#why is writing this fic and buck being like this the most fun i've had lately haha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justaswampdemon · 2 years

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Etched in Skin Like Stone

This is maybe one of my favorite fics I've ever finished...blame my love of tattoos and my need for these idiots to figure their shit out.

Written for the fantastic @djdangerlove who had the galaxy brain idea of Buck getting "you're gonna be ok, kid." tattooed. It has lived in my brain rent free ever since.(This took so long to finish...my bad lol)

Also shout out to @marjansmarwani for telling me to stop staring at it, appreciate you babes!

Read it on AO3.

It starts with Christopher, as all good things should. Buck’s at the Diaz house with Christopher one night while Eddie’s out with Ana. As whatever movie played Chris had started to doze a little, snuggling into Buck. He’d draped an arm over his middle and pulled him close with a kiss to the top of his head. Nothing settled Buck like being at their house, feeling like he was finally a part of something so special. There was a nagging voice in his head though, telling him this wasn’t forever. Eddie had Ana now, and nights where the three of them would curl up on the couch with pizza and movies were most likely going to dwindle.

The doubt working through him was interrupted as Chris traced over the two black bands on his arms. “Hey Buck?”

“Yeah buddy?” Buck tilted his head, watching small hands lift his arm to look at the ink closer.

“Why do people get tattoos?”

“Well,” Buck thought about it for a second, trying to figure out the best way to explain it to a 10 year old. “Sometimes for fun, they like the design and just feel like it. Sometimes to remind them of something important.”

Poking the two bands, Christopher looked up at him. “Are these important?”

“They are, I had two good friends who passed away.” Buck thinks of Andy and Chris, two of the best friends he’d had while he was traveling across the states. They’d been hit by a drunk driver, looking back and knowing what he knows now, there was nothing anyone could have done to save them. “I got these so they’d always be with me.”

“So…you get them for people who aren’t here anymore?”

“Not always, the squiggly one right here-” Buck points to his shoulder where the tattoo is hidden under his shirt, “I got for Maddie. That’s how she writes ‘and’ so I got it when I hadn’t seen her for a while. I knew we’d see each other again so I got it to remind me our story wasn’t over.”

“Cause you knew she’d come back?”

Buck didn’t actually, when he was 24 and still felt abandoned by Maddie. He’d gotten it anyway, wanting to hold on to the hope that he’d see her again. The hope had been rewarded and he smiles, thinking of his sister and soon to be born niece. “Exactly. I knew she’d come back, but I missed her. So until she did...I would see it and know that no matter what I had her.”

They lapse into quiet and Buck keeps half his attention on Chris, can tell he’s working through something in his head. The conversation they had when Christopher ran away comes to mind, and he remembers how distraught he’d been, standing at Buck’s door with teary eyes. Buck still hasn’t figured out how to untangle all the emotions in his chest that Christopher chose him to run to.

“Hey Buck?” Christopher asks again, looking up to catch Buck’s eyes. “Do you miss me when I’m not around?”

“Sure I do, but any time I get sad or I miss you I always remember what you told me on the pier and it..it makes me brave.” It’s rare they really talk about that day, except little bits when Chris has a nightmare or when someone else brings it up. It’s even rarer that they talk about the carnival before the wave hit. Everything, even the good memories of rides and games is colored by the terror of the water rushing over them. The only thing that stands out, untainted by dirt and debris and blood, is Christopher looking at him and-

“You’re gonna be ok, kid.” He finishes Buck’s thought and Buck instantly gives him a squeeze. Suddenly Chris sits up and grabs a piece of paper and marker from where he’d been drawing earlier. Buck watches as he puts all his concentration into whatever he’s writing. Finally he turns and hands Buck the paper with a big grin. “Here! Now you can take it with you.”

“Thank you Christopher.” Holding the words in his hands makes Buck’s chest go tight again. It also puts an idea in his head. “Well you gotta help me figure out where to get it.”

Behind his glasses, Christopher’s eyes go wide and his smile gets even bigger. “Let's see…” He gets on the couch and looks at Buck thoughtfully, pressing back into the same spot against Buck’s left side before inspecting both his arms with a shake of his head. Then he wraps his arms around Buck and squeezes for a moment against his ribs. “Here.” He says definitively. “This way when I hug you I can charge it up.”

Buck immediately wraps Christopher up in a bear hug. “Perfect,” he presses a kiss to the top of his head. They stay curled up as the movie finishes, both dozing a little as the credits roll. “Alright kiddo, how do we feel about pjs, teeth brushing, and bed? Pretty sure your dad will kick my butt if you’re still up when he gets home.”

“Only ‘cause it’s a school night.” Chris reasons, and Buck laughs.

They go through Christopher’s nightly routine, and once he’s settled in bed, Buck sits on the edge next to him. “Is tonight a story night?” Christopher’s eyes are already drooping but he nods all the same. “You got it, have I told you about when I worked on a ranch in Alaska?”

“I wanna go to Alaska, I wanna see a moose.”

With a smile, Buck tells him all about moose, and the baby bears he saw, and how it seems like the wilderness goes on forever. He sprinkles in random facts he knows until Chris’ eyes have closed. Kissing his forehead, Buck whispers a quiet “goodnight buddy.”

“G’night Buck. Love you.”

“Love you too kiddo.” Buck closes his door most of the way, heading back into the living room to clean up. He spots the piece of paper on the coffee table and gently folds it, tucking it in his back pocket.

By the time Eddie gets home, Buck’s got the house cleaned up and is half watching tv half scrolling through instagram. He’d already messaged his friend Mel, setting up an appointment for his next day off and getting a very pointed ‘oh we need to Talk don’t we?’

“Hey Buck.” Eddie drops his keys in the bowl and immediately flops on the couch next to him, “you guys have a good night?”

Buck says nothing of the tattoo conversation, though he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s that nagging voice in his head, telling him this is all just temporary, Eddie won’t need him much longer. When he’s missing them both he’ll have a physical reminder that there’s a kid out there who loved him, and who would want him to keep going.

The tattoo stings, each pass of the gun feeling more like it’s just scraping off his outer shell. It makes sense, peel back all the outer things that make Buck ‘Buck’ and all that’s left is Eddie and Christopher and a need so desperate it overwhelms any pain.

“So, you gonna tell me the whole story about why this was so urgent?” His artist, Mel, asks after she’s finished the first pass over the letters. Carefully she inspects her work, small hand stretching and moving the skin over his ribs to check everything.

Buck presses his lips together, half in discomfort and half because if he opens his mouth he knows it’ll all rush out. Mel shoots him a sympathetic look, and he sighs, “Chris is Eddie’s son.”

That gets an eyebrow raise, “Eddie as in the man you’ve been pining over for two damn years?”

“I haven’t been pining that whole time…” because it’s useless to lie to Mel, not to mention a little terrifying. She’s a barely five foot tall queer pistol wrapped in floral dresses and tattoos and it’s not even a question that she could kick his ass. Since first meeting her when he came to LA, he’s gotten one tattoo and they’ve had a monthly platonic date night ever since, she’s been a confidant and voice of reason.

Mel also has an impeccable bullshit meter, which means she sees right through him. “Ok so you’ve been pining for one year and what? One year, eleven months and two weeks?” She arches a brow as Buck sputters.

“He’s dating someone…I was watching Chris when we came up with the idea so they could go to dinner.”

“Ohhhh…” She sets the tattoo gun back down to level him with an extremely unimpressed look. “Buck…you big, beautiful, dumb motherfucker.”

“You have a terrible bedside manner.” Buck laughs.

“We’re taking a break…I need a cigarette for this conversation.” Wiping down the blood that’s welled up as they talked, Mel puts a piece of Saran Wrap over the ink and he follows her outside. “Alright spill it Buck.”

“Remember when Eddie got stuck down the well?” It’s a relief to finally spill everything, especially to someone who was so disconnected from it all. Mel nods as she lights her cigarette, “he changed his will. If he…” After the sniper Buck still hasn’t been able to get the whole sentence out. “If he ever didn’t make it home…I become Christopher’s guardian.”

“As in…”

“As in my best friend…who I’ve been pining over for two years, got shot in front of me and is currently dating a very nice lady, told me he made me his son’s guardian a year ago.”

