#shout out to writing a novel about knitting i love this for me

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

Took exactly 1 month and 1 week (including the week I took off) to finish this bad boy. I don't have the energy/ability to block this man despite how desperately he needs it (and i'm putting off weaving in the ends) but I think he's beautiful regardless.

Pattern/Yarn info and other thoughts below

Shawl Smorgasbord by Stephen West, knit in Cloudborn Fibers Highland Fingering in Shaela Heather (107), Taupe Heather (02), and Stone Heather (03). Cloudborne Fibers Alpaca & Highland Natural in Graphite Heather (109) and Espresso Heather (110).

Very happy with how the border turned out despite my winging it. I'm still not a super big on the chevrons and how they distort the shape BUT if they start behaving once they're blocked out I'll probably love them too.

He's very large and warm, unblocked his wingspan is about 70 inches and his depth is about 30 inches. Which is smaller than I would expect based on the blocked measurements but the yarn I used is a very light fingering (494 yards to 100 grams compared to the recommended yarn's 400 yards per 100 grams).

I've never knit such a large project in fingering, this yarn was incredible for it (despite being loose 2 ply I barely had any issues with splitting and found this yarn incredibly easy to knit with even without looking at it which is unusual for fingering for me). Very annoyed that it's discontinued but now I know what to look for in animal fibers. Handwashing my wools might be annoying but I like this 2-ply significantly better than typical sock yarns.

For the pattern specifically I'll certainly knit it again. Six dollars felt extreme for a pattern after however long (100 hours maybe?) it seems perfectly fine. I've already picked out another Stephen West pattern to use more of this yarn with that I'll probably start soonish. His pattern writing style isn't my preference (lace patterns have ruined me and now I'm a chart truther), but the pattern itself was clear and well explained. Aesthetically the only main problem is still the border. I'm also not a large fan of the criss-cross stitch but I haven't thought of a good solution. Other than those two I really enjoy the texture of this pattern. I'd be interested in seeing it knit in all one solid colour but I'm not sure I'd be willing to do that lmao. The last couple sections + border also severely dragged to knit. However I'm not sure if I'm just having adhd "i can't physically finish anything" or if it's because I'm currently ill or if it's just so fucking hot in this room that knitting with wool was killing me. Or maybe the rows were just over 650 stitches. The next shawl with this yarn is allegedly slightly smaller. But still smaller.

Overall this shawl was a very enjoyable knit. I wish the yarn wasn't discontinued but I also got it extremely cheap because it is discontinued so now I know my preferences better. The pattern itself was worth the price. However this shawl absolutely needs blocking (and probably pretty aggressive blocking at that) so it probably wouldn't be nearly as successful in a non animal fiber. Acrylic Might work with steam blocking but I'd expect it to have a difficult time laying flat/not distorting.

[eddysocs]

The Storycrafter — Merlin x OC

Summary: With Nella having read all the books she can get her hands on, Merlin takes it upon himself to craft some new, magical tales for her.

Word Count: 787

Warnings: Pure fluff

Nella stood frowning at the bookshelves, figuring if she stared hard enough perhaps she’d find a book whose spine she had not yet cracked open. She’d read every novel available to her, and even a few of the denser academic volumes that had done nothing but collect dust for years, and yet she still sought more.

Merlin had noticed Nella rifling through the castle's book selection and the carts of books from local merchants so often that it was strange when he came across a book and it was not in Nella's hand. Yet when he’d seen her of late, there was no book in sight, not in her hand, not tucked under her arm, nowhere he’d usually spot one. She seemed in good enough spirits that he didn’t want to pry, but it’s something he’d keep an eye on.

"I knitted you a new kerchief," she told him one day out of the blue, and sure enough, a red hand stitched kerchief was held out to him, not poorly made, but not up to the skill level of a more advanced craftsman. That’s when he realized this was a new hobby of hers, something that had replaced her voracious love for reading. "It’s for the winter months. Heavier," she explained when he’d spent too long staring dumbfoundedly at it.

"Right," Merlin finally said, taking the kerchief from her and running his fingers over it. "Very warm, thank you." He wanted to ask about her lack of a book, but he’d already bumbled this thoughtful gesture of hers, so he’d probably only make things worse. Perhaps he’d try again in a few days.

A few days passed and Nella remained without a book. No knitting this time, though. Instead, he spotted several brushes in her possession. Another new hobby? She didn’t look pleased. Maybe she’d run out of books, he surmised. Despite Camelot's wealth, it had fairly little works of literature from outside its own castle walls. He could retrieve more for her, only he didn’t know where to find them if not in Camelot. So if he couldn’t find them, maybe he could…

The moment he got back to Gaius, he rifled through the hidden selection of magic books that the court physician had hoarded over the years. Surely something would lead to a spell for making books. There were things for creativity, crafting, but nothing specific to what he was after. Maybe with a little ingenuity he’d be able to make it work.

Merlin didn’t sleep that night, working long into the hours approaching dawn before he’d finally managed to accomplish the task he’d set himself. By daybreak, he’d crafted Nella a dozen more books to read. Rushing through the castle's halls with renewed vigor, despite his sleepless night, Merlin bustled along with a stack of carefully crafted books in his hands, nearly dropping the pile several times as he made his way to Nella's usual route.

"Nella," he called after her the moment he spotted her.

Nella turned quickly, having been startled by the sudden volume in which her name had been shouted. Her pale blue linen skirt twirled around her legs as she took in the sight of Merlin, or rather the stack of books hiding Merlin from her view. "Are those— where did you get these?"

Her hands were tracing the spines of the newly created novels before she’d even bothered to find his face behind the stack. "I made them," Merlin responded.

"Made them? You did not write twelve different books overnight and have time to bind them."

"No, not by hand…"

"You mean you made these with your—" she hardly needed to finish the sentence and, out in the open, she dared not.

"For you. I noticed you hadn’t had any new books in a while and it didn’t feel right seeing you without one."

Nella laughed. "So you made me twelve?"

"I didn’t have time for more. Not yet. But I’m getting the hang of it."

"Merlin, this is really too kind of you. Using your…gift to make me reading material is truly asking too much."

"You didn’t ask, though. I just wanted to." This last statement was punctuated with a long yawn and Nella realized Merlin must have been at this all night. Nella took it upon herself to grab half of the stack from Merlin's tired arms and motioned him to follow her.

"Help me get these home and I’ll make your excuses to Arthur so you can rest." Merlin opened his mouth to interject, but Nella already knew what he was going to say. "Something other than the tavern."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you, Merlin. I promise I’ll do my best to make these last."

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @gcthvile

Nella Landon: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @axelauriantswp

[fumblingmusings]

I know its not gonna be a happy ending but sometimes any flavour of asakiku is everything to me 😭 would it be okay if we got some headcannons about evie and Kiku in a future we're they never separated and worked well for each other?

Who says they'll be apart forever hmmmmmmmmmmm?

But lol yes! Hummmm. Fem!England and Japan romance headcanons-modern day edition. Let's go!

He still gifts her pearls - brooches, bracelets, earrings, rings, and necklaces - the whole shebang. In 2020, she received a pearl tiara for when he came over with his Emperor and Empress for the State Visit. Japan has a tradition of gifting their princesses a necklace and tiara when they come of age. They're usually just diamonds with some pearls, which can make them seem plain (can't believe I'm saying that) in comparison to the European traditions of coloured gems (that's a lie, Belgium and Spain are in the same boat). It's a whole thing regarding rank married in versus blood princesses, etc., but typically, the lower rank and married in girls get more naturalistic and less structured designs. I'd like to imagine that she got one like the former Princess Noriko's - such a wonderful shout out to the classic Japanese artwork that everyone in the West knows:

Apologies for the dinky/blurry photo. It's hard to get a hi res shot of this thing.

On the other end of things, and this will pop up in the fic, but she gives him her literature. 1st editions and rare books to add to his library. Kiku has such an interest in writing and literature and poetry, and takes very good care of them.

Initially, she gives him her Victorian novels, but Kiku, off his own initiative, goes further back, having a go at Chaucer and such. He is very good at translating works to and forth between English and Japanese and often gifts books back to her.

I mentioned it in a previous post, but Kiku particularly attaches to the poem Pearl, and England also shows him like the works of Julian of Norwich and Margery Kempe, who were two writers and friends in the 14th century. Julian's is considered the oldest piece definitively written by a woman in English, and Margery's is the oldest autobiography in English, let alone one by a woman.

She likes to go on hikes with him, they can walk and walk and walk for miles. She has taken him to the Peak and Lake Districts more times than they can count, not to mention Dartmoor, Exmoor, the South Downs, and the Yorkshire Dales. They both love their gardens, both going to great pains to look after them. They spend a great deal of their time together outside.

And when they get home, like the old married couple they are, she tidies up around the house, he cooks dinner, then they settle down for the night. She knits or crochets whilst watching something like Only Connect or University Challenge, Kiku is absently listening in the background as he plays a video game, and get more questions right then Evie. He is congratulated with a knitted jumper by the end of the night.

They don't have sex that often. Really. Both are kind of lazy partners and are old fogies, they'd rather go to bed and sleep than anything. Eva in particular is clingy, and is prone to biting. It was a fight to get her to remember to not do it above the collar line.

As they both learn post WWII how and when to get involved with governments and politicians and armies and such, they are slowly given more and more freedoms to just be, with no strings attached. It's then, when she's able to let go of a heavy and poisonous burden, and he's free from such a destructive ideology, that they're able to meet in the middle once again, not as England and Japan, but as two very old immortals.

Alfred is able to plug the gap, rather than be dividing force this time. He's not happy about his mom being in a relationship with his best mate (the day he saw those teeth marks it was somehow a larger betrayal than anything Eva or Kiku had done prior), but it's purely in a dude that's my mom territory, rather than a political gripe.

[hopelikethemoon]

Moonbeam (Ezra x Reader) [smut] {Werewolf AU}

Title: Moonbeam  Rating: Explicit  Length: 6,000 Warnings: Non-graphic description of bodily injury and smut (cunnilingus, doggy style sex, mentions of masturbation).   Reader Details: To the best of my knowledge, there are no references to Reader’s physical details, beyond being a bisexual woman. I tried my best to keep it as vague as possible.  Notes: So, this is the second lengthy Ezra fic I’ve written this month, but the only one that will see the light of day. Shout-out to @rzrcrst​ for pre-reading this for me.  Werewolves are my niche and I’m absolutely incapable of writing them without creating the lore around their existence. Ezra exudes big werewolf energy (P.S. Javier exudes big vampire energy) and since I’m not really in a fandom until I write a werewolf AU, I present you all with my very own version of space werewolves.  Depending on audience reactions, there might be more of this story to tell. 

Taglist:@princessbatears @djarin-junk @absurdthirst @hdlynn @legally-a-bastard @opheliaelysia @heather-lynn @sabinemorans @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons​ @pedrospunk​ @maybege​ @chews-erotically​ @katlikeme​ @lose-eels​ @youmeanmybrain​ @theindiealto​ @irishleesh93​

You had heard the rumors, but never once had you believed that they were true. A werewolf living on a moon? Werewolves were the stuff of fairytales. They weren’t real. 

They weren’t real. 

But someone who had come before you had clearly considered the potential. Why else had someone thought to set up a cleverly concealed steel trap?

The pain was overwhelming. Worse than anything you’d ever encountered before. You were lucky your leg hadn’t snapped in two — your heavy coveralls were your saving grace. 

You howled out in pain as you dropped to your knees, trying in vain to pry the trap off your leg. The sharp teeth had bit through the fabric of your coveralls and the dark stain forming told you everything you needed to know about your future. If you didn’t get the trap off soon, you were going to bleed out. 

And then you’d become a smorgasbord for whatever creatures lived on this moon. There had to be something terrifying in the forest that had convinced everyone to believe in werewolves. 

“Kriff.” You swore, your arms throbbing with effort as you tried yet again to free your leg from the trap. You dropped back onto your ass, before sinking down onto the soft mossy ground beneath you. 

At least the stars were out. You could see them through the bareboned trees as they swayed above you in the evening breeze. 

The pain wasn’t so bad at a certain point, most likely because of the blood loss. That would do it. That woozy, tingling sensation that had your vision blurring at the edges. 

A branch snapped nearby, sending a dull spike of nerves through you. You hadn’t made a study of the flora and fauna on the moon — but that certainly didn’t sound like a small creature. 

“Please don’t eat me.” You mumbled, tilting your head to look in the direction of the sound. The filtered moonlight from the crescent moon above barely illuminated the forest around you and your flashlight was just out of reach. 

You heard the sound of another branch snapping under foot, “Hello?” 

All men are beasts in their own right, but the man that stepped into your line of view seemed an unlikely candidate. 

“I do believe that trap was not set to ensnare one such as you,” He drawled out with a honey-sweet cadence as he moved towards you.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” You offered weakly, trying to sit up as he knelt beside you, but your vision blurred harshly and you sank back onto the ground. 

“How fortuitous you are that I take my evening stroll through this very copse of trees.” He mused, effortlessly freeing your leg from the steel trap. 

“How—“

“You have lost a considerable amount of blood, little lamb. I would be most obliged to offer shelter and succor. These woods are no place to remain alone. One can never know what creatures fresh blood may attract.”

You exhaled shakily as you stared up at the stars above you. He was right — you’d never make it back to your transport alone on your leg. “Promise not to kill me?” You cracked, tilting your head to look at him.

He flashed you a toothy grin, “I promise.” 

“What is your name?” You asked as he hoisted you into his arms, with surprising ease. 

“Ezra.” He told you, looking down at you. “And what is your name, little lamb?”

“Ezra.” You repeated softly, resting your cheek against his chest as he carried you through the forest. You gave him your own name, feeling a strange warmth wash through you when he repeated it back in that beguiling tone of his. 

“Am I right in my assumption that you are the occupant of the transport that arrived just two nights ago.” Ezra questioned quietly. 

“Depends on who is asking.” You jested lightly, “I am. Reconnaissance mission for a mining program.” 

“Ah,” His grip on you seemed to tighten. “Another greedy venture to strip the moon of its precious lunaxium?” 

“I can only assume.” You glanced up at him, “Above my pay grade.”

“You should leave within the week.” Ezra remarked, keeping his sharp gaze focused ahead of him. “It won’t be safe for you.”

“You don’t believe in that stupid story, do you?” You questioned, “Isn’t that just a tale to keep prospectors from coming here?”

“I once believed that.” Ezra muttered, before falling silent for the remainder of the journey to his humble abode. 

You had so many questions for your serendipitous savior, but he tended to your leg in relative silence and then left you to rest in his bed. 

From what you could tell, Ezra had fashioned a home for himself out of a crashed transport vessel that you could only assume had been his own at one time. Perhaps he’d been like you once upon a time, a drifter picking up odd jobs and landing in bad situations. 

Ezra was handsome. The moonlight hadn’t tricked you into thinking that — in the garish light of his bedroom, he was still just as striking. Warm eyes, long lashes, a mess of chestnut hair with a shock of blonde, and a wiry frame. 

How long had he been living on Lykaios? Had his vessel crashed on a wayward venture and he’d had no one to come looking for him? Not that anyone would come looking for you either. 

Maybe Shiva. They would’ve probably come looking for your corpse just to get what was owed to them. 

It was a damn miracle that Ezra had stumbled upon you. How had he even found you? The woods all looked the same. 

Sleep came slowly and fitfully. Despite the shot Ezra had given you, your leg was agonizingly painful if you moved at all. Fortunately, there were books within reach — well-loved, with worn pages. You wondered if they had been Ezra’s to start with, or if he’d found someone’s abandoned transport. 

He had excellent taste. 

You hadn’t seen a stack of Chaucer since you were much younger. His copy of Canterbury Tales had been opened so many times the spine wilted in your palm. 

Ezra announced himself with a short knock, before sliding open the durasteel door. “I expected you to be asleep. You had quite the evening, little lamb.”

“I tried.” You made a note of the page you were on before closing the book and sitting it aside on the bedside shelf. “I got distracted by… your collection of novels.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “I see you’re getting acquainted with my old oppo Chaucer.” 

“I’ll have you know, Chaucer is my friend.” You quipped, drumming your fingers against the cover of the book. “It was nice to retrace old lines.” 

“He’s an acquired taste,” Ezra tucked his hands behind his back and stepped into the room. “Youth may outrun the old, but not outwit.”

You smiled a little, “Earn what you can since everything’s for sale.” 

Ezra chuckled, shaking his head. “And how true that is.” He gestured grandly towards your leg, “But oftentimes it comes with folly.”

“Is that how you ended up here?” You questioned, “I wanted to ask you last night, but with everything...” 

He shrugged, dragging over a trunk and perching on the edge of it. “Five years ago I stood where you stand. They were looking for a new form of clean energy — lunaxium seemed like the answer.” Ezra pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, looking away from you then. “This place is filled with hidden dangers. Once you can put weight on your leg, I encourage you to leave.” 

“You could come with me.”

Ezra’s gaze snapped towards you, “No.” 

Your brows furrowed together, “Alright.” 

“I need to change your bandages,” Ezra exhaled heavily as he rose from the trunk, he turned his back to you as he moved to retrieve the roll of gauze from a shelf. 

Your eyes widened as you spotted a twisted scar that ran up the back of his neck into his hairline and vanished down the back of his shirt. You hadn’t noticed it last night while he fussed over you. 

“Ezra, why can’t you leave?” 

Ezra sighed heavily as he sat down on the foot of the bed, drawing your leg into his lap. “It’s home.” He answered simply, unwinding the bandages. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but this—“ He gestured around him. “It’s mine.” 

“And you haven’t gone stir crazy after five years?” You questioned, grimacing as he prodded at your wound. “I was gone for two months on a solo mission once and I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to Shiva again. Even if they did rob me blind during liar’s dice.” 

“You get used to solitude.” Ezra glanced at you briefly, before turning his attention to the task at hand. He cleaned the area around the wound, before wrapping fresh bandaging around it. “Once or twice a year, someone like yourself arrives and…”

“And the mythical werewolf eats them?” You jested, sinking back against the mattress as he laid your leg back down on the bed. 

“Something like that.” He offered dryly, eyeing at you warily. “There’s a full moon in eleven days. I would advise you not to wait around to discover whether or not it is simply lore.” 

Your brows knit together and you sat up, arms curled around your waist. “You say that like there’s a chance it is true. You’ve been here for five years… What have you seen?” 

“I have things I must attend to away from here.” Ezra said abruptly, “Rest and I’ll return in a few hours to escort you back to your transport.”

Ezra did little to assuage that sinking sensation that told you that maybe just maybe there were werewolves on Lykaios. 

“Before you settled here, what did you do?” You questioned, leaning into Ezra’s side as he kept a firm hand coiled around you for support. “Your transport didn’t offer many clues, outside of your exquisite taste in literature.”

 Ezra chuckled, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was a harvester. A damn good one, at that. But seasons get hard, tides turn, allegiances bend. Fell into a bit of a snare with an associate and had to dig my way out.” 

