#the last snippet is the last thing i have written besides my notes

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters [teaser!]

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

teaser word count: 1.7k

teaser warnings: swearing

release date: saturday, august 3, 10 PM EST

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

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A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

note: this fic is my BABYYY so I really hope it’s well received and you all have a good time with it. it’s probably no surprise that still monster is one of my absolute favorite enha songs, and this story is essentially (my interpretation of) it in written form. this is going to be a multi-part story, and as of right now, the first part is almost ready to share. for now, enjoy this snippet!

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Crossing a dark line through the word you just penned, you sigh. 

This is the fastest you’ve put a story together in ages. It’s cohesive, and the writing is solid. Your use of metaphor is strong and concise, and the prose feels true to your identity as a writer. 

But something in you withers a bit with every new word you commit to paper. It’s not that you hate your topic. If anything, it’s just that you have no stake in it at all. It doesn't feel innovative or exciting or representative of your creativity. 

No matter how easily the words flow out of you, something about it just feels… flat. One dimensional. 

You need something new. A different angle or an alternative perspective or… Or a fresh set of eyes. 

Struck with a sudden idea, you pull out your phone, plan taking form in your mind. The literature club at your university hosts bimonthly peer review sessions, and you haven’t taken advantage of them nearly as much as you should. They’re a chance for any writer, literature major or otherwise, to come together and workshop any piece of writing of their choice. 

Tapping your finger impatiently on the table, you wait for the page to load. The fall semester did end almost a week ago, so it may be a long shot. You’re not sure if the club typically holds sessions over winter break. But as you pull up the club’s calendar of events, a small smile tugs at your lips. 

Luck seems to be on your side this time. It’s written there in plain, bold font that there will be a session this upcoming Friday evening. That means that if you attend the session and get some solid ideas for revision, you’ll have exactly five days to refine your draft before you present it to Professor Kim. 

The idea of having not only a topic, as the schedule outlined, but an actual complete,  well-written draft to show him next Wednesday, turns your small smile into one that overtakes your features. 

Energized with a new vigor, you reach for your pen again. It doesn’t have to be perfect, you remind yourself, even as a turn of phrase makes you cringe. Even as a piece of punctuation feels out of place. It just needs to be written. You just need to have as much content as you can to share on Friday. 

Besides, you’re sure that a second opinion will help you fine tune this story into something you’re proud to share, something you’re excited to attach your name to.

The afternoon is quick to blur into early evening, and you’re still bent over your favorite corner table. Coffee long drained, you’re full of a new confidence. The thought of proving yourself suddenly doesn’t seem like such an unachievable, out of reach task. 

And when you do finally gather up all of your belongings and make your way back to your apartment for the night, you’re sure that this is the exact boost you needed. 

That same stroke of self-assuredness carries you all the way through a finished first draft. It’s rough and messy and littered with loose ends, but it’s tucked away in the bottom of your tote bag with a smile as you haul it to classroom number 105 in the university liberal arts building Friday evening. 

You pause at the door to the classroom, only for a moment. The inhale you breathe in is deep, full. Nodding to yourself once, you push open the door. 

You haven’t been to one of these workshop sessions since the second semester of your first year, back when you had just switched to a literature major. You remember being wide-eyed and incredibly protective over your work. It was hard to part with it, to let anyone else read over the sentences you were so unsure of. The writing you had little confidence in. 

But your partner had been kind. Another girl in her first year, she had nothing but gentle feedback to give and reassurance that your writing was worth reading. Honestly, it was such an overwhelmingly positive experience that you would have come back for more sessions if you weren’t constantly struggling to find minutes to spare in the day. 

You’re hoping that tonight will be just as rewarding as you enter the classroom, tote bag in tow. But as you survey the space around you, your face falls flat, easy going smile dropping from your lips. 

You weren’t expecting a big crowd, considering that it is winter break and most students are deliberately avoiding campus right now, but you were hoping there’d be more than one other person in attendance. 

Well, you think, deciding to look on the bright side of things. At least you’re not the only person. 

The other attendee is sitting in the far corner of the room, occupying a desk near the front of the classroom. At the sound of your entrance, they turn to face you. 

With that, your small disappointment is quick to snowball into an intense wave of exasperation. Because why is the universe so hellbent on playing games with you?

Your mouth drops open without your permission. “Heeseung?” 

Your sudden outburst fills the room and lingers long into the awkward silence that follows. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but really, what are the god forsaken odds?

If he’s bothered by your reaction to seeing him, Heeseung doesn’t show it. Instead he looks strangely… relieved. It makes absolutely no sense for him to feel any sort of relief at the sight of you, but it’s hard to put a more apt descriptor to the way tension drains from his shoulders, crease between his brows softening as he looks at you, scans you from head to toe. 

A moment of stilted silence passes between the two of you. Another. Your heartbeat feels too loud in your chest.

You exhale, a cross between a scoff and a laugh so humorless it could freeze a flame. Weighing your options, the most tempting by far is to just turn on your heel and exit the way you came. 

Heesung seems to read your intention before you can commit to it. 

Breaking the heaviness in the atmosphere, he acts as if you’ve greeted him like an old friend, not as the source of all your recent headaches. 

“Hi,” he nods, so tentatively you almost want to let your jaw drop open in shock. Almost. 

Because what the fuck does he mean by ‘Hi?’ This has to be some kind of mind game, some way to get in your head and ruin this for you. 

“Right.” Your lips pull into a tight line. You don’t bother to return his greeting. “I’m just gonna go, then.” Hiking up your bag on your shoulder, you turn to do just that. Your first draft will just have to be unpolished. Oh, well. You’re sure Professor Kim will have better feedback for you than Lee Heeseung ever would anyway. 

Once again, Heeseung’s voice cuts across the classroom. “Wait.” There’s a command in his voice. Gentle, but firm. Insistent. So pervasive that you find yourself following without really meaning to. 

Mind made up and dead set on leaving, now you’re just annoyed. What a waste of a Friday evening.

“What?” You turn back to him. You’re not sure if there’s more venom in your voice or your eyes. 

And Heeseung, who commands a classroom with quiet grace, with his steady, unwavering presence, suddenly looks so damn unsure. As if tormenting you is uncharted territory. As if he’s never once left you in the cold with flaming cheeks and a thoroughly shattered ego. 

“I…” he trails off, not quite meeting your furious gaze. “Didn’t you come here to get feedback?”

“Right.” You scoff again. “Because I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to tear my writing to shreds. Forgive me, but I’m not interested in being the butt end of your joke tonight.”

“What?” If you didn’t know any better, the ignorance he feigns would be rather convincing. “That’s not why I’m here.” He shakes his head. “I brought something I want reviewed too.” 

Your brow arches. He can’t be serious. “Even if I did stay,” you counter, “you’re actually the last person I would want to read my work. Feel free to be offended by that, by the way.”

For a solid minute, Heeseung just looks at you. He wears that same damn deer-in-the-headlights expression he had after you brushed him off when he intercepted you in class the other day. He pauses, weighing words on his tongue. “Look, ____.” The sound of your name on his lips strikes a strange chord in you. Until now, you were certain he didn’t even know it. “Did I do something to offend—”

And no. Absolutely not. No way are you rehashing that day in the quad with him now. 

“You know what,” you interrupt. You need to go. Now. You need an out. “I’m actually, like, super tired. I think I’m just gonna head back, and—”

But then it’s his turn to cut off your train of thought. “It’s your piece for Professor Kim, isn’t it?” Heeseung takes your silence as confirmation. “Publishing is a big deal. A second set of eyes will only make your work stronger. And if you hate my feedback, it’s not like you have to use any of it.”

You hate it. You despise the way his reasoning matches your internal monologue nearly word for word. The way your thoughts align exactly. 

You pause, a decision weighing heavy on your mind. He is an excellent writer… There would probably be substance to his feedback. Real, actual, good substance that you could use to make your writing bloom into something truly amazing. He could be the exact spark you need to make your story come to life. 

You purse your lips. “What’s in it for you?”

Heesung smiles, a nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips. He knows he’s won. “Like I said, I brought something I’ve been working on.” There’s an intention you can’t quite read behind his gaze when he adds, “I want to know what you think of it.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

With a grumble, you take reluctant steps towards where he sits on the opposite side of the classroom. And if you slide down into the seat next to him with a little more force than necessary, well, it’s just because you’ve had a long week. No other reason. None at all. 

“Fine,” you relent, reaching to pull your notebook out of your bag. “You get twenty minutes.”

“That’s not nearly long eno—”

“Thirty,” you concede. “And don’t push it.”

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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note: thanks for checking out this little snippet! I can't wait to share the full first part soon. this one is going to be so much fun I'm buzzing already. I don't have a tag list, but I will most likely update this post and reblog it once I have a confirmed release date. like I said in the note at the beginning, I'm anticipating it will be ready to go by this sunday (august 4 EST) at the latest. woo!

