#I haven't yet figured out what their written language looks like. that's for another time

[styllwaters]

do you have any ideas about Knight language(s)? How they sound, work, etc.?

I'm glad you asked! Sorry this took so long; it's a bit of a long one.

For Knight languages, all vocalisations originate from the Host. Spoken language is harsh and guttural, consisting of deep growling, hissing, and ‘rolls of the tongue’. Their growls are quite loud, and accompanying them are low-frequency vibrations which can be felt across the entire body. The closest approximation would be cassowary rumbling. Hosts rely less on their ears (which are small holes hidden under their fur) and more on vibrations to detect sound.

Helmets are incapable of making such complex vocalisations and instead use many forms of sign language to communicate via their manipulators. When a Knight mentally separates their Host and Helmet, the Helmet is no longer able to speak through the Host. As such, there are two main language forms used by Knights of every regional variety; the vocal Host language and the signing Helmet language.

However, typically when Knights are communicating, they may use a mixture of the two, called Speech-sign. Helmet signing accompanied by Host speech aids in conveying proper tone, considering Host articulation tends to be very monotone. It also contains underlying messages; or what we would call subtext. As a result, Knights tend to be highly attentive to body language and focus on hand movements rather than eyes/mouth when in conversation.

[Pictured above: the Plains pike-fort Kryyit-kan conversing with their guard-spire mate, Ynsi-jehwa. Kryyit is apologising for squishing Ynsi's favourite pet bug.]

There are some ‘universal’ signs and gestures which are generally understood by all Knights, no matter the language or region. Many of these signs are also used during hunts to communicate from afar without startling prey. Mountain, Plains, and Polar Knight children are taught these from an early age.

[Pictured above: the eight essential signs used by all Knights. Helmet manipulators are highly dexterous and can move in various directions.]

Knights also have ‘drumming’ languages, which is a method of communicating over long distances. Mainly used in Plains regions, Knights drum on the sand with their back feet in patterns not unlike Morse code. For more reliable and accurate communication they may use a thumping device. Knights are able to detect these seismic disturbances over vast stretches of land.

ADDITIONAL FACTS

Mountain Knight names tend to contain a lot of consonants and are the most hissy/raspy/guttural. The Host name comes before the Helmet name, and they are combined into one. (Eg. Neghasharat-Hksuutaka = Negha-taka)

Plains Knight names have more vowels and are slightly higher pitched. They are similar to the Mountain naming scheme, except the Helmet name comes before the Host name. (Eg. Krryitmana-Kankala = Krryit-kan)

Polar Knight names are not two-part. They do not name their Host or Helmets at all, only naming the Knight infant when they are assimilated. They are generally shorter and are the highest pitched. (Eg. Reio)

Knight 'laughing' sounds exactly like tiger chuffing!

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Seven Days to Fall Again | Friday | Jeon Jungkook

Inspired by the MV "Seven" by Jung Kook ft. Latto (obvi lol) Summary:Caught in the rain, trying to get to you. You tried to go out to clear your head but he wants to make sure you know he's always looking out for you. Pairing: Reader x Jungkook (almost exes to lovers lol) Word Count: 4.3k (longest chapter so far lol) Warnings: Smut (too lazy to add specifics lol), Explicit language that's it lol a/n: Hey guys so uh...got a little carried away with this one but I said this a little while ago but Friday really didn't have much of a plot in the mv so I kinda just went with whatever felt right. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! p.s. barely edited and written in one sitting but I figured I might as well post it lol Start from the beginning

I'm going out tonight, nothing major or anything I just wanted to go out so I can get him off my mind even if it's only for a few hours.

Walking into the restaurant I'm greeted with a big group of my colleagues and I slide in next to one of the girls while I greet everyone. A couple of minutes later we all settle back into our own separate conversations with one of the many not so comfortable ones about to start. 

"You look like shit" Kayla whispers to me. She's my best friend so I'm used to her being this honest but it still comes as a surprise sometimes. "Thanks Kay" I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes at her before taking a sip of water. 

"No but for real what's wrong? You've been ignoring me for the past few days and then suddenly you're inviting everyone out like nothings happened?" she questions, knowing that something's up. "What's wrong with inviting people out? I'm sorry I haven't been answering you, I've have a busy couple of days" I say, not necessarily lying but knowing that I had the time to respond to her if I wanted to. 

I decided to just take what I had hoped for was a step back for a second to just do me but then I ended up dealing with Jungkook chasing me around instead so everything else just seemed like it was too much. "Whatever" Kayla says taking a sip of her beer, knowing I'm lying but deciding not to push it. If it were just the two of us I know she would shake me until I spit it out but she knows better than to do that in front of everyone. 

"So y/n, how are things going? We thought that Jungkook would've come with you" one of the girls at the other end of the table says with her boyfriend right next to her nodding in agreement. "Oh he had to work late" I say giving a simple excuse hoping they'll drop it and luckily they do. Before we're able to move on though my eyes widen in horror as I see the devil himself walking into the restaurant and look around until he spots me, giving me a soft smile with an unreadable expression. 

"Hey guys" Jungkook says awkwardly but comes up to sit next to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek to make things seem normal, being able to tell from my body language alone that I haven't told anyone about the breakup yet. 

"Hi Noona" he whispers in my ear making me shiver. I scold myself for letting my body betray me but I can't really do much to change it anymore. I pull away from him and take another drink of water trying to cover up things but I can tell from the slight smile on his face he know he's still got a hold on me. 

"Oh Jungkook! Y/n was just saying how you couldn't come because you were working late" the same girl asks, curious for an explanation. I know she means well but this girl just doesn't know when to quit. "Oh I wanted to surprise her" he says draping his arm around the back of my chair. It's luckily an answer that satisfies all of them and the conversation switches to another topic soon after. 

"What are you doing here?" I turn and whisper to him, making sure the people around us definitely won't hear. "I went by the apartment and I saw that you weren't there and I got worried. You still share your location with me so I wanted to come and make sure you were okay" he says placing his hand on my thigh as a way to show his sincerity and also play the part of still being a happy couple. 

"Well as you can see I'm fine so you can leave now" I say and pull back giving him a pointed look but before he can respond another person from the group speaks up. "What are you two love birds talking about over there?" one of the guys teases. "Wouldn't you like to know" Jungkook says with a smug smile taking the burden of having to come up with an excuse off of me.

"How have things been with you guys though? It's been a while since either of you have been out with us?" another girl asks. When did tonight become a ask y/n and Jungkook 20 questions? Why can't we just drink and eat and talk about anything but us, even though there's not really an 'us' right now. 

"Things have been good, yeah we're- oh look the food is here!" I start but I'm thankfully given an excuse to turn the topic to something else as the waiters place all of the various side dishes in front of us as well as the raw meat to grill with everyone's minds are now focused on getting everything ready to eat. 

Jungkook gets a piece of meat off the grill and adds it to his ssam and I go to do the same but as soon as I'm putting the finishing touches on mine Jungkook holds his out and offers it to me. "Open" he says, urging me to let him feed me and I give him a dead pan expression, annoyed that he would even go this far. 

I look around the table and see the others taking little glances at us and commenting on how cute we are and so I turn my eyes back over to him and open my mouth for him to put in and he does so happily, watching attentively and making sure I don't choke on anything. 

Once I've chewed a bit I continue filling the one I was working on and instead overfill it and hold it out for Jungkook to eat. He looks down at it, intimidated by the size but once I cock a brow at him he opens his mouth receiving it and the next second I shove it into his mouth, leaving him coughing and struggling to get it down. 

"Is he okay?" one of the guys asks me. "Oh yeah he's fine don't worry about it. Aren't you honey?" I say, daring him to say otherwise and he simply holds up an 'okay' sign with his hand as he coughs and tries his best to chew and swallow everything down which annoyingly he's able to do. 

"How did that taste love?" I whisper to him with a sickeningly sweet smile, payback for him showing up here even though he knew I wouldn't want him here. "Was that really necessary?" he questions after taking a few gulps of water. "Was you coming here really necessary? I told you to leave me alone" I whisper to him and at this point I sound like a broken record. 

"I want to talk to you though" he responds doing just the same. "And until you let me I'm just gonna keep showing up and bothering you until you give me a chance to do so" he says, finally admitting to his nonsense tactic to getting his way, clearly making his younger age show. I stand up abruptly, and decide that I have given up on keeping up appearances and make moves to leave. 

"Sorry guys I'm not feeling well so I think I'm gonna get going" I say and open my purse and hand Kayla twenty dollars to cover my part of the bill. "You okay?" she asks and I say yes but she can clearly see that I'm not. "I'll be fine guys don't worry I'm just gonna head home and get some rest" I say and when I start to walk away Jungkook follows after also following suit to give Kayla more than enough to cover for us. 

"You can stay here and have fun with them" I says sweetly, putting up an act for them but using it as a threat to him. "No it's okay Jungkook go help take care of her we'll see you guys next time" one of them says but before I'm able to disagree Jungkook jumps in. "Thanks for everything guys" he responds before ushering the both of us towards the exit. 

Before we step outside the door though we finally notice it's started to rain, and not just rain but a full on downpour. "When did it start raining?" I ask looking at the world outside as it looks a though it had been raining for ages already. "It looked kind of cloudy when I came in but it wasn't raining yet" he says, just as shocked by the sight. 

"Lemme call us a cab" he says and pulls out his phone to do so. "No I can get one myself" I say and take a deep breath before walking out, no rain jacket, no umbrella, nothing. I just need to get away from here and away from him as soon as possible. "Y/n where are you going?" he says and runs after me and before I'm even able to try and hail a cab I can clearly see that there are none in sight. 

"Just come back inside and we can wait for one and if you want we can even take separate cabs" he offers trying to meet me halfway. "No, I don't need your help" I say and blindly start walking away, hoping he will just go back inside and leave me alone "Noona wait it's too dangerous!" he calls after me but I don't even bother looking back. 

"You know you're going the wrong way right?" he yells, hoping to get me to turn around and let him help me. "I don't care" I yell back and start walking faster. "Where are you going?" he yells, making sure to still stay close. "Away from you" I say and keep going on my journey to no where. 