Mel coughs out her smoke, when she finally catches her breath she looks at him in disbelief. “You didn’t know?”

Throwing his hands up, Buck can’t help the vindication he feels as Mel’s eyebrows climb further up her head. “No. Fucking. Clue.”

“And he told you…”

“In the hospital as we were waiting for his discharge papers.”

“Wow.” She takes a drag, processes, and then another “wow…Was he dating this nice lady when the well happened?”

“No…but he is now…and he was when he got shot.” The words come tumbling out, “and ever since? Things have been weird between us. I keep trying to just go back to how things were before he got shot, but it just feels strained. Maybe I’m supposed to back off…He did kind of put it in legal writing that the only way I’d be Christopher’s dad is if Eddie…”

Stubbing out her cigarette, Mel turns to him sharply, “that’s what you got from that?”

“Uh…” He’s not sure what else could be read from waiting to tell him.

“Buck…he just told you that no matter who he’s dating, you’re the person he trusts with his heart. He was a little fucked up about it,” she adds, “but that’s an expectation that you’re gonna be around for the long haul.”

“I’m sure he’ll change it when he finds someone, I’m just the best option for now.” Because Buck was always the consolation prize, from the moment he was planned as nothing more than a donor.

The pain must show on his face, or maybe in his voice, because Mel wraps her arms around his waist. Careful of her fresh work, she squeezes him tight. “Hey, you are one of my favorite people ever. And I don’t think I’m the only one. Everything you’ve told me about that man says that he loves you, maybe he just needs some time and a good kick in the ass to figure it out.” They head back inside, and as Mel gets ready for another pass over the words, she gives him the kind of look that means she’s grinning under her mask. “Maybe you should bring him in for a tattoo?”

“Mel I love you, but please don’t terrorize my best friend.”

“Really gotta spoil my fun, dontcha?” She gets back to work and Buck has to focus more on keeping his breath steady. The burn of the second pass is sharp, he’s pretty sure he can feel each carefully written letter get etched into his skin.

They finish not long after, and as he looks at the words in the mirror his throat burns. The tattoo will probably be healed by the time he sees Christopher next, between school and Ana, most of the time Buck has to be content with facetimes and texts. As Mel smoothes the saniderm over, he texts Eddie about a zoo trip soon, which gets a response that it’d be nice to have a day with Ana, so Buck can take Chris on one of their weekends off. He shows it to her with a bitter “see what I mean?”

She sighs and maneuvers Buck’s arm so she can tuck herself against his not sensitive side, “yeah…I’m sorry babes.” They walk out together, and Mel stays by his side as he pays. Before he leaves, she hugs him again, “love you, text me if you need to talk.”

As he steps out into the sunlight, the ache in his ribs has nothing to do with the tattoo. He misses Eddie like crazy, but maybe he’ll just have to accept his new role of babysitter and work friend. It’s fine, that’s what Buck keeps telling himself. Sitting in his car, Buck presses his hand against the hot skin on his ribs. Deep breath in, “it’s gonna be ok, kid.” Deep breath out as he turns the ignition and pretends he wants to go home.

“Woah! Buck, is that new ink?” Chimney asks, walking over to where Buck is working through a rep of pullups.

“Uh…Yeah.” Dropping down, Buck rubs the back of his neck. It’s not that he was hiding it…but he hadn’t shown it off like he normally did. “I got it a month or so ago.”

Eddie sets his weights down, too distracted by this new information. With how often he saw Buck, at work and countless times before or after shifts and on days off, the fact that he’d hidden the new tattoo was odd. Buck barely went a day without sharing everything from the tv show he was binging or the wikipedia hole he’d stumbled down. The man was the most closed off open book Eddie had ever met.

Joining the other two Eddie gets a glimpse of the new tattoo, inked against the curve of Buck’s ribs. “Is that Christopher’s handwriting?”

Chimney goes suspiciously quiet as Buck flushes, trying not to meet Eddie’s eyes as he nods. “He uh...he wrote it out for me.”

Moving into Buck’s space, Eddie tugs at his shirt to get a closer look. You’re gonna be ok, kid. Without thinking, he reaches out and touches the ink, feeling the raised skin and the bumps of Buck’s ribs. The muscle under his fingers twitches and absently he thinks maybe he should pull his hand away, but his son’s handwriting has been permanently etched into Buck’s skin, and the gravity of it throws him more than it probably should.

He wants to ask about it, he wants to know everything about where the words came from, why it’s on his ribs, why Buck never mentioned it, but instead his mouth just opens and shuts a few times. There’s a thundering in his chest, but it feels exciting, nothing like the odd hum under his skin he’s been noticing lately. He’s not even sure how to begin to process this, and Buck’s looking at him nervously, and all he can do is gape at how completely Buck loves his son…loves the family they’ve built. The past few months he’s been trying to force a ready made family when he had everything he’d wanted curled up on the couch with his son back home.

A cough from next to them reminds him Chimney is still standing right there, watching Eddie’s mild crisis as his fingers continue to brush over the words. He swallows, and he knows his voice comes out a bit too strained when he finally finds it. “Looks good…”

The bell sounds and Eddie snatches his hand back like Buck’s skin is the fire they’re being called to. Buck turns to follow Chimney, shooting Eddie a confused, worried look that Eddie hates more than his own apparent obliviousness.

The last few hours of their shift is non stop, and Eddie barely has a spare moment to even reach out to Buck. It doesn’t help that Buck does what he can to distance himself, sticking close to Bobby in a way that has their Captain shooting both of them concerned looks. Buck’s absence has Eddie cold and untethered, and it brings the realization from before that much more glaring. In between calls he does his best to start setting things right, texting the various pieces of the puzzle until he’s in the locker room and there’s a pit in his stomach as he realizes Buck didn’t even pause to change. Every atom in his being wants to run after him, but there are steps between here and being able to pull Buck into his arms and offer to never let go.

All in all it’s a few hours until he’s taking a deep breath and knocking on Buck’s door. It’s an agonizing minute or two before Buck opens the door, staring at Eddie in confusion. “Hey, what are you—”

“You got Christopher’s handwriting tattooed on you…” Eddie interrupts, stepping into Buck’s loft and moving to sit at the counter.

Buck ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he shuts the door and joins him. “Yeah...I guess that is kinda weird...it’s just-”

“It’s not weird at all.” Eddie interrupts, and Buck’s eyes shoot to his. “I was surprised…but more because I didn’t know and it is kind of the least surprising thing in the world.”

Buck nods, looking a little shell shocked. There’s a certain kind of bitterness when Eddie thinks about all the times Buck was convinced he’d never be wanted that runs alongside the same bitterness that so many people had convinced Eddie he could never have this. “Um…Ok…” Buck busies himself making coffee, and as the pot starts to brew he glances over. “Everything ok?”

“I broke up with Ana.”

There’s a stall in Buck’s nervous energy and he turns his worried brow on Eddie. “Because of my tattoo?” Of course he thinks it’s his fault, as if a few curves of ink were responsible for anything besides getting Eddie to wake the hell up.

“All this time, I’ve been ignoring what I wanted, what was right in front of me, because I thought being a family meant something specific. Since the moment Shanon left, I’ve had so many people telling me he needs his mom, and then after she died, he needs a mom.” He takes in the expression on Buck’s face, the strange mix of devastation and what Buck thinks is understanding about what Eddie’s trying to say. “I was so focused on what everyone else was telling me, you know? ‘Find someone Christopher loves,’ turned into ‘that boy deserves a mom, you should find a nice girl to settle down with’. All the bullshit I told myself I’d stop listening to.

“And I realized...he has someone he loves. Someone who loves him as much as I do, who makes him feel safe and cared for and protected.” Taking a breath, he reaches out and finally lets himself feel the buzz of want when he rests his hand on Buck’s. “Someone who will fight for him as hard as I will.”

“Eddie…” Buck’s voice is barely about a whisper, but Eddie thinks he’d hear it as loud as the bell going off at the station.

Devastation morphs into cautious hope, and Eddie prays he’s reading things right as he squeezes Buck’s hand. “Buck you’re not just Christopher’s guardian should the worst happen. You’re his dad now, and I couldn’t ask for a better co parent and partner.”

