#local artist finishes first ever WIP

[pb-dot]

Past/Current/Next Tag

Don't think I've seen this tag yet, well, before @dyrewrites tagged me in it at any rate.

Rules: Write about three WIPs, past is a WIP you stopped working on/finished; current is a WIP you're currently working on; next is a WIP you want to write

I tag: @bard-coded @lordfenric-writes @stesierra aaaaaand @cat-esper

Past

There'll probably be more work to do on it as I move toward publishing, but for now my work at The Clockwork Boy is done. TCB is a Clockpunk Queer Romance story about Love, Belonging and Revolution. The story follows Jake, a gearcrafter journeyman in a city stuck in a peculiar anarcho-capitalist stasis. Jake's tedious yet stressful life is upended as he (quite literally) runs into 13, a former assassin with a clockwork-powered body who seeks desperate sanctuary from the pursuit of his former employers.

Jake and 13 flee, both from the clockwork assassins and from the local brute squads, until they find themselves under the auspices of a worker's coop known as The Northwest. Their new allies prove vital shelter and help as Jake works to repair 13's clockwork body, but the heat it attracts to the organization has the two questioning whether they need to flee while they can or rise up to fight for their new friends.

A snippet:

“I suppose we should turn in for the night,” Jake said after a while. “I’ve got some gears I’d like to try carving tomorrow, and if you’re not doing anything else, I’d love to see if they fit the way they’re supposed to.” 13 yawned. “That does sound like a good idea.” “Oh, I got loads of those,” “Oh yeah, like?” 13 asked, a slight teasing note in his voice. “For one, I once got the idea to throw away my shitty job and terrible apartment to go chasing after this clockwork cutie. Best career decision I’ve ever made if you ask me.”

Current

My current tormentor obsession maddening descent WIP is a Queer Horror story about Art, Obsession, Madness, and Love. Our protagonist is an obsessive San Francisco art critic by the name of Oscar Skerry. Oscar's obsession centers on the works of one Tomasz Gildebrant, a reclusive artist whose bleak, rough paintings go for exorbitant prices due to their sheer cult appeal. As Oscar follows up on the thread of the urban legend known as Gildebrant Psychosis, how the paintings can provoke behavior in certain viewers that is either disturbingly violent or merely extremely odd, Oscar finds himself invited to Gildebrant's home. Warning bells should ring, but Oscar pays them no heed and wastes no time traveling to the secluded spot in the Carpathian Alps where he meets the artist he sometimes sees in his dreams. Tomasz seems almost too gregarious and welcoming at first, hardly the dark soul Oscar expected at all, but the things that don't quite add up keep piling on. Gildebrant lives alone, so who owns all the shoes that litter his entryway, why does every door in the house lock automatically at midnight, and why does Oscar keep dreaming about colors that don't exist?

This and much more will be revealed in His Impossible Brushstrokes, a standalone novel that asks you to consider what would happen in the opening of Dracula if the titular character and his victim Jonathan Harker fell in love, or if the master the Beast from Beauty and The Beast served was entirely less comprehensible than a magical rose.

Snippet:

At one point that night, I had fallen asleep. I couldn’t be certain it had happened before the gray hours of morning, but I had fallen asleep and I had slept. I knew this because I woke up, which traditionally required one to be asleep at some point. My body was stiff after the strenuous hike the day before, my brain was foggy from the jetlag, and my heart was certainly feeling in need of some sort of maintenance on account of the situation being somewhat confusing. That did, however not change that I was alive, I was in the home of who I considered to be the premier artist of our time, and he seemed genuinely happy to have me here. Granted, he also had some hair-trigger mood changes I’d need to work around and I had conflicting emotions about the whole setup.

In a way, none of this was entirely unexpected, I told myself. Gildebrant considering himself a fan of mine threw me quite a bit, but it was a nice sort of surprise so I wasn’t going to complain about that. The question, however, remained. How were I to proceed. Did I, strictly speaking, have a plan? In a way, I did not. I had wanted to meet Gildebrant, but I had assumed it’d take a long time, that I’d have a lot of time to figure out how to act, what to ask about, and ask for. Then there was the question of Gildebrant’s occasional brusqueness meant I had to be careful.

Some care, I decided as I sat up in bed and scooted my legs off the side of the bed, was perhaps called for. Gildebrant seemed quite comfortable with my company as long as the topic of his art wasn’t brought up, although I would concede that my sample size was rather limited. For now, it would be smart to keep things personal, develop some sort of baseline. If nothing else, it’d allow me to chart out the waters a little, figure out what it was that made this odd artist tick. I could work my way into the more academically valuable stuff later, and if not, securing some autobiographical details would certainly be something I could use in my works. I certainly wasn’t going to bring up xenosemiotics anytime soon, that seemed foolhardy in light of last night.

Next

I haven't yet decided on what my next project should be, but I do have some strong candidates. The Clockwork Guardian, the sequel to The Clockwork Boy, is on there for sure, but I may postpone that if my efforts to publish go nowhere. I also feel like writing more horror, so the socially conscious folk horror Draugr (working title) or the horror-fantasy Monsters, Slayers (working title) might also be good alternatives. I also have a bureaucracy-fairytale procedural with the title Department of Troll Affairs that I might pull the trigger on.

My strongest candidate, though, is the "30s-punk" deconstructionist postapocalyptic fantasy novel The Town Called After. It's about a group of people that, as kids, went on adventures in faraway magical realms. Now, 20 years later they're all adults, and finding themselves longing for the simplicity and potential of those magical adventures. One should, however, be careful what one wishes for, as our heroes find themselves pulled back into the magical realms, only to be told they are all destroyed.

Something incomprehensible shattered the magical realms and the few survivors have bandied together to create the city of After, a ramshackle town and community from salvaged parts of their old world. These survivors now plead for the help of these, the heroes of their legends. Our protagonists seize the task in the hope of reclaiming their lost glory, but find that things aren't as simple as they remember. Politics and corruption suffuse every level of this fledgling society, and crime born both of desperation and greed intertwine and intermingle in a way that makes it nearly impossible to separate one from the other. In addition to these moral qualms and finding out what being a hero even means in such times of toil and hardship, our heroes must uncover the truth of the calamity that shattered the worlds, lest this new home share their fate.

[artswaps]

Man I rlly miss being on tumblr sometimes. Like in a capacity where I'm actively engaging with other fans and creators.

I'm still here a lot but 99% of my activity is just lurking and binge-liking posts. Sorry to all the artists whose content I've liked and not reblogged. I've become the greatest malefactor of my own pet peeve lol.

(Ironic cos I think one of the biggest contributing factors to my dwindling online presence was lack of reach+engagement on my art. Combined with the frustration of never being able to consistently create or follow through on the projects I wanted to make, which made it so that even if it was my Best Work Ever, it never would've crossed peoples' radars. Such is the social media artists' curse yada yada.)

Anyway. Maybe I'll start trying to post stuff again. I decided to spontaneously hyperfixate on rottmnt recently as a means of procrastinating on assessments, so I really like Turtles now :)

I also have some Owl House wips i wanna share. I think my problem is I don't like posting things when they're still unfinished. And then because of lack of feedback, I never find motivation to finish, so they don't get seen at all.

But there was an Owl House animatic I was pouring my heart and soul into for a while that I'd feel comfortable posting bits of. And some original work.

Idk. I'm a full-time student now and also I've been busy with con prep for my first time tabling last month (a harrowing but ultimately successful experience; I'm rlly proud of myself!!), and looking at starting to booth at local markets etc.

But it'd be nice to ease back into this more self-indulgent side of art again. If I have time.

[breitzbachbea]

dk if you’re taking asks for it but. 17 and 18 for the writer’s ask game? 😳

I am always taking asks that give me an opportunity to blabber about my writing process! <3

Weird Questions for Writers

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

You actually caught me WIP-free for the first time in 7 years! 😳 I finished all of my big projects this year. I’m currently working on the outline for the Irish Problems rewrite, but I am still waffling around a lot and there isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid. And if I started to talk about the history of Irish Problems, we’d still be here tomorrow. That’s for another day, perhaps.

However, this is why I waited for the prompts of hwsrarepairweek to drop! I had a lot of fun with it last year, so I’ll hopefully be able to participate in it again this year! I’ll keep the ships to TurGre, SicIre and GreSic again, but here are the ideas I had so far:

Writer & Artist: I may finally be able to deliver a scrap for the Neighbourhood AU for @needcake that I never had the time to write for 👉🏻👈🏻 It’d be about Sadık reading his poetry at the monthly “Everyone can come and read their pieces for 10 minutes to the interested public” event of the local literature club. Little does he know though that Dilan told the twins about him doing this and that after he told Herakles he would have liked to study Literature, Herakles talked about it with the twins, who in turn told him about the event. Either way, it’s shortly before his reading when Herakles either comes in or Sadık spots him, so … little time to panic and wonder what the hell he is doing here. Afterwards, he is also contemplating whether or not he should sneak away and never bring this up again or if he should walk up to Herakles, but Herakles takes the choice off his hands. They talk a little bit about it and Sadık asks him if he liked it. Herakles gives the evasive answer of “Well, I liked it better than that one guy’s crime short story.” Sadık laughs, says that guy (Gilbert) has been trying for so hard for so long, but maybe some things aren’t meant to be. Wanna grab a coffee? So they grab a coffee <3 I suck abysmally at writing poetry … and I would have to research Turkish poetry/poets … but it’d be interesting and I can probably weasel myself out of writing the actual poem.

Historical: Since me re-using the topic of my term paper worked so well last year, I thought why not do it again! It’s a bit trickier than it is with the curse tablets at Bath, but I finally realized I should put my knowledge about the Siege of Syracuse to good use! It’d be SicIre again, set in the Imperial Rome AU, but many years later. Not only did they move to Ostia, but they also moved into Herakles’ domus, while he found his calling working on his villa rustica. Michele contemplates another trip to Syracuse, his home, and Harry wants to tag along this time. They talk a lot about the city and Michele goes on and on about its beauty. To illustrate his point, he gets out his books which talk about it, which would include some texts like Plutarch mentioning both the Siege of Syracuse and Marcellus’ ovation, where he paraded around its spoils. It’d be bittersweet, too, if they talk about family. Michele’s mother may or may not be alive anymore and Harry hasn’t heard from his family ever since he left Hibernia, basically.

Supernatural: Sicily Is A Monstrous Island, Baby!!! I’d love to put my book “Creature Fantastiche di Sicilia” to good use and Michele tell Herakles about some of the ghastly inhabitants of the island. I’d set it some time, like weeks, months or even a year after last year’s GreSic oneshot. Whereas in that one they were in Herakles’ house, now they spend the night in Michele’s mansion. Perhaps Maria, Michele’s mother, has gone off with the twins elsewhere for a few days; perhaps they are simply asleep, in which case Michele would take extra precautions to not wake the twins. He’d also suspect them behind every moving shadow, since they’re two ne’er-do-wells and tricksters. They’re also, like, 13 or 14, so complete little shits. He probably tells Herakles the story when he hired Alessia, an older teenager that recently started to work for him, to scare the twins into believing that there ARE bedtime monsters like the Grecu Livanti, who will get and eat them if they don’t wise up real quick. Nothing about that plan went as it should have been, Michele apologised for it all profusely in the end, Alessia will still never let the twins hear the end of it. However, the house isn’t haunted by Alessia, or the twins or a Grecu Livantu … it is haunted by the memories of Michele and Herakles making out in his childhood room. It’s haunted by the people who built it and whose burden Michele yet chose to carry, not strong enough to do the right thing. It is, if anything, haunted by a Turnatu. A body that just couldn’t stay dead … someone who crossed back over from the other side, only to drain the living he left behind of their energy … If the last drabble was about the comforting shared past of language, this one is about the horrid, personal one of ghosts.

Pirates & Mermaids: IT’S CORSAIR AU TIME BABY!!! I’d have to research so much for this one, but I want to write it soooo badly 😭 I think the mermaids would be metaphorical, though, and would lend themselves as an excellent metaphor for some parts of the story. You see, the idea behind this one is that in the 16th/17th century, Omar and Timothea ran away from home. Not intending to do their poor mother and father any harm, but Omar had fallen in love with one of the crewmates of an Ottoman corsair ship and wanted to be with her. Thea came along for the ride and to help her brother out, of course. Either way, Natasa asked Herakles to go after the twins, so he embarked on the journey to find them … and promptly ends up on an Ottoman Corsair ship, but not on his own volition. Its captain is Sadık, who takes a liking to this stowaway and his pretty face. I actually don’t have a concrete timeline for this AU, or anything resembling a plot, but that are some points that definitely happen in the story. Hijinks ensue, which also include a Sicilian taverna owner, a brief cameo of the Spanish navy and, in a much more central role, their allies, a bunch of Irish Pirates! This story has got it all, baby! Either way, for the Oneshot, I’d set it sometime after these events though, when Herakles sails on the corsair ship for work reasons and … perhaps companionship? They start talking about sirens and joke a bit about how Omar had indeed been lured to sea by Dilan. Ah yes, those Sirens … “But perhaps, it fits the story better if it was he who lured her in? Spotting him from the ship, watching from atop the rocks … there certainly is something very tempting about your kind …” Sadık says and perhaps an arm snakes around Herakles’ waist …

