#also your writing is so visceral it punched me in the gut several times thank you

[myshredda]

To add on to the ask about Green crying in the closet and Red finding him:

I think that's probably the moment where Red stopped being so off putting to the little guy and decided he was part of the clump. No matter how grown up he acts, he is just a kid and now he's crying and hiding in a closet because he doesn't want anyone to know and the whole situation just breaks Red's heart. (And maybe there's a bit of projection/recognition from when the teachers were still around and how all of them, but especially Yellow in this case, acted.)

The first few seconds are very awkward as Red tries to pat him on the shoulder and comfort him and Green tries to wipe his face and pretend like he wasn't just sobbing. But it just feels so wrong and he knows that if he messes this up, the next time Green's upset he'll just hide it better and that's the last thing he wants. So he just scoops him up, sits down in the closet, and closes the door. At first Green tries to escape because he's not a baby, he doesn't need to be held, and he doesn't want Red to know anything about his feelings. But Red is so soft and a very good hugger and he's running a hand through his hair and he just feels so safe and before he knows it, he's crying again. Red wants more than anything to ask what's wrong and make him feel better but he just lets him cry for a bit.

When he finally stops, Red asks him a few questions but Green's still pretty elusive because he's not ready to make the effort to explain his feelings yet. Red lets it go but definitely remembers ask about later. They go their separate ways after they climb out of the closet and just pretend like it didn't happen but Green is noticeably closer to Red, physically and emotionally, after that. He'll sit closer to him or answer when Red asks what he's thinking about (but not on a super deep level) or just exist in the same room as him instead of finding his own place to play.

It's small steps but it's something

Let me tell you this is heartbreaking. HEARTBREAKING. Imagining Red finding Green sobbing in the closet and immediately being slapped in the face with the imagery of it and how closely it resembles Yellow after a bad encounter with a teacher and his heart just drops all the way down into the floor because THEY did this. They made Green feel like they used to, back when life was bad and pain was a given and it makes Red feel sick to his stomach because he played a hand in this so he stays there and he's like gingerly attempting to comfort this kid that he doesn't really like but looks so much SO MUCH like a person he loves and he's trying so hard not to fuck this up because you're right, next time Green would just hide better (or go deeper into the nightmare closet, god forbid)

I cant even form coherent thought about the next bit, GOD the thought of Red just hunkering down in the closet with him and holding him the same way he holds Yellow and it's all so familiar but everything's wrong and Green's trying to get him to stop because he doesn't NEED physical affection because he's above that sort of thing but Red's so soft and so strong and so safe he just dissolves into tears, for possibly the second time in his life, and he can't help but think about the biggest ones, in the old upstairs, the ones that tortured lab experiments because they were bored, and this Red one here, big mitt cradling his head, like he was something worth comforting, and just cries and cries and cries and he's so embarrassed when it gets done he barely says two words to Red but Red lets him go and doesn't force him to say or do anything he doesn't want to, so like the beginnings of trust are all but planted there in the fucking NIGHTMARE CLOSET and from then on he'll shadow Red a little and drift towards him more and talk to him more instead of hiding himself away.

screaming and throwing up blood over this ask btw. at work

[writtenbyevie]

Hi hi!! For the fic recs ask game:

2, 6, 7, 12, 15, 17, 18! I know these are a lot so feel free to not answer all, I’m just very curious and am selfishly looking for new fics to read. Sending hugs and kisses your way, big big love you 💫

my dear, darling jules it's never too much 💫💛!!

firstly, because I adore you, secondly, because I've read so many fics (per my 37 pages of ao3 history and that was only AFTER I got an official account) and I've been fortunate to read so many wonderful things and I'd love to share!

so let's crack in ✨

p.s. if you want more info on a fic I've listed, just lemme know! I'd give a synopsis for each, but then this post would be terribly long

2. a fic you've reread several times

I love rereading fics. Both for my own enjoyment and when I'm in a rut writing my own stuff. I'll reread sections of fics that I feel emulate what I'm trying to do and go from there!

these are some I've reread for both above reasons but there are A LOT more:

cracked open by gentle hands by insomnia (cosmicbluebells) (sunaosa)

Full Bloom by bumblebeesknees (iwaoi)

shinsaibashi, 1:47 am by yamabato (sakuatsu)

Glow by ftld (sunaosa)

6. a fic that made you smile on a bad day

ATSU101: how to fall in love with your fake boyfriend by solyn (sakuatsu + literally every other hq ships cameos)

I sure hope that guy gets fired by Xov (iwaoi)

I've reread both of these upwards of three or four times all the way through. They are laugh out loud funny and just so sweet.

7. A writer who makes you think #writergoals

FTLD!!! FTLD!!! FTLD!!! FTLD!!! FTLD!!!

I am obsessed with how they write. A perfect blend of prose, comedy, characterization, plot, and insight. SO GOOD!! They are a private account on ao3 (meaning you need an account to read their stuff) but my god I am IN LOVE. They primarily write Sakuatsu and Sunaosa, but also Iwaoi and the occasional rarepair and Bokuaka.

I so desperately want to be their friend to just shower them in praise, but they're don't have a tumblr alas :/

12. a fic you couldn't stop reading once you started

My preferred method of reading for both books and fics is binge reading, but unfortunately life does not allow such things. I read both ATSU101 and Full Bloom in one sitting! Other ones I read all in one sitting were (also almost all of these are 40k+):

the death of our hands by Bershlate (bokuaka)

LITTLE LION MEN by mcbeefy (sakuatsu [also obsessed with this author])

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu (chanyeol) for mamimi (hyemiyah) (iwaoi)

15. a fic you wish you could display on your bookshelf

would it be horribly vain of me to same my own? I kid. in all seriousness though, I'd probably put Full Bloom by bumblebeesknees on display.

