#every time i edit the draft of this the keep reading jumps somewhere else Will It Stay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiwixlime · 3 years

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Finders Keepers - Chapter Twenty-Two

Warnings: It’s a long chapter, and it might be a bit sloppy, but I’ve had it in my drafts for two days and I just can’t edit anymore. I’m too tired lmao. But anyway, there is Smut! [Unprotected PIV, oral f+m receiving, teasing, dirty talk, please let me know if there’s something else that needs to be tagged]

Also important to note: This chapter will include a discussion surrounding a forced medical operation. There won’t be any graphic details, but it’s a sensitive topic involving women and pregnancy. This could be potentially upsetting content for some. Just want to put that out there.

A/N: I felt like I needed to add a time jump to keep my outline of this story in shape. It’s just a small one, though. Not much to miss out on. I just have all of my chapters marked with the main events and I needed to add a time jump somewhere. So I chose this one! Thank you so much for reading!

NC-17, 18+, Minors DNI, etc.

Spring 2035

Another year, another month, another dance in Jackson. This time the town is celebrating the revitalization of spring. The days are uplifting with blooming flowers and lush trees finally making their appearance. The outside world is full of color again. It's reason enough to celebrate.

Once again, the church is decked out with intricate details. Soft lighting drapes down the ceiling, flowers sit in wicker picnic baskets, colors of pastel and green set the scene. It’s a gorgeous setup. The party planning committee sure outdid themselves for this.

And the residents are appreciative. Even Bay, who for once found excitement in one of these events. But it could be because this time, she’s not alone. Joel and Ellie accompany her, with the teenager immediately ditching the adults to hang with her friends. Not that either of them mind. They spend the first hour or so chatting with Tommy, Maria, and Eugene and all is well.

It’s not long after that that Bay cruises to the dance floor, making Ellie and her friends join her. The song is something from Bay’s younger years, a top hit from a boyband she’s familiar with. It’s the perfect song to dance to and the teenagers agree, forming their own little circle and laughing.

Joel stands with Tommy by the bar, sipping a beer while watching his girl twirl around in a strappy red sundress. Her hair is pulled back in a headband, ends slightly curled bouncing around her shoulders as she moves. She has on the faintest hint of makeup, just some eyeliner and lipgloss she was able to score from some travelers who crossed through a few days ago. Joel is mesmerized by how radiant she looks.

She’s always a stunner, but the way the gentle lighting illuminates her body leaves him breathless. Her lips are shiny and plump from the lipgloss and the eyeliner gives her eyes a pop. He’s not used to seeing her a little more dressed up than usual. She looks like a princess.

He can’t help but smile. She’s an incredible person and he’s lucky to be with someone like her. And truthfully, he wants everyone to know. And he tries his best.

It helps that she’s not bothering to hide the love bites he leaves on her, not with that dress. Even a few on her chest can be seen. It’s scandalous, but it’s sexy, provocative. People whisper, some glance at Joel with dismay, others find themselves intrigued. Then, of course, there are those who are jealous. Those who look at Bay and assume Joel could do so much better. And those who are terrified of Joel, but think to themselves that they could treat Bay right.

The gossip doesn’t bother them. They even like to fuel the fire at times, stirring things up now and then. Both Joel and Bay have possessive tendencies. It’s not the healthiest behavior, but it does spice the relationship up sometimes. And as Joel watches Bay move to the rhythm of the music, he thinks that tonight might be one of those nights. His girl is looking sinful in that dress.

“She’s somethin’, ain’t she?” Tommy asks, he and Joel still observe Bay, shifting their eyes to Ellie every so often to see how well she’s fitting in with the other kids.

“Can’t believe you let her go,” Joel scoffs in amazement. “Somethin’ wrong with you, boy.” He chuckles and takes another mouthful of beer.

Tommy grins and gives a slight nod of his head. Well, Joel’s not wrong. But he does love his wife. And he knows Maria is the one he’s meant to be with. “Aren’t you glad I did, though?” The younger counters and doesn’t miss the way Joel’s eyes crinkle with joy.

“I sure as hell am,” he insists. His tongue swipes over his lips absentmindedly, eyes raking in Bay’s every feature from her smooth legs, to her chest, to the ravishing smile on her lips. A smile so inviting Joel’s tempted to step in, even though dancing is not his thing.

Bay meets his hungry gaze and offers a wink in return, tilting her head as she sways her hips. Her movements taunt him and now that Ellie and her crew have moved to a table, he has the urge to whisk her away. He takes a quick glance around the room, regretfully so when he notices that he’s not the only one who was captivated by her little dance.

