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shadowtriovibes · 1 year

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it's a sign of the times

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: request [paraphrased]: "Rivals-to-lovers Sebastian and MC use a Time-Turner to travel to the future with Ominis in search for a cure for Anne. Instead they find a girl who's the spitting image of MC trying to sneak into the Restricted Section in the 1910s, only she has freckles like Sebastian..."

the 'verse continues in "the train ain't even left the station" [AO3]

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?” At once, the three of you freeze. “Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?” “I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Can you please remind me again why I’m even a part of this harebrained scheme?” you ask for at least the third time.

You’re crouched around a small table in one of the far corners of the upper section of the Library. It’s well past curfew, but since you aren’t technically breaking any rules by avoiding the Restricted Section, you’re currently getting away with your loitering, as do most students who are caught studying after hours this close to final exams.

Only, you’re not studying. You’ve been summoned there by Ominis, who despite being your closest friend at Hogwarts is also a conniving, duplicitous liar who neglected to tell you that this whole thing is Sebastian’s idea.

You watch warily as he turns over a contraband Time-Turner in his hands, inspecting its impossibly small dials and knobs. The golden sands inside the hourglass hypnotically shift back and forth while he reads over its inscriptions and consults the guidebook he’d smuggled out of the Restricted Section earlier that same day.

You have no idea where he managed to get the device – perhaps in one of those vaults along the coast in Cragcroftshire that he’d been exploring during the summer term. However, now he’s got it in his head that perhaps the reason you haven’t been able to heal Anne is that the cure to her curse simply hasn’t been invented yet. Therefore, a quick jaunt several years into the future ought to reveal a way to rid Anne of her illness (and maybe even earn his way back into her good graces).

It’s not the first ludicrous and impractical idea he’s had in the past year, nor will it be the last, but it’s certainly one of the more radical ones.

“Merlin’s beard, I’ve already told you,” Sebastian sighs. “Since we’re going forward in time rather than back, this is an unauthorized use, and in case we get stuck in the future, we might need your ancient magic.”

“So I’m an insurance policy?!” you demand.

“Not so much for Sebastian as for me,” Ominis answers plainly. “He thinks he’s got it all sorted out, but I’m not as sure.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Sebastian interjects.

You huff and roll your eyes. “Need I remind you that using a Time-Turner to go forward is expressly forbidden by the Ministry? It’s only to go back.”

“Loads of people have done it, though,” he argues. “I’ve been reading all about it, it’s well-documented.”

“And they’ve all come back to the present?” you demand.

“Yes,” he snaps. “...For the most part.”

You scoff. Unbelievable.

“Do you two honestly think my magic is just an unlimited get-out-of-Azkaban-free pass?” you hiss. “I have no idea how to manipulate time and space. If we get stuck there, we’re stuck there.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out like you always do,” Sebastian mutters distractedly as he fiddles with the Time-Turner.

You glance at Ominis pleadingly and he just shrugs.

“You know we can’t let him go alone, we’ll never get him back,” Ominis reasons.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you grumble.

Sebastian shoots you a warning look before he holds up the Time-Turner for the both of you to inspect.

“I have it set to jump forward twenty years,” he explains. “We’ll have to get cozy before we go, as we’ve all got to be wearing it. Physically, we’ll land precisely where we are now, at the same time of day.”

“What if the layout of the Library changes?” you ask skeptically.

“The castle hasn’t changed in centuries,” Ominis points out. “Compared to its history, two decades is indeed quite short.”

“...Fine,” you finally mumble. “Go on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

The three of you stand in a tight circle in a spot tucked away behind some shelves, hoping to remain hidden there after you make the jump forward in time. Sebastian drapes the thin gold chain connected to the Time-Turner around the three of you; it even seems to stretch and extend in length to fit. Then he murmurs a brief incantation to the enchanted timepiece and spins the innermost piece a whopping twenty times.

Your stomach lurches while it turns over and the world around you seems to spin out of control, almost like one of those Muggle carousel rides you saw once as a child. You can barely make out years and years of students and professors walking around you – through you, even – and countless books sliding on and off the shelves until everything comes to a sudden halt and you fall straight to the floor.

Ominis and Sebastian tumble with you, winded.

“That felt bizarre,” Ominis wheezes. “Where are we? Did we travel anywhere?”

“N-no,” Sebastian breathes. “Everything else just… traveled around us.”

You glance around the Library and see that as Ominis had suggested, it looks largely the same. There are some newer books among those you recognize on the shelves, their spines less creased and dyed with more vibrant colors than those of your time.

One title jumps out at you: Advances in Practical Conjuring, 1900-1910

We’re in the 1910s, you think bewilderedly. We’re in a new century.

Mercifully, the layout of the library seems to be largely unchanged. Rows and rows of dimly lit stacks stretch along the length of the grand room with two winding spiral staircases leading down to the lower level.

Once you catch your breath, the three of you cast Disillusionment on yourselves and huddle together to make your way downstairs to the Restricted Section. Ominis leads the way with his wand extended to search for any lingering students or restless ghosts, having long since proven that his spatial awareness bests both yours and Sebastian’s even without his sight.

Your trio makes it downstairs and past the first row of shelves before Ominis stops in his tracks. Sebastian collides with him and then you knock into Sebastian, causing you both to hiss some choice words at each other.

“What’s going on?” you demand in a whisper.

“Someone just came in,” Ominis explains. “The librarian is at the desk and she hasn’t noticed, but a student is coming down the stairs.”

Sure enough, across the room you see a faint flicker of light and can just barely make out the outline of a small student sneaking down the main stairs – must be a young one, you think, no more than thirteen.

“I think it’s a girl,” you offer. “I can see her just over there.”

“What’s she doing?” Sebastian whispers.

“I’m not sure yet,” Ominis says carefully. “She’s past the desk, the librarian didn’t see – oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

“What is it?” you breathe.

“She’s going straight for the Restricted Section,” Ominis mutters. “Just our luck, I suppose.”

The three of you remain crouched behind the shelf while you watch the girl creep ever closer to your hiding spot. You’re panicking inside your head, wondering what possible seams of the universe might immediately be torn to shreds if she were to spot the three of you, but thankfully she seems single-minded in her mission to gain access to the locked collection of books across the room from you.

“She’s tiny,” Sebastian snorts. “I suppose the young ones are even more bold in the future.”

“Weren’t you about her age when you first started to sneak into the Restricted Section?” Ominis reminds him.

Sebastian insists, “No, I was fourteen. I didn’t go in until Anne was attacked. She’s got to be twelve at most, maybe even a first year.”

“Will you two be quiet?” you hiss. “She’s going to hear you!”

Across the room, the Disillusioned girl pulls a key out of the pocket of her robes and starts to insert it into the lock. A girl her age wouldn’t have mastered Alohomora yet, you think, nor would it be effective on this kind of lock. You have no idea how she managed to get a copy of the key, however.

“Do you suppose we could just go in after her?” Sebastian proposes. “She’s nearly got it open, we should take advantage of that.”

“Are you mad?” you scoff. “We can’t be in there at the same time, we’ll get caught!”

“So what if some little girl from the future sees us?” Sebastian argues. “Why wouldn’t she believe we’re just students from her time doing our own research?”

But before you can further explain to Sebastian how astonishingly stupid that idea is, the girl across the room gasps softly and drops her key to the floor. In front of her, the lock is glowing red as if it’s searing hot.

That’s a new security development from your time, you think. It’s rather lucky the three of you didn’t discover that the hard way.

Immediately, the young librarian leaps from her seat and hustles across the room to the Restricted Section’s gated entrance much faster than Madam Scribner ever would have.

“Hang on…” you say under your breath. “Is that – that’s Sophronia!”

“Who?” Ominis asks.

“Sophronia Franklin, she’s a fourth-year in our time,” you explain distractedly. “She’s always lingering in the library, of course she takes over for Scribner once we finish school.”

“I know her,” Sebastian chimes in. “Tried to get me to play a game of trivia in exchange for returning a book on curse breaking I’d been waiting for. Rather precocious, I thought.”

You glare at Sebastian and he merely rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way, I was referring to her choice in books,” he grumbles. “Merlin, you’re protective of her.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” you murmur, appreciative of the fact that Sebastian can’t see you blushing. Truthfully, you don’t think much about Sophronia these days, other than that she absolutely cannot catch the three of you in her Library as she’ll easily understand what you’re up to.

Before you can try to convince the boys to call it quits and return to the present, Sophronia rounds the corner and the girl’s Disillusionment charm melts away in surprise.

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

At once, the three of you freeze.

“Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?”

“I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Apologies, Madam,” you hear the girl say with a cheeky lilt to her voice. “I was just looking for a book for my aunt, that’s all.”

Just then, Sophronia leans down to pick up the dropped key and all three of you catch a glimpse of the young girl’s face. She’s probably around twelve, like Sebastian had guessed, but her face… Merlin, she could be your younger sister.

Her slightly-upturned nose is nearly identical to yours, only she’s got a small smattering of freckles across hers. Then there’s her chin, which juts out just a bit like yours does, and you’re too far away to make out the color of her eyes but you’re positive that they’re almond-shaped just like your own.

Now that you think about it, her hair is tied back like you always did with yours when you were younger – braided with a green bow at the end, only her hair is a rich, warm brown color.

“...Is that you?” Sebastian asks softly. “How. How are you doing this?”

“That’s not me, I’m right here,” you remind him.

“Hold on, what am I missing?” Ominis whispers.

“That girl looks exactly like this one,” Sebastian insists. “She’s got her nose, her eyes, her face shape. It’s like there’s a second-year version of her, standing right across from us.”

“We’re twenty years into the future,” Ominis reminds you both. “...What if she’s your daughter?”

You feel like the room is starting to spin around you again, and you find yourself pitching to the side before Sebastian quickly tugs on your arm and pulls you back behind the shelf.