[impishjesters]

Touch-starved Moon

CW// non-sexual touching, teasing, no actual sexual content notes: Sun and Moon are separate animatronics, not mentioned but implied that the reader is already dating the boys A/N: I don't know what to call this, a preview? Snippet? Drabble? Either way, late last night I got on the topic of touch-starved Moon with my friend, which led to me typing up bits at a time to send them. They were my magical muse because I've been having writer's block, so I just find it funny that I wrote up a bunch via Discord messages versus my usual setup...and on my phone of all things. Maybe I'll do this more to try and get out of my writer's block, definitely seems to be doing a better job than forcing myself to write shit up. But yeah, since this was written up on my phone I've gone through and fixed all my 2 am sleepy typos and grammar mistakes, obviously this isn't finished. Again why I said I don't really know how to label it. Maybe with enough interest, I could pick it up and flesh it out a bit more. But it wasn't intended to be this long, just like the first bit then a jump to the reader touching and over-stimming Moon and junk 💀

“Hm, Moonie?” Your hand drifted down his chest plate before giving the elastic of his pants a quick snap.

Moon hummed, gaze still locked on your face. “Yes, star?”

“What did I just say?”

“What?”

“Oh my, Moonpie were you distracted?”

“I was listening.” he hissed. Moon’s chest plate rumbled with annoyance but grew warm under your touch.

“Mhm, and what was I saying?”

Moon froze and sent your hand a glance, watching as your fingers walked their way down his stomach. “D-daycare..”

“Daycare? Mm, that’s a pretty broad topic.”

“Cleaning..” he cleared his throat. “Cleaning the daycare..”

“Moonie… It’s morning, the daycare is already clean.”

Shit.

“Seems like someone hasn’t fully booted up. I’ll overlook it this time, try not to get distracted with the kiddos, okay?”

Moon forced himself not to chase your hand as it left him, forcing out a grunt in agreement.

“Well,” you stretched and turned to look out into the daycare. “I’m gonna go find Sunny and ask him for his thoughts on what I said.”

He flinched. Did you ask him for his thoughts on something? For the daycare? Moon held back a whimper as you left, crimson eyes trailing the hand you used to touch him, now being used to wave Sun down. The same hand used to touch him now rested against Sun, and it made his chest ache and stomach churn.

Why did you stop touching him?

The rest of the morning was spent with the feeling of eyes on you. Every curious glance resulted in catching Moon’s gaze on you instead of the children he was supposed to be tending to. And without fail, every time he was caught he’d look away and find a way to excuse himself to a different place in the daycare.

By nap time the staring didn’t let up, even Sun had commented, questioning why Moon was so out of it and staring at you.

Moon silently stewed in his emotions, irritated at every touch between you and Sun. You’d yet to touch him again, in fact, you’d gone out of your way to avoid touching him.

During lunchtime, you’d made sure to avoid his touch while handing out the lunch trays, only to touch Sun’s by “accident”.

What made Sun so special? Was it because he’d spaced out earlier? Were you upset? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be in Sun’s place right now.

Should he apologize? If he was going to he needed to think fast, you’d turn away from Sun and were headed straight for…him?

“Hey Moonpie.” You whispered, careful of the sleeping children, and sat beside him on the floor keeping a decent distance between the two of you. “Feeling better?”

Moon’s voice box rumbled. “Peachy.” Despite the darkness, he could see the gap between the two of you clear as day. Normally you’d sit on his lap with him during nap time while Sun took to doing a mid-day clean up.

“Is that so? I’m glad.”

The glow-in-the-dark stars of the nap room alongside Moon’s dimly lit eyes gave you just enough lighting to see the gap between you two. His leg twitched and you took to distracting yourself to look at a nearby napping child—time to see how the event from this morning would unfold.

The two of you sat in silence aside from the music box playing away in Moon’s chest. Careful to keep your eyes elsewhere, you’d occasionally catch the gap between the two of you growing smaller and smaller.

“What do you think of a sleepover tonight?”

Moon flinched, pausing mid-movement to process the question. “Sleepover? Tonight?”

“Mhm, I talked it out with Sun. Use the theater room and get pillows and blankets to cuddle up together.”

Harsh red lights lit up your face, nearly blinding you and risking waking the children. You slapped a hand over his eyes and they instantly dimmed. Well, that’s new.

You’d c-cuddle them? Of course, you’d done that before but that was…well before his current predicament. No, wait focus.

Your hand lingers on his eyes despite the light dimming, watching those tiny pinprick pupils stare at your hand. Oh right, it probably doesn’t feel great having someone’s hand on your eyes.

Before your hand can fully pull away and lose all contact Moon grabs it, shifting it to his cheek instead. It’s at that moment you feel his leg touch yours…he closed the gap you’d intentionally placed between the two of you.

Such a touchy little Moonpie.

[daffi-990]

WIP Wednesday 📝

Tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 & @thewolvesof1998

All the love for my last snippet from my Fantasy AU got the writing beans going and I got 2K written for it today ☺️.

A lot of you were so curious what happened to Bobby, so here is a snippet that explains things a bit. It’s set before the prev snippet I shared. I wrote this on the notes app of my phone and it’s a rough first draft so hopefully it reads well and makes sense. I really really wanted to share the whole 2K I wrote today because this girl loves validation, but I restrained myself so enjoy this long snippet instead xx

A pained groan from their right has Eddie shooting up quickly and moving towards-

“Bobby!” Buck is scrambling to his feet, feeling a bit like a newborn baby deer on wobbly legs as he closes the distance between them. He falls to his knees besides Eddie, who is helping Bobby sit up against a large rock. The arrow sticking out of Bobby’s side is surrounded by a sea of red that has spread across Bobby’s shirt. Eddie rips the fabric of the shirt open to reveal the entry wound, the smell of blood flooding Buck’s nose causing bile to rise in his throat that he quickly swallows back down.

“Shit.” Eddie hisses as he inspects the wound carefully.

Bobby winces in pain. “Eddie, you need to go.” His voice comes out strained, breaths sounding heavy with exertion and Buck is fucking terrified. He can’t lose Bobby. He can’t he can’t he can’t.

Eddie stills his hands, lifting his head to meet Bobby’s eyes. “Bobby- ”

“More are coming and you can’t fight them off alone.”

“I can fight.” Buck says with determination. Bobby made sure Buck was skilled in combat, and now Buck understands why. The soldiers hunting them aren’t going to stop if they best him. No, they’ll go for the killing blow. They’re battle hungry and fighting for a cause that they truly believe in, and that’s what makes them so dangerous, not the weapons or magic they’re wielding, though that certainly doesn’t help. Buck won’t deny that he’s scared, but he will not stand back and do nothing. “Bobby, I can fight. Let me protect you.” He pleads, blinking away the tears that have been building in his eyes. They trickle down his face, feeling warm and heavy with with grief.

Bobby smiles sadly at him, Eddie getting to his feet and stepping back to give them some space. “I know you can, Buck.” His hand lands on Buck’s neck, thumb a comforting weight on the hinge of his jaw. “But there’s fifteen more armed soldiers coming and the two of you can’t fight that many, not with so much at risk.” He looks pointedly at Buck now and Buck wants to scream and yell at whatever deity dealt him these cards. He closes his eyes against the fresh onslaught of tears. “You need to go. Eddie will protect you and keep you safe.”

Buck shakes his head vehemently. “No, no I’m not leaving you.” He won’t leave Bobby here to die alone, he’ll die with him if it comes down to it. Bobby saved Buck all those years ago, has been saving him every day of his life just by existing and loving him, now it’s Buck’s turn to return the favour. He opens his eyes and meets Bobby’s with a new sense of determination. He is not leaving him.

Bobby looks over Buck’s shoulder and gives a small nod of his head before strong arms are wrapping around Buck and pulling him away.

“No! I’m not leaving you!” Buck fights against Eddie’s arms, thrashing and kicking out, desperately trying to get back to Bobby. He is not leaving him. “Bobby! Don’t do this! Dad!”

“May Elrus guide your soul, Robert Nash.” Eddie says, Buck feeling the vibrations from his voice along his back before Eddie tightens his arms around Buck and then the ground beneath his feet is gone, air whipping around them as they shoot into the sky.

Buck yells, clutching onto Eddie’s arms, stomach swooping like he’s on the drop of a rollercoaster. A strong gust of wind blows and sends them soaring through the air, the shape of Bobby growing smaller and smaller until Buck can no longer see him through the haze of tears freely falling from his eyes.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @callmenewbie @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @lover-of-mine @theotherbuckley @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @ladydorian05 @spagheddiediaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @giddyupbuck @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @weewootruck @steadfastsaturnsrings @captain-hen @monsterrae1 @try-set-me-on-fire @the-likesofus @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

hey alyssa :)

I’m afraid I have to torment you about your charlos-divorce-wip, because they have me in an absolute chokehold atm and that trope is so so good🤪😍!

I‘d love to hear all about it☺️✨.

OKAY I HAVE RETURNED FROM WORK, I AM SHOWERED, I AM FED

So unfortunately joke's on you because this is the fic that only has approximately three paragraphs tossed into it with approximately 3 page breaks. (though the charlos casual fic doc is worse because all i have written in it is "is it casual now!!!!!)

more below the cut because i love monologuing apparently

I'm still trying to figure out the logistics of it, but it definitely started off with them having some undeniable chemistry, closeness and chemistry. I DO still have ideas swirling away about the possibility of some sort of "arranged marriage because ferrari is ferrari" plot but like....while it's compelling and it's my universe so i can do what i want, i'm still not sure how to logistically make it work.