He grits his teeth at the look on Johnny’s face. The man is smitten. And who wouldn’t be? Joel glowers in Johnny’s direction, keen to strut across the room and knock Johnny out cold. But ultimately he knows that Johnny would never dare to make another move on Bay. It still doesn’t help Joel’s temper.

So he chooses to ignore it for now, leave the man alone. He turns his attention back to Bay and a frown slips onto his face. Oddly enough, Johnny wasn’t the one to worry about here. To his disgust, another man has approached Bay and has made himself quite comfortable in her personal space. Joel’s lip twitches. Who is this motherfucker?

Tommy whispers something in Joel’s ear and takes only a second for him to remember. The man with Bay is new to Jackson. He showed up a few weeks ago with a group of travelers who decided to make their presence in Jackson permanent. He decides to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he doesn’t know that Bay is Joel’s girl. After all, Joel knows from personal experience it can take awhile to get to know everyone who lives in town.

Still, the man is a little too close for comfort and Joel thinks he needs to cut in. He sets his beer down and says something to Tommy. The younger brother grabs him by the shoulder to stop him for a moment. “Go easy on him,” he suggests. And it is only a suggestion.

“We’ll see,” Joel grunts and takes a step forward only to be stopped by a body. A female body. His eyes focus in front of him to see Courtney standing there, sweet smile on her lips.

Tommy and Joel exchange knowing looks, Tommy biting back a laugh. Joel glances behind Courtney to Bay and the guy she’s with. She’s staring back at him with curiosity, questioning what the hell Courtney is doing there. He only shrugs.

Bay purses her lips, clearly annoyed by the presence of the other girl. She’s just like Joel in the way she gets jealous. So when the strange man dancing next to her reaches for her hand, she lets him. Two can play at this game, she decides.

The man holds her hand as she whirls closer to his body with a flirty smile. Watching the action unfold leaves Joel seething, but he bites his tongue. He can feel Tommy laughing next to him.

Courtney pipes up, addressing the two men. “Joel,” she giggles. “You look so handsome tonight!” She has her hand on his chest, flicking her hair. “Tommy, you’re just as attractive,” she adds.

The brothers nod, shifting awkwardly where they stand, uncomfortable under Courtney’s gaze. She’s way too close, but she doesn’t seem to pick up on their annoyance. She’s too busy admiring the view.

“Well, I better go find my old lady,” Tommy clears his throat, excusing himself.

“Tommy, you’re so cute,” Courtney says, throwing her head back with laughter. Joel’s eyes widen and he smirks at his younger brother. It’s clear now that Courtney is a bit intoxicated. Tommy mumbles something incoherent and quickly leaves to find Maria. With a giggle, Courtney waves goodbye and leans into Joel’s body, pressing her chest against him. She licks her lips as she looks up at him. “You’re cute, too,” she smiles.

From across the room, Bay watches everything. She scowls as Courtney taps her finger on Joel’s nose and then grabs his face in her hands. Her face hardens, she makes eye contact with Joel again, her boyfriend, who isn’t moving away from this girl. Bay rolls her eyes and decides to have a little fun.

The strange man’s gropey hands slide across her waist and pull her back into him. She’s grossed out, but she follows along, keeping her eyes locked on Joel’s as she pushes back, grinding against the man holding her. She bites her lip and rolls her body, showing off her curves. And damn her body, made by the devil.

That’s the final straw for Joel. He shoves Courtney out of his way, making her whine and spill her drink. He can hear the girl curse under her breath, but he pays it no attention, stomping his way over to Bay. He grabs her arm with a gentle force, yanking her away from the guy whose name he later learned is Greg.

“Hey, dude, what the fuck?” Greg snaps, balling his fists at his sides, ready to throw a punch.

But Joel doesn’t hesitate. “Hey, dude,” he mocks. “Stay the fuck away from my girl,” he hisses, venom dripping from his voice. He grabs Bay by the hair and pulls her face to his, kissing her selfishly, going as far to shove his tongue into her mouth. She kisses back just as hard, and sloppily, not caring that the whole town is watching their show.

Courtney makes a noise of disgust and runs out the church in disappointment. Now, feeling like he’s intruding, Greg shyly steps away, face burning when Tommy makes a celebratory noise. “Show her who’s boss, Joel!” He shouts.