“Do not go daft on us now,” he mutters. “I don’t care if that is your daughter–”

“She’s your daughter too, you know,” Ominis chimes in. “In case you were wondering.”

“Wh… What?” Sebastian stutters, and Ominis gestures for the two of you to listen in.

“Goodness, Miss Sallow,” Sophronia sighs. “You really are so much like your father, always sneaking into the Restricted Section.”

You watch as the girl puffs up her chest proudly, a mischievous smirk on her face that doesn’t strike you as particularly like you at all – but rather Sebastian.

“I’ll gladly take that as a compliment, Madam Franklin,” Anne-Marie says.

“While I respect that you are both voracious consumers of knowledge, he, like you, had little respect for the rules of the Restricted Section,” Sophronia continues. “I’ll have to ask you to leave until you get permission from a professor for relevant research or turn fifteen.”

Anne-Marie is still arguing with the librarian as she’s being escorted out. “Perhaps if you would just let me borrow the book for a while–”

“I’m afraid I’ll also have to give you detention this time,” Sophronia interjects. “I can’t keep looking the other way simply because I owe your mother a favor. This is the third time this term!”

Anne-Marie huffs and folds her arms. “But my godfather–”

“Your godfather is a very busy man who would undoubtedly appreciate it if you spent more time staying out of trouble,” Sophronia finishes, “than trying to emulate your father. In fact, I think Ominis would agree with me that one Sebastian Sallow in this world is quite enough!”

Well, that certainly clears things up.

Sophoronia marches Anne-Marie up the stairs and out of the library. The three of you, having already forgotten your original mission, put your heads together without a word so Sebastian can drape the Time-Turner around your necks and return you to the present.

You collapse in a heap on the library floor, but this time it’s fully empty – even the librarian’s desk light is extinguished. You sit in silence for a few moments, and you and Sebastian don’t dare look at each other. Eventually you force yourself to stand and offer Ominis a hand up, steadfastly ignoring the other boy.

“So,” Ominis finally says, barely concealing his smile. “When exactly is it, do you suppose, that the two of you fall hopelessly in love with each other?”

You both curse at him at the same time, and Ominis throws back his head and laughs.

“Shout at me all you want, but that little girl is proof that the two of you are destined for each other,” he crows. “Oh, how brilliant!”

“Come now, Ominis,” Sebastian says with a nervous laugh. “You don’t seriously think that girl is, what… our child or something?”

“That’s precisely what I think,” Ominous answers, smirking. “You said it yourself, she looks exactly like her mother.”

“Stop!” you interject. “I’m not anyone’s mother, in case you forgot.”

“Perhaps not yet,” Ominis agrees primly. “I imagine it will be several more years before Sebastian makes you one.”

Sebastian goes deeply red while you sputter indignantly.

“Thats – that’s foul, Ominis,” you insist. “It’s untoward to even be talking about this!”

Sebastian folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re that offended by the very idea of us having a child together? I’m hurt.”

“W-well, I just meant that we shouldn’t talk about things that haven’t yet come to pass,” you explain nervously. “Besides, all that is years away. Decades, even.”

Sebastian glances sidelong at you, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way he looks you up and down.

“Right,” he says slowly. “It’s not like we know anything for sure, obviously.”

“Of course,” you agree. “...I don’t suppose you have any other family members named Sebastian? Distant relatives, perhaps?”

“Why?” he drawls. “Looking to snag a cousin of mine so I won’t be the one to father your children?”

You shove him right into one of the bookshelves, but he laughs like he doesn’t regret it one bit.

“Now now,” Ominis murmurs. “You ought to be kind to your future husband, you don’t want to damage his virility.”

“I have half a mind to put a dent in Sebastian’s virility right here and now to save me some trouble later,” you reply, casually aiming your wand at his groin.

“Have you gone mad?!” he stammers as he takes several steps backward. “Put that thing away!”

“Oh, will you please relax?” you sigh. “We just saw one of your descendants, your ability to procreate is in no danger.”

“You could still put me in the Hospital Wing,” he sulks. “Besides, it’s not just procreation that I use it for.”

Ominis snorts. “Unfortunately, I am intimately aware of that.”

You make a face while Sebastian grins cheekily, offering no apology.

The three of you start to make your way toward the exit into Central Hall, ignoring the weak protests of the prefects stationed outside. As you make your way back toward the Slytherin common room, you all fall silent again, lost in your thoughts.

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to forget what you saw, you think. In the future, you have a daughter. Her father is Sebastian Sallow, and… and she’s brilliant. Beautiful, courageous, more than a bit headstrong, and as determined as you both are if not more so.

You catch yourself actually grinning, and when you glance over at Sebastian, you see the same expression on his face.

“Anything you care to share?” you ask him.

“I know we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” he starts, “but there is one thing that girl said that I won’t soon forget.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he admits, “I heard her say she’s looking for a book for her aunt, and you haven’t got any sisters.”

You smile softly and reach for Sebastian’s hand. “No, I don’t.”

He lets you take his hand in his to give a reassuring squeeze.

“She’s still alive,” Sebastian says quietly. “She… she’s still sick, probably. But she’s still alive in the future. She meets my daughter, and she knows her.”

“She does,” you say. “And – and maybe we don’t quite know how that happens yet, but you can have a little faith, Sebastian. Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, and Anne will be with us for a long, long time. There’s still plenty of time to make things right again.”

He nods wordlessly but doesn’t drop your hand.

Just before you arrive at your common room, Ominis stops in his tracks.

“Hang on… Her name, Anne-Marie?” he asks you. “That sounds like something Sebastian would have picked. How generous of you.”

“Aww,” Sebastian laughs. “You must be so in love with me by then to let me pick the name.”

You grit your teeth and ignore them as you murmur the password to the giant stone snake guarding the door, hoping to get some well-earned rest and be rid of these boys for the night.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Sebastian says as he ducks around you and slips inside the door. “I’ll let you pick the name for the second one, and we can duel for rights to the third.”

You go running off after Sebastian and holler, “You bastard Sebastian Sallow, how many damn children are you expecting?!”

Ominis quickly pulls the door shut behind him and shakes his head.

“Godfather,” he mutters to himself. “I’ll never know peace, will I?”

---

[Get to know more of the Sallow kiddos in "the train ain't even left the station" ❤️]

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #my fic #time travel #i tried to stick to time-turner lore as much as possible while completely retconning it #(future) dad!bastian

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3hks · 7 months

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5 Writing Tricks That I ABUSE

Okay, listen up fellow writers! Here is a simple list of a few things I found out when it comes to writing that I ABUSE. And yes, this is for both the new and experienced writers; some may already know these things, but some might not! So let's get into it!

Using a Thesaurus: Most people will probably already know/use this, but a thesaurus is like dictionary, in which instead of looking for definitions, it brings up synonyms (and sometimes antonyms) for your word! It's honestly a LIFESAVER because it's so MUCH easier to find a more sophisticated substitute when using one!

Control + F: If you spend quite some time on PDFs or whatnot, there is a good chance that you know this trick! Control + F allows you to type in a key word/phrase and the document will tell you 1) how many times the word/phrase appeared, and 2) allow you to immediately locate them! This is great when reading because you can quickly find quotes in the book just by typing in a word! However, this is also a GREAT tool when it comes to writing, because as writers, repetitive words are a no-no; but luckily, by using this keybind, you can speedily tell how many times you've used a certain word/phrase!

Control + Backspace: I just recently found this by myself, but I can assure you, it's now instinct for my fingers to jump to the 'control' button whenever I want to delete something! What does this keybind do? Well, instead of deleting one letter at a time, it deletes words at once! It's so much more convenient and accurate than holding down backspace, trust me!

AI Cover Generator: When publishing a work online, you often need a cover to go with your story. However, if you're just like me and cannot draw on your life and/or refuse to use online images because the internet just doesn't have what you need or because of copyright purposes, then AI art generators might be what you're looking for! There are quite some free ones online that you can use--some without even needing to sign up!

Of course, AI art is far inferior to actual, man-made art, but sometimes, what works, works. Despite that, please do not use AI art when trying to paper-publish your work; I only use this when I absolutely NEED a cover in order to upload a story. (Thank you @catfayssoux!)

Note: PLEASE let me know if using AI for this purpose is wrong. I'm not super up-to-date with the do's and don't's regarding artificial intelligence, and I don't want to be spreading out wrong information. This is something that I simply discovered and found useful.

Online Name Generators: Name generators are incredibly useful when you just can't think of a name for something! It doesn't even have to be for a person, but it can even be for a location! If you are writing a fantasy setting and want some unique names, these generators got you covered! And honestly, there are these types of sites for a ton of different purposes and though they aren't perfect, you're bound to eventually find something noteworthy!

As of right, now, these are all that I got! Feel free to share any tips that you might have to your fellow writers! (That would be greatly appreciated!)

Happy writing~

3hks ;]

#writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #creative writing #writing advice #writing tricks #writing tricks I abuse

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sheerfreesia007 · 2 months

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Photographic Evidence

Title: Photographic Evidence

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 891

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, murder

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

He stares at the scene in front of him with a soft frown painted across his face, his eyes darting around the blood trails that lead to their victim who’s splayed out on display in a haphazard way. He’s trying to memorize the scene but there’s just so much to take in that it’s near impossible for him to do. Turning to one of the patrol officers he barks out an irritated question.

“Is CSI on the way?” he snaps and the patrol officer widens his eyes slightly before quickly nodding his head as an answer. Sighing loudly he crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his hip out as he takes in the scene once more.

“Don’t get your panties all twisted, I just got here.” comes the sarcastic tone from behind him and he feels his chest lift with happiness at your arrival. He turns his head to watch you set your CSI case on the floor next to the patrol officer before you quickly survey the scene in front of you. He always loves to watch you work, your attention to detail and how meticulous you are in your work was what originally drew him to you all those years ago when he was a patrol officer.