The hand under his turns over, letting Eddie twine their fingers together. “I…Are you…” Buck stumbles over his words, seemingly unable to get a full thought out, but his eyes are full of a longing that Eddie hadn’t let himself see before.

Leaning close, Eddie pauses a second, giving Buck a chance to move away just in case. He doesn’t, and Eddie brushes their lips together in a tentative kiss. The buzz under his skin turns into a comforting warmth when Buck kisses back, gentle and equally soft. They pull apart for breath, but he doesn’t let Buck go far, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you, I think I’ve loved you for a long time. Sorry it took so long to get it through my head.”

Buck laughs, a happy puff of air against his lips, “I love you too Eddie, always have.” He cups Eddie’s cheek with his other hand and kisses him, a firm but brief press of lips that has Eddie’s heart soaring. When they separate again, Buck has the happiest smile Eddie’s seen, possibly ever. “Told you the universe was screaming at you.” Buck teases, gently rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie leans into his hand. “The universe does not scream Buck.” Pushing to his feet, Eddie kisses him to stop whatever ranting explanation he’s sure is coming. He wants to hear it, loves listening to Buck’s excited ramblings…and yeah maybe he should have realized he was ass over tea kettle for the man in front of him a little earlier. Buck grins, draping his arms over Eddie’s shoulders. It feels like muscle memory to fit his hands around Buck’s ribs and Eddie hasn’t felt so at ease touching someone since Shannon. Underneath Buck’s sweatshirt is their son’s handwriting and he presses his hand against it a little firmer. “You’re gonna be ok kid?”

“Chris said it to me on the pier. We were on a bench talking about what he wants to be when he grows up…right before…” Buck tenses and trails off, but Eddie knows how the sentence ends. Before the wave hit, before the sea almost ripped the two most important people away from him while he’d been none the wiser. “One of the nights I watched him while you were out, he asked why people get tattoos. I told him sometimes for fun, and sometimes for people you miss. He asked me if I missed him.” I miss you all the time, Eddie remembers Christopher saying, way back when it was just the two of them and Eddie’s desperate need to run as far from Texas as he could. “I said of course I do, but then I remember him telling me it’s gonna be ok and it makes me brave. So he wrote it out and helped me decide where to put it.”

“On your ribs?”

“Uh…that way when he hugs me he can charge it up, according to him.”

The pink of Buck’s cheeks is beautiful and Eddie tugs him close, taking a moment to revel in how perfectly they fit together. “You’re a really good dad, did you know that?”

Buck cradles his face in his hands, and Eddie quickly becomes addicted to the feel of work rough skin against his. This time their kiss is syrup slow and sweet, but the words spoken against his lips are what gets Eddie to melt. “I learned from you, Eds.” Some of his doubt must show, because Buck kisses his forehead and pulls back just enough to meet his eyes. “Hey, I’ve seen some shitty dads…hell I have a shitty dad. Christopher is the luckiest kid in the world to have you.”