Bay breaks the kissing with a laugh, but Joel’s face is still bitter. “You have no idea how much trouble you’re in,” he shakes his head, kissing her one more time. “Let’s go.”

He grabs her hand and she faithfully follows along, a happy smile on her face. They make their way out of the church, ignoring the nosy looks from some townies. “What are you gonna do to me?” Bay asks in a perky voice. Nothing could ruin her mood.

“Oh, baby,” Joel tsks. “You’re gonna be doin’ all the work.”

Once they reach Joel’s house, he wastes no time, opening the door and dragging Bay over to the couch. He falls against the cushions and pulls her down on top of him, lips connected in a hot and heavy kiss. His large hands greedily feel up her body, groping every part of her that he can. His, he thinks. She is his.

“Baby,” she breathes, grinding her hips down onto him. He groans, but it’s quiet, hidden in his throat. It’s torture for her to listen to. “Tell me what to do,” she begs and grinds against him again. “Just tell me,” she nips at his lips in desperation, kissing him harder.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart,” he orders in a deep, urgent voice. She hums and does as told, sliding off of his lap and onto her knees where Joel wants her. Her tongue wets her lips as she stares up at him, needing to see the look on his face. She eagerly works on his jeans, undoing the belt and ruthlessly pulling at the button and zip.

He lifts his hips just high enough off of the couch to help her ease the jeans down, hard cock flopping against his stomach. Bay groans at the sight of him, tip flushed, leaking precum, begging for her attention. She licks her lips and sits up on her knees, pressing soft kisses to the glistening head. He exhales through his nose, his hands shooting to the cushions beneath him, clawing at the seams. The primal urge inside of him is screaming to do more, but he lets her tease for the moment.

Her eyes are still trained on his, darkened with desire and need. She kisses down his shaft, slipping her tongue out, licking long and slow stripes over his length. Her soft hand wraps around him, jerking him slowly as she mouths at his base. She grins.

“Sucking you off turns me on,” she whispers and he opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off when she finally engulfs him in her mouth. He groans and lets his head fall back onto the couch, savoring the way her wet mouth stretches over him. Pride fills her and she relaxes her jaw, taking more of him past her lips.

He’s making quiet sounds that go straight to her core, edging her on. She bobs her head up and down on his cock, closing her eyes to focus as her hands cup his balls. His salty taste drips on her tongue and she takes it, slurping up whatever he gives her.

She hums around him and he mutters something she can’t make out, but she knows he’s coming undone. His dick begins to hit the back of her throat, making her gag slightly, which makes him even harder. He loves the sounds that come from her mouth while she sucks him. She sounds filthy and desperate, like she craves it.

And maybe part of her does. Gagging on his cock, she holds him steady for a few seconds, tears pricking at her eyes but it feels good. She finally draws a loud moan out of him and lifts her head, popping him out of her mouth and breathing hard. A line of saliva connects her swollen lips to his tip and she takes only a few seconds before easing him back onto her tongue.

“Fuck baby,” Joel warns, lightly thrusting up into her mouth. “Don’t stop.” His fingers finally make their way to her hair, tugging on the sleek strands to apply more pressure. She takes the hint and sucks him harder, increasing her suction. “Stroke my cock, sweetheart,” he prompts and being a good girl, she does as he asks.

Her hand wraps around him, jerking him quickly while her tongue swirls around his tip, bringing him to the edge. Above her, she can hear him panting and she knows that he’s about to cum. She squeezes her hand harder and slips him out of her mouth long enough to say, “Joel, I want you to cum in my mouth.”

The words tip him over the edge and he fills her requests, hips jerking upwards, stuttering as he spills into her mouth. His whole body tenses as she swallows his seed, fervently sucking him until he’s truly finished. She moans at his taste as her mouth glides up his spent cock. She smiles at him, licking her lips clean.

“I’m sorry for flirting with other men,” she pouts. Joel rolls his eyes at the words, but it’s her lips, red and swollen, that make his dick twitch. And he forgives her.

“Fuck, stand up,” Joel urges, ridding himself of his jeans. She stands as he repositions himself on the couch, waiting for further instruction. His head rests along the armrest, one arm underneath and the other traveling down to his cock, getting himself hard again, which doesn’t take long. “Take off your panties,” he orders, stroking himself as he watches her strip. She leaves the dress on, per his request.

The dress hangs beautifully on her and he knows that hiding underneath, she’s soaking wet for him. It’s a thought that makes his dick throb. Leaning upwards, he lifts his head up from the arm of the couch and motions her forward with his free hand. She approaches him and he pulls her down by the neck, kissing her softly. When he moves back, a sly grin plays at his lips. “Sit on my face, sweetheart,” he says.