The current rough plot is that they come across each other in a sex club after becoming teammates, they have chemistry, they enter a committed relationship (with a nifty D/s dynamic to go along with it), and things go really well.

Then SOMETHING happens. I have yet to decide if this is some sort of accident, or incident, but essentially Carlos blames himself, pulls back, and Charles is devastated about it, and things come to blows. Essentially, Charles loses his patience with being ignored and asks if Carlos wants a divorce, and Carlos says yes (out of pure like...shock and surprise)

So while they're working through the divorce and Carlos' last year with Ferrari, they start to realize they DON'T actually want to divorce each other. And it becomes more and more evident with like every damn Ferrari video they do and every win that Charles has etc. etc. etc. because the HUGS from this SEASON have been INSANE.

But like....does anyone really want to admit they made a big boo-boo so y'know....drama.

Anyhow the end goal is happy ending because why not.

ANYHOW, you asked so I will ALSO provide you with a snippet of the lil bit I have written

It’s devastating, really, the way that Charles looks when he reaches up for the collar around his neck, unbuckles it, sets it on the kitchen table. The way his fingers clench around it reflexively, as if he's hoping the buckle leaves an impression to remind him, as if he wants to put it back on. It’s devastating, when he pulls the ring off his finger, and sets it beside the collar, and then looks up at Carlos with those big green eyes, tears shimmering along his lash line. “Carlos,” his voice is small, and Carlos can’t help the guilt that twists in his gut at the words. God, he wishes he didn’t feel like this, like he’s fucked them over like this. 

It should be noted that I accidentaly cut this and pasted an f1 meme i'd sent to my friend in place of this when i tried to copy it. Thank god for undo. I hope you like it and IF YOU WANT MORE OR HAVE MORE QUESTIONS (or even suggestions) let me know.

Thank you DEARLY for the ask <3

[bakuliwrites]

Love Letters- Elliott x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Relationship: Elliott x Reader

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Oral S*x, PIV, Overstimulation, Elliott being corny and romantic, Outdoor S*x

Summary: My Muse! You inspire in me such vivid dreams that when I wake to find my bed empty, I despair! I ache for you, body and soul. How I long to return to you, scoop you up in my arms, and ravish you from evening until dawn (Beyond dawn! For dawn does not limit my undying love, my eternal passion for you). Though weary from this whirlwind tour, I am never too weary to show you the depths of my adoration for you. I will return to you early next week, and I am beside myself with excitement.

Elliott returns home from his book tour and the Farmer has a sultry surprise for him.

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

The pages of Elliott’s letters crinkle quietly in your hands as you leaf through them for what must be the thousandth time this week. Each one is so lovingly written, his messy script scrawled across every inch of paper. He’s even put little notes in the margins, snippets of poetry, and romantic little musings. The scent of his cologne lingers from the spritz he gave each envelope, tiny puffs of cedar and amber gracing your nose with each turn of the page. 

The majority of the content of each letter is Elliott’s very detailed account of his latest book tour: all the quaint bookstores he’s gotten to visit, the delectable delicacies he’s tried, the wonderful people he’s met. Elliott is a skilled storyteller, so even these parts are quite entertaining to you. However, it’s the sultry bits of prose that you’ve found yourself re-reading over and over again these last several weeks. Though a lot of it is cloaked in flowery imagery and grand proclamations of love, you’ve discovered your beloved writer has quite the filthy mouth when he puts his mind to it.

My darling, I stopped in at a historical bookstore yesterday: mahogany shelves from floor-to-ceiling, teeming with greenery in various pots and windowsills. A veritable atrium of knowledge and serenity. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass above me, painting the floor in vivid colors. I longed to peruse every ornate volume I passed. Yet, as I dragged my fingertips along the spines, all I could really think about is how desperately I wished you were at my side. Oh, what this bookstore inspired in me! Such sensual thoughts distracted me throughout the entire event I had there. I could hardly keep focused. I kept picturing us, intertwined amongst piles of novels. You, pressed up against the shelves, your gentle sighs filling me with vigor. 

The first time you read this, you had to pause tending to your crops and sit down for a while. You wrote back as soon as you could that evening, filling the page with every sultry daydream that had popped into your head as you went about your chores that day. You decided to include a little snapshot, something a bit naughty to keep Elliott company on his travels. Elliott’s response was even more detailed.

My darling, your last letter to me had me positively reeling. I should think your letter would have combusted as you wrote, the heat of your passionate words too much for such fragile paper to handle. And yet, it has managed to survive (I keep it in my breast pocket, pull it out when I have a moment of privacy. And the picture you sent! You’re a cheeky thing, my darling. And I, a lucky man). 

All I can think of is you, my star. When I sleep, I imagine us, picnicking under the shade of the willow on our farm. Long abandoned is our luncheon. When I am with you, I want for nothing. Nothing compares to my head buried in your supple thighs, breathing in your intoxicating perfume, my lips on yours. The taste of your sweet succor on my tongue. No food or drink is as satiating as you, my darling.

Weekly, and without fail, you have received letters from Elliott. It seems there hasn’t been a moment that has passed that he hasn’t been thinking of you. His final letter came just under a week ago, and he sounded more than eager to return.

My Muse! You inspire in me such vivid dreams that when I wake to find my bed empty, I despair! I ache for you, body and soul. How I long to return to you, scoop you up in my arms, and ravish you from evening until dawn (Beyond dawn! For dawn does not limit my undying love, my eternal passion for you). Though weary from this whirlwind tour, I am never too weary to show you the depths of my adoration for you. I will return to you early next week, and I am beside myself with excitement. 

Normally, you’d give Elliott a moment to breathe before pouncing on him. But he’s made it quite��clear about what he’s been missing on his book tour. So you’ve asked him to meet you under the willow in the far corner of your farm, out of sight of anyone who might accidentally wander onto your property. In this secluded area, you’ve set out a blue and white gingham blanket topped with a wicker basket filled with Elliott’s favorites: crisp starfruit wine, glistening red pomegranates, and homemade crab cakes. 

You’re expecting him home around lunchtime, so you’ve made sure to get all of your morning chores finished, before hopping in the shower, and prepping your afternoon picnic. While you wait, you prop yourself up against the trunk of the willow and go over Elliott’s letters once more, grateful for the shade on this sunny Spring day. You inspect your reflection in a nearby pond. Elliott loves you in all forms, in all appearances, but he does so love to go on and on about your natural beauty. So you've opted to greet him unabashed, unadulterated by any lingerie or make-up. You’ve chosen to wear a simple cotton dress, one he bought for you on his travels. Though you’re not ashamed to say you’ve got nothing on underneath. 

Lost in thought as you browse Elliott’s letters once again, you almost miss the sound of your beloved’s voice calling out to you. You perk up, setting your book to the side and smoothing out some invisible wrinkles in your dress. Just as you’re lifting yourself from the solid ground, the swaying branches of the willow part and you’re greeted by a gently beaming Elliott. 

“My darling!” he cries, dumping his rucksack rather unceremoniously to the ground and dashing towards you. 

“Welcome home!” you return, equally as exuberant, rushing towards him. He scoops you up into his arms, breathlessly gushing about how much he’s missed you between peppering your face with kisses. 

“You’ve no idea how happy I am to be reunited with you,” he breathes, cupping your face in his warm hands and leaning his forehead against yours. 

“I’ve missed you,” you exhale, softly nuzzling his nose with yours.

“And I, you,” he chuckles, unable to tear his hands away from you. They slide over your hips, bunching up the fabric of your dress in his desperate grasp. He practically has to wrench himself from you when he notices the picnic blanket behind you. His emerald eyes light up with joy.

“What’s all this?” he exclaims, pulling himself from you to examine the basket full of goodies. 

“In one of your letters you mentioned a lovely dream about picnicking under the willow,” you begin, smiling as you plop yourself down beside him on the blanket, “I thought it would be fun to re-enact it. But I thought that- perhaps you’d like dessert first?” 

You say this last part slowly, flashing a coy gaze his way, letting one of the sleeves of your dress slip down your shoulder. Elliott immediately gets your drift, green eyes flicking up to meet yours, an impish smile dancing on his lips. 

“I have been sorely missing your sweet delights,” he coos, leaning closer, his breath fanning gently against your lips.

“You’re so cheesy, El,” you giggle, before closing the distance and swallowing up Elliott’s laughter. 

“You love it,” he manages, delighting in your twittering laughter as he slides one of his large hands up your dress and massages the tender flesh of your hip. Elliott presses feverish kiss after feverish kiss against your lips, making up for weeks of longing. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his copper hair. How you’ve missed the sensation of running your hands through his locks, letting each strand pool through your fingers like silk. Elliott hums quietly into you as he plucks you off the ground and sets you carefully onto his lap. 

“You’re a vision, my darling,” he huffs, pulling back just long enough to catch his breath as he slips your other sleeve down your shoulder. Your dress pools around your waist while Elliott trails sloppy kisses down your neck, your collarbone, and finally the center of your chest. 