I remember finishing it with my hands shaking. It's just so visceral in how it's written. Violently vulnerable.

Sakuatsu, Sunaosa, and Iwaoi are all my top ships, but there's something about the prose in Iwaoi fics that hit like a GUT PUNCH!! I just really admired the writing in this fic and it's long enough to be a book so that's why I picked it.

17. A fic you wish you could reread again for the first time.

I'm not sure why I picked this fic, but it just has a special place in my heart. It's so soft and real and simple.

you're the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) by ghostpot (kuroken)

18. A fic that ripped your heart out (but it hurt so good)

So many Iwaoi fics. So many. But also these:

run rabbit run by norio (bokuaka)

All There is to Say by nightscrawls (bokuaka)

Kilometer Zero by internetpistol (orphan_account) (iwaoi)

Missing You by ftld (sunaosa)

frankenstein's monster by starbeyy (sakuatsu [this has one of my favorite quotes of all time])

anywho jules!! here are some of my recs!! I have so many more (specifically in that funny-bittersweet-canon-compliant-post time-skip-between-10k-30k-category)

thank you so very much for the ask!! throwing over you like rose petals 💖!!

[the-bloody-sadist]

prepare for an entire novel please because ive just finished sinner and i have so much to say. tl;dr its my favourite thing in the world thank you for writing it.

i dont know what that story did to me honestly. ive never EVER felt so..... viscerally from something written. its insane. it made me feel so numb for so long and then it made me Feel and i feel like i just went through the entire rollercoaster with dazai. it made me cry and it made my chest so so painfully tight and it made my body go numb and it made me stop caring about anything in the world aside from just. that. reading that.

i am an absolute sucker for tiny touches and gestures that feel incredibly significant. obviously, sinner is packed full of those, and i am LIVING- its so slow and meticulous and particular and everything is so significant and its SO SLOW I WISH I COULD WRITE LIKE THIS. so so slow, the way everything happens. so dragged out and full of suspense and anxiety and i cannot explain how much i adore it.

i dont know why but. the thing that made me audibly gasp and cover my mouth like i was in a movie was when dazai said "mori likes it when i play doll". i cant scream enough about it. i had to drop everything and scream at my friends about it. i cannot explain the sheer Emotion. i dont know why, i dont KNOW when after everything thats happened that just seems so silly and mild but just. it really highlights how no matter how absolutely horrible fyodor was and how much he broke dazai, dazai got there already broken. it comes so suddenly its like seven punches in the gut and then several kicks when i was already on the floor wheezing. then a bus, rolling over my entire body. twice. made my spirit leave my body for multiple minutes before i was ready to continue.

and yes the chuuya x akutagawa parts were absolute gold i am obsessed i have never thought about that ship in my life but i will never stop thinking about it ever again.

thats it, i think. i say, closing my seven page essay-

no actually fuck it now that im already here let me just say forbidden blood is also a masterpiece and i reread it like 5 times and its good every single time. ok. now thats it.

have a good day :)

Good GRIEFFFFF!!!! Talk about feeling accomplished as an author when you get an ask like this holy SHIT.

I wish I could respond to every detail but I was literally sitting there with my mouth open and little tears pricking my eyes through the whole thing because THIS!!!!! THIS IS JUST!!!! Every reaction described is everything I’ve ever wanted to hit my readers with and I am insanely pleased that it at least hit you and the others who’ve told me as much.

That is ACTUALLY crazy about the Mori line because I HIGHLY debated taking that out 😂 the entire chapter really, but mostly that line felt so corny and I was like “am I pushing it??” But now I feel great about it. So thank you.

What you said about the TINIEST touches feeling gigantic is also MY favorite thing (no surprise) and I really had never discovered that as a possibility until anime as a genre, and how that brought out a lot of subtleties feeling like pillars of emotional damage and/or healing. Whenever I write anything, I want this the most. And it really worked out for Sinner.

THANK YOU SO MUCH. This made my day. And Forbidden Blood too!!! You trooper! Thank you for the compliments on that as well!

May both sides of your pillow stay cold for eternity. 😩✊ Much love to you!

[whumpywhumper]

Realization

TW: Medical Whump, Depiction of Hospitalized Whumpee, Aftermath of Captivity, Grief/Mourning

Tagging: @misspelledwitch @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @voidwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi  @captivity-whump @liliability @muumimafia @fanastywhump @elisabethrosewrites @unsure-but-alive-752 @jeverest00 @texdoeshalo @fanmanga1357-blog

@0idril0​ @rosesareviolentlyread​ @walkingchemicalfire​ I’m not lying when I say I wouldn’t write without these three, thank you for all your support and enthusiasm. 

Follows directly after: Consequences    Masterpost

V***V 

“What?”

Clint felt an unhealthy sinking sensation in his gut at Kincaid’s stricken expression. A wild, cold fear burst to life as the two law enforcement officers raised placating hands toward him. His wolf stood to attention, instincts cataloguing each and every micro expression, the shifting of their scents to nervous and sorrowful.

They know something about Markus.

“Clint, I need you to stay calm, okay? We don’t know anything for sure yet.” Ben’s placating tone did very little to soothe him or his increasingly restless wolf.

He could feel the growl building in his chest, the subvocal rumble trapped against the increasing beat of his heart. Placing his hands flat on the table, Clint suppressed the urge to stand and loom over the two other men, not wanting to ruin the relationship he’d been building over the last day.

“What don’t you know for sure yet?” The question came out dangerous and cutting, the wolf unable to completely mask the fear fueled rage that was brewing.