Pulling him back into a hug, Eddie wraps the words around his heart as he tucks his face against Buck’s neck. “He’s got both of us now.”

~~~~

Later that night, after they send Carla and her knowing grin on her way with multiple thank you’s, and after multiple bedtime stories to get Chris to settle because he was “too excited for dumb things like bedtime”, Buck snaps a photo to send Mel.

He’s been meaning to show her how the tattoo healed, but now the picture has two purposes. Just below the ink is Eddie’s hand, thumb brushing over the words as he dozes against Buck’s shoulder. With the photo he adds the caption ‘healed up great!’ before he puts his phone on the nightstand. He’ll wake up to no small amount of yelling in his texts, his phone has already buzzed twice, but right now he pulls Eddie that much closer and for once has no trouble falling asleep.

#swamp demon writes #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #911 fox

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hmslusitania · 3 years

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Honestly I've lost hope and it really hurts at this point. When I just watch the Buddie scenes in 4x13/14 it's all good but then I remember that they gave Buck and Taylor a solid foundation and they showed Chris clearly liking Ana and the three of them acting like a family so I feel like Buddie is done for at this point. I know I never should've gotten my hopes up, I know I'm a stupid idiot, and yet here I am crying over a fictional ship yet again

Hey Anon. I'm sorry you're in pain, that's a bad place to be.

Many, many people in this fandom are much better at meta analysis on these fronts than I am (I would even hazard to say most people, tbh) and they have written extensively on the relationships the boys are in right now and their future trajectories. I can't personally see either as having potential for an endgame setting, but we all see different things when we watch the exact same shows so your mileage may vary.

As far as hope and Buddie being canon, this is gonna get a little autobiographical here because as I said, I am not great at meta, so just like. bear with me.

I've been involved in fandom stuff (mostly fic writing; didn't start actually talking to people about fandom stuff until ff.net implemented their messaging system whenever that was) for fifteen years now. I don't think I count as a fandom old, but maybe comfortably middle aged. I have been involved in a lot of fandoms, and have been a fan of even more things that I never quite ventured into fandom spaces for. I initially joined tumblr for Supernatural, ffs, like. I have Seen Things, Anon, and a lot of them were ugly, and a lot of them were cruel to the fans on purpose, especially us queers here, and I have been sucked into fandoms specifically because of Tumblr's exceptional skill at finding all the little moments and giffing them and sharing these beautifully charged acting moments. I started watching Teen Wolf back in the day because of Tumblr telling me about Sterek and we all know how that worked out. And when I went from tumblr's eloquent and lovely gifsets that pulled out all the little pieces and complied a compelling narrative to actually watching the show? You know, it fell flat. It was definitely all there but it didn't have nearly the same prominence that I had been lead to believe by the talented and dedicated people here in this blue garbage can.

And so when a few people I'd been following for years started posting these gifs about 9-1-1 and about Buddie, I was like "oh, it's gonna be Teen Wolf all over again" but I needed to know the context of the grocery store fight and I needed to understand why a lawsuit would prevent Buck from talking to Eddie and Eddie's son (were they getting divorced? Who was suing who?) and so I read all the episode summaries that existed to that point (up to What's Your Grievance) and then I read a metric fuck tonne of fic, and then I finally caved and watched the entire show. I absolutely expected all the Buddie moments I'd seen giffed and referenced in fic to be small, throwaway things that didn't really stick with the plot or were played as a joke.

As a few of my friends can attest, I proceeded to send them about eighty billion texts of "HOLY SHIT ALL OF IT IS CANON WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING" and dragged one of them in all the way (sorry @starry-eyed-guttersnipe) and one by proxy (@rhysiana thanks for still talking to me anyway).

I am not, by nature, a hopeful person. I am primarily obstinate and spiteful, but like, I'm chipper about it? So do I recommend having hope about Buddie being canon? Meh. But I have never seen a set up like this in any of the seventeen hundred television shows I've watched in my life. And I will be shipping it until the show ends, and probably a little longer. If you can find it in yourself to hoist a hefty goblet of "fuck you" at whatever current nonsense canon's giving us, the still-shipping-despite club is a fun and comfortable place 💖

#I don't know if this helps #probably not #but it's what I've got #the ghost ship answers questions #sorry if this shows up somehow in anyone else's shipping tags I tried to avoid using words

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lilred8220 · 3 years

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Well, yet another fic no one asked for😃

I wanted to write this because some time go, I was watching the fireworks when this song started to play↓↓↓

And I just thought how romantic it would be if I wasn't forever alone 🙃 so, I build a story around that. I hope you enjoy it!

P.s. This is a F!MC

I had been so excited for this day! In the human realm, my hometown this time of year had a huge festival ending with a huge firework show. I had asked to go a week in advance but due to being in the Devildom for the exchange program, I couldn't go. It definitely was a disappointment. However Diavolo, seeing me upset and now curious about the tradition, asked all about it and he thought it sounded fun. Thanks to him always wanting to do anything new, he immediately decided to do the same here in the Devildom.

So through the long week, he asked about everything we would do at the event to make it much more fun and quickly get everything ready to make this last second festival. It somehow all came together and it feels almost exactly like the festival from the human realm. The food, sweets and all! Now it was the time to enjoy the festival!

The brothers couldn't understand why I was so excited for this. Though we all went to festivals and saw fireworks, It was just something that I would always look forward to this time of the year and it's just more special this time around. It kinda feels as if I'm sharing something that I love with everyone I care about in a place where I like to call my new home. Hopefully they'll come to enjoy this as much as I do.

"So, this is called an Elephant ear?“ Beel asked, drooling at the large fried sweet in front of him.

I laugh, as I grab a piece before he can scarf the treat whole, "Yeah, it's just fried dough with powdered sugar on it. They usually sell these at any carnival or festival." I pop the elephant ear in my mouth, savoring the amazing taste.

The brothers each had something to eat as we took a break from all the festival games littered around. We all take two picnic benches for the 8 of us, well, us and Beel's giant pile of food he got. Everyone had won something from the games…well everyone but me and Mammon. Mammon was determined to win a game, yet his luck seemed to be the worse for wear today and all the games we'd gone to all ended up with one of the other brothers winning the game. My luck honestly wasn't any better due to playing the same games that the others had won.

"I'm telling ya! Those games are rigged! The people runnin 'em are just a bunch of con artists!“ Mammon yells, clearly frustrated that he hasn't gotten anything.

"Or maybe you just suck lol" Levi says, holding a Ruri-chan plush to his chest.

"Honestly, you really shouldn't be surprised, you were pretty terrible at all those games since you had no choice but to play fair." Satan adds on, which all the brothers nod in agreement.

Asmo laughs, "Well, what do you expect from a scumbag?"

I start to get annoyed as the brothers all start to bash on Mammon. He seems fine on the surface but I've been around him long enough, with him basically living in my room and all, to see all his little ticks. Like when he's excited, his hand gestures are more dramatic, to emphasize his point or how his eyes light up when something catches his attention, like something to make a quick buck. However, right now, with the way his mouth slightly twitches and his hand shoved into his pockets, he's upset. He really only does this when the brothers throw insult after insult at him, like right now.

I sigh as they continue their assault on him. But an idea comes to mind and it'll be easy enough to pull off.

"Does...that all that stuff apply to me too? Since I didn't win anything either, after all..." I say, putting on my best pouting face and looking down at the ground.

Immediately, the brothers started to panic, trying to reassure me that it wasn't true, successfully drawing their attention away from Mammon. I slightly looked up, passed the frantic brothers to lock eyes with Mammon. He stood there for a moment, a bit confused by my sudden comment. I flash him a quick smirk before looking up at the brothers, accepting their apologies. The brothers seemed to relax and drop the topic after that, returning to the food they have. Mammon, who had seemingly understood what my intentions really were, looked at me, with his face slightly flushed, then stared down at his food.

In Mammon's mind, he honestly doesn't know what force sent Y/N here but, she is honestly the best thing that has ever happened to him. At first, he hated the idea of being her guardian due to all of the extra work he was given. But, as days turned to weeks, her treatment towards him was nothing but sweet and loving. It honestly was a huge adjustment for him, since everyone treated him like scum or useless, having her place so much faith in him, even defending him and doing little gestures like this, it makes his head spin. He honestly couldn't pinpoint when it happened, but, his feelings for her drastically changed, he couldn't deny it now, how he longed for her, wanted her all to himself. How he loved her unconditionally.

I smile, quickly finish eating my food then stand up, "Ok! Time to get back to the games!“ I say, excitedly.

"Y/N, I'm glad you are excited but some of us still need to eat." Lucifer says, glancing at Beel and his mountain of food.

"Awww, come on Lucifer, I wanna try to win something before the fireworks start." I plop down again, putting my chin in my hands.

"Well, I'm sure we'll have plenty of time." Lucifer tries to cheer me up, eating some fries.

