#I know SOME things that happen but not HOW they happen. I'm largely unspoiled in contexts at least. And there's a lot I don't know.

[johnnyshrine]

★ 016 // “Mourning A Fate That Hasn't Happened Yet”

[stoneheart-paramour]

take a shot every time paramour tinkers with the timeline/scenes in hiveword

[you are admitted to the ER with acute alcohol poisoning]

i just remembered a few lil things i needed to add, and also realized one of the scenes was redundant due to some other tinkering i did earlier, so i did something else with it. y'know, i used to think that writing a book/story meant having the ENTIRE plot, start to end, set in stone already. like, you didn't start until it was, and then you never strayed from that outline. now it probably does work that way for plenty of writers, but i'm finding that as i go, i often realize something or other would flow better in a slightly different configuration.

when i wrote Autumn Wanderer, i actually don't entirely remember HOW i approached it, if i had a rough timeline all laid out to follow. i did have all the key events worked out and i knew the order they happened, but if i remember correctly, i didn't make a tidy bullet point list of each scene moment-to-moment, i just sorta wrote in the general direction of where the plot was supposed to go.

it's sorta interesting to me now, because i rarely write that way anymore. i can't remember when i actually started doing this - a few years ago, perhaps? - but creating a skeleton of the story/scene from start to finish helps me keep focused on what i'm trying to achieve, and it makes sure i hit all the notes i intended to. yet, i still go "off script" sometimes, following the flow of the scene where it feels most natural. maybe it's just that a bit of structure and spontaneity is the ideal approach for me; who can say.

and so on a larger scale, the chapters, it's kinda the same thing; i've got the "script" as i originally jotted it down, but then as i'm moving through each, i sometimes realize that something should probably happen sooner, or later, or even not at all, or i realize something ought to happen first, that two scenes/chapters need some kind of buffer event(s) between them; it's interesting.

on the whole, none of the broad strokes are changing, i'm still largely following the "script", but it's a lot more fluid, more malleable, than i realized it could or should be. the further along i get, the less solid the script is (well not for a long while yet, but still) but i wonder if it'll tighten up as i go along. i sorta visualize it like a braid or rope; something twisted together from lots of strands. all the plot threads coming together to form the narrative... at the start, it's tight and neat, but towards the end it becomes looser, then maybe a little messy, or tangled in places, and eventually you get to the part where all the threads are completely unincorporated, just waiting for their turn.

when i started writing Autumn Wanderer, i already knew exactly how it ended. not so with this story, at least not yet. i have ideas of course, i know the gist of the conclusion i hope to achieve, but i don't have a clear, neatly organized series events that lead to "THE END" like i do for most everything else. i am of course working towards finalizing all this stuff, but if someone asked me, "so how does it all end?" all i could really say is, "happily ever after" - which is SO corny but idc. happiness is the point. joy is the point. an end to suffering and pain, at least for the characters, has always been the intended conclusion. not that it's going to be perfect and unspoiled of course, but it doesn't need to be. coming to terms with the rough edges of life we can't ever hope to sand down is as important as anything else we gotta do to survive and thrive. but, i digress. the precise final steps to everyone getting to this point aren't known to me yet, but i'll get there when they do lol.

[lovieebby]

All of You

summary: you finally feel comfortable enough for henry to see you. all of you, the scars, dents and scuffs

word count: 2.4k

pairing: henry cavill x reader (y/n)

warnings: heavy angst, supportive henry, PTSD, panic attack, past car wreck, >>>(please don’t read if this triggers you!)<<<

a/n: i got into a bad bad car accident when i was a kid& i have scars littered all over my body and a disphormed foot due to the accident and all the surgeries. i haven’t seen fics like this so i got inspired to write one. the first time a man saw me naked, i had a panic attack (bless my husband, he's a peach) but the “anniversary” of my recovery is coming up so that just made me want to do this even more. this hits a lil close to home so lemme know what you think okay? and i give all my love to anyone coming home in their new skin, i love you and i'm glad you’re here

Tag list: @hell1129-blog @snowbellexx @summersong69 @kaizet @imjusthereforliam

If you want to be added to my taglist lemme know!

you had always been cautious about showing your skin to henry, you had small and large scars all over your body. you were confident and comfortable in your skin, but not enough for him to see all of you in the nude. no one but you and a selected few have seen all of your skin. henry had seen some of them, the less ugly ones and had asked what happened, you always telling him it was due to something not related to what actually happened.

even though you both wanted to jump each other’s bones, your anxiety stopped you. in a heavy petting make out session or when he would come up behind you and whisper dirty things in your ear. henry had told you over and over that sex didn’t matter to him, he didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position and scare you away.