Kincaid swallowed heavily, easing himself away from the table and the predator on the other side. In a move too natural to be anything other than habit, his hand went to his waist where his side arm was located. “Clint, I need you to take a breath before we discuss this, okay? We’ll give you all the information you want, but none of us want an uncontrolled were’ in the hospital, right?”

Belatedly, Clint realized his eyes had flashed to his wolf’s golden yellow, the unnatural color sending primal signals of danger to the two officers. Licking his lips, Clint also felt the sharp points of his incisors, the lengthening bone telling him he was much closer to shifting than he wanted to be.

Hissing air through his teeth, Clint closed his eyes and wrestled back control. “You’re right, you’re right,” he said, letting the air out in a controlled exhale. He forced himself to lean back into his chair, trying to trick his body into relaxing with the casual posture.

Ben let out a shaky breath of his own at the gesture. “Thank you, Clint.”  He exchanged a look with Kincaid, the witch taking his hand off of his weapon and nodding slightly for the other man to explain. “I told you earlier about the John Doe, right?”

Nodding stiffly in acknowledgement, Clint felt a black bauble of refusal form in the back of his mind. No, no, don’t say—

“Clint, he looks an awful lot like the guy in your photo.”

Denial rested heavily on his tongue, and Clint’s head twitched on a negative shake. His mouth moved without input from him, a tinny echo reverberating in his ears. “Which guy?”

Clarification. One of the first rules of investigation. Make sure you’re talking about the same thing.

Ben took a deep breath as he slid the phone over, tapping the screen to make the photo appear again. His finger pointed directly at Markus’s face.

Clint’s sharp exhale sounded like he’d been punched. His eyes tripped over to Kincaid, question clear.

Corroboration. Don’t take one person’s word as fact.

The witch nodded, mouth tight with sympathy. “He’s pretty beat up right now, Clint, but I’ve spent some time with him the last few days. I would bet money that it’s the same guy.”

Correlation and Instinct. Don’t ignore your fucking gut.

The smell of magic, Kincaid’s hoodie reminding him of Markus. His gut telling him that the John Doe was important. His wolf howling as he left the nest behind.

It all added up to one thing.

Clint couldn’t suppress his savage snarl as he stood, chair skidding back into the wall with force as that black bauble burst into sharp shards of rage. He barely held back his shift as he demanded,  “Where is he?!”

Kincaid and Ben met his challenge, standing their ground as they stood to match his stance, hands going to their weapons.

“Clint, you need to calm down.”

“We’re not going to keep you from him, Clint: take a breath!”

He didn’t stick around for any more words, long strides taking him into the hallway and quickly outpacing the cursing police officers. He inhaled, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. Bleach and the overwhelming odor of sickness assaulted his nose, any recognizable scents so tangled that it was dizzying to try and parse through. Growling in frustration, Clint pulled around the corner and into the open hospital ward.

He didn’t even notice several of the nurses and visitors freezing as they caught sight of him. Instinctively, he took note of one of the uniformed police officers Holland had put on guard placing a hand on his weapon, posture settling in to move quickly if he proved violent. Clint’s wolf howled at the challenge, daring someone to get in between him and Markus.

Gaze flicking over the details, Clint catalogued that most of the rooms were open for observation, curtains drawn back and glass doors slid open so that the nurses had open access to go in and out. Only one of them was closed off, the curtains pulled to afford privacy.

Holland words floated in. The John Doe was the only ICU patient on this floor.

Still barely a moment, Clint surged forward, stalking toward his intended target. Kincaid’s shout to the uniformed officer to stand down from down the hallway was the buzz of a gnat, Ben’s yelling for Clint to calm down and wait for a minute not even registering to the pissed off wolf. He had to get to his friend.

The only thing that pulled him up short from forcing his way into the closed off room was the tiny nurse that barreled in front of him, arms spread wide as she faced him down.

“Just where the fuck do you think you’re going?!”

“Get out of my way!” Clint snarled at her, pretty sure his face wasn’t entirely human. The only thing holding him back from going through her was the fact that she was tiny and, enraged or not, he didn’t want to hurt her.  The woman barely flinched.

“No! Do you not see the signs on the door? This is a sterile room, and I’m not going to just let you waltz in there like this.” Her eyes blazed, furious and protective as a bear in front of her cub. “What business do you have in this room? Explain yourself!”

Kincaid and Ben finally caught up, almost tripping over themselves as they skidded up the fray.  

“Woah woah woah! Everybody calm down!” Kincaid grabbed onto his shoulders, pushing him out of the nurse’s face, using his own bulk to force distance between the near feral were and the breakable nurse.  

Clint transferred his snarl to Kincaid, the witch not backing down even as the wolf shrugged off his restraining hands. He knew he was being unreasonable, but god, if Markus was in there then he couldn’t stand the thought of being kept from him.

He started to pace, anxious energy burning him up inside. He kept one hand balled into a fist, the other buried in his hair as he fixed his gaze on the people between him and his goal. “I have to see if it’s him, I have to. You can’t keep me away from him.”

Ben held up his hands, trying to regain control of the situation, his affable demeanor imbuing the air with calm. “Nobody is keeping you from him, Clint, let’s just all take a deep breath.”

Clint tried to take a deep breath, but it came in as a barbed gasp for air, his wolf absolutely frothing with the desire to break the door down and get to his friend. He could feel his incisors elongating and subtracting with the internal struggle of keeping even a modicum of control.

The nurse sent a cautious look between him and Ben, her stance never shifting from being firmly in front of the door. “I’m not letting you in this room until I know what’s going on and your relationship to my patient. He’s not going to be hurt or infected just because you’re pissed off.”