“Well get in here I need my favorite CSI to document the scene.” he says eagerly and slightly impatiently causing you to roll your eyes at him. He grins knowingly at you as you scoff before taking out your camera and begin to take pictures of the scene. He watches you as you slowly move about the room snapping photos of everything so that the Homicide detectives would be able to see everything even after the scene was cleaned up. He begins to unconsciously follow you around the scene, carefully stepping where you step so that he doesn’t disrupt anything. He knows you can feel him behind you as he follows you, almost becoming something akin to a shadow.

“So now I’m just your favorite CSI?” you ask him teasingly over your shoulder and he scoffs softly at your joke.

“Darling, you know you’re my only CSI.” he responds to you as he steps closer to you needing to feel closer to you. “No one can compare to you.” he whispers in your ear and you send him a bright happy grin before you wink at him as you raise your camera to your eye once more and snap another picture. He feels the happiness burst in his chest at your lowkey flirting before he turns back to the scene. “So do you see anything that jumps out at you?” he asks curiously, wanting to see you saw something that he hadn’t picked on yet.

“Nothing yet Detective Hwang.” you tell him softly before turning swiftly only to come face to face with him. You huff softly at his proximity and press a hand to his chest to push him back out of your space. He frowns softly and leans against your hand making you plant one of your feet behind you before you look up at him. He smirks down at you suddenly and you scoff softly at him before rolling your eyes. “Give me space Detective.” you warn him and his smirk widens at your words.

“You weren’t saying that last night sweetheart.” he teases you softly so that only you can hear.

“Not at work.” you scold him and guilt flashes quickly across his mind before he nods his head and takes a step back to let you pass him. But as you pass him he leans down close to your ear to whisper into it sultrily.

“What time are you gonna be home tonight CSI Hwang?” he watches delightedly as your cheeks heat with a pretty blush.

“Hopefully six. But if you keep pushing it right now I’ll make you wait.” you answer him scornfully and he smirks wickedly at you.

“You wouldn’t dare after last night.” he teases you and you roll your eyes at him.

“Keep it in your pants Hwang. We’re working.” you remind him hastily and he chuckles softly.

“Unfortunately.” he responds before moving back over to the victim as a bloody shoe print had caught his eye and he wanted to take a closer look at it. “Hey CSI Hwang? Can you take a photo of this for me? I need to know the shoe size.” he asked before turning to look at you from his crouched position. His eyes took you in as you walked over to him and pulled out an l square ruler from your vest and placed it down next to the shoeprint before moving back to take the picture a few times before removing the ruler and taking some more pictures.

“Alright, the other CSIs should be on their way to come collect the evidence here. I’ll get back to the office and start downloading the photos for you.” you informed him and he nodded his head as he stood up and turned to you. “See you later Detective Hwang.” you said teasingly to him and he smirked before pecking a kiss to your cheek quickly.

“See you at home darling.” he replied before turning back to the scene already as his mind began to race with possible ideas of what had happened to the victim.

#my writing #stray kids #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #skz x reader #skz

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writercole · 3 months

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A Real Rancher

Summary: A night of relaxing leads to the promise of more. Words: 1366 Warnings: Fluff Credits: None, really. Unbeta'd. A/N: I have no idea where this came from. But it flew out of me last night and I have no regrets. A/N 2: For Becca Bear.

The birth of the last calf brought the total up to fifteen, just this fortnight. The life of a rancher, his life, made Rhett happy. Little moments like the first steps of the tiniest animals that would grow into thousand pound beasts made him smile. But he could admit that the ranch life wasn’t for everyone.

Like the girl who just ghosted him.

Or the one before who said that she couldn’t handle the hours he worked.

Or even the one before that who didn’t like that he smelled like manure when he came in from work.

Women were ridiculous. It’s not like they had to do the work. It’s not like he didn’t shower after he came in. But they used it as an excuse to leave rather than giving him half a chance.

Rhett made sure the heifer and the calf were healthy and cared for before heading back up to the ranch house, looking at the setting sun and deciding he needed a drink. But first, a shower. Maybe two.

As he walked into the dingy dive bar, he immediately noticed a woman at the end of the bar, her glasses low on her nose, a pencil in one hand and what looked like a business document in the other, though that document was about five hundred pages, if he had to guess. He ordered his usual and headed to his usual table, sitting back in the corner and letting the stresses and tensions of the day melt away as he listened to the old juke box across the room and sipped his drink.

Two more rounds and he was feeling great, watching the people in the bar come alone and leave together, passing the time with a spin around the dance floor or giggles in the far corner. He noticed that the woman he’d noticed at first was still there, furiously scribbling notes on her...whatever. Strands of hair fell out of her messy bun and her lip tucked beneath her front teeth. Her brow furrowed and Rhett chuckled.

Her head snapped up and she looked around, eyes locking on Rhett, and jumped off of her stool. He shifted in his seat as he clocked her making a beeline straight to him, suddenly feeling very aware of the fact that he was staring at her. She stopped in front of him at the table and he could see that she wasn’t angry, she was curious.

“Are you a rancher?” She rushed out.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Like a real rancher, not one of those preppy boys whose daddy owns a lot of cattle but has people who do the work for them. You’re the one who does the work?”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” he replied, his own brow furrowing beneath his stetson. “I’m Rhett Abbott. My family’s own the ranch for generations now.”

“Oh, good,” she sighed as she pulled out a chair across from him, “can I ask you some questions? Oh, shoot, my pencil.” She patted her pockets and checked behind her ears, coming up empty handed.

“Um, ma’am? It’s in your hair?” Rhett said, pointing at her bun.

“Oh!” She exclaimed as she pulled it out of the space he pointed at.

“Can I ask what these questions are for?”

“Well, I’m writing a book and this one character is a rancher and I just don’t think I’ve gotten him right and – oh shit. How do I keep losing everything?”

“You left the...book? On the bar.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” she told him before rushing across the room and grabbing the papers she’d been making notes on.

Rhett was entirely entranced with this woman. He’d never met a writer before, not that Wabang had a great intellectual population to begin with.

She sat back at the table and flipped her notebook to a clean page, writing his name across the top before returning her gaze to him.

“It’s two t’s,” he pointed out.

“Huh?”

“Abbott. It’s two b’s, two t’s,” he explained, gesturing to his name written across her page.

“Oh, sorry.”

“S’okay,” he shrugged. “So these questions?”

“This guy works on a ranch and he’s got to do cow stuff and I don’t know the first thing about being on a ranch or cows or anything like that and I was hoping that you could maybe, possibly, tell me about the stuff you do for cows?” She spoke quickly, like she was expecting him to get bored with her voice in the time it took for her to ask her question.

“That’s a pretty broad question,” he laughed, “do you have anything more specific?”

“No,” she sighed. “Like I said, I don’t know the first thing about being on a ranch or anything. The closest I’ve come to a cow is the petting zoo.”

Rhett gestured for another round for the two of them and settled back against the wall. “Well, darlin, let’s get you learned.”

The pair of them spent the rest of the night talking, only realizing how long it had been when the lights came up and the bartender announced last call. Their topics had drifted from the work on the ranch to much more personal topics. He learned that she had quit her job and moved to Wabang to follow her dreams of writing a contemporary romance set in the west. When he questioned why she had to move out to the absolute sticks to do that, she looked down at the table.

“No one supported me. They thought I was wasting my time writing. It was never a worthy career path because who wants to read a book anymore,” she admitted quietly.

Rhett felt more emotion flow through him in that moment than he had since Amy had disappeared. He was pissed at people who told her it was a waste of time, sorry for her feeling like she had no one, hopeful that she would give him half a chance. “Well, if it makes any difference, I think you’re doing an amazing thing.”

“Really?” She asked, her face going from dejection to elation in an instant. Her shoulders squared and her eyes lit up, as if she was hearing someone tell her positive things for the first time.

“Yeah. It’s not easy to follow your dreams, especially when they lead you away from the people you care about,” he spoke from experience, “and to do something like writing a book...man, that takes guts and brains and all kinds of stuff I definitely don’t have.”

“But...you ride bulls?”

“That doesn’t take any brains, darlin. In fact, it takes a distinctive lack of brains and self preservation.”

“Um, no,” she countered. “That takes so much brains, Rhett.”

“Hey, you two, we’re closing,” the bartender called across the otherwise empty room.

“Can I drive you back to your room?” Rhett asked as he stood.

“It’s a short walk. I’m next door,” she shrugged sadly.

“Well, how about I leave you my number and you can call me with your questions. Maybe come by the ranch tomorrow and see how things go?”

“Can I pet the cows?!”

“I’ll make sure to keep them in the barn just for you,” he grinned. He wrote his number down on her book and offered his arm, escorting her to the small inn next door.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“I’ll make sure to answer.”

“Goodnight, Rhett. It was really nice to meet you,” she said with a wave, walking through the thick, wooden door into her temporary accommodations.

Rhett watched until the door clicked shut, walking backwards to his truck just in case she came back down. A light turned on in a room over his head as he opened the door and his glance shot up in time to see her pull back the curtain and peek outside, waving when she caught him staring. He waved back, watching until she dropped the curtain before he climbed into his truck.

The idea to sleep in the parking lot crossed his mind for half a second before he started the engine, turning his truck towards home. He had an early date with a writer. The cows had to be ready.

#writercole #cole writes #rhett abbott #fluff #lewis pullman

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aces-and-angels · 7 months

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wip wednesday ✨

hello friends~ first, ty @mydemonsdrivealimo @jerzwriter and @cadybear420 for tagging me in today's festivities. i have two ongoing works that i desperately want to fully release into the the wild, but they aren't ready (yet). edits and re-edits are a biatch 😭

anyways here's the opening scene to what i've been working on: a (very) belated bday fic for wind (oc: @oh-so-youre-a-nerd)🖤

---

McGraw Byrne; early morning…

It’s just a day. A set of numbers written in the margin. Yet Wind purposefully keeps their desk calendar flipped to February. A thick black line ran down the center of the rows, crossing each date off. It’d be a dream to be able to cross off today entirely. But they can't.