 “I think we’ve all been there before,” You shook your head. “I enjoy gambling. Nasty habit.” You admitted. “I wasn’t meant to be the one to come to Lykaois. My friend — the one I mentioned before — had been assigned to this mission. They lost it in a dicey bet with me.” 

 “Dicey?”

“What gambler plays honorably?” You countered. “I cheated.” 

“And this friend of yours was meant to come here instead?” 

You nodded, “Tried to win it back right up until the moment I took off.” Shiva had been furious that they’d lost and even more furious knowing that you hadn’t played fair. “I’ve heard the stories about Lykaois and I wanted to find out if they were true.”

“One shouldn’t go looking for the stuff of myth.” Ezra drawled out. “In my erstwhile profession, I had a certain predilection for danger. It can be damning.” 

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, but… is there a reason you can’t leave?” You stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble slightly. “My transport has life support for three. If there’s someone else you’ve got here — if that’s why you don’t want to leave.” 

You could feel Ezra’s gaze bore into your skin. 

“I’m not leaving.” You told him, when he made no attempt to answer your question. “I’ll take a day or two to rest, but I’m finishing what I’ve started.” 

“It’s not safe.” 

“Then why don’t you leave?” You pushed back. “If it’s so dangerous, why aren’t you trying to leave?”

Ezra worked his jaw slowly, before looking towards the sky and sighing heavily. “I’m not the only inhabitant on this moon. Some have been here for much longer than me and they…” He shook his head slowly. 

You curled your fingers around his forearm, turning to stare at him. “They’re what?” 

“Little lamb, be glad you were found by me and not one of them.” Ezra gritted out, holding your gaze. “Consider your luck and leave before it runs out.” 

He wasn’t going to relent. Whatever secrets Lykaois held, he wasn’t going to reveal them to you. 

“Will you at least let me give you a few of my books?” You questioned, squeezing his arm tight as you used him to support your weight. 

“Depends on what you’re offering.” Ezra retorted, “But we need to keep moving. You need to get your leg up.” 

 Ezra was entranced with your small collection of books. Like a man starved, he snatched up every book — flipping through its pages with reverence. You couldn’t imagine spending five years without getting your hands on a new book. 

You thought he would abruptly leave once he had you safely tucked into your transport — but he lingered. 

“Nothing in the world is single; all things by a law divine in one another's being mingle. Why not I with thine?” Ezra read, the words falling from his tongue with a richness that your mind had never been able to give them. 

“Shelley?” You questioned, tilting your head to try to get a look at the book he was holding. 

“Indeed.” He closed the book and held it to his chest. “Our dear friend Percy had quite a way with words. Overshadowed — and rightfully so — by his beloved wife.” 

“I haven’t been able to get my hands on Frankenstein. Not since I was maybe fourteen.” You admitted. 

Ezra snapped his fingers, “You should’ve spoken up, little lamb. Mary has kept me company on many lonely nights.”

“I will part with Percy,” You told him, hobbling towards him on your wounded leg. “But only if you are willing to part with Mary.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, still clutching the book to his chest. “I will have to consult with her.” Ezra told you with a soft smile, “I have no doubt that she is as tired of my company as anyone would be.” 

You reached out and covered his hand with yours, “I will let you reunite the couple for just one night. But you have to promise me that you’ll bring me Frankenstein.”

Ezra’s gaze lowered to where your hand was on his, a faint color rising in his cheeks. “Promise me you’ll leave once books have been exchanged.” He covered your hand with his other hand, squeezing gently. “If you stay, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“Me.” Ezra breathed out, his dark eyes setting on yours. “I will bring you lunaxium that you can take back to whomever hired you. Warn them from this place and forget it.” 

“It’s not that simple.” You found yourself leaning into him for support, “I have to complete testing and analysis. Reports. I can’t just take back a lump of lunaxium and hope for the best.”

A growl like sound rose up in the back of his throat, “Then I’ll do the reports for you. I know more than I ever cared to know of lunaxium and this godsforsaken rock. You are not to venture beyond this transport.”

You pulled your hand away from his, “I’ll do as I please, thank you.” 

Ezra gritted his teeth, “Do you have a death wish? Now isn’t the time for obstinance. Not this close to a full moon.” 

You blinked at him, “Are you…?”

His expression faltered, fingers twitching against the book before he held it out to you, “Keep it and leave tonight. Please.” 

“No.” You shook your head, “I want to know.” 

“Among these stories,” He gestured to your shelf of books, “I’m afraid it’s an unimpressive tale.”

“I’m always looking to hear new stories.” You told him, grimacing as you put too much weight down on your leg. “Shit.”

“Please sit,” Ezra urged, moving swiftly to curl his arm around your waist as he guided you towards the makeshift sofa you’d made from a weapon crate and oversized pillows. 

He sank down onto the opposite end, hands covering his face as he let out a heavy sigh. “Five years ago, I was just like you. Starry-eyed, devil-may-care.”

“Is that how you see me?”

“Yes.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “I came here looking for lunaxium like every ill-fated prospector before me. The rumors, the legend, the myth — they made for a tantalizing adventure.” His expression sobered as he stared straight ahead. “It’s painful. Muscles tear, bones shatter, skin stretches.”

Your heart clenched and your stomach roiled at the thought. 

“They say the first was a corruption. There are wolves among us, lurking beyond the trees — fearful in their own right of what looms above them. Someone played with fate and made a monster that even Shelley couldn’t have imagined. Lunaxium has no effect on humans, but it calms the beast for awhile.”

Without even thinking about it, you carefully shifted onto your good knee, letting your leg rest over the side of the sofa as you leaned towards Ezra. “This scar.” You said as you gingerly brushed your fingers over the back of his neck. 

He tensed, fingers clenching and unclenching in his lap. “I was attacked on my second night here.” He confessed, exhaling slowly. “Forgive me, little lamb. It has been a right smart spell since I have felt another’s touch.”

“You shouldn’t have to live like that, Ezra.” You whispered, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Isolating yourself… Maybe there’s a cure.”

“I can’t leave Lykaois.” He admitted, closing his eyes as he relaxed under the gentle touch of your fingers. “We’re reliant on the lunaxium and whatever this moon is cursed with. I would go mad.”

“Has anyone ever tried to leave?”

“There are stories.” Ezra turned to look at you. “I appreciate your offer. If it weren’t for what I’ve become, I would accept it without hesitation. But I would rather perish in the solitude of my transport than lose my mind somewhere among the stars.”

You trailed your fingers from his hair, along the curve of his jaw. “I could come back.”

“And put yourself in danger twice over?”

“I put myself in danger every time I venture out on a harvest with a ragtag team that might turn their weapons on me. Life is a risk, Ezra.” You held his gaze as you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip. “I can be your connection to the world you’ve lost. Name it, anything — I’ll bring it back here to you.”

“It’s dangerous.” Ezra seemed compelled by the offer. “The others… they’ve been here long enough to lose what’s left of their humanity.”

“Then protect me.” You brushed your fingers through the hair that fell against his forehead. 

“There’s so much I miss,” He admitted, his expression matching the way his voice broke as he held your gaze. “Five years… it’s a lifetime to spend alone.” He curled his fingers around your hand, rubbing his thumb against the center of your palm. “I don’t want you to risk yourself for me.” 

“I’m not afraid.” You told him, and as foolish as it was — you weren’t. 

Ezra’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips and your breath caught somewhere in the back of your throat when he started to lean towards you.  

He wasn’t the only one who had gone years without knowing a lover’s touch. You played things close to the chest, avoided anything that could ensnare you — except for him. 

For all of his warm charm, there was an underlying current of danger that had you feeling like a moth to the flame. He was a monster. A creature made from a curse you hadn’t even believed in.  

“Ezra.” You breathed out, leaning in until your nose brushed against his. 

He petted his fingers over your cheek as his breath mingled with yours, “You’re hurt.” 

“It’s just my leg.” Your lips were a hair’s breadth away from his, “I think we both need this.” 

Ezra curled his fingers around the back of your head as his lips crashed against yours. You groaned against his lips and his tongue took the opportunity to slip into your mouth, curling against yours. 

He kissed like a man possessed, desperate and all consuming. He hauled you into his lap like you weighed nothing, his hands clawing at your back, your ass, your arms — anywhere he could reach. 

He was starved for a connection like this. You had sensed it in the way he gravitated towards you, the way he lingered, the gentle touches as he mended your leg. 

You hissed softly as you shifted your weight in his lap, trying not to put pressure on your leg, but it was hard not to in that position. 

Ezra cupped your cheek, drawing your focus to his face as his other hand curled tight around your hip. “Do you trust me, little lamb?” He questioned, waiting until you nodded before he started to guide you back lengthways on the sofa. 

You scraped your fingernails over his scalp as you slid your fingers through his hair. His knee slotted in between your thighs as he draped himself over you. 

Greedy hands grabbed at the back of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal new skin to touch. He was touch starved. Every brush of your fingers against his untouched skin made him rut against your thigh. 

Ezra’s mouth worked down the column of your throat, teeth lightly scraping as his tongue darted out to taste your skin. His own hands sliding under your shirt, skimming over your ribs. 

You’d missed the feeling of large, rough hands against your skin. It had been more than a few cycles since you’d fallen into bed with a man. A year, maybe two, since you’d been with anyone at all. 

“Ezra.” You breathed out as his mouth moved over your covered breast, his tongue seeking out your nipple through the soft fabric. 

His eyes snapped to meet yours, pupils blown with arousal as he let out a ragged breath. “I can smell you.” Ezra murmured, his tongue flicking out to tease the peak of your nipple, the fabric darkened from his mouth. “You’re soaked, aren’t you little lamb?” He questioned, a hand wandering down your side, curling around your thigh. 

You felt your chest and cheeks burn with a heady mix of arousal and embarrassment. You were slick. You could feel your underwear clinging to your cunt, desire fueled solely by the man crowded onto the sofa with you. 

“In my bed,” Ezra whispered, untangling the hand you had in his hair. He brought your hand to his lips, inhaling deeply before wrapping his lips around your first two fingers. 

An unabashed moan escaped you, your hips lifting off the sofa as you ground yourself against his knee. You should’ve been ashamed — he had known that you’d tried to put yourself to sleep by burying your face in his pillow and your hand between your thighs. 

Ezra released your fingers with a wet pop, his nostrils flaring as he held your gaze. “You didn’t come, did you? Did la petite mort evade you?” 

“Yes.” You whispered, tracing your dampened fingers over his scruffy cheek. “I was so close, but it wasn’t enough.” 

He smirked at you as he pressed his knee firmly against you. “May I?”

“Please.” You nodded, sinking back against the sofa as Ezra moved down your body. Skilled fingers worked at the fastenings of your pants, peeling the heavy fabric down your thighs before tossing them aside. 

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of you, “Sit up, little lamb.” Ezra told you, sinking onto the ground in front of you. “Look at you.” He drawled as your thighs parted, your injured leg draped over his shoulder. 

You gasped quietly as he stroked his thumb over the damp spot on your underwear, barely brushing over your clit — but even that mere touch was enough to make you tremble. 

“Did you think of me?” Ezra questioned, peeling the fabric to the side, sweeping his fingers between your slick folds. 

“Maybe.” You retorted, biting down on your bottom lip as you watched him lick your arousal from his fingers. 

A quiet growl rose up the back of his throat as he leaned in between your thighs. He held your underwear to the side as he lapped at you, his tongue sweeping between your folds. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, grip tightening as he traced the tip of his tongue over your clit. 

“Do you need these?” Ezra mumbled, tugging at your underwear. 

“No. No.” You shook your head, pitching your hips towards him. 

Ezra effortlessly tore away the crotch of your underwear, his mouth descending upon your tender flesh. His tongue delved between your folds, thrusting into your slick core. He grabbed at your thigh, holding you steady as he turned his attention to your clit. 

You cried out as he wrapped his lips around that throbbing bundle of nerves. He sucked lightly at it, swirling his tongue over it as his fingers pressed into your cunt. 

He didn’t let up, his tongue working over your clit as he worked his fingers in and out of you. His fingers were deliciously thick, dragging in and out of you, brushing over that sweet spot within you that made your entire core quake. 

Ezra was good. 

His name was heavy on your tongue as you shattered, your inner walls clenching around his fingers, thighs trapping his face between your legs. 

“I need…” You panted out, breath hitching as he curled his fingers within you. “Fuck!” You shouted, nearly ripping his hair out as you felt a dam break as your vision blurred from the sudden burst of molten desire. Ezra was undeterred, his tongue sweeping up every drop of you. 

“More.” You urged, writhing beneath him. “Ezra, please.” 

“I might hurt you.” Ezra warned you, dragging his hands down your thighs as he nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “I don’t… I don’t know if I control myself.” 

“Forget about my leg,” You tugged at his hair. “And fuck me.” 

Ezra squeezed your hip and barked out, “On your knees.” 

You waited until he let go of you before you gracelessly flopping over on the sofa, knees planted firmly on the cushion as you grabbed at the metal shaft that made up the back of the sofa. 

“You smell so fucking good like this,” Ezra breathed out, hands sliding over your bare hips as he crowded close to you. “It’s been so long.” He pressed his lips to the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Same.” You laughed breathlessly, reaching behind you to grab at his hair. “I don’t break easy.” 

“You’ve never fucked a werewolf before.” Ezra murmured, curling his fingers loosely around your throat, keeping you pinned back against his chest as his cock slid between your oversensitive folds. “Have you?”

“Not yet.” You gritted out, curling your fingers around his forearm, thankful that he was able to keep you upright. He was strong, but the fingers wrapped around your throat were gentle. 

The head of his cock caught against your entrance and Ezra’s hips bucked forward, pressing into you. 

You moaned, completely caught up in the sensation of his thick cock filling you. The stretch was just this side of too much — especially in this angle. 

Ezra pulled back, his cock nearly slipping from you entirely before slamming back into you. His thrusts were brutal — all that strength and power that was hidden in his wiry build. He was reaching spots no one else had ever hit. 

He released his tight grip on your hip, slipping his hand between your thighs to stroke your aching clit. You clenched around him in response, making him feel even thicker as he drove into you. Again and again. 

Your nails bit into his forearm, leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin as you clung to him. You were so close, perched right on the precipice of another orgasm. 

“Come.” Ezra’s fingers curled around your jaw, his lips close to your ear. “I want to feel you come. The sweet clench of your cunt around my cock.” He mouthed a row of kisses down your neck, growling against the crook of your neck as your body obeyed him. 

He didn’t relent, even as your body pulsed around his cock. “Fuck.” He grunted out, his teeth scraping your skin. 

“Ezra.” You moaned out, your eyes falling closed as you basked in the overwhelming sensation of him fucking into you. 

His grip loosened at your jaw as he started to slide out of you, but you reached behind you, grabbing at his ass — desperately trying to keep him right there. 

Something snapped. Some frayed cord of control that he had been clinging to. 

You grabbed at the back of the sofa for support as he roughly grabbed at your hips. He bottomed out once, twice, three times before he growled out your name and came. 

Ezra curled his arm around your waist, keeping you pinned to him as he rearranged the two of you. He kept the softening length of his cock buried within you as he sank down onto the sofa with you resting back against his chest. 

“You’re very strong,” You mumbled, scratching your nails through the hair on his forearm as you looked down at the arm he had tightly curled around you. 

He huffed, a throaty chuckle escaping him as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “One perk of this damnable curse.” He brushed his thumb over your stomach gently. 

“Is the sex a perk too?” You questioned, closing your eyes as you leaned back against him. “Because, I’m not sure I want to leave at all now.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Ezra kissed your shoulder. “I’ve kept my distance. From the others.” He sighed heavily. “You don’t want to become like me, little lamb.”

“I never said that I do.” You pointed out. 

“No, I suppose you didn’t.” He shifted beneath you, whispering a quick apology when you whimpered at the movement. 

“I’m okay.” You promised, trailing your fingers up the side of his thigh. “Overwhelmed.”

“Two days.”

“Hmm?”

“You can safely stay for two more days, but then you must leave. It gets harder to maintain this the nearer we draw to the full moon.” Ezra told you, nuzzling at the crook of your neck. 

“Two days.” You agreed solemnly. 

Ezra returned just after nightfall with a stack of research notes and his well-loved copy of Frankenstein. 

“Did you know she dedicated herself to getting her husband’s works published.” You mused, looking up from the notes on lunaxium to watch Ezra as he consumed Percy’s book of poems. 

“Hmm?”

“Mary.” You explained. “As accomplished as she was, she also worked to ensure her husband’s writing would be read.”

“Indeed.” Ezra tucked the red ribbon into the page he was reading and sat it aside. “I believe their romance blossomed on her mother’s grave, no? A rather odd pair.”

“His works are dreadfully romantic, for such a macabre couple.” You pointed out, flipping over another page of notes, copying down a comment on your own notations. 

“The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?” Ezra recited, drumming his fingers against the cover. “I had forgotten that was dear Percy.” He sank back against the wall, pushing fingers through his unruly hair. “I miss the sea.” 

“I’d bring it back in a bottle if I could.” You told him, chewing on your bottom lip. “I meant what I said before. I can come back.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, moonbeam.” He let the word slip off his tongue like it was sugar-sweet. “You will grow bored of the to-and-fro.” He pursed his lips. “Though I am much appreciative of the offer. You should go back to your friends.” 

“I have one friend in this galaxy Ezra and oftentimes I’m certain they want to ring my neck.” You shook your head. “You deserve to have a friend too.” 

“I will never be able to leave,” He reminded you. “And you can never stay.”

“There’s still an in-between.” Your brows rose hopefully. “A new moon, perhaps? When the moon is there, but not visible.”

“You’re persistent.”

“I’ve been told that before.” You smirked a little. “What would you like me to bring back when I return after the full moon?”

Ezra exhaled heavily, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I would be forever indebted to you if you might get your hands on a copy of War & Peace. Dreadfully long, but I hunger for some longevity in my literature.”

“Done.” 

He snapped his fingers, “Cheese.” 

You arched a brow. “I have cheese.”

“Real cheese?” Ezra corrected. “That wretched aero cheese is nauseating.” He blanched, watching you as you rose from your seat. 

You hobbled out of the room, into the corridor where the hyperfreeze unit was mounted in the interior wall beside the coolant system. You returned moments later with a block of Reggianito. 

“You’re in luck.” You said, sinking down onto the floor beside him. “I have a hook-up on Sector Block G7.” 

Ezra broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth, sinking back against the wall with a satisfied moan. “It will be safe for you to return in a fortnight.” 

You slapped his leg playfully, “You’ll let me return if I bring cheese?”

He grinned and continued. “If you come then, you’ll have a fortnight to stay, should you choose to.” 

“That should give me enough time to find War & Peace for you and settle my debts.” 

Ezra took another bite of cheese, before passing it back to you. “Do they still make those honeysticks?” He questioned. “Little tubes with honey collected from…” He squinted, “I can’t remember the planet.”

“I can look.” You wrapped the cheese back in the cloth, before sitting it aside. “How will you be when I return?” You questioned. 

“A little worse for wear,” Ezra shrugged a shoulder, resting his hand on your thigh. “The lunaxium helps.”

“Is it… is it like a drug?”