"Just let me help you get home okay, please" he begs but I don't budge, I'm gonna keep walking until he gets tired and finally leaves me alone. "You know I'm not letting you walk these streets all by yourself right? As long as you're out here I'm staying with you" he say, seeing right through me but I keep walking anyway.

~~~~~~ 

I keep walking and walking until we've come to that same bookshop I had been in just yesterday, finally taking notice of just how far I've walked. I finally stop and catch my breath for a second, trying to figure out what the hell kind of point I'm trying to prove here but I can't come up with one that is big enough to do something ridiculous like this. 

He catches up to me a few seconds later and just stands beside me, not trying to get closer and not bothering to say anything since he knows it would probably just make me even more angry. 

We stand there for a second and I look up at the sky, taking a deep breath before looking back over at him where he's just standing there and looking at the wet ground around me, not making eye contact with me either, just making sure that I know that he's going to be right here standing next to me no matter what I say. 

I take another deep breath and swallow my pride before holding my hand out for him to take. He shifts his weight away from me and just stares at it for a second, trying to figure out what caused a change in heart that I would not only stop but ask for him to grab my hand. 

"So you gonna take it or not?" I ask getting irritated that he's taking too long to make up his mind and at that he reaches his hand out quickly and places it in mine before looking back up at me with a questioning gaze. Instead of responding I just tug on his hand and turn us both around to walk back the way we just came and start heading back home.

~~~~ 

Once we get to the door I immediately grab my keys and open up, letting the both of us inside. "Fuck I'm freezing" I say taking off my shoes and stripping off my sweater, forgetting the tiny tank top I'm wearing without a bra and I don't even notice until I turn back around and see that he's staring at my chest, nipples cold and hard and when he he notices I'm staring at him he looks up at me with an intensity I haven't seen in a while. 

I look at him, drinking in his figure as well seeing how soaked his white t-shirt is and how his pants are clinging to his thighs. I gulp and look back up at his face where his eyes have gotten even darker from observing how I was checking him out as well. 

He takes a few steps towards me and I stumble back against a wall and am forced to watch as he takes a few steps closer until he's looking right down at me. He takes his hand and reaches for the one he had been holding before and then brings it up to his lips giving it a kiss. 

"Why did you let me in?" he questions, his voice deeper and a bit strained from breathing in the cold air from the journey here. "I-i don't know" I whisper and my eyes flick down to his lips unconsciously and he takes that as a sign to keep going. 

He places his other hand on my cheek and I flinch a bit at how cold it is but lean into it a few seconds later, welcoming the fluttering feeling it stirs my my stomach. He leans down and rests his forehead against mine causing me to close my eyes, feeling like I'm burning under his intense gaze. 

"What are you doing to me?" he whispers and all I can do is try not to whimper in response. He tilts my chin up and brings his face closer and rubs his nose up against mine making me feel breathless at the slightest sign of intimacy no matter how small and I find myself unconsciously wrapping my arms around his neck. He in turn leans in and closes the distance between us, kissing me softly but still coaxing a whimper out of me, missing the feeling off being wanted by him. 

He moulds his lips against mine and brushes his tongue along my bottom lip and I open my mouth at the feeling, letting him use his tongue to explore my mouth, making butterflies fly in my stomach and leaving me moaning softly as I welcome him in. 

I take my hands off of his shoulders and feel for his jacket and start to push it off of him which he obliges and I reach for his shirt and push it up to help him take it off and he parts from my lips only for a second to slip it over his head. I touch his bare skin and even though we were so wet and cold his skin has already started to heat up leaving me not being able to take my hands off of him.

My hands travel up and down his abs and pecks that have both gotten more defined since the last I had seen them and before I'm able to think about it any more he trails his hands down my hips and  continues to trail them down and grabs the inside of my thighs before he breaks apart our lips again telling me to jump and I do immediately, kissing him as he walks us both back to the bedroom. 

Once we get there he helps me out of my tank top and traces his hands along my bare back while pressing me closer into him our chest now flush against each other while it almost feels like he's trying to hold me even closer, not letting go and devouring my mouth until he trails his hands along my curves and fiddles with the button of my pants and waits for me to say something before actually taking them off. 

Still kissing me I part for a second and utter a hurried 'yes' before he's unzipping them and taking everything off leaving me completely bare and I help him get out of the rest of his clothes right after. 

We both fall onto the bed together and never stop kissing and I part my legs for him to lay between. He runs a finger along my slit making me whimper against his lips as he teases my clit and then circles it around my entrance and then slowly slips a finger in making me let out a restrained moan, being sensitive from not having been touched by him for so long. 

"Shit" he says feeling how tight I am just from putting in one finger and working it in and out of me, coaxing me to stretch out for him. "Jungkook" I whimper when he adds another digit and he swears again at how much I'm clenching around them. "Relax baby" he whispers rubbing his thumb against my clit in circles to help me calm down and open up enough so he can slip another finger in. 

"I haven't fucked you properly in a while huh?" he says between kisses, curling his fingers up inside of me making a breathy moan spill past my lips as I squeeze my eyes shut. "I don't know if this tiny cunt can even take me anymore. Do you think it can?" he asks rubbing his nose up against mine while he curls his fingers inside me again.

I nod my head but he's not satisfied, "Words Noona. Do you think this pretty little cunt can take me again?" he pushes and rubs his thumb around my clit again while thrusting his fingers inside of me. "Yes" I moan out and he luckily decides not to tease any longer. 

"That's a good girl" he says before taking his fingers out of me and placing them in his mouth, savoring my taste before he leans down and kisses me again "Almost forgot how sweet you taste" he says and before I'm able to even think about responding he pushes the tip inside making me let out a breathy moan. 

"Fuck I missed this" he says pushing in a bit more, giving me time to adjust before going in further. "Jungkook" I whimper, not being able to focus on anything but the sensation of feeling him bare and going deeper and deeper. "I know baby, I know" he says pushing in more while placing a kiss on my temple before bottoming out. 

"Looks like this pretty cunt is greedy isn't she?" he says while rubbing my clit, helping me get used to him. He rests his forehead against mine and lets labored breaths in and out, relishing in the feeling of my walls clenching around him. I nod my head and he takes it as a sign to move and he pulls out half way before pushing all the way in, setting a more gentle, sensual pace that leaves my brain fogging up with thoughts of only him. 

He pulls out all the way and presses back into me inch by inch, savoring how my walls are sucking him in. "Please, faster" I say, throwing my head back on the pillow, dying from the slow building feeling of my orgasm, wanting to be granted release sooner. "Patience Noona" he taunts and he presses back in but pulls out and gives me a shallow hard thrust leaving my back arching up into him. 

He quickens his pace and starts kissing on my neck, leaving marks in his wake and soon thrusting into me harder while I let out restrained moans. "No Noona let me hear you, I wanna hear you scream my name" he growls and starts thrusting into me at an animalistic pace. "Fuck Jungkook" I moan, starting to get closer to my release.

"What is it pretty?" he says slowing down the pace, leaving me whining at the feeling of my high coming down again. "No" I say throwing my head back into the pillows, hating that he robbed me of it. "No what? I just gave you a chance to tell me what you wanted, I couldn't hear you over all of your moaning" and he punctuates his sentence with a sharp thrust earning him a choked moan coming out of me and feeling me squeeze around him. 

"Does Noona wanna cum?" he taunts, giving me another sharp thrust. "Jungkook please" I beg, pulling him closer to kiss him but he stops before our lips touch. "I don't know what you want me to do unless you tell me" he says, lips brushing against mine but not close enough to kiss. 

"I wanna cum, please" I breathe out and at that I see a mischievous glint flash in his eyes before he kisses me and pounds into me harder than he had before and swallowing all of my moans of pleasure. 

"You close?" he questions after a while, already being able to feel the answer but making me say it nonetheless. "Shit y-yes so close k-keep going" I stutter, about to tip over the edge and seconds later it all comes crashing down, leaving me arching into him and dragging my nails along his back and he groans at the feeling and cums seconds after that, fucking us both through our highs. 

Once he's emptied out he keeps on thrusting until I whine from over stimulation and kisses me while he pulls out, me hating the feeling of being empty again. He lays down on top of me for a second as we both catch our breaths but soon rolls off and lays next to me while we both take a second to slow down our breathing. 

Without a word he sits up and walks over to my side and scoops me up in his arms. "What are you doing?" I ask throwing my arms around his neck. "You need to go to the bathroom and then we need to clean up he says, making decisions for what I need to do before giving me an option like always but I decide not to mention it this time, staying silent and waiting for him to put me down. 

He sets me down on my feet and turns around to turn on the shower and walks out into the hallway to get us both towels, giving me a bit of privacy to do my business before coming back in. When he comes back he opens the shower door for me and lets me walk in, holding on to make sure I don't fall before coming in after me.                         

We both stand there in the shower getting warm under the water as the doors and mirrors get fogged up in turn. 

Neither of us talks for a while until he puts some body wash in his hands and lathers it up before rubbing it onto my back and shoulders, talking his time to wash me from head to toe, cleaning and massaging all of me to make sure to loosen me up so I won't get sore. 

He's does this every time we have sex, or had sex since it's been a while and I welcome it, hating and loving the feeling. Feeling guilty about letting him take care of me like this when all I've done is push him away. 

As he finishes up he takes my shampoo and conditioner and washes my hair as well before rinsing everything off of me and switching places with me gently so he's in the direct stream of water so he can wash himself as well.

While he has his arms up and is scrubbing his scalp I wrap my arms around him from behind and rest my cheek against his back. "This was a mistake" I mumble and at that he freezes before hurrying to rinse the shampoo out of his hair so it doesn't get in either of our eyes. 

"Is that how you truly feel?" he asks, sounding disheartened but knowing that something like this was going to happen if I still wanted to push him away. "Yeah. Well, I don't know" I say, being honest with honestly not knowing how I feel. 

He turns around to face me and looks down while cupping my face in both of his hands. "Do you want me to leave?" he asks, his eyes going back and forth between mine searching my face for answers and finding the one that says I want him to leave and he utters an silent okay before I even have a chance to say anything.

He opens the shower door and closes it behind him, taking one of the towels and drying off his hair quickly before wrapping it around his waist and walking out of the bathroom. I let out a pained sigh and feel a rush of emotions flood my system with senses of doubt in all of my dealings with this.

'Do I want him to go? Do I want him to stay? Do I want to be with him? Do I want to break up?' those as well as many more are the questions that go round and round in my head without answers. 

The thing that breaks me out of that circular train of thought though is the sound of the front door closing behind him as he walks out and the next is the sound of my sobs as I hit the floor, finally let my heart break.  

Thursday / Saturday Series Masterlist

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[liminalmemories21]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @screamlet (who I've been reading since at least 2010). Thank you!

1. How many works do you have an AO3? 48

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 711,517

3. What fandoms do you write for? 911 LS, and 911

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Long Story Short (series) - LS A home isn't always the house we live in - LS It came without ribbons! - LS Always Wear Your Invisible Crown - LS Awful quiet here since love fell asleep - 911

5. Do you respond to comments? I really try to, sometimes I think they get lost in my inbox, but I do try.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? uh, none of them? I don't think I've written anything that doesn't have a happy ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? hmmm, maybe It came without ribbons?, or Knave 4 (The Knave of Clubs ... swears he'll take her part). They both end in marriage proposals.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Just a few on Knave 4, which I expected and mostly ignored.