Amalia saves them first.

“Mx. Velez, I know you’re busy with that case for Landon, but can you-”

“Yes,” they say all too quickly.

Amalia blinks, perplexed by their eagerness. “You don’t even know what I’m about to ask for yet.”

“Does that matter? You know I’d do anything for one of my favorite paralegals.” Their desperate need for distraction aside, the sentiment was sincere. Without her, completing any case would be nearly impossible.

“Wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but I’ll take it,” she breathes with a hint of a smirk on her lips. “Hopefully you’ll still hold that sentiment after this conversation.”

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s a bit… Es una tontería, de verdad,” she warns, absently toying with the hem of her wine red blazer.

Noticing her nerves, Wind pushes their notebook aside, giving her their undivided attention. “Amalia, no te preocupes, puedes decirme lo que pasa.”

The warmth and reassurance in their tone does something to soothe her nerves as her hand noticeably stills. “Mr. Vanderweil tasked me with redacting these documents yesterday. Simple, right?”

“I’d say so.”

“I thought so too, but then I had issues loading the PDFs on my computer, so I…” she pauses, sucking in a breath. “Took an alternative approach.”

“What kind of approach?”

“Converting all the files to Word docs so I could highlight all the info in black instead of contacting IT like I should have,” she spews out so hastily they barely manage to catch it. But they do- and how their stomach drops to the floor.

A twinge of panic laces through their voice, revealing a crack in their otherwise calm demeanor. “Amalia-”

“I know- I know,” she laments, rushing up to the foot of their desk. “Ryan already told me how wrong that was half an hour ago. Which is why I haven’t uploaded anything yet.”

“Oh, thank God,” they sigh in relief, visibly slumping into their chair. “This’ll be easy to fix then.”

“Except it won’t be because Mr. Vanderweil wanted this done before the partner meeting and he’ll definitely chew me out when he learns that it isn’t.” Whatever nerves were kept at bay came back in full force. She began pacing, her heels scuffing up the floors beneath her with every anxious step.

Wind moves to block her path, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder “Amalia,” they say gently, careful not to agitate her further. “Inhala. Exhala.”

Their eyes lock onto each other. Her deep, slightly quivered breaths match their steady ones. In and out. “Better?”

She nods. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it. Now, how many documents still need to be redacted?”

“I managed to fix about half of them, but there's still over a hundred pages left.”

The wheels in their head spun, formulating a plan. “Okay- here's what we'll do: forward the files to me. I'll take the first 50 or so, you get the rest. Can Ryan pitch in? That would really speed things up”

“He would've, but he's tied up with logging discovery for Ms. Tanaka,” she groans.

“That's fine, we can manage on our own.”

“Are you sure? Even with help, it'll take some time.”

“Positive. Hand the files over. We've got work to do.”

---

tagging @choicesmc @saibug1022 + whoever else sees this and wants to jump in

#im in that unfortunate phase where i'm nitpicking everything #playchoices #choices #wip wednesday #wind velez #into the windverse #amalia de león #laws of attraction #ilw #it lives within #fanfic #wip

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checkoutmybookshelf · 4 months

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Rereading The Fellowship of the Ring for the First Time in Fifteen Years

The previous chapter was all grouchy wizards and atmospheric walking...and this one opens with the return of Professor Tolkien medieval literature scholaring all over the page. So let's just jump in and talk "The Bridge of Khazad-Dum."

So finding the tomb of a comrade always sucks, but context is EXTREMELY required in such cases. Unfortunately, this is the moment where Professor Tolkien rears his ugly head once again. I'm a Shakespeare scholar, and moreover I was a Shakespeare scholar at a reasonably broke school in Alaska, so I designed my thesis to not require me to go look at extant original texts. When I got to my PhD, some fuckery at an administrative level meant that when my first supervisor retired, I was dumped into the lap of a film scholar, so my dissertation because EXTREMELY about film adaptations. So I don't have firsthand experience with extant historical documents and texts, but I am aware of the process. As an undergrad, I once questioned why my text said "safety" while another text said "sanity" (and was very scoffed at before the professor actually understood the question, because I phrased it poorly). The good answer though?

Extant texts from Shakespeare's day and older are PLAGUED with slipperiness that makes them difficult to read and reproduce. They come from a time before standardized spelling, and printers often weren't that careful setting type. If they come from before the printing press, you have issues with handwriting legibility and misspellings. Then there are issues with extant documents being damaged or torn or missing pages or faded by the time we get to them, especially if they've been in private hands without the experience to properly preserve them. So the difference between "safety" and "sanity" was some editor or academic's educated guess because they had a word that started with "s," ended in "y," and was probably about six letters.

Tolkien, as a scholar with an interest in medieval texts, would have understood these issues because I'd be willing to bet hard cash that his academic work required using primary sources and original extant texts. And I'm willing to bet that because we get EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN ONE OF THESE ISSUES with the Book of Mazarbul. In no particular order, here are the issues Gandalf calls out while trying to read this thing:

multiple pages are missing from the beginning

blurred words

burned words

staining (probably blood)

edged blade damage

deteriorated pages that break off

shitty handwriting

partially visible words and guesswork that goes with it

a total lack of context for any of the words you CAN make out

This book is every book scholar's worst goddamn nightmare, because you'll never recreate the whole thing, your guesses are likelier to be wrong than right, and if you don't have plot armor preserving the important stuff, you might literally end up with a description of someone's breakfast but nothing else.

I will say though, there's one thing in here that Tolkien SHOULD have been familiar with in extant texts that isn't represented here. Marginalia. Humans were humans even in the 11-1400s, and scribes and apprentices got bored while copying out books by hand. They doodled. They wrote snarkastic comments in the margins. They had to scratch things out and redo. They had cats around and sometimes little paw prints are found in old manuscripts. Like...ancient books had personality. I get where the dwarves might not have done this in their log book, especially towards the end, but I would have loved some marginalia too.

Because the first few pages of this chapter feel less like Gandalf reading the final account of the attempted Moria colony to me and more like Professor Tolkien having a moment because WHY IS THIS GODDAMN PAGE MISSING I JUST NEED THIS ONE PAGE BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, ITS FUCKING MISSING...

Academia some days, I swear.

But we get knocked out of the academic and into the adventurous pretty fast when the drums in the deep start tolling "doom, doom." And everyone loses their goddamn minds, as any reasonable person would, because we just finished hearing about the dwarves being trapped while the drums in the deep boomed.

Aragorn isn't going down without a fight though. He and Boromir get their asses on securing the door from which the immediate danger will come, with a bit of an assist from Frodo and Sting when some ballsy Uruk puts a foot through the door.

We also get badass good guy Samwise Gamgee:

When thirteen had fallen the rest fled shrieking, leaving the defenders unharmed, except for Sam who had a scratch along the scalp. A quick duck had saved him; and he had felled his orc: a sturdy thrust with his Barrow-blade. A fire was smouldering in his brown eyes that would have made Ted Sandyman step backwards, if he had seen it.

Our boy took out an ORC all on his own!!! Sam is more than capable of taking care of business and apparently he gets scary when you back him in a corner. I entirely approve, and I cannot believe we didn't get this in the movie. GIVE ME SAM SINGLE-HANDEDLY TAKING OUT AN ORC, PETER JACKSON!!!

We also get an Orc chieftain stabbing the hell out of Frodo, which was an honor given to the cave troll in the movies. This goes by pretty fast though, even for a Tolkien battle. It's kind of a one-two stab and grab before everyone makes a run for it. We do get Sam freeing Frodo by chopping the spear haft in half, but if you're reading quickly, it's easy to miss that this should ABSOLUTELY have killed Frodo. The language is pretty clear that it doesn't, and Tolkien only kind of tokenly tries a fake-out death here, since we literally just got the mithril reminder at the end of the last chapter. But I guess technically we get a fake-out death here.

It is very quickly confirmed that Frodo is alive though, with everyone being like, "Wait, you're NOT dead?" and Aragorn and Gandalf both going, "jesus christ, hobbits are tough as nail."

As we keep running from the hordes of Orcs, Uruks, and cave trolls, things start to get hot and there is firelight in places firelight SHOULD EXTREMELY NOT BE. But it does cue Gandalf about where they are, and he points everyone toward the titular Bridge of Khazad-Dum, and the exit. Now it's just a matter of hauling ass and getting out.

Unfortunately, when Legolas turns around to shoot some bitches and buy time, this happens:

Something was coming up behind them. What it was could not be seen: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which a dark form, of man-shape, maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in and to go before it. It came to the edge of the fire and the light faded as if a cloud had bent over it. Then with a rush it leaped across the fissure. The flames roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoked swirled in the air. It's streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs. "Ai! ai [sic]!" wailed Legolas. "A Balrog!"

And I just need to take a second here, because like I've said, I was more familiar with the movies than the book. And I just need Tolkien to EXPLAIN HIS DAMN SELF with this description. It's maybe man-shaped, but it has a mane? Like that does give adapters a lot of room to get creative, but WHERE THE HELL DID THEY GET HORNED SHEEP LAVA THING from??? Because that ain't in the text. I do love the drama of this description though. Like, the Balrog knows it's freaking magnificent and is going to play to all the drama that being wreathed in fire and smoke gives it. Which...ngl, I love for it. This thing is damn cool.

And I appreciate that we have FINALLY met a foe that makes Gandalf just kind of stop and go "...fuck me." Because he was starting to feel a bit OP and bored, and now he's taking it seriously, which means I as a reader should be FUCKING TERRIFIED right now, and I appreciate that.

From there, this goes down basically as the movie does, with the sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight deviation that Aragorn and Boromir get BACK on the bridge to have Gandalf's back, so they're like, within arm's reach of him as the Balrog falls and drags Gandalf down with it. But even the dialogue was lifted almost exactly from the page, so I don't feel like I need to go over this bit in much detail. It's badass, it's tragic, and it happens FAST.