“He’s my friend,” Clint howled, the implication that he would hurt Markus making his heart splinter. “His name is Markus, he loves his friends, and he’s terrified of heights. He’s been missing for months, and he’s been alone, hurt, and scared, and I didn’t find him! Please, fuck, just let me see him.”

The words tumbled out of him in a mad rush, anguished and visceral, Clint practically sobbing out the last plea as he faced the nurse.  Her eyes had widened at his tirade, stance softening as his distress became evident. Both Ben and Kincaid came closer to him, preparing to catch or support him if he needed it.

“Okay, okay, Clint,” she said, nodding her head and approaching him with open hands. “You’re gonna get to see him, okay? Let’s just take a minute and calm down, alright?” She motioned at one of the orderlies who’d snuck up, prepared to restrain him if necessary, and he grabbed a chair so that they could force him to sit down.

Clint shuddered but didn’t fight, breaths coming in staccato bursts as he tried to get back his equilibrium. “Please just let me see him,” he repeated, eyes blinking rapidly to force away the yellow.

The nurse squatted in front of him, grabbing a hold of his forearms and catching his eye. “I’m going to let you see him, okay, Clint? You just need to calm down first. Take a deep breath and let it out.” She pulled in a breath, and he matched it, following her instructions as he calmed down. “Good, good job.”

It took him a few minutes longer than he would have liked to regain all of his calm, his hands coming up to cover his face as he finally let out all of the frenzy that had overcome him. “Fuck,” he cursed, “Fucking hell.”

“You can say that again, buddy,” Kincaid huffed, patting him on the shoulder.

“You ready to continue the conversation now, Clint?” Ben asked. Clint nodded, rubbing his hand over his beard before meeting Ben’s kind gaze. “Okay, like I was saying before, we don’t know for sure that it’s him, right? But for you to go in and check, you’re gonna have to get decked out in a mask and gown. You remember what David said, right? He’s not doing well so even if it’s him or isn’t him, you’re gonna have to control yourself and be calm.”

Clint swallowed heavily, taking another deep breath as he climbed to his feet. “Yeah, yeah I got it, Ben. I can do this.”

The nurse, Catrina from her name tag, stepped in front of him, hand resting firmly on his bicep. “Clint, I need you to look at me and listen, okay?” She didn’t continue until his gaze locked with hers. “I need you to be prepared for what you’re going to see in there. From what it sounds like, you’ve already talked to Dr. Decker, right?”

Clint nodded, hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically as he shifted from foot to foot. “I didn’t know it was Markus, would’ve asked more questions if I’d known. Fuck.”

Catrina took his cursing in stride, pulling his attention back to her. “I’m gonna take that to mean that you don’t really know what you’re gonna find when you go in there alright?” She paused to let his brain catch up, looking for the understanding in his eyes. “Clint, he is not going to look like himself at the moment, okay? His face is pretty bruised, and he’s heavily sedated so he’s not going to be responsive at all.

“I need you to understand this next part crystal clear, okay? You can’t touch anything. He’s got a tube down his throat, and a machine is breathing for him. He’s got several other drains and tubes that are under the blankets, but they’re all doing important jobs. I don’t care if they look painful or uncomfortable, don’t mess with them. If you have a concern about the equipment, come to me first. Do you understand?”

Clint nodded, hands raising in surrender. “Hands to myself, I got it.”

“Okay, I’m here if you need anything or need to ask any questions.” She handed him gloves, mask and a gown with a tight but sympathetic smile. She was donning her own gear with him, clearly not going to let him be alone with her patient until he could prove himself. He took a settling breath and struggled into the equipment with unsteady hands.

Catrina opened the room up for him, and Clint’s senses were immediately assaulted on all sides. His nose was struck by the sour, muggy odor of iodine, stress, and pain. The beep, hiss, and whirr of multiple pumps drilling into his ears alongside the obnoxious hiss of a suction mechanism and oxygen through a hose that only his sensitive ears ever seemed bothered by.

He stumbled forward as Catrina pulled the curtain back slightly to allow him fully into the room, drawn forward by the inescapable need to see if this was his friend or not. Almost immediately, Clint’s wolf started howling in his head, knowing even before he did that he’d found his lost packmate.

It took him a moment for Clint himself to catch up, to realize what he was staring at as he came to a halt at the foot of the bed, claws digging into the meat of his hands.

Markus.

Tubes and wires snaked across the bed. Hesitating, swallowing back the animal whine in the back of his throat, Clint put a hand on the lump he assumed was a foot. The blanket dimpled under his hand from where warm air was being pumped under the blankets, and he felt the rhythmic hiss thunk of compression devices around Markus’s lower legs.

He took a steadying breath through his nose, eyes burning as he catalogued the machines and devices he saw. He finally came to the head of the bed and flinched.

The bed was half sat up, his friend swathed in blankets, a folded towel protecting his eyes from the light. But there was a familiar black tuft of hair, and pale skin under a mask of multicolored bruises. It was all there, barely visible under a plastic contraption holding a tube in place.

He could hear bubbling over the sound of the machines and braced himself. He knew that sound, it wasn’t a good sound. Swallowing hard, Clint shuffled around the bed, careful of his feet. Fuck, chest tube.

He’d listened when David had outlined the John Doe’s condition, the impersonal words laying out all of the harsh, gritty details necessary for law enforcement and other medical personnel to get a complete picture of what was going on with a victim. He’d pictured in his mind the reactions of friends and family once they’d found out what their loved one had been subjected to. Had even pitied the poor fucker who’d gone through so much only to be faced with the potential of never living free again.

He’d never imagined this.

Inching up the side of the bed, he gently pulled the towel away from the other man’s eyes, taking a closer look at the face hidden under all of the medical equipment.