Fantasy: I was thinking about using this SicIre scenario for rarepairweek anyways and this AU is a) literally called the “Myth AU” and b) I don’t know what is going on there anymore. The timeperiods are all a hopeless mess, there’s normal humans but also, Paddy is a giant, Charlie is a changeling, Tahir a sorcerer and the Bontade twins are the sons of Hermes. Whatever the fuck it is, it should be able to qualify for Fantasy. And because I am dying to tell this story to someone else, you’re also getting the rundown of what happened before the actual Oneshot idea but is tied to it. So, here is the rundown: 1. Tahir is currently working on magic portals, however he keeps being interrupted by Charlie’s changeling fuckery and the twins’ semi-divine bullshit, because the Irish and their friends LIVE to frustrate the English 2. Tahir asks Robert if he wants to make him a very happy man, which Robert sure does want to, but he'd also kill Charlie for just the pleasure of it. 3. A plan is hatched, Arthur, their king, is involved and it goes as followed: Robert, as a loyal knight to Arthur, will be sent as a delegation, alongside with some other knights, to the Irish castle. They cannot refuse them on the grounds of hospitality. So they get in and when Charlie one night sneaks around, like the twins, to see what is going on, Robert finds him and … just splashes a potion on him. Charlie is mightily confused that that’s the only thing Robert has done. He doesn’t like the smug expression and the predatory grin on his face when he tells him: “Oh, you’ll just … wait.” 4. Charlie continues to be confused, but starts to feel strange over the next couple of days … more aggressive, more anti-social, less able to control his powers and his strength. Because! What they don’t know! The plan was to craft a potion that would bring out Charlie’s changeling nature in full force. Thusly, if he then rampaged through the court, nobody could fault Robert for taking care of the problem! He was out of control! The beast had to be killed before it hurt anyone, as tragic as that is! 5. However, when the rampage eventually happened, they did not bank on the Irish REFUSING to let Charlie go. They did not bank on a good old “I know you’re still in there” fight! Harry just beats the SHIT out of Charlie, while he also gets the SHIT beaten out of him, invoking their brotherly bond! We grew up together, remember? Side by side! I’ve known you all my life and this isn’t you! I know my friend’s still in there! I KNOW IT! 6. And it works! Probably just when or before Robert has had enough and still tries to bring the plan to fruition as planned. Either way, the English are found out and get back home with their tails between their legs, Robert both incredibly disappointed with himself and also simply frustrated that all this ordeal was for nothing, stifled so shortly before he got the pleasure of finally shutting that annoying little fairy up once and for all. In the meantime, Harry contemplates how to handle the aftermath of the situation in the evening, while Michele already sits in bed and does some reading. It's here we get to the actual Oneshot. So Harry asks Michele for his opinion, Michele says You should ask your men, not me, your politics isn’t my lane now as guest of the court, is it. And Harry says, true, true, but as he slips underneath the sheets, he says that it would be his lane to advice the King as a King’s consort. And in my head, I just have Michele staring into nothing, past Harry, elated but surprised, a blush on his face and Harry already either cuddling him or kissing him, while he says: “Oh? I’m the King’s consort?” And then we’ll either have a bit more serious discussion about Michele’s future and role at the court or just some absolute teeth-rotting SicIre fluff, perhaps with some spicy fading to black <3

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

God, that question. I’ll be honest with you, I forgot most circumstances under which I wrote most of my stories. I think it’s also because good moments often come to me on the go, later get implemented into the work and then polished a bit. Or I’m often working on scenes for at least two days, sometimes longer, because I rewrite them when I come back and didn’t like what I wrote last.

One of the clearest moments I still have in my memory is … tbh also very foggy, but I remember sitting on my bed and being up very late for a schoolday, writing with my daylightlamp right in front of me and probably chugging Soda. And you know what I wrote? Irish Problems, Chapter 4, Scene 2 The one where Paddy has to squeeze himself into the Mito. THAT is the one I still remember.

I still have the “raw draft” document for Italian Affairs, aka the document where I dump all ideas for a scene as they come to me. I actually got lost for a while, rereading bits and pieces I had written for the draft that never made it into the story … I am actually surprised how many ideas I had before I ever reached many scenes! It’s also such a great testament to how fundamentally the tone of the story changed over time; a lot of these snippets are so much goofier, contain so many more asides for the sake of asides. Here is an example – From a scene that was described like this in the outline: “Okay let's figure out how to drive on italian streets. Very very gay moments between Charlie and Marco, also - they took the baaaiiit ~”

"Nice cabrio." "I see, someone finally found each other." "Ach hör mir auf!" [Oh, stop it, you!]

You know which scene this is? Chapter 17, Scene 1. The Chapter called “Running Beneath”, the scene that starts in Charlie’s Porsche, just after they picked up Marco. The dialogue snippet above was about them running into Francesco during the chase sequence, where they would have actually talked with one another. Charlie would have complemented Francesco’s car, while Francesco would have commented on Marco clinging to Charlie. It would have been comedic banter, good-natured.

Here's what the scene looks like in Chapter 17:

They both kept silent. Not for long however, as Charlie looked around. It was a mystery how he, or Marco, hadn’t noticed the car in the lane next to him yet. You didn’t overlook a Ferrari, much less when its white coating blazed in the autumn sun. And yet, only now he stared at Francesco Belfari’s face, barely half a meter away from him. “Fuck,” he said. The other two followed his looks. Marco jumped; Charlie heard his legs shuffle on the backseat and felt the vibrations as his head collided with the headrest. “Ou, fuck,” Marco cursed and asked in the same breath: “Where did that bastard come from?! We’ve been staring behind us all the time, the traffic was so thick that if he’s here, he must have been behind us before! What the fuck?!” Charlie threw a look at the traffic light, but it was still red. When his look went back to Belfari, the other was letting down his window. He looked at him with a smile on his face. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. He wagged his hand down. “What?” Charlie whispered. “What in the hell’s this shit about?!” Marco asked. “Whatever he wants to tell us, I don’t want to hear it,” Harry said. “Let’s get out of here before him!” Charlie’s eyes snapped back to the traffic light in the same moment Marco said: “Go!” This time, he was readily colour blind and ran the yellow light.

Quite the tonal difference, huh? I don’t think I ever realized how much my stories have matured ever since their conception. I’ve came a long way, truly and I think it’s very interesting to see all the components. Yes, my writing skill has improved since I started, but Francesco’s character also has changed as the years went on. My focus regarding what the story is about has shifted. Writing isn’t just the words on the page; it’s every thought behind them. But you can only approach and unpack them if you have words to put on the page, which I think it is very important to keep writing. Yes, maybe you aren’t equipped yet to tackle a certain story. Yes, maybe you will write something you will think about differently in a few months or years. But if you didn’t know what you were focusing the first time around, you cannot shift the focus anywhere else. If your characters only ever existed in your head, they will never get the chance to grow into fully fledged fictional people. You have to let them take baby steps on the page. So keep writing, keep writing messily, keep writing with all the care in the world, but don't stop.

[charcharcrap]

“it’s all good baby”

[banqdanfnfic]

which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

© banqdanfnfic 2021, all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Writeblr Introduction (even though I’ve been here for 6 years oops)

Hi folks! I’ve been posting writeblr content to this blog for over 6 years, but haven’t done a formal introduction since my very first post! So here we go!

(Image description: a photo of a pale blue to orange sunset above a field of green plants and trees that line an embankment. Written on the sky in a green serif font reads “rachel’s writeblr intro” /end ID)

About Me

I am a 19-year-old (nearly 20 oml) writer from Toronto!

I started this blog, Coffee and Calligraphy, when I was 13, and have posted ever since!

I love: green tea, true crime, highlight bloom (lol)

I am also: an artist, a guitarist, a graphic designer, a photographer, and a YouTuber (I make writing vlogs, craft vids, book cover design speedpaints, and more)!

My writing background

I’ve been writing for 7 years. I started writing YA dystopian but now primarily write adult literary fiction (though I do have a few genre WIPs in the works). I also write and publish poetry.

I’ve written 10 books and am at work on the eleventh (and twelfth, and thirteenth, oops)!

I will be entering my third year as a creative writing undergrad at a Canadian university in the fall.

My writing has been published in magazines across Canada such as Minola Review, Grain Magazine, The Malahat Review, Augur Magazine, carte blanche, filling Station (forthcoming) and elsewhere!

My WIPs

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Feeding Habits

(Image description: a photo of 8 sheep in a field positioned toward a tree line with the text “Feeding Habits” written in an all-caps cream serif font on top /end ID)

Feeding Habits is my eleventh novel, and the second book of the Moth Work series, which is a spinoff of my six-book series, Fostered.

Genre: Adult literary fiction/contemporary/romance/LGBTQ+

POV: Third person, present tense.

Status: Currently drafting

Logline: Lonan, stuck in a toxic relationship, and Harrison, disappointed by his New York City restart, find themselves on separate trajectories toward inevitable isolation until Lonan finds purpose in helping out an old friend, and Harrison realizes his dull reboot could be revitalized if he seeks out what—or who—is missing.

You can read more about it HERE, where all the writing updates are linked.

Seventh Virtue

(Image description: a photo of two ravens in profile, each facing the other with the text “Seventh Virtue” written in a navy blue all-caps serif font on top /end ID)

Seventh Virtue is my thirteenth novel (if I do finish it!) and an alternate-reality spinoff of the Fostered series. So, the same characters, but in a different world!

Genre: Adult urban fantasy

POV: Third person, present tense.

Status: Currently drafting

Logline: After being tormented by nightmares of his ex-lover Lonan, Harrison seeks a magical intervention from old friend, Reeve. When she reveals she and Lonan are members of the Seventh Roost, one of seven magical families that coincide with the 7 Virtues and 7 Capital Sins, she also unveils another secret: Lonan is part Virtue, the immortal bird that represents each house, and her family is holding him captive in hopes of extrapolating his power. Harrison must choose to continue life as he knows it or rekindle relationships he thought he’d left behind to save someone he once loved.

She is Also Dead

(Image description: a photo of a woman in a pool floating face-up with the text “She is Also Dead” written in a white all-caps serif font on top /end ID)

She is Also Dead is my twelfth book and my first short story collection.

Genre: Adult literary fiction, short fiction

Status: Currently drafting, 14 stories

Logline: In SHE IS ALSO DEAD, a small town turns murderous when their local invasive species, the Janices, begin dying. A child struggles to understand her mother’s suicide. A mother acknowledges her daughter’s homicidal tendencies after her backyard chickens mysteriously die, and a murderous brother and sister upkeep their yearly tradition of abducting a young girl. These stories follow characters who navigate death, violent impulses, womanhood, and loss, both self-imposed and otherwise.

If you’d like to keep updated on my short stories, I tag all relevant posts HERE.

That’s it for me! Welcome if you’re new here, and hello again if you’ve been here for a while! Look out for new content soon.

--Rachel

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Hi! Welcome to my Masterlist! I write OC fanfiction, so if that is not your thing please turn back. I do have to put a disclaimer here and say that there is no guarantee that any of the fics here will actually be finished. I am distracted by many WIPs. But below the cut I have DCEU, The Maze Runner, Teen Wolf, and MCU fanfiction! So enjoy if you would like to!

The Power of Suffering

Summary:  Gally was one of the toughest and one of the strongest fighters the Right Arm had ever seen. He took no shit, lead with an iron fist, and had a wit like a whip. But combat medic Joan got to him in a way he couldn’t really describe. She was kind to the point of stupidity, honest, and always saw the best in people. She broke down his walls and forced him to face the vulnerable part of himself he wanted to bury. But what happens when these two opposites are forced to face their feelings for each other instead?

OFC: Joan

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | NINE

Status: In Progress

Darkness and Light

Summary: Sloane is a local Gotham artist asked to paint a portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne. During this process she meets their son Bruce, a recluse who has seemingly forgotten how to interact with the world. Over the course of several months, Sloane brings out a different side to Bruce Wayne, while also somehow continuously running into The Batman. But will she eventually connect the dots?

OFC: Sloane Di Marzio

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | ?

Status: In Progress

Of Mermaids, Werewolves, and Men

Summary: Maggie Whittemore never wanted to become a werewolf, let alone a mermaid. But there she was, a junior in high school, a cross country runner, film buff, and a long thought lost healer ally of the local werewolf pack lead by one of her best friends. After her twin brother is brought back from the dead and her first boyfriend Matt is killed, she tries to escape to some normalcy in London over the summer. But she comes back from that trip with new found feelings for her best friend Stiles.

OFC: Maggie Whittemore

ONE

Status: Finished?

If I Go, I’m Goin’ Crazy 

Summary: There was a reason Amanda Waller always seemed to be three steps ahead of everybody. Only no one would have guessed that she had an actual psychic at her side at all times. But when this psychic sees the death of one Colonel Rick Flag, who is so kind to her, she can’t help but warn him of his impending doom on missions - again, and again, and again. 

OFC: Delphia Holman

masterlist babey

Status: Finished?

Youthfully Felt (Gaius Chau - Into the Badlands)

Summary: Song Page has lived at White Bone manor her entire life, being trained by her Healer mother and Clipper father for something they never told her about. But the mundanity of her life is turned on its head when Gaius Chau, the Baron’s son, walks into the infirmary when her mother is away. 

OFC: Song Page

ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

Status: On Hiatus

Someone In Brooklyn Misses You

Summary: There are some people who are meant to be together in this world, some people who are meant to drift apart, and some people who are never destined to meet. Rose Rigby and Bucky Barnes are all three of these things at once. Two people who were meant to be together from the beginning, meant to be separated by lifetimes, and that, once separated, should never have come back together again. 

OFC: Rose Rigby

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | NINE | TEN

Status: On Hiatus

Grow Old With You

Summary: There was once more of this fic, and this is all that remains. So take this as a: What if Din settled down on a farm and had a baby with a fellow Mandalorian who has been with him since the beginning? 

OFC: Ara Obagh

Reykha’s Birth

Status: finished

Normal Love and Superheroes (John Blake - The Dark Knight) ABANDONED WORK

Summary: Leena Duckett has had a hard year after being cheated on by high-school sweetheart Jacob Grayson. She's working two jobs, living in a studio apartment with long-time friend Jamie, her art career has yet to take off, and she hasn't been on a date in a very....Very long time. But things take a turn when she meets friendly officer John Blake and billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. Just when it looks like Leena is finally getting turned around, Jacob comes back into town with the intent of getting her back. The only question is: Who will she choose? The officer or the boy she's familiar with?

OFC: Leena Duckett

the orange streak of lightning | my city | superdawgs | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 

Status: Abandoned

The Second Hand Ticks (Arthur - Inception)

Summary: Sarai Jourdain and Arthur Darling are longing to retire to the French countryside. However, in order to do so, they need to finish this one last job with mutual friend and colleague Dom Cobb. The job turns out to be more difficult than they thought, and something neither of them ever expected was their mutual ex, Warren Eames, to come back into their lives. 