And then, of course, everyone else has to haul ass out of there because the Balrog just took out your OP wizard with a flick of its wrist.

So they run, and they run a LOT for a LONG time. They run until they're out of bow-shot of the walls. And as readers, we are left with this final image:

They looked back. Dark yawned the archway of the Gates under the mountain-shadow. Faint and far beneath the earth rolled the slow drum-beats: doom. A thin black smoke trailed out. Nothing else was to be seen; the dale all around was empty. Doom. Grief at last wholly overcame them, and they wept long: some stand and silent, some cast upon the ground. Doom, doom. The drum-beats faded.

So my little headcanon here? Those drumbeats stop being harbingers of doom in that final paragraph and transform to metaphorical heartbeats for Gandalf. We know--because Pippin established it--that falls in Moria can be LONG. They take a while. The Fellowship got out of immediate danger range, and Gandalf could still have been falling. But all they have to go on is those faint, distant, slow drum-beats. The heartbeat/drumbeat comparison is so easy it's not a reach, and when they finally fade and stop, the sense is that there is nothing else for the army of evil to attack. That is--as far as anyone knows or can reasonably assume--the end of Gandalf. It's the literary equivalent of a jump cut and sudden stop of the drumroll in film execution scenes. It cues everyone that something has ended.

Well, this chapter was ABSOLUTELY not more atmospheric walking, and even though it cost us our wizard, I appreciated the tension, the fear, and the pacing in the chapter at large. The mix of breakneck action and still or slow moments to let everyone react or comment was really well done, and finally having something that actually managed to shake Legolas and Gandalf was genuinely scary.

We're going to leave it there for now, and next time we'll pick up with the aftermath of almost getting eaten by a Balrog and losing the mentor wizard of the party. We've only got four more chapters to go, so let's see what the pacing and party dynamics do as we head for Lothlorien sans wizard.

#reread #the fellowship of the ring #the lord of the rings #lotr #the bridge of khazad-dum #fantasy books #books and reading #books #books and novels

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twst-drabbles · 10 months

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Your Jade piece is fun, I got a lot of laughs while reading it. I have a question: How did you practice writing and description? I enjoy your writing style immensely, and I want to improve my own.

I have a couple of things that I do.

Hmm okay so there's this mental rule that I have whenever I'm writing. Basically if I want to describe the emotion of a character, I don't use the exact word that describes that emotion. Let me give an example.

So, say there's a character that you know is feeling happy because they're going to the carnival. You don't say, "She's jumped around happily," you say, "There's a spring to her step, as though she's about to jump on the nearest counter as she bobbed up and down." You kinda have to walk around the exact emotion via figuring out what actions they use to express themselves when they're feeling a certain way.. This rule is specifically for if you want to linger just the slightest bit longer on a character's state of emotion. If it's an action scene or you're trying to quickly get from plot point A to plot point B, then you can go on ahead with doing that.

Whenever I'm writing, I also sort of imagine myself as this 'ghost' in the scene, right behind the shoulders of my audience. My ghost self is floating in the air, knowing what's going to unfold but you don't, so I tell it to you all the while just, chilling there. I have no worries because I know how it's going to all end.

Whenever there's an opportunity for people to read out loud, often I'm the one that everyone else chooses because they love the sound of my voice. Because of that, I end up noticing a certain "flow" to paragraphs. Some books are clumsier than others in their word flow and others are silky smooth. It's not something I can give a definitive set of rules to, it's something you have to learn on your own. So, when you can, read my stuff out loud to yourself, then read your own stuff out loud.

Another thing that I do that helps me with writing is to find a book or fanfiction that has that writing style I like. I have a small collection at the ready but I'm not going to share it because, uh, yeah they're dark. I don't pick the fic or book apart actually, I just read through it, take in the mood it gives me and just, write my stuff out.

There's this exercise I used to do before I got bored of it was basically slowly focusing in on an object. You describe the outside, then you focus in on a neighborhood, then you focus on a house, then a section of the house, then a room and finally an object. A slow zooming in, you're walking or floating there. You can also do the opposite of slowly focusing out. I find that it has helped me with figuring out how to set the speed in a story. I don't like being too quick, because I don't like my stuff to feel too fleeting.

Oh and have a document or notepad at the ready dedicated for just, blabber stuff. When there's too much noise in my head and I really want to write, I end up typing down my barest, baaaaarest attempt at a story. It's entirely missing in context, little description, and just not good stuff. But it's stuff I have to scrape out of my head. And they have no pattern. Sometimes it's 2nd POV stuff, and then it hard cuts to mutterings like "alright, there stuff in my head and there's noise and ho boy is everything too clouded for me. Could go for a sweet drink but I don't want to get up or do anything honestly but if I don't write I'll never will and there's no way I'm losing my passion for writing again." So, rambles. Yeah have a note or something dedicated to rambles before you start writing, especially if you're the kind that gets this "head noise" like I do. Just, the static fuzzes right up in the brain. And even if you still can't come up with anything after all that, then you're good, because you wrote something. In a stream of consciousness kind of way. Which is also another writing style.

But, yeah that's about all the things I did while through the years. Unfortunately, there's no quick or easy fix for this, it's just writing even if it feels like work. And if writing starts to feel like genuine torture, as in you end up in a spot of self-loathing every time you write but find that you can't, you probably have to put the pen down, or put that rage against an empty page. If you can't write about anything, may as well write about yourself that you'll probably not show to anyone. Get into the nitty-gritty, get into the nasty bits about it. The story may be missing in your head, but your existence isn't void of one. You're kinda living it now, may as well place a bit of it on a page.

#admin #nrclutter

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ask-de-writer · 11 months

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A QUIET EVENING : MLP Fan Fiction

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A QUIET EVENING

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

1208 words

Writing begun 10/01/19

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Possible triggers: graveyard with real ghosts and such. CMC

As they caught sight of Bonnie, poking her head through the door of her family crypt, the three began to back slowly away. Sweetie Belle whispering to the other two, “Now? Now you listen to me? I told you that coming here was a bad idea.”

Scootaloo replied, “It is not like we are even breaking any sort of rule. It is still daytime. The cemetery gate isn’t locked yet or anything.”

Bonnie, her cloudy white fur and black mane contrasting well with the aged oak of the crypt door actually agreed. “You don’t need to act frightened. The orange filly is right. You have not broken any sort of rules by being here in the daytime, even on the eve of Nightmare Night. I’m afraid that we don’t have any sort of treats for you, though.”

Cautiously, Apple Bloom pointed out, “We might not be quite so cautious if you weren’t about half out of that door while it’s still closed. Are you some kind of ghost?”

Bonnie looked back in confusion while she stepped free of the crypt. “No, I’m not a ghost or anything like that. The ones here are my friends but I’m not one of them. I am as alive as you are. Why would anypony need to open a door? What does that have to do with going through it?”

The CMC looked at each other blankly. Apple Bloom pointed, “Are you SURE that you are alive? See those hinges and lock? Normal ponies need to unfasten the lock and then they can open the door to go in.”

Comprehension dawning on her face, Bonnie observed, “So that’s what those things are for! I always wondered. Before I learned to use a door properly, Zom or Junea always let me out. I was little then and did not really pay attention.”

The CMC looked at each other in mild consternation. “Who did you say taught you about using doors?”

Bonnie shrugged, “You know, just the ghosts and my other playmates. Who else would?”

Pausing, she gave the CMC the old steely eye. “Exactly what are you doing here?”

Scootaloo looked down and scuffed the grass before she replied, “We heard that Morgripe and his buddies were planning to mess up some graves. That’s wrong. We kinda planned to set them up a sort of haunted graveyard. We got springs and sheets to do fake ghosts that could jump out from behind gravestones. You know, stuff like that. Don’t want to hurt them, just scare them off so that they don’t damage anything.”

Bonnie perked right up! “Oh, that will be so much fun! I would love to help you! I have some friends that would like to help too! The Nightmare Moon is already up, so they can come out to join us!”

Sweetie Bell looked up at the gibbous moon lurking high in the sky and at the nearly set sun. “Doesn’t the sun have to be down before, um, your buddies can come out?”

“No, silly! They all follow the Night Mare. As long as she is up, we can play! They just usually wait until her sister goes down, that’s all.”

Bonnie bounced happily over to a big mausoleum, and stuck her head through the door! The CMC could not hear anything through the heavy stone and solid door.

Bonnie cheerfully came back and told them, “Wait here! I am going to see if Flowering Ash or any of the other Ancient Ones want to help!”

She galloped off towards the back of the cemetery, where it faced the Everfree forest.

Apple Bloom watched her go. She wondered in a soft voice, “Are Ma and Pa here? Will they be helping us?”

Sweetie Belle was watching critically and replied, “I don’t know, Apple Bloom, but Bonnie just jumped past the wall and it is sort of tumbldown and moss grown. I have been here before and the back wall was not like that.”

In only a few moments Bonnie came floating serenely back, her legs folded neatly under her as if she were resting on something invisible. She alighted in front of them and exulted, “We are getting two unicorn litches and Flowering Ash to come help! We are getting some ghosts too!

“When Flowering Ash gets here, show us how to help and where to set your “haunts!” The whole graveyard thinks that this is hilarious!”

It was only a few moments before they saw the head of a beautiful gray mare across the moss grown wall. She reared up, forelegs folded and crossed the wall, her forelegs remaining folded as her huge snakelike body slithered across the stones and undulated swiftly to them.

While the CMC were watching the lamia, their eyes bugged out, two mostly skeletal unicorn litches leaped gracefully over the wall as well.

With all gathered, Flowering Ash wrapped her long body about the CMC, providing them with a comfortable resting place. Bonnie, with absolute confidence, joined them in her coils.

Flowering Ash, smiled and suggested, “Please tell us what we need to know to help you set up this trap of frights for those vile vandals.”