“I suppose.” Ezra dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “There’s this hunger,” He explained, knocking his fist against his sternum. “This clawing sensation. It gets worse closer to the full moon. I lose my mind.” He shook his head. “I tried to wean myself off two years ago. Just to feel something.”

“What happened?” You rested your hand over his. 

“It triggered the beast.” He answered with a frown. “Middle of the cycle and violent.” Ezra tilted his head to look at you. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” You shook your head slowly, interlacing your fingers with his. “Maybe this will be good for you. Help you keep your humanity.”

“How so?”

“The others, the ones that were already here.” Your brows furrowed together as you turned to stare at him, “Did they lose their humanity because they lost touch with other humans?”

Ezra blinked, “You, moonbeam, are a clever one.”

“I read a lot.” You smiled at him, “And you’re  in luck — I have always loved monster stories.”

[beomcoups]

Your Name pt. 1

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jung Hoseok (BTS) x reader

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭: Walkin’ On Sunshine hosted by @kpopscape​

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, slight angst, summer love au, ice cream shop au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: PG-13

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of one night stands and friends with benefits (but nothing graphic)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.3k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Love is not something that you're familiar with. But when a guy walks into your ice cream shop, you'll discovered how easy it is to develop feelings for someone, and how scary it can be to fall in love with them.

AN: Thank you so much to @sugasbabiie​ and @darknytemare​ for looking over this for me. Also thank you to @enha-woodzies​ for making this beautiful banner for me. 

Masterlist

 You saw him on a sunny Monday coming in with a group of kids who were screaming for ice cream. You were working behind the counter, make double and triple scoops on this scorching day to cool everyone down. He caught you off guard, his handsome face sculptured from the Greek Gods themselves.

“Close your mouth; you’re drooling,” your coworker Jennie teases, nudging your arm.

“I’m not drooling,” you pout, rolling your eyes. “I’m just observing, that’s all.” 

The handsome stranger rounded up the kids and started writing down orders on a small notepad. He wore a white v-neck shirt with fitted jeans and sneakers; his glasses were tucked into his shirt, his short hair clipped nicely in all the right areas. It wasn’t your first time seeing him; he’s been coming in for the past couple of weeks since the schools let out for the summer, sometimes by himself or with the kids, ready to divulge in the cold sweets that you have to offer. 

Today happened to be a busy day, but you push through and serve each customer with a smile. You sneak a look in his direction, and the butterflies in your stomach multiply the closer he gets to you. You don’t have any plans interacting with him outside of serving his ice cream, but you can’t help the way you feel when he looks at you with those beautiful brown eyes. You finish the customer before him, excusing yourself to change your gloves before returning, only to be stopped by your supervisor. 

“Go ahead and take your lunch,” he says, putting on his gloves to help your crush. 

‘No, it’s okay,” you insist. “I can take care of him before going to lunch.” 

You try not to show your desperation, but the tightened fists in your hands say otherwise. 

“I got it,” your supervisor waves you off, sending you to clock out. To say you are disappointed is an understatement, but you hide it well, not wanting to show your coworkers that you were upset. Instead, you grab your keys and go to your car, opting to hide from everyone until it was time to go back. 

You don’t see many people like him in this small town; you’re used to seeing the same faces you grew up with in this small-knit community. But what makes this place unique is the lake that has crystal clear waters surrounded by luscious forest trees that tell a rich history. The waters in the lake cover what used to be an active mining town. A massive flood happened over a hundred years ago and swept the city away in one night. If you swim down far enough, you can still see the buildings and cars left behind from the natural disaster. 

You have tourists from all over the world who come to see this local Atlantis as it’s dubbed, especially during the summer when the schools are out and the waters are cool. You’ve seen people come and go, but no one has ever stuck out to you, except for him: the perfect stranger. It’s not like you to develop a crush this easily, especially from someone you don’t know. You’ve never been in love before, never gone on a date; your only experiences are one night stands or friends with benefits as they have no emotional attachments. You wouldn’t know what love was if it hit you in the face; that’s why having these strange feelings for this person is—scary. 

As you sit in your car mulling over your thoughts, you spot that perfect guy and the gaggle of kids leaving the ice cream shop, piling into the van one by one. His golden skin beamed brighter than the sun, the gentle wind swaying his hair in a way that makes him look straight out of a fantasy novel. You stare at him longer, watching him get into the driver’s seat, ready to take off. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as the van pulls off and the alarm on your phone reminds you that your break is over. 

“Well, there goes that,” you mutter to yourself, getting out of your car. Your eyes glance over to the pavement, and you notice a charm attached to a wallet, shining bright enough to make you cover your eyes as you approach. You realize that it’s his wallet, and it must have fallen out of his back pocket as he was getting into the van. Your thumb rubs across the tough black leather, torn in different places, the tiny little folder having its own stories to tell. You slide the wallet in your back pocket as you walk back into your job.

“Hey,” you approach your supervisor after you clock back in. “The guy that was here with the kids, do you know where I can find him? He left his wallet in the parking lot.”

“He’s one of the new counselors at Camp Plato,” he mentions nonchalantly. “I can bring it to him after I leave here.”

“I can do it!” You shout a little louder than you expected, your face feeling hot from embarrassment. “The camp is on the way home; I can just drop it off when I’m done.”

“Okay…” your supervisor gives you a curious look, and you brush it off, washing your hands and putting your gloves back on. “Let me let them know that you are coming after work.”

You nod and resume your duties of making ice cream, trying your best to ignore the heavy pounding in your heart.

As night fell, the light blue haze of day lifted to reveal the stars and moon. You pulled into the campground, holding your breath as you clutch his wallet in your hands, making your way over to the cabins. The children are gathered around small fires, making smores and singing children tunes you know all so well. Your eyes gaze around, looking for the guy that you can’t keep your mind off of. 

“I heard you were looking for me.”

Your heart drops, and you quickly step back, turning around and facing the man you have been looking for. 

“Y-yeah,” your nerves get the better of you.  “Here’s your wallet. I found it in the parking lot.”

He thanks you before taking the wallet, and you are surprised that he didn’t check to see if anything was missing. His calm demeanor is intriguing to you, and you want to make small talk but don’t know what to say. 

“Well, I’m going to get going,” you announce, pointing towards your car. 

“Oh yeah, sure,” he clears his throat. “Thanks again for bringing this back to me.”

You nod and start walking towards your car, feeling satisfied that you could bring back his wallet. You wish you could’ve said more, but knowing yourself, you would have frozen, and you don’t need that kind of embarrassment. Just seeing him was enough. 

“Hey, wait,” you hear him call to you as you are about to enter the car. “I really appreciate you bringing this back to me. Let me take you out for lunch?”

“Oh no, it’s not necessary,” you interject, though your heart says otherwise. 

“I know,” he chuckles, raking his fingers through his hair. “But I would like to.” He bats his eyes in a jokingly manner that makes you giggle, the tension you were feeling slowly leaving your body. 

“You know what? I’ll take you up on your offer,” you decided, leaning against your car. “Does tomorrow at noon sound good?”

He agrees on the time, you exchange numbers, and you get in the car, letting your top back before you pull off. Thinking over everything that happened today, you realize you forgot one crucial thing. 

“I wanted to ask before I go… What’s your name?” 

He realizes the same thing as you and lets out a hearty laugh, his face reddening from embarrassment. 

“It’s Hoseok. My name is Hoseok.”

[fictionadventurer]

Fairy Tale Retellings

I know that @magpie-trove has been recommended enough books to fill several years, but since fairy tale retellings are my niche, I’m going to throw some more titles out there. (I’m limiting myself to 1) books/short stories 2) that I enjoyed 3) that I haven’t seen mentioned in connection to the original post. I’m also trying not to branch out into too many tales, so I’m going to be leaving out some slightly more obscure ones).

Before I go into the specifics, I’m just going to say, that if you only read three books out of this list, read Entwined by Heather Dixon (12 Dancing Princesses),  Brine and Bone by Kate Stradling (Little Mermaid) and Valiant by Sarah Macguire. (And if you only read one series, make it Regina Doman’s Fairy Tale Novels.)

Cinderella

Before Midnight by Cameron Dokey: Short, sweet, autumny retelling that I like for the atmosphere and the loving relationship between Cinderella and her stepfamily.

Silver Woven In My Hair by Shirley Rousseau Murphy: Extremely short, traditional retelling, starring a mistreated girl who collects Cinderella stories while being in one of her own. Has a sweet charm to it.

Soot and Slipper by Kate Stradling: A short retelling set in a traditional fairy tale kingdom, but with an excellent plot twist. I like it very much until the ending entangles it in a far-too-complicated magic system.

The Reluctant Godfather by Allison Tebo: A sassy retelling starring a grumpy fairy baker who tries to get out of his godfather duties by getting his two charges to fall in love with each other. Gets points for a unique, almost Wodehousish parody element that is an extreme breath of fresh air in a genre dominated by YA romances.

The Spinner and the Slipper by Camryn Lockhart: Mashes up the story with Rumpelstiltskin. Clearly the work of a very young author, but I’m putting it on here for the fun use of the fairies from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Beauty and the Beast

Unseen Beauty by Amity Thomsen: Traditional fantasy retelling from the POV of one of the invisible servants. Writing that’s a cut above most self-pubbed books, with extra points for featuring a female friendship that’s just as important as the main romance.

Snow White

Fairest Son by H.S.J. Williams: Gender-flipped version involving the fae. Is the only Snow White retelling that had me uncertain for a while of where the plot was going to go.

Sleeping Beauty

A Long, Long Sleep by Anna Sheehan: A sci-fi retelling involving a girl who was regularly kept in stasis for the convenience of her corporate mogul parents, then was left in stasis for more than 70 years while the apocalypse happened. She wakes up to a world that’s recovered to become a very different place and has to deal with the emotional fallout of everything that’s happened to her. And it’s intense. This book has the distinction of being one of only two books with scenes that made me put the book down so I could sob uncontrollably. (The other is Rapunzel Let Down). There’s a little bit of content (a couple of kissing scenes that veer toward steamy, and use of futuristic swear words that have clear connections to modern swear words) but easily skippable.

The Little Mermaid

Brine and Bone by Kate Stradling: On first read, I appreciated it as a faithful-to-Andersen retelling, but found it otherwise forgettable. I reread it earlier this year and cannot understand how I possibly came to that conclusion. This has beautiful character work in a unique world that, I cannot stress this enough, is loyal to the Andersen version while appreciating the true joy of that ending.

Silent Mermaid by Brittany Fichter: First half had some excellent world-building and interesting conflicts that fell apart in a more cliche second half, but I remember it being enjoyable overall.

The Princess and the Pea

The Bruised Princess by A.G. Marshall: Part of her Once Upon a Short Story collection. They’re all decent-to-great, but this one is my favorite, a sweet little romance that makes the story make a surprising amount of sense.

I need to give a shout-out to my favorite retelling of this tale. I can’t remember the title. It was on Fanfiction.net back in the day. (I tried looking it up, but it wasn’t part of the collection I assumed it was in). It was from the POV of the servant who had to stuff all twenty mattresses. She has allergies and is miserable by the time she’s done, and gets her revenge by stuffing the top mattress with gravel.

The Twelve Dancing Princesses

Entwined by Heather Dixon: One of my very top favorite retellings, a creative and whimsical and touching story focusing on the twelve close-knit sisters and their relationship with their buttoned-up father in the aftermath of their mother’s death.

The Brave Little Tailor

Valiant by Sarah McGuire: The only retelling I’ve ever seen of this tale, starring a girl who has to masquerade as a boy to get work as a tailor, and winds up entangled in a kingdom’s battle against giants. The first act is very boring, but it turns into a very well-done retelling with excellent characters and worldbuilding.

Bonus: Series

These are series that retell several fairy tales in the same universe, and I thought it’d be easier to present them all together than separating them out by fairy tale.

The Fairy Tale Novels by Regina Doman: Catholic retellings set in the modern day. They have their weak points, but they’re my gold standard for how to write a modern retelling and how to write a religious romance.

The Shadow of the Bear: Snow White and Rose Red. Fun and adventurous. Gets points for introducing me to Chesterton.

Black as Night: Snow White, focusing on the Snow White character from the first book. Darker and more intense, but with some deep themes.

Waking Rose: Sleeping Beauty, focusing on the Rose Red character’s adventures in college. By far the most popular book in the series, it’s overlong, but extremely good.

The Midnight Dancers: The Twelve Dancing Princesses, focusing on mostly new characters with a side character from Waking Rose in the soldier role. A slighter story with a pricklier main character, but it’s a strong contender for my favorite in the series, exploring the connections between beauty and truth and goodness.

Alex O’Donnell and the 40 Cyberthieves: Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, starring Waking Rose side characters. This is a lighter adventure tale. All the stuff surrounding the hacking subplot is slightly ridiculous, but it’s one of the only YA novels I’ve ever seen that explores the realistic nuances of considering marriage with someone very different from you.

Rapunzel Let Down: Rapunzel. By far the darkest themes (it’s classified as an adult book). All new characters with some cameos. I thought it was decent on first read, but on reread, it blew me away with some of its themes (Except for a very melodramatic fifth act).

The Andari Chronicles by Kenley Davidson: Retellings set in a very mildly magical fantasy world, mostly focused on political intrigue.

Traitor’s Masque: Cinderella. 60% longer than it needs to be because of the extremely wordy writing style, and it makes me tear my hair out every time I try rereading, but the core conflict between the two brothers is compelling.

The Countess and the Frog: The Frog Prince. A short prequel novella focusing on a side character from the first book. I think it’s only available as a freebie on the author’s site but may be one of my favorite romances because the leads are so cute and sensible together.

Goldheart: Rumpelstiltskin. My favorite in the series, focused on a shy painter given an impossible task and the friends who help her get through it. The writing style’s much more concise here.

Pirouette: The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Political-intrigue focused. Also much wordier than it needs to be, though not as much as the first book. Twists the fairy tale in extremely interesting ways and has some great characters. (Prologue and epilogue are some of my favorite bits of writing in the series).

Shadow and Thorn: Beauty and the Beast. The most magical book in the series, and the most confusing because of that. There was one really cool moment with Beauty’s father, but otherwise I didn’t care for it all that much.

Daughter of Lies: Snow White with spies. Short, but fun. Reminds me of a Georgette Heyer farce.

Path of Secrets: Red Riding Hood with spies. I remember nothing about this story, which may tell you all you need to know.

Once: Six Historically Inspired Fairy Tales: What I think of as a kind of spin-off to the Rooglewood collections, this novella collection by six different authors retells six different fairy tales. My favorites are a dark but beautiful “Little Match Girl” retelling set in WWII, a steampunkish Rumpelstiltskin, and With Blossoms Gold, a Rapunzel retelling set in the Renaissance. (The only one I didn’t like at all was the Sleeping Beauty story).

Destined series by Kaylin Lee: Includes retellings of Cinderella, Rapunzel, Beauty and the Beast, Red Riding Hood, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty in one interconnected storyline. I’ve only read the first four; they’re okay-to-decent books whose main strength is the unique world they’re set in (think magical steampunky 1930s, which seems like a work of genius after you’ve been reading through a million retellings set in generically fairy tale kingdoms). My favorite is the fourth, Betrayed, which retells Little Red Riding Hood and mostly stands alone (until the last act veers it into a really complicated overarching plot).

[tlbodine]

Things That Do (And Don’t) Sell Books (in my experience)

I’ve just finished reading this book:

I am both amused and a bit disheartened to have read the whole thing and discovered that I knew pretty much everything in it. Amused, because I guess I’ve picked up a lot of knowledge over the years. Disheartened, because it clearly has not led to me becoming the break-away success I always dreamed of. Ah well. Live and learn. 

I’m all about transparency in this business, so I wanted to talk honestly for a while about book marketing and what I’ve experienced in terms of what does and does not seem to work. I’d love to hear your thoughts, so chime in with your own experiences! 

Branding and Audience 

The first third of Burke’s book is dedicated to this aspect, and it’s an important marketing step that’s easy to overlook. The idea is basically that you can’t market a product unless it has a brand identity. To create your brand, you need to do the following: 

Identify the audience who you are trying to reach with your work, or who would be most receptive to what you’re writing

Identify your dreams and goals so you have a clear picture in mind of what you want to accomplish 

Figure out how to position yourself in such a way that you a.) stand out from the competition but b.) people can still relate to and understand at a glance

Find a way to communicate your brand consistently in terms of the language used, your aesthetic, the way you act online, and so forth. 

When it comes to brand-building as an author, I think I’ve got a bit of a corner nailed down. I at least hope to be perceived as someone level-headed, thoughtful, generally positive/empathetic and humanist, but also critical and looking deeper into the meanings of things -- all of which are traits I personally possess and which are baked in to the work I do. In support of that branding, I curate my activity online as best I can: I post things that are of a certain horror aesthetic that I feel overlaps with my own interests/style; I give writing advice and boost people in the community where I can; I wade into discourse selectively and thoughtfully; I give media reviews and analysis that I think would be interesting to like-minded people. 

The “identify the audience” part is much harder for me. I’m still honestly not sure who my ideal reader is, or where exactly to go to find my audience. At this point I’m kind of scattering crumbs of myself out into the wind and hoping it will attract people who will, in turn, be interested in the work that I do (and both willing and able to support it financially). 

Things I’ve Done With Varying Degrees of Success: 

Aforementioned blogging activities. I have slowly but steadily grown my following her on tumblr and other social media sites as well as my author newsletter on substack, but it’s not clear to what extent that following translates into book sales. My writing advice posts vastly out-perform all of my other content, but I haven’t seen compelling evidence that the people interested in my writing advice are especially interested in my fiction -- it seems to be two separate groups, with maybe a sliver of overlap. 

Content marketing with more short fiction. This seems like it should be the safest, surest way to find more readers, but it’s time-consuming and discouraging because of the discoverability cycle. My horror flash fiction posts don’t get nearly as many notes as my advice posts. My attempts to get into the big anthologies that pop up have so far amounted to little, although I do need to write more. It’s just that coming up with new ideas and writing them all the time is a lot of work, and if it’s not paying off maybe I’m still better off dedicating that work to my novels. 

Sending ARCs to book bloggers/reviewers/booktube etc. I sent out dozens, if not hundreds, of these and got next to no response. I do think part of the problem is that, at the time, I had no Twitter presence, and -- like it or not -- there seems to be a bit of cliqueishness to this aspect of the book world. Now that I’ve spent more time on Twitter ingratiating myself with the horror community, I suspect I’ll have a somewhat easier job securing blurbs and reviews at least from the people in my extended social circle. But I won’t know until I try it again. *I also know I would have greater success with this if I’d been sending paperback ARCs instead of digital. I didn’t, because the cost of buying more author copies + shipping was prohibitive. 

Author Newsletter. I maintain mine in conjunction with my Patreon account. I send a monthly news round-up, making a point of shouting out both industry news and the milestones/achievements of others in the community as well as providing what I hope to be value-added or interesting content (in the form of blog posts my patrons vote on). It does OK. I average a couple of new sign-ups per month this way and tend to hover around a 25% open rate, which isn’t terrible. But it’s not great, either, and I won’t know for sure whether any of those opens will actually yield sales at any point. 