A wounded noise broke free of his chest when he compared everything he knew about his friend with the face on the bed.

“Fuck.”

Clint heard his voice like it was someone else’s, a pitiful broken syllable that held every tear he’d wanted to shed since Markus had gone missing.  

“God. Fuck.” His eyes were burning, and he couldn’t look away from his friend.

He wanted to throw his head back and release the mournful howl that was building up in his throat, give a voice to the agony churning in his chest, the horror of the fact that this. . . this was the result of his failure. Instead, he bent his head and put his forehead against his friend’s, blinking away the tears as they filled his eyes.

“Markus,” he sobbed, “Oh my god, Markus, no . . . “

~

Holland was the one that came to collect him.

Clint didn’t know how long it’d been since he’d come in to see Markus, he hadn't been paying attention to Catrina moving around the room, his sensitive ears dismissing the shared whispers outside the door. All of his attention had been on Markus. He knew it hadn’t been long enough since he stopped crying for his eyes to be anything but bloodshot as he met Holland’s sympathetic gaze.

The older man looked ridiculous in the yellow gown and blue face mask, the worry lines in his forehead thrown into harsh relief in the fluorescent lighting. His hands were gentle though as he threw his arm around Clint’s shoulders, other hand taking a hold of his forearm to pull him carefully away from his friend.

“C’mon, Clint,” he murmured, normally gruff voice so soft with understanding that it almost set him off again.

Clint stumbled after Holland like a newborn colt, legs uncoordinated jelly as followed the other man’s guidance. He was barely aware of the door sliding closed behind him before he was ripping away the gloves, mask, and gown, needing the scent of his friend’s pain off.

Distantly, he registered that he was shaking, and pressed his palms together, bringing his joined hands to his face.

He couldn’t even think. His mind was blank. Heart numb.

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, whirling around with a yellow eyed snarl. Holland was there, his pressed lips together, Ben and Kincaid flanking him, all three of their concern clear. Clint opened his mouth, only to find that his words had deserted him.

He wasn’t the silent type. But this? It was beyond him. They had to see the truth in his red rimmed eyes, but they had a job to do now. They were no longer new colleagues working a case with a consultant. They were cops speaking with a victim’s family member, and they had to be certain.

“Clint, is that Markus?”

He nodded, breath leaving him in a harsh expiration, feeling suddenly dizzy. “Shit,” he gasped, grabbing a hold of his knees.

“Okay, c’mon, let’s get you sitting down somewhere. Kincaid, can you ask David to meet us in the conference room?” Holland gathered Clint up by the shoulders, trying to steer him down the hallway.

“No-wait—I can’t,” Clint’s words went in one ear and out the other, the older man bulldozing over his objections.

“He’s not going anywhere, Clint. He’s in the best hands he can be in now, right?”

Numbly, Clint nodded, running a hand through his hair. When they got to the conference room, he collapsed into the chair he had vacated earlier and looked at the mountain of evidence and paperwork that they’d collected, swallowing back bile when he realized the horrible things he’s been evaluating for the case had probably been done to his friend. It made it real in a way that cases usually weren’t for him.

Holland leaned on the desk beside him, reminiscent of their talk the other night, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Think you can answer some questions for me?”

Not trusting his voice, he nodded again.  “Yeah. . . “ he breathed.

“He’s your friend, and we’re going to give you any information that you want, but does he have any next of kin? Someone with the authority to make medical decisions?”

“He doesn’t talk to his family, closest he has to a sister is Illyn, but, uh,” he rubbed under his eye, “they never changed their medical proxies from Evan when they moved.”

Ben sat down across from him, faint lines standing out at the corners of his concerned eyes. “Is this the same guy from the phone earlier?”

Clint nodded, his stomach sinking. “I gotta call him again. Fuck. . . I gotta call Illyn.”

Holland squeezed his shoulder, exchanging a look with Ben, who nodded. “Kincaid should be here with David soon. Why don’t you get Evan on the phone first? David can answer your questions and you two can make a plan.”  

Clint reached for his pocket and froze when it was empty, looking around at the table.

“Oh, sorry,” Ben murmured, pulling Clint’s phone out and sliding it over. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, “I still had it from earlier.”

His hands shook as he took the phone back, and he swallowed heavily as the screen lit up. The picture from earlier stared up at him. Markus was smiling and happy. Completely different from the still, almost lifeless, figure he’d just left.

“We’ll give you a minute,” Holland said, giving him a firm pat as he motioned Ben to the door.

“Thanks guys.” He sucked in a deep breath and clicked on his contacts. Rubbing a hand over his face, he waited for the call to connect.

How the fuck do I break this to him? What do I even tell him?

“Hello?” The sound of barking accompanied his friend’s voice, and it was such a jolt of normalcy that it took his breath away.

“Ev’. . .”

“Clint? I haven’t heard anything from Deanna yet, it’s only been like an hour, right?”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a hell of an hour.” His chuckle was almost hysterical, and he could hear Evan pause. Could practically see the concerned look on his face.

Carefully, his friend responded. “Clint, if this guy already passed then there was nothing you could have done.”

“No, no,” he said, a little too firmly, “he hasn’t passed. Um . . . “ his voice trembled, and he took a small breath, trying to brace himself.

“Clint?” Evan’s voice was filled with apprehension, “What’s going on?”

“It’s Markus.”

“What? You mean you found what happened to him?”

Clint balked at answering, looking up at the ceiling with burning eyes.

“Clint,” Evan’s voice was hard as diamonds, “did you find the bastard that killed our friend?”

“He’s not dead, Ev’,” he answered, words slipping free like a clot, “He’s the John Doe.”