9. Do you write smut? more often than I ever imagined I would

10. Do you write crossovers? I love a good crossover. Haven't written one yet, but would enjoy it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of. Let's keep it that way. (finger's crossed)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yup! All the 911 stuff with @cecilyv - nothing better.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Well, I don't publish WIPs, not because I have an ethical stance on it, but because I'm usually still changing things at the beginning right up until I hit post and I don't understand how people post things as they write them. Not my process.

That being said, there's a LS kidfic that I'd like to finish some day, but every time I look at it I can't figure out where it's going.

16. What are your writing strengths? I feel like this is a thing other people need to tell me? Dialogue? Plot (apparently? or so 200,000 words of Knave-verse would like me to believe).

17. What are your writing weaknesses? brevity

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'd like to do more of it, because I have characters I write who I think probably do think in another language, but it's not a language I speak, so I don't.

19. First fandom you wrote for? published? Lonestar. unpublished? there's a Merlin story @cecilyv and I wrote for years that is mostly not great, but has it's moments.

20. Favorite fics you've written? ooh, okay:

There were a bunch I wrote early for LS that are kind of character studies that I love - A home isn't always the house we live in (Judd), Stitched with its color (TK & 9/11), and through same of am through haves of give (Enzo)

And, I'd be lying if I didn't say Knave-verse, because I think Knave 2 and Knave 4 are the best things I've ever written - and there is just so much of me in the way TK thinks about art.

And then Baggage That Goes with Mine - because there isn't necessarily me in there, but there is a lot of my history in fandom and the huge cultural shift that I have seen happen since I started reading fic in Tommy's story. Also, I do love me a split timeline narrative.

tagging @walkinginland, @rmd-writes, @alchemistc, @rcmclachlan, and @three-drink-amy

[earl-grey-teacake]

How’d you get into writing? I have a few general ideas but have no idea how they would come to fruition 😭!

I got into writing fanfic because I really wanted to see certain things written out and to read them. I just felt this overwhelming need to write just so I could read it. It is very much "if you want to eat something, you have to make it yourself."

I know you are just asking how I got into it but I thought I would include my process in case you found it helpful. For background, I've been writing fanfic for 7 years. For a very long time, I was not good at writing. I learned English very close to the end of my critical period for language learning and struggled for over a decade before I got my footing. Through my own experiences and what I learned from school, I figured out how I prefer to go about write.

I am going to use First Fight from the Baby!Loscar AU as an example since it took me the longest to write. I came up with the idea in April but did not manage to finish it until August but I felt I improved my writing process a lot more.

The idea- which is the stage I think you are at. You have an idea and maybe a scene figured out but you haven't worked it out how this scene connects and how everything forms a whole story.

My idea was just " Logan and Oscar having their first big fight and not handling it well."

2. Write the most imperfect draft you can- I don't say rough draft because it makes people think that the next draft has to be a final draft. I genuinely mean imperfect. Grammar and punctuation? Does not matter. Formatting? Doesn't exist. Logic and cohesive timeline? Irrelevant. What you want is for all your thoughts and ideas to be on a page and it can be in any way you want. It can be bullet points, written scenes, summaries. Doesn't matter.

My imperfect draft was just this section of dialogue and it sat on my computer for months

“We are not friends! Go away!” Oscar had yelled.

“I don’t like you! I hate you!” Logan had yelled back.

“I hate you too!” Those were the last words spoken between them.

3. Know what you want to get across- This is your Northern star, it will guide you when you are lost. Dialogue, timelines, plot- all of those things are subject to change. What isn't going to change is the message you wanted to get across. What is your theme, your core?

For First Fight, it was "these kids do not handle being separated very well. They love each other, they had a misunderstanding, and now they refuse to apologize to each other. As a result they are suffering."

4. You write the roughest draft known to man- I mean very, very rough. Expand a a bit on your imperfect draft, write a couple more scenes you would like to see. They don't need to go together yet, they just need to be on paper. Write out every scene you would like to see play out.

This was Oscar and Logan refusing to play together, Oscar playing alone with Charles, and the ending where they reconcile.

5. Polish up those sections- I know people say to polish at the end and I also do that but making the scenes you wrote look nice will help you feel confident in your work. Include the descriptions, the formatting, the add that bit of sparkle to the dialogue. Figure out the writing style you want to write in and edit all the sections to fit that.

6. Lock in- This is the not so fun part. Pick a free day, get a drink. Now is the time to write everything in between. The boring dialogue, the paragraphs that transition the reader from one scene to another, the scenes that are just lead up to the bigger, funner, more impressive scenes. They don't need to be perfect that just need to be on the page. By the end of it, you will have a some what cohesive plot. Will it be perfect? No. Will you enjoy reading it? Not really. Does it make you want to give up and write something else? Yes, but do not do that.

7. Read it and mull it over for a day- Do not touch the rough draft. Just read it and think about it. Do you like how the plot is? Do you want it funnier? sadder? Do you like how the characters are speaking? Does it feel natural to you? Is it giving what you want it to give? Is it following your Northern star?

8. Change everything you don't like- Delete everything you don't love. If it bothered you enough to stick with you for a day, you can toss it out. You feel like you need permission to delete it? Here's your permission, delete it. I have deleted half of a fic before. Nothing is sacred because none of it is perfect. Toss it out. Replace it something newer. Do you feel better when you replace it? Yes, then that's great. You don't feel better? Put something else in.

9. Do you love to read it?- It is not would other people love to read it. Is it not "is it perfect?" It is do you love to read it, if you were to come across this fic in the middle of the day on AO3. Would you be excited to see it? If the answer is no, repeat step 8 and 9. Do it until the answer is yes or until you cannot change anything else in it.

10. Polish it- Now that you love your work, it is the time to make it easier to read. Separate out your paragraphs, throw it into a grammar checker, format (bold, italicize, etc.). This is where you make it look pretty.

11. Post it- Congratulations! You posted your work on AO3! You did it! Pat yourself on the back and treat yourself to some boba. The work is your baby. You worked hard on it and you should be proud.

FAQ

I wrote all of this and I love it but what if other people don't love it?

They will. None of us writing know for sure if people will love or hate our work before we post it. So until someone outright sends a 500 word count rant about how much they despise it, assume everyone will love it.

What if it isn't perfect?

Many things in this world aren't perfect and we love them. A plushie that was sewn wrong or is missing an ear is still picked up and loved. A puppy missing a leg or an eye is still a beloved part of the family. Writing isn't about being perfect, it is about being human. It is your words, your emotions, and your imagination all on a page and like all humans, you writing will improve as we all do. I don't consider any of my writing perfect and yet, I continue to write because I want to get better and because I love it.

What do you use to write?

You don't need any tools to write but some make it easier for you than others. I recently spent money on Bsun Tuzi switches for my keyboard and it had helped me write a lot quicker but a mechanical keyboard is an investment and a pricey one.

I use Apple Pages to write since I like how clean their format it. I also organize my work on Notion or Obsidian,

I started off writing on Google docs and Word so you don't need the fancy stuff.

I don't know how to write dialogue.

Since I mainly do F1 and Indycar RPF, my biggest recommendations is to listen to Grill the Grid and podcasts. I don't usually be press interviews since I find the drivers to be more stifled and are likely saying what their team wants to say. They tend to be a bit more human on Grill the Grid and podcasts.

I just listen and see what each of them like to talk about, how they talk, etc.

I hope this helps. If you want me to elaborate on something, let me know. Feel free to ask me more questions.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday: Viper continuation

For context: in previous sections Daxter's ottsel hearing and Jak's eco-assisted eyes picked up a deadly snake camouflaged near Damas’s throne. It didn't get there by itself. Having foiled the assassination attempt, Damas keeps the boys with him to help identify the would-be assassin. As it will turn out in a part I haven't written yet, there are two: one is an agent of Veger disguised as a monk who wants to destabilize the Spargan nation so Haven can control it. The other is an exiled Krimzon Guard who thinks Damas is too soft and who has been promised his old rank back if he kills him.

Obviously, this means tensions are about to be very high between Spargus and Haven. A note: the language I have Spargans using for ceremonies comes from some conlangers on reddit who have been expanding the Gerudo language from Breath of the Wild. I chose Gerudo because "Sabaa'geru" or "Evening People" sounded like something that over generations could become the word Spargus.

Check out their work HERE and HERE!

"Hey boss!" Daxter hopped out of the elevator and made straight for the pools of water. "Aaaaahhh. Sweet relief."

Damas stifled a chuckle at the boy's antics. He was better suited to the heat than he pretended, but he'd never begrudge Daxter the use of the water. By the time he'd looked away, Jak was already halfway to the dais with a spring in his step. Something rattled in his hand.

"I didn't expect to see you today, Jak," Damas greeted him, "What's that you've got?"

Jak held up an intricate band of bones, fangs and claws symmetrically spaced between tiny vertebra and polished until they shone. "It's done!"

Carefully, he passed it to Damas, watching him eagerly for his opinion. Damas turned the band necklace over in his hands, eyebrows raised.

"You have some skill, my boy! I'm impressed with the detail! How long did it take you?"

"Not too long. The fangs were the last piece I needed. See?" Jak leaned over his arm to point to the Dust Demon viper's fangs, forming a circle at the front that mimicked the emblem on the tower door.

"You can keep it, I have another one I'm working one." Jak clearly meant it, but the way he was looking at the necklace suggested he wasn't ready to part with it.

"It reminds me of the arm circlets my captains wear outside the city's walls, albeit bone rather than woven fabric." Damas stepped back up to his throne and set the jewelry down on its arm to admire it. He turned to look back down at Jak, who was clearly pleased by the comparison.

"Were you able to locate Thrax or the false monk?"

Jak's smile fell immediately into a scowl. "Lost Thrax in the Underport. Veger's guy? No idea. Sorry."

Damas jolted. "You chased him all the way into Haven?! Were you seen?"

In the water, Daxter opened one eye and called up, "They don't suspect nothin'. See, those ungrateful yakkows think they can just snap their fingers and Jak will come runnin', so they just figure we're there on one of their orders and start piling on the tasks."

He shut his eye again and yawned. "Boy are they in for a surprise if this turns into war."

"It may come to war," Damas acknowledged. He was devastatingly matter-of-fact about it, as if he was simply discussing the weather. He turned away from his throne, and the ring of tiny bones, to face Jak.

His gaze rested on him with an unbearable weight.

"Should that day come, you will no longer be able to simply run between cities as you please. I need to know where you stand, Jak."

Perhaps his own lack of hesitation should have concerned him. Made him feel guilty for abandoning friends and history so quickly.

It didn't. It made him feel braver than he'd ever felt.

Taking a breath for courage, Jak stepped up onto the dais and approached the king.