Eagerly, Scootaloo dug into a big saddlebag and pulled out parts! As she set a spring mounted to a cross stick, Apple Bloom pulled out a sheet, bound around soft straw with big googly eyes stuck on! Sweetie Belle attached trigger strings and set stakes to hold them where hooves would trip them!

Giggling, Bonnie stomped one of the demonstration “ghost's” trigger strings! The false haunt leaped up, driven by the spring! It fluttered down flat, except for the bulbous head. Suddenly it lifted up and floated about, flapping a little.

The CMC clapped hooves in delight! “A real ghost in our fake one! That is so perfect!”

They guided the whole group to the area where they had overheard Morgripe and his buddies plotting to cross the cemetery wall. Choosing tombstones and other grave markers with care, the whole group planted the phony ghosts to provide the best scares.

Thoughtfully, they planted some near the graveyard gate, too. While they were doing that, Sweetie Belle noticed, “I guess that we are stuck here for the night. They have locked the gate already.”

Apple Bloom felt the softest of hugs and a gentle neck kiss. Almost like a breeze, her mane got ruffled. Her eyes misted up. “That you, Mom? Dad? Thanks.”

Flowering Ash pointed out, “If you are here when things happen, it will spoil the effect. Here, let me help.”

One by one, she held the CMC and lifted them over the wall, setting them gently on their hooves and pulling back to her massive coils for the next.

The next morning, all of Ponyville was abuzz with the story! Morgripe and his friends had done it again! They came running over their ladder screaming about ghosts and monsters in the graveyard! Constables opening the gate had got a bit of a fright too, as spring trap “ghosts” jumped out at them!

Morgripe and Co. were in trouble again! And the CMC, giggling behind their hooves could not say anything about their Nightmare Night adventure that actually worked like it was supposed to!

~THE END~

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#MLP Fan Fiction #A QUIET EVENING #Written by De Writer #Tales to read AFTER the Lights are OUT

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caroline18mars · 6 months

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A Man On Fire - Chapter 86

It was like she had the wind knocked out of her, court? Neglect and abuse? So now the tables were turned on her? They were treating her like a criminal..her own parents, or no, she wasn’t even family anymore, they had officially disowned her..Jared, she needed to call him, she needed to hear his voice telling her that everything would be ok..in his arms she would feel ok again…in his arms she could find comfort and not feel like she was the loneliest person alive. Her whole body felt numb and she barely had the strength anymore to hold the document, the words on the letter danced before her eyes “will that be all? Can I go now?” she breathed and the lawyer nodded. Her high heeled boots could barely carry her as she swayed out of the elevator, her phone, she needed to call someone, anyone, her vision blurred by tears she ignored all the notifications and pressed the first name that came up in her contacts, her brother, it couldn’t possibly be true what her parents had said about him, that he was in on this whole scheming and framing, “Arno?” her heart jumped as the line connected, why didn’t he say anything? “Arno, devo parlarti”. But all she heard was ‘mi dispiace, mi dispiace Coco” and a dry click followed, WHAT???? NOOOOOO, please god NOOOO, you can’t leave me, you can’t!!! sobbing uncontrollably her phone clattered to the hard concrete outside, no, please work..please please, she picked up her dead phone but no matter how hard she pushed the button, the phone just wouldn’t jump back to life, where could she go, what could she do? She didn’t know Jared’s number by heart, ok focus, focus goddammit Coco!

On the other side of the world a plane was setting in the landing for Sydney, by now he was out of his mind with worry, no call, no text, no mail from her or her brother, something was wrong, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. As soon as the plane touched down, he got absorbed by the hussle and bussle of getting out of the airport as soon as possible.

I can’t stay here in NY, I just can’t, I need to see Jared, I need to be with him, this was the right decision, Coco, her mind was racing while she swiped her credit card through the machine. “OK, Miss, here’s your boarding card, hurry the plane will start boarding shortly, gate 18” the man behind the counter pointed her in the right direction. How she got through customs so quick she didn’t know, her feet were killing her from all the running she had done but miraculously she ended up at the gate just in time, here went absolutely nothing, as the airplanedoor was closed right behind her

”No news?” Shannon came walking into his brother’s room, “nothing” it was the despair in his voice that got to him, “I wouldn’t worry too much, her battery’s flat or something, you know how she is, she never owned a phone before you came along, what time is it in the States? Maybe she’s gone straight to bed, I’m sure you’ll hear from her in the morning”, it was endearing how his brother tried to put his mind at ease, but he knew better, something was wrong, this was gonna be a long night..hopefully his jetlag would give him some solace. “I hope so” he sighed “I really hope so”.

”Miss, are you ok, you haven’t touched any of your food”, the flight attendant took away her tray “I’m just not hungry” she forced a weak smile, thank god for business class, the little bit of attention she got made her feel a little bit less alone. “I’m sorry, but I dropped my phone and I can’t seem to get it back to life anymore, and I really need to contact my…my boyfriend” maybe the flight attendant was a little bit more tech savvy than she was. “Can I have a try?” the girl gently asked and she quickly handed her the phone, but no matter how much she pushed the button, the screen remained black “if you know your boyfriend’s number then we can send him a message, or maybe an email”. Coco bit her lip and shook her head, how the hell was she gonna find him? This was like looking for a needle in a haystack, what had she done? She was lost and alone and completely helpless, she could feel her heart breaking into a million little pieces knowing that she no longer was part of a family, she was not enough, never was and never would be again, her past had been taken from her and actually so was her future. They had made the world a lot more hollow for her by the stroke of a pen, all gone, all done, never looking back.

Hours and hours later, she was standing in the midst of Sydney airport, everyone in a rush to get to their destinations, her fingers fondled the dead phone in her pocket, ok, think, there’s what seems to be a phoneshop, go buy yourself a new phone, these guys would definitely be able to help her find Jared’s number, ok come on, don’t be shy, oh who am I kidding? Come on, so what if they call you a tech retard?. “Hello, can I help you?” a young man approached her with the typical smooth sales smile, “I hope so, my phone doesn’t work anymore, I was hoping that you could maybe fix it?” she hesitantly showed him her tattered phone. “Fix it?” he huffed “we have an entire wall here of brand new phones, Android or iPhone, which one would you prefer, do you have everything stored in your Cloud? Do you use e-sim,.” What? A cloud, android? Sim? Her cheeks going bright red she stammered, “it’s ok, I’ll wait, thanks for your time though” all embarrassed and ashamed of herself, she quickly beelined it out of the shop. She was tired, jetlagged, hungry and thirsty and she missed Jared, ok think, think for god’s sakes..what hotel was he staying in? nope, she didn’t remember, how many hotels could this city have? I’ll do this the old fashioned way then. ”Where to, Miss?” the cabdriver asked her, “every 4 or 5 star hotel in Sydney that you can think of”

Everywhere she went, she was frowned upon or ignored or even kindly requested to leave the hotel premises, they all thought she was a stupid fan trying to sneak into the hotelroom of her idol. He seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth, “no luck?” the cabdriver asked as she got back in and shook her head, “you know, these stars they never use their own name to book a room, it’s always some kind of Disney or cartooncharacter, you know” he casually steered the car back into the heavy traffic. Oh great, a Disney character, no way, he would never do that, oh god, her mind just felt so incredibly numb, it felt like she had been travelling forever, would this goddamn nightmare just end? Despite the cab driver’s good advice of using Disney characters names, she was still frowned upon and requested to leave, she got out of the cab, this was the last hotel on the list, if this didn’t work, then she would get herself a room here, get some sleep and then fly back..home..there was no home for her anymore, ok yes her apartment in New York but just thinking about NY and her parents who would still be there made it another no-go zone for her.

”Welcome to the Park Hyatt hotel, how can I help you?” the receptionist gave her a beaming smile, “Hi, I’m looking for someone who is possibly staying here with you, his name is Jared Leto, I’m his girlfriend and I would join him here in Australia, but my phone is broken and now there’s no way I can reach him..” The receptionist interrupted her “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to give any information on our residents”, so once again the same blabla.. “I know, and I understand, but this is an emergency..I know he’s probably not listed under Leto but I really need to see him, he’s expecting me” she was getting desperate knowing that this was her last chance, for fuck’s sakes Leto, are you even in Australia or was that just some excuse to get rid of me too, Cubbins?. “I’m sorry, Miss, like I said, I really can’t give you any info..” he rattled but she quickly breathed “Cubbins, Bart, Bartholomew Cubbins” all of a sudden it dawned on her that this might be the name he was registered under. “Just a moment, and your name is?” oh my god, bingo, he was actually here? “Harper Coco De Robiano d’Arcy” saying her name out loud, realizing the horror and the emptiness behind it, gave her a foul taste in her mouth. The receptionist gestured for her to take a seat in the lobby and went to another more private desk to make his call.

Jared’s heart was doing summersaults in his chest as he hammered the elevator button, she was here, she was finally here, he had been out of his mind with worry, it didn’t matter anymore, his lover, the love of his life had kept her promise. It took so long, Harper hung her head, the receptionist still hadn’t returned to his desk, what if he wasn’t here either? and now she had paid the cabdriver and let him go. Jared jumped out of the elevator, his eyes scanning the huge lobby, front desk nothing to be seen, his heart stopped beating for a second, when his eyes finally found her in a huge chair, completely lost in her own thoughts. “Coco..!!” she heard her name echo around the lobby, oh god, he was here and she shot up from her seat and ran straight into his open arms

”You’re here, you’re finally here, I love you so so so so much, babe!!!” he held her tight, he could even feel her hammering heart through his shirt, his hungry lips locked with hers in a much overdue and fiery kiss. In between kisses, he kept on whispering his love for her, “come on, let’s go to my room, I don’t need this audience” he grinned as he slowly let go of her and she noticed the staring eyes in the lobby. She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the receptionist who had been willing to enable their reunion and followed Jared to the elevator where she pushed herself against him, she had so needed him, crawling into his arms again in complete silence, just knowing that they were together again was enough.