“I can’t be the only one bare to the elements,” you complain, though without much conviction behind your words. 

“Worry not, my star,” Elliott returns after a rumbling laugh, “I won’t make you face the elements alone.”  

He tugs off his red coat while you make quick work of his bright green tie, casting it aside and letting it flutter to the grassy ground beside you. Hastily, Elliott slips off his trousers and undergarments while you do away with your dress entirely. As you turn back to him, you feel his erection graze your inner thigh. 

“So eager, my love,” you purr, smoothing your hands over his chest, down his abdomen, and trailing the line of reddish hair that leads from his navel down to his groin. 

“Can you blame me?” he returns, sucking in a sharp breath when you teasingly drag the tip of your finger along his hardened cock. You push him back gently, letting him lie down on the soft blanket beneath you. 

“Hmm, what should we do about this?” you hum, giving him a few slow pumps. Elliott’s eyelids flutter shut and he can hardly help the moan that escapes his lips, chuckling ruefully at his reflexive response. 

“I can think of a few things,” he returns, a sliver of green peeking out from underneath his lashes, “But first-”

He stays your hand, grasping the supple flesh of your thighs and pulling you closer towards his face.

“Will you permit me to indulge?” he beseeches, giving you the most pathetic, wanton look you’ve ever seen. You consider his request for a moment, though mostly for show. You’ve already decided you would love for him to “indulge,” as he puts it, but watching Elliott’s flushed face give you the most needy look in the world is your own form of indulgence. 

“You may,” you finally grant, letting Elliott position you over his mouth. 

“You’re too kind to me, my love,” he whispers, each puff of his breath against your heat sending delightful shivers through your body. 

Before you can respond, Elliott yanks your hips down and presses his mouth against you. The wordsmith’s skilled tongue is good for all sorts of things, and not just storytelling. Slowly, Elliott circles your clit with the tip of his tongue while one of his hands grabs a fistful of your ass. The other makes its way up to your breast, thumb circling the sensitive bud of your nipple. You try your best not to grind too hard into him, but you can feel your legs quivering with the strain. Elliott’s nose bumps along the hood of your clit as he picks up his pace. He drags his tongue along the length of your heat, lapping you up like he’s been starved for months. 

Your core tightens, burns hotter with every new sensation Elliott brings to the table. His tongue is darting in and out of your entrance, his hands squeezing and kneading. The next thing you know, you’re seeing stars and unraveling above your beloved writer. He grips your thighs tight, holding you in place as he finishes you off, his moans echoing through your own body. 

“El!” you manage to squeak out as you ride him to completion. Your whole body is on fire, every nerve-ending alight with pleasure. When you’ve spent yourself, you slowly raise up and scoot back to give Elliott room to breathe again. 

Elliott is sun dappled under the veil of willow leaves, his hair sparking copper in the afternoon light. His emerald eyes are filled with wonder, the corners crinkling as he smiles affectionately up at you. His lips glisten with your arousal and when you lean down to capture his lips with yours, he tastes of you. Elliott’s tongue traces the edges of your teeth and you find yourself getting worked up once again. When you manage to pull back, you feather kisses along Elliot’s freckled cheeks before impishly gazing back at his still hardened dick. 

“I’d say it’s your turn, now, wouldn’t you?” you slyly suggest. For once, Elliott is lost for words, having to resort to vehemently nodding at your proposal. He tries to lift himself up, but you halt him with a deep, lingering kiss.

“Let me indulge, please?” you request, giving him a tender grin.

“Your wish is my command,” he speaks, voice crackly with a happy exhaustion, a joyous fatigue. You're delighted to do most of the work, especially given that he’s taken care of you so thoroughly and so well. You hover your entrance over his cock, steadying yourself by resting your hands on his abdomen before slowly lowering yourself onto him. The salacious groan Elliott lets out as you sheathe him inside you is enough to make you come again.

And then when you start to move- Oh, the sounds Elliott makes are just music to your ears. Every husky grunt, tiny mewl, or whimper sends electric tingles through your veins. Elliott’s hands are on your hips, helping you grind down into him as he pumps upwards. His green eyes are fixated on you, on every bounce of your breasts, every rolling motion of your hips.

“My darling! My Star!” he cries, his thumb pressing firmly to your clit before rotating it in quick motions. The double pleasure brings an unmitigated heat to your cheeks and the overstimulation after having just come down from your last orgasm is positively delicious. Elliott squeezes his eyes shut, his cheeks bright red. You can feel his cock twitching inside you. You’re not far behind him, your walls beginning to shudder. With a cry of your name, Elliott comes undone, threads of hot cum pouring into you. The coil in you breaks once again and all you can do is stifle your impassioned moans, head too foggy with pleasure for words. 

The two of you remain unioned, unmoving for a bit, allowing yourselves to catch your breath and float back down from your glorious high. When you’re ready, Elliott helps you lift yourself off him before laying you down beside him and pulling you close. He wraps his arms around you, firmly pressing his lips to yours. You linger for a while like this, lazily pressing kiss after kiss to one another, enjoying the gentle breeze that’s picked up over the course of the afternoon. Birds chirp cheerfully in the nearby trees and the distant sound of the train echoes through the valley.

“Thank you for this most wonderful surprise,” Elliott finally speaks, his sparkling eyes searching yours, “It was a wonderful coming home present.”

“I had a lot of detailed and vivid inspiration,” you giggle.

“Well,” Elliott beams, “I have an excellent muse.”

“You know,” you go on slowly, tracing the freckles on his shoulder with the tip of your finger before shooting him a mischievous look, “You wrote down a lot of inspiring scenarios, not all of them about picnics.”

He smiles knowingly, “I think we’ve got plenty of material to work with before my next tour date.” 

A/N: Make fun of me all you want, but I am a huge fan of cringey, cheesy, ridiculous foreplay banter. I just think it's good fun (and I think Elliott would be a pro at it). This was a super fun fic to write! I have been playing Stardew since it first came out and have loved Elliott throughout it all. He's such a sweetheart and so dramatic. I have been wanting to write a fic for him for a while! Thank you so much for reading! Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Lots of love 💜

[msmargaretmurry]

friend, what do you do when you haven't written (fan)fiction in more years than you can say for sure, and you're bitten by a character arc for a story that keeps spiraling into more and more as you think about it? i am feeling VERY overwhelmed especially as it becomes more about that character arc than the original plot idea. i remember you saying that you thought HAW was going to be like 40k and obviously it ended up much longer - having gone through that process, what did you learn? is there any advice you'd give, especially to someone already nervous to start doing something for the first time?

hello pal! i'm sorry you're having an anxious time of it but i'm excited to hear that you're flexing your writing muscles, and i hope that i can offer some helpful reassurances here!

the short answer is: you just write it. you just do it!!! ultimately the two choices here are write it or don't write it, and not writing it is way less satifying. yes yes WAY easier said than done though, so onto the long answer. 💞

trying to write again when you haven't written in a while can definitely be nerve-wracking, so first of all, i want to say that it's totally fine to be nervous. very normal of you! obviously you want your story to live up to the idea in your head, so it can be really hard to shake the whole feeling of, oh no what if it doesn't? what if my grand foray back into writing is an EMBARRASSING FAILURE?? so i also want to say that it will not be, because there is no such thing as failing at creativity, and i forbid you from being embarassed of anything you create while learning. writing is a never-ending learning process. the best writers you have ever read are the ones who embrace learning something new every time they write. i would say this even if it hadn't been years since you last wrote, but especially since it's been years since you last wrote, but it is imperative to remember that you have to start somewhere. to quote the great sam reich, the only way to begin is by beginning.

my #1 tip for if you're working on a story and it feels like it wants to be long and you have a lot of thoughts and ideas and feelings about it is to WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN. don't make yourself try to remember it all. i use a note in my notes app for this, but you can use a physical notebook or a google doc or whatever works for you.

this isn't for writing the actual fic — you might end up with snippets of scenes in here but nothing more than a few lines. this is for literally anytime you think of something for your story, into the note it goes, as soon as possible, so you don't have to worry about remembering it. a fact you learn, a future story beat you want to hit, a line of dialogue you want to include in a future scene, a lyric that inspires you, a reminder to include a detail or reference. i also use mine to keep a list of subplots/running themes — things you don't want to fall off your own radar and wind up forgotten halfway through.

you don't need to check your note/document/whatever every time you write, but if you're an outliner you can use it to periodically update your outline, and besides that, occasionally referring back to it is great for a) sparking inspiration for where the story goes next, and b) reminding you to go back and be like, hm, how long has it been since i referenced [subplot]? maybe it's time for that to make another appearance!

i also ALSO use mine to keep a list of things i know i'm going to want to go back and edit for once i have a full draft. i don't know about you, but i am a CHRONIC edit-as-i-go-er and doing this has helped me so much with being able to take a deep breath, accept that something in the draft probably needs fixing, and know that i won't forget about it. i no longer have the HAW version of this note (because i delete things out of mine as i address them, so by the end of writing the story the note is empty 😂) but iirc it had things like — make sure it's clear that matthew is kind of a mama's boy, double-check the pacing/frequency of matthew's big intrusive thoughts, make sure we know where bowie is for scenes in leon's house.

regarding the story becoming more about the character arc than the original plot idea, try to let go of your expectations of what the story was supposed to be and instead try to approach it with a mindset of discovering what the story is going to be. this will give you a lot more freedom to let it grow and change without feeling like you're abandoning something. the reason HAW got so long is because, when i started, i had two big plot beats that i knew i wanted to get to (the first breathplay scene and the first kiss scene) and as i was writing, i kept thinking to myself, okay i need x y z and then i get to tackle that big plot beat. so i would write x y z only to discover that i still needed more development to make it feel earned. so i just wrote more development! this did mean letting go of the conception of the story's structure i had going in, when i thought it would be shorter, but it ultimately let the beats fall in the right places.