Mammon looks up at Y/N, upon seeing her upset. He honestly hated seeing Y/N upset, even if for something so small as to wait for everyone to finish eating. He wanted nothing more than to see her smile everyday, it honestly was one of his favorite parts of the day to see her smile so sweetly. He'll do anything to make her happy. He sits up and scarfs down his food before standing up. "Ok, how 'bout this,' ' Mammon gets up and walks over to me, ' ' since I haven't won anythin', I'm gonna go play some more games and I'll meet ya guys later. Y/N, ya can come if ya want to." Mammon starts to walk away, at a slower pace than he usually would.

"Yeah! Ok!" Before any of the other brothers could protest, I quickly got up and hurried over to Mammon. I can hear the brothers stumbling to get up to follow us.

"Hey! Mammon is stealing Y/N!"

"That's not fair!“

"That scumbag..."

I hear some of the things they're saying as they seem to be trying to catch up.

I grab Mammon's hand and start to make a run for it. "Come on!" I glanced back at Mammon, who seemed shocked. He looks back to see the brothers in hot pursuit of us. Getting the hint, Mammon picks up the pace. We high tail it out of there, laughing like a bunch of kids all the while.

Me and Mammon finally stop and I flop on the floor, trying to catch my breath as Mammon puts his hands on his knees.

"I…I think we lost 'em" Mammon pants, out of breath from running around.

"I…I think so…jeez, how…how do you always do this when you get in trouble?“ I wheeze out, my human body not used to running as much as a demon. Especially if that demon is Mammon.

Mammon straightens up, finally catching his breath, "Well, I'm not usually running from ALL of my brothers, just Lucifer mostly."

Mammon reaches his hand to me and after a moment, I let him help me up. He helps me to my feet and when I look up, his face is very close to mine. We stare at each other for a moment before both of our faces turn more flushed than we already were.

His bright blue eyes that have a hint of that golden yellow has me in a trance. When I first met Mammon, it was the first thing that drew my attention, it's honestly something that I always find myself staring at all of the time. They are very beautiful to me and never fail to make me feel relaxed when I see them. But not only that, he is a very handsome man. His rich caramel skin with his pure white hair makes his face stand out even more. He is just so captivating to look at, however his personality is what truly makes him shine. Even if he tries, and fails, to hide his true feelings, he always has his heart on his sleeve, rather if he realizes that or not. He tries so hard to help me or to even make my day brighter when I'm not feeling my best. He even tries to protect his brothers and is always there for them. He honestly is the most caring person I've ever met and I can't help but fall for him because of that.

Mammon looked down at her face, he honestly couldn't help but stare. In his mind, she was more beautiful than anyone he's ever seen. Her beauty not only stopped at her looks but the person she was. She was a true wonder to him, too good to be true yet, here she was, defying all logic. All he wanted to do was look at every detail of her face, her eyes as they shine, her soft skin as the blush covers her face, her parted lips as her breath finally slows down. Mammon was the first to turn away, catching himself now staring at nothing but her lips.

He clears his throat. "W-Well since we're here, let's get to some games!" Mammon says, his fangs flash with his grin.

We made our way to the nearest game booth, both of us looking at the various prizes. The booth in question is a simple ring toss, the bottles are organized by colors which show what size prize you can get. There are the ridiculously large stuffed bears that are taller than me to the very small animal plushies. Scanning all the prizes, one catches my attention, a black plush crow with a yellow tag on it. It was big enough to hold in your arms, it's wings dangled at its sides. It had its beak opened slightly to look like a smile. I glance over at Mammon, who is currently eyeing a plushie of a grimm, that also has a yellow tag hanging off of it. I laugh, thinking of how that plush crow reminded me of him.

Mammon looks at me, slightly confused, "What are ya laughing at?"

"Oh nothing, though I know what prize I want." I smile, looking back at the crow plush.

Mammon follows my eyes over to the plush, he tilts his head at my choice, "Ya sure that's what ya want? There are plenty of things better than that ol' crow."

I nod enthusiastically, "Yeah, I think it's cute, like someone else I know." I playfully push him.

His ears turn a dark red but he laughs, "Well, I know what I want so, let's go and win some prizes!“

We pay the demon running the game and start trying to make the rings reach its mark. However, as in most carnaval games, the rings in question are only slightly bigger than the top of the bottles, making it much harder to win. Not to mention the bottles for the better prizes are further back, making it much harder. As we try a couple times, we don't get much luck and we're running out of grimms to play. However as we reach our last game, even though I end up with nothing, Mammon manages to sink a ring on a yellow bottle.

"We have a winner!“ the demon behind the booth says, walking over to grab the ring.

"Yeah! This was nothin' for the Great Mammon!" Mammon threw his hands in the air, and I cheered with him, "You did it! You won!“

The demon walks back over to us, "Alrighty, you can pick a prize with a yellow tag. Which will it be?"

Mammon's eyes flick to the plush he was eyeing earlier and he goes to speak, but an announcement rings through the speakers all around the festival, "The firework show will be starting in 15 minutes, marking the end of the festival! So hurry and grab a seat to enjoy the show!“ a cheery voice says before the music from before starts to play again. Mammon looks down at me for a moment before a small smile appears on his face.

Mammon looks at the demon and points at the plush crow, "I'll take that one."

I look up at Mammon, "But, I thought you wanted-“ I get cut off by the demon swift return, "Here you go." The demon hands him the crow plush.

Mammon takes the plush from the demon with his usual bright smile and starts walking off, I quickly follow, still confused. Once I catch up, he looks at me with a blush on his face and holds out the crow to me.

"W-well, there wasn't really anythin' I wanted, so I figured I'd get this ol' crow since ya seemed to want it so bad." He says with his usual bravado, yet it was a bit more shy than normal.

"But, you said…" I start to say as I take the plush but, cut my thought short.

Even though I know he wanted something, that much he's been saying all day, he still got me this crow plush. Knowing how he struggles to do these things and becoming a stuttering mess when it's pointed out, I choose to not question him. Yet, I can't help but love him even more, him knowing that I wanted something as well and that he'll be going back home later with nothing. I'll have to repay him later but for now, I'll just enjoy the rest of the festival with him.

I shake my head and give him a smile, one that shows how much I truly appreciate and love him, "Thank you so much, Mammon." I hold the crow close to myself.

Mammon feels all the air in his lungs escape him. Y/N's smile, the sparkle of joy and something more…intimate in her eyes. Honestly, for a split second, he found himself jealous of that crow, seeing Y/N holding it so lovingly. He wanted, no, needed to show her how much he loves her. If not tonight, it'll drive him insane.

After looking a bit, me and Mammon found a perfect spot to watch the fireworks. We sat on a hill that was a bit further away from the festival and luckily, we could still hear the music playing from one of the speakers nearby. We sat in a comfortable silence, waiting for the fireworks to begin. Which based on the amount of time it took to find this isolated spot, it should start at any moment.

Mammon is resting his arms on his knees as I sit with my legs crossed, the plush crow close to my chest. I watch all the demons in the distance hurrying to find a spot to watch the show as well. Thankfully, none of them seem to look in this direction. So right now, it's just us, alone.

After a few moments, Mammon looks over at me and shyly starts to speak, "H-hey, Y/N?"

I look back at Mammon, noticing his face slowly forming a blush, "Yes?"

"I…I wanted to tell ya-" Mammon gets cut off by the first firework going off.

We slightly jump, but my eyes widen as the firework show starts, "It's starting!"

I watch as the firework starts to make the usual dark Devildom sky shine bright with many different colors. All the while, a familiar song starts to play on the speakers, making this a moment that I want to treasure always. It was a song from the human realm and it was a song that made this moment feel more intimate. I honestly couldn't ask for a better day, I got to go to the festival with all my favorite people and I even had, dare I say it, a wonderful date with Mammon. The thought of going on a date with Mammon makes my cheeks burn but I truly wish that this day would never end.

Mammon's heart starts to pound in his chest, his gaze never leaving Y/N. He watches as her eyes glow with wonder, watching the fireworks as if it were the first time. She never looked more beautiful, more perfect than right now. If he was ever gonna make his move, it had to be now. Mammon opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't find it in himself to break her trance. However, his greed for her attention, her voice, her touch, for nothing but her, was growing. So, he closes his mouth and takes a deep breath. He leans closer to her as his shaky hand gently touches her cheek to turn her face towards him.

When I suddenly feel a light touch on my face, I snap back to reality. Before I can react, I feel my face being turned and suddenly, Mammon leans in, his eyes close and gently presses his lips on mine, like he's afraid that I'll break. My eyes widen, taking a moment to realize what is happening. Mammon, feeling me not move, starts to move away, most likely worried he did something wrong. But, not wanting to lose the moment, I quickly filled in the space he left, pressing my lips a bit harder than he did. Mammon tenses at my sudden movement but quickly melts into the kiss, holding my face with his hands. I place the plush to the side, momentarily forgotten, I place my hands on his chest for support.

The air stills, the world around us starts to disappear. The only thing to keep us from forgetting the world completely is the sound of fireworks and the song playing so sweetly.

I snake my arms around Mammon's neck, then he takes the chance to pull me in closer by my waist, closing the gap between us. Even though he was nervous at first, he seems to have relaxed, even nips at my bottom lip, causing me to gasp. He swiftly slips his tongue in my mouth, tangling it with mine, deepening the kiss. We held each other close, like we were afraid that the other would vanish.

Needing to breathe, we lean away slightly. I'm not sure when it happened, but I managed to end up on Mammon's lap. Mammon seems to also realize the position we're in and his breath hitches.

His hand comes up and holds my face, "I love ya, Y/N."

My heart flutters and I lean into his touch, "I love you too, Mammon. I…I always have."

