your reviews on my thoughts 💗

#ochako urakara #toga himiko #bnha #bnha 289 #manga spoilers

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