OFC: Sarai Jourdain

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX

Status: On Hiatus

Your Power Over Me (Frank Shaver - Project Power) ABANDONED WORK

Summary: Frank Shaver has more reasons than loving New Orleans to want Power out of his city. 

OFC: Michelle Shaver

beginning | motivation | power | home

Status: Abandoned

[writingquestionsanswered]

Tips: How to Start Your Author Journey

Anonymous asked: My dream is to be become an author. but i dont know how to start... Can you help?

The moment you realize you want to be an author can be both exciting and daunting.Here are some tips and general information to help you begin your journey.

Things to Know

1. There’s Not Just One Path

There are many different paths to being an author. First, you may choose to pursue traditional publishing or self-publishing, or you may do a little of both. Even within those paths, there are alternate routes. You’ll learn about potential paths as you go, and odds are you’ll try a few different paths before finding one you know you want to stay on. Even once you’ve chosen your path, you never know when an unexpected path will open up.

2. Be Patient and Be Strong

This isn’t going to be a fast or easy journey. Most authors write, revise, and query for years before they are published. Even if you choose to self-publish instead of pursuing traditional publishing, it takes a lot of time and effort to make sure your first book is publishing quality.

3. Don’t Compare Yourself to Others

One of the best things you can do for yourself on this journey is avoid comparing yourself to others. Not only is the path to publication different for every writer, what happens along the way can be different for everyone. It doesn’t make anyone better or worse, or make one way better than the other, so never feel like what you’re doing isn’t right because it went differently for someone else. Follow the path that’s right for you the best way you’re able to follow it.

Things to Do

1. Read. Read, Read, Read

I cannot stress this enough. The number one best thing you can do if you want to be an author is read and read a lot. Read books in the genre/s you want to write in. Read books in other genres. Read adult books. Read YA books. Read middle grade books. Read classics. Read books that are super popular. Read books that draw a lot of criticism. Read banned books. Read short stories. Read fan-fiction. Read poetry. Read screenplays. Read graphic novels. Read comic books. Read essays in magazines and online journals.Read newspaper articles. Read EVERYTHING.

2. Consume Stories in Other Ways

Reading is super important, but so is consuming stories in all their other formats. Watch movies. Watch TV shows. Watch plays and musicals. Listen to story podcasts like This American Life, Serial, RadioLab and Snap Judgment. Ask your family members and friends to tell you stories about things that happened to them. As older family members to talk about their childhood memories and what it was like growing up in a long past era. Read non-fiction books about people and events that interest you. Watch documentaries. People watch. Listen to music. Pay attention to your dreams and keep a dream journal. Ask people to tell you dreams they’ve had.

3. Start a Writer’s Notebook

Find a notebook you like (or decorate a plain one) and turn it into your writer’s notebook. Use this notebook to jot down everything that tickles your writer brain. Interesting words, potential character names, interesting settings, plot and character ideas, snippets of dialogue, potential story titles, inspiring quotes, helpful advice... anything!

4. Start Learning Your Craft

There are all sorts of “rules,” ideas, and universal truths about writing, how to do it well, and what readers like and don’t like. A lot of it is opinion-based, some of it is tried and true. It’s super important to learn as much as you can. There are lots of excellent writing craft books you can read. You can find these on Amazon or at your local library. There are also lots of great web sites, blogs, and vlogs that offer excellent writing advice. Learn everything you can and put it into practice by writing.

5. Write. Write, Write, Write

One of the most unhelpful myths among new writers is that the first thing you write will be the thing you publish. This is because you often hear that someone’s debut novel was “the first book they ever wrote,” but that is almost never actually true. It may be the first complete, fully revised, properly critiqued and queried book they ever wrote, but there will most certainly be a long trail of half-finished books, short stories, essays, fan-fiction, stories written for school, and maybe even professional writing leading up to that book. No one sits down and writes something for the very first time, hands it off to the publisher, and has a successful book on their hands. That’s just not how it happens. So WRITE!!! Write a lot. Write short stories. Write fan-fiction. Write novelettes. Write novellas. Write half-finished novels. Write finished novels. Do NaNoWriMo. Do Camp NaNoWriMo. Do writing prompts. Journal. Just. Write.

6. Start Building Your Author Platform

Your author platform is essentially your online presence, your real world presence, and your fan base. Mission critical: a social media presence. Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter are the big ones. Tumblr is great for writers. Many aspiring authors have vlogs on YouTube. Blogs are also great, and many (like WordPress) allow you to make an actual web site to go with it. Create your pages, start engaging with the community. Share pretty graphics with neat quotes or tips. Share a little bit about your writing journey. Look at the social media of other aspiring authors to get ideas for the kinds of things you should be posting. When you feel ready, you might even choose to share snippets of your writing or short stories you write just to share with your fans. When you start working on a WIP that you intend to publish, you can pump up your fans by posting snippets, quotes, and aethetics.

7. Start Researching the Industry

Learn about the traditional publishing industry. Learn about indie publishing (aka self-publishing.) Find out how it all works. My post To Self-Publish or Traditionally Publish? will give you a little overview of both.

8. Begin Writing “The Book”

Eventually you’ll have a book idea and you’ll know this is the book you want to publish. So, get it written. Don’t rush it. Improve each draft. Get feedback from an alpha reader, critique partner, and beta readers. Make it the best you can make it. Polish it up. 

9. Research the Specifics

You’ll actually do this while you’re working on your book, probably, This is once you’ve decided which path you’re going to take: traditional or indie. Now you need to figure out how to get your book, once it’s all polished up, through the next stage. For traditional publishing, that’s going to mean finding agents to query, writing your query letters, and actually querying them. For indie publishing, that’s going to mean finding an editor, finding a book cover artist (or buying a pre-made cover), finding a formatter, and looking at different publishing platforms like Amazon’s KDP, IngramSpark, Smashwords, etc., and learning about their process and requirements.

10. The Home Stretch

Whether you find an agent to help you traditionally publish, or you find a platform where you can self-publish, you’ll be provided with specific guidance from here on out. Your agent will walk you through anything else you need to do, and platforms like Amazon’s KDP will have guides that tell you how to actually upload your book, as well as information about what you need to have ready to go.

————————————————————————————————- Have a question? My inbox is always open, but please make sure to check my FAQ and post master lists first to make sure I haven’t already answered a similar question. :)

[carmypen]

I was tagged...fanwork 2020 review

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Tagged by: @meshimoon

tagging: @dualumina @azhdarcho And whoever else would enjoy doing this.

Work #1: Memories of the Necklace She Once Wore

I wrote this in April 2020 when I was trying (and failing) to write a drabble every day for a month. This was the first Zexal fic I had published in six years, and I’m still quite proud of it. I love me some post-canon Vector angst, and I think it would be fun to explore that through him interacting with Yuma’s parents.

More under the cut....

Work # 2: Kaiba Corp. CEO appears at local high school graduation. You won’t believe what happened next!

I wrote this because of the scene from Duel Links where Tea/Anzu asks Kaiba if he’s going to go to graduation. I love the idea of Kaiba still being beholden to normal high school things, despite him being the farthest from normal a person can ever possibly be. This was also fun to write because I have a background in journalism. So this let me stretch writing muscles I hadn’t used in a while.

Work #3: Scars; Healing

My Zexal month thing. Writing this was a fun learning experience. I started writing this because I found one of my old notebooks from 2013-2014, which was filled with old Zexal fic. There was a snippet from one of the old fics that I really liked, so I recycled it into a totally new fic. This shows why it’s important to keep all your old WIPs around, even if you never finish them. You never know what you might end up using in the future.

Also: more post-canon Vector angst. I’m honestly surprised I haven’t written more Vector stuff through all of this.

Work #4: A Severed Bond? Enter Duel Links!

This one had a difficult birth. It’s 3,000 words long, and it took me 3 months to write. But I’m really proud of it. It was fun to write all the scenes with Yuma and his family, as well as the scenes between Yuma and Astral. I’m really proud of the characterization, too, and I’ve gotten a lot of compliments about it.

My favorite part of the whole thing is the scene where grandma talks about her girlhood crush on Kaiba. I will go down with this dumb crackship nobody asked for. 

Honorable Mentions (AKA WIPs I love, but have not finished)

WIP #1: Shark and the Barian Emperors go Grocery Shopping.

I love this WIP so much. I’ve fallen off it for now but I really hope I come back to it because it makes me so happy. What was especially cool about this one was I attempted to write it in screenplay format. That was a really neat and interesting challenge, and I got to learn about writing in a way I never have before. There’s also a bit of a power flex to it. It’s one thing to write fanficiton, but it’s another thing to just sit up one day and go “You know what? I’m going to write my OWN episodes of Yugioh.” I really hope I feel inspired to pick this story up again once I get to Zexal II in my rewatch.

WIP #2: The Rivalshipping Thing

I don’t know where the hell this came from.

I have never had any interest in this ship at all. I’ve never read any fic for it. I don’t look for fanart for it. I didn’t even know it had a NAME until DSOD came out. The only reason I even started writing it was because I got this idea for a post-DSOD story where Kaiba tells Yugi he got to duel Atem. And then somehow it just got completely out of hand and now I’m like 5,000+ words deep into it? It’s somehow a Zexal crossover and it has a plot? Why? How? Who knows?! 

Admittedly, the progress on it has been slow, since I’ve made the transition from working digitally to working in person again, so I’m more tired when I get home. I’m kind of hoping that if I stick with it I might try to do a marathon writing session for Camp NaNoWriMo, but we’ll see how it goes...

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2019 Day 14: Fake Dating

Broken Halos | @jimminovak Rating: Explicit Word Count: 18123 Main Tags and Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Case Fic, Fake Dating, Fallen!Cas, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing, Hurt/Comfort Summary: Cas lost his grace. Well, most of it. He’s almost entirely human and not sure if he will ever get his grace back. Dean wants him to know that as a human, they care about him just as much. And since Dean isn’t that good with words, working a case in a luxurious, romantic resort might just be the thing they need. If only he could remember that the romantic relationship is just for show.

Cuffed to an Angel | @mattzerella-sticks Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 72529 Main Tags and Warnings: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Professor Dean Winchester, Writer Dean Winchester, Detective Castiel, Mutual Pining, Homophobic Language, Idiots in Love Summary: Dean Winchester has a lot going for him: he's beloved by his students, he's finished writing his first book, and he's living comfortably in New York City. The only problem is... he's single. That wouldn't bother him much if his family wouldn't be visiting for the holidays. With cuffing season over, Dean has to face his family alone... or will he? Castiel DiAngelo is a simple detective who hasn't really celebrated Christmas in over 9 years, holidays and family being a sore spot for him. But after taking Dean up on an offer, he finds that you can't really avoid the holidays. Will these two be able to pull off a seminal holiday trope? Or will certain developments get in the way...

a dangerous thing | @reallyelegantsharkfish Rating: Explicit Word Count: 46489 Main Tags and Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Sex Worker Dean, Camboy Dean, Alpha Castiel, Omega Dean, Sharing a Bed, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism , Fake/Pretend Relationship, Rape Aftermath, Knotting, Mating Bites Summary: Dean spends all his time being desired by others -- makes his living that way -- but being lusted after isn’t the same thing as being wanted, and he’s never felt wanted. Which is why he ends up answering an email that starts with “Dear sir, I hope this letter doesn’t offend you…” and ends with “You will be compensated generously for your time. Sincerely, Castiel Novak.” The email says Castiel is looking for “the boyfriend experience,” as they call it in Dean’s profession. He wants a live-in, someone to hold him at night, someone to make him dinner and greet him after a long day of work with a smile, someone to play pretend with.

Ready To Fall | @lemonsorbae Rating: Mature Word Count: 25272 Main Tags and Warnings: College!AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Smut, First Time, First Kiss, Miscommunication, Loss of Virginity, Bottom Dean, Virgin Castiel Summary: When Castiel’s plans for the summer get cancelled and he’s left with nowhere else to go, Dean invites him to go home with him. It seems an easy solution to cure Castiel’s summer blues, but when they arrive at the Winchester household, Dean realizes due to a slight miscommunication with his mom he and Castiel will have to spend the summer sharing a bed and holding hands because the entire Winchester family thinks they’re dating. And really it shouldn’t be that big of a deal because Dean Winchester isn’t actually in love with his best friend; except for that he is.

The Christmas Case | @deans-jiggly-pudding Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5924 Main Tags and Warnings: Fake/pretend relationship, frottage, public hand jobs Summary: Castiel finds a case in the middle of decorating for Christmas. What begins as a simple hunt turns into a pretend relationship that takes a dangerous turn. Dean is excited for the chance to hold hands and do "couple things" with Cas, but can they play the part well enough to catch the monster's attention?

Consider This: Peanuts | @cr-noble-writes Rating: No Rating Word Count: 2899 Main Tags and Warnings: fluff, mentions of biphobia, fake dating Summary: Dean isn’t sure why he RSVP’d to his dad’s wedding with a plus one, but only a week before the big day, he still doesn’t have a date. So he decides to do the next best thing. He asks his best friend to go with him and pretend to be his boyfriend.

Roll With It | @saltnhalo Rating: Explicit Word Count: 72818 Main Tags and Warnings: Fake relationship, boss/employee relationship, Proposal fusion, Russian Castiel, slow burn Summary: For two years, Dean’s been slaving away beneath his boss – many label him a secretary, but he fucking hates that and feels like it only applies to someone wearing a pencil skirt, so he insists on his title of Executive Assistant. And for what? In the vain hope that one day he’ll manage to become an editor for Sandover Publishing, and that he’ll see the manuscript that he’s slaved over since college finally realized in print. That’s the dream, anyway. Right now, he’s fucking late. Dean wants to be an editor. Castiel just wants to stay in the country. ‘The Proposal’ – as you’ve never seen it before.

Rule Number One | @caswouldratherbehere Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9108 Main Tags and Warnings: AU, fake dating, roommates, mutual pining, explicit sex, top!Castiel, bottom!Dean, implied switching, deepthroating, dirty talk, coming untouched Summary: Dean has a problem. His mom's fiance wants to hook him up, but Dean's not even a little interested. If he goes to their engagement party alone, he'll be pressured all night long. When his roommate offers to go as his fake-date, it should be an easy solution. What could go wrong? Only Dean's been lusting after the man for months and, even if the guy does happen to be attracted to men (the jury is still out on that one), there's one thing Dean knows for certain: you don't date your roommate. No matter how perfect they are.