Interpersonal relationships/community building. Hands down the most successful “marketing” thing I’ve ever done is make friends with people. My writing discord group is small but very close-knit and interacting with them is one of the genuine highlights of my day. I didn’t really make it with mercenary intentions of selling books, but it has directly resulted in sales. Similarly, there are a handful of authors from Twitter and Wattpad that I’ve developed genuine friendships with, and we buy each other’s books and support one another. This whole community aspect is extremely rewarding and I’d do it whether or not it sold books, but it’s also not exactly easy to scale. I can only maintain genuine friendships with so many people. 

Posting in reading groups. The books that allow self-promo are so saturated with it that nobody pays any attention. The good groups do not allow self-promo, unless it’s in the form of getting down in the comments and recommending a book on a per-person basis to people looking for a specific thing, and only then if you’re not being spammy. Again, this is time-consuming. You could spend your entire life in these groups, hand-selling books to these people, and maybe picking up a few sales. They do seem like a good place to identify trends, though, so they’re good for market research if not direct selling. 

Things I Have Not Done, But Which I Suspect Would Sell Books 

Paid promotions. The golden ticket for book sales still seems to be landing a BookBub promo. If you’re unfamiliar, this is where you price your book at 99 cents or free and then pay bookbub to include it in their deals newsletter. Bookbub is very popular and moves a lot of copies. Ideally, you want to set it up so that your cheap book is the first in a series, and people snap that up and then come back to read the rest. This requires you to have written a series. Also bookbub is expensive because these are premium ads. We’re talking hundreds of dollars for one ad. There are other book promos that are cheaper but don’t have the same buy-through rate. 

Ads on facebook/amazon. I’m only dimly familiar with the ins and outs of these ads. They can be relatively cheap, but the amount of visibility they have is tied to your budget -- so the more you can spend on a campaign, the better your performance will be. 

Calling bookstores/libraries and asking them to order. I should do this. I have not done this purely because I am a coward. 

I am not certain what more I can do to promote my books without spending money. 

I understand the “spend money to make money” concept, but I also understand the “I have a limited budget and cannot spend it willy nilly on things that still might not actually pay off, especially considering how expensive self-publishing is when you want to do it right.” 

...This post ended up in a much more bitter place than I meant for it to. Sorry. I’ll check in if I remember additional points that could be successful strategies. 

[hotchley]

Congratulations on 300 sumayyyah!! That’s a really great milestone and I totally understand why they all follow you! Could I have 🐚 for Hotch, as well as ⚔️ and 🫀 (bau as teachers) I’m so sorry if the last one is a little overwhelming, and I would definitely understand if you don’t have enough time/ don’t want to do that one!

Aah thank youu!! That’s so sweet of you as well!

🐚 and a character and i’ll write some happy headcanons

so his favourite thing about the house he buys after he retires is that he can finally have the home library he always wanted and every shelf is filled with books from every genre ever

his favourite colour is actually yellow, but being unit chief means he has to look professional so it’s not really a good idea, but Penelope knitted him a yellow scarf that he wears every year without fail

although he may not seem like it, he’s really good at giving meaningful presents and all of the team, including the BAU kids are always in awe of just how good he is- especially when some of them don’t even know what they want

one of his favourite things to do is capture the soft and domestic moments of the team because it reminds him of the reasons why they do things so he just an entire album of them (they all know he does this and subtly take photos when he’s being domestic)

he’s not an idiot, so he knows when Jack is only pretending to be asleep, but he also knows he won’t be a kid forever, so he will always carry him into the house no matter how obvious it is he’s awake

⚔️ and i’ll give you an image from my novel board that reminds me of you

I knew what image it was going to be as soon as I saw it was from you, which makes a change

Because you like Pride and Prejudice, Downton Abbey and this just reminded me of being a hopeless romantic that wants to make things better and light so it was just a vibe <3

🫀 and the bau as *insert thing*

I’m doing the “Core 7″ because I... cannot be bothered to do everyone from Gideon up to Kate, I hope that’s okay!! And I only say Kate because I’m still on season 10 whoopsie 

Also, I live in England so I’m doing it based on those stereotypes (I say stereotypes, I mean I’m turning them into teachers I’ve had)

Spencer: the absolute life-saver of a chemistry teacher. It doesn’t matter what day it is, whether it’s Friday after school or Tuesday morning, he’s there to help you. Will never make you feel stupid for not understanding “basic” concepts because he gets that sometimes things just don’t click and will help you until it does, no matter how long it takes or how many different ways you need to try it. Everyone’s favourite science teacher. Sometimes gives you more detail than you need, but it is always so the thing you’re learning about makes more sense.

JJ: the P.E teacher. But not the normal P.E teacher that literally doesn’t care so long as you make some sort of effort. No, she’s the P.E teacher that also coaches the netball team, and is absolutely obsessed with netball as always. Her favourites are the girls that play netball: she’ll gossip with them, tell them to help the others and get them out of lesson whenever needed. So it’s great if you play netball, but not if you don’t.

Derek: Hehe. Okay, so he’s a design technology teacher, but the really nice one that just supports everyone with whatever it is they’re doing. Really big on safety, but not in a patronising way, in a: guys if someone gets hurt it’ll be terrible way. Everyone loves him and hopes they get him for D.T because he’s just the best. Never judges you based off your abilities, only cares about whether or not you tried and will always use his lunch break to try and salvage your project. 

Penelope: So you know how there are always two art teachers and one of them is always insane? Well, Penelope is the other art teacher that everyone genuinely loves. She really cares about the subject, but she’s not pretentious about it and she encourages the students to do whatever feels right. She loves showing the class photos of her cats, never snaps or shouts when people forgets thing and is always willing to demonstrate how to do something, no matter how many times she’s already done it before. Is an absolute angel, that always gets distracted by other more fun projects, and is definitely dating Derek.

Rossi: Your history teacher that was old enough to have actual memories of the things you’re learning about. Is a good enough teacher, but sometimes you do wonder whether you’re actually learning the stuff you need to. Is absolutely obsessed with creating debates over the smallest things, even though he always undermines the people that actually get involved. Unironically says he’s going to play devil’s advocate and definitely says some stuff he probably shouldn’t.

Emily: The french teacher that is somehow terrifying, lovely and somewhat inappropriate, all at the same time. She’s terrifying if you leave your speaking booklet at home, and if you don’t actually try and put on an accent, but will also bring in snacks for the last day of term and definitely has thousands of stories about the time she spent in France. Will destroy you if you don’t hand in your homework, or if you used google translate, but praises the people that hand it in, no matter how bad it was. Also lets you watch French films- defo makes inappropriate comments if there’s a kissing scene.

Hotch: the other history teacher that nobody really knows where they stand with because he’s a bit of a confusing character, but is deep down an absolute angel and is absolutely loved by the people he teaches. Seems to always be miserable and sad, but is actually just a front because when they like you, or when you’re nice, they get really happy and will willingly/deliberately make jokes, but not at anyone else’s expense. Is younger than the other history teacher but has no idea what pop culture is which means references go over his head. Will mark every exam question you give him way too harshly in preparation, but really does want you to do well. Will not accept people saying they’re bad at history, and is definitely the emotional support teacher for multiple people- doesn’t tell you that you’re overthinking when you cry, but will remind you that he has faith in you and is just an overall bean.

This low-key got out of hand, but I hope you liked it!!

[x-male-gn-reader]

The New Cancer

Hey, so this is the first writing I've done in a while sorry if its bad! Please lemme know if I should continue this! I'm sorry if anyone's OOC Please tell me!

This is an AU in which the trolls and humans all in together on a meteor, this includes dancestors, no one had died as well.

Kanrki walked out as he shut the door to his personal bedroom. His heels clicked as he walked to the (F/C) door that stood in the end of the hallway. Lifting his slim hand, he knocked with confidence as he waited to be allowed entry. '(Y/N) excuse me but, we are running around 3 minutes behind and the others have already arrived. I have informed them of our late departure.' The door then was opened. In the door was a rather decently dressed person. There hair was a (H/C) that stood perfectly that framed their rather captivating (E/C) eyes. The clothing of which they wore had shown their own personal color. Pulling the outfit together was a (F/C) beaded bracelet on their right wrist.

Shortly after, the two figures had left their shared home. The two walked a short distance to a small house, decorated in dark blue painted walls, with a dark violet roof. The front door was a stunning red, framed with rich green plants. Kankri held open the glass screen door as the door was flung open rather roughly. 'You guys are here! Finally, Dave they are here!' John had said as he moved to the side allowing you in. After you entered he held the glass door for Kankri before closing it. You three walked to the common room of the home. On the three seat couch was Jade and Rose. Jade was lied on two seats, playing with a small plant themed rubix cube. The dog-girls head rested on Rose's lap as Rose was reading a romance novel called 'Midnight'. Dave sat on a red bean bag chair in front of the couch. Next to Dave was a blue bean bag chair and a dark red one with a picture of a whistle on it. The last seat was the love seat. On the love seat sat a rather tall troll. He had broad shoulders and a rather soft body. He wore a black knitted sweater with a cancer symbol. They had messy short black hair, on top stood two small nubby horns. The trolls face was painted with a snarl as their eyes lifted up to yours. Their scarlet red eyes softened and their snarl broke into a much softer look.

'Earth to kitkat, well, Alternia to kitkat.' Dave said as he flicked the trolls leg. 'Agh! Dammit stupid Strider what do you want!' The troll shouted as he glared at the blond that had previously broken him out of his daze. 'Wassup kankels and my fellow (nickname)' Dave asked as he leaned back into this beanbag. 'Hello guys! Who is this?' You questioned as you walked over to sit in a beanbag, only to notice that they were taken. You decided to be brave and sit next to the new troll. Slowly sitting down you decide to start a conversation, as everyone else was talking. 'Hi! I'm (Y/N), you must be the troll Kankri told me about. Karkat is it?' You asked as he turned to you. Your eyes widened as you examined his face. Karkat's face was decorated in small red/gray freckles. 'Y-Yeah, So how have you been dealing with these bulgemonglers this entire time?' Karkat asked as he shifted slightly to face you.  'When you live in the same hallway as Righteous Tights, it seems everyone is a bit less hectic.' You said as Karkat's hand slaps onto his mouth, You start to chuckle as Karkat tries to keep in his laugh but can't as he lets out a roar of laughter. This catches everyones attention as they look over in confusion. 'I don't think I've ever seen Karkat laugh like that' 'Me neither.' Everyone slowly turned back to their conversations as Karkat calmed down. You looked into his eyes, a mischievous glint in your eyes. 'Oh jegus what is wrong with you?' Karkat  asked as you lean over to his ear. Karkat's face grows a bit red but he lets you whisper to him. 'Do you wanna sneak out?' You asked before leaning back, so quick that when Kankri looks over he deems nothing is triggering so he continues talking to Rose. 'How the h3ll are we gonna do that?' Karkat huffs out. 'Watch." you respond as you stand up and take Karkat's hand. You begin to walk to the hallway where the bedrooms are, only to be stopped.

'You two are going where?' Kankri asked as he stood behind the both of you.  'Hey Kanks! I was taking Karkat to Dave's husktop setup! I wanna introduce Karkat to my friend but I left my husktop.' You said calmly as Karkat's face stiffened with masked hope as he prayed to gog their was no lecture. Kankri gave you an odd look, before his face melted into a warm smile. 'Ok then dear, but as a request please tell Porrim that the get together is going fantastic!' He said as he decended back to hi sbeanbag to talk about human romance compared to troll romance. 'Karkat let out a hefty sigh as he looked at you in disbelief 'How-' 'Don't question it' You interrupted as you quickly lead Karkat into Dave's room. Openeing the window you hopped outside, followed by Karkat. 'My  gog I though we would suffer one of his infamous lectures.' Karkat sighed in relief as he walked your form wander off to the street next to the house.

He slowed as he watches how graceful you walked, how you glided across the ground in front of him. How stunning you looked to him. No no Karkat control yourself! You can't start to gain flushed feelings for someone you just met! Even if they are charming, and their skin looks so smooth, and their hair looked perfect for you to run your hands through. Karkat shook his head as he ran to catch up with you. Little did he know, you were suffering the same thoughts.

[byronmuyimbwa]

20 Ideas To Help You Keep Your Livelihood During Quarantine

 So you’re in quarantine. You do not know what day of the week it is anymore, because you wake up only to sleep again. You just want to take a nap, after a long day of sitting around.

Come on fam, don’t be that guy.

You’re tired of watching the news, you’ve exhausted your play list and you have completed your Netflix list. There are still plenty of things to do. I’ve got you covered.

20 fun ideas/ways to maintain your livelihood.

1.       Do a Challenge

There are fun challenges going around on social media every other day, pick one you like (make sure you’re good at it). Scratch that; just have fun with it. What have you to lose?

Don’t mind the embarrassment. I mean it’s only going to be on the Internet forever. Here are some fun challenges to try.

2.       Stay Fit

It’s important to stay fit and healthy; you do not want to leave this quarantine with diabetes or some fitness related disease. One you could have avoided by just doing a few exercises. Find an online instructor, download a fitness video, stick to it, and be true to yourself.

For the first timers, be sure to warm up thoroughly before any routine and don’t push yourself too hard.

3.       Try something new

There are plenty of things to do outside your usual routine. Write a blog, create an app, write a book, do some art, learn how to play an instrument, try an on-line business, write a poem, try to rap.

Trust me you’ll have a new respect for the professionals in these different fields. And of course you’ll have fun, plus you may just be a Steve Jobs, Eric Worre, Mark Zuckerberg in the making.

4.       Plan life after

Well I hate to be the bearer of the good news, but the quarantine is ending soon, I mean it will end eventually. And when it does, you need to have planned your kickoff journey step for step. You do not want to be the snail in the race. You want to hit the ground running.

Also for recreational purposes; plan that family vacation, be intentional.

5.       Network

Connect with people. Your friends, your family, people you rarely talk to, your future workmates or business partners, people you look up to, celebrities, everyone. This is the time they’re not too occupied. You may learn something or just simply build your network.

6.       Grow Deeper in Knowledge

Read that blog, read a novel, read a magazine, read a Bible, read the TV remote manual, read the instructions on the sanitizer bottle, just read or watch a documentary.

Knowledge is power and it is satisfactory to know that you’re smarter than you were just a moment ago. No need to thank me.

7.       Know the back-story

Don’t you ever get curious about the most weird topics; like why is shoe polish black or how a TV came to be or why dinosaurs no longer exist or why that is your favourite movie of all time. What is the back-story? This is good a time as any to find out.

8.       Your own version

Make your own version of the harry potter novel series, try the moon walk or the nae nae and add your own spin on it, cover your favourite song, re-create the Monalisa, your favourite scene from the Avengers movie. Have fun, but be careful.

9.       In door games

Luddo, playing cards, chess, checkers, monopoly, snakes and ladders, indoor hide and seek, charades. The possibilities are end-less, you can even invent your own game. And if you’re home alone, try online games.

10.   Volunteer

Apply to organisations like VSO and be of good service to your community. Of course while following the safety measures provided by W.H.O and not breaking curfew. You can even be recruited as an E-volunteer. You can offer your skills and help the global community without leaving home.

Donating, sharing food and supplies to people in need is also one effective and important way you could volunteer. Big shout out to everyone doing this.

11.   Get Creative

Try a new recipe, do some DIY life hacks, do some art, make a dance routine, write code, knit a face mask, learn how to make a sanitizers or just soap, try new things, you may be surprised that you actually were or can get really good at something  you had just never tried.

This could also be one way to channel your emotions, and it’s definitely therapeutic.

 12.   Pray

Get down on your knees and pray. Be thankful that you’re still alive, but do not take it for granted. This is a wakeup call. PRAY!

13.   Solve a problem

Fathers, mothers, siblings, you have been successfully dodging the responsibility of helping your child, kid sister, or nephew with math home-work. There’s nowhere to run now, you might as well just dive in. Good luck!

14.   Do some chores

Husband, brother, uncle, working mother, step mother, student in boarding school; you’ve been dodging chores for quite a while now. The jig is up mate, just get to work. There’s so much to do; sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, slashing, washing dishes, doing the laundry, cleaning bathrooms, dusting, cooking . Wait on second thought; you should leave cooking to the pro’s ok.

15.   Deep clean your home

You know that kind of cleaning mother always makes you do when her in-laws are visiting the next day or right before Christmas, or right when you get your holidays. If you don’t, this is the time to find out.

Do some general cleaning; (de-clutter, re-organise, scrub, re-paint, and remove that cob-web). It should be fun.

16.   Talk to a loved one

This is the time to constantly check on the people closest to you. Make sure they’re safe and carrying on good. Send them a word of encouragement (SPEAK LIFE).  Help them out if you can.

If you’re in need, reach out to your loved ones, there’s no shame in survival. This is a life or death situation.

17.   Shoot your shot

Gents, you know that lady, the one that drives you crazy, the one you’ve never worked up the courage to go talk to. This is it, don’t wait. Ladies, there’s that one brother that is always allegedly too busy for you, well thank heavens he has no excuse now. Go for it. I mean, what have you to lose?  “If you die you die”.

18.   Throw-back

This is the best time to set up a slide-show (pictures, videos, recordings) and some good music; sit together as a family and journey through all those memories. The fun times, embarrassing times, triumphant times, emotional times, celebrations, losses. These are all important because they lead up to who you are now.

19.   Leave a mark

Write a book, an article, a blog, a song, invent a new sewing technique, create a master piece (art), play the guitar like no one ever has. Let this period be an inspiration to you. Let the world, your descendants or even just your grand children remember you for something you created during the lockdown (Covid 19). I mean all great innovators start somewhere right.

20.   What’s your take

I mean I know I promised y’all 20 ideas, but we all know there’s a lot more. And I do not want to make this blog one long boring grandma story, so I’ll just pass y’all the ball. For any ideas, tips and additions visit my comment section.

If I’ve been of any help to someone you’re welcome.

Shout outs!

To all the Health workers fighting at the fore-front of this pandemic, I salute you. The scientists working everyday towards getting a cure, the generous people donating and sharing something in their different capacities and capabilities, the governments making the crucial decisions to guide every sector accordingly, the volunteers reaching out to the communities globally at the local level, the security force making sure we maintain order where there should be panic and fear, the local food delivery guy and every single person helping out in any and every way they can; we’re thankful and grateful. You’re the real heroes. May God Bless You.

#STAY POSITIVE #STAY SAFE

by  ByronMuyimbwa on 24rd April 2020

[thislassishooked]

Wake Me Up Inside (2/?)

Hi lovely readers! Here we get some cute cs interaction. You’ll also be getting brief glimpses of some familiar friends. Once again I’d like to thank my lovely beta @resident-of-storybrooke and my enormously talented artist @tennant-the-tigger as well as the moderators of this awesome event @cssns. For those of you that haven’t read ch 1 follow either one of the links below. I’m fairly certain that they work, but I am still getting the hang of this.

Fair warning, this story will earn its M rating in later chapters for language, violence and sexual content. Thanks for reading!