today had been off, your mom had left you a voicemail early this morning, thanking the gods you’re still here in the world, and hearing that at 7am made your stomach churn. you tried to not remember those days, memories fogging in and out, your brain protecting you. it brought back all sorts of pain, physical and emotional, almost like phantom pains, but your limbs were still there. 

you had taken more pain killers today than any other normal day. uncomfortable but still pushing through, you made plans with henry for you to come over for dinner, and you wanted to make that. he’s been gone for about a month and you missed him terribly. you had gotten dressed and done something with your hair that looked at least presentable.

as you walked to the door with your car keys in your hand, they felt heavy. you looked down at your hand bouncing the keys. you screwed your face up, biting the skin on your bottom lip.

you couldn’t help the flooding memories of your own screams, fogging your mind. it felt like you were back in your beaten car, remembering the choked calls for help, grabbing any bystanders attention. feeling your leg ache, feeling like it was shattered and torn open all over again, you cursed loudly, closing your eyes as tight as possible.

you couldn’t help the violent shake and sob that overpowered you. you set your keys back in your purse, trying to breathe in deep as you fumbled to your couch. once you sit down you clench your leg, trying to relieve the pain. you were sixteen when you wrecked, it took a couple years to get behind the wheel again, when you finally drove without breaking down, you felt on top of the world.

but right now it felt like you were drowning in the deepest ocean. you covered your eyes, pushing your palms in, hoping to stop the tears. sinking into your couch, your mind replaying the vivid memories once again. you rocked back and forth, not knowing what to do with yourself.

the phone had rung out, but it felt like it was miles away. you peeked at it, wiping your eyes. henry was calling, his face lit up your screen and seeing him smiling in a baseball cap with kal, made you shake. you let it go to voicemail, purposely missing his call, you didn’t want him to see you like this, let alone hear you breaking down.

get it together, you gritted to yourself, hitting the couch cushion next to you.

you were having a panic attack, you were able to identify them now. they usually came slow and most times you could calm down before they got this bad, but this one came so fast you hadn’t had time to prepare yourself.

your phone rang out again. you looked down at it, seeing that it was henry again, he was probably worried now. you were supposed to be there thirty minutes ago. you wanted to text him that you were running behind, but the phone felt so heavy in your hands, like a stack of bricks in your palm.

you sobbed again, feeling incompetent to do anything in the moment, you had tried everything to supress the anxiety through out the day. maybe that’s what you did wrong- maybe you should’ve dealt with it when the feelings first arose, maybe if you could just pull up your big girl pants, dealing with this like a normal human. but you couldn’t, and you wanted to tell yourself it's okay to feel this way, but it was hard to deal with the feeling of falling apart.

you wheezed out a gasp, feeling nauseous. standing up fast, you ran to the bathroom, curling yourself around the toilet, upchucking whatever you ate that day. once you felt like you emptied your stomach, you leaned against the wall near the toilet. you closed your eyes as you flushed, not wanting to chance puking again by seeing your lunch in the bowl.

hearing a knock at your door, you ignored it, if you stayed quite, maybe the person will go away. it seemed believable, most of your lights were off. you thought they’d left when you heard nothing, but you seconded guessed when you heard your front door open.

“(y/n)?” you heard henry’s voice, you gasped as you scrambled to the bathroom door to close it. but you were too slow as you saw henry’s feet.

henry’s heart broke when he saw you, your makeup had streamed down your face with fresh tears rolling down your jaw. he called your name out again, but more urgently, he wanted to pick you up and hold you tight, wanting to fix whatever had happened.

you put all your weight into his open arms when he crouched down to your level. you sobbed his name, needing someone to hold you. you felt dumber than a bag of rocks, thinking you could do this alone. you knew better than that.

“you’re okay bug, let it all out.” he said, sitting on the threshold of the doorway, putting you in his lap. one hand holding your head and the other wrapped around your waist, squeezing tight.

he was definitely not expecting this, he was honestly wondering if you just got stuck in traffic, or that you had a flat tire and was stranded somewhere. when he had called you the second time, he felt his gut drop, he felt like something was definitely wrong. he was glad he trusted his gut, but he felt upset seeing you like this.

you hiccuped wanting to explain to him, but no words came out. henry rubbed your back for quite a while before you calmed down enough to look up at him. henry's heart broke even more, seeing your pained eyes, your face flushed and your swollen lips from holding your cries in.

you thought on how to tell him, your words jumbled together and nothing making sense in your head. maybe now was the time to tell him, you weren’t able to hide it anymore. you needed to be vulnerable to him, you needed to kick the ego to the side and be completely honest.

“what happened to you love?” he asked, trying his hardest to wipe the tears and soiled makeup off your face, using the sleeve of his coat. he kissed your forehead and rubbed your flushed, warm cheeks with his thumb, his others wrapped close to your ear.