Peak Homosexual | @thebloggerbloggerfun Rating: General Word Count: 3791 Main Tags and Warnings: Roommates, Homophobic Language Summary: You know that thing that happens where you hear something really homophobic in public so you gay it up as much as you can? This is that story.

Cutest Couple in the FBI | @supernatural9917fic Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5096 Main Tags and Warnings: Case Fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Sharing a Bed Summary: Cas and Dean are working a case in a hippie commune, and for some reason, everybody thinks they're together. They decide to go with it when one of the hippies tells them it will make people more cooperative. This may cause complications.

Healing Hearts | @supernatural9917fic Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4928 Main Tags and Warnings: Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, It's For a Case, Jealous Dean Winchester, Fluff Summary: Sam and Castiel make plans to go undercover as a married couple at the Healing Hearts retreat for gay couples, where something has been attacking the guests. Dean goes along for back-up, but in a moment of madness, insists on taking Sam's place as Castiel's husband. Can he survive couples' therapy, intimate touch classes, a vengeful spirit, and scariest of all, a room with only one bed, without betraying his secret feelings for Cas?

Welcome All Winchesters | @almaasi Rating: Explicit Word Count: 60237 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - Human, Domestic Fluff, Christmas, Snowed In, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Mistaken For A Couple, Friends to Lovers, Bi-Curious Dean, Bottom Dean, Dean in Panties, Snarky Castiel, Artist Castiel, Chef Castiel, Teacher Castiel, Virgin Castiel, Dominant Castiel, Agender Castiel, Road Trips, Snow Fights, Castiel Wearing Dean’s Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Consensual Somnophilia, Spanking, Biting, Marking, Edging, Rimming, Comeplay, Aftercare, Car Sex, Communication Failure, Marriage Proposal Summary: When Dean’s engagement breaks off three days before Christmas, he’s left with nobody to accompany him on a road trip to his family’s mountain log cabin. His best friend Castiel happens to be available, and is willing to help him through a tough time. But when Dean's mother and brother arrive, expecting to meet the person Dean plans to marry, they understandably assume Castiel is Dean's fiancé. After a weekend of comfortable domesticity, sharing clothes, intimate conversations, and definitely-one-time-only therapy sex, it feels almost too easy for Dean and Cas to fake a loving, romantic relationship. The hard part is going back to being friends afterwards. They can’t keep their hands off each other, and they’ve discovered some fun things to do together which they’d never tell another soul about. And, oh boy, feelings. Now being ‘just friends’ is so impossible, it seems as if fate had another plan for them all along...

A Study in Fake | @sternchencas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4933 Main Tags and Warnings: mutual pining, bed sharing, fluff Summary: Although Dean has a job, he's always looking for some extra money, so he's bummed out when he can't take part in a lucrative couples study at the local college. At least until Castiel Novak steps into his life out of nowhere and a throwaway joke turns into a serious relationship. Well, a fake one, but nobody needs to know that, right?

The Power of Wishing (WIP) | @60r3d0m Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6197 Main Tags and Warnings: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Temporary Amnesia, Humour, Case Fic., Happy Ending Summary: “Dean, please, you are embarrassing me.” Cas’ voice comes out stiff and awkward. Dean crosses his arms. “I’m…embarrassing…you?” Dean repeats. “Yes.” “I thought I was your fucking trophy husband, Cas.”

[holdthosebees]

La Belle Dame

Rating: T Pairing: John/Martin, pre-slashish. Background Melanie/Georgie. Summary: No powers, drag queen AU. In which John’s ex-girlfriend drags him to a charity show, and he has an awkward encounter with one of the queens.

A/N: A procrastination oneshot that I wrote while not working on any of my many, many WIPs. Shoutout to @jinxedlucky, who helped me workshop this idea and then told me not to work on it until I finish something else, and who was right. Also--Martin’s drag name, and the title, both come from the Keats poem La Belle Dame Sans Merci. 

The drag queen on stage had glitter in her beard and the most impressive biceps John had ever seen. The red sequins on her skintight dress shimmered as she walked up and down the edge of the crowd, mic cord trailing behind her, as she reached out to regulars, all winks. Georgie tapped John’s shoulder; he had to lean in to hear her, her hair brushing against his ear.

“That’s Sasha’s friend,” she said. “Tim. The one I was telling you about.” 

John nodded. He’d been struggling to keep track of all of people in Georgie’s new social circle, her girlfriend’s friends and their friends who were all supposed to be his friends by some sort of mathematical transference. The drag queen on stage tapped the mic, and grinned. Her lips were very red. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, monsters, everyone else,” she said, pitching her voice low. “Welcome... to Eastbenders!” 

There were a few half-hearted cheers. 

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that. Anyway, for the virgins in the audience, all our queens are local and all our proceeds will go to providing shelter and services to trans youth.” Another pause for cheers, more enthusiastic this time. “If you have any questions, ask comrade Sasha over there in the booth. Wave to the people, Sasha!”

John had met Sasha a few times over drinks. She seemed a very sensible person, unlike Georgie’s new girlfriend Melanie, who hated him on sight. He resolved to go and find her after the event, and maybe donate a bit. That was why he was here, after all; the charity.

“And the rest of you old slags, go say hello anyway. I promise you she’s very friendly.” The queen punctuated her sentence with a slow roll of her hips and a leer. John scowled down at his ginger ale, and ignored Georgie’s knowing look. She wasn’t going to tell him to lighten up, because she knew that he’d just roll his eyes in response, and she didn’t need to, because he knews she was thinking it. 

It was just that this, the lewd jokes for the sake of lewd jokes, the self-conscious decadence, it was very much not John’s scene. He didn’t have anything against it, exactly; he just found it childish, and strange, and there was something profoundly alienating about it besides. If it were up to him he’d be at home, reading, or putting a few more hours in on the project he was supposed to have in by Monday, somehow, although Elias clearly didn’t understand how long database work actually took.

But it was for charity, Georgie had said, and it had been ages since he’d been out and around, and he wasn’t going to meet anyone new if he just sat around moping. To which he had responded that he didn't feel the need to meet anyone new, and she’d looked at him with her eyes so knowingly sad, tinged with an insufferable pity. And so here he was, crammed into an uncomfortable booth in a dim bar, watching a man in a dress with a wig as tall as his head and heels you could punch through metal sheeting with croon into a cheap microphone.

“I am your host for the evening, Kinky Spice--” someone in the back booed. The queen sighed exaggeratedly. “Fine, you caught me. I’m your host, Kim Morningwoodburn--” More booing, and scattered laughter. “Tough crowd! I’ll deal with you later, you naughty audience members you. I am, cross my heart, your host, Diana Explosion, and I’m here to ask you to welcome in our first performer, the bizarre, the incomparable Honey Wilde!” 

The lights dimmed, and turned blue. The crowd applauded as flog began to slip in from the corner of the stage, creeping across the floor. The music started, something slow and electronic. John was intrigued despite himself. 

Honey Wilde slunk slowly out of the shadows. Her shoulders were hunched, and she moved with a slow lurch. Her straight black wig hung in front of her face, like a creature from a Japanese horror movie. The lights flickered out. 

When they turned back on, she was standing at the edge of the stage, arms spread wide. She was tall, even without the heels; with them, she towered. Her hair was back, revealing a beautifully painted face; even John, who didn’t see the point of this sort of thing, had to admire the artistry. She was wearing a black gown of some sort of matte material, and black opera gloves. And on them, marching up her arms and around the curve of her bodice, curled around her throat--spiders. Huge, plastic spiders. And in her right hand, which she stretched out to the audience, slowly walking across her palm--

“Don’t worry,” she said, in a husky stage whisper. She stroked the back of the tarantula with one finger. “She won’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.” She snapped her teeth, and then smiled, looking suddenly self-conscious. Diana Explosion wolf-whistled. John shuddered. He looked around, plotting an escape route. When he looked back at the stage, Honey’s eyes were on him. 

“If one of you could please do me a favor,” she said. “Tell the silver fox in the back row that I bite, too.” 

John’s face burned. Georgie jostled him with her shoulder. 

“He’s twenty-five,” she yelled back. The crowd laughed. Honey Wild ducked her head, and when she looked back, her smile was crooked. 

“I suppose being with you has aged him prematurely, has it?” she said. Georgie laughed. John didn’t. The tarantula walked slowly along Honey Wilde’s palm.

“Only a joke,” she said. “Don’t let it... eat at you.” 

Diana Explosion jeered. Honey shrugged. The gesture was strangely sheepish; it didn’t belong to the person in the gown and the dark red lipstick. Then the music shifted abruptly, pitched eerily up, and the performance began.

It seemed to be some sort of performance art, with slow techno interspersed with half-song stanzas of Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale. What that had to do with spiders, John couldn’t say. He stopped paying attention. As the queen lurched and undulated across the stage, John stared down at his drink and thought angry, vague thoughts about pointless, fatuous entertainment and pretentious artists and men who thought that having a cock counted as a political statement. The next number featured a queen in a ridiculous harlequin costume and some kind of calliope remix, and John ignored Georgie’s worried glances and insistent nudges and pulled out his phone. 

When the break came, he slid past her and went out the side for a cigarette. It was a cool night; he stood with his back to the brick wall and looked up a the sliver of orange-grey sky above the buildings. He breathed in, felt nicotine fill his lungs, allowed himself a moment to relax.

The door swung open. The man who emerged was tall and trying not to be. He had unruly brown hair that seemed pressed down on one side, and was wearing a jumper, ripped shorts, and fishnets. There was a grey smudge of hastily removed eyeliner around his eyes.  “Oh,” he said. “Sorry. Hello. Mind if I share the alley for a bit?”

John shrugged. He offered the man his pack of cigarettes--might as well be polite--but was turned down. 

“It’s just--need to get some air, you know? Decompress. I always get a bit jittery after a number. Can barely hold my hands straight, ha.”

“Hm,” John said. 

“I don’t know how Tim does it. Of course, can’t hurt that he’s just like that all the time, I mean. It’s not really work for him, he just puts on a dress and goes out there, does his thing. Stuff really comes natural to him, you know?” 

“I suppose,” John said. 

“Sorry--you’re probably trying to relax, and here I am, talking your ear off.” The man ran his fingers through his hair, making it even more untidy, and looked down. There was a flush creeping up the side of his neck. “I, um. I’ll be out of your hair in a second, I promise. Just, while I’m here, I wanted to apologize.”

John raised an eyebrow. 

“If I crossed some sort of line,” the man went on, as though that explained something. “I mean, it’s what most people are here for, to be honest, someone to flirt with and be mean to them, but you seemed sort of uncomfortable? So. Sorry about that. It’s just, I don’t really do this that often anymore, I’m only here because Tim made me, and for the charity. So I’m out of practice with the back and forth, is all.” 

John squinted at him. The lighting was different; so was his posture, the shape of his face without makeup. But no, he recognized him now. 

“You’re Honey Wilde,” he said. “The one with the tarantula.” 

“Oh! Yes. Sorry. Not right now, I mean, right now I’m Martin. But yeah, that’s me.” Martin gave an awkward little wave. John took a deep drag on his cigarette and let the smoke out slowly. 

“It’s fine,” he said. “Are you sure? You seem sort of...”

“It’s fine,” John said again, more firmly. Martin’s smile was pained. He had dimples, John noticed; they were slightly asymmetrical, the right one deeper than the left. 

“Well that’s--good. I’m glad.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment. Martin kept looking at John, and then away; after a moment, John realized that he was being checked out.  

He considered this. Martin wasn’t bad looking, as far as John could tell. He seemed nice enough. The apology had seemed genuine. And there was a part of John, a vicious, petty corner of his heart, that enjoyed the thought of leaving Georgie in the bar to go home with a virtual stranger. 

“I’m sorry if it’s a step,” Martin said slowly, “but you don’t really seem to be enjoying yourself? Did your girlfriend drag you along, or something?”

“Ex girlfriend,” John said shortly. Martin’s eyes went wide.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, I’m--that makes it worse, doesn’t it. I’m sorry.”

Of course, there were the negatives. Sex with someone he knew well was just as likely to be uncomfortable and awkward as it was pleasurable; with a stranger, the risk was doubled. Martin seemed courteous, but he still might take it personally when John asked him not to touch him, or have weird kinks, or just expect John to be more into it than he could possibly be and come to his own conclusions when John inevitably wasn’t. 

John watched Martin run a broad hand through his hair again, and decided that it wasn’t worth it. 

“It’s--it’s fine,” he said, shrugging. “It was a long time ago. She has a girlfriend now, actually, who’s working behind the bar.” 

“That’s--Oh, you mean Melanie? That’s Melanie’s Georgie?” Martin smiled, more genuinely this time. “Melanie won’t shut up about her. They seem sweet.”

“I don’t know if sweet is the word I would use to describe Melanie King,” John said. “But yes. They do seem to suit each other, don’t they.” 

“Yeah.” There was something wistful in the way Martin said it, and a little sad. They looked at each other. John felt an unpleasant roll of anxiety; this was it, this was the moment when Martin would make a move, and John would say no, and they’d both go back inside feeling uncomfortable and awkward. 

But Martin just pushed off from the wall and looked back at the door and said, strangely tentative, “Well, it was good to meet you. I should get back in. I’m not performing any more, thank god, but I don’t want to miss the second act. I’ll, uh, see you around, yeah?” 

John blinked at him. 

“Right,” he said. Martin flashed him a quick smile, and then opened the door. Through it, John could hear Diana Explosion, calling out, “--your seats, my lovely monsters, let’s get this show back on the road.” Then Martin was gone, the door closed behind him, and John was alone.

He took another deep drag on his cigarette. His phone buzzed, a text from Georgie, asking him where he was. He muted his phone and put it back in his pocket. Not yet. Soon, but not yet. 

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Twitter Social Media

I love following these social media aus on Twitter so I thought I'd share them with you. They are a lot of fun!