[veliseraptor]

Top 5 Dorothy Dunnett gut punch moments?

oh man. oh man oh man. Okay, this is like...a selection, of scenes that I thought of first, though as I was writing this I thought of like six or seven others I could’ve included and just. boy!! Dorothy sure does love punching me in the feelings. 

but anyway, here’s at least a sampling of some that hit me every time.

1. The scenes between Richard and Lymond at the end of A Game of Kings. Like, I know it’s a huge swathe of pages but god, the whole thing just guts me every time. When I was in...idk, high school? Middle school? Both? I had this mental collection of “bits of books I reread when I want to cry” and this section of A Game of Kings was reliably one of those. It hits so many of my buttons.

When Amelia read it for the first time she told me it was something I could’ve written (not stylistically, just in terms of content) and I was like. I feel both honored and also called out. 

Feature quote: 

Lymond took his hands from his face. The blood was everywhere now; his torment of grief public, uncaring. “Must I plead?” He stopped in extremity, beaten, shaken by pulses, and then struggled on. “You claim your right of execution...May I not exercise mine? Could all the chains of Threave outweigh what I already bear, do you think? Or all the Tolbooth’s pains be worse than this? ...You can’t relieve me of your weight, or help me, or free me...except in one way.”

2. The fucking...chess scene??? I mean, there was a period of time - and still sort of is! - where just thinking about “come, my love, and say goodnight to the dark” made me want to lie down and cry. And now even more I think the immediately after where Marthe is prying Lymond away from the board and he’s...barely even registering his victory? The whole thing is just an absolute gut-wrench of a conclusion to the Lymond-Gabriel conflict. 

Dorothy Dunnett, thanks for kniving me ten times in the chest, then kicking me in the stomach with the scene afterwards between Francis and Philippa where she sort of emotionally blackmails him out of committing suicide.

Feature quote:

And at the Gaelic, Jerott said, ‘Dear God in Heaven,’ and looked away from Francis Crawford, whose face was that of a man tortured with thirst, or lack of air, or the bitterest hunger. Then Jerott saw that the mutes were closing in, and that in a moment the child would reach Francis’s arms, and he began to run, to spare him the last terrible betrayal.

But Mikal got there first, and swept the child into his own embrace, all carnation and jasmine and soft hair and bright tinkling jewels. ‘Come, my love,’ said MIkal, ‘and say goodnight to the dark.’ And held him close, full of a sweet young compassion, as the little boy died.

3. The scene in The Ringed Castle where Lymond realizes he’s having a Feelings. I should, first off, say that I am not usually one for ~revelation of feelings~ scenes (though I guess I did just list another one for a recent favorite moments meme, look, every so often I am a sap). But not only does this scene have a line that I just think is beautiful (it’s the one about ‘feeling like a dog whose master has just died), it is also just...god, it’s the most painful ‘oh no’ moment I think I’ve ever read, because it isn’t this glorious recognition of a good thing but almost this...dread.

Too late, too late, it had happened.

The way that Lymond greets this feeling is with pain, and with grief. And it is just...a very particular kind of painful to read. Because of the tenderness surrounding it, and the joy of the scene preceding, and then...and then.

Thanks for making a “oh no I’m in love” hurt so bad, Ms. Dunnett, I see how it is. (It’s working for me.)

Feature quote:

He looked at her. The long, brown hair; the pure skin of youth; the closed brown eyes, their lashes artfully stained; the obstinate chin; the definite nose, its nostrils curled. The lips, lightly tinted, and the corners deepened, even sleeping, with the remembrance of sardonic joy...the soft, severe lips.

And deep within him, missing its accustomed tread, his heart paused, and gave one single stroke, as if on an anvil. ‘We’re there, sir,’ Nicholas said.

The air hurt his skin. His nerves, unsheathed, left him over-sensitized and defenceless, as sometimes happened: exposed raw to the touch of his clothes, as if his flesh had been stripped off with acid. He remained perfectly still.

4. The scene in Checkmate where Lymond, uh, “confesses” to Philippa. It’s a mess. It’s a mess and it shreds my feelings to pieces and leaves them in little bloody bits all over the floor. It’s just so much, there’s all this...like, it’s Lymond at his most insufferable making decisions for other people because he thinks it’s what’s best, but it’s also Lymond at his most self-loathing, and it’s like. 

Okay. You know what it is? It is that Dorothy Dunnett does ‘close cut scenes with small numbers of characters crashing into each other at full emotional speed’ really well. It’s so tense - the scene builds and builds and the crescendo moment of Philippa breaking the glass isn’t even the end of it. I feel this scene as I’m reading it, and not just in an emotional sense.

Feature quote:

She was breathing almost as quickly as he was. But she kept her voice calm. ‘As you say, I’m inexperienced. On the other hand, you are not always right. Please listen. Please think. Are you sure, when it matters so much, that you know my feelings better than I do?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not infallible. You might, without my crediting it, fall deeply in love and for ever, with some warped hunchback whelped in the gutter. I should equally stop you from taking him.

She couldn’t speak. Her breath wheezed in and out. With extreme deliberation, and indeed restraint and moderation as well, Philippa raised her glass and dashed it on the parquet. Crystals frosted the carpet between them, and the wine lay like blood.

Speech came back. ‘God in heaven,’ Philippa said. ‘Do you think that I care?’

He looked up from the mess. ‘I know you don’t,’ Lymond said. His eyes were black, not blue; and there were red splashes on the white velvet. ‘But you must excuse the hunchback, who does.’

5. Christian’s death in A Game of Kings. The thing about Dorothy is the thing where she makes really excellent female characters and then kills them. 

But I think Christian’s death is, in-narrative, one of the most wrenching - because Christian has been, throughout, such a good presence, such a positive presence, so determinedly steadfast and brave and kind - and the fact that her death is ultimately futile is just. 