"I still can’t believe you’re here, I tried calling you, texting, sending you e-mails, what happened?” he closed the door of his penthouse suite behind her, he wanted to throw her on the bed straight away, but something was going on, he could see and feel it, she was so lost in her own thoughts all the way up her. “I dropped my phone, it won’t switch on again, I tried but I couldn’t remember your number, and that guy at the airport tried to sell my a new phone, but I just…I’m just too stupid for all that new technology and then I didn’t know what hotel you were staying at, and I’ve been in every hotel looking for you, but they didn’t believe me and I..” she rattled, fishing her phone out of her purse as if to prove it, “I’m sorry, Jared, I’m so sorry” all the stress and all the madness suddenly caught up with her and she just couldn’t hold back the tears that came streaming down her face. “Hey, shhhhh it’s ok, don’t cry” he held her again, what the hell had happened? This was not some normal release of a little bit of stress, there was more to it than that, “come on, let’s sit you down” he guided her over to the couch “what happened, tell me, this is not about your phone..how did things go with your parents?” he let go of her and poured her a drink, the minute he mentioned the word ‘parents’ he noticed her freeze up completely. This was going to be a long night, but he had time, why did he convince her to go see her parents when it obviously did more bad than good?

#jared leto #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #fanfic #30 seconds to mars #30 seconds to mars fanfic #fanfiction #fic #30 seconds to mars fanfiction #30 secondstomars fanfic #a man on fire #chapter 86

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lumpsbumpsandwhumps · 8 months

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I got a bit confused because the wife gave a few hints and tips on who to kill, so I assumed she was another serial killer but the running part is so right-

The closeness! Someone finally said it! I didn’t want to be the first and be delusional!! There’s an intimacy in how close Leslie always sticks himself to Taylor, and his patient interactions with her despite her being against his business/dream. And the way he grabs her and jumps with her when he’s so excited to get his aham(?)!!

It felt like he definitely reeled himself in when he was pissed at Taylor too. We know what he is capable of. He picked up high school teenagers and swung them around like it was nothing. And though he did do the rude thing of slamming her against the van, it felt like it wasn’t as strong as it could’ve been. He had enough resolve left to tack on the “please” as well.

I know you mentioned it but I have to too- the way he let her go! He had her right in the palm of his hand, caged between his fingers, and he opened up his hands. He was so genuinely concerned when Taylor became shaken up after the first murders that he forcefully took her back to the van, telling her to leave. Despite all of his talk about the symbolism and importance of the final girl, he was willing to give it all up in one moment.

She was right in the house! He could’ve manipulated her, trapped her elsewhere, but he let her go. (Maybe a non-yandere could argue instead that he stalked her well enough that he knew she was too kindhearted to go and was just getting some last brownie points in, but c’mon)

You're so right about him reeling it in around Taylor!! Like not even just his anger (although I feel like that's when it's the most obvious), he's keeping himself casual and friendly the entire time they're together to make her more comfortable with the super unethical practice of documenting a budding slasher. It's pretty apparent that he can flip like a switch and when he does, he's terrifying, he's not actually some loveable goofball 24/7. He's only like that with her. And he's still willing to give up his life long dream by letting her go at any time prior, even though he knows he'd be losing his real final girl.

God, even if he only became initially interested in her because of her final girl status, you can't deny he's smitten in one way or another. Especially since around that time in the early-mid 2000s, final girls didn't always survive. They made it to the end, sure, but not necessarily to the credits. He could have still killed her, turned the documentary into a found-footage type flick, by that point he had already killed all the other teens at the house and as such would have cemented his slasher legend for future kids to show up at the property for sequels.

But he let her live. He still let her go even though she had refused his offer three times before, because she knew that's what she wanted. He let her kill him. Was it just so he could come back as a now immortal slasher? Was it to set up the premise that she would be his first victim in the sequel if there was one? Maybe. But I still feel like his last words to her being "I knew you were the one" just cements the fact he's convinced they're meant to be with each other in some capacity, even if only as slasher and final girl. He doesn't want anyone else, he only wants her, she's perfect for him in all the ways he cares about.

#ask #unnamed-blob #ask me about any horror movie i'll tell you how the killer x final girl are actually going to have a summer wedding

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willowser · 2 years

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hi willow!! you once mentioned you used discord for your writing notes, and i was curious about how that’s organized/ how that works!!

<333

oh, man !! this is like taking a peek into my liddol brain, so — i'm sorry for how long this answer is gonna be LOL i imagine it like, if i could have tabs open in my mind ?? and it's been pretty helpful !! bc i got a lot of ideas in there LOL it's...an organized mess, but thank you for asking !! hopefully this makes any sense at all !

*big warning for potential spoilers ?? i tried to keep things vague while also showing the purpose of certain channels, so be advised 😌

so, dialogue is the easiest thing for me to write and conversation comes pretty naturally to me, i think, and above all, i really needed a place to stick bits and pieces of dialogue so that i could use them later. and sometimes i will be standing at work or in line to pick something up or even about to take a shower and a line for a fic will just pop ! into my brain, and i wanted a space to put that, as well. this could all probably be done in a word document, but i really like the way i have everything set up right now in discord ! i think it's maybe an accessibility thing ?? bc i can just pop back and forth between channels !!

excerpts is pretty self-explanatory; this is where i put stuff away that i will want to use later and it's categorized by fics i'm working on. i have a random channel too, which is — also self explanatory LOL ideas that i may or may not continue.

*spoilers for southern charm and (maybe) kiss with a fist; still deciding if i want to go that route LOL

work in progress is more plot stuff and other details that i may need, like the language i'm working on for my body slaughterhouse, and then some behind-the-scenes info that may or may not make it into *on purpose. there's a few excerpts in there as well bc i'm unorganized LOL

resources is, again, self explanatory: research that i will most likely have to return to.

and i can't attach any more pictures on mobile, but that's about it anyway LOL i also have a picrew channel LOL bc i love to do those, and the other two channels are...deadlands is my original story and willowful adventures is an experience in the works, i guess ? very long time coming, so don't pay too much attention to it yet LOL

but yeah !! this is my personal little thinking space 🤗💕 it's very helpful bc i can just jump between story stuff without having to open multiple docs at a time. and then later when i've developed the thought more, i can just re-write or paste the text into the actual document ! definitely recommend it, and i hope this helps in any way !! thank you for asking, friend !!🌿🧚‍♂️🌙💐

#whew this was a doozy to type out #but i hope this makes sense !#some of my channels were created before i had names for projects so LOL that's why they're...like that #oh ! and a personal sprints channel bc the bot is motivating to me !#okay i have to go back to work but lemme know if you have any further questions !!#gonna put this in #i guess ???#✿ ask willow #✿ refrog

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korgbelmont · 1 year

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Part 1

Eric Willow is a Private Detective and Investigator for hire who works jobs that are more often than not connected to the Supernatural world.

Written in the Present Tense

Warnings: Haunting, Swearing, Cremation of a dead body, death

Word Count: 1373

Notes: Title made on cooltext.com

Being woken by a clanging sound, Olivia takes a sharp breath in as bunches up the fabric of her duvet. Door hinges creak as one down the hall opens and then suddenly slams shut, making her jump. She looks across as her bedroom door opens, and a glowing gaunt figure stands in the doorway.

The following morning, she sits with her friend, Elaina over breakfast. Elaina sees the bags under Chloe's eyes.

Elaina - More activity last night?

Olivia - Yeah.

Elaina - The offer to stay with me is still there if you want.

Olivia - No, I need to get rid of whatever it is.

Elaina - Well, I might be able to help with that. Mike gave me this in case I ever had any... stranger problems. Might be worth giving a call.

Elaina hands Olivia a business card.

'Eric Willow, Private Investigator Helping out with the weirder side of the world'

THE NEXT AFTERNOON

Sat on the sofa across from his desk, Eric works to get in first place on his racing game.

Eric - Out of the way you bastard! No, don't try anything.

He leans forward, determined to win, pushing the move joystick forward, despite knowing it won't make him go faster.

Eric - Come on, come on, come on!

He makes his way past his opponents, soon gaining first place.

Eric - That's right, eat my dirt!

He hits the boost button and tries to put as much distance between him and his opponents as possible. The finish line in sight, he leans forward even more. He crosses and shoots his arms in the air as the door to the building opens.

Eric - Yes!

He looks across to see a woman staring over at him in confusion. He lowers his arms and stands, setting the controller down and switching the TV off.

Eric - Sorry. I get competitive when I game.

Olivia - No worries.

Eric - Have we got an appointment?

Olivia - No, I'm afraid there was no time for making an appointment.

Eric gestures to the desk and they take seats either side of it.

Olivia - Mr. Willow, my name's Olivia Harron.

Eric - As in the Harron family?

Olivia - The very same. I'd like to hire you to sort out a haunting at my home.

He loads up a word document on his computer.

Eric - What kind of haunting are we talking about?

Olivia - Doors opening and shutting. Things being moved or thrown.

He types down what she says.

Olivia - And... I've seen someone.

Eric - An apparition? What did it look like?

Olivia - Blue, translucent. Looked skeletal. There's still flesh there.

He types the info up and turns back to Olivia.

Eric - Okay, I think I have an idea of how to sort out your problem. But I'll also need to do a bit of digging. Literally.

Olivia - What?

Eric prints the document he typed up and sets it in front of him.

Eric - First I'll need to identify who the apparition is. Then after we'll need to dig up the grave and cremate the body.

Olivia - You said that a bit too casually.

Eric - Sorry. I guess I'm just used to it all.

That evening at the Harron home, Eric sits in the kitchen with a sandwich while Olivia keeps a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

Eric - You sure you don't want to go to bed? You look--

Olivia - Tired. I know. My friends say the same.

Eric - Well, after tonight, you'll be able to sleep to your heart's content.

Olivia gives him a look of disbelief.

Olivia - How are you so calm about all this?