I've put them in alphabetical order based on the writers' twitter handles. Under a read more: 

@ 98mcu : 

AU 1 - Insufferable Everyone has secrets, but what if you share them with the one person you absolutely despise.

(WIP) AU 2 - Boy in love when a very shy boy starts a twitter account to ramble about his admiration for the most beautiful creature he has ever seen.

@ etannetsted : 

AU 1 - Enemies to lovers au Isak is pretty sure his whole life is a huge joke. Seriously, what were the odds that Magnus' new crush is the same guy he fell in love with a year ago and who left him with nothing but a broken heart and a green sketchbook?

@ evakslove :

(WIP) AU 1 - Last update Aug 2019  Even is a member of Hei Briskeby and a famous Youtuber who is struggling to separate the internet from reality. Isak is visiting Vidcon with Sana as a favor as she is being dragged along by her brother and Yousef. Isak is the realest thing Even has seen.

@ evamvhns : 

(WIP) AU 1 - Last update Sept 2019 the weekend getaway to chris’ cabin is something everyone looks forward to. but it soon turns into a nightmare when a familiar body lies dead the next day. and things keep getting worse when the group realizes that the murderer is within them.

@ quarterleigh : 

Thread of all their aus

AU 1 Isak is a broke university student who needs money fast. Thankfully his science buddy Sana has an in with a modeling agency

AU 2 Even is retaking his final year at a new school and is determined to graduate this time. Too bad the guy his mom hired to help him finish is the biggest distraction yet.

AU 3 Even is the crown prince of Norway, endlessly privileged and unbelievably unhappy. After a messy breakup, the media turns on him. Isak is a journalist tasked with what he thinks will be the least interesting story of his career- a profile on the prince.

AU 4 Every year, the university grants funding for 1 student project. Even is thrilled when he hears he’s going to be receiving funding for his short film, only for the board to withdraw their offer in favor of a last minute proposal from a biology student.

@ Sandras_SkamAUs : 

Thread of all of their aus

AU 1 AU where they meet in Uni. Isak doesn't think too highly of Even and it shows. And when they have to work on a group project together, Isak would very much like to kill someone... but maybe Even isn't so bad after all?!

AU 2 After weeks of copying, brewing coffee & getting lunch for his colleagues, Isak's time to shine comes in the last week of his internship at a local newspaper. He is allowed to do his 1st interview & write an article on Even Bech Næsheim, a theater director and gay rights activist. Little does Isak know that this man will change his life 4ever.

AU 3 Both Isak & Even decide to spend a semester abroad @ the University of Heidelberg, Germany. While this seems like a life-changing opportunity, both feel kind of lost, lonely and homesick in their new environment. That is, until they meet each other.

AU 4 Even is Norway's most sought-after model; Isak one of the most promising, aspiring models. They meet at a shooting & start an affair that only each of their respective bbfs know about. No one can know - not Even's girlfriend, not the media.

AU 5 Isak is a rich, rebellious guy who would do just about anything to piss his dad off. Even & his family on the other hand are barely scraping by; but he's a literal sunshine. Their paths collide when Isak tries to piss his dad off on his wedding.

AU 6 Isak moves to Trondheim to start his BA in Biology at NTNU. There he immediately is mesmerized by his local barista Even. However, Even holds back due to his disability. Inspired by the wonderful art of Elli (elli_skam on Instagram).

AU 7 Evak have been going strong for almost 3 years now. They are the picture-perfect dream couple that everybody envies just a little. However, Isak has a secret, he doesn't feel comfortable to share with anyone. Not even Even. Especially  not Even.

(WIP) AU 8 - Includes Skam France They've been best friends forever, four guys growing inseparable over the years. When two of them start dating, universes collide. Will they really make the right choices? And what will that mean for their friendships?

@ skamruinedme : 

Thread of all their aus

AU 1 Attending Sana's brother wedding turns into a nightmare when Isak gets stuck in the elevator for hours. But he is not alone, and he can't decide whether that is a good or a bad thing. And then the guy keeps popping up in his life for some reason.

AU 2 They are neighbours who hate each other with a burning passion. Despite this, neither of them can deny that the other is hot af. So they make an arrangement, and then other arrangements. The problem? none of them seem to work.

AU 3 Isak and Even are childhood best friends. Even is straight and in a committed and loving relationship with Sonja. Isak is hopefully in love with him and silently pinning. But what happens when Isak gets a boyfriend?

AU 4 When Isak said he'd have to move to Trondheim for uni, both he and Even decided that it's for the best if they part ways. Flashworward 5 years later Isak gets a job offer in Oslo and has to go back and face old friends and old love.

AU 5 Texting your number neighbour is a growing twitter trend that the boys from the famous YouTube channel Hei Briskeby need to try out too. Even is not very fond of the idea at first, but he gives in eventuality because what could possibly go wrong?

(WIP) AU 6 - a Nooreva au Nissen days are over, and they should celebrate, but they can't. Eva and Noora are both heartbroken, tired, and in a desperate need for change. The natural solution? Take a gap year to travel through Europe.

AU 7 Isak and Even are engaged and everything is perfect until it isn't. Isak goes missing without a trace. Can he be found before it's too late? And most importantly, who is guilty for his disappearance?

AU 8 Isak and Even are friends and it's all good, except for one small problem. Even has a crush, but Isak won't look at him that way. The solution? Make a finsta too woo him, in true desperate Even fashion.

AU 9 Isak? Busy student drowning in work. Hates Christmas. Known as cold and heartless. Even? Artist and charming barista every customer is in love with. Obsessed with Christmas. When they meet, Even swears he'll make Isak change his mind about the holiday. Will he though?

(WIP) AU 10 Isak is a troublemaker who can't wait to be done with high school and live the free-spirited life he's always aimed for. The problem? He might have to repeat his third year because he is failing English, so his only hope is getting a tutor. or badboy!isak and nerd!even

@ skamtext : 

(WIP) AU 1 - New au posted on Jan 7, 2020   Even is new to school and is popular figure online in Oslo and is indie basically all the girls (especially Eva) want to know him. He makes friends with Chris and Sana as well being mutual with Jonas. Isak is a class clown and gets in trouble all the time meaning he’s a known name around school. This interests Even and he wants to know more about isak

@ socialmdiaAU : 

AU 1 - Has background Elu Even sees Isak pining hard during rehearsal for the school play. He sends a text: “Cute guy staring at another guy like he’s in love....I hope this plays out like a Luhrmann film.” Nothing, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔, goes the way it’s supposed to.

[quilloftheclouds]

Writeblr Positivity Week!

(Ignore my heckin’ weird handwriting.)

I knooowwww this is super late but Quill got real busy this week with working on schoolwork and Nano so I didn’t have time to finish this up until now but!! Have this!!!

As a part of Writeblr Positivity Week, a lovely event hosted by the wondrous @pens-swords-stuff​, I have put together:

A Selection of Quill’s Favourite WIPs and Writeblrs

(Because there is absolutely No Way I could show all of them, and this is already super long so under the cut we go~)

@lady-redshield-writes​: Not only a wonderfully supportive icon of the writeblr community, who always leaves marvelously inspiring and insightful comments on original content that gives me and undeniably many others so much more motivation to write, but Lady Red is also such a heckin’ inspirationally SKILLED WRITER. IT’S HECKIN’ AMAZING. Her characters! Her description! The amount of personality in her dialogue and just how engaging her worldbuilding and created atmospheres are, but the EMOTION. THE EMOTION. GOOOO read something of hers and you’ll instantly know what I mean---good luck getting through not completely overwhelmed with feeling!

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep: Humans are the size of insects, warriors ride dragonflies into battle, and an eldritch god-ant rules with absolute power. 

Symphony Number Five: Evka Sekerak, composer and musician, directs the Teplirov Symphony, and is commissioned to write her fifth symphony by the military officials who keep her city captive.

@waterfallwritings​: HECK MATE. JASON. DUDE. WHERE DO I START? YOU’VE BEEN TOSSING COMPLIMENTS MY WAY ALL DAY WHAT. But seriously though, this kid is best. Best Friendo of the Quill. Jason is hugely supportive throughout my writing and throughout my real life since I met him, and his own writing is basically the main inspiration behind why OSS even exists in the first place. We’ve had absolutely so much fun reading through each others’ works and joking around, and talking with him has helped me to discover and develop so many things about my own wip. Not only that but!! His writing is marvelous. His characters are all so fun in their own ways, and I’ve loved watching as they’ve developed to such three dimensional personalities in a story full of epic adventure and intrigue!

A Selkie’s Home: After a storm and a shipwreck, a selkie missing her skin, a triton disguised as a human, a morally questionable sea witch, and a hapless lover of the ocean end up on the same island. When the selkie is kidnapped, the remaining three have to form an unlikely alliance to get her back.

@bookenders​: ENDERS IS A REAL DARN NEAT PERSON OKAY. She is the cool 🌵 friend!! She’s a wondrously creative and kind person, and so much fun to talk to! Her STS asks are always so interesting to answer and I just. And I! Just! Love! Her writing oh my stars it’s the best thing ever. Her characters are always so relatable and lovable, with such wonderful personalities and are always so detailed that they feel like real people. She’s also the creator of several of my favourite characters (see: Fred from H2H and Ryan from FF). Her description is astounding, and the way she experiments with different formats and styles is so, SO inspiring, and she always does it in such a skillful way, that reads so nicely!

Heart to Heart: After a series of half-drownings in the lake near the small town of Lindsay, a strange woman appears on the shore, refusing to speak. The local apothecary is sent in to try and help, and now... they’re roommates?

Fish Food: Now assigned to facing the villains of the lowest threat levels after suffering severe losses from his fight against the supervillain Nightmare, Iron Will has to team up with the worst villain he’s ever seen to fend off the threat of a conspiracy that could destroy their world as they know it.

@abalonetea​: OKAY FIRST. Amazingly supportive. Amazingly friendly and creative and an absolute delight to talk to! Katie is marvelous. Her art and her moodboards are so cool and so wonderfully fitting to her characters and stories. And her writing? Oh. Ohhh. Her writing is to die for. Her unique skill of manipulating different text formatting to match the emotion and thoughts of her narrative is just. Stellar, and sets her writing apart from anything I’ve read before. It’s so full of emotion, the way she writes dynamics is INSPIRATIONAL, and her worldbuilding is so wonderfully detailed and engaging. I just. I just LOVE. OKAY. I don’t normally ship characters but Red and Bolte will always be my favourite. And Katie’s message of hope being able to stick it through the worst of it is such a wonderfully motivational theme!

Groundhog Day: Two versions of the same classic rpg video game, one the gritty reboot of the other, glitch together, switching the games of one of the characters with his counterpart—Red and Blue. Now they have to try and find their ways back amidst the formation of friendship and family and the threat of a new war.

As Time Passes On: Two classic pirates form a precarious alliance to set out to find the Eighth Sea, and a device that can turn back time.

@livvywrites​: I’ve only more recently been getting into Livvy’s works but. Wooooooow. WOW. Her writing is fantabulous. Her graphics are gorgeous. I LOVE her characters, so so much. They’re all so distinct in personality and backstory and situation, and the way they’re all involved in the story is marvelously fascinating. SPEAKING OF THE STORY THO. Livvy’s worldbuilding is???? SO IN DEPTH. It is the most deep worldbuilding for a magic type world I think I’ve yet to see on writeblr? I am sooo very excited to see how she integrates it into the plot! But also Livvy is an absolutely magnificent person all around and so supportive and creative and sooo fun to talk to. Love ya, darling~

The Martyr Queen: Alinora Mynerva is visited by one of Death's Reapers, and told she was never meant to exist. She is asked to become his Champion, to stop Fate from destroying the world. Alinora isn't sure she's willing to fight a god... but she is willing to fight the man who took her homeland from her 10 years ago.

Pirate’s Bane: [Quill legitimately can’t summarize this one in so short a space because it’s so delightfully complex, but it’s a brilliant continuation of the previous book above! Go click the link to read the synopsis on the intro post~]

@mvcreates​: I’M SORRY FOR ALL THESE TAGS DEAR MINA BUT YOU DESERVE THEM. Probably just the most interactive person in the writeblr community, Mina’s events and ask games and onwards all are so wonderful, and her engagement with reblogging and commenting on people’s original content is inspirational. AND I’M SAYING IT FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME BUT THAT DOESN’T DECREASE IT’S MEANING: heckin’ poetic like prose with how much symbolism she fits in there and how lovely it sounds to read aloud, wonderfully clever dialogue and banter and characterization, and characters you love to root for. And her ART. OH MY STARS HER ART. *swoons at majestic colours and shading and textures*

Retrocognition: An investigative journalist with a paranormal gift joins forces with a cantankerous federal agent to expose a Reno-based politician’s (murderous) corruption.

The Vizier’s Apprentice: An alternate universe retelling of a classic Persian love story: One Thousand and One Nights.

@dogwrites​: Venturing into the world of Crime of Mind has only been a very recent endeavour of mine, and I’m only two episodes in at the moment, but gosh golly yarn darn it this story is MARVELOUS. Dog’s ability to write memorable characters with such distinct and identifiable personalities is lovely, their dialogue is wonderful and the body language and description is so heckin’ engaging, and puts you right in the scene with them. And Dog’s also a marvelous artist holy wow. NOT TO MENTION just how awesome Dog is as a person?? Heckin’ ridiculously nice, leaves such insightful and appreciated comments that charge me on. AH. JUST A LOVELY LOVELY THAT I HAD SUCH AN HONOUR OF MEETING. YES.

Crime of Mind:  Dr. Benji Russells, an autistic federal agent, is the youngest member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, whose knack at viewing individuals and their behavioral chemtrails turned her into a viable asset---but delving into the minds of the country's most insidious leaves none unscathed in the end.