(obviously letting your story sprawl however it wants to isn't always the the best thing you can do for a piece of fiction. but in character-driven stories, in my opinion, it's vital to give the character the space they need. and if it sprawls too much, you can always edit it down later. you can learn stuff about your characters from scenes you wind up cutting or from versions of scenes that don't end up working just as much as from the scenes you nail.)

if you think it'll help with motivation, get yourself an alpha reader. enlist a friend that you trust to be what you need them to be in this role. for me, it's that i can trust when i send them the next 5–10k chunk of first draft that they will read it at their earliest convenience (not letting it sit for days), that they will be invested in following the story (i once had an alpha reader tell me that they had totally forgotten about a major story development in the week or so between one chunk and then next chunk, and it devastated me), and that they will understand that as i'm grinding out the first draft, i need enthusiasm and encouragement, and concrit ONLY if there's a major issue. concrit is the realm of my beta readers.

everyone's writing process is different, so if there's stuff here where you're like, ugh i hate that idea, feel free to ignore it! or modify it! just don't spend so much time tinkering with planning and research and playlists and outlines etc that you don't actually write. occasionally a good writing sesh CAN be 98% tinkering, but most of them should not be.

finally, let yourself enjoy the process. don't put pressure on yourself to finish it quickly so you can feed it to the internet for comments and kudos. comments and kudos are, of course, fantastic, and also it's fine to set yourself arbitrary goals/deadlines if that helps you (e.g. "writing"i'm going to write 3,000 words a week" or "i'm going to finish this section of story by the end of the month") but try not to get stressed if it's taking longer than expected to write, or it turns out you want to add more than expected to the story. it's worth it to have a story you're happy with.

sometimes writing can be really hard and frustrating, but that doesn't mean you're doing it badly. sometimes you need to talk an issue through with a friend. sometimes it takes a few tries to figure out how a scene should go. sometimes you need to let a plot problem rotate like a $2 hotdog on the gas station hotdog roller of your brain for a couple of days before the solution comes to you in a vision at the most inconvenient time possible. (jot it down in your notes app before you forget it.)

anyway. good luck and i believe in you ❤ you know where to find me if you need to complain about writing/talk through something/get a pep talk!

[tenrousei-kuroi]

i came to ask if you’re planning on posting the sequel rapture on the lonely shore but now i’m desperate to hear about the remus/regulus fic!!!

Yes! I am just going to post it. I was originally emailing copies to people but 1. I think I missed a few emails along the way, which is embarrassing, and 2. That was soooo long ago when I thought that what I'd written was too scandalous for the public world and meanwhile I've sailed *way* past that point now, so I think it can just be posted lol. Just gotta' dig it back up out of whatever folder it was festering in on my old laptop. Might should clean it up a skosh, too, that was teenage-me writing, who knows how well it's aged TT.TT

...In regards to the other fic, I too am desperate to hear about my Regulus/Remus story, because my brain's been cockblocking my progress on the very final chapter ೭੧(❛〜❛✿)੭೨ (I kid, I kid, it's getting there. The finish line is in sight, I'm just moving at a snail's pace lately and I'm trying to train myself not to post so many WIPs until they're closer to *done*...)

But here's a snippet of the general vibe, if you're interested:

┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

On the last day of term, Lupin found him by the lake.

“Oi, Regulus, get through potions all right? I heard you were a mite nervous about that one.”

Regulus looked up from his sandwich. “Who told you that?” He’d been relaxing beneath one of the somber willow trees by the water with a few of his classmates, but they’d both taken off to swim, leaving him alone when Lupin approached.

“Just something I heard,” Lupin said. “So...did you survive without too much strife?”

“Yes, thank you,” Regulus said with a curt nod. His skin tingled warily as Lupin sat down beside him. Regulus looked around nervously.

“Relax,” Lupin assured him, tossing his bag next to Regulus’s and stretching out, arms behind his head on the grass. “I’m not about to start snogging you in public, just visiting. Nothing suspicious, I swear.”

Regulus coughed, choking a little on some bread. “Not as if—I mean, you’d not want—you’re not here to ask that of me, are you?”

Regulus averted his eyes. Lupin chuckled lightly beside him, leaning up onto his side. He tapped his fingers rhythmically against Regulus’s crossed legs. “I don’t know, what would your answer be?”

Regulus sighed deeply. “I suppose yes.”

Lupin sat up fully, looking at him curiously. “You suppose?” he asked.

Regulus shrugged. “Well I’ve not got much choice, have I? Given everything you overheard in the library between me and my brother...I suppose I’m not really in a position to refuse you anything, am I?”

Lupin frowned. “I didn’t overhear much of anything, Regulus. Sirius told me.”

“He...he did?” Regulus gasped, a hotness prickling at his eyes.

“Yes,” Lupin insisted.

“I can’t believe it,” Regulus muttered, dejected. “He swore…”

“And you believed him?” Lupin laughed pityingly. “Poor thing,” he carded a hand through Regulus’s hair, and Regulus merely swayed back and forth from the force of it, a blank look in his eyes.

“O—okay,” he said shakily.

“Okay, what?”

Regulus sat up a bit straighter. “Okay l—let’s do your suggestion. But later somewhere. Send me a note or something and let me know where to find you,” he added a bit more confidently.

“Do wha—oh, you mean kiss?” Lupin was smiling fondly.

“Yes,” said Regulus firmly. He stood up and began to gather his bag and cloak. “And...and whatever else that we’re supposed to do.”

“Great then,” said Lupin. “I’ll send for you tonight.”

“I’ll come,” Regulus promised recklessly. Then he dashed away before he could change his mind.

[bodhranwriting]

Captain Alaric’s Demise by Bodhrán M.

(I’m clearing out my PC so I thought I’d share some very old snippets from various works I may or may not go back to)

(This draft was written May, 2017, so I was eighteen years and one month old. I’ve improved significantly since then.)

As soon as the study door swung shut behind them, Fyvie snapped, “What in Myrimus’ name are you doing? Where have you been?”

“Working on something.” Thorne shrugged off the grey fisherman’s oilskin and stored the sack in the desk.

“What is in that?”

“Materials,” Thorne said as he sat down in the chair.

Fyvie glared at his employer. His hair and clothes were damp, and he smelt of the ocean. His hands were scraped and salt-reddened, grains of sand clinging to his skin. But he was smiling, completely relaxed.

“Are you alright?” Fyvie asked more quietly.

“Of course,” Thorne replied easily. He held up his hands and his grin became more rueful, “I wasn’t concentrating and hit some rapids. No harm done.”

Fyvie nodded like he understood. Planting his hands on the desk and exhaling heavily, he said, “You should have left a note. I was worried.”

“My, how the times have changed.” Thorne raised a pale eyebrow and leant back in his chair, folding his arms. “I remember us having that conversation with you. Many, many times. Besides, Giles, I am an adult and in no way obligated to inform you of my constant whereabouts.”

Fyvie closed his eyes in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I’m implying and you know it. If you haven’t noticed, Felix, you’re not exactly a popular man at the moment.”

“Still –“

“Still any one of the other nobles could’ve sent a servant to go knock you over the head. You could have gotten robbed. That damned wizard and his friends could have grabbed you. You could have drowned…”

“The last one is unlikely,” Thorne said defensively. “And none of the nobles would stoop to something so common.”

Fyvie thought of the sneering not-quite-threats in the court. “To them you are common,” he said, “They like poetic justice.”

“I can take care of myself,” Thorne drummed his fingers on the table.

Seeing an opening, Fyvie pressed his point. “I know that,” he said quietly, “But I’d rather be able to help if something does happen. How’d you like it if something happened to me and there wasn’t anything you could do?”

It was the wrong point. Thorne’s face hardened. “That was low, Giles.”

“Then maybe you’ll listen to me,” Fyvie stumbled over his words, watching as Thorne’s gaze flickered between the desk, the door, and upstairs. “You skulking about by yourself and not telling anyone what you’re doing while you have at least five people braying for your blood is the kind of thing you, Dad, and Mam would have had my arse for.”

“For very good reason,” Thorne growled. He stood up, smoothing down his trousers and running a hand through his salt-wired hair. “That’s how you get yourself killed.” Perhaps realising his mistake, he added in an offhanded tone, “And then I would never be able to go near a large body of water for the rest of my life because your parents would drown me.”

“Then why aren’t you telling me anything? What the fuck are you up to?”

[eternal-silvertongued-prince]

Rules: post 3 snippets from published work and 3 from your wips

Oh boy, having to choose which WIP to take snippets from took way too long.