Ch1   AO3

Emma was running late as usual. She scrambled to throw on a green fitted cable knit sweater and a pair of skinny jeans, before running her fingers through her hair and dashing out the door of her on-campus apartment.

The aroma as she approached her favorite morning stop-off was too tempting and she climbed the stairs and slipped in hoping the early morning crowd had tapered off. The day that Benet’s Café wasn’t packed full of frazzled students and pretentious professors would surely be the day the world ended. She managed to catch the attention of one of the baristas she knew well enough to call a friend and he nodded after she gave him her best pleading eyes. As she waited she couldn’t resist the urge to catch a glimpse of Kings College Chapel from the balcony of the second story café. The sun was rising from behind the tall steeples and the view was stunning as always.

“Cinnamon hot chocolate!” a voice boomed out from behind the counter and pulled her from her momentary escape from reality. There were two identical to-go cups waiting side by side on the counter and as she approached them, a man in a leather jacket snatched one up and began making his way through the crowd to the exit. Emma examined the cup left behind and called to the stranger.

“Hey wait!” she slipped between several bodies trying to catch up to him. “That’s mine!” she called again. He stopped then and held the cup up to read the name scrawled across it. They had reached a less packed area and she was thankful for it. The hot chocolate thief turned around to face her and she suddenly felt the air leave her lungs. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. His nearly black, windswept hair looked messy yet soft. She had the sudden desire to touch the strands that fell artfully over his forehead to find out if her assumption was correct. Her eyes trailed down to his dark scruff that glinted with just a hint of red in the rays of the morning sun. That of course led her to ogle his full lips that were curling into a knowing smile and suddenly she realized that she was staring with her mouth agape. Her cheeks warmed quickly as the embarrassment caused her face to flush. She closed her mouth and dropped her eyes which was a mistake as soon as she caught sight of his obviously toned chest. She snapped her green eyes to his face again and, oh god, two deep blue sapphire gems were settled beneath his prominent eyebrows, one of which cocked into a discernible arch.

“Apologies lass,” he looked at the messy writing across the cup and held it out to her, “a lovely name for an even lovelier woman.”

She felt the air in her lungs return and smiled ever so slightly at his cheeky sentiment. “Actually, in this case, I think your name is the lovely one.” She exchanged drinks with him and had to hold back laughter when his faced screwed into a bewildered frown. Written clearly across the top read the name LILLIAN.

“Killian” he muttered to no one in particular, placing a clear emphasis on the K. “With a K, is that so bloody difficult to understand?”

Emma let a small giggle escape her lips and his face immediately softened. “Well K-illian,” she imitated, “it was a pleasure, but I’m very late.” They reached the wrought iron stairs and walked down together.

“Where do you need to go?” he asked.

“Oh, only the other side of campus in…” she looked at her watch and panic spread across her features, “five minutes.”

“I can get you there in two.” He motioned to a motorcycle parked just a few feet away.

She bit her lip and looked from him to the bike then back to him.

“Not much of a bike enthusiast, Swan?”

The use of her surname from this handsome stranger caught her off guard. She surmised that he must have read the name on her cup, which only confused her more because Will always called her Emma. “It’s not the bike that I’m weary of Mr…?”

“Jones.” He filled in. “Killian Jones.” He held out his hand to greet her properly.

She locked eyes with him for a moment and forgot that they had only just met. “Emma Swan,” she responded and took his offered hand in hers.

His smile widened at the mention of her full name, putting his perfect, pearly whites on full display. He cocked his head toward his bike, “shall we?” His expression morphed into something hopeful and she could swear she saw a flash of insecurity behind his slightly arrogant facade.

Her resolve to never accept rides from strangers was overruled by her desire to make it to her meeting on time. It had absolutely nothing to do with his attractiveness. A huge toothy grin graced his face as she stepped off the curb toward his bike. He handed her the helmet and swung his leg over the body. Once seated, he motioned for her to do the same. The slightest bit of doubt crossed her mind and she bit her lip once more, but worked to secure the helmet, swinging her leg over to straddle the bike as well. As he started the engine she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist and she could swear she felt him shudder a bit.

“Hold on darling,” he breathed before kicking the bike into gear.

The other side of campus was just over a mile from the café making it a short ride. She had shouted instructions to him on the way over, but gathered that he was quite familiar with the campus judging by his smooth, calculated moves. She took the opportunity to breath in his scent when her nose was just inches from his neck. He smelled like spice and leather and for a split second she wondered how he tasted. Silently chastising herself, she loosened her grip on him and prepared to jump off as they rolled to a stop in from of the Institute for Medical Research. Still a little unsteady, she planted both feet on the curb and turned to hand him the helmet. She gazed a second too long at his beautiful eyes, uttered a hushed thank you and booked it to her meeting. She didn’t give him a chance to respond.

____________________

Killian watched her disappear through the secure steel doors and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He couldn’t believe the hot chocolate swap worked, smirking when he remembered the way she raked her gorgeous emerald eyes over him. He became lost in her gaze when her traveling eyes locked with his. The smirk morphed into a full, goofy grin as he recalled the blush that crept across her cheeks, spreading to the tips of her ears and down her neck. And gods above, the sensation of her arms wrapped around him sent an electric shock through his entire body. He blinked hard and shook his head to break himself out of his trance. Get a grip Jones. Having put the bike in gear, he coasted through the winding streets of the campus while he planned their next “Accidental” meeting.

____________________

Being on time was a novel experience for Emma and judging by the amount of raised eyebrows in her direction, completely unexpected by her coworkers. The conference room was still empty meaning “on time” actually meant “early” so she had time to gather her wits about her. She was still quite flustered from her rather unusual morning. She was acting like a teenager with a crush. A crush on a man with whom she interacted for a mere five minutes. Get it together, Swan.

Her small audience was now trickling in, her nerves calming a bit as Mary Margaret, her best friend and confidant, entered and closed the door behind her. Emma meticulously laid out the results of the research that had consumed an entire year of her life. When she was finished, the head of the department asked her to wait outside the room while they discussed the fate of her tenure.

Twenty minutes later, Mary Margaret poked her head through the door to signal Emma to come in. One look at her tentative smile told Emma all she needed to know.

“I’m sorry Miss Swan, your work is impressive, but there is simply no market for a Porphyria cure.” The rug being pulled out from beneath her hadn’t been completely unexpected. Pharmaceutical companies would never want to invest in a one-time injection that would cure a patient with a chronic disease. The current treatment for Cutaneous Porphyria included a cocktail of drugs as well as a phlebotomy repeated at regular intervals until the disease goes into remission.

“The drug isn’t just meant to cure a patient suffering from symptoms, it can also be preventative. Anyone with the defective gene could get the injection and the disease would remain latent.” Her resolve to keep her emotions in check dissipated as memories came flooding back of the pain in her grandfather’s eyes. She blinked hard and took a calming breath before continuing. “Insurance companies love preventative medicine ergo big pharma will love this drug.” She was staring daggers at the head of the committee, silently goading her to challenge her assertion. The woman was the definition of “frigid bitch”, her dark eyes and dark hair matching her soul, but she knew a good investment when she saw it and she would do anything to keep her department well funded and distinguished. “My research has revealed that altered forms of this drug can also be used to treat several different types of anemia, hemophilia, deep venous thrombosis as well as multiple forms of lymphoma.”

Regina Mills crossed her arms as she considered the determined blonde. “You make a strong case Miss Swan. I’ll pass your research on to the board and they will let you know within the week if your tenure at this institution will be extended.” Her superior stood, signaling the end of the proceedings and everyone except Mary Margaret and Emma shuffled out the door.

“Oh, my god Emma, that was amazing!” Mary Margaret chirped.

Still coming down from an adrenaline high, Emma shook her head before responding to her beaming friend. “I feel sick,” was all she could muster.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and get some air? You can’t do anything in the lab until you get the go-ahead from Regina, which you will…” Her friend looked pointedly at her, waiting for any sign that Emma believed her. A half smile pulled at the corner of her lips and Mary Margaret was satisfied with that.

After gathering everything into her bag, she breezed out of the conference room with a new air of confidence. Mary Margaret accompanied her outside and gave her a reassuring hug then bounded back in. Emma felt a little tinge of jealousy, but just took a deep breath and accepted that she had a few days of forced vacation and she was going to damn well make the best of it.

____________________

She was smiling. It wasn’t the shy grin that she had given him at the café, but a genuine elated smile. The shorter woman with the dark pixie haircut and an equally wide grin had just left her side and Killian found his own proud grin widening. He spied from his place on the bench that she fortunately was headed in his direction. She was practically beaming and it was in sharp contrast to her earlier mood. She pulled some almonds from her messenger bag and started nibbling when Killian was struck with an idea. He desperately wanted to get to know the riddle that was Emma Swan and not just because it was requested of him. As she approached the bench, too lost in thought to notice him, Killian quickly grabbed a discarded copy of the Cambridge Student and unfolded it to the science section. He may have been trying to impress her just a little bit.

“How did it go?” he asked nonchalantly.

She stopped dead in her tracks and glanced in his direction. Her eyes were impossibly more effervescent than they had been just hours ago. Her brows furrowed in confusion and although it was adorable, he felt inclined to clarify.

“Whatever it was that you were late for this morning, how did it go?”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, seemingly in an attempt to gain some composure.

“It went… well, really, really well.” She looked to be fighting back a smile, but gave in to the overwhelming glee that was bursting to the surface.

Killian returned her smile, unable to resist the urge.

“Glad to hear it, love.”

She blushed at his use of that particular term of endearment. Deciding he liked the pink hue that he could elicit from her with it, he committed that bit of info to memory.

“What are you reading?” she asked, breaking him out of his musing.

He glanced at the paper he had been pretending to be engrossed in and panicked when he realized he had no idea. A picture of some monkeys and a headline about brain implants combating paralysis graced the front page. Before he could embarrass himself she sat down next to him and read the headline for herself.

“Ooh, isn’t that amazing? I know it’ll be several years before human trials are considered, but it looks promising.”

“Aye…” he stammered. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was close enough for him to catch the scent of cinnamon and apples that reminded him of warm apple pie.

“And can you believe they used alien technology found on Mars to do it?”

His eyes darted back to the article.

“Wha... yeah.” he stalled. He was speechless. Then he heard her chuckling and he realized his ruse had not fooled her. It was his turn to blush. He set the paper aside and turned to face her, not even trying to hide his wide grin. She was smirking at him, her eyes filled with mirth. He took a moment to study her face a little closer. He took note of the small cluster of light brown freckles that danced across her cheekbones and merged along the bridge of her nose. A few strands of golden tendrils of hair had loosened from her hair-tie and were swaying in the slight breeze. She reached up and tucked the mutinous locks behind her right ear and Killian’s hand itched to do the same to her left side.

“So…” she began, bashfully focusing on her feet. “Are you going to tell me why you’re outside my building pretending to read the school newspaper?”

Her gaze abruptly snapped back to his and he suddenly felt exposed. Her eyes were searching his and for a moment Killian couldn’t speak. He exhaled through his nose and recalled the anecdote that his father had instructed him to use if necessary.

“I’m a guest lecturer, maritime archaeology.” He couldn’t look at her out of, what, shame? He had told many lies in his long life, but for some reason it felt wrong to lead her astray.

Her eyes widened at his revelation. “That sounds fascinating. So you literally hunt for buried treasure?”

“Aye, love. Sunken naval ships, lost cities…”

“Pirates?” she interrupted.

He paused to consider the hopeful expression on her face.

“Aye” he stated simply. “May I inquire as to your rather obvious enthusiasm on the subject?”

She bit her lip and just a hint of blush crept into the apple of her cheek.

“I’ve always just… had… a thing for pirates.”

Killian couldn’t help the salacious grin that overtook his mouth at her words. He made a mental note to thank his father for giving him such an incredible lead-in with this bloody brilliant woman. She punched him playfully in the shoulder, clearly blaming him for making her feel embarrassed.

“Okay sir, time to even the playing field.”

“Pardon?”

She huffed and mischievously folded her arms.

“You know one of my dirty, little secrets, so let’s hear one of yours.”

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. He heard her breathing hitch as he huskily whispered, “I am happy to divulge every… last… one… of my dirty little secrets to you anytime, love.” He leaned back and winked. She was now sufficiently covered in a much deeper shade of blush.

____________________

He winked, the bastard actually winked. Every time she thought she had the upper hand on him, he found a way to tip the scales and make her blush. She wasn’t very skilled at flirting and his stupidly handsome face was not helping. The fact that he was knowledgeable in nautical history made him that much more attractive. Hell, he even resembled a pirate.

Just then, when it seemed all sound had ceased and all she could hear was the blood pumping in her ears, her stomach let out a loud growl. Damn traitorous organ. His eyes trailed down to her belly, hovered there for a moment then snapped back to hers. His lips curled at the corners of his perfect mouth and Emma impulsively ran her tongue along her bottom lip. She couldn’t help the hunger in her stomach anymore than she could help her hunger for him . God, she was like a teenager in heat. After what seemed like hours, he broke the silence.

“Have you had anything to eat today, besides hot chocolate and those almonds?” he asked nodding at her baggie.

All she could do was shake her head. The last thing that had been on her mind that morning was adding “fuel” to her nervous belly. She would have surely vomited all over the committee had she eaten anything.

He stood, holding out his hand.

“Come on then, I know a place that serves a killer grilled cheese.”

She looked at him hesitantly. Her mouth watered at the prospect of her favorite guilty pleasure, but she had no idea who this man really was.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about pirates,” he promised after noticing her internal battle.

She took his hand and let him lead the way.

____________________

The moans of pleasure escaping from her occupied mouth were making Killian have to shift in his chair. He had barely touched his own food, unwilling to take his eyes off of her as she scarfed down the gourmet grilled cheese.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed as she finished her last bite. She glanced at him and suddenly that lovely rouge returned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go ‘full Sally’ on you.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Full Sally, love?”

She chuckled and clarified. “When Harry Met Sally. It’s a great movie with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal and there’s a scene in which Sally demonstrates how to fake an orgasm while eating her lunch.” The blush got deeper.

“Is that what that was?” he asked, raising one eyebrow in amusement. “Tell me love, was it as good for you as it was for me?” He lasciviously glided his tongue over his bottom lip.

“The sandwich was delicious,” she teased.

He smirked at her boldness. Would this woman ever stop surprising him? God, he hoped not.

The lunch rush was starting to die down in the quaint little bakery. They were nestled in a quiet corner, the smell of Fitzbillies’ famous sticky buns wafting toward them. Killian noticed Emma eyeing the sweet treats as they were being placed on the counter. He signaled to the waiter with two fingers and the waiter nodded his head knowingly. Emma smiled in appreciation.

“I believe I was promised tales of swashbuckling seafarers.”

“That you were, love. What would you like to know? Where Captain Morgan hid his bootlegged rum? How on earth Blackbeard thought he looked dashing with lice infested tentacles hanging from his jaw?”

“Tell me about Calico Jack.”

Her request caught him off-guard. He was momentarily stunned into silence. She must have noticed his hesitance so she cautiously continued.

“I’m sorry, y…you said I could ask anything. If I crossed some sort of line…”

“You did nothing wrong lass,” he interrupted with a weak smile to ease the tension. Relief washed over her face. “I just wasn’t expecting you to ask about old Jack. His is a complicated tale.” He considered her for a moment, noting the glint in her eyes that threw him for a loop. “Before I begin, do you mind if I ask why you’re interested in hearing about him, specifically?”

A trace of sadness befell her delicate features and he wondered if he had crossed some sort of line. It was gone a second later, replaced by something reminiscent of awe.

“My grandfather used to tell me stories about him. I don’t know how many were true, probably none, but his tales of Calico Jack, ‘the only pirate captain with honor,’” she emphasized with air quotes, “are my favorite memories of him.”

Killian’s mouth fell open. Emma’s grandfather was extremely persistent in getting him to reveal his true identity once he had learned of Killian’s vow through his own relentless research. He could tell instantly that Emma shared that same trait with him. The two had formed a secret friendship that had immediately come to a halt after the death of his daughter and her husband. The guilt was overwhelming at times. He nodded his head, urging her to continue as he struggled to gain some composure.

“I guess a lot of his obsession with Jack stems from the fact that my 7th great-grandfather was the man who sentenced him to death.”

He was, of course, aware of her lineage, but feigned his surprise as best he could

“Making you the 10th direct descendant of Governor Woodes Rogers.”

She nodded, smiling weakly.

Killian ran his fingers through his hair.

“Why don’t we start with what you already know so that I don’t end up rattling off specifics you’ve heard before.”

“Alright, I know that his given name was John Rackham, born December 26, 1682, died November 18, 1720. He was responsible for designing the Jolly Roger flag that eventually became synonymous with all pirates. And of course, he sailed with two female crew members, Anne Bonny and Mary Read.”

Killian struggled to keep his face neutral at the mention of Anne and Mary. If he were going to be convincing as a historian he would have to keep his emotions in check.

“Is that all, love?”

“No, but I’d like to ask some question first. See where your answers take this little inquiry.”

“Fire away.”

Emma paused for a moment, no doubt pondering her first question. After a moment she opened her mouth, about ready to speak when the sticky buns were delivered to their table. He could see the bun was tempting her to hold off on questioning him, but she managed to pry her eyes away from the desert and focus them on his.

“Why did Rackham turn to piracy? There’s no record of his life before 1718. In fact, his birth date is just speculation. Who was he?”

“That is an excellent question Emma, one that no historian could possibly answer.”

Emma’s face fell. She let out a defeated sigh and shrugged.

“It is a question that only a pirate can answer, and you happen to be in the presence of the most devilishly handsome one of all.”

He winked again and Emma suddenly started turning her head in all directions, mock confusion written all over her face.

“Where?” she asked teasingly. He snorted at both her playful wit, and the irony of the situation. He gave her a good-humored glower and waited for her snickering to die down.

“I can confirm that birthdays were of no consequence to working men 300 years ago. John was also an orphan so the exact day of his birth remains a mystery. He claimed to be 37 at the time of his death so 1682 is a plausible birth year.”

Emma began picking pieces from her sticky bun while keeping eye contact. Killian took that as an indication to continue.

“As I mentioned, John was an orphan, grew up in the poorest orphanage in London. When he was 13 he met a boy two years his junior who was recently orphaned and the two formed an unbreakable bond.”

“What was the boy’s name?”

“I can’t recall,” Killian lied.

Emma nodded and gestured with her hand for him to go on.

“Once John turned 16 he left the orphanage, taking his best mate with him. They both enlisted in the British Royal Navy, believing that serving King and Country would lead to a better life,” Killian scoffed. “They worked hard, moving up in rank, but life at sea was grueling. Sailors were dying everyday from treatable ailments, but it was easier and cheaper to just throw the poor lads overboard once dead and replace them.”

Emma stopped nibbling. A mix of horror and sympathy washed over her face.

“John and his mate…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma interrupted, holding up her hand. “We have to give his friend a name. It feels wrong to leave him nameless.”

Killian regarded her for a moment, struck by the amount of compassion she held for two sailors from long ago.

“I think that is quite appropriate, love. What name do you propose?”