It makes me want to scream. But in the “THIS IS A MOTHERFUCKING TRAGEDY, I HATE IT, THANKS” kind of way. 

Christian is, viscerally, a casualty of a war that’s not about her. And the way that her death is used, too - as a cudgel, as ammunition - just compounds the tragedy of her loss. 

Feature quote:

Then Lymond picked up Christian’s hand and carried it to his lips, holding it afterward folded in both his own. “More than I ever dreamed of,” he said - and like the serpent she had once called him, snarled voicelessly into Kate’s eyes as she looked up, horror-struck, from what the girl’s lifted hand had left revealed.

For the sheets of creased paper which Christian had brought with such pains from Haddington, which Margaret had found not worth her attention, and which Lymond had at last received, were quite blank.

[actualbird]

fic writers asks!! 

tagged by @icouldwritebooks​! thanks for the tag :Dc

What’s your total word count on AO3?

oh boy. my ao3 stats say 307,484 and i really dont remember writing that much. but then again ive had my ao3 since....2012....  

How often do you write?

everyday. i try to make a habit out of it. scene snippets, outlines, skeletons of stories. the real question is how much of it is decent to show to other people. the answer 98% of the time is NOPE NOPE NOPE. 

Do you have a routine for writing?

write an outline. more on that here because ive been told my outlining process is terrifying. this step takes the most time and suffering...

stop talking to everybody both verbally and online. only exceptions are my dogs. i cant seem to multitask on using words for a piece and using words communicating with the world.

sit down and write until one of the following happens. 1) i pass out, 2) i hate the thing so much i cant continue, 3) i finish it. 

i should ideally have an editing and revision step but i never do that with fic jdfhkdjfks

What are your favorite tropes/pairings?

COMEDY. thats a genre not a trope but GOD i love a fic thats just hilarious to the fucking bone. i love writing it and i love reading it and i love reading it again and again to painstakingly pick apart why it was funny. 

AUs!!!! im most obviously a sucker for magic/supernatural creature aus but every au immediately has my attention. it’s all about how well the fic manages to convince me of the premise.

mutual pining. im basic like that

not rlly a trope but Take Your Fandom To Work was a thing i ran into a bunch of fandoms ago and i LOVED IT. it was basically like, write ur fic as an au of what you do as a day job. i really really loved reading fics about jobs very clearly written by people who knew exactly what they were doing and all the consequences of that (i.e. ppl shading their own jobs djhkdsfs). broadway theatre tech!au, realistic teacher!au, shepherd!au, it’s WONDERFUL. i learned...so much...

Do you have a favorite fic of yours?

On One Condition and goodnight moon. theyre the fics that i had the Most self indulgent fun with. like i genuinely just said “fuck it” and filled it with all the dumb stupid magic stuff i loved and logically knew wouldnt mesh with more audiences but i had fun and thats what mattered. 

i also just realized now that these are two fics where the main characters are dragons. 

Your fic with the most kudos?

Professional Werewolf Witch wins with a whopping (oh lord) 4,758 kudos. is this a forest comes in second with 3,192 kudos. i very much prefer forest to pww cuz as much as the kudos are astronomical, the teen wolf fandom’s fic engagement rate was like //holds fingers very close together. this much. lotsa kudos but not much feedback which feels like a big crowd of people silently giving you a thumbs up. it’s awesome!! but i’d take comments over kudos any day ksjfhkdj

Anything you don’t like about your writing?

pacing/cohesion. this is something that my writing profs have rightfully chewed me out for several times. i have trouble making scenes go from one to the next so i very often resort to scene cuts or in built fic structures like the 5 + 1 to avoid making one flowing thing. of course, pacing differs in every story for stylistic and tone reasons (i often use it for comedic effect. like trying to emulate how it happens in movies like. NOTHING WILL GO WRONG //cut to everything going wrong) but i use scene cuts and choppy pacing so often that by now i realize it’s a crutch for how i cant string my scenes together very well.

exposition dump. you know that bit in a fic where everything is just Explained. yeah. yeah i do that and i hate it. 

wording. this is me being nitpicky now but i hate how i phrase things on a visceral level. it always feels overly pretentious. sometimes i read the things i write and i can hear my voice instead of the character’s voice and that isnt necessarily a bad thing but i do Not Like It At All.

rambly. slightly related to above.  if im not paying attention, i write like how i talk and my sentences just never end. i like a good long sentence as much as the next person but theres gotta be a good balance to it and i havent found that balance yet. lately ive also been reading some fics and stories that use a more concise writing style (shorter sentences, more focused on moving forward than describing, every detail like a gut punch) and it’s gorgeous. i really wanna learn to pack a punch in less words than more. 

i could....keep going....but i think thatd be going overboard. 

Now something you do like?

im told im funny and good at dialog. on good days i can believe this.