"If you asked it of me," Jak said quietly, meeting Damas’s eyes for as long as he could, "I would breach the walls myself. If you gave the order, I'd even lead the Infiltrators right into the Council Hall. As long as the few people who actually stood with us are given at least a chance to support Spargus, there is nothing binding me to Haven."

Damas looked at him with a bemused expression that wavered between stern and fond before a gentle pride won out. He laughed softly and shook his head.

"I don't think I've ever had a citizen quite as bold as you, young one." He rubbed his chin in thought for a moment, then smirked. "Very well, I accept your terms. Give me the names of these "friends", and they will be granted a chance for asylum."

The boy's smile was brief, but genuine and full of life. He stood a little straighter, trying to look as grown-up as possible.

"Then you have your answer," he replied.

"You'll stand with me? Even against the city your friends call home?" Damas pressed, just to be certain.

With a level of emotion unusual for him, Jak answered firmly, "I'd follow you into the underworld. You're-"

He cut himself off quickly, but his eyes finished the sentence for him.

You're the closest thing I have to a father-!

Blinking in a belated effort to hide those emotions, Jak let them push his impulse into action. Two deep breaths, one for courage, one for luck. Then he bowed, fist to his heart.

"Damas, where you go, I go. I will stand with you -- I swear on the Beacon -- even against the people who called themselves our friends. For our people."

Inside, he was shaking. This was a step he'd never taken. He'd never formally given his loyalty to anyone. If Damas didn't accept it-

Jak refused to think about that.

In an instant Damas’s entire posture softened. He placed both hands on Jak’s shoulders, and raised him back up.

"Do you understand what you're saying?" he asked in a hushed voice.

With a dry throat, Jak swallowed and nodded hard. He searched his mind frantically for the old Coastwatcher language Wastelanders still used for ceremonial purposes.

"A'neen Sabaa'geru vaqu."

We are Spargans.

"E'so Sabaa'geru vaqu, darro'ni," Damas answered gravely. You are of Spargus, my son.

It took him far less time to remember the old tongue.

He stepped back to scoop the band of snake vertebrae off his throne and looped it twice around Jak’s right arm before bringing their foreheads together for an instant.

"I will not forget this," he vowed. "I'm...proud of you, Jak."

Now we are one, son-of-my-heart, his spirit sang. What do I care if you have not earned your last amulet? Now and forever you are Spargan!

Jak's eyes glistened when Damas released him, but his crooked smile didn't budge. This was no childish impulse, he'd meant every word. And Damas would honor that pledge.

"Go, then," he said, returning the smile, "seek out your allies in Haven and tell me where they stand."

"We will." Jak squared his shoulders proudly.

"And," Damas added, raising a brow, "I will expect regular reports on your progress, Captain."

"Don't worry, I- Captain?!" Jak sputtered.

There was just a hint of mischief in Damas’s eyes as he gestured to the armband now covering Jak's bicep. "I am giving you the same authority to recruit citizens that I gave Sig. Use it wisely."

Scurrying up out of the water, Daxter rejoined Jak and smacked his leg repeatedly. He knew exactly who he was recruiting.

And who they weren't recruiting.

Jak stood straighter, stiffer, and Daxter felt him trembling just barely under his paw.

A captain? Him? No one listened to him, he was a glorified servant! What was Damas thinking, giving someone like him authority?

Don't screw this up, Jak. Don't screw this up, whatever you do.

He took a shaky breath. "I- I don't um. I don't know how to- to lead, or if anyone would listen to me but-" DON'T SCREW THIS UP!

"I'll-"

The words caught in his throat, then escaped past his teeth.

"I'll do my best to make you proud."

Damas grinned fiercely at him.

"You already do."

[venus-haze]

Writer Tag

Thank you so much for tagging me @frstcorinthians🖤

Just a "proceed with caution" on the fics I've linked on this list. Plenty of detailed warnings!

How many works do you have on AO3? 42

What's your total AO3 word count? 178k

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

3 out of 5 are Homelander fics🤭

My Destruction Is an Hour Late (my first Homelander fic🥲)

She's Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Bruised Fruit (Michael Corleone x OC, an honor that it’s even on this list)

Got No Reason To Run (Homelander x Reader)

Baby Let's Play House (Homelander x Reader)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always! I appreciate every single one so much!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Definitely Sinnerman, I need to write more for Midnight Mass. There's so much potential there.

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I think Eat Your Heart Out...

Do you write crossovers? No, I haven't.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? No, which is shocking considering what I write about.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? The kind that usually requires a lot of trigger warnings.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, I couldn't with my schedule.

What's your all-time favorite ship? I absolutely love the way Minxie @cherubgore writes Vincent/Paige! Rarepair forever🖤

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? None I can think of. I mostly write standalone fics, and I know I'm gonna finish Bruised Fruit at some point. Usually my WIPs change over time so they might not look the same as when I started, but they end up getting posted eventually.

What are your writing strengths? I don't know…I've been told I'm good at bringing the reader into a fic, so I guess building settings and scenes, which makes sense considering I write mostly readerfics and the immersion aspect is the backbone of that.

What are your writing weaknesses? My writing is more straightforward and doesn't use a lot of poetic style, which is something I wish I were better at. I don't think I write individual sentences that "wow" a reader, you know?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I do not trust Google Translate and will not walk around with egg on my face. I just use italics to indicate speaking in another language, on the off occasion that's included in my fics. Or like with Bruised Fruit, Gloria doesn't speak Italian, so part of portraying that involves her asking people what they said and hoping they're telling the truth or trying to figure out based on her interpretation of their tone and body language.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? The Outsiders! I was so upset about the ending that I wrote many fics on Quizilla where Johnny and Dally lived.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? I'd like to write something for Justified, but I need to rewatch again.

What's your favorite fic you've written? That's so tough...maybe Howl.

No pressure tags: @cherubgore @zaras-really-dreamless @shoshiwrites @blurredcolour @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @flaggermuser @zepskies (please make a new post, don't reblog)

[roseshewrites]

Yet another Sunday gone by with not a single word written in Neon 🥺 I will finish this story. By the grace of the gods lmao!

Meanwhile, since I,haven't updated on this blog in two weeks, have another random snippet of Alastor and his mother from The Devil's Forked Path:

~

In the early hours right before sunrise Alastor's mother woke him and ushered him outdoors. There was the tire swing. There was the mound nearby where Alastor's father had buried the bird, that clearing of earth free from grass where Alastor had spent countless hours scuffing his feet; grass was growing back. 

"Mama," he said. "What are we doing?" 

That early morning sweetness clung to everything; that humidity that didn't suffocate yet, that aura of blue previous to dawn that whispered with bugs in trees and the scuffing of nearby wildlife. 

They knelt in the dirt near that tire swing and she beckoned him close. Near to her again, he was able to see how her eyes gleamed with unfallen tears as she reached to a pack at her side and took out some items. 

"A lesson for you this morning," she whispered. "A lesson about Gede. About Mother Mary, and Gedeon in tandem, because they watch over us both at once. Take this," she handed Alastor a stick. 

"Draw in the dirt. A crossroads." 

Still sleepy, Alastor sat with his bare feet digging into the earth beneath him and did as she asked. When the crossroads was complete, she placed a little white candle in the center and lit it reverently, giving Alastor a cigarillo to offer to the god, and placed her own offering there next to the candle of a small glass which contained rum. 

Gede. 

An invisible guardian, an enigma of chaotic energy who smiles with unhinged grace and protects with the same zeal. A figure, his mother once told him, who appears physically as a well dressed man in a suit and a top hat, carrying a scythe. 

"Greet him with respect," his mother reminded him gently. 

"Bonjou, Gede," he murmured. 

"Bonjou," he mother echoed, laughing a little. 

He cast her a look of nervousness and she said, "Oh Al, our Gedeon has a sense of humor. There are no wrong prayers with him. You should ask him for protection." 

If Alastor shut his eyes he could nearly vividly imagine it, this spirit with a boisterous laugh and and a wildness who would scoop you in long arms or cut you down with his scythe just as eagerly any way; that perhaps Gede's laughter fell onto the wind and cut like a weapon and made the candle flicker oh so slightly in the humid air while Alastor's mother was muttering her own prayer in her native language. 

Alastor's prayer was silent. It was in his heart, in his mind; it filled his blood with a simmering of longing that he could not comprehend. He longed for that wildness for himself. He longed for that ease of laughter, and imagined that if the god would speak with him, it would be with a suave carefree grace, that Gede's heart and soul was like a drum beat of dance and song and language. 

Perhaps Gedeon liked jazz music.

Alastor thought that might be so. 

"Mwen Cheri. Listen to me. Listen to the songs in mass today. And if they get too much, listen for the protection of our Gedeon. Remember to hail Mary with respect today. Please? Honor your father today. Do as you're told. Endure it with grace. Because mother Mary watches just as Gede."

Don't stumble, Alastor, he thought, don't fall to your stuttering and forget the ritual of it. 

But he'd much prefer, instead of keeping a straight back, feeling restrained in this church mass full of incense and guilt, to dig his toes into the earth and run his hands over the rough bark in the trees and forget the whisperings of Mary, the Saints, and Christ. He'd not enjoy that tang of sour wine which represented blood. 

The body of Christ. 

The laughter of Gede. 

The protection of Mary, full of grace. 

"I understand mama. Don't cry." 

By the time he had gone back to bed, and morning sun had lit the tops of the trees outside with a magical orange light, his lesson about Gede had seemed like a strange dream. 

[snowcoffeee]

Thank you for the tag @rhodophoria!! :D This was fun!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Just one (but there will be more soon ;))

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

127,025! I think Ashen Wishes is the longest story I've ever written (and it's still going, holy-)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Undertale. In fact, I haven't written for anything else in years ^^' I need to have a lot of passion for a fandom to get myself to write. Unless the characters live 24/7 in my mind rent-free, no ideas will pop up.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Yes.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yeah, I love to! I really appreciate when someone takes their time to leave a nice message :] I always try to reply as soon as possible, or at least within a day.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I currently have a few one-shot ideas that have rather angsty endings, but I couldn't bear writing a whole longfic that ends on a sad note. ...I think.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ashen Wishes will have a pretty happy, positive ending, so I suppose that counts (?)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, I never have :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Well... not really. I've given it a shot a few times and I have a couple ideas, but I don't think I can bring myself to post anything too explicit at the moment.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've never written one! I've always found them too difficult to execute well.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so...? Though I never looked for it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I wonder what that would look like! Although when it comes to writing fics, I'm much more comfortable writing in English than my native language.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, but it sounds fun. I have friends who help with brainstorming sometimes, if that counts :)

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I've never been into shipping characters that much. Sometimes I come across a ship and I genuinely like it, but then I move on. My reader-insert craze just never left me enough, I guess.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I strive to finish everything I start, even though it might, uh, take a little more time. I really hope I won't ever abandon my fics.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogues? Maybe? Those are usually the first things that pop up in my head when I'm trying to figure out a scene, and I build everything else around them. But I'm also really obsessed with pacing and trying to find a healthy balance between the events in a story. I'm not saying it's necessarily working, I just tend to pay more attention to it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm very, very slow. I can linger on a single sentence for ten minutes because I can't get over how awkward a sentence feels, so I just stare at the screen trying to figure out how to fix it. Also, describing environments. I can't make them sound fun for the life of me. I feel like they always end up being very dry and unimaginative :/

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't run into them often, but I think they can spice up a dialogue sometimes. I especially like special short phrases that give the conversation a deeper meaning.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oof, uh, Hollow Knight, if I remember correctly. I don't plan to post any of my older works though ^^'

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Ashen Wishes is probably the fic I've put the most effort in so far, and it's currently my favorite, too!