“How about James, or just Jim? That was my grandfather’s name,” she suggested sheepishly.

Killian couldn’t have smiled any wider.

“I’m sure if John’s friend was alive today, he would feel honored to have such a name bestowed upon him.” Killian noticed a slight glistening in her eyes.

“So, you were saying…” she encouraged with a flick of her wrist.

“John and Jim sailed with the Navy for 18 years until an incident that would change the course of both their lives.” He paused to collect his thoughts before resuming. “By the summer of 1716, John had risen to the position of Commander; Jim was one rank below him as lieutenant.”

At that moment a thought occurred to Killian. Emma had only agreed to lunch after he had promised to regale her with stories of pirates. He wasn’t willing to risk losing the carrot that he was currently dangling in front of her face. After a few more seconds of silent contemplation, Emma interjected.

“Killian?”

“Apologies, lass, I was just thinking that perhaps I would save the rest of the story for next time.”

Her eyes dropped from his and for a moment he was worried that she had taken offense. When her lovely green orbs met his again they were unreadable.

“Next time?” she challenged. “I don’t remember adding you to my list of things to do.” Emma immediately flushed bright red at the accidental innuendo and Killian arched his eyebrow salaciously. “That came out wrong, can we just hit the rewind button?”

“As you wish,” he promised with a genuine smile. He decided to risk everything on the slim chance that she enjoyed spending time with him as much as he did with her.

“Well I insist that you check your list again. I believe that you’ll find ‘go sailing with Killian’ scheduled for September 21 st .”

He held his breath while he waited for her inevitable refusal. She continued to stare at him, searching his eyes. Killian started to regret having been so forward with this woman he just met hours ago. He just prayed he hadn’t mucked it all up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Okay.”

Killian immediately lost his train of thought. He wasn’t sure if he heard her correctly.

“Okay?” he asked still completely flabbergasted.

“On one condition,” she said holding up her index finger.

“Anything.”

She took a deep breath, trying to look very serious, but failing adorably.

“You have to promise you wont murder me and throw my body overboard. Things are finally starting to look up for me and I don’t need you to fuck it all up by going full psycho-killer on me and chopping me into little bits.”

Killian couldn’t help the full belly laugh that erupted from him.

“Don’t worry, love, I would never chop you into little bits on my ship. It would be far too messy.”

She let out a breathy chuckle. They spent a few more minutes working out the details for the next day before parting ways.

“Until next time , Swan.” Killian took her hand in his and lowered his lips to her knuckles, brushing a light kiss upon them. He could hear her breath hitch at the contact.

“Until tomorrow,” she said with a shy smile.

____________________

Balancing her leftovers in one hand, keys in the other and a couple of bags of groceries hanging off of her arms, Emma managed to unlock her apartment door and practically fell in. She kicked the door shut and then threw everything onto her kitchen table before letting out an exaggerated sigh.

What had she just gotten herself into? She just agreed to go sailing with a man she just met this morning. An extremely sexy, roguish, hey I just met you, but I want to jump your bones, man. She shook her head from the insanity of it all, but she couldn’t seem to shake the ridiculous grin off of her face.

She began to put her groceries away when she suddenly realized she had forgotten to ask Killian what to wear. She had never been sailing before, but what she did know is that it could get pretty windy. They had exchanged contact information and Emma’s eyes drifted to her phone. If she was going to talk to him again she was going to need a little bit of liquid courage first. She pulled the bottle of Captain Morgan spiced rum out of one of her grocery bags and smiled at the fact that it reminded her of him. Pouring herself a generous amount she reached for her phone. He answered on the second ring.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your angelic voice this evening, love?”

Really? The man could effectively put the word “charisma” to shame. She struggled for a moment to find her own words.

“I’m calling because I have no idea what I should wear tomorrow.”

She could practically hear him smirking, undoubtedly tempted to suggest no clothes at all.

“A light sweater and jeans should suffice.”

“Where exactly are we going? The nearest port is an hour East.”

“Aye, my ship is docked in Maldon.”

Emma audibly gasped. She had always wanted to visit the historic town.

“That sounds amazing,” she squeaked out.

“I don’t mean to pry, love, but is there something else on your mind?”

He was very perceptive. There was a lot on her mind actually.

“It’s just that… this is all new to me. The Emma from yesterday would have shut you down without thinking twice about it. She would have gone hungry rather than have lunch with an attractive stranger. She would sabotage any opportunity for adventure, missing out on so much because of her incessant tunnel vision. Her life was centered around one thing and now…”

“And now…?” he encouraged.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad I took a chance on you.”

“So am I, love. To be honest, I was convinced you would find me just a tad bit…”

“Arrogant?” she sniggered.

“Ah, I was going to say overconfident, but that works too. I was very pleasantly surprised you did give me that chance, Swan.”

She wasn’t sure if the warmth radiating through her body was from the liquor or the lulling lilt of his accented voice.

“Just don’t make me regret that decision sailor.”

He chuckled softly. “I promise you lass, tomorrow will, without a doubt, be a day you will not soon forget. Sailing is bliss, to put it simply. And I happen to know that the Captain is a dashing rapscallion with an avid sense of adventure.”

“More like a scoundrel,” she laughed. “Goodnight, Killian”

“Sweet Dreams, Emma.”

[lgbt-ya]

Recent wlw reads

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The Deepest Breath by Meg Grehan* -  Reader, I cried. This is a heartwarming, emotional look at a very young girl realising she likes girls and trying to tell her mum, the person she trusts most in the world. It made me cry and feel the biggest love for the human race. Meg's writing is so beautiful and flows like water.

The True Queen (Sorcerer Royal #2) by Zen Cho -  I've been anticipating this book for a long time, since loving the first in the series, Sorcerer to the Crown, and it lived up to all my expectations! The new characters were so brilliant, and seeing what my old favourites are up to was just lovely. This series feels so original and new, with the Malaysian take on Regency romances. Shout out to the Wodehouse dragon, too.

Proper English by K.J. Charles - I would die for K J Charles!! I love everything she writes, and as she's a very reliable author (she publishes a new novel every few months) I am a very happy reader. If you like your romance to be part thriller, part horror, part murder mystery, part magical adventure, then check out literally any one of K J Charles' books, because they're all perfect.

Knit One, Girl Two by Shira Glassman -  Very sweet, and I loved learning more about knitting subscription boxes and Jewish traditions, alongside a very sweet body positive romance! Really short but very well written.

* Gifted by the publisher

[faithtrustkookiecrust]

The Muse

PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

GENRE: Romance, fluff

WORD COUNT: 6,4k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hello. I am very excited to share my first BTS AU story! English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if you come across any errors. Feel free to leave me some constructive criticism. Enjoy. x

DESCRIPTION: You’re a teacher by day, aspiring writer by night. You like to keep yourself within your own bubble. One day a new neighbor moves in and disturbs your peace. It is the art student, Taehyung. One night he knocks on your door. He’s got an art assignment and his muse cancelled on him in the last minute... Now he’s in desperate need of a new muse. 

You never did pay much attention to your neighbors. Neither did your neighbors seem to pay much attention to you. Everybody was busy with their own lives. Every once in a while you could hear a door opening and closing, footsteps coming from the staircase or from the flat above you. You lived in a small, old apartment building and didn't think much of the noises from the people sharing it with you. Until one day.

It was Saturday morning and you were enjoying your peace and quiet. You were sitting on the couch with a lovely, warm cup of tea in one hand and a book you’ve finally started to read in the other. You rarely had mornings like this. As a teacher by day and an aspiring writer by night, you were always way too tired and stressed out in the mornings to sit down and have a little ”me time” before heading off to work. You usually woke up too late and only had time to wash up, brush your hair, brush your teeth and grab a quick piece of toast or a fruit on your way out to catch the bus to the school where you worked. Having a calm morning felt great for your body, mind and soul. You were absorbed in the moment and focused on reading the book in front of you so that you could completely leave your living room and escape to the land of fantasy that was hidden in a corner of your mind.

Suddenly a loud bang echoed in the walls. So much for your quiet reading time, you thought to yourself. Since the noise was followed by other loud, annoying sounds, you decided to put your book down and find the source of all the destruction. You tip toed to your front door and looked through the peep-hole. You were usually a bit shy and didn’t like to interfere with other people’s business, but at the same time, you shared the curiosity level of the seven year olds you taught at school. You just had to know what was going on in your building. On the other side of the door, there were figures and voices filling up the staircase. They were lifting furnitures upstairs. New neighbors. How exciting. Or was it exciting? You didn’t really know your old neighbors to begin with. The only one you knew by name, was a little lovely lady called Mrs Kwan who lived on the first floor. She always greeted you with a big smile and you were even genuinely interested in hearing how her cats’ day were going. You had hardly met or seen the other people living in the building. Until now. You held your breathe as you tried to eavesdrop.

”Watch out, Kook!” a man shouted.

”I can’t see where I’m going! You have to move faster, Jimin-ssi!” the other man responded.

The two men were trying to carry a big mattress up the narrow staircase. Suddenly they dropped it down carefully to rest.

”This is really heavy, Tae! You should come here and help us carry it!” one of the guys shouted to a third person downstairs.

”I’m carrying my boxes of photographs! Plus the staircase is way too narrow for all the three of us at the same time!” a man’s voice replied from the bottom floor.

”Photographs! If I’ve known you’d only carry your delicate photos, I’m not sure I’d agreed to this.” the guy called ”Kook” exclaimed. He was on the bottom side of the mattress, holding it and trying to keep it from falling down.

”It’s your bed for crying out loud. We’re helping you move. Give us some slack.” said the other guy.

”And you’re both my friends, that I love so dearly. Now please move on. We can’t stand here all day! I have to return the van in an hour. We don’t have time to argue. Chop chop!”

You had to hold in a giggle as you observed the two guys cursing and once again lifting the mattress to take it upstairs. You’d offer to help, but was crippled by the anxiety of meeting new people. You didn’t want to be in their way. Silently, you left your post at the door and returned to the safety of your couch. You put your earplugs in and started to play some calm, instrumental music to keep out the noises from the strangers. There was no way you were going to let them disturb your Saturday morning.

Your neck started to ache. What time was it? You grabbed your phone from the living room table and pressed the home button. 7:45 p.m. You had completely lost track of time. A little hungry growl filled the room. You put your nearly finished book down and let one of your hands rest on your stomach. ”I know”, you said as a response to your hungry tummy. ”I’ll see what I can find”.

You made a little quick bite to eat, some instant ramen noodles with vegetables. A lazy, delicious dish that you loved to eat. After you finished eating, you decided to rest a bit before continuing to write on your novel until the late hours of the night. Just a quick little nap and you’d be good to go.

Once again, your peace and quiet was disturbed by a loud noise. You got startled and sat up straight. How long had you been sleeping? According to your phone, the ”quick” nap had turned into a three hour long nap. You sighed as you rubbed your eyes and stretched your back and neck.

”Where did I leave my computer?” you said aloud to yourself.

You barely had time to get up before you heard another bang from upstairs. The bang had made you jump so hard that you accidentally knocked your knee into the table in front of you. You cursed out loud. If your hearing was right, so did the mumbling voice from upstairs. You couldn’t help but to smirk. At least you were not the only one having a hard time. A chill went down your spine and made you shiver, it was getting a bit cold in your apartment. As you fetched your computer from your bed, you grabbed some socks and a cozy knitted sweater that your grandma had made you years ago. Time to cozy things up and start to write! Hopefully, you’ll get another chapter down before it gets too late.

You lose yourself within your own writing bubble, as you always tend to do when writing. It’s like something takes over you body and you lose all sense of where you are at the moment. A wonderful feeling. Well, it would be wonderful if it wasn’t for the hammering sound from above. You gave a quick glance to your roof and bit your tongue. Your bubble was on the verge of being burst.

”Not now…Please, not now.” you sighed.

The hammering stopped. You waited for a few seconds, cracked your fingers and was about to continue writing when the hammering started again. An almost animalistic growl left your throat as you threw your head back by frustration. You didn’t want to lose your spark. In the corner of the computer, the digits told you it was already 11:55 p.m.

”He has got to be kidding me!”

Without a second thought, you jumped up from the bed and headed towards your door. This was not okay, he could finish his stupid hammering in the morning. Night time was a sacred thing to you. You needed it to be quiet when you were writing. You’re in such a rush that you even forget to put shoes on. Your feet are light and doesn’t make any sound as you jog upstairs. As you arrive in front of your new neighbor’s door, you stop to take a moment to breathe. What were you doing? You don’t do this. You don’t confront people or tell them off, you hide and hope that the world fixes its own problems. You hear the hammering from the other side of the door. Tonight you break the pattern. You knock on the door. The hammering stops and you hear steps coming closer to the door. Oh shit. What were you going to say? You had no time to think, as the door opened on ajar.

”Yes?” a deep voice said from the gap.

You tried to adjust your eyes to see the person.

”Yes, hi. I’m your downstairs neighbor…” you began.

The man opened the door a little bit more.

”Is that so?” he responded.

The light from behind him made it easier for you to see him. You took a little step back. He was beautiful. Really beautiful. He had dark, ash blonde hair and big brown eyes. You lost yourself in his eyes for a second before you shook your head and got your senses back together.

”Yes.” you said, a bit too stern for your liking, but you had to remind yourself that you were there for a reason. ”I just wanted to say that I would appreciate it if…”

”If you got my name? I’m Taehyung. But everyone calls me Tae.”

You started to get annoyed by the fact that he interrupted you every time you opened your mouth.

”I would appreciate it if you stopped the hammering, it’s very late and…” you started again.

”Oh, were you sleeping? I’m sorry. I’m a night owl.” Tae said.

You bit your tongue. He really has no manners.

”No, in fact, I was not sleeping. I’m writing. And I would prefer to do so in quiet, since it’s midnight!” you jerked out quickly before he had a chance to interrupt you again.

Tae closed his mouth. His eyes started to glow, and you could hint a little smirk on his face. You stared back at him. It became a starring contest. You couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at you. It was like he was observing every little detail of your face. He took a quick glance down at your feet and smiled. You looked down and realized you were standing there in just your knitted sweater, PJ shorts and socks. Not that it mattered, it was in the middle of the night.

”I was just putting up some paintings.” Tae said and used the hammer he had in his hand and pointed it to the inside of his flat. ”I’m an artist.”

”I don’t care if you’re trying to outmatch The Louvre. Please do it in the morning instead. Thanks.” you responded and took a quick turn down the stairs, before Picasso had a chance to make another clever comeback.

”I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name…” he shouted behind you.

”I didn’t give it to you. Good night!” you said as you closed the door. Finally some peace and quiet.

You hardly noticed that you had a new neighbor living upstairs from you during the following week. Work was pulling you in every direction and you’d barely had any time to write during the whole week. Or energy for that matter. You’d crashed into your couch every day after work, not wanting to leave it ever again. Teaching in a nutshell. Somehow time had flown by and suddenly it was Saturday again. Finally a whole day by yourself, your computer and your creative mind. After a couple of hours of writing, you decided to get some air and maybe a quick bite to eat. You grabbed your coat from the clothing rack, put on a warm hat and headed out. As soon as you opened the front door of the building you got blinded by the sun and had to squint your eyes to see the following steps down. Still, it was refreshing to leave your apartment and not being in a rush for work. You took a deep breath of the fresh autumn air and let it fill your lungs. What a wonderful day. The leaves in the trees were starting to change their colors from yellow to red, and the whole street looked like a painting. Painting. All of a sudden a flash of the memory of you standing in front your new neighbor’s door at midnight hit you. Wonder what he’s up to, you thought to yourself as you got into the closest coffee shop. As you left the shop with your sandwich and take away chai latte, you imagined what kind of artwork Taehyung did. Or if he was any good for that matter. Not that you’d get to find out any time soon, you reminded yourself. Keeping to yourself was your thing, and you couldn’t see a reason for that needing to change. Even if you did get more curious for every step you took closer to home. What was it with that man that made you unable to get him out of your mind?

As you entered your building, you saw Mrs Kwan on her way into her apartment with a newspaper in her hand.

”Hello, Mrs Kwan.” you greeted friendly.

”Hello, dear. How nice it is to see you!”

You smiled as a response and was about to turn away and head up the stairs when she suddenly stopped you.

”Oh, have you met the new boy yet?” she asked.

”I have run into him, yes.” you said politely, not wanting to get into details.

”You just missed him! He kindly fetched my newspaper for me. Sure is a looker, isn’t he? Single too!”

You stood kindly still and listened to her words, not wanting to interrupt her, but also a bit curious of what she had to say about your new neighbor.

”He was carrying art supplies, ready to paint and make the world a more beautiful place. I love a man who can paint. Just like my Cheng used to. I miss him dearly. I still have his paintings to keep me company. Artists are great companions, my dear. They see the beauty of everyday objects and moments that others let pass without a second glance. They value the little things. Too bad they’re penniless though. Oh well, dear, I’m not going to keep you here all day. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

”I’m actually on my way to write on my novel.” you said with a big smile.

”Ah! Two artists! Double the beauty! Now that would be something else.”

”Mrs Kwan!” you said with a surprised but friendly tone and you both started to laugh.

”Well, we’ll see.” the old lady said as she went back into her apartment and carefully closed the door again.

You couldn’t help but to smile at the kindness of her heart. Wonder what it’s like to see the world from such experienced eyes, having lived and loved a whole life time, you thought as you went upstairs and into your apartment to devour your late lunch.

As time was your enemy, the weekend passed by quickly once again. It was Sunday evening and you were sitting on your bed with your legs crossed and your computer resting on your lap. You starred at the blinking line on the page on the screen. It was waiting for you to fill it with words, but you seemed to be out of words at the moment. Your mind was too distracted for you to write. You couldn’t figure out what was the source of your distraction, so you closed the window and decided to go on Google and search for some inspirational art. Nothing seemed to work. There was no inspiration to be found. As you kept on scrolling through page after page of beautiful images, you heard a loud voice coming from the flat above. You couldn’t hear the exact words, but the voice seemed upset, almost angry.

”What is happening now?” you sighed to yourself as you scratched the back of your head. You hardly had time to give it any other thought as your eyes catched the time, it was already 10:15 p.m.

”Shit!” you exclaimed when you realized how late it was. It was time to get ready for bed, Monday morning is creeping up behind the corner and you really needed to get some sleep after a weekend of productive writing. You leapt out of bed and headed off to the bathroom. After you were done cleaning up, you once again headed back towards the bed. You also brushed your long hair, since it usually got tangled up during your sleep. Funny enough, you weren’t really that tired. Figures. You truly were an night owl. You knew you wouldn’t be able to give writing another go before bed, your brain wasn’t focused enough. You let out an annoyed whimper of frustration and boredom, but was distracted by a sudden knock on your front door. Who could possibly be knocking on your door at this hour?

You took a few sneaky steps towards the door and looked through the peep-hole. You let out a loud sigh when you realized who was standing outside. It was Tae. You carefully opened the door, leaving it on ajar.

”Yes?” you said, sounding a bit annoyed.

”How do you feel about nudity?”