Published:

The Thanksgiving Dilemma

The heat that radiated off his body was a surprising contrast to his normally chilled hands. The need for air finally broke the kiss, but it didn’t stop him from stealing a few more pecks. “You–  Severus, overwhelm me in the most wonderful way.” You pulled away just enough to see his whole face. “Whenever you are around it’s as if all my thoughts cease to exist and there is only you. The simplest of your touches render me without breath. Severus, you have no idea how long I have been waiting, hoping, to hear that you felt the same way that I did about you.”

Family

"...what are you doing still standing there! Get into something cosy so you can help your wife and child out decorating this tree.” You spun him around and gave his tush a tap to get him moving. His glare was harmless, but the smile was sincere. He gave you one last kiss and bent down to give your belly one for good measure as well.

A Birthday to Remember

It seems that you weren’t the only one who noticed Severus zoom by because the second he disappeared around the corner, two Slytherins beside you began a hushed (not really) whisper. “There goes Snape again. Do you think that bloke has a single friend?” “Not that I know of. Heard Lucius say that it’s his birthday tomorrow. Wonder if…” The rest of their conversation was lost on you. It was his birthday tomorrow?! That’s it!

WIP:

Be My Valentine

It was abundantly clear to everyone after the years of being single and alone, that he was not a fan of the holiday. So why in the nine realms did an owl drop off a bloody Valentine for him? Thinking it was a mistake, he grabbed the paper and cautiously flipped it over. Sure enough, written on the top in white ink was one Severu– wait. Did he read that correctly? Bringing his finger to the paper, he traced over the faint ridges imprinted by the delicate script that definitely spelt out his name. Okay… so it wasn’t an illusion of some sort, and all his years of solidarity have not rendered him delusional. His fingers tightened around the note as he stood abruptly to leave the hall, not giving breakfast a second thought. In his rush to separate himself from the rest of Hogwarts, he failed to notice a pair of eyes follow his frame as it made its way out the door.

Duelling Partner for Life

“Yeah, to be fair, I am a little bit of a sore loser.” “You and Professor Snape went on a date?!?” The students could not fathom the idea of their tall, rude, and snarky Professor going on a date, let alone be interested in someone as bright and happy as you. “Dates”, you corrected. “He and I still go on them whenever the time allows it.” “Why?” A Gryffindor pipes up from the side. Snape answers before you can say anything. “It is as if that is what people who are in a relationship do.” Sarcasm heavy in his voice as you giggle at his response.

Reminisce

“Normally I would not take any help from anyone, especially not a student, but seeing as this is a real urgency and you are not totally incompetent in potions, I suppose an extra set of hands would not be the worst thing. We could certainly produce more than enough to hold the school at bay with this retched virus going around.” “Wow, that was the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.” His nose twitched as he tried to suppress the sneer on his face. “What else would you want from me?” “Maybe a please, professor” you smirked. “Don’t push it Miss L/N.” “Very well, sir. Let’s get started then, shall we?”

BONUS WIP (Bc I feel so bad being MIA for so long)

Snape took a sip from the tumbler you placed in front of him, letting the amber liquid warm his throat. “You were my favourite student, you know?” “Really? That's surprising and not at the same time. You were my favourite professor.” He shot you a look with raised eyebrows as if to tell you he hardly believed that. As skeptical as he looked, you couldn't help but laugh at how absurd it also sounded to you. “It’s true. It just so happened that you taught my favourite subject, too.” “Does that mean I have to watch out for you trying to take my job?” He drily stated as he took another sip. You chuckled and moved to clean up behind the bar just to keep your hands busy. “No need to worry. I am applying for the open DADA position.” He looked sullen for a second before replying, “You’d make a good DADA professor.” You stopped what you were doing because hearing that from him certainly surprised you. “You really think so?” A smirk appeared on his face.

[il-predestinato]

Elle, you are actually writing a Hogwarts AU???? 🙈🙈🙈 When is it set timeline wise? What year are they in? Houses I think I know, but the rest???

Hi Pi! Oooh, I mostly have notes on this one and not much written! Except for this little snippet (probably a cut scene rather than part of the fic). I'll share another super short snippet and then some rambling answers to your questions: 😁

Before Max could blink the sleepiness out of his eyes, he was already soberly aware that he was - most unfortunately - alone in bed. After a disgruntled rub across his eyelids, he was able to crack open enough of a slit to glare at the empty pillow beside his own. A head-shaped indent stared back at him mockingly. A torn piece of parchment sat neatly at the centre of the indent.

He snatched it up and frowned at Charles’ offending penmanship:

‘Had to take care of a secret Slytherin thing something’ followed by a creepy scribble of a smiling niffler (or perhaps a Dementor - Max couldn’t be certain, no matter how long he squinted at the poorly drawn lines; no one would ever accuse Charles of possessing artistic talent).

‘Meet in the Prefect's bathroom at 0800!’

“Maybe I won’t,” grumbled Max as he crumpled up the piece of paper. Of course you will, he can almost hear Charles’ self-assured, scoffing rebuttal.

He grabbed his wand from under his pillow and casted a silent “Incendio.” The Silencing Charm that Charles cast around Max’s four poster bed from the previous evening had likely worn off by now. He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face as he watched as small embers transformed the parchment into ash. While Charles may be uniquely gifted at wandless magic, Max still had him beat in nonverbal spells - much to the chagrin of his Slytherin rival (sometimes friend always thorn in the side occasional bedmate).

-

Some notes:

Timeline wise: 2013-ish because they are 15 (fifth years)

Both are still born in 1997 (kind of cool that canonically both would be born at the height of the second wizarding war)

Max is a Gryffindor and Charles is a Slytherin

Story is a long-ish one shot. Title is "Unforgivable"

My base storyline is borrowed from a quest in the Hogwarts Legacy game (minor spoiler alert):

Charles has a sick family member at St. Mungo's who is suffering from a blood curse and is basically beyond all magical help. There is a secret Slytherin spell book hidden in the Scriptorium (think Chamber of Secrets, but a different room) rumoured to lead to a spell/artifact that cures dark curses, so Charles wants to retrieve it. Max is ... not a fan of this idea, because Slytherin was a pretty dark wizard and all around bad guy, so nothing good can possibly come out of this. But it's Charles so of course he chooses to help and goes down to the Scriptorium with him. There are a few tests (e.g. puzzles, speaking Parseltongue, etc.), each unlocking a set of gates, but you can't turn back because the gates lock behind you as well. At the last gate, there are a bunch of creepy skeletons (because people died here after getting stuck) and tortured faces on the gate/the world "Crucio" engraved on the floor. Max and Charles figure out that in order to pass the final test and not starve/die down there, they must successfully cast Crucio. And that's really the climax of the story. Who is going to cast it on who? Also, as Bellatrix explained in the books, you must have intent and truly want to cause pain and suffering to succeed in casting it... In the Hogwarts Legacy game, three characters are involved in the story: Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, and Y/N [aka. player character] (yes, don't worry, I'm laughing at myself for using this term given my well known 'love' for uh... imagines 🤢). Ominis refuses to cast Crucio. It comes down between Y/N vs. Sebastian. In my fic, Charles would be loosely based on Sebastian, and Max is a combo of Ominis and Y/N (sorry, I can't keep a straight face whenever I type this.) Let's just say I have an entirely DIFFERENT idea as to how this plays out between Max and Charles (can anyone guess?) compared to the game.

Other super random details from my notes:

Charles and Max have a fierce quidditch rivalry (yes, there was an inchident with a puddle, because the puddle is a universal constant, a fixed point in time and space if you will).

Both are Chasers (but they do like challenging each other to one-on-one seeker games).

Max made the Gryffindor team in his first year (just like the Boy Who Lived) which irks Charles (who made the Slytherin team in his second year).

Charles' Slytherin teammates include George (beater), Lando (chaser), and their new seeker (Oscar).

Max's teammates include Carlos (chaser, Head Boy) and used to include Lewis (chaser, graduated).

Max really likes the grass flavour of Bertie Bott's every flavour beans and one time, Charles bought like - 200 boxes of every flavour beans and spent all night picking out all the grass flavoured ones to put into one box to gift to Max.

Charles is better at wandless magic - raw and uncontrolled power - but Max is better at nonverbal magic - precision and controlled power.

Charles is great at Charms and [hilariously] Divination (umm... he IS called 'il predestinato'), Max is great at Transfiguration and Potions. Both are excellent at Arithmancy (math nerds) and DADA.

Max's wand is vine, 12 ¾ inches, phoenix feather, reasonably supple. Charles's wand is yew, 12 ½ inches, dragon heartstring, fairly stiff. And yes, I spent like 30 minutes reading up on wandlore until I was happy with the choices. 🤣

[theharrowing]

Patience. We're getting there.

You are moments away from meeting Hoseok's family and trying not to spiral, and Hoseok is a calming presence who keeps you grounded.

🤍 Hope for the Holidays Hoseok x Non-Binary (afab) Reader

🤍 word count: ≈ 640

🤍 established relationship, angst if you squint, fluff, sfw

🤍 warnings: none! this is just a sweet little moment where mc almost feels icky feels but Hoseok is there to make them feel better.