@ardawyn​: OH. MASTER OF DESCRIPTION, HERE. All of Sophie’s writing feels like it could have been written in the world of the story itself despite being very clear and lovely to read, with a vaguely medieval vibe to it all that adds so much to the reading experience. The way she describes environments just puts you right into the scene with the characters, characters that are all written marvelously with beautifully lovable personalities and dialogue and dynamics. And her graphics? Oh, ohhhh. Sophie is probably my greatest inspiration for making graphics and aesthetics for writeblr. Every single one of hers are instantly eye-catching and fit the mood and theme sooo well. Plus, the comments she leaves on my content are just the sweetest thing, and always warm my heart when I read them. <3

The Dawnbringer: A niece of Issarien’s king, Tilda fights against the constricting expectations of her role, making it her mission to find her brother after his disappearance. Rajani is given rooms in the castle of the Prince of Hallrein after being caught stealing, offered a perilous deal she has no choice but to accept. But these two women are connected in an unknown way...

Night Crystals: Amaria was raised an assassin at the orphanage The Obsidian to serve the king of Calastari. But after discovering a secret, she must make the choice whether to stay and swallow lies, or seal her death sentence trying to leave.

@radley-writes​: Although I haven’t interacted much yet with Radley, I’ve fallen completely in love with their writing and ideas. Their art is so lovely and professional and clean, and the body language and personality it portrays is marvelous. But their writing? Outrageously good, and brilliantly hilarious. I’ve mainly only been following His Majesty’s Starship so far, but the way that Radley is able to match the vocabulary and narrative to the time period of the story is so skillful and inspiring, and is absolutely wonderfully engaging by placing you right into the setting like it’s real. The integration of worldbuilding is done extraordinarily well and I am in love with all of the distinct personalities and dialogue of their wondrous cast of idiots.

His Majesty’s Starship: The Eurasian powers expand their empires to the furthest-flung reaches of the solar system – as well as their endless wars. As nations and companies vie for control of the Off-World Colonies , a trio of utter imbeciles come into possession of a secret that many would kill for. A secret that changes everything…

Anywayssss there are sooo, so many more wips that I consider favourites of mine, and so many more writeblrs that I think are the absolute bomb, but Quill’s energy isn’t limitless! 

That said, maybe I’ll make up a simpler post of a bunch of recommendations later... hm..........

ANYWAYS YEAH GO CHECK THESE LOVELIES OUT

[yaachtynoboat711]

The Plus One

A/N: Allow me to break once more from Fonder to give you all this Oscar fic mini-series (literally two, maybe three chapters). Here’s all the fluff your hearts can handle before I resume with Chapter 7 and 8.1 I know it’s late, but this is for @sonofnjobu ’s WIP FF. I had wisdom teeth taken out last week so I was out of action. This fic is very descriptive and interactive, so please, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): FLUFF, possibly some errors/typos

Sunday mornings— the days of rest and recreation for you and your fiancée Winston. Lately, the two of you would spend half the day planning the wedding with you all’s planner. Sometimes, you and Winston would maybe get up before 10, no later than 11 to lounge around. Yet, this Sunday morning wasn’t like any other Sunday. No ma’am: this Sunday was filled with the preparation and the attendance of the 91st Academy Awards in Los Angeles! You’d been in LA since the week of your Jimmy Kimmel interview for further wedding planning, final Oscar-related consultations, and just a well-needed breather.

Within the past few months, you’d been working on Maryland’s suit lawsuit against the Trump administration. While in California, you’d met with the lawyers responsible for the state’s lawsuit. You and your partners hit the ground running after Christmas break and basically moved into the firm during the government shutdown and the weeks following. Around this time last year, you were face-first in your cases. You’d be damned if you would once again miss the opportunity to be Winston’s plus one for the awards ceremony due to work.

Your phone’s alarm began sounding off at 9:45 a.m. You decided to turn in the night before while Winston attended Common’s pre-Oscar party. It must’ve been Opposite Day. It would be you going out and Winston stayed in. Usually, you’d be snuggled up in your man’s arms sleeping. Instead, you were on your stomach, head to the side and resting on top of your hands. Dead to the world. You did,however, match Wins’ fly and slept in a new gold megabonnet to match his velvet durag (you’d bought him 10-15 new durags for Valentine’s Day). By the time your eyes reluctantly opened, you noticed that he was gone. Before you could curl your lip and whimper, you picked up your phone to find Wins’ text to start you off for the day.

You sat up on your elbows and smiled at the sight of the two white waffle bathrobes staring at you. The longer robe read “Duke” in crimson stitching, while the other read “Abdullah-Duke” in blue stitching. When you got out of bed, you caressed and carefully observed your robe. Baby boy ain’t skimpin’ on the quality of these robes. Ol’ extra ass. You quickly went into the shower, waterproof speaker in hand. From City Girls to Megan Thee Stallion to Kurt Carr and to Broadway soundtracks, your 25-minute shower performance was one for the books. Once you’d finished showering and doing your Oscars skincare routine, you went back into the bedroom to find Winston stretched out on the bed, his gapped grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Well, good morning, Mama Bear. That was one helluva performance you put on in there.” He looked you up and down like you were the last oxtail, slowly licking his top lip. “I see somebody likes their new robe.”, Winston complimented as he watched you walk towards him. He re-adjusted his stance so you could straddle his lap.

“Good morning to you,too, Daddy Bear. I don’t like it at all—I love it.”, you said in the crook of his neck as you kissed it repeatedly.

“You ready for today?”

You paused, going through the day’s mental Rolodex of events. “Of course—we’ll be together. You’ve been on an Oscars red carpet, I haven’t. Guide me. Show me your ways, Master Duke.”, you said dramatically. Winston’s deep, almost maniacal laughter sounded in your ear. He stared into your light brown eyes and smiled. Kissing your fivehead, he said, “You’re so dramatic. Of course. I’m excited for tonight...like very excited.” He kissed your ring and then your lips. You cheesed like the spoiled princess you knew you were. The two of you continued to cuddle, which eventually led to your lips finding their way onto his. Just as his curious hand ventured underneath your robe, there was a knock on the hotel suite door. Your head fell back in frustration and you reluctantly got out of Winston’s lap and smoothed your robe out as you walked to the door.

Winston whistled. “I hate to see you go, but I love watching you leave.” He tucked his lip under his top row of teeth.

“Shut yo corny ass up...Gabe.” Your face twisted and you placed an emphatic but playful tone on “Gabe” before sticking your tongue out. You looked through the peephole and opened the door for your assistant Jacqui, your wig stylist Maya Elise, and your makeup artist Alicia (your usual glam artist Justin was out of the country. It was time.

Not long after your glam squad arrived, Winston’s team came trickling in. The last-minute decision to get a two-bedroom suite instead of one was paying off. You and Winston broke off into different rooms and began your transformations.

Two hours and a whole Gillette advertisement later, you were reunited with your big head for lunch. When you emerged from the room, you were taken aback to see your fiance sporting an immaculate low fade. His beard was trimmed just right, enough to know it’d been flourishing in its growth. Ahh, my favorite seat looks like a meal for real. He stood feet from you in his white robe, giving you one of those looks.

As if on cue, your twin sister Farrah knocked on the door.

“Li, I’m so sorry. The one time I try to work on something last-minute, I’m almost an hour late. Where’s your room?”, Farrah said as she tried to catch her breath. She was holding your dress in her signature purple garment bag across her arms.

“ Rah! It’s okay, Boop. First off, slow down. Secondly, I’m over here.”, you pointed your fan behind you indicating where to put the dress. You excused yourself and returned to your room.

Farrah was an up and coming size-inclusive fashion designer and most importantly, your fraternal twin sister. You and Farrah were on completely different ends of the same spectrum. Growing up, you were often fighting her bullies on her behalf because she was a pacifist to the core; a terribly sensitive and somewhat reserved Cancer. She graduated from the same high school as you at 16, two years after you did. She graduated with her BFA in Fashion from North Carolina A&T, where she’d met her would-be husband and star Defensive Lineman for the Philadelphia Eagles, Braxton King. Professionally, She went by Issa Jenae, her two middle names. Though she and her family had just moved to Philadelphia from Boston, she spent most of her time in LA and New York. Nearly 85% of your dresses were designed by your sister. So, naturally, she was elated to design your Oscars dress.

Your sister was hanging the garment bag up on the closet door when you got back in. You were anxious to see the dress, as you had no idea what it was going to look like. When she asked you what you had in mind, you replied that you wanted something that was “subtly Wakandan”. With the help of Black Panther’s costume designer and Oscar nominee Ruth E. Carter, Farrah was able to make your wish shake. One of the advantages of having your twin sister design your dresses was that she’d knew you better than any other designer could. Your off-shoulder gown was fittingly inspired by the Jabari tribe with the purple and gold-threaded triangular pattern on the exterior and the gorgeous interior satin royal purple lining. The slit on the right side showed just enough of your thigh tat. Like the other dresses she’d made for you, it was customary for Farrah to hand-sew an insult of some sorts somewhere into the dress. Today’s insult: whore, sewn into the left side of the slit’s opening.

Being that it was one of the many inside jokes you two shared, you searched tirelessly for the insult. When you finally discovered it, you let out the ugliest sound as began laughing. “Bitch, you play too fuckin’ much. Whore? Really?”, you commented as you began unzipping the dress.

“Why not? I wasn’t the one sleepin’ with half of Black Hollywood, now was I?” You stared at her in pure disbelief. That raggedy bitch just airing your dirty laundry out there, but if the roles were reversed, she’d call your umi with the quickness. She was the true Cancer. “Exactly. I rest my case. Now go change, whore.”

You muttered some dirty words and passive aggressive wishes under your breath as you carefully slipped into your dress. Farrah zipped you up and spun you around to get a better look at her masterpiece of a dress. With your wig on and your shoes and accessories still needing to be put on, your transformation was almost complete.

You toyed with the idea of what kind of accessories you’d wear for tonight’s activities. Simplicity won you over for your picks. You wore three necklaces: a choker-like gold bar with “Khalida” written in Arabic, your everyday rose gold “K”, and your gold zodiac pendant. In addition to your 2nd engagement ring, a local Black jeweler allowed you to wear their oversized black fleur-de-lis cocktail ring (it was Mardi Gras season, after all) for the awards ceremony. In an unusual twist, you decided to wear a bracelet. This bracelet wasn’t just any other bracelet—it was a gold bracelet shaped as scissors (a shameless Us plug for your fiancé).To finish the look, you wore your cowrie shell and gold link anklets. You were ready to fuck that carpet up.

Once Maya-Elise finally laid the baby hairs on your half-up half-down Yaki blowout wig, you walked out of the pits of hair hell one last time. For the first time in history, you were ready before Winston. This never happened. Like...ever. Instead of seeing Winston, you were, however, greeted by your bonus family sitting in the living area of the suite.

“My daughter! Has Winston seen you yet?!”, Mama Cora remarked as you twirled for her.

“No, Coco, because for the first time ever, I’m the first one ready. You know this never happens. Wait—he didn’t dip, did he?”, you asked as you tried to peak at his door.

“Of course not! He wouldn’t ditch the most beautiful woman in Hollywood—not in his right mind,at least. I’d actually have to rough him up.”, Cindy joked.

You and Jacqui walked out to the suite’s main balcony take pictures for the ‘Gram. Six Vogue-worthy pictures later, Jacqui uploaded the photo set with “Dark-haired YAAncé” as the caption. You walked back into the suite to see a handsome thick figure with his back towards you. Winston was so wrapped up in his conversation with his barber Red that he didn’t realize that you’d been outside, yet alone beat him getting ready.

“I wonder what Yaa’s wearing tonight. She mentioned something about there being purple somewhere in the equation? I don’t know...I never know with that gyal of mine.”, he chuckled as he shrugged.

Red’s shoulders bounced in laughter. “I mean...why don’t you ask her? She’s right there.” Red looked around his solid physique to acknowledge your presence.

“How am I going to ask her if she’s not rea—”. Winston turned his head in the direction Red had pointed to. Noticing something different, he whipped around once more, this time, turning his whole body around towards you. The two of you stood maybe two feet apart, taking in each other’s ensembles and beauty.

You were in love with his low fade, especially after the Sisqo phase for the New Years Trip (there could be only one platinum blonde in this relationship). Red got him right for tonight. Then there was the tux. THAT. FUCKING. TUX. It didn’t help that he was already thicker than three-day-old oatmeal. His suit was just fitted enough. In true Winston C. Duke fashion, he couldn’t just wear a basic tux. Nope. Hell nawl. The jacket had white piping on the lapel and the pockets, along with two white bands on either arm. The pants had the white stripe going down either side. Surely, the ancestors wanted to see you cut up over your man and how delicious he was looking. As you undressed him with your eyes, you’d caught his little intentional lip bite and lick. It was subtle enough for only you to catch it.

You fanned yourself harder the closer you got up to him. Shit, that nigga was looking delicious. Winston and everyone else laughed at your speechlessness. Your mouth was totally agape and your head shook. You finally pointed your white coffin-shaped nail at Winston and looked around the room to make sure everyone else was seeing the same meal you were looking at.

“Are you gonna say something, K.D.?”, Winston asked as he closed your mouth and lifted your chin in one smooth motion with one finger.

“Baby...sweetheart...honey bunches...Chris baby…answer me this one question...”, you stammered.

“Yes?”

“Who the fuck told you...TO LOOK THIS FUCKIN’ GOOD?! LIKE, WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT AND THE PRIVILEGE?! THE NERVE OF YOU! THE ABSOLUTE UNMITIGATED GALL, THE NEGROSITY OF YOU, ON THIS 24TH DAY OF BLACK HISTORY MONTH AND 20TH ANNIVERSARY OF MY NATIONAL ANTHEM!”,you gassed, punching your hand and pointing your acrylic nails and clacking them against each other every which way for dramatic emphasis.

Winston doubled over in hysterical laughter, to the point of tears, at your response. “Wow, I must say, it does feel good to be on the receiving end of your gassing. I knew I had to come with it if I was going to be your date tonight. If I haven’t learned anything else about you in all these years of knowing you, it’s that no matter where you’re going, you’re gonna bring it. You’ve kinda forced me to step out of my usual tux zone and further into the world of high fashion...all without knowing what your dress looked like. I think I did pretty good, dontcha think?” He finally closed the gap between the two of you and held your small hands into his big hands.You rolled your eyes to keep from laughing. You weren’t going to give into that Gabe Wilson-level corniness.