@imtrashraccoon if you'd like to join, but as always, no pressure! :D

[evilpenguinrika]

How about 4 and 73?

Ask Game For Fanfic Writers

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?

OHHHH BOYYYYYYYYYY. I actually have a few I believe. But I'll share a few since this would end up getting way too long lol (plus I would have to comb through my backlog to remember):

I have two plus one rewrite ideas for Ikarishipping. The rewrite is basically just a whole rewrite (for the second time in my life) of my biggest at-the-time on-going fic Bluebells and Lavenders/re: Bluebells and Lavenders that I posted way back on ffnet. The reason being that when I first wrote BbaL I was like, 13-15 and got a really nasty flame comment (I am showing my age with this lol) about my grammar and writing syntax, plot, etc and like, at the time despite English being my first language, I just could not understand grammar or the basics of the English language (look, words are hard okay 😥).

So I decided from that flame comment I was going to rewrite that fic and I did when I was 16-17. But since then my writing and style have changed and I would like to rewrite it and post it on ao3. I think I haven't gotten around to it is because it's just... A lot to do. And a lot to plan. When I rewrote BbaL and wrote re:BbaL I had meticulous notes that I have no idea where they are now.

The other two Ikari fics I want to write, one is insp by Marianas Trench song "Haven't Had Enough" which I also originally wanted to do a Cosplay Music Video back when I was 15-16 because why not lol. Plus CMVs were really popular back in my day (OH GOD I USED THAT PHRASE). I'm not sure if it's still popular now? It would be, also a Modern AU/College AU I think? I haven't really thought that ahead other than "slow burn rivals to friends to lovers" LOL

And the second idea is just inspired by the song "SUPERMODEL" by Maneskin. I'm not sure what the root idea would be other than maybe Paul and Dawn are both huge top models...? Yeah, I hadn't really gotten too far with this idea haha.

Another plot bunny I had on hold is a Hosie one actually! Actually I have a lot but I'll share two:

One is a Modern AU and it's actually inspired by my time working on student films. Except this idea is more Josie has a webseries and brought in friends from her film school days to help her out and Hope is the cinematographer. I started writing it actually, around the same time I was working on my own webseries. But since my webseries project went caput, I haven't found motivation to keep writing this fic.

The second is a Life is Strange 1 AU where Josie is Max Caulfield and Hope is Chloe Price. I wanted it to also be like a "choose your own adventure" type fic as well where at the end of certain chapters with BIG decisions, you would then pick your choice between 2 options and skip to whatever chapter your choice would be in. I think the reason I haven't done this is cuz it's also pretty hefty to write, and also doing a "choose your own adventure" is gonna require lots of meticulous planning that I don't have the spoons for.

73. how do you visualize scenes? do you see it like a movie in your head, or do the words just flow?

Definitely like a movie in my head!! It helps me more when I picture the scenes I want to write in my head and then I just figure out the words from there.

It's especially helpful when I write fight scenes! I watch a lot of anime and other action-based shows (recently binge watched Cobra Kai and watched some clips from The Magicians since I miss that show a lot), so when I write fight scenes in my stories (mainly You're The One Born To Save Hosie series), I just visualize the fights/actions like an anime. I mean, I already mucked up the magic lore in the TVDUniverse so I might as well keep going with the artistic liberties and flair with it haha. Plus, it's really fun writing these anime-esque action fight scenes :3

.

thanks for the ask!!

[multiverse--wanderer]

Unshaken Outlaws | Arthur Morgan x John Marston [ENG]

[ Fan-Fiction based on the OTP between Arthur Morgan and John Marston from Red Dead Redemption ] In a world where the last cowboys are ruthlessly hunted, survival is the only rule. Loyalty, fragile yet vital, is the thread that binds the outlaws together, their sole hope in a landscape marked by betrayal and constant danger. Amidst war and a passion that defies the rules, Arthur and John will find an unexpected path to redemption as their world crumbles around them. For Dutch's gang, the fight for survival has never been easy, but it becomes even more complicated when a forbidden love blossoms amid fallen bullets, lies, and deep wounds. Can this love become the sanctuary they need to withstand the coming chaos, or will it be the end of everything they know?

...

REMINDER:

This story has been written in Spanish, which is my native language. This story has been translated to the best of my ability, although it is possible that it may have mistakes.

This is just a way to transport my writing to a common language for the rest of fans like me. For a better immersion, I recommend reading the story in its original version.

You can find this story on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own.

Thank you so much for reading me and see you in the stars.

...

Chapter 3: The Cold Spring

Present

"We've been running for weeks. We've taken refuge and are resting here, in an abandoned old mining town, while we wait for the snow to melt... Spring isn't going as I expected. There are no more sunsets filled with promises, where joy slipped away between passionate kisses. Now, all that's left is cold and despair, though the feeling still burns beneath layers of snow and condensed ice.

Remembering hurts.

I bought this new journal after the previous one burned in the fire a few months ago (I can't remember when exactly). I haven't written or drawn much in the past few weeks, but I've missed it more than I expected, so when I was near a store, I thought, "What if I buy another one?" After the fire and everything that happened up north, we spent a few months living in the wild, traveling from the Grizzlies to the worst part of winter, trapped in the western mountains. Food was easy to find, and we were living well. Dutch was interested in buying some land he'd heard about, but it didn't fit his preferences, or maybe he was afraid the authorities were watching us and someone knew who he was. So, we never bought it and kept wandering here and there. In the Grizzlies, we recruited two more members: Jenny, a lovely young woman we found alone by the side of the road, and Micah, an outlaw Dutch met in a nearby saloon. It seems Dutch is fascinated by Micah because he's impulsive, combative, and arrogant. Hosea and I aren't too fond of him. We'll see what happens.

Eventually, we managed to leave the wilderness and took refuge outside Blackwater, although sometimes I stayed in the city looking for ways to make money.

In Blackwater, I may have discovered something interesting. We had plenty of money, and the path we took was so winding and slow that no one could follow us southeast or figure out where we were headed. We thought about going to California, but Dutch and Hosea ended up taking us to Blackwater. It seemed like Blackwater had grown a lot since the last time they were there; they told me it was mostly a trading post. But it developed so quickly that it's practically a small city now. Corruption seems to run rampant, and it's clear that money is abundant there. I slept in a bed there, which is a pleasure once in a while after living so long in a tent, but I've never liked the idea of being so close to a city.

We lived there, and most of the time we camped outside the city, trying to stay unnoticed. Life there was uncomplicated. Abigail and Marston never stopped (and never will) arguing. I wonder why she came back. It seems she can't decide if she wants to act like a mother to her son or not. Their arguments exhaust me...

Hosea and I had a plan while we were there, something important we'd made a lot of money from, stemming from a real estate scam Hosea thought he'd uncovered. It was the perfect crime: robbing some criminals, and we were very careful. It's always fun working with Hosea because he comes up with the wildest ideas... Even if we end up with nothing, we have a great time. Hosea is a born talker, though back then, he was worried about us drawing too much attention in the city for too long. Dutch also thought he'd uncovered something important: a ship carrying money from the banks. Micah and Dutch planned to rob the ferry in the city, believing it was full of riches since it was carrying money meant for the banks. I didn't participate in the heist. Hosea and I were too busy with our own matters, and Dutch always seems to trust that if the group stays united, everything will be fine.

Their plan was to carry out the heist and then flee to the western plains. The next day, Hosea and I would pull off our scam and meet up with them. Things got pretty complicated.

Now we've been running for weeks. The ferry heist they pulled off in Blackwater turned into a disaster. They killed young Jenny, poor thing, and no one is sure if Sean and Mac are dead or were captured. Dutch shot a girl, not sure if by accident or on purpose, and it's possible we were set up. We fled in a panic through the hills, leaving almost all our belongings behind. Then, while running east through the Grizzlies, we were caught by a storm. Davey Collander, who had been shot in the stomach during the raid, passed away. Watching him die was overwhelming, and the rest of us nearly froze, but we found shelter and are resting here, in an old abandoned mining town, waiting for the snow to melt.

Spring isn't going as I expected. Hosea and I had planned a heist of our own in Blackwater, but I think that's in the past, like most of my previous belongings. I'm deeply worried about what will happen once we leave this place or if the authorities find us hiding here.

I've found a girl; well, a woman, actually. Her husband was killed by some of Colm O'Driscoll's men. Something horrible. Her name is Sadie Adler."

Arthur's pen came to a stop as he closed the journal that cold morning, his numb fingers barely able to trace the final line. Outside, the storm continued to roar like a wounded beast, and inside the cabin, the air felt so cold that the men's breath formed small clouds in front of their faces. The wooden planks, worn by the moisture, allowed the cold to pass through like invisible blades that pierced to the bone. It was a modest cabin, barely an improvised refuge for desperate times, shared by Arthur, Hosea, and Dutch, each of them struggling with their own demons while trying to escape the ghosts that haunted them.

Arthur rose from the chair in his small room, the creaking of his boots on the wooden floor echoing in the silence. He walked down the hallway to the central fireplace, where the fire fought to stay alive, flickering in shades of orange and gold. In front of the flames, Dutch and Hosea sat, their figures cloaked in shadows and a palpable air of tension that seemed more tangible than the cold itself. The arguments between them were as common as they were inevitable, especially in moments like this, when decisions weighed heavier than ever and uncertainty gnawed at everyone's spirit.

—When the storm lets up, we'll leave. —Dutch said, in the tone of someone trying to convince even himself—. But for now, we're fine here. We're not too cold.

He extended his hands toward the fire, letting out a soft groan as he felt the warmth on his sore fingers. Arthur leaned against the stones of the fireplace, observing the contrast between the two men. Hosea, with his sharp, calm gaze, seemed to be analyzing every word Dutch said with a mixture of skepticism and patience. Finally, he responded with a simple:

—I suppose.

That one word, laden with resignation, seemed to trigger something in Dutch. He lifted his gaze to Hosea, noticing the fleeting expression on his face that sought something in Arthur—perhaps confirmation of his own doubts. Arthur, caught between the two like a pawn in a chess game, lowered his eyes, trying to avoid becoming the target of the tension that was about to erupt.