Tae threw the question in your face as if he was asking something mundane as how you felt about having milk in your coffee, completely ignoring the annoyed and unwelcoming tone in your voice. You looked stunned back at him.

”Excuse me?”

Tae gave away a nervous smile. He drew his hand through his hair as he continued.

”You see, my muse has got herself an impediment, so unfortunately she couldn’t show up tonight and now I’m in a desperate need of a replacement…”

You seemed to be unable to close your mouth and continued to stare at him. What the fuck was happening?

”… I have this assignment for my art class. This was her only available date, but the assignment is due tomorrow so I’m a bit lost. Then I came to think of you, and I would truly appreciate your help. Are you willing to be painted?”

You couldn’t wrap your mind around his words. Was he speaking english?

”You know, artist to artist?” he said and made a hand gesture pointing back and forth between the two of you.

You closed your mouth and raised an eyebrow. Tae got a desperate look in his eye. You wanted to shut the door in his face, but there was something inside of you that couldn’t. Damn his big, brown puppy dog eyes.

”Look, I know we’re strangers…”

”And you want me to be naked?” you cut him off.

”Not… entirely…” he started off.

”No, because that would be absurd!” you scoffed.

Tae inhaled and carried on with his appeal.

”My assignment is to paint a person in a tender and vulnerable moment. You don’t need to show a lot of skin… just enough to get the proper emotion.”

”What is `enough´ of skin?” you asked and made gesturing air quotes with your fingers.

”Your back and shoulders? And legs… You’ll be sitting with your back towards me. I won’t force you into doing something you’re not comfortable with and I…”

”I’ll do it.” you said with a determined voice.

Tae silenced at once. This was a first. You almost felt proud of having the power of shutting him up. He looked back at you with his big eyes, almost as if he was shocked that he managed to persuade you.

”… you’ll do it? Thank you!” he said once recovering conciseness. He put his hands together and made a thankful gesture.

”What the hell was that?” your panicked mind thought to yourself. You didn’t know if it was a twist of fate or the fact that you were a bit bored that made you agree to this. Still, you took some pleasurement by the fact that he’d asked you. Isn’t it everybody’s dream to have someone paint you at some point in your life? Like one of the women in all those old paintings in museums. You lost yourself in your own thoughts as followed Tae’s footsteps up the stairs and into his flat.

”What am I supposed to be wearing? Or not be wearing…” you reminded yourself.

”Don’t worry, I have a shirt that you can borrow. I’ll show you”. he said as he gestured you to follow him into the main room. As you entered the room you took a quick look around. There was no doubt this was an artist’s home. The first thing that had caught your eye was an old wooden desk filled with art supplies. You smiled as you glanced upon all the different brushes and pencils standing stacked in different sized ceramic pots. The pots stood neatly in-between multiple paint cans with labels of names of colors that you had barely heard of before. Lying on the table were also trays with dried in paint on them. Next to the desk there were several canvases piled up against the wall, ready to be used. ”I wish I could paint”, you sighed softly to yourself.

In the corner of the room by the windows, there was a bed. Strange, you thought, that he would have his bed out in the main room, as all the apartments in the building included a smaller bedroom. The bed was unmade and the sheets all wrinkled up, yet it still looked very welcoming. A few meters from the bed he had organized a chair, a canvas and side table with brushes. He was all set up and ready to paint his savior in need. You caught yourself smiling as your eyes continued to scan the artist’s place. The walls were filled with paintings and framed photographs. The photographs pictured different objects and environments, such as autumn leaves and flower buds that were yet to bloom. There were pictures of people in different ages. Your eyes wondered from frame to frame. You came upon a picture that you liked particularly much, it was one with a zoom in on a young child’s eyes. It had been captured in the perfect moment, as it showed the spark in his or hers big eyes. They were filled with such joy and curiosity, ready to explore what the world has to offer. There was another photograph that caught your attention. It featured an old couple sitting on a bench outside of an old house. Their body language simulated age and fatigue, yet their eyes were filled with the same spark as the child in the earlier photo. They looked very much in love. You wondered if he’d taken any of the photographs by himself. The next second an old fashioned camera lying on top of a dresser in the other corner of the room caught your eyes and there was your answer, you figured.

”They’re my grandparents.” you heard a deep voice behind you say.

”Really?” you responded and looked back at the photograph on the wall. ”They look like very nice people.”

”They were the nicest people you could ever meet. They were the ones that raised me while my parents worked hard to provide for me and my siblings.” Tae told you as he handed you a white shirt.

”Were? I’m so sorry for your loss…” you said with a comforting voice.

”Thanks” Tae responded as he looked at the photograph. ”I miss them. Everyday.”

You couldn’t help but to notice a hint of sadness in his voice and watched how intensely his eyes stared at the framed photograph of his grandparents. If you were not mistaken, you could see his eyes fighting the urge to tear up.

”I’ll let you change as I prepare the last things for our session.” he said as he shook his head, as if he could shake away his urge to cry.

”Session? Sounds very formal.” you laughed, trying to brighten his mood.

”Well, our creative sitting then.” he responded with a mischievous smile.

He put his back to you to give you some privacy, as he opened some paint cans and filled up his tray. You observed his motions as you began to strip your clothes, starting with your tank top and then let your pajama shorts hit the floor as you were left standing in your panties. You quickly put on the shirt Tae had given you. You hesitated a bit and your cheeks started to flush. He had asked for nudity, but you still hadn’t completely wrapped your mind around this whole thing. You didn’t know where the spark came from, if it was due to tiredness or excitement, but your body suddenly filled up with a sense of courage and calm. With a smooth movement, you removed your underwear and let it reunite with the rest of the clothes lying at your feet.

”Where do you want me to put my clothes?” you asked as you held them in your hands.

Tae looked back at you wearing nothing but his white shirt, and quickly removed his gaze to the clothes in your hand. Did he just get embarrassed?

”Uhh… You can put them on the armchair over there.” he replied and gestured towards an old fashioned, red armchair that you’d neglect to notice. You did as you were told. ”I’m almost done.” he said as he quickened up the pace to get ready as soon as possible.

Your feet started to nervously tap the floor as you felt a bit awkward standing there almost naked. Once again, your eyes attached to the camera lying on the dresser. You decided to get a closer look.

The floor creaked as you walked through the room.

”Why did you ask me?” you asked as you fiddled a bit with the camera. You didn’t know much about cameras, but you could tell this was a few decades old.

”I didn’t feel like painting the 80-year old Mrs Kwan in 1B. Plus, I think you’re very beautiful.”

You felt your cheek blush again, since you’re not used to getting compliments.

”Hey, I find Mrs Kwan to be very adorable and nice.” you said teasingly as you tried to joke off his last words.

”Maybe I’ll ask her next time.”

”She’d love that.”

You both laughed.

”And.. I’m ready”. Tae said and carried the painting tray and put it on the side table.

”Where do I… How do you want me to…” you asked as you pointed towards the bed.

Tae smiled and gestured you to sit.

”You’ll sit with your back towards me.” he said and pointed at his chair. You followed his instruction and faced the wall. He grabbed your shoulders with his light touch and corrected you into the right angle. You had to bend one of your legs to get in the right position.

”Like this?” you asked as he let go of you. You stretched out your other leg to sit more comfortably.

”Perfect.” he answered as he’d taken a step back to get a better look. ”Now… I’ll just carefully pull down the shirt a bit.”

You let his fingers touch the thin fabric of the shirt. He made a swift move and pulled it down slowly, revealing your back inch by inch. You felt goosebumps prickle your skin. His soft touch left a shadow of a light shiver on your body.

”Are you ok?” he asked as he probably had noticed your reaction.

”I’m fine.” you replied and turned your face to the right to follow his movements in the corner of your eye.

A loud gulp left Tae’s throat as his fingers caressed your back through the thin fabric. It seemed he wasn’t left untouched by the situation either. He stopped his movement and left the shirt about an inch above your bottom. Carefully he let one of his hands pull your long hair to side to reveal more of you back. He cleared his throat and headed back to his chair.

”And now I just sit?” you affirmed.

”Now you sit.”

The room was filled with silence for several minutes, as you both soaked in the new atmosphere. It wasn't an awkward silence, it was just… a bit enigmatic. Like something was hanging in the air. You listened to the sound of his pencil touching the canvas as he sketches the outlines of your body. The light in the room was quite dim, only a few lamps were lit. Tae had also lit some candles to get the atmosphere right, you supposed. The sky was pitch black outside, but the city was illuminated by the stars and the moon. It was a beautiful sight. You wondered if the moonlight would give your body a nice glow as Tae was watching you. Did he like what he was seeing?

”Is it okay if I talk?” you asked and broke the silence.

Tae looked up from his canvas.

”Yeah… You can talk. I’ll let you know when I’m doing your mouth.” he responded.

You scoffed. You were way too tired to let that sexual innuendo slip pass. If you could’ve seen Tae’s face, you bet he’d be smiling. He didn’t comment further, so you had to bite your bottom lip to keep you from laughing. Maybe you were the only one with a childish humor.

”Do you mind me asking why you have your bed out here? you decided to ask to keep it from getting unnecessarily awkward.

”Not at all. I didn’t want it in my darkroom.”

”You have a darkroom in your apartment?” ”Yes. It beholds my most precious belongings.”

”Your photographs?”

”Correct.”

You smiled at the thought of him standing in his darkroom, developing beautiful photographs that he’s taken himself.

”Did you take the photographs on your wall?” you ask.

”Most of them.” he replies. ”Can you move your face a little upward?”

You follow his instruction and tilt your head up a bit, once again putting your gaze towards the moon. It gazes back, almost as if it’s watching you. ”Moon, mind your own business” you think to yourself as the corner of your mouth twitches into a little smile.

You wish you could observe Tae the way he was observing every last detail of your body. You had to fight the urge to move your head so you could watch him work his way with his tools. Watch how he’d carefully chose and mix colors to match your skin tone, how he used the brush and left beautiful strokes on the canvas. Just the thought about his face being serious, all crumpled up and focused, awoke tingling butterflies in your stomach. Your legs twitched. Did he notice? You couldn’t take it any longer and made a swift motion to glance back on the artist. He was staring down on his canvas. He was so beautiful sitting there, holding the canvas with one hand and carefully painting it with the other. His hair was a bit tousled up, as if he’d just drawn his fingers through it. You almost let out a loud sigh by just looking at him, but was able to stop yourself just in time.

”Are you comfortable?” he asked all of a sudden, making you jump.

He looked up from the canvas and met your eyes with a curious gaze.

”Err. Yeah. I’m just getting a bit tired. It’s late after all.” you responded. It wasn’t necessarily true, but you didn’t feel like admitting how he was affecting you and getting under your skin.

”Maybe you could tell me something then, to keep you awake. What are you writing about?”

You could feel your cheeks flush. You hardly talked about your writing with other people, it was something close and personal. Somehow, he was emanating a sense of calm and made you feel safe.

”I am writing about a young woman who quits her job and moves to Paris to pursue her dream of becoming a writer. She finds love in a penniless artist with a tragic backstory…”

Tae stopped in the middle of a motion and looked up at you. You stopped mid-sentence as you reflected on the words you’d just said. Oh, the irony. ”That is… very interesting.” Tae responded and looked back down on his painting. ”Very interesting, indeed.”

You scoffed.

”I guess it’s a bit funny.” you said.

”How so?” Tae asked as he raised an eyebrow and once again met your gaze.

”That I’m writing about somebody living in Paris… I’ve never been to Paris.” you answered, fully realizing that Tae knew your answer was a way to sway away from the obvious and coincidental situation.

”I doubt C.S. Lewis ever went to Narnia…” Tae responded with twinkle in his eyes.

You laughed. So the artist had a sense of humor.

”I know, smart ass. What I mean is that I often write about people who are living in similar situations like myself, but has the courage to take that extra leap that I’d never have the guts to do.” ”So, you want to move to Paris?” Tae said as he continued painting.

”No. I mean, Paris seems exciting, but what I meant was that it’s more about what Paris stands for. Making a choice that would change your life forever. Chasing your dreams, rather than someone else’s…” ”So who’s dream are you living?”

”W-what?” you stammered and twisted your entire upper body to look at Tae. He noticed your change in posture and put his brush down on the side table.

”You said so yourself. The thing keeping you from pursuing your dreams is the fear of letting someone else down.”

”That’s not what I said…” you said with a nervous, reassuring voice. You didn’t know if you were trying to reassure him or yourself.

”No, but I read between the lines.” Tae responded and winked an eye at you.

You felt like flipping him off, but you had better manners than that. Plus, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

”Aren’t we all sculptured by society to live perfect lives, as long as we bring something to the table that improves society and not be a liability?” you said.

”So… slaving away on a full time job day in and day out, being miserable inside a cage ’til the end of our days is a good thing? But living outside of the cage; being poor, being free or… being an artist, is a liability to society?” Tae responded slowly, but with a stern voice. ”You’re taking the words out of my mouth…”

You felt very irritated, but mostly confused.

”Y/N… I’m just messing with you.” Tae said and gave you a warm smile.

You took a pillow from the bed and tossed it at him. ”You absolute shit.” you giggled.

”Hey, watch out for the painting! It’s finally done.”

”Can I see it?” you asked as you relaxed your legs into a tailor position.

”When it’s ready to be seen.”

”Stop being so damn mysterious!” you chuckled.

”I’m an artist… it’s my job.” he said and put the canvas on an easel he had hidden in a corner of the room. The painting was faced away from you, so you couldn’t even sneak a peak. This man surely enjoyed teasing you.

”I thought you were just an art student…” you teased back.

Tae scoffed at your comment, fully acknowledging your sarcastic tone.

”Your artist from your story… what does he look like?” he asked as he returned to his chair.

You smiled and looked at the window, your eyes fixed on your own reflection.

”It’s funny actually… I don’t know. I don’t have a face for him yet.”

”Is that so?” Tae commented, trying to hide a smirk on his face. ”I guess I haven’t come upon the right inspirational source yet.” you responded and looked back at Tae.

Suddenly you realized that you still hadn’t covered yourself up again. Your full upper body was still on display. A chill went down your spine and made you shiver.

”Are you okay?” Tae asked.

”I am fine. But I’m starting to get a bit cold.” you replied as you slowly reached for the shirt to pull it back up. You could feel his eyes burn on your body and looked up at him.

”Really?” he said and put his head back slightly as he met your gaze. It felt like he was staring right into your soul. He left his seat and slowly walked up to you. You could feel a gulp in your throat. ”Maybe I can help with that.” Was he for real?  

”That was a smooth line.” you admitted. Tae laughed.

”As smooth as my fingers?” he said as he softly drew his fingers up and down your arms.

The warmth from his fingers felt amazing on your skin. Your mouth started to water, and at the same time it felt dry. You didn’t care how exposed you were. The only thing you could focus on was the man in front of you. You couldn’t break your glance away from the big, brown puppy dog eyes that were staring down on your body, or his big luscious lips that were just a few inches away. You felt the hunger of wanting to taste them. The energy between the two of you intensified with every second as your heads slowly reached forward to one another. You got lost into his sweet touch and the sound of his heavy breathing didn’t make it easier. He rested his forehead on yours as he drew you closer. You grabbed hold of his arms and crumpled his shirt with your fists. You couldn’t take it anymore. Neither could he. Your lips slammed together with such force that you almost got hurt. You were both too caught up in the moment to acknowledge any pain, you just kept exploring each other with your tongues as sloppy tools. His hands traveled from your arms and back down to your front. He broke the kiss to draw two fingers down the middle of your chest. He followed his fingers with his gaze and you watched him taking all of you in. You could hardly fathom the fact that a beautiful man like Tae could look at you with such admiration. He looked back up at you and met your gaze. You could feel yourself going breathless as he leaned down to the side of your face. A shiver went down your spine as he opened his mouth to whisper something into your ear. His warm breath felt so good on your skin. You closed your eyes and listened to his soft words.

”I told you I’d let you know when I’d do your mouth.”

[yehet-me-up]

Remote

Pairing: Jinyoung x reader 

Word Count: 2,817

Rating: (F) for fluff 

Summary: Feeling overwhelmed by the busyness of the city you book a weekend getaway by yourself to a remote island in the San Juans for some peace and quiet. Strolls on the chilly beaches, perusing the quaint local bookstore, quiet breakfasts alone; all are things you’re looking forward to. Until you meet a handsome man on the ferry and decide to throw out all your plans.

Part 5 of the GOT7 colors series of oneshots! 🌈 Color: Blue.

The October wind whips your hair into your face as you walk up the steps to the top deck of the ferry. It's freezing now that it’s turning into evening. 

No one else is out here but you and the thought makes you smile. You don't mind that the wind is blowing in every direction and a light rain has started to fall. With a glance back at the main passenger cabin you see a few families getting set up at the tables inside. 

Couples are finding adjoining seats to lean together for the three and a half hour ride. A few lone souls are seated with books or cups of coffee, preparing for the evening.

Despite the weather you refuse to break your tradition of standing on the back deck whenever the ferry takes off. You’re disinterested in watching the city you've come from, always preferring to look instead at where the ship will take you. 

You pull your wayward hair behind your ears and consider pulling it back with a hair tie for a moment before dismissing the idea and letting it free. The railing is shockingly cold beneath your palms so you slip your sweater down over your wrists before resuming your post.

The twilight blue of the night sky makes the land around Seattle take on a mystical glow. It's this frantic city you're so desperately escaping this Friday evening. Too many people, pushing and shoving and existing near you had started to make you feel trapped.

With a groan you'd looked up from your desk at lunch time, taking in the hustle and bustle of the busy crowds, and decided you needed a weekend off. Somewhere quiet where you could hear yourself think and feel yourself move without dozens of people in your personal space.

Your family had taken trips to the San Juans several summers growing up. A slice of heaven only a short ferry ride away. Homey boardwalks with cute little shops selling driftwood art or stained glass creations. Ice cream shops, staffed by friendly married couples who retired to the islands. Local bookstores with small selections that felt like a relief after rows upon rows of selections in the stores on the mainland.

Pulling up google you'd found a small bed and breakfast on Whitman Island. You'd never heard of it before, but Wikipedia listed the local population at 765. Perfect, you’d thought and booked two nights. A quiet weekend getaway with nothing to do but write and explore the town and walk on the (hopefully) deserted beach. 

You'd dashed the few blocks home from work to your apartment to fill a small bag with a few clothes, toiletries, and your notebook. One of the benefits of living downtown was that the ferry terminal was just a few blocks away. The six o’clock ferry was easy to board as a walk-on. 

The loud horn of the ship makes you flinch and you laugh to yourself. You see the dark water churn below as the ship starts to make it's way out from port. 

With a deep breath you feel yourself start to relax already, as if you were leaving all your worries and cares behind for good, instead of just a weekend. Normally this trip is only made once a day, in the morning, but it looks like popularity had caused them to add a once-weekly Friday night trip as well and you were thankful they had.

Two families with kids brave the cold to come out and join you on the deck for take off and you give them a small smile as they squeal excitedly. 

They abandon their post after a few minutes, slowly trickling back inside leaving you once again alone out in the almost complete dark. Well, almost alone. A movement in your periphery startles you and you turn your head to see a man standing at the other end of the deck. 