"Y/N, I care about ya so much and I…I don't want anyone else trying to steal my most precious treasure from me. The thought of it kills me, because I'm yer first man." Mammon stops, becoming more shy, "I w-want ya to be mine and…I'll be yers…if ya want me."

I feel as though all of the butterflies in my stomach would explode out of me. I can't stop the big smile that appears on my face, "Mammon," I hold his face in my hands, "no one could ever take me away. And not only that but…" I bite my lip, feeling a bit bashful, "You already have me. Now and forever."

If Mammon could, his eyes would have hearts in them. He looked at me with such lovestruck eyes, his face is probably the most peaceful expression I've ever seen. I look back at him in awe, honestly have never seen him so happy, like he's on cloud nine.

A smile is plastered on his face, "I promise that I will be with ya till the end of time. I gotta be the luckiest demon in the whole festival, no, the Devildom. But, I guess I did win something at the festival after all." His smile suddenly turns into a smirk, "What do ya say we go somewhere more private and we can continue…this?"

My face turns red, but I nod. We stand up, I grab my plushie so that we can leave when I suddenly hear someone, or rather, some people, running this way.

"MAMMON!"

We spin around, both of us knowing too well who that voice belongs to. Lucifer and the rest of the brothers are running at full sprint in our direction.

"Oh shit!" Mammon yells out, quickly sweeping me off my feet, making a run for it.

Startled, I grabbed on to Mammon's jacket, making sure to not drop my crow plush, "Ah! M-Mammon!“

He looks down at me, " Well, I might get strung up later, but I'm yer man now. I want ya all to myself and I don't know about ya, but I'm not ready for tonight to end." He flashes his signature smile.

I can't help but laugh, as we make yet another escape from the brothers. This is truly the best day I could have asked for.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me mc #Spotify

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confetti-cupcake · 2 years

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4, 5, 13, 47 💕

Thanks so much for the ask Jenwyn! 💕💕💕

4) what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

If this is counting plots that I've started on, definitely my Survivor fic. Whenever I get into a new show or fandom, I always think of how the characters would do on Survivor. It's my favorite reality show of all time, and it's always been my dream to write a fic that's essentially a full season of the show in a narrative format. Growing up, I'd always draft out fictional seasons of Survivor with original characters and find like stock photos of people that looked like what I pictured the castaways to be like lol. At one point in high school, I even drafted out and wrote part of a season that involved characters from Nickelodeon shows. And the second I watched 9-1-1, I knew I needed to explore this with them, because I think a lot of the characters would actually be really good at it!

I'm going to amend your question a little to why I haven't finished it and experience deep existential dread — in short, the existential dread is completely tied to how best to execute it. So back when the pandemic started, I had a ton of time on my hands, and I wanted to make a real meal out of the story. I had what I felt was a great beginning, a fitting end, and had some really fun stuff in the middle linking it all together. Although I love Buddie with all my heart, I love all of the main characters on 9-1-1 and I wanted it to be a mini character study on everyone (including Lone Star people). I wanted at least one scene from each character's POV, I wanted to explore relationships between characters that don't interact in canon, I wanted to give every single person on the cast a meaningful and satisfying story arc, I wanted to tell the complete story of each vote out, and of course, I wanted there to be a Buddie love story. So I wrote like 120k words of it, and then set it aside for a while because I wasn't sure how much of a crossover there would realistically be between 9-1-1 fans and Survivor fans. Well, turns out, there is a decent amount! So I revisited it. And now... it all feels like a lot. Maybe I'm wrong, but I feel like a majority of people who go into the fic will only care about Buddie. Will they really care about a scene told from Michael's POV? Or from Michelle Blake's POV, for example? Will they really care about how Athena or Paul or TK play the game? I definitely care — but at the end of the day, I do want people to read this thing and not glaze over for 75% of the story 😂

So the dilemma I'm essentially facing now is which audience I should cater the story to — the 9-1-1/Survivor fans (who are fewer in number, but would probably be invested in the scenes of all the characters and the actual outcome of the game), or Buddie fans (who are higher in number, but may just want to cut to the chase of Buck and Eddie getting together)? The full story is definitely the one I'd prefer to write and would be most fulfilling for me personally, but it would also be loads more work, and for possibly a lot less "return on investment", so to speak. We'll see! It's something I ponder over every day, honestly. If anyone reading this has any strong opinions on the subject, please let me know!

5) have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

Answered here! Be forewarned, it's all Survivor soundtrack music and will not be everyone's cup of tea. That being said, I feel like the "emotional" songs are incredibly beautiful. They really set a tone, even outside the context of Survivor, and unironically bring a tear to my eye. I usually put them on when I'm trying to really dig deep and articulate very profoundly sad or hopeful emotions.

13) talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

When I was new to Tumblr, I had a lot of stuff written, but really wanted a second opinion on it. So I put out a call for beta readers that would be willing to help me. I expected zero response, and if by some miracle somebody did reach out, I wasn't sure of the quality person I would end up with, since I was essentially asking for the help of total strangers. I struck gold because not one, not two, but three amazing people reached out to me offering to help, and have been completely invaluable in giving me honest feedback on my writing. I really feel like the quality has grown a lot since I started working with them, and I always look forward to their comments when I send them a new chapter 😊

47) what story are you most proud of?

Right now, I am most proud of my Are You The One? AU. I feel like all nine matches are pretty well thought out, and I've had so much fun dropping in little subtle hints about who's paired with who. I really want to finish it soon, if for no other reason than I want to see people play along and try to solve the logic puzzle! I'm proud of the amount of planning and forethought that went into it to make the puzzle playable and the story (particularly the Buddie part) satisfying, and I really hope it all pays off!

Send me another ask from this list!

#ask box #elvensorceress #ask game #fanfic writer asks #buddie #buddie fic

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playedwright · 2 years

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👀🏅☀️❤️

MWAH ilu ty ty <3

👀 Do you have any words/phrases you use habitually oh god i'm sure i do BHSHFKHS hmm.. ive noticed in a lot of my stuff i tend to include something along the lines of "[great extraordinary thing] but none of it compares to [love interest]". also i really like sweetheart as a pet name so that makes its appearance fairly often. that's all i can think of off the top of my head buh

🏅 What is the fic you’re most proud of? answered here but since we r buddie mutuals i will include i was p proud of (like 85% of) flash like a setting sun<3

☀️ Has anyone ever left you a comment that made your day? What did it say? oh god so many!!! one person commented quoting a line back to me and said they wanted it in their vows, that was amazing. also any comment i get about characterization being spot on always makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, idk why that's something i fixate on but god it Thrills me every time. also one recently that i've come back to reread a few times said "at several points during this fic i was so reminded of my own past unrequited love that i had to pause so i could cry... which is all to say that op's depiction of love is so authentic and brutally honest and warm and beautiful. i want to live in this world you've created forever." and i have not stopped thinking about it since

❤️ Who is your favorite character to write for and why? OHOHO ok going by fandoms i've written for bc there is a Lot. for 911, buck hands down. my next buddie wip is eddie pov and i'm really enjoying writing from his perspective but i LOVE writing buck, i am inside that guy's head and i'm gonna make it everyone's problem. for spn, i think i'm best at writing dean but i love love love writing castiel, he's just. this huge cosmic entity who has seen more than we comprehend and i love referencing that and juxtaposing it with him ogling just some guy on earth. for it movies eddie was my favorite to write, he's my special little guy and getting to write him and give him stupid little antics was so fun. ok i'm gonna stop there tho bc this is already long enough xoxo <3 <3

fanfic ask game!

#oatflatwhite #answered #THANK U MWAH THIS WAS SO FUN

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likefacesaretohearts · 4 years

Text

Close in Quarantine

Category - friends to lovers trope

Warnings - smut, unprotected sex

Word count: 1486

Hi y'all! This is my first fic on this page so I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. I want this to be a place to have fun and where WOC can see themselves reflected in fics. Much love!

Chris was saying the usual goodbyes and thank yous that occur at the end of an interview. Because everything was being done over Zoom and the video lagged even with the best of WiFi, there was the awkward overlapping of him and the interviewer talking at the same time. Once he was in the clear and was sure the call was off, he let out a big sigh and closed his laptop.

"I swear they ask the same questions every press run I do,” he said.

You emerge from the kitchen with a cold beer in hand, finally able to go into the living room. Chris didn't want you wandering around in the background while he was on the Zoom call because he knew that if anyone caught a glimpse of you, social media and the gossip blogs would be alight with rumors of Chris Evans and His Mysterious New Flame. In reality, you weren't together. Neither of you were really sure what you were, but there was certainly an ember of attraction there that had been building since you started quarantining together.

“Why don't you let me ask you the questions then,” you tease as you plop down on the couch near him.

“I have to polish up my singing voice, maybe work on my choreography first, huh?” he said.