—It seems you have doubts. —Dutch accused, his voice sharp as a dagger.

The air in the cabin grew colder than the weather outside, and Arthur tucked his head into the collar of his coat, seeking to protect himself from something more than just the freezing wind.

—I don't have doubts, I'm just concerned. —Hosea replied calmly, though his tone didn't soften.

The eyes of both men locked in a silent duel, a battle that Hosea won when Dutch, with a sigh of frustration, shifted his gaze to Arthur. Arthur felt the weight of the expectations fall on him as Dutch spoke:

—What do you think, Arthur?

Arthur swallowed, knowing that any words he spoke could tip the balance. He kept his tone firm, though his hands clenched into fists inside his pockets.

—Well, I wasn't on that boat, so it's hard to say. But I trust your judgment, Dutch. I always have.

Arthur's words seemed to temporarily calm Dutch's inner turmoil. He nodded slowly, massaging his cracked hands while his gaze once again drifted into the fire.

—Thanks, son. —He said, his voice softer, almost paternal, before turning toward Hosea with a hardened expression—. We've been through this before. I don't think this is anything new.

—I hope not. —Hosea replied, not conceding an inch.

—We've had some bad luck, but the storm has covered our tracks, so we wait a little longer, go back to Blackwater, and grab the money, or get more money and keep heading west.

The conversation continued like a game of chess, each word measured, every gesture laden with meaning. Dutch, always the dreamer, the strategist, spoke with the confidence of a man accustomed to leading, while Hosea, more pragmatic, tried to anchor him to reality.

—But we're heading east.

—For now... for now. Everything's fine, Hosea. We're safe. Stay strong.

Dutch rose from his chair with a heavy sigh, his movements reflecting the exhaustion of days filled with uncertainty and tension. The wood creaked under his weight, a sound that resonated through the cabin like a somber echo, almost as much as the words he had just spoken. His gaze turned to Arthur, still leaning against the fireplace. Dutch's dark, hard, determined eyes studied him as if they wanted to pierce through the layers of his coat and reach his soul. Arthur, unlike Hosea, hesitated before meeting his gaze. There was something in Dutch, a mix of authority and distrust, that made it harder to face him in moments like these.

—What do you say, Arthur? —Dutch asked, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible challenge—. Do you doubt me too?

—Never.

Arthur's response came before Dutch could finish his sentence, quick, almost desperate to dispel any hint of suspicion. His tone was calm but firm, as if he were willing to cling to those words with all his might. Dutch let out a sigh, one that carried a mixture of relief and pride.

—Good, because you know me, boy... This is just the beginning. Once we get some money, well... They'd better send competent men after us, because they'll never find us... But we need money.

Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes briefly drifting toward Hosea, who sat silently behind Dutch. Though Hosea said nothing, his expression spoke volumes. A slight nod, almost imperceptible, seemed to shout the doubts Arthur couldn't voice aloud. Dutch, however, didn't notice that small betrayal of silence, or perhaps chose to ignore it. Instead, he leaned toward Arthur and gave him a couple of heavy pats on the shoulder, his gesture paternal and weighty.

—Thanks for your strength, boy. It means a lot to me.

Arthur didn't respond. He felt the weight of Dutch's words like an anchor that added to the already unbearable burden of loyalty he had always shown him. Dutch turned toward the cabin door, his steps resonating with determination as he grabbed his weapons and adjusted them to his belt. He didn't spare a single glance toward Hosea, who remained seated by the fire with an expression that fluctuated between weariness and reproach.

—And the money's well hidden in Blackwater? —Arthur asked, raising his voice slightly when he saw that Dutch was about to leave.

Dutch stopped with his hand on the door handle. He turned just slightly, letting his eyes rest on Arthur for a prolonged moment, as if evaluating the sincerity behind the question.

—I think so —he finally replied—. They don't even know we tossed it.

—Well, then it can wait.

Dutch nodded with a slight grunt, opened the door, and stepped outside. The snow-laden wind rushed into the cabin with a chilling force, bringing a blast of ice that made the candles flicker and snuffed out part of the fire. The snow that had accumulated on the doorway's planks slid inside, forming a cold, damp puddle that seemed to claim the space Dutch had left behind. When the door slammed shut behind him, the silence settled again, though now it felt heavier, more uncomfortable.

Hosea let out a deep sigh, so heavy it seemed to take part of his energy with it. He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back in the chair as if he needed to reorganize his thoughts. Arthur, who had been watching everything in silence, moved closer to him, stepping carefully, as if he feared disturbing the delicate balance left in the room.

—How are you, Hosea? —Arthur asked in a low tone, almost a whisper—. You were coughing all night.

Arthur placed a hand on Hosea's back, a gesture full of care and familiarity. To Arthur, Hosea was more than just a companion on the road; he was a father figure, a counselor, someone he could always trust.

—It's the cold —Hosea replied, downplaying the matter with a wave of his hand—. Thanks for bringing John back.

Those words carried a different weight, a gratitude that went beyond mere courtesy. It was a sign of trust, of respect.

—Of course.

Arthur rolled his eyes slightly, sensing in Hosea's gaze something more than gratitude. There was a spark of understanding in his eyes, as if he knew what the young man was feeling, like a mother who knows her child's secrets without needing them spoken aloud.

Suddenly, Arthur noticed a figure in the doorway. Molly, with her red curls and green eyes, was watching from the shadows, her arms crossed in front of her chest. There was something in her posture that seemed to ask permission to come closer, but also something that held her back, as if she knew that the warmth of the fire wouldn't be enough to melt the coldness that hung in the air.

—Are you okay, Molly? —Arthur asked, turning toward her with a gentle tone—. It's warmer by the fire.

—No, I'm fine, thanks. —Molly murmured, her accent wrapping around her words.

But her eyes told a different story. Tired, disappointed, Molly preferred the solitude of a cold room to facing the tension still hanging in the air by the fire. Arthur nodded, understanding without insisting. Finally, he decided it was time to leave.

On the porch, he found Dutch, the cigarette lit between his fingers, the smoke rising in spirals that were lost in the snowstorm. Arthur leaned on the railing, his hands leaving warm prints in the accumulated snow. The silence between them was more eloquent than any words.

—Thanks, Arthur. Thanks for bringing John back. Finally, a little peace.

Arthur held back the sigh that threatened to escape from his chest. He knew that any gesture, any misplaced word, could betray him under Dutch's inquisitive gaze.

—The wolves gave him a good beating, but he'll be fine —he replied finally. And in a barely audible murmur, he added—: I hope.

Dutch smiled faintly, his expression reflecting a mix of confidence and exhaustion.

—He's been awake for a few hours. You might want to visit him.

—I think he'll be fine. He's got good company, and I've got things to do.

Arthur didn't look at him as he descended the stairs into the snowy expanse before them. However, both knew he would go. He would always go for him.

...

CONTINUE READING THE FULL CHAPTER HERE:

Chapter also available in ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61174720/chapters/158540431

[autumnslance]

I have a question about carrying out an idea. I think this writing issue I've been having has been plaguing me longer than my time on Mateus; I’ve always struggled to get past chapter one or even stick to an idea, even when I started writing years ago. Are there any pointers on carrying an idea or story through?

That's a hard one, as I know I have plenty of plans and WIPs I haven't gotten past those stages myself.

So I ask myself what's the core of the idea, the heart of it? What is it I really want to say? I don't tend to write chronologically myself; I write lines, descriptions, bits of dialogue, scenes, and chapters entirely out of order. I know where they "go" in the overall arc. And sometimes, like with the Avengret storyline, I can then string them together, shuffling the order, writing new bridging scenes, removing or combining others as needed.

If I am trying to write in order, even then if a section is hard, or boring, or not working--skip it. Put in some brackets with [AND THEN X AND Y HAPPENS AND IT'S NOW THE NEXT DAY]. Move on to the next part that excites you, or that you at least know what happens. You can always double back later and add in that connecting scene...or even decide it isn't needed now, you've covered everything it would have elsewhere, and can just be summarized and moved on from.

I've recently been reading a "How To Write" series of books by James Scott Bell; there are several, but they're all pretty short. One of the pieces of advice he gives is to start in the middle (go to the midpoint of just about any novel or film, and it's somewhere very near that 50% mark in one direction or another). Find the "mirror moment" a point--sometimes a page or paragraph, sometimes just a single line--that is a frank look at the situation, self, etc on the part of the main character. What do they see? It's a moment of reflective truth. Who is the character in this midpoint? How did they get here? Who do they need to be/what must they do to get to the end? How do they realize they may fail? What forces are against them? Do they realize/acknowledge any of this?

These are recommendations more for novels than short stories, but heavens know how long some of our fics go, and short stories do still have similar, if truncated, structures and beats.

Anyway, you're not beholden to write from beginning to end. You may not know everything about your story yet--because you haven't written it yet, and these things change form, even for plotters with outlines. Write scenes. Write chapters. Write microfics that are just a couple lines of dialogue. Use prompt lists and challenges, if you gotta. Start small and build, as one of the old philosophers said.

(and eventually one day you look and realize you've written a few hundred thousand words, many of them about your OC and a Damn Rogue wending through their world...)

Writing works like exercise; you have to practice it, figure out what works for you, at what times of day, and it can be a struggle to keep up momentum. In the meanwhile, you also have to take other care of yourself.

Like actual exercise (whatever you're able to do; at least stretches, which is where I'm at some days). Remembering to eat and stay hydrated, get plenty of sleep (don't @ me, I sleep, just on a later schedule), and also do remember to intake other creative works; I got a rush of inspiration last year and spent months feverishly writing scenes and plotting and writing dialogues and making timeline outlines and writing more pages I'll never use after reading a popular novel, cuz the visceral language and a vaguely similar character dynamic in certain specific ways clicked something on in my brain. We gotta feed that persnickety little muse.

And on the days the muse is being recalcitrant...we write anyway. It's hard, it feels like it sucks, but if we want to get something done? Write something. Anything. Stream of consciousness if you gotta; complain, talk out your ideas, maybe write a little from that. And the next day look at it and realize it's not so bad as you thought and a little polish will fix it.

So don't try to be perfect first round; writing is messy. Revision and editing is where we make it look pretty (you usually don't have to rewrite entirely front to back, either; some folks like to, but for many others that's only if there's serious structure issues; mileage varies per project, too, as they're all different).

So write the scenes out of order, as they come. See what ideas stick and what are just idle thoughts. Maybe they're all true and there's multiverses and AUs there. See what starts t string together into coherence. Don't be afraid to revise, rewrite, even retcon if something better comes along months later after you already posted something.