“Ehhh...you did aight. Ion know who you tryna dress up for, but you cute or whateva.”, you said nonchalantly.

He lowered his voice to where only you could hear, “I must say that you, my dearest Khalida, the love of my life, are looking sublime right now. I don’t even care what you have in store for the after party look, I just know that in this very moment, I’d have you on this table if everyone weren't here.” You smirked.

“You know, I had the same thought about you when were eating lunch. I’m happy our freakiness is in tandem.”, you paused to look around the room, “Now let’s go and flex for the ‘gram, shall we?”

Everyone crowded both elevators to the lobby to get a full glimpse at the soon-to-be Duke’s. The lighting in the hotel’s courtyard was perfect—a studio could never.

“Alrighty...the lighting’s good here, love birds.”, Jacqui reported as she searched for the perfect late afternoon light. The two of you walked to the exact spot Jacqui deemed appropriate. He insisted that you walk before him, just so he could check you out from the back. He gazed in amazement as he noticed the highlight on your shoulders when the sun kissed them. The purple and gold in your dress both complemented your caramel skin. Winston bit his lip as all the thoughts of sin and lust bombarded his mind. God, you outdid yourself when you created her. He finally caught up to you and promptly rested his arm around your full waist, pulling you into him. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes, cameras or people be damned. As Jacqui caught the candid shots, the two of you whispered nasty sweet nothings into each other’s ear. After spending 20 minutes in the courtyard, Jacqui escorted you and Winston to the hotel’s service entrance, where their SUV was waited patiently for you all. As the two of you looked at the SUV, Winston squeezed your hand. “You ready, Dr. Abdullah?”, he asked as he looked down to you.

“When you are, Mr. Duke.”

The two of you shared three deep breaths before loading into the car, eager to show up and out for the Oscars.

I GOT THE TAGLIST IN THE BACK! @muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy-deactivated2 @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @supersizemeplz @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @ljstraightnochaser @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

[distant-rose]

Playing Off Foul (1/2)

Notes: I’ve been working off this idea for awhile. I just needed to get it off my chest. I have so much baseball!Killian crap in my WIP drawer and it needs to see the light of day. A special thank you to @welllpthisishappening​ and @katie-dub​ for being my support system and for encouraging me to write this nonsense. My apologies to fans of the Arizona Diamondbacks and Carmelo Anthony. My shade is nothing personal. Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t know anything about baseball, only that her son Henry is obsessed and works as a ballboy for the New York Yankees. She has no interest in it, that is until her son gets whacked with a foul ball and she comes face-to-face with the player that hit it - Killian Jones. Rating: T+ Word Count: 4,600+

When it came down to it, Emma blamed David.

Though it had been Neal who had introduced Henry to baseball, it had been David’s fault that he became a Yankees fan. Since the moment he learned that Henry was interest in the sport dubbed “America’s Favorite Pastime,” Emma’s brother had taken to bringing her son to every baseball game he could afford and spending the rest of his money on more merchandise than their tiny two bedroom apartment could afford. 

It was David who had told Henry about the ballboy job opening at Yankee Stadium and like a fool, Emma had allowed her teenager to apply. She didn’t think he would get past the application review but two weeks later, Henry had gotten the call in for an interview which was followed by an official job offer and a celebratory dinner at Fazio’s. She wasn’t been sure how was more excited about it - Henry for having an opportunity to meet his heroes and get paid for it or David who now had an inside man on what was really going on in the Yankees’ locker room. Emma had been less enthused about it.

Though the team that spent half of its games on the road, the stadium seemed to have constant need of Henry and it wasn’t uncommon for him to come stumbling back into the apartment at one or two in the morning on a school night. Furthermore, the players had an habit of giving him more money in tips than Henry knew what to do with on top of earning an whopping $21.50 an hour. Emma nearly blew a gasket when she find out one of the players had given her son a thousand dollars to keep quiet about some girls coming into the locker room for a “private tour.” She didn’t want their boorish behaviour and outrageous spending habits rubbing off on her son. She already had Neal to contend with, she didn’t need to add a bunch of immature rich assholes to the mix. However, there were silver linings to Henry working at the ballpark. Being a ballboy required him to be on top of his grades and it kept him out of trouble for the most part. More often than not, his Saturday nights were spent cleaning bases and polishing cleats rather than going to parties. She also no longer had to worry about Henry asking for money to hang out with his friends since he made more than enough to fend for himself. Another added cherry was that nothing pissed off her Diamondbacks loving ex more than knowing their son was working for “the Evil Empire.” Still, Emma didn’t like it.

She especially didn’t like it when she saw “Yankee Stadium” on her caller ID when she was in the middle of a honey-trap operation to catch a guy who had been charged with credit card fraud.

“Hello? Is this Mrs. Swan?” It was a voice she didn’t recognise but he sounded vaguely nervous.

She bristled slightly at bit at the misnomer. “It’s Miss Swan and yes, this is.”

“Right, sorry, Miss Swan, my name is William Smee and I’m a clubhouse assistant manager over at Yankee Stadium. I’m calling in regard to your son-“ “What happened?” Emma cut him off in a clipped tone.

“There was an accident. A foul ball caught him unaware and he was knocked unconscious. An ambulance was called and he’s on his way to Bronx New Lebanon.”

Fear spiked up her spine as he spoke but she tapped it down, immediately going into crisis mode. She couldn’t afford to get hysterical. Henry needed to keep her cool. Before Mr. Smee even finished his last sentence, she had picked up her purse and was shrugging her coat back on.

“How long ago was this?”

“Twenty minutes ago. We wanted to make sure Henry got immediate attention and was looked after before we did anything else. His health is our top priority and rest assured, Miss Swan, the organisation is willing to pay any medical bills or anything-” “I literally do not care,” Emma cut him off again. “Just give me the address.”

“It’s on Tiffany Street, I believe, ma’am.”

Emma got up, so focused on the situation with Henry that she had forgotten all about her “date.” She turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Emma hissed when his grip was a little more forceful than necessary, fingers digging into her skin.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked rudely.

“My son is in the hospital. I need to go.”

“You have a son?”

“Yes. He’s fourteen and was just in an accident at Yankee Stadium. Now, let me go.”

“Look, Emma, I don’t know what your malfunction is but I know a lie when I see one. You’re wearing an old ass dress and false stones after all. How about you sit down and actually give me a chance. I’m a really nice guy with some cash to burn.”

“Listen, dude, let me go and I will forget about this.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do me, sweetheart?”

Emma let out a short humourless laugh. This guy didn’t realize how lenient she was planning on being. When she heard Henry was in the hospital, she had decided that she would let this skip go and focus on her son. Now, she wasn’t going to be so generous. On top of being a massive credit scam artist, he was also an asshole and she wasn’t going to let that fly.

She pulled out her cuffs and attached one to his wrist faster than he could blink. He stared at his wrist dumbfounded while she attached the other end to his seat. When he tried to take off, Emma tripped him. She watched in smug satisfaction as the chair landed on top of him. She placed a heeled foot on top of it to keep him in place as she took out her phone once more and called her brother. He picked up after the second ring.

“Is Henry okay?” He asked immediately, not even bothering with pleasantries.

Emma blinked in surprise. “You know about that already?”

“Yeah. It was just on ESPN.”

“Shit.”

“Where is he? I saw him get pulled off. He okay?”

“I’m heading to Bronx New Lebanon now,” Emma replied, applying more pressure on the man beneath her foot. “I need a big favor though. I need you to pick up a Mr. James Graves from Piccola Cucina.”

“On it.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” The skip growled.

“Hey! You had your chance!” She snapped back. “You should have just let me go and see my son!”

The maitre d’hotel came over with a cautious expression, holding his hands up in front of him as if he was approaching a wild and dangerous animal. Emma flashed him a smile in hopes of defusing some of the tension. He gave a tentative one back.

“Is everything okay here, Miss?” He asked nervously.

“Hi. My name is Emma Swan. I work for Nationalwide Bail Bonds Agency. This gentleman, and I use that term loosely, missed his court date and there’s a warrant out for his arrest. There’s an officer on the way. I needed to leave like twenty minutes ago because my kid is in the hospital. So, no. It’s not okay.”

The maitre d’hotel’s eyes went wide and he glanced between her and the man underneath her boot a few times, looking entirely unsure on how to handle the situation. Emma sympathised. This wasn’t the type of joint that was used to rough clientele and this wasn’t normally the sort of spot that Emma would bring her skips but James Graves had insisted on this spot, probably in an attempt to impress her into sleeping with him.

“I’ll going to talk to someone...I will be right back…”

“I’ll be here,” Emma muttered bitterly, taking out her phone and glancing at the time. She didn’t want to leave Henry alone in the hospital.

“You could still let me go...and see your kid...and I will be willing to forget all about this…” James Graves wheezed from under her.

Emma rolled her eyes. “You had your shot, buddy. You blew it. Now, you’re going to hang tight until Officer Nolan comes.”

The maitre d’hotel returned four minutes later, two large stocky men flanking him. Both were wearing black shirts and white aprons that were covered in grime;  the customary mark of someone who works in the back of a restaurant. Neither of them looked happy, both eying Emma’s skip with disdain.

“Miss, I know you need to leave so I talked to some of the boys in the back who are willing to babysit your friend until the authorities arrive so you can get to your son.”

It was the nicest thing a stranger had ever done for her. She gave them her first genuine smile of the night.

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an eye on him. Go see your boy… and perhaps come back for some eggplant parm when you’re able.”

With her skip issue settled, Emma raced to where she had parked her car.  Her eyes nearly bulged when she saw a parking ticket tacked to her windshield but it was nothing she couldn’t sort out with David later. It was just another annoyance and one that she needed to set aside until she saw to Henry.

The drive to the Bronx was as painful. It was as if the some unmerciful god knew how stressed she was and decided to add to it. FDR Drive was backed to hell with bumper-to-bumper traffic. She watched in frustration as the ETA on her Waze app crept up minute by minute, screaming against her steering wheel. If only she had gotten a Hummer instead of a Volkswagen Bug, then she could just crush everything in her path and be with her son already.

It took her nearly an hour and twenty minutes to get to Tiffany Street and then another ten minutes to find parking before resigning to put her car in an overpriced garage that only took cash. The men at the lot were unsympathetic to her plight. They rolled their eyes at her explanations, telling her to that the local convenience across the street had an ATM and to come back when she could actually pay them.

Needless to say by the time she finally got into the hospital, Emma was in a foul mood and was ready to go to war with anyone who got in her path. Her anger must have been plastered all over her face because anyone who saw her gave her a wide berth and the nursing staff seemed to shrink under her gaze when she demanded to know where her son was. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She just wanted to know her kid was okay.

She was led down the hall by a harassed looking nurse who was trying very hard to make small talk with her but Emma was having none of it. The nurse stopped towards the end of the hall and gestured to the last room, mumbling something about seeing to other people. She paid the woman no mind though.

She was surprised to hear laughter coming from her son’s hospital room. It wasn’t the laughter of a teenager but rather a grown man, one she didn’t recognise. Frowning to herself, she entered the room to find her son sitting up in bed and playing cards with a stranger.

Henry’s face brightened when he saw her.

“Mom! You made it! Did you get your guy?”

Emma didn’t acknowledge the question. Her attention was focused on the man sitting at her son’s bedside. He appeared to be the same age as her and dressed in the most expensive pair of sweats that she had ever seen. The New York Yankees logo was emblazoned across his chest and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms. He had messy dark hair and well-manicured stubble that seemed to enhance the line of his jaw. He was giving her a tentative smile and brushing his hands against his knees nervously. In the back of her head, Emma acknowledged he was incredibly attractive but she was more concerned with who the hell he was and why he was in her son’s hospital room.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Mom!” Henry sounded scandalized.

“Ermmm…” The man ran one of his hands through his hair. Emma noted the massive scarring that seemed to encompass webbing between his thumb and index finger and seemed to radiate in angry lines across his knuckles. He stood up and held out his other hand for her shake. “Killian Jones.”

She didn’t take it. Instead she crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised her eyebrows at him. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Henry let out a loud groan and looked like he was about have a fit.

“Mom! Are you kidding? He’s the best second baseman in the league! He has the highest on-base percentage and leads the AL in stolen bases! He’s, like, one of the top twenty best hitters! How do you not know who he is!”

Emma glanced back at the proclaimed baseball superstar and squinted a bit. Now that Henry had mentioned it, he did look a little familiar. She was pretty certain that he had seen his profile on her son’s bedroom wall. Though, he looked more intense on the poster than he did in real life. If anything, he now looked awkward and embarrassed. Killian’s face flushed under the praise and he took back the hand he had held out in order to scratch behind his ear.

“I’m pretty sure Jose Altuve would disagree with you on the best second baseman thing.”

“Okay, maybe not the best second baseman but you’re up there. You have an insane record in double plays and you play for the best team in baseball,” Henry conceded, picking up the deck of cards that had been scattered across his rollaway table.

“I appreciate the show of team spirit, Henry.”

“Okay, I get it,”she said, cutting into the bizarre display of male bonding that was happening in front of her. “What is he doing here?”

Both Henry and Killian looked uncomfortable at the question, the two of them exchanging glances. Emma felt her stomach tying itself in knots. She had a feeling she was not going to like what they had to say.

“I just wanted to make sure your boy was okay…” Killian replied slowly, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. “...and you know, make sure that there was no hard feelings or anything…”

“Excuse me?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Killian. It was a foul ball. I should have been paying attention more.”

“Perhaps but still, I would never forgive myself if anything bad had happened to you.”

“You’re the one who hit my kid?!” She hissed, looking at him with murder in her eyes. She was five seconds away from decking him in the face.

Killian seemed to sense her aggression because he put his hands out in front of him in surrender. “Not intentionally! I promise!”

“Right,” she replied in a clipped tone before turning to her son. “Do you mind if I borrow Mr. Baseball here for a moment so we can have a...chat?”

Emma wasn’t certain who looked more nervous, her son or the professional baseball player who was shifting in place like a guilty toddler.

“As long as you promise not to kill him… if he dies, we, for sure, won’t make the playoffs this year.”