Eric - It's just another day for me. I've been a part of the supernatural world for as long as I can rememb--

The door swings open and just as soon slams shut.

Eric - That would be my queue.

Getting onto his feet, Eric goes over to the door, opening it. Only to end up face to face with the ghost.

Eric - Well, okay then.

He closes the door and dashes for his duffle bag. Grabbing a crowbar out of it.

Olivia - Did you just slam a door on a ghost?

He looks round to see the ghost floating through the door and moves to stand behind Olivia, keeping the crowbar raised in front of her.

Eric - Do they look familiar in anyway?

Olivia - What?

Eric - Have a good look at them. Do they look familiar?

Olivia studies the figure, despite it's gauntness, there is something familiar about them.

Olivia - I have an idea. But I need to be sure. Come on.

They move around the ghost, the entire time, Eric keeps the crowbar raised the entire time. Olivia runs and Eric soon picks up the pace to keep up with her. Switching the torch on her phone on, Olivia looks over some portrait paintings.

Olivia - Okay, okay. Uhhhh...

She stops at one portrait.

Olivia - Here!

Eric looks at the painting and she points to the name below.

Eric - William Harron. Where's he buried?

Olivia - The family cemetery. This way!

She runs for the front door, only to be stopped by William's spirit in the way. Eric goes in front of her and swings the crowbar through it. A shriek emits from it and it disappears. Getting the door open, Eric follows Olivia as they run to a cemetery. Shining torches on each of the headstones, they look for the right one.

Eric - Here you are.

Setting his bag down, he takes an extendable shovel out and extends it before he starts digging.

Eric - In my bag is some salt, make a circle.

Olivia - Okay.

She grabs the salt and begins to sprinkle it in a circle around them as Eric continues to dig.

Olivia - Why am I doing this?

Eric - Ghosts can't cross it.

Quite a bit of time later, Eric is now a few feet deep when the shovels hits the ground with a thud. Setting it to the side, Eric gets on his knees and wipes the last of the dirt away to reveal a coffin. He pries it open and pulls himself up onto the ground. Grabbing his bag, he looks up to see the ghost in the doorway of the house. He looks over to see Olivia staring at the spirit as well.

Eric - You okay?

Olivia - I just don't get why.

Eric - Most spirits usually have some sort of unfinished business. But what that business is, is only known to them.

Olivia - So what'll happen to him?

Eric - He'll go to the afterlife.

He takes out a bottle of lighter fluid and empties it onto the remains, throwing it at his bag.

Eric - This is it. You ready?

Olivia - Absolutely.

He takes out a box of matches and lights one throwing it into the coffin. The body instantly lights and the two look over at the doorway of the house. After a couple minutes, the ghost of William Harron disappears in flames.

Olivia - Does that mean...?

Eric - It's over.

Olivia - Thank you.

Eric - Happy to help.

Using the shovel, Eric pushes the coffin closed, trapping the flames with the body before filling it back in. Once finished, he yawns and scratches behind his head.

Olivia - We have some blankets here. You can crash for the night.

Eric yawns again.

Eric - I think I'll take you up on that offer.

It's not until the early afternoon that Olivia wakes from the first decent sleep in ages. Heading out, she goes to check on Eric, only to find that he's already left. On the table next to the sofa, she finds a note.

'Hope you slept well Eric'

Smiling, she sets the note down and heads to the kitchen

Now back at his office stroke home, Eric finishes typing up some notes on the case before printing the pages and putting them in a folder that he places in a filing cabinet.

#korgfics #short stories

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katwriteswitcherthings · 2 years

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for the fic writer questions... 4, 5, 27... and 10 !!

=^.^= <3 I'm just gonna pic a few of my fics at random!

4. What detail in grasp the nettle are you really proud of?

How Keldar is able to knock out a mage with a sign in one hit. This is part of a bigger story where it would get elaborated on more, but Griffins are known as the more magical of the Witcher schools, right?

So, they're probably all really strong at signs. Especially an elder Griffin.

I head-cannon that when mages go wrong (whether that be genuine or politically motivated), they contract Griffins as bounty hunters to track down and bring them in for sentencing/ jail. Keldar has had centuries of experience tracking and capturing mages.

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about nothing more to say? Answer it now!

Why/how were they looping?

A long time ago, I read a fic called Turtle Loops that was pure crack in the best ways. Apparently there is a whole universe of fics built on this premise? IDK but I thought it would be neat if there was something like this but for Witcher. I chose my favorite version of each character (Book!Geralt, Netflix!Jaskier, and Game!Yennefer) and ran with it.

I originally wanted this to run a little longer and actually have all three jumping into Book!Geralt's timeline at the proper time, but I ran out of time. Flash fic can be very unforgiving like that! :D I might come back to it someday if the bunny bites again.

27. How long did it take to write Vi Moxt Miirik? Describe the process.

I got the idea for this story sometime late October/Early November of last year. I started the document on Nov. 9th, 2021. I was searching through the Witcher wiki for some other story and fell down a rabbit hole, leading to some interesting articles on other wikis about the origins of specific monsters on the Continent.

I love non-human!Jaskier so much and thought, wow, Jaskier would make an excellent [redacted]. I also had just finished both The Last Wish and Sword of Destiny, and really wanted to incorporate a few of the other short stories into the Netflix!Canon.

I started the story, but I kept skipping around terribly. I wrote a lot for it, though, and I even had a general outline of when I wanted the stories to take place; but the connective tissue just never felt right to me. So I tossed it to the back burner for a while, adding a little bit here and there, but mostly left it alone. It's sitting at 28,224 words right now, and still nowhere near done.

Then, I see this year's What About The Bard?'s prompt list and... it clicked. It was originally in Geralt POV, so I switched it to Jaskier's and the ideas just worked so much better like that. Fun fact, the italic parts of the story are bits and pieces from the original Geralt POV version cut down or finished up. Most of the dialogue is the same across the different fics.

Who knows? I might get the inspiration to finally finish up the original version one day and post it up along side the WATB Jaskier version.

10. How do you decide what to write?

I get ideas from the most random of places. Flash fic has been great for letting loose random plots; the time limit means you have no time to dawdle. You just write and hope it makes sense when you're done.

I have a couple of documents I keep running lists on of ideas / pairings / concepts that I want to write. I have a fic in the works that's Young Vesemir/Guxart/Keldar OT3 set in the same universe as grasp the nettle.

Discord shenanigans are also very inspiring. I wrote a Sentinel/Guide AU because someone in a server was talking about how much they loved them and how much of a staple trope it was 'back in the day'. I have several rare-pairs that I want to write for, just so a friend isn't the only one making content for it.

#answered ask #ask meme #writing meme #@kuwdora

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sparkraptor · 2 years

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Message

Mason stood outside the medbay, watching Harvard quiver, nearly formless, in Ben’s lap.

It seemed like only yesterday they’d salvaged the synth from a radioactive wreck, and now he was transfusing a portion of his repair nanocytes into Archer’s Other.

A part of him wanted to go in there and shake her until the information came out, but that would’ve been cruel and counterproductive.

All he could do was wait.

A few days later:

Harvard was sitting on his lap, tense, as Mason tried to work up the nerve to pet her. She hadn’t been able to give them much actionable information. Couerl’s ship was long gone from the coordinates she’d escaped from, and the dampware link she had with Archer only worked in proximity.

Then.

“Mase, you need to come up to the flight deck, like now.” Kio’s voice was tight.

“On my way.” He sat up, daring to pick up the star-flecked bunny rabbit on his lap and deposit her on the bed.

“I’m coming too.” She said, shifting back into her owl-like form. She was still weak - she’d never been designed to survive in vacuum for as long as she did, but she settled on Mason’s shoulder with an uncomfortably tight grip. “Let’s go.”

The rest of the crew was waiting for him, Luca beside Kio at the helm, fidgeting miserably while Ben and Nico were perched nearby.

“What do you have?”

“Dominet auto-loaded a message set to our transponder code.” Kio started. “It was sent broad spectrum to as many comm buoys as possible. They knew our number, but not where to target the message. The security coding was pretty tight, but nothing Luca and I couldn’t crack.”

“Play it.” Mason settled into the captain’s seat. It had never felt right to him before. Now, for some reason, it was the only thing that did.

On the screen Adrian Couerl’s blunt face flickered to life. “I’m assuming it’s you, Laux, on the other side of this message. So I’ll make this brief. You have some important Dominion security documents. You might think this gives you the upper hand, so let me explain how this plays out.”

The camera drone he was using turned, and Mason’s mouth went dry. Archer was hanging there, like a slab of meat, hair matted and bloody, face swollen. Mason almost didn’t recognize him except for the tattoos on his battered, tawny skin.

“First, I want to say, if things were different, i’d be keeping this one. He’s a hell of thing. Even trussed up, you can’t get too near him or you lose an ear. So, good job in picking your. Minion? Boyfriend? It doesn’t matter. What matters is this. There’s a rendezvous coordinate embedded in here. You ping back that you’re coming, you show up and give me those files back, I return your boy here in his current unfortunate condition and then I forget you exist, old friend.” Couerl stepped back into frame. “You don’t return the files, because you think you can, I dunno, use them against me? Because you’re big mad about a place you couldn’t wait to see in your rear-view is gone? The Dominion will suppress those before you can even say boo, and your little Dolani hellion gets put on trial for treason, and sent off to the worst penal colony in the known galaxy. Or maybe I just execute him really slowly. And then as a bonus, you and whoever else you’ve got with you jumps to the top of the most wanted list.”

Couerl sat back, and picked up a glass of brandy, regarding the amber depths. “You know I’m good on my word, Mason. I’ll be waiting for your response. You’ve got 1 hour to respond after this message logs reciept. Talk to you soon, old friend.”

“Luca, send the response ping.” Mason growled.

“You know this is a trap.” Nico’s warning rumbled behind him.

“I absolutely do.”

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lemonjoonah · 3 years

Text

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

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