The only way to know the story is to write it, figuring out how it wants to be written, and sometimes that means writing it from other angles and around the back way until it tells us how it got to that point (and whether what we thought was the start actually was or not).

Anyway. This got long, hopefully there's some tiny tidbit that helps!

[word-wytch]

✏ 20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thank you for the tags @the-unforgivenn and @wroteclassicaly 💋✨

1) How many works do you have on AO3? - 5

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? - Roughly 120k at a glance

3) What fandoms do you write for? - Stranger Things, but truly just Eddie Munson

4) What are your top five fics by kudos? - I only have 5 🥴

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? - I do try to respond to as many as I can, especially the very thoughtful ones. It all depends on the amount of spoons I have at the time. Engaging with my readers is really important to me. It makes me feel like we are embarking on an adventure together and the community aspect of writing fanfiction incredibly rewarding. I've made so many friends. 🥹

6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? - I don't tend to write angsty endings. There is enough angst in the rest of it, trust me.

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? - Probably Entre Nous, because that was my only other series. My current series is not finished but it will definitely end happily.

8) Do you get hate on fics? - Surprisingly no. And I say surprisingly because the trope in the main series I've been writing is pretty taboo. Only one comment truly stands out to me as hate and it was regarding my use of figurative language lmao.

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kinds? - My smut tends to be pretty vanilla but the tones are very different depending on what the scene is truly about.

10) Do you write crossovers? Not yet!

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? - Thankfully no, or at least not that I'm aware of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? - No

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? - No

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? - Eddie Munson and all of us

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? - I have a few unfinished WIPs and many ideas, but I haven't closed any doors yet. The one I would like to finish most of all is my Ren Faire Eddie oneshot.

16) What are your writing strengths? - Dialogue, characterization, immersive descriptions, cadence, figurative language, insight, motifs, showing vs telling, story structure.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? - My creative (lol) use of punctuation, understanding where to end a paragraph and start a new one, filter words like "he looked at ___", describing moments that involve a lot of action in interesting ways rather than a just laundry list of "he did this, he did that" which I have actually made tremendous improvements upon. I find it helpful to ask myself "how was it?" rather than just "then what did he do?"

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? - I'm confused by this question. My impulse would be to say write in whatever language you want but does this mean like, the body of the work is in English and some dialogue is in French for example? Confused.

19) First fandom you wrote for? - House MD when I was like 13

20) Favorite fic you’ve written? - My infant child that turns one year old tomorrow: Don't Stand So Close to Me

No pressure tags ✨ @rip-quizilla @munson-blurbs @vintagehellfire @jo-harrington @carolmunson @blueywrites @alottanothing @chaoticgood-munson @corroded-hellfire @hellfirehottie420 @deathbecomesthem @bettyfrommars @storiesbyrhi @keeponquinning

[reidsaurora]

"Part Thirteen: I Have To" ~ S. Reid

Summary: Spencer shows up at Imogen's door, one thing on his mind: how he has to love her. No matter her response.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Imogen Sterren (bipolar!OC)

Word Count: 2,357

Content Warning: explicit language, small mention of church (is that a warning? idk but) small mentions of Spencer's drug addiction, tiny mention of puke, this whole chapter is mostly Spencer having a panic attack, mentions of bipolar episodes, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: Angst to Fluff, i'd say

Extra Notes: i… i may have almost cried while writing this 😀

Based On the Song: Soon You'll Get Better by Taylor Swift

Originally Written: 02/07/2023 (re-edited 03/05/2023)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

"Soon You'll Get Better" series masterlist can be found here!

"𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭? 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬?" - 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐜𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬

It was nearing sunset and Spencer still hadn't found the courage to knock on Imogen's door.

Every time he even thought about stepping onto the yellow-accented front porch, knocking on the robin's egg colored door, coming face to face with brown waves and the shade of green he often found himself missing, he panicked. His hands would quiver, his airway would tighten, and his mind would start to feel so enclosed that he felt like a tiger trapped in a cage at a zoo.

After a while, he started using anything he could as a distraction, taking a particular interest in his surroundings. Sure, it was nice to smell the fresh air after being stuffed in a police precinct for two days, and the sky was a beautiful array of oranges and pinks, but Spencer knew deep down he was just doing what he always did when it came to confrontation: stalling.

It was nearing six o'clock and yet, there he sat—fiddling with the fastenings of his cardigan, taking as deep of breaths as he could manage, and only occasionally looking up to see if somehow Imogen was watching him from the doorway or the window.

At some point, he found his thumb hovering over Penelope's number in his list of emergency contacts. He glanced at the clock in the upper right corner of the screen, realizing that another fifteen minutes had already passed since the last time he checked it.

He let out a deep breath, whispered a quick, "Fuck it," and hit the call button, finding the tiniest bit of solitude in the buzzing sound that rang in his ear.

After three rings, Penelope answered, her voice as gentle as a mother holding her newborn baby. "You haven't talked to her yet, have you?" she asked, a slight tone of disappointment coating her voice.

He shook his head as if she could see him before answering, "I don't know if I can, Penelope. What if I set off another episode? What if seeing me triggers her and I undo all that progress she's made? What if-"

"Oh, boy wonder," she interrupted, her tone staying even but nurturing, "you and all your 'what ifs'."

She wished she could place a comforting hand on his shoulder while simultaneously wishing she could just slap him and say, "Can't you see?"

But Penelope, being ever the peacekeeper, simply said, "I know only a sith deals in absolutes, but who cares what Obi-Wan thinks anyway? Anakin was hotter, both figuratively and literally."

Her rambling elicited a chuckle from Spencer, and the mere sound of it made Penelope smile. She basked in it for a moment, taking in that sweet sound she hadn't heard in at least a week.

After a beat, she spoke up once again. "You shouldn't waste your life away worrying about all the what ifs. There are literally so many other things—more important things—to think about it. Like the fact that you have the ability to give Imogen the best life she could ever ask for. You can be the one to help her any time she has an episode, whether it be a manic high or a depressive down. Spencer Reid, you could be the one who helps her gain custody of August again. You can help her get better."

Spencer let out a deep breath, his fingers flying up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He sat there stiffly, knowing she was right, but also believing he didn't have the strength to do it.

Spencer could also be the one to fuck up her life. Spencer could also be the one to cause a manic high or a depressive down. Spencer could also be the one to make her worse off again.

Penelope spoke up again, her voice stern yet sincere when she said, "But you are not going to accomplish a damn thing sitting on that bench and staring at her front door."

Spencer's expression change to one of confusion as he started to ask, "How did you-"

"Turn around."

He turned, and not ten feet away, there she stood—go-bag in hand, wearing an orange dress and sporting off her new red hair color that the sunset behind her only complemented, tears welling in those blue eyes that hid behind cerulean glasses.

"What are you doing here?" he managed to ask, stepping toward her with open arms.

She wrapped her arms around his sweater-vest-covered midsection, basking in his embrace. Neither Spencer nor Penelope would ever admit it to their therapists, but they were becoming quite codependent on each other.

After a moment, she pulled away and placed both her hands on either side of his face. "Spencer, I love you. You are quite possibly my favorite person ever, besides the perfect hunk of chocolate that is named Derek Morgan. So please know that I say this out of love."

He looked down at her, cracking a half-smile and finding peace in the fact that she was there. The one absolute Spencer had in life was there, standing in front of him, and doing the one thing he asked of her: being Penelope.

"Do not be an idiot. I know you think that's something impossible for you to do since you have that two thousand IQ score and all those PhDs, but if you walk away from here without at least telling her you still love her, you will officially win the Guinness World Record for biggest idiot."

He pulled her back in for another hug, leaving a soft peck on her hairline. "Where would I be if I didn't have you to keep me in check?" he chuckled, his chin settling atop her scalp.

"I love you, and this moment has been super sweet and all, but I need you to stop using me as a distraction and go get your girl," she mumbled into the fabric of his sweater.

And so, he gave her one last peck on the head before stepping away, sliding his shaking hands into the pockets of his slacks. But, before he could make it to Imogen's door, he stopped. "Hey, you didn't tell me why you came."

"I needed to be here for you," she answered, as if it were a given, as if it didn't need explaining. "I needed to drive you home and comfort you if it went badly, but I also needed to be here if it went well and we needed to go out for drinks and celebrate. Plus, you know I couldn't possibly pass up on a chance to join in on one of Emily Prentiss's sin-to-win weekends."

He chuckled, a sound Penelope just couldn't get enough of on that breezy October night, and stepped up to the wooden door that blocked him from winning back the love of his life.

He slid his hand out of his pocket before tapping on the door, unsure if he'd even hit the door loud enough for someone to hear him.

But, after about ten seconds, the shuffling of slippers could be heard on the other side of the door, and just the mere sound had Spencer on the verge of passing out.

The door opened agonizingly slow, but what hid behind was well worth the wait.

Light brown hair that used to dangle near her mid-back had been darkened to a chocolate brown and sat just under her chin. Bennington pajamas had been replaced with lounge clothes that Imogen picked out, not anyone else. And tired, misty eyes had been replaced with youthful eyes, accompanied by a sweet yet confident smile.

Imogen eyed Spencer up and down, her grin only growing as she realized he too had had a confidence makeover since their parting. Short hair had been replaced with shoulder-length curls, he'd abandoned his silly, plaid-print ties and replaced it with his new favorite brown sweater vest, and his closed-in shoulders had been replaced with assured, broad shoulders, his posture signaling that he looked much more confident than he felt at that particular moment.

"Hey, you," she sighed. A content sigh. A sigh that signaled she would be content staying just like this for the rest of her life if it meant Spencer was there and real, not a ghost visiting her dreams. "What are you doing here?"

All confidence and assurance left his body when his hands started to shake and his eyes darted down to his worn-out Converse. He racked his brain for a response, as if he didn't know the exact reason why he'd showed up at her house on a not-so-random Friday in October.

He exhaled hard before forcing himself to look back up at her. "Can I come in?" he forced himself to ask.

She gave him a closed-lip smile before moving away from the door. "Of course."

He found himself mesmerized by how she decorated a space that was hers. No one else's, Imogen's. From the pink throw pillows on the couch to the cross-stitched photo of a tulip bouquet hanging on the wall, it was clear that she'd made this place her own in the nearly three years she'd been living here.

Spencer was tempted to see if the gray, cloth couch felt as comfy as it looked, but resisted, forcing himself to speak the words that had been sitting on his mind since he arrived earlier in the day.

"Imogen," he started, his chest suddenly feeling constricted by the button-up sitting beneath his sweater, "there are so many things I need to tell you. I need to tell you how you've only grown more beautiful with each day that has passed. I need to tell you that I am so proud of you for taking the steps to get yourself better. But none of that matters until I say this."