“i need to show you something,” you hiccuped, standing up slowly. you weren’t able to find the words to tell him, so you thought if you showed him, it would give you the courage to speak. you breathed a shallow breath as you started to take off your leggings, grabbing the waist line.

“whoa babe, you don’t-“ henry started to say, getting up to stop you.

“no please,” you cried out loud, closing your eyes tight, letting stray tears out, “i lied,”

you bent down and pulled off your leggings, leaving you in your underwear. as you stood up straight, you grazed your hand lightly on your right leg where the long jagged scar starting at your ankle trailing up to the bottom of your knee cap.

henry sat, mesmerized, the scar covering most of your leg. he looked at you, wanting to say something, but nothing could come out, he wanted to say you didn’t have to feel forced to show him, this was something that had changed your life, altered your world even. a little part of him was flattered that you wanted to show him all of you, but the other part of him was baffled and amazed that you came out of something so horrible, and that you’re still alive. he looked back down at the rest of your legs, your left thigh having, what looked like a burn, that one reaching your midthigh, wrapping around to the outside, fading.

“today marks four years,” your spoke as your voice croaked, you stepped out of your pants, then took the bottom of your shirt, starting to pull it over your head, “since my accident,”

your lip quivered, you were tired of second guessing yourself on when it was the right time to show henry. you knew this was the right moment when he came into your home and saw your broken self in a million pieces on your bathroom floor. the way he held you, cradled you, protecting you from all the bad in the world and in yourself. you knew he was the one and you couldn’t hide it anymore, not from your henry.

you took your shirt off completely, leaving you in your undergarments, you breathed in deep and finally looking at henry. he sat there, stunned while taking everything in. he slowly stood up all the way, his iced blue eyes glazed over with unspoiled tears.

he saw you completely different, he saw you as a strong woman, victorious against your terrible odds.

“i was sixteen when my back tire from my car blew on the highway,” you started to explain, “i rolled four times, and the front of my car hitting the columns under the bridge, the engine fell into my lap and the antifreeze burnt my thigh really bad,” you grazed your hand over the slowly fading scar, taking another shaking breath, “the engine had crushed my leg and it had broken my tibia in many places, the doctors wanted to amputate when a bad infection set in, but my mom,” you whimpered out, crying again when you remember how hard your mother fought for you when you were unable to comprehend what was happening to you, “she insisted they do every else but that.”

you stopped for a moment to watch henry's reaction, searching his features, waiting for him to say something. he had his hand covering his mouth, the other under his arm, he wanted to hold you, caress you. he met your gaze and let a stray tear slip, landing on his fingers.

“my airbags didn’t deploy, so when the steering wheel snapped on impact, it hooked into my stomach,” you finished, biting your cheeks and wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling the thick scar just above your belly button.

“do you feel any pain?” he asked, his voice horased. he moved his hand from his face when he spoke, inching it closer to you.

he had no idea what to do, all he knew is that his love was hurting and that he needed to hold her close, not wanting her to fall apart.

“some times,” you said, glancing to the side, looking at your reflection, “i forget about them,” you turned fully, looking at your back,

“they had to take muscle from my back to put my leg together,” you said as henry turned you around to look at it himself.

the scar had begun at one shoulder blade, ending at the other, he grazed it softly but retracted back, not wanting to hurt you. “am i okay to touch you?” he asked, he didn’t want to make you feel any pain if they were tinder.

you hummed and nodded your head, relaxed. feeling relieved that he didn’t run out the door the moment he saw your broken body. you felt like a ton of weight had been lifted off your chest.

henry laid his hand flat and felt every ridge, the skin was silky smooth, but bumpy and stretched. henry clenched his teeth together, he couldn’t even fathom what you had felt, from the beginning to now.

“you don’t need to see me as fragile,” you said softly, grabbing his other hand, looking at his reflection, “i’ve been beaten up, but i’m okay.”

henry gave you a small smile, he turned you to him, wrapping his arm around your back to pull you to him. he kissed your head as you rested yours on his soild chest.

“i don't see you as fragile, you’re stronger than you know,” he said, resting his cheek on your head, squeezing you tight against him.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t honest with you.”

he pulled you back and shook his head at you, “you have nothing to apologize for, you shared something very personal with me, and i’ll be forever grateful that you trust me enough to see you,” he said, grazing his thumbs over your cheek bones, intensely looking in your eyes, making sure you hear him and believe him, “all of you.”

henry kissed you deeply, pouring all his love for you into the kiss.

a/n: i’m showing you all of me, whether you asked for it or not. feedback is always welcomed, love you and thank you for reading bby;)