Tag People

hhhshfdkdfh i never tag anybody in these cuz im chicken but hey if u wanna do it, go for it!!! talking about writing is so much easier than writing after all ksjfkdjf

[whatevertheywant]

My Bisexual Opinion: ABBA Edition

I saw where another blogger had discussed several different ABBA songs, and given the general happiness the announcement today has given me,I’m gonna discuss some favorites of mine as well

1. Super Trouper- My favorite ABBA song! There’s something uniquely intimate yet still still fun and upbeat about it. I love Anni-Frid’s voice so much and how well she and Agnetha harmonize <3 <3 <3 My favorite lyrics are “I’ll be there when you arrive// the sight of you will prove to me I’m still alive//And when you take me in your arms and hold me tight// I know it’s gonna mean so much tonight” Everything from the backing vocals to the composition to the ladies’ always flawless voices is just so on point! Also, I totally want Anni-Frid’s jumper from the music video

2. The Winner Takes It All- A close second favorite. Oh my sweet lord! This song doesn’t get the love it deserves by a long shot. Like...sweet mother of emotional vulnerability! I know Bjorn says that he didn’t write this song about his and Agnetha’s divorce, but there had to at least be a touch of those feelings that went into it. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been, at least initially for Agnetha to know Bjorn wrote the words she was singing. You can definitely feel the raw emotion she put into it. I know the divorce was particularly hard on her. (The Meryl Streep version really puts my heart through the ringer, but I digress). There are too many examples of amazing, heart-wrenching lyrics to list them all, but the biggest gut punch is probably “And I understand...//You’ve come to shake my hand// I apologize if it makes you feel bad// Seeing me so tense// No self-confidence” then the last chorus. I just want to hug her and tell her it will all be okay.

3. Dancing Queen- An absolute bop! I don’t want to say it’s overrated because it is definitely deserving of its popularity, but I hate that the U.S. kind of slept on ABBA because they were thought to be purely a disco band because of it. Anyway, I actually sang this song for karaoke at an event a couple days ago. It’s so fun and easy to sing along to! You can’t help but feel at least a little better after you listen to it. I’m disappointed that no one sent me this song or sang it to me when I turned 17 tbh. I also associate this song with a disco tape my fourth grade teacher played for us all day every day (Yes, in the year 2005 A.D., the year of our lord. Someone always had to go flip it at least once a day.) Benny coming through with the piano! Everyone is obviously enjoying themselves.

4. Lay All Your Love On Me- Yaaaaas Angetha! Also an absolute bop! I have this song on a spotify playlist for my fiancee. I love the beat as well as the lyrics! It’s very much a mood when you’re falling fast for someone but haven’t quite made things exclusive with them yet. The subject is familiar enough for everyone to relate, but the lyrics are unique that they don’t fall through the cracks as just another vintage pop love song. “And I’m possessive. It isn’t nice// You heard me saying that smoking was my only vice// But now it isn’t true// Now, everything is you//”. Like, hell yes, intensity and love while acknowledging jealousy isn’t a cutesy part of a relationship but still natural! 

5. Mamma Mia!- Here I go again! Another fun crowd song. That piano and guitar intro/outro is just so I C O N I C. Usually,I focus more on lyrics than music as a writer, but the music is what makes this song unique and great to me. The arrangement is just. so. GOOD. The boys really brought their game to this one on all fronts. I do also love the lyrics. Very solid song, very easy to relate to. I also like the ambiguity that the song ends on. Did she go back to the guy or not? That’s the lack of resolution makes it all the more addictive imo.

6. Does Your Mother Know?- LET BJORN ULVAEUS SING LEAD MORE. I love,love, love the girls, but I need more Bjorn lead vocals! He’s a great singer, and this is such a fun, flirty song.  I like that it doesn’t take itself too seriously, and there’s something amusing about the mental image of young Bjorn at a bar trying to have this conversation with a barely legal fan that’s probably throwing herself at him.

7. Thank You For The Music- I love the simplistic style of this one. It’s possibly the sweetest songs the band has ever released. At some point, everyone has thought or said, “No, ABBA, thank YOU for the music!” It really was the perfect way to say goodbye (thank fuck they came back though!). It leaves you with a sadness that is still warm and fuzzy, like watching a friend or relative graduate. It would be a good song for a grad slideshow for a music major. And for added cuteness, imagine the home videos there likely are of tiny ABBA members singing and dancing! 

8. I’m a Marionette- My best friend’s favorite ABBA song. It is a grossly underrated one! It can be a little difficult to listen to because both the music and lyrics give off an anxious or frantic feeling, much like one would probably feel being a marionette (Ghost does a good cover of this one.). The music industry is often guilty of meddling with and stifling the creative process, which can make artists feel like puppets more than people. This is another song where the music stands out to me more than the lyrics. Anyone who hears it can see why.

9.  Fernando- I am a sucker for softer sounds. I also love the Spanish influence of the song as a whole. There’s a fond sense of nostalgia. The entire chorus is so sweet and makes you feel like you’re taken back in time along with the singer. Whether you take the song as being about two former lovers remembering being young revolutionaries or the war being metaphorical, it feels like the sweeter side of a bittersweet ending. “Though we never thought that we could lose// There’s no regret// If I had to do the same again// I would, my friend” makes me think of the split between Anni-Frida and Benny (just speculation) and their split possibly being more amicable than Bjorn and Agnetha (given that The Winner Takes It All has any inspiration from their divorce). Very haunting.

10.  Slipping Through My Fingers- (the Mamma Mia! version chokes me up sometimes because I must protect Meryl Streep at all costs) The song can be emotional enough without the creator context,but knowing why Bjorn wrote it makes it more visceral for me. If you don’t know, he wrote it because he  was feeling sad about missing out on so much of his daughter’s life because of how fast she was growing up and how frequently the band was touring. Agnetha sings vocals on this one, which adds to the emotion here. Ouch, right? They both did such a great job on this one! It feels so poignant and authentic. It can tug at the heartstrings of both parents and their daughters. It’s hard to not just post all the lyrics, but here are some of my personal picks from this song: “What happened to the wonderful adventures//The places I had planned for us to go// Well, some of that we did, but most we didn't // And why, I just don't know” and “Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture//And save it from the funny tricks of time (Slipping through my fingers)”

That’s definitely not a complete list of the songs I most enjoy by them, but I figure I rambled enough for a bit. I’m just super excited! I may post more at some point, but if you actually read the whole thing, bless you.