His thick, long wool black jacket and shock of black hair make him nearly blend into the night. He's not looking at you, but straight ahead at the landscapes moving by quickly, now that the ferry is up to it's fully speed. A messenger bag is slung over his shoulder and a long black notebook is held protectively in his hands as his shrewd gaze, framed by strong brows, takes in the scenery.

He turns around to look back at the ferry itself, lit up by warm yellow beams casting their glow out into the night. He's devastatingly handsome, you admit to yourself, before turning your attention back to the water ahead of you. Before you lose consistent service you pull out your phone and text your best friend and your mom about the trip, just to give them a heads up.

Both reply within minutes, telling you they hope you enjoy yourself. You smirk, feeling the concern that underlies both of their messages. You can practically hear them, worrying about how little you go out. How single you are. How long it's been since you dated anyone. 

You sigh and roll your eyes before lifting them skyward.

The ferry is almost far enough past the city for you to really be able to see the stars, but the little taste you can see past the light pollution is a balm to your soul. 

Is it really such a crime that you prefer the quiet? You enjoy simple pleasures like a good cup of tea in the morning, an evening spent with your laptop toying around with the beginnings of your next novel, and a nice stroll through the city on early Sunday mornings when it's blessedly quiet.

It's not that you hate company. On the contrary, you love your colleagues in the publishing world and relish the work that you do. You and your best friend passionately spend your lunches talking about the latest books you're representing. 

But when the day is done, you want your time to yourself. And that, apparently, is a fate worse than death according to your mother, you think with an amused sigh.

'I didn't think anyone else would be crazy enough to be out here,' comes a low male voice, shouted to be heard over the noise of the wind and the churning waters of the Puget Sound.

You turn around at the sound, battling the wind and your hair to look at the handsome man. Up close he's even more stunning, his lips tugged up into an friendly smile, his deep eyes meeting yours with a spark.

'I never miss the chance to be out here,' you reply loudly over the wind, returning his smile. 'Crazy is definitely the word for it.' With a shrug you wrap your arms around your chest against a surge of icy drizzle.

He tucks the notebook he's holding inside the fold of his jacket and flips up his collar against the rain. 'Want to grab a cup of coffee?' he asks with a motion of his head back to the appealing warmth of the indoor cabin.

You nod and lead the way back inside. When you're halfway across the deck a huge surge of wind almost knocks you sideways. You'd forgotten how tempestuous the storms out on the Sound can get. 

You stumble a step and collide with the man next to you who's also trying to find his footing in the gale. His warm eyes are crinkled as he laughs and tries to right himself. His hand finds yours and you both steady yourselves and hurry inside, bodies jostling each other in the rain.

The two of you emerge into the bright main area with a relieved sigh. You pull your hair back and twirl it around your finger, throwing it over your shoulder to see clearly. He's shaking droplets of water from his hair, huffing out a laugh.

'Well, that escalated quickly,' he quips, pointing over to an empty booth facing out to the water with a raise of his brows.

You nod and follow him, taking off your overcoat and laying it on the bench to dry along with your bag before sitting on the bench with a sigh. He follows your motions, dropping his notebook onto the table as he slides into the seat opposite you.

'So how do you take your coffee?' he asks, pulling a wallet from his back pocket.

'Oh, you don't have to buy it for me, I can-' you start but he waves you off and stands up again.

'It's my treat, please,' he replies, his tone decisive, his eyes bright and daring you to challenge him.

'All right then, thank you' you concede with a laugh. 'Cream and two sugars please.'

'Coming right up,' he says, tapping his wallet to the table before walking off to the small cafe on-board the ship.

When he disappears around the corner you turn, resting your elbow on the window ledge, watching the seas and the night sky with interest. Something unwinds within you as you take in the wild weather and the raw cliffs of the small, uninhabited islands the ship passes. You feel the stress and anxiety drain from you the farther you get from the city.

He returns after another minute, setting two steaming to-go cups of coffee on the table and sliding back into the booth. After offering him another thanks and a warm smile the two of you settle in to drink your coffees in amiable silence, watching the world pass by out the window. 

You do your best to keep your attention off of him but eventually give up and let yourself notice him. The warm-looking grey knit sweater he's wearing. His thick, long lashes. The mysterious notebook on the table. You wonder if he's perhaps an artist, coming to the island to find inspiration.

'So what brings you to Whitman island?' he asks before taking another sip, turning to you.

It occurs to you that you're a woman traveling alone to a remote island, and you consider for a moment telling him that you're meeting family or a lover. 

But the way he asks is friendly and not pushy, and you find none of the warning in your gut that you can always trust to tell you when something isn't quite right. So instead you take another sip and figure out how to word it, eventually just settling on the most straightforward.

'Just taking a weekend to get away from the city,' you eventually reply with a shrug.

He nods, reaching out a hand to tap a finger to his notebook. 'Same. I've been so slammed at work I've been too drained to make anything that I want to.'

'Are you a writer? An artist?' you ask. Perhaps far too eagerly, you think as he lifts an eye and smirks at you.

'Graphic designer by day, artist by night,' he says in dramatic voice that draws a laugh from you.

'I'm a writer myself. Makes sense that the two crazy people out on the deck are both artists,' you reply. 'What kind of art do you make?'

'Mostly charcoal,' he says, pursing his lips in consideration. 'I've tried my hand at water colors and some other mediums. But the rough, dark lines of charcoal always feel the most natural to me.'

Your eyes dart back down to his sketchbook, your curiosity rising. For a moment you think about asking him if you can see some of his work, but immediately rule it out as too presumptuous and private.

As if sensing your question he speaks again. 'I'd be happy to show you some of my work.'

'If I can read some of your writing, that is,' he continues with a grin.

Your eyes go wide at the challenge. You normally don’t let anyone read what you're working on except for your editor and your best friend. The first novel you published was well received and you’re excited to have time to find inspiration for the next.

'I'm not really sure it would be up your alley,' you laugh.

'And why is that?' he counters in mock offense, drawing his hand to his chest dramatically.

'It's a romance,' you answer with a grin.

'Are you seriously telling me that you think someone who has a soft spot for charcoals isn't a romantic?' he rebuts with a smirk, his deep brown eyes fixing on you over this rim of his coffee.

'Okay, you got me there,' you say, reaching a finger down to hook in the back of your shoes. 

You slip out of them and fold your legs underneath you, desperately willing warmth back into your frozen toes. 'I haven't written much yet, I mostly just have an outline though. Sorry to disappoint.'

'Don't worry, I'm a patient man,' he replies, quirking up one of his brows. 'I can't wait to read some.'

Your cheeks heat in response, at the implication that he'll be around by the time you'll have written something. True, the two of you are going to a small island and it would be incredibly easy to run into each other this weekend. Even easier if you plan to meet, you think with a small smile. But there's at least another two and a half hours of this ferry ride, so you're in no rush.

He acquiesces 'for now,’ to show you his work on the promise that he can read yours as soon as you have a sizable chunk. You lean your heads together as he flips through his sketchbook. He's incredible, you can tell right away. Portraits, landscapes, abstracts; everything he creates is infused with his unique style. Raw, blunt lines, somehow rendered sweeping and cohesive by his blending.

You mention an exhibit you saw last year at the Seattle Art Museum, an artist you can't quite remember the name of, who also works primarily in charcoal. He immediately lights up in recognition, telling you the artist is a friend, and the conversation flows easily into discussions of your favorite artists in the Seattle area.

All too soon the horn for the ferry blows and you realize it's nine thirty and time to dock on Whitman Island. You lean back up, just now noticing how close the two of you had been over the table while you spoke. The distance between your hand and his on the smooth surface of the table is easily less than an inch, you notice with a flush as you quickly pull it back so you can slip on your shoes.

'Time to go already?' he echoes your thoughts as he grabs his coat and shrugs it back on.

'Yeah, wow. That went by insanely fast,' you say softly with a shake of your head as you throw on your coat and grab your bag.

'So, where are you staying?' he asks with a furrow of his brow, motioning you to go ahead of him to make your way to the dock that is fast approaching, lit up through the inky black night.

'Why?' you ask, perplexed. Yes, there's obviously an attraction between you two, but he can't seriously think you're going to take him to bed tonight.

He laughs and rests his hand on your waist while you walk, leaning down to speak close to you. 'It's late. I want to make sure you get safely to where you're staying,' he says in a low voice that sends heat down your spine. 

'My intentions are pure, I promise,' he says with a grin, leaning up and putting his hands in the air in mock defense.

You laugh, tilting your head back. When you look over you meet his eyes and feel something inside you melt, something frozen and solid you weren't aware of until this moment. Even after a full day of work and a long evening of travel your insides feel electric at his nearness. 

'It's the Country Inn Bed and Breakfast,' you answer, pulling out your phone to open your email and find the address.

When you meet his eyes again he's closed his own for a moment and a wry smile is gracing his full lips. He holds open the heavy door out to the walkway off the ferry for you and joins you a moment later. 

'Well, that will be very easy, since that's also where I'm staying,' he supplies with a laugh.

'Perfect,' you say, meeting his gaze.

Your hands brush against each other as the two of you walk together down the narrow ramp to the pier. Without a trace of awkwardness he gently slides his palm against yours and you clasp your hand in his. 

This was supposed to be a solo getaway from the crowds, you think. But looking at the adorable way the wind throws his hair across his forehead you find you don't mind in the least. You’re willing to make an exception for him.

[mad-madam-m]

So I'm just curious, how do you get yourself to write? And do you use prompts and if you do where do you get them? I meant to use NaNo to get me to write but it took 4 days into November for me to realize November started so I failed lol. I've been meaning to start this original thing and it's just not...working.

First of all, anon, you could start writing RIGHT NOW (yes, with 10 days left in the month) and you would not fail NaNo. You might not hit 50k (although I know people who have hit 50k in that amount of time, or less), but you won’t fail. NaNoWriMo isn’t about hitting 50,000 words so much as it is about putting a stake in the ground and saying, “Here. Today. I will start writing the project I’ve always wanted to.” And doing it. Doesn’t matter what that project is—original novel, short stories, fic, poetry, revising something, a series of blog posts—NaNo is about just. Fucking. Doing it. And you still have time to Do It.

To answer your questions:

Do you use prompts and if you do, where do you get them?

For original stories, particularly novels, I usually don’t. For fic, particularly short fic I’m writing for events, I do. Tumblr has a wealth of writing prompts that range from “here’s a situation” to “here’s a line of dialogue GO,” and I tend to reblog them under the tags “fic prompts” or “writing prompts.” Honestly, most of them would work for either original fic or fanfic, so if you are a writer who likes to work from prompts, go forth and enjoy!

How do you get yourself to write?

That’s kind of a big question, and uh, the answer to it got long. Very long. (I said once that if you give me half a chance, I’ll talk about writing all the live-long day, and this answer is no exception.)

Different things motivate me for different projects, and as with all writing-related advice, YMMV, but here’s a few things that really help for getting myself to write:

1) Develop your story.

The current original story I’m working on, for example, I have not really had to struggle to get myself to write at all because 1) I’m stupid excited about it and 2) I have developed the hell out of it.

I’ve talked before about outlining my stuff here, so I won’t go too much into it again; suffice it to say that I have done about the same amount of development on my current original story that I had on ADA by the time I started writing. I started around the very end of September developing my characters and spent a good chunk of October working on setting, worldbuilding, plot, and finally my notecards.

Shockingly, having some idea of what’s happening and where I’m going is making this story easier to write.

Right? Like WHO’D HAVE THOUGHT.

Because of that, I’ve been excited about writing my story, so getting myself to write on it has been (comparatively) a cakewalk.

That’s not to say any of the writing is good (oh God no) or that there aren’t parts that need fixing, or that I haven’t been stuck. But it’s been stuck like “how do I describe seeing a tree-covered mountain in the middle of fall from the POV of someone who has never seen something like this” rather than “I have no fucking clue what happens next uh…”

The stories I struggle the most with writing are the ones that I’ve worked the least on developing. The stories that have been the easiest to write have been the ones I’ve spent at least a month doing prep work on before I ever start drafting.

2) Love your story.

Being in love with a story makes it a lot easier to write, at least for me. Because here’s the thing, ideas are easy.

If you’re a creative person, you’re going to end up with a file of story ideas—maybe prompts you liked, dialogue that stuck with you, one of those “humans are space orcs” tumblr posts that’s just really clicking in your brain—that will be longer than you could conceivably write if you had a hundred lifetimes. That’s okay! That’s great. But it means a lot of them are never going to get past the idea stage.

For me, the stories that get finished—the ones that not only get started but actually make it through the first draft and then three rounds of editing and revisions—are the ideas that I’ve been percolating on for months, if not longer. They’ve been cooking in the back of my brain while I’ve been doing other things, sorting themselves out, and most importantly: they will not let me go.

Coming up with ideas is easy. Finding an idea that will last and sustain a story and my interest for at least a year, if not longer? That’s harder.

Y’all know how much I’ve been talking about Tiger & Bunny over the past year? We’re talking that level of obsession with a story that I want to write, whether it’s fic or original. Sometimes it takes months or years for all the puzzle pieces to come together. Sometimes the whole thing will congeal within a few weeks, or there will be one crucial piece of story that will just make EVERYTHING come together, I will literally shout “OH MY FUCKING GOD” and that’s it, I’m off to the races. (In this particular case, it wasn’t anything I’d done in the first two weeks of poking at steampunk-y ideas; it was the realization that I could put a circus on an airship. The whole story just went WHOOSH after that.)

BUT. But. Sometimes you don’t have that. These stories are great and I love them and they remind me why I love writing so much (and if you’re writing something that’s gonna be 90k+, like I have a tendency to do, you need to be in love with it, IMO), but sometimes you’re in situations where you just have to get it done. In those cases:

3) Resort to bribery.

I’ve been poking at the third part of Alpha & Emissary, oh, basically since I posted the second part. My problem is that my fandom focus has been, shall we say, split for the past year. *coughs delicately, shoves Tiger & Bunny fics under the bed*

But here’s the thing: I hate having a published WIP on AO3 (it’s why I don’t publish long!fics until they’re completely drafted and mostly edited). I hate—HATE—having an unfinished series on AO3.

So that’s the rub: I have an unfinished series that I want to finish because I hate that it’s not finished. I also have a new fandom that is wresting my attention and inspiration away from said series. What’s a girl to do?

A girl tells herself she can’t write any more Tiger & Bunny fic until she finishes this one WIP, that’s what she does.

And it’s motivated me to sit my ass down and work on that WIP, because goddammit, I have a “but there was only one bed” TaiBani fic that I would really like to have up by New Year’s.

Your bribery will be different. Maybe you get to watch 1 episode of your favorite show per every 1k you write, or you get to try a new knitting project when you finish this short story. Maybe you binge-watch an entire season of your favorite anime if you exceed your NaNo goal. Or you write 50 words and get a cookie. The point is, find what works for you to get it done.

4) Figure out a minimum daily goal and stick with it.

For me, this was 500 words a day. 500 words. That’s it. That’s one 30-minute word sprint for me. That’s something I can do without stressing myself out.

Because of this point and point 3, I wrote more than 7000 words on a story I’d been stuck on for the better part of a year before I had to stop to work on NaNo stuff. Another 7k, and I’ll probably have it finished.

Your minimum word count will almost certainly be different. Maybe it’s 300 words a day, maybe it’s 1000. Hell, maybe it’s 100 words. Again, find what works for you, what you can write regularly without stressing yourself out.

Another important thing: If I didn’t hit 500 words, I didn’t beat myself up about it. Maybe I wrote 350. Or 220. Or just 93. The point is, did I write? Yes? Then I did good. I got myself a sentence or a paragraph closer to finishing. And it all adds up.

(And hey, you don’t have to write every day. I do, or I try to, because that’s what works for me. If it stresses you out to do so, then find another way to make it work.)

5) Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.

This one’s hard because I can rarely keep a deadline that’s not set by an external source. If you tell me on December 20 that you need a story by December 22? Then on December 22, you’ll have a story, edited and ready to post. But when it comes to something I set for myself, the chances of a deadline working are 50/50.

That being said, it is something that helps me keep on track and even if I don’t finish something by a self-imposed deadline, it does get me writing.

6) Sprint with friends!

NaNo is really great for this because all your writer friends are coming out of the woodwork going I need to hit 5k by the end of today, will you sprint with me? Sometimes it just helps to have that kind of accountability. You all get together (I’ve used Discord, Google Hangouts, IRC, and Twitter DMs for this), set a timer, and write for 15 minutes or 20 minutes or 30 minutes. Then, when the time’s up, you post your word count, everybody congratulates everybody else, and then you take a break before doing the next one.

Sprints are the reason I’ve been able to make some pretty significant headway on my word counts, and few things get me writing like knowing I’m going to have to tell everybody in my group what my word count is in 30 minutes or less. >.>

Like I said earlier, YMMV on all of these. What works for me may work for you, or it might not. But if you aren’t sure, it’s worth giving it a shot.

Happy writing!

[neikarasu]

A lil’ update about lil’ ole me

Wow...It’s been a while since I’ve last posted on Tumblr. I know I still have quite a few followers here, especially from the r76 days and with my other fanfic contents. I just wanna let y’all know that I’m still alive, still doing okay, and especially am embarking on new, exciting adventures!

So let’s get to it.

1. I’ve been hired to be the lead writer for not one, but TWO indies game projects (inserts terrified but excited fangirl squeal here)!!!! One is a thriller/mystery Visual Novel project with elements of romance and supernatural. The other is an epic platform game that features a diverse cast of playable female protagonists! 

I’ve been working on the VN project since May this year and, on that note, I have to send out a huge shout out to @bafflingshade for being the most amazing beta/editor I’ve EVER gotten my claws on!!! She gives amazing reviews you guys, and she’s been a huge help when it comes to improving my writings and thought process!

2. Some of you might know I’m a huge WoW fan/player. Welp, I’ve kick started my own guild for BfA, and we’re constantly growing. Yish, I’m a proud mama :3 Also, shameless advertisement:

[Salty Glaives] on Kil’Jaeden-US is a tight-knit band of casual to casualcore raiders. We love our banters, random runs and generally keeping everyone company while the guild is pushing through BfA contents.  8/8H - 1/9M, with several mythic+ groups. Looking for off tanks, Hpally/Hpriest. Heroic & Normal runs 17:00 UTC : Tues - Weds

Shoot me a message here, or on discord at Nei#6158 to inquire for moaw info :3

3. I’m still working on cosplay commissions! For the past year, we’ve been churning out an amazing amount of costumes and props for clients all over the world! The business is still growing, you guys, and if you’d like to have a look at what we’re doing on a daily basis, give us a follow on these pages below! Facebook: https://business.facebook.com/PtytbArtAtelier/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ptytb.art.atelier/

That’s all about me for now! I will do my best to update and upkeep this page. I miss y’all tons, and I’d love to get back into the swings of it! And hopefully leak some awesome pics of the projects I’ve been working on (with the teams’ permission, of course XD)

Here, having a picture of my cat being fat.

Till next time!