“Glad to know that’s all my life is worth to you, Henry.”

“Just being honest.”

She gestured for Killian to follow her out into the hallway. He followed her but she could see the clear reluctance that embodied his stride. He reminded her of the children who sat in front of the principal’s office, waiting to be screamed at. She closed the door behind them, so Henry wouldn't listen in on their conversation. She leaned against it, crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring at him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He looked startled by the question. “I already told you. I’m here for your boy, Mrs. Swan.”

“You say that but I know how you assholes work. Everything with you is image. Henry keeps a tight lip on what happens in that locker room but I know that you and some of your buddies pay him to keep quiet about the nasty shit that goes on in that.”

“Pardon?” His lips formed a thin line. His nerves were giving way to irritation but Emma didn’t care.

“You heard? I’m not an idiot. You‘ really not here out of any concern for my son. You’re here to cover your ass and keep up your good guy image. I will not have you use my son as a publicity stunt.”

“Publicity stunt?” He repeated. He looked positively offended by her words. “Listen, Mrs. Swan-”

“It’s Emma. Not Miss Swan, especially not Mrs. Swan,” she cut him off. “I’m not married. Everyone at that fucking stadium always assumes I am. It’s annoying.”

“Alright, alright, fine, Emma,” he conceded, looking more frustrated. “I’m not here for a publicity stunt. Do you see cameras? Reporters? Any media specialists?”

“No,” she admitted.

“That’s because no one knows I’m here. Especially not any reporter. If anything, I’m in big trouble because I skipped media. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here except one of the base coaches and only because he asked where I was going.”

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for that?”

“Most definitely,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“Then why are you here?” she whispered again.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it to you but I genuinely like your son, Mis-Emma. He’s a nice kid. He’s always got a smile on his face and never complains or asks for anything except what else he can do...some of the ballboys after a while try to cut corners or try to go out partying with the team but not Henry… he’s been with us just for this season and it feels like he’s always been there…If he had been seriously hurt…” Killian paused, rubbing his hand over his jaw and looking distressed by the very idea. “...I was serious when I said I would never forgive myself.”

Emma studied him for a moment, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. She felt slightly guilty about accusing him of using Henry in such a way when he seemed so earnest in his attachment to her son.

“I didn’t want him to take the job,” she admitted. “He’s got enough going on… And now this...”

“I know.”

She looked up at him, slightly startled. “What?”

“Henry told me you were apprehensive about letting him work in the clubhouse… he thinks you only allowed it to piss off your ex.”

“Henry told you that?”

“I don’t think you understand how closely your son works with the team, love. Like I said, he’s a good kid so I tend to gravitate towards him instead of the others...we talk a lot about things...from freshman baseball tryouts to his writing...”

“You know about Henry’s writing? Henry doesn’t talk to anyone about his writing, not David, not his father.”

“Well, I think he’s more open with me about it because I’m admittedly a Babylon Five and Stargate Atlantis junkie so he’s more comfortable sharing things with a fellow nerd… from what I understand your ex was quite disparaging of his Doctor Who obsession...not that he has much taste, considering he’s a Diamondbacks fan.”

“You’re a sci fi nerd AND a professional baseball player?”

“They aren’t mutually exclusive,” he teased. “What? What did you think we only watched ESPN or Fox Sports or something?”

“Honestly, yes.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and smiling at her. Her breath caught a little and her stomach did annoyingly flips that it hadn’t done since high school. She was stunned how she went from wanting to murder him for hurting her kid to literally squirming at the sight of his face. She needed to get a hold of herself.

“We should probably go back in,” she replied. “You know, so he doesn’t think I murdered you and the team’s playoff chances…”

“Probably a good idea.”

Henry looked anxious as they opened the door, craning his neck to see past Emma. His shoulders visibly relaxed when he saw Killian, alive and well, behind her. She couldn’t help her snort of amusement.

“Did you honestly think I was going to kill him?”

“With you anything is possible, Mom. You did almost run over Carmelo Anthony that one time..”

Killian’s eyebrows rose as he regarded her with a look that was equals concerned and amused. “You almost ran over Carmelo Anthony?”

“That’s not my fault! He was on his phone and walked in front of my car!” Emma defended. “He’s lucky that I have amazing reflexes and was able to stop in time or else he would have been out for all of 2016.”

“I think at that point Knicks fans would have thanked you. I’m pretty they were trying to get rid of him by then. He was a cancer to the team,” Killian responded with a smirk.

“You follow basketball too?”

“I follow most major sports, love. Except maybe golf. But that’s because I firmly believe if you can drink and smoke while playing it, then it isn’t a sport,” Killian remarked.

“Babe Ruth used to eat, drink and smoke between innings,” Henry teased.

“That’s because Babe Ruth was a baseball god and could do whatever he wanted.”

“If you say so.”

Killian gave Henry a light shove in response. He sat down in his original seat and picked up the neatly stack cards that Henry had been fiddling with.

“Do you want to play another hand?”

“Only if Mom deals in,” Henry smiled.

“I can play,” Emma responded, taking another chair and sitting next Killian. She miscalculated the distance between them, causing her knee bump against his. Emma was vaguely surprised when neither of them pulled away from the accidental contact. “As long as I get the official story of what happened.”

Henry’s face turned red and ducked his head down, focusing on the cards Killian was dealing.

“Okay….so with foul balls, we’re supposed to give them away to fans. And when we say fans, they mean to give them away to the little kids. You know? The four to ten-year olds. Anyway, there was this family and they had two kids and the older kid really really really wanted a ball....so I gave him one and the other kid who was maybe three, I think? I’m guessing he was three, anyway, he threw a big tantrum and I just wanted him to be happy and have a good time so I decided to give him the next ball that came our way...So that’s what I did. And this kid, I don’t think he understood that you’re supposed to keep it because he threw it back on the field...The long and short of it is that I was supposed to be paying attention to the batter. You’re not supposed to do anything but watch when someone is in the box because of safety reasons but the kid threw the ball and I went to pick it up...and the next thing I knew I was on the ground... So really, it’s not Killian’s fault, Mom. It’s mine. And I’m probably going to lose my job over it.”

“You’re not going to lose your job over that, Henry,” Killian said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Things like this happen. You’re not the first and you probably won’t be the last ballboy to get hit.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely,” he responded, picking up his cards.

Emma was more focused on her son than on the card game, looking at him in concern.

“What did the doctor say?”

“That I have a mild concussion. They did tests and say I should be okay, but they want to keep me overnight for observation,” Henry shrugged.

“They did tests!?”

Tests and an overnight in the hospital? She could only imagine what the hospital bill was going to look like. She highly doubted her crap ass insurance plan would do much to cover the costs. She was going to be paying this off all year. She could feel it.

Killian seemed to sense her distress and played a hand on her arm. She jumped slightly at the contact.

“I’m pretty sure the organization is going to foot the bill, love. And if they don’t, I will. You don’t need to worry.”

“We’re not a charity case,” she snapped.

“I didn’t say you were. It’s just the right there to do.”

They didn’t talk much after that, instead focusing on the card game that they had started. Henry was pretty much sweeping them both but Emma had a sneaking suspicion that Killian was losing on purpose, trying to make Henry smile and laugh. It was strange to see someone interact with her son like this outside David and Neal. It did funny things to her insides.

Killian stayed with them past visiting hours, using his charm and clout as a professional baseball player to keep the nurses from kicking them out. It wasn’t until his agent, an imposing woman in a well-tailored pantsuit, came and pulled on the back of his sweatshirt, did Killian leave. Emma didn’t know who was more upset, she or Henry, that he was going.

“You’ll see me sooner than you think,” he told Henry, ruffling his hair a bit and causing the teenager to scowl at him. “You’ll be working at the clubhouse again before you know it and we still have to work on your swing. If you’re not a starting baseman by next year, I will eat my shoe.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Henry replied smartly.

Killian’s eyes cut to Emma, smile softening. “Will I be seeing you around?”

“I don’t know, do you plan on whacking my son in the head again?”

“Hopefully not,” he chuckled, ducking his head a bit.

“Then maybe…”

“Just maybe?”

“It’s better than no.”

“Too true,” he chuckled. “Well, I look forward to maybe seeing you around.”

Henry hit her in the shoulder as soon as Killian was out the door, smirking at her. “You were flirting with Killian Jones!”

“What? I was not!”

“You were too! And he was flirting back! I saw you!” he crowed. “Wait until Uncle David hears this!”

“You’re not telling Uncle David anything because nothing happened!”

“Suuuuureeeeee Mom.”

“Shut up,” she said, giving him a light shove back. “And you should be resting.”

“And you should have gotten his number.”

“Henry. Sleep.”

It turned out that Emma didn’t have to ask. Next afternoon there was a large package outside their apartment, containing a large display of flowers, a personalized New York Yankees jersey with ‘Swan’ on the back, a pack of baseball cards and an index phone with a handwritten message: Just in case, you want to make that maybe a certainty, give me call: 212-921-2012 - KJ

[immawritethat]

FNF 1/25/2019 Coffee Shop AU

I, admittedly, got too into this one. The characters are from With the Assist, my superhero sidekick WIP!

@writerofwriting @persephone-pensdown

For Sully, there was almost no better feeling than suiting up. Which, okay, maybe that a dramatic way of saying to putting on his apron and roll up his sleeves for work, but he really did enjoy it. The Caffeinated Cape was, well, a bit eccentric in its theme and décor, but it had remained a mainstay in the city for decades. The original owner had just really enjoyed comics as a kid, and managed to build brand flexible enough to bring in nerds both young and new. Anyone who managed to get hired was paid generously and given some wonderful benefits, which was all that a college student could dream of.

Sure, the interview had been…weird, too. While the old man had stepped down for the most part, he insisted on vetting the applicants himself. Sully was pretty sure he really hired people based on how fit he thought they would be as heroes rather than baristas, but he got the job, so that was a nice reflection on his character. And now he could impress his girlfriend with latte art, which was a bonus. Well, it had been.

Sully stepped out onto the floor, unsurprised to find Andi and Marcus on bar. He’d be on register, he imagined. The three had worked together a decent time now—Marcus actually having worked here even longer than Sully. Sully had no idea how someone so gruff had passed the owner’s hero test—especially when he’d admitted he stole from the shop as a kid. Maybe it was some tragic backstory ideation. He nodded to Sully in greeting, calling out a Great Responsiblitea with honey for Peter.

Andi hissed underneath her breath as she spilled steamed milk across her hand, shaking it off and wiping the excess on her apron. Andi was…unique, Sully liked to say. She had half of her head shaved down, the rest tousled and dyed a deep, blood red, which was prominent against her olive skin. It was easy to tell when she’d chosen the music for the day—plenty of feminist acoustic rock and a few rarer punk songs, which she insisted was because most of her favorite songs weren’t work appropriate. And she almost always managed to burn herself on the hot drinks, but insisted that the cold ones were “soul-sucking” and “for bitch babies who can’t handle a little fear in their lives.” Sully didn’t think it was that deep, but hey. Hot drinks it was.

Sully made his way through the line, a blur of faces both familiar and new. He made the usual small talk—yeah, the weather is great today! How’d the kid’s play turn out? Would you like that one size larger for another fifty-cents? He enjoyed the snapshot stories of people’s lives—a couple on their first date, an artist mooching off the free wi-fi as they nursed the same coffee for over an hour, a father bringing in his child to trap them into a long story about all the comics that he had owned when he was younger, before he sold or traded them away for this and that.

Although, he had to admit he missed not having more moments of his own.

Once school was over, he told himself again. He’d find someone else in time. Until then he had school, and his job, and his friends. He was fine.

The line cleared away at the clock neared half past noon—too late for most people’s morning coffee, and with weather so tepid outside, there was no rush for an iced drink. A young woman stood a few feet off from the counter, staring up at the menu board above. She brushed her short, white-blonde hair behind her ear, revealing just the faintest hint of a tattoo. Sully felt his heart skip a beat. He was such a goddamn sucker for a pretty girl.

“If you have any questions, I can help you.” His voice held even more cheer than usual, his smile genuine and bright. She returned one of her own, face dusted with pink.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m probably holding you guys up. I’m just, uh, I’m not sure about what to eat. Coffee is easy,” she said.

“I can get that started for you, if you’d like!”

She stepped up to register, offering an apologetic laugh. “Right, um, just a medium coffee, black. And uh, maybe a recommendation on what’s a good lunchtime filler?”

“If you really want the good stuff, I’d recommend any pastry. We get them from another local place. The most killer croissants you’ll eat in a lifetime! The muffins are good, too, and if you want to come back, we do have some creped crusaders on the weekends.”

“Creped crusaders?” She laughed. He couldn’t help but notice the way her nose wrinkled up when she did.

“Oh, they’re the bomb. But we only get Kenny in on weekends, so it’s a special. Sweet or savory, he can crepe it up!” Sully grabbed a cup and his Sharpie. “Your name? After all, the Instagram pics are the best part of getting a fix.”

She laughed again, nodding in agreement. “Avery. And I’ll take a croissant with that, per the barista’s recommendation.”

“Two ninety-five,” Sully announced with some bravado. “The croissant is on the house.”

He could feel his coworker’s eyes boring into him, but he ignored it.

“Well you really do know how to make a student’s day!” Avery swiped her card, and dropped a dollar and change in the tip jar. “I’ll cover a bit of that, I hope.”

Sully gathered her order, handing it to her, his smile never dropping. “Have a wonderful day there, Avery.”

“Thanks…” Her gaze fell down to his nametag. “You too, Carter.”

“Sully,” he corrected. “My friends call me Sully.”

           “Sully, then.” She spun on her heel and made her way out the door.

The bell hardly finished a single charm before Andi threw an empty cup in his direction.

“You officially cannot ever made fun for flirting with customers again, ohmygod! You might as well have written your number on her cup.”

“If she’s back, we’ll do it,” Marcus added with a wry grin. Sully’s face burned, and he was glad he was far too dark to visibly blush.

“Don’t you guys have dishes to do?” He retorted. He wasn’t going to admit he’d love if they did. He hoped he didn’t scare her off. He hoped if nothing else, the coffee was good enough to bring her back.