🤍 notes: the government name for this fic should be Patience, Marshmallow. We're getting there. but it felt too long.

🤍 written for the Harrow’s Holiday Cheer Event, requested by @absentcaryatid 🎈 happy belated birthday, my darling Elizabeth!!! i so appreciate you for requesting something nice and soft for this event! thank you for being such a good friend, as well as dedicated reader!!! it was hard stopping myself from writing a lot more, but i felt like this snippet was really nice. enjoy!!!

🤍 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🤍 posted jan. 2024

You feel antsy. 

Your relationship with Hoseok has been an absolute whirlwind since day one. And now, after an incredible year of knowing one another, you are in a rental car in the busy, snowy streets of Gwangju, South Korea, on your way to meet his parents. 

You almost came here back in February when Hoseok visited for Lunar New Year, but it had been too long since he had been back home, and you felt strange about tagging along. You still feel strange about it, but Hoseok was so sweetly emphatic about you coming that you couldn't bring yourself to stay in your shared apartment all alone. 

Although it would certainly not be a repeat of last Christmas in any sense of the word, it is hard not to think about past holiday events with the ex, and with the family you never felt like you fit in with. What if this visit feels the same? What if you feel just as out of place on the other side of the world as you had on the other side of the country? What if there is nowhere that feels right?

Hoseok must be able to sense your nerves, and he reaches over the center console of the rental car, firmly holding your hand while keeping the other on the steering wheel. You smile but you can tell that it is unconvincing. Hoseok chuckles. 

"Don't look so scared, marshmallow," he teases, giving your hand a squeeze. "My mom can't wait to meet you. Whenever I call, she tells me all about how happy she is that you will be here."

You believe Hoseok—how could you not? His family has been nothing but welcoming, even from such a great distance.

"I shouldn't tell you this," Hoseok says conspiratorially, mouth stretched into a wide smile while his eyes stay on the road, "it was meant to be a surprise, but when I told mom about your gift from last year, she became excited to have you cook with her."

Words fail you, and you open your mouth to flounder through shapes of syllables before landing on, "Wh— me?"

With another chuckle and another gentle squeeze, Hoseok glances at you briefly to say, "Yes, you. She hasn't stopped talking about it. So I hope you are ready to learn some family recipes, because she takes it seriously."

The idea would be daunting if it weren't so heartwarming. Hoseok's mother wants you to join her in the kitchen while she prepares food for the family holiday dinner. She trusts you to help her.

"Besides, my sister won't lift a finger in the kitchen, so I know she will appreciate having you there."

At this, you laugh, feeling weight lift from your shoulders as joy explodes from your chest. 

You tease, "Oh, so I'm just a replacement for your sister, hmm?" while your eyes never leave Hoseok's profile. 

He waggles his eyebrows, then glances at you and begins to laugh. This is always the way things are with Hoseok: light and fun. 

"How much longer?" you ask, eyes taking in the tall snow-covered apartment buildings and the bustling sidewalks filled with pedestrians and shoppers. You had just asked less than five minutes ago, and can surmise that the answer has only changed by the same amount. 

"Patience, marshmallow," Hoseok teases. "We're getting there."

Patience is a lot easier said than done, and you sigh dramatically, making Hoseok laugh once more. Rather than respond, you take in the calmness of the soft song playing on the radio accompanied by Hoseok's melodic happiness. 

"I'm excited," you say softly after a long moment while your gaze drops to your conjoined hands. Emotion swells, and you feel a bit choked up as your mouth stays in a smile. 

Hoseok says, "Good." Nice and simple. And you couldn't agree more. 

Everything feels good. 

🥺🥺🥺 this one felt like such a warm hug while i was writing it. i hope you agree!!! 🥰🥰🥰

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD IF THIS HELLSITE AND LIKES ARE SUPER APPRECIATED TOO!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

tag list: @btsiguess-kpop @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @idkjustlovingbts @itsmina29 @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki 🤍 want to be tagged in everything i write? or just my member x reader content? send me a message!

🎈 check out more drabbles from the Harrow’s Holiday Cheer Event!

Patience. We're getting there. is copyright 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. reposts and translations are not allowed.

[chayscribbles]

chayscribbles’ monthly writing update ☆ august/september 2023 double feature

☆ STATISTICS.

words written: 4273 in august; none in september BUT that's because i did a lot of revising

projects worked on: Gemini Heist in august; Andromeda Rogue in september, then procrastinated so hard i ended up writing a few paragraphs on Third, Secret Wip

proudest accomplishment: i compiled all my AR1 beta feedback without giving in to the urge to set the book on fire and also myself

books read: Network Effect (Murderbot Diaries #5) by Martha Wells

☆ GENERAL COMMENTS.

so basically i started off august decently solid, working on gemini heist while andromeda rogue was off being torn apart by the betas. (i'm joking. it didn't get torn apart. i think you guys were being way too nice actually.)

and then all kinds of shit hit the fan in my personal life all at once in mid-august. both good and bad. it was a lot.

anyways the first half of september was spent recovering from all that, BUT i took a week off work mid-september to catch my breath and also get back into writing, and it was really good for me.

on another note! i am very seriously considering making an etsy shop for some of my art, because as much as i loathe the thought of monetizing my hobbies, we are living in a cost of living crisis, and i don't wanna be in my ice water soup era forever, ha. anyways stay tuned. (and if you think it would be a good idea/you think yourself or others would be interested in buying things PLEASE LET ME KNOW. EXPLICITLY. because otherwise i will assume no one cares and the idea will fizzle out.)

more specific wip-related comments + featured excerpt below.

☆ COMMENTS: ANDROMEDA ROGUE (draft 2 editing)

i went through all the beta comments during my week off and while i am glad it doesn't look like i'll have to do any more BIG rewrites, editing sucks and i want to give up.

☆ COMMENTS: THE GEMINI HEIST (draft 0.5. okay fine it's draft 1 but i feel better about myself if i call it draft 0.5 okay)

honestly when i was working on this feels sooo long ago i don't even remember what there is to say?

i hit 20K at some point in august. i think.

OH YEAH i "finished" act 2/7. the quotation marks are because i absolutely did not finish it, i only finished writing all the main plot-relevant scenes and skipped anything else. which means there's like a whole chapter and a half that haven't actually been written bc they're probably gonna be exposition or character building stuff that i haven't figured out yet and i'm hoping will be easier once i know what actually happens in the rest of this story. (reminder that i am a plantser.)

anyways i suspect this wip will be going dormant again for a while as i focus on getting AR ready for publishing. (sidenote it's been over a year since i started the GH draft and i feel like i've done fuck all on it besides come up with useless lore and make extremely specific playlists. world's slowest writer. the playlists slap, though.)

☆ FEATURED EXCERPT.

uh have this random snippet of Euna about to pop off!

Somewhere far, far, away, Leo was shouting, “Just get your ass out of there, Li!” but her voice seemed muffled in Euna’s ears, blocked out by the rage that had been steadily mounting ever since that guard shot her arm and ruined the fight for her. All she could hear was the blood rushing through her own ears, the buzz of the guard’s electrified gauntlets, the crackle of the electricity in her own hand. She reared her good fist back and slammed it into the guard’s face. Their nose made a sickening crunch against Euna’s knuckles. Blood flowed down over their mouth and chin as they staggered back, but Euna wasn't done. Her right arm, still spouting sparks, swung into the side of their head, finally bringing them down. Before they could get up again, Euna dropped on top of them, pinning them to the ground with her knees on their chest. She grabbed their shoulders and yanked their upper body off the floor, preparing to slam them down one last time— Purple light surrounded her. For a frightening second, she couldn’t move. Then she was thrown off the guard and dragged, upside-down, through the air towards the exit.

☆ TAGLISTS. let me know if you want to be added/removed to any of them.

general taglist:

@nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @onomatopiya @quilloftheclouds @ashen-crest @writeblrfantasy @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @extra-magichours @avi-why @lefttigerobservation @chazzawrites @bardolatrycore @innocentlymacabre

andromeda trilogy taglist:

@bebewrites @nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @onomatopiya @akindofmagictoo @quilloftheclouds @nora-theteawriter @ashen-crest @corpsepng @writeblrfantasy @toboldlywrite @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @cheerfulmelancholies @extra-magichours @writeouswriter @cilly-the-writer @lefttigerobservation @rose-bookblood @drowsy-quill @chazzawrites @cynic-and-chief @enchanted-lightning-aes @aesa @outpost51

gemini heist taglist:

@florraisons @akindofmagictoo @cream-and-tea @nicola-writes @memento-morri-writes @antique-symbolism @rose-bookblood @afoolandathief @pepperdee @avi-why @zonnemaagd @chazzawrites @analogued @enchanted-lightning-aes @innocentlymacabre @kahvilahuhut @celestepens @cilly-the-writer @extra-magichours @onomatopiya @outpost51

[dont-call-me-algernon]

Ty @circeancity for the tag!!

RULES: Reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

The thing is, I don’t have a single wip folder, but a different wip folder for each fandom. Meaning I have something like 20wips at a time, in various states of abandonment… yeah. So I think I’m gonna stick to the ones I’ve edited/added to at least once in the last month, for this one!