You were a music journalist, so you spent your work days talking to rockstars and the most polished pop stars about their lives and music then cranking out long form articles for their fans and haters alike to read. Chris came over and sat next to you on the couch with his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you. Being this close to him made you nervous but you didn't mind...it was a bit of a rush. He’d started singing a song purposefully off key, taking the beer from your hand and using it as a microphone.

“You are no Mariah Carey, sir,” you said, trying not to give him the satisfaction of cracking a smile..

He knocked back some sips of your beer and you try to grab it from him to no avail. He playfully moves the bottle around and holds it in the air, using his tall stature as an advantage.

“We’ve been quarantined together for three weeks, your germs are my germs at this point,” he said.

“Bull shit that is not how that works,” you said laughing.

You finally get a hold of his hand with the beer in it, but suddenly the vibe changes. Chris, with his scruffy quarantine beard and slightly grown out hair, had grabbed hold of you and pulled you into him in a bear hug in one swift movement. Over the past few weeks living together during the pandemic, you’d gotten to know each other much better than you had when the world was “normal.” You'd seen each other first thing in the morning and gotten used to speaking freely with each other without fear of sounding weird, as it turned out you both were. You had been a friend of Scott's for a few months, and met Chris through him while he was filming a movie in L.A. After meeting him during a night of drinking at Scott’s place, you hit it off but were only casual friends...until the rona hit.

One night in the beginning of it all, you were lonely in your apartment when Scott convinced you it'd be a good idea to quarantine with his sexy ass brother that you hardly knew.

“Y/N, it's the perfect idea! You're both single and I'm in Massachusetts with our family,” Scott said. “There's no reason you should drive yourselves crazy quarantining alone when you could just live together —just until all this is over.”

Your family was miles away in Texas and your L.A. friends had their own thing going on, so you took him up on the offer, totally skipping the steps of even establishing that you like each other to living together during a global pandemic. The first day was a bit awkward as it was natural to be — you were in someone who was two steps up from a stranger’s home and self conscious because, again, he was fine as hell – but that night the two of you sat on his living room floor and bonded.

“If we tell each other our darkest and most embarrassing parts of our lives, the awkwardness is gone,” Chris had said. So you spent 5 hours talking about the deepest hurts and the greatest joys of your lives. From then on, it felt like you had known each other for years. You even got close with Dodger, who at first wanted nothing to do with you or your cat that you’d brought with you, Mocha.

You relaxed into Chris’ arms, letting your desire to be close to him take precedence over the practical side of you that didn't want to potentially ruin the dynamic you'd built. Chris, almost as if it was instinctual, kissed the top of your head and held you as if he had done it a hundred times before.

Fuck the dynamic.

You turned around to face him, mustering every ounce of bravery you've ever had. Almost instantly, he leaned in, as if he'd been waiting on you to turn around this whole time. His beard bristled against your face as your lips crashed against each other's, finally finding their way to one another after weeks of just friendly banter. You were on top of him now, your hands grazing over his mid length hair while his traveled down to your ass.

“I've been wanting to touch you for weeks,” he said between kisses.

“Then why did I have to make the first move?” you said, a wry smile on your face.

A devious grin spread across Chris’ face as he flipped you over on the couch so that he was on top. He left wet kisses on your neck and after lifting your shirt over your head, moved to the parts of your chest left exposed from your bra and down to your stomach. Your hips bucked with an arch forming in your back, relishing in the fact that Evans’ hands and lips were all over your body.

The two of you in all your feverish affection managed to roll off of the couch and fall onto the carpet, somehow knocking down the half full beer off the coffee table in the process.

You were straddling Chris on the ground, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you, to feel his bare skin on yours. You noticed the beer spilled on the floor.

“Shit.”

“It's okay, babe, leave it,” Chris said, his voice gruff and husky.

He picked you up and carried you to his bedroom, a place you'd never seen. His room was pristinely clean, for a man at least — very little was out of place. He laid you on the bed with a sense of determination, whispering in your ear as he got on top of you, his shirt half off, “I'm gonna show you how bad I've been wanting this.” His Boston accent had come out in full force...you'd only heard it like this after you'd both been drinking and your own Texas twang snuck out.

“I dare you,” you replied.

Everything seemed to move at lightning speed after that. It was like there was electricity within the touch of his fingers. In a whirlwind he took off your clothes and his own and before you knew it you could feel his dick brush against you, hesitating before he entered you.

“It's ok, I trust you. I want you,” you said at a near whisper, stroking his hair.

At first it was slow, the strokes were uncertain until he got accustomed to you and started a sensual rhythm. He eased himself deeper into you, causing you to throw your head back, letting yourself meld into him. His speed picked up while his lips grazed your nipples and the sound of his wooden bed frame hitting the wall filled the room.

You were in some sort of trance from the feeling of his hips moving against yours. Slowing down a little, Chris pinned your arms to his bed, brushed some of your now wild hair out of your face and placed his hands in yours. “Look at me,” he growled. Your fingers curled around his as he drove himself deeper inside you with a sense of urgency. As you stared into his blue-gray eyes you could feel yourself falling apart, and he did soon after.

The golden light from the setting sun peeked through the windows while you laid in Chris’ arms. Neither of you said a word but you felt closer than ever. Any amount of distance that was between you was gone now.

@honeychicanawrites I would love to know what you think of this. You inspired me to start writing fics!

#chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #captain america #quarantine imagine #quarantine #black writers

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seenashwrite · 6 years

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Dearest Nash, I've touched on this before in (I believe) in a discussion re: why some mainstream fics get oodles of notes while more original ones do not, *but* I wanted to get a bit more specific here. There are certain writers here whose writing has a definite vibe to it (if you will) that separates their work from others, and your name is one of the first that comes to mind. Bear with me, because trying to detail what makes your writing stand out is difficult while trying to articulate a Q

^ this is a gif with parts 2 - 4, just FYI

Hmmm… this is a bit of a brain buster. But I can answer it, and I think succinctly, maybe with a touch of that Spidey sense you mention:

Thank you for your inquiry, hope that helps!

I kid. But this is a brain-turner. And a characteristic which, like you say, ain’t limited to me. I’d honestly throw comedians under this umbrella, too, not because I’m necessarily gunning for a laugh every time, but because it’s pretty much their job to take a “basic” (a tenet or fact of life or present reality or whatever) and present the observation with a twist. I think of storyteller comedians specifically, your Patton Oswalt-s, Maria Bamford-s, Kathy Griffin-s, and John Mulaney-s.

So if I can sum up, assuming I’m tracking with you, what you’re more or less driving at with the “how” is this –> Is there anything beyond simply personality, or an auto-pilot thought cascade (for lack of better terminology) that contributes? Are there things someone could do/be proactive about, to perhaps cause this same sort of reaction to happen in their brain?

I think there just might be.

Folks reading this, let me ask you a question, and you cannot look it up:

What was the name of the Sherpa guide who led Sir Edmund Hillary up Mount Everest?

His name was Tenzing Norgay.

Nash, what in the name of the frozen corpse of George Mallory does this have to do with Lion’s question?

I shall tell you.

My father told me that fact when I was quite young, so young I legit couldn’t even ballpark my age for you. The context was that having little facts tucked away in your brain may come in handy. Not in a Jeopardy kind of way, more in a conversational way. I’ve no idea why the man thought the Sherpa guide who led Hillary up Mt. Everest would ever come up during a conversation with enough regularity to justify my knowing that fact (aside from him randomly quizzing me throughout my life) but hey, I guess it just did.

But speaking of Lil’ Nash, the situation for her was that she was the eldest of all the Nash litter by miles… like seven or eight years, I’m not bothering to check. So I had a lot of alone time, and my grandmother was my chief babysitter, so prior to kindergarten and then til I was in about second grade (so: all day long during the week, then every weekday after she picked me up from school), I was pretty much always at her house. Yeah, there were toys, but not a lot to do. And I’d read. I’d been reading on my own for a decent while, not because I was some prodigy but because my dad read to me *constantly* when Lil’ Nash was Itty-Bitty Nash, and it “took”. My mom also, every time she went to the grocery store always - and I mean always - brought back a book for me. It might’ve been an Archie comic—-

Mandatory #fuck the CW’s Riverdale tag

—-or a Babysitter’s Club, or Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume, Madeleine L’Engle, Zilpha Keatley Snyder, you get my point. Some small paperback. It would piss Dad off because he’s a cheap bastard and two buck books once or twice a month were really gonna cut into the savings [eyeroll] but also, in a way, because I’d kill it in a half day/a day. Wouldn’t put it down. After awhile, I started writing my own silly little kid stories, then - and this is where the creative writing love came about - I started writing soap operas for my Barbies. (When I was older - like, 5th grade? 6th grade, maybe? - none of my peers were still playing with Barbies, and I got made fun of when, at a sleepover, they saw my stash. And I was like - No, no, no. Those aren’t for playing. That’s my cast.)