He swallowed back every tear that had been threatening to fall that day before continuing, "I know you said that we needed to be away from each other. But I can't anymore. OK, you may have had to go away, but there is something I have to do too—love you. Wholeheartedly. I need you to know that not once in the entire 1,384 days that we've been apart have I ceased to love you. Hell, I even started going to church for you at one point. I mean, I guess that was essentially canceled out when I started taking drugs to distract myself from you-"

He stopped himself, shaking his head. "None of that's relevant. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is this: I have to love you. I just have to. And I don't care if you throw me out of here and you never wanna see me again, I will continue to love you, even if that happens."

"Spencer-"

"I don't care if you tell me you hate my guts. Truth be told, I probably deserve it after not manning up and admitting to myself that I needed to help you."

"Spence-"

"None of that matters now. All I know is that I love you. And I love every single thing about you. Every quirk, every trait. I love how you organize the condiments in the fridge by color when I can't even remember to check the expiration dates. I love that you dot your i's with open circles. I love that you somehow always smell like fresh linen, even though I'm fairly positive that's not a scent in the wide variety of women's perfumes that this world has to offer. I even love that you dog-ear your pages, even though it drives me bat shit crazy when my coworkers do it on the plane. I love you. That's all I know. That's all I've known since that night you coached me through that bad panic attack when I was literally seconds away from sobbing on the bathroom floor. And you know how much I hate touching places where people have stepped."

Imogen giggled, a real genuine giggle that Spencer hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime. A giggle that sounded like honeysuckle, and happiness, and home.

She forced back tears that welled in those perfectly teal eyes Spencer couldn't get enough of. "Can you give me just a few minutes? You can sit there on the couch. There's just… I need to give you something."

He nodded, his heart heavy with anxiety as she walked toward what was presumably her bedroom. He was tempted to shed himself of the constricting fabrics that clung to his chest and arms, but thought better of it, all things considered.

His anxiety only grew worse as he considered his tangent, thought after thought racing through his brain. What if I said too much? What if she hates me? What will she think about drug addiction? What if she comes back and shoves me right back out the front door?

But, much like a guardian angel, that beautiful, melodious voice that belonged to one Penelope Garcia rang through his ears. And suddenly, he was OK. It didn't matter if Imogen accepted him. He was there, he'd made peace, and he was purely, absolutely, wholly himself. And that was OK.

Three minutes that felt more like ten hours had passed before she came back, and with every breath Spencer took within those minutes, he felt as though he'd vomit all over her shaggy brown rug, despite the comfort in the voice that sounded through his ears.

When Imogen walked back into the room, she didn't say anything. Instead, she just placed a chestnut-colored envelope in his hand, her t's still crossed with the same curl she always used.

He didn't have to open the letter, he already knew by the smile on her face what her response would be.

Still, in the most comfortable silence he'd felt in three years, he opened the envelope, pulling out pink, floral stationery that felt just so inherently Imogen.

"Dear Spencer,

You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.

Ever again.

I mean it. - Imogen 𖤐"

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞." - 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧

Welcome one and all to what was originally the end of SYGB 🥲

The last two parts were technically the epilogue but because I just couldn't get enough of Spencogen (as i'm choosing their ship name to be), I wrote a bonus chapter which is now the finale.

But could you imagine if it ended here? Open ending, not really any closure? It's kind of sad to think about.

All that aside, I hope you guys enjoyed the second of the final three SYGB chapters. I know I had a lot of fun and a lot of emotions writing this one 💖

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @wwwonzeee @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @rexorangecouny

☆𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒☆

[avidbeader]

Got tagged by @amidalogicdive!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

83

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

648,594

3. What fandoms do you write for?

In order of works, VLD, Harry Potter, Sherlock, Doctor Who, Sense8, and Ted Lasso. Dead Boy Detectives is probably next on the list.

4. Top five fics by kudos?

The Perils of Innocence (no surprise there) - HP

The Quintessential Bond - VLD

From the Outside Looking In - VLD

A Disturbing Lack of Flora - VLD

An Unacceptable Bargain - VLD

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to. But either I get to it right away or they sit there until I have the time and the motivation together for it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Either "Unseen", a HP fic where Hermione saves Harry but because the (IMO awful) canon pairings happened, he can't properly thank her, or "The Dying of the Light", a preKerb Sheith fic about Keith learning of the Kerberos mission failure.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh, there's so many happy endings in my fics! But I'll say "Rebuilding Reality", my fix-it for S8, since we have to go through all the mess first.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not hate as in antis being dumb, but I have gotten some unnecessary "criticism" on "The Perils of Innocence" because people don't like something about it. Or can't read the original books/pay attention to the first movie and realize that Harry doesn't get the first Hogwarts letter on his birthday, meaning that it's perfectly valid to think that the school sends out all acceptance letters at the same time each year.

9. Do you write smut?

Now and then.

10. Craziest crossover?

I haven't done a crossover yet. Might do one between VLD and Dead Boy Detectives in the near future.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I tried translating "The Perils of Innocence" into Spanish myself, but got a lot of unnecessarily harsh comments on it and took it down. Someone asked to translate the same fic into Polish on FFN and I gave my permission, but I think they stalled out on the third chapter.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, although I have an outline of something that I might write with another fic author.

14. All time favorite ship?

Sheith

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I am not giving up on any of them.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm told description of action scenes and dialogue and incorporation canon bits into my world.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I find endings very hard.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Maybe a line or an exchange, but not a prolonged conversation.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

The *very* first that I can remember is making stick-figure comics involving Wonder Woman and Barbie and fairy tale princesses. The first time I shared anything I wrote with someone else was for "Star Wars". "Harry Potter" is the first fandom where I posted fic online.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Sorry, can't choose.

If you like the questions and want to play, consider yourself tagged.

[renegadeknight]

Can I be super obnoxious about the ask game? ‘Cause I’m gonna.

2, 4, 17, 18

If you only want to answer one… 17 or 18. (You know I’m a whore for the snips.)

love that for me 💙

2. a character whose POV you're currently exploring

I'm actually currently trying to wrangle some Tommy POV, which has been harder than I thought it would be 😅

4. a story idea you haven't written yet

Ugh so many but one I'm really excited to get to eventually is another alt meet au where Joel finds an injured Ellie in the woods while he's on a remote-ish Jackson patrol and then he has to deal with the fallout when some raiders/fireflies come looking to take her back

17 got a little long so I put it under the cut with 18, thank you for the ask!

fic writer ask game!

17. talk about your writing and editing process

it feels like a chaotic mess to me but I usually start with a very rough just bare bones draft of something, I usually call this "word vomit" cause that helps me combat the perfectionism and just get shit on the page. some parts will be more fleshed out than others on this initial pass if a certain scene/moment strikes me, but sometimes it's literally just "Ellie says something that makes Tommy want to walk in front of a train" like vibes and what I want are easier to jot down at first even if I don't know how it's going to play out quite yet then I go back through for a second pass and try to flesh out the structure of the scene, what's my goal and who goes where and does what to achieve that goal. this can be more or less polished depending on how many mental drafts I've done of the scene. sometimes if it's a lot of convo I'll cut that to another document to work on just the dialog with no narrative distractions and then cut it back in to work out the body language interactions etc. but I still sometimes leave carrots like "<something something he asks one more question and she snaps something back" and leave it for future me to figure out and then the third pass is where I start to finalize things and paying more attention to how I'm saying things instead of what I'm saying. I try to work out all the carrots that I left behind and make sure I've hit all the story beats I was aiming for. if I'm not completely done with it after that, I'll read through one more time just for a flow/vibe check, pick up some typos if I'm paying close enough attention and then post it immediately because if I don't then I will keep picking at it until my eyes bleed

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

This was some very early drafting for Stubborn Love where I thought Joel might push for Ellie to get a say that first time Tess came to take her to a permanent placement, and then Ellie promptly disappeared from said placement. Obviously I ended up going a different way with it, cause I felt like it was too early in the game for her to be running away and Joel to know exactly where she went. So I used that later 😉

And this was also very early SL drafting of the "not your dad/not my daughter" conversation where initially I had this idea that Ellie thought Joel was just estranged/ghosted Sarah and so she sort of stepped in it a bit. Ultimately I decided to let Ellie figure that out before this conversation cause it felt like she would piece that together. (also an example of mostly keeping to the dialog in early drafting, and "Silence for a hot second" would defs get revised to something more eloquent lol)

[special-bc-ur-part-of-it]

fic writer 20 questions

thanks to @kurtsascot for the tag !!!

idk who has or hasn't been tagged yet, but imma tag @rockitmans @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @thaliaisalesbian and anyone else who wants to play :)

how many works do you have on ao3?

22 :)

2. what's your ao3 word count

99,816

3. what fandoms do you write for?

glee <3

4. top 5 fics by kudos

3 a.m. (80 kudos)

Zip Tease (72 kudos)

Remote Learning (71 kudos)

New Adventures Summer Camp (58 kudos)

Running in Circles, Coming up Tails (56 kudos)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

yes! i tend to respond to nearly every comment <3 bc i enjoy attention <3 and it's nice to talk to people <3

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i think it's probably knife with your heart up your sleeve. which still ends ambiguously but. i tend not to do the angsty ending lol

7. whats the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i'm gonna say Home for the Holidays because that fic is nothing but holiday fluff <3

8. do you get hate on fics?

thankfully no. i've seen a couple passive-agressive comments before, and @cerriddwenluna lovingly said "jail for iz" in a 'live-blog' comment on New Adventures Summer Camp once, but no actual hate yet <3

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

i tend not to. if i do, it'll probably end up pretty sappy romantic and non-explicit (see: run away to mars)

10. do you write crossovers? whats the craziest one youve ever written?

nah. AUs tho? heck yeah.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

not that i know of!

13. have you ever cowritten a fic before?

i started co-writing one with someone a while back, but then we both got busy and forgot about it whoops

i think it would be fun to co-write with someone tho, so uh. lmk <3

14. fave all time ship?

gotta be klaine <3 the brainrot is real <3

15. wip you want to finish but doubt you will?

sequel fic to Running in Circles, Coming up Tails

16. what are your writing strengths?

uhhh dialogue maybe? fluffy shit? idk, it's hard to name your own writing strengths

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

scene descriptions, smut, figuring out what happens in the middle part of multi-chapter fics, actually sticking with recurring underlying themes...

if i keep thinking about it, i'm gonna get real mean to myself so i'm gonna stop there

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

i don't usually do it because i only know english and like. half-spanish, but i like when people do it !!

19. first fandom you wrote for?

harry potter. i think i was somewhere between 10 and 13 years old. i used wattpad. i believe those fics no longer exist, or if they do, i sure as fuck haven't looked at them in years (and i think i deleted ye old wattpad account)

20. fave fic youve written?

hng most of them hold a special little place in my heart (or live rent free in my brain), but i think i gotta say New Adventures Summer Camp. i reread it every so often bc it makes me smile :) (for most of the fic at least)