1. dead ringers

A pre-canon first meeting one shot about the citrus killers from Bullet Train, written by me for me basically, given the almost non-existent fandom for this book. Unfortunately a case of “I have everything written and more or less edited EXCEPT the last few paragraphs, how do you even end a fic”.

[...] "It's a bit freaky from up close, isn't it?"

"I beg you pardon?" He scoffed, affecting annoyance for being suddenly addressed by a stranger.

"Too bad there can only be one," the other man said, a small grin beginning to form at the corner of his mouth. Tangerine almost expected him to laugh and exclaim something along the lines of ‘oh, I always wanted to say that!’. How cliché. "And that would be me. You can save your energies. If I could be killed, I would be already dead," but then he backtracked, "Then again, if you went down without a fight, it would be kind of a bummer. So try to put up a little resistance, yeah?"

2. fishbones

I recently made a mistake, and that mistake was getting into Funger (Fear & Hunger). Now everyone must put up with my rare pair shenanigans over there too. I’m prooobably gonna keep the title, unless I come up with anything better by the time I've finished writing it (very unlikely). Also – small warning for people chit-chatting during an impromptu autopsy, I guess??

[...] "Much obliged," the doctor said, offering him a thin smile that looked almost as out of place on his gaunt features as the rest of him, with his eccentric slacks and silken bow tied around his collar, did in a devastated village turned warzone. "Henryk, was it?"

"At your service," he replied mechanically and regretted it at once. He didn't want him to get any creative ideas about his willingness to help with his current task.

"Let me tell you, Henryk, you'd make for a terrible pickpocket," the other remarked as he drew another cut along the dead man's sternum.

3. bank time babyyy

Incredibly silly working title for an incredibly self-indulgent Death Note fic about “what if some of the corrupt yotsuba execs had lived long enough to be able to react to the events of the 2020 one shot (re: the new Kira using yotsuba bank for his plan)???”

[...] "Somehow, the board still believe it’s an elaborate publicity stunt."

"And you decided you’re going to let them," Mido concluded for him. "They must think we have the strangest concept of guerrilla marketing."

"Only until I'm able to fix this…" he seemed on the cusp of adding something – situation, debacle, utter trainwreck – before likely resolving that no Japanese word could do justice to the absurdity of their predicament. "I never thought I'd be grateful for the depth of human stupidity, but here we are," he gave way to another pause, marked by an almost solemn intake of breath preluding to what, from his perspective, must have been a pretty humiliating admission. "I'll need your help. And your spirits."

Besides @bespectacled-bookwyrm I’m… not really sure who else among my mutuals has any active wips, so I’m gonna tag them and anyone else who may want to do this little game, as usual.

[purkinje-effect]

WIP Ask Game

Rules: Post the names of the files of your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you asks with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. If you want, tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I was tagged by @fuzzyizmit a few days ago. Thanks for the tag <3

It's kinda hard for me to quantify the wips I've got going because my GDocs is very disorganized, and many of my wip's have multiple files. A majority of my last, like, fifty documents correlates to one of the following. My file names aren't usually more descriptive than the chapter I'm on, or "___ Thing," ngl...

Focal: Anatomy of Melancholy (Fallout 4, Sole Survivor; Ch's 96, 97, 98 currently on the block) File titles: Lucky You, Nothing Beside Remains, Recalibrating Route I make new files every time I need to mega-update my outlines, and I have outlines for Anatomy at the series, book, arc, and chapter level. It gets messy fast. I usually keep track of them with a version number when I remember to. I think Book III Arc 2 outline is up to version 4.

Backburner: The Uptake (original biopunk body horror; racking my brain over how to reboot/revise it) File titles: Uptake overhaul

Backburner: Syzygy (Fallout 76; fic for my 76 resident/OT3; it'll likely change names before any of it gets posted) File titles: Macrogen, Pathogen Mode

Backburner: Purkinje Effect (Fallout 4; been waffling on some backstory/lore edits for Geek for some time now, and it's been hard to tell just how much of it would necessitate editing existing chapters) File titles: Purk notes, PSS dump

Indefinite Hiatus: Ours Is the Kingdom (Fallout mashup, for my Appalachian; if I keep rebooting this thing, it'll never get written, sdflksh) File titles: Mutual Destruction

If you see this and want to fill it out, consider yourself tagged.

[television-overload]

Fanfic end of year asks:

1. favorite fic you wrote this year, 3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year, 5. most popular fic this year, 7. longest completed fic you wrote this year, 14. a fic you didn’t expect to write, 23. fics you wanted to write but didn't

Ooh yay! All great questions, let's see...

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

Man, I honestly don't know. For NCIS, probably How Does a Moment Last Forever just because I tend to be happier with one shots as a whole than with multichaps. Plus, I really love writing Tony and little Tali.

For X-Files, which I just watched this year and started writing for, probably Beautiful. I love writing bittersweet fics, if you can't tell.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Scene? Probably when Tony and Ziva are making dinner together in the Boxed In chapter of my Season 3 fic.

As for line... hmm, I don't know. Maybe something from the Star Wars Obi-Wan/Satine fic I'm writing, adapting The Sound of Music storyline 😂 but I usually only talk about that on my Star Wars sideblog lol

5. most popular fic this year

By hits for a fic *written* this year: Yeah, that's the Sound of Music Star Wars fic hahaha, and then my Season 3 NCIS story.

By kudos is actually sh-boom for the X-Files fandom, which kind of surprises me. It was the first one I posted for the fandom and was written on a whim, but I really do like it.

7. longest completed fic you wrote this year

"Completed" is the problem, here 😂. Beautiful (X-Files) is the longest at 4,985 words, because I'm excluding stuff I wrote years ago and only just uploaded to AO3. BUT the aforementioned Star Wars fic (incomplete) is the longest thing I've written ever, by far, at 40,057 words.

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

Anything besides the big projects I'm working on is pretty much unexpected. The Tony and Tali fic was a pleasant surprise, as I'd been wanting to write something inspired by that song for literal years, and the answer just suddenly came to me. Also wasn't planning to jump into writing X-Files fic quite yet, so each of those was written in a sudden bout of inspiration.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn't

Oof. So many. I don't even want to think about the number of small (and not so small) snippets I have written both on my computer and on my notes app 😅

I've got one that honestly doesn't need much work to make it a publishable that I completely forgot about until just now. It's where Tony stays in Israel longer than in canon and is there when Ziva finds out she's pregnant. A tried and true trope, but I love every single one of those fics and would love to write one of my own someday.

For X-Files, there's this joke that Mulder and Scully have been sharing the same pair of glasses the whole time (because the actors often were on the show), and I was planning to write something about how that got started and progressed throughout the series.

[ttte-in-the-sky-au]

Go Out There And Change The World

"Go out there and change the world." He said it so often and now all that's left is a box and all the memories. Gordon could still hear Arrow's tired, raspy voice as he looked at the tiny snippet of what was once probably a school exercise book, rushed handwriting and all.

Arrow was one of Gordon's biggest supporters, besides Polly and North. Gordon could still remember that signature shaky but genuine smile that would cross Arrow's face as the young Gordon babbled to him about his day. He could still recall the shaking hand that signed his first football jersey, which was neatly folded and put in the cardboard box he rediscovered not too long ago. Under the old, worn out jersey that was in surprisingly good condition was a photograph. It was of a young adult Arrow and a pre-teen Gordon, having their first adventures in the kitchen. Tears began rolling down Gordon's cheeks as he was reminded of all the hours he'd spent with his oldest brother. "I could've- no, I should've spent so much more time with him." he thought to himself as he set the fragile photo down on the floor and focused on the box once again. Another picture, this time of Arrow and North.

The two were practically inseparable, apart for not more than 5 minutes at a time. On the back of the photo was text written in the same rushed handwriting that the little snippet had that read "Even if I can't change the world, I'll be here for you while you try."

Arrow wasn't the strongest physically, but nothing could break his spirit. He could be on his death bed and he'd still encourage you to stay positive and do something good for the world, or at least your own. He knew he didn't have as much time as his siblings, but he made the best of it.

He was there for North when he and Mallard grew distant, watched as the latter took off, helped Mary with her dreams of becoming a historian, encouraged Windsor to follow his hairdresser dreams, walked Polly to her music classes every day and of course.. he watched as Gordon and Scott grew up to be the siblings they are today. Arrow unfortunately didn't get to really see Bonny grow up, but his influence on his other siblings definitely left its mark on the little girl. He got to meet her once before he passed, and he made sure to tell her what he told their other siblings: "Go out there and change the world."

Gordon looked through all the photographs of his siblings, not even thinking about stopping the tears from falling down his face.

After he put down the photos, he picked up an old, worn out, faded picture book. It was Arrow's favourite to read to his siblings at bedtime, the pages completely faded to white where he flipped them. He could hear his brother's voice as he read the simple story. By now, there was only one thing left in the box: a white teddy bear, holding a blue heart. There was a tag attached to the toy's ear, reading "For my Shooting Star. Go out there and change the world." still in the same rushed handwriting, though even messier than the other handwritten notes. It was probably one of the last things Arrow wrote by hand before he passed on.