Time went on, and when I was bored at post-church lunch/dinners, I would also read the old encyclopedias at my grandmother’s, the ones from the late ‘60s/early ‘70s that she had for my mom and my aunt. As I got even older and became fascinated with rooting through the boxes in gran’s basement, looking at all the cool old clothes, I stumbled upon my aunt’s collection of Whoa-Hooooo Shit There’s No Way My Grandparents Knew You Read These books. Those kinda Harlequin-esque ones, except my aunt’s tastes run close to mine, none were the same shtick with different covers, shmultzy-sappy romance, there was always some sort of intrigue along with the sexy times, and she also had, like, every legit V. C. Andrews (meaning: not the ones from the ghostwriter, this was way before her death) book.

What is my point? I read a LOT. Now-a-days, other than fanfic (which… straight up: I don’t read a lot of that, either. I peace out on probs 80% of it before the third-to-fifth paragraph. It’s gotta sell me fast, yo) I haven’t read fiction in probably, oh…. 12 years? I think the last ones were the first couple Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Wait, no! I lie! I read the 50 Shades books when I was traveling 2x/wk for a job about 4 years ago, and I needed the laughs. It worked. Oh my days, that woman can’t write. The screenplay might’ve been worse, it goes her, then Buckleming, then everyone else. It’s bad. In any event, past decade or so, it’s more historical stuff and true crime and science stuff and all that old fart jazz.

Okay, so that’s #1: Read. And not just anything, be well-read, and that doesn’t mean developing some level of expertise, by “well” I’m saying to cover the spread. You’re building your tool kit, is all. You won’t use most of it, but it’s nice to have options. You also don’t always have to get this stuff from reading now-a-days, because podcasts. Cover the spread there, too. Lemme look at my bookmarks….

[Spongebob narrator voice: A few moments later]

I’m back. Science - Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe; General current stuff without being news - CGP Grey’s Hello Internet; current events with shittons of pop culture, past and present - Greg Proops’ Smartest Man in the World; fun history stuff - The Dollop; entertainment stuff - How Did This Get Made.

#2: Keep a notebook with you and jot down turns-of-phrase that spark something in your brain - things you read on websites, on twitter, in articles, things you hear people say (real life, TV, movies, podcasts), and write it. Don’t snap a pic with your phone or make a note in your phone. There are studies behind this, I’m not hunting them down, you’ll just have to trust me, but there are, and it goes to being reflexive, a brain “muscle memory” thing, if you will. You’re not doing it to plagiarize, you’re doing it to dissect it, kind’ve like you did with the example you gave on me —> went from punch action to punch spiked with booze to a punch with a spiked gauntlet.

Which leads to #3: Mental dictionary. I have a large vocab repository, and it stems from the tons of reading - I stop and look up stuff if I either don’t know it, or it’s used in such a way that I think they’ve got it wrong and want to double-check that maybe there’s another usage I don’t know - and also stems from a drive to combat the (still fairly thick) deep South drawl I can’t kick, and not for lack of trying. But see, I couldn’t have whipped out that progression if I weren’t aware that one definition of “spike” is “to add alcohol to”, or of the common shtick in stories of spiked punch like at high school proms typically, or knew about the existence of spiked gauntlets / old school armor.

And I guarantee you that a good chunk of people didn’t really “get it”, and just thought “Nash Be Nashin’, that nutty gal”. So they “get it” on that level, but don’t Get. It., if you see what I’m saying. And that’s fine. Maybe it got something cranking in the back of their mind and it’ll hit ‘em in the middle of the night, or they’ll be watching Game of Thrones or something, see a gauntlet and be like “Oh goddamnit, I just got a throw-a-way one-liner from three years ago” and have a chuckle.

Related, re: looking stuff up and things that people “get”? I didn’t know fuck-all about Twilight, but it seemed of import to the folks around 5 years younger than me, the Nashlings wouldn’t shut up about it, so I got a good working knowledge of it. Same with Harry Potter, and through it I got to “know” J.K. Rowling, who I find to be an exceptional writer, so that was great, and I’ve watched the movies for the most part over the years at Christmastime, and I don’t give the first shit about what “house” I’m in, nor do I care about what Patronus I’d fart, but I have a working knowledge of what those are, and horcruxes and who Snape and Voldie are, you get my point. I can keep up. But to do it, I had to take the time to look it up. One thing I would not trade for gold is Michael Sheen chewing the goddamn scenery in that battle segment from the last Twilight movie. Have I watched the movie? No. But that scene is the shit. And that baby CGI is horrific on several subtle levels. And not-so-subtle. I’ve digressed.

Back to those notes: So if you’ve got these notes jotted, you might see something else and think “I feel like that could’ve been snappier…. why do I think that….” And you’ve got a resource at your disposal, that little notebook. Hell, jot that thing down - things you think could be done better. I have in many documents a highlight around chunks of scenes for my big dog story where it says in bold above or below “DO BETTER”. Meaning: there’s a better way to get from A to B, but I’m just not quite there yet. I’m pretty quick on the uptake and can crank out something snappy on the fly (like say, in CASPN chat or when banging out a short reply or thank you note) but there’s definitely times I gotta slap a DO BETTER on it and walk away til that snappy something-or-other light bulb goes off.

Here’s a recent one where I backtracked, matter of fact - that noir spoof thing I wrote? Along with my co-writer, Moscato? There was a line that I couldn’t hit with a good zinger, so I just said moments were going by like a fat hamster on a wheel, which is cute, but not really grooving with the setting/the vibe. Less tipsy, when I was correcting some inelegant formatting and a misspelling [sigh], I went “Oh! Why didn’t this occur to me last night? Right. Wine.” So the line is now about moments dragging like a rolling donut with a copper on its tail. Get it? The cop’s a fat ass. The donut-cop stereotype.

…….Fine, it ain’t my best, but it fits better. Moving on.

And this leads nicely into #4, and a specific tip I can impart - assuming you’ve got a passable-to-high level of vocabulary in your tool belt, practice messing around with making nouns into verbs, and twisting random stuff into descriptors and using bizarre words/things in metaphors/analogies. Like, I say “adulting” quite a bit. Ali - @littlegreenplasticsoldier - I thiiiink was writing recently about Sam being drunk, and he’s a tall wobbly Jenga tower on his last Jenga. Going back to the noir, pulpy detective style, try messing with the whole “S/he was like a ___ that ____”. Add on to stuff that’s well known - He was like a dog with a bone, if the bone was a ____ and he was a ____ and we were in a ____. (I have *nothing* in mind to fill those blanks, by the way, feel free to twist it into sumpin’)

What else…. okay, here’s a #5: In drafts, let yourself wander, and see what kicks out. It can be fueled by silliness or anger, but I don’t reckon you’re gonna get the “snappy” you’re aiming for if you’re down in the dumps and going full-court-press angst. The best stuff, IMO, comes from the space in between goofy and pissed, and that is The Land Of Snark. You can always re-style it to bend more dry or wistful should you need to, certainly, depending on the situation.

Have a sample of a primo Nash Digression that was fueled by ire in a recap from Season 12 (episode 19). I had said - RE: the random inclusion of the character Joshua, which still pisses me off because they burned a character that held massive potential for future stuff as he’d been shown to be the only angel with direct access to Chuck, so, y’know, that could never come in handy, like ever again in the series, right? - the following.

Mandatory pre-emptive #fuck Dabb

[Spongebob narrator voice] A few moments later —>

On god, I have no idea where that came from, and here’s where we go back to ol’ Spidey up there, because end of the day?

All that other stuff’s the foundation, sure, but there’s always gonna be the weird iggy, the thing that can’t be learned or taught, whatever the quirky synapse is that fires off in my/our brains. In my experience, it’s an ADD-ish sort of jam mixed with the Nostradamus effect. Meaning, (A) we’re at Level 10, rapid fire thought processing >50% of the time, and (B) throw out enough stuff for long enough, some of it’s going to stick. And I whiff it plenty. Multiple times in CASPN chat I’ve been like “Whoo, tough room” when something falls flat.

A specific example: @mrswhozeewhatsis - and I think you saw this, but anyone else seeing this may not have - gave probably the most fantastic analogy I’ve seen regarding the whole “getting it” thing, and while it was on the topic of meaty plots that get too far into the weeds (my specialty) and how it can lessen appeal to a broader audience, it still applies here.

She said “Sometimes, when I’m reading something of yours, I feel like there’s a joke I’m missing. It’s like watching Spaceballs without having seen Star Wars.” I say that to say - nobody’s gonna land references that cover the spread 100% of the time. And, y’know, fine. I figure maybe it’ll prompt someone to do a quick google for - well, let’s use Spaceballs. Most folks will no doubt get the Star Wars part, but maybe not Spaceballs. Maybe they’ll check it out, find something they enjoy. Or learn a new word. Or get a brainstorm for a story. Who knows?

Last tip: Don’t actively mimic anyone’s style. Much fail. And I don’t only mean because if they’re on a social Venn diagram with you, would likely recognize themselves in your stuff——

Takes a moment to wave to the peeps still trying with me! #bless your hearts

—–but because it’s fucking hard. I did it broadly on the noir thing, that’s not a hard thing, to homage generalities, but the way I’m messing with doing this on that silly Princess Bride series? Purposefully styling it like Goldman? It’s good challenging and all, and it is making it feel more in the groove with the book/movie, but I have to be in the right frame of mind or it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard, and when I have pushed it, then gone back, it’s sloggy, soggy garbage.

I say all that to say: it’s an amalgam of brain-wiring/personality, and world/life perspective(s), and knowledge acquired over time. The first just is; the second will evolve in myriad ways, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse; the last is the one where you/we have control, we can fill bucket after bucket of information, and the well won’t ever run dry.

Sorry this took so long. I kept adding and subtracting. This is the edited version, if you can believe it. Welcome to Nash Brain. 😉

#Dear Nash #becominglionhearted #Writing Advice #and / or #Writing Stuff #maybe #Writing Tips #unsure #we'll go with all of it #ah I know #Writing Style #that's the ticket #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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