The words make her blush, but she obliges. He settles down onto the cushion beneath him and guides her to where he wants her to be. Joel pushes her dress up to her waist and chuckles. “This pretty pussy is all wet,” he taunts. “Just for me.” Bay stutters, cut off by the feeling of Joel’s warm and wet tongue licking at her entrance.

“O-oh,” she gasps and grabs onto his dark locks. Her eyes flutter shut as Joel’s tongue traces her dripping folds. On instinct, she rolls against his bearded face once and then twice. The action makes Joel moan into her sex.

The tiny whimpers he solicits from her throat drive him on. His mouth is magic, sucking on her clit leaving her in ecstasy. His fingers grip into the round of her ass, pulling her down onto him, plunging his tongue deeper.

Bay grabs at her chest as she rides Joel’s face, head tossed back, pleasure surging through her. Her breathing gets heavy and Joel mumbles encouraging words as he devours her wet pussy. She was already turned on from the events in the church and giving Joel a blowjob enhanced her arousal. It’s only a matter of time before she unravels.

Joel is unforgiving in his movements, tongue prodding her desperately. She’s moaning loud, her climax building and she warns Joel she’s gonna cum. It’s just what he wants to hear. With one final flick of his tongue, he brings her to her release, thighs trembling as her slick covers Joel’s face. “Joel, fuck, you do that so well.”

He’s patient as she comes down from her high, her body in a euphoric state. Gently, she moves off of him, down to his lap and he holds her close, sitting upright. He strokes her flushed face, looking at her with such affection. “You good, darlin’?” He asks with care.

“Yeah,” she sighs, nodding her head. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” He asks again to be certain that she’s alright.

“Positive,” she confirms.

“Good,” he grins and smacks her ass. “Ride me.”

A chill shoots up her spine at Joel’s aggressive tone. One of her hands grips onto his shoulder as she sinks down onto Joel’s cock. She gasps as he stretches her, eyes rolling back at the incredible sensation. Her other hand rests on her hip, slowly building a rhythm as she takes his cock.

“Good girl,” he praises, grabbing her ass with his hands to help her move. “Bad girl earlier, but look how good you’re being now.” Her head falls back as Joel hits that delicate spot inside of her, hard dick brushing against her walls. His eyes graze down her body, fixating on her chest and the way her tits bounce as he fucks up into her.

“You feel so good inside of me,” she whispers, stroking his ego and maybe sucking up to him for being a tease before.

“Ride me faster, baby,” he orders. Her body is weak as she picks up speed, dropping her hands to his firm chest, rolling her hips quickly. His fingers trail up her back and dig into her soft skin, the feeling of her bouncing on his cock is just what he needed after watching her at the dance. He craved being inside of her. He craved ruining her.

She can’t help when her body slows down again, still weak from her orgasm mere minutes ago. This is her punishment. She’s supposed to do all the work. And she wants to, but she’s about to break. And Joel is lenient. He takes control, wrapping his arms fully around her and pulling her body down to meet each of his hard thrusts.

Her hands grip his shoulders tightly until her body collapses and she encircles her arms across Joel’s neck, dropping her face to his shoulder and biting hard, breaking skin. “Fuck me,” she whines, either begging or ordering. She can’t tell and neither can he. They’re too lost in each other.

“You look so fucking hot tonight, baby girl,” Joel comments, slapping her ass as he thrusts up into her quivering pussy. “So fuckin’ pretty. And you’re all mine,” he breathes. “This,” he groans, grabbing her ass. “Mine.”

She nods, Lifting her head again, trying to capture his lips, but failing. Joel’s relentless underneath her.

“Fuck,” he grunts, snapping his hips deeper. “This pussy is mine too. And these lips.” He grabs the back of her head, smashing their lips together in a steamy kiss. She moans into his mouth as his cock moves faster, driving in and out of her. “You’re mine.”

“I’m y-yours, Joel,” she whispers and that heat pools in her stomach again. She takes over, placing her hands on Joel’s chest again, grinding against his throbbing cock, squeezing him inside her walls.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he pants. “Can I cum inside you? You wanna feel me?”

“Yes, Joel!” She gasps. “Please.”

He growls and moves his hands to her hips, gripping with a strong hold to keep her in place. His hips jolt upwards, giving her everything he can, using what energy he has left to bring her to orgasm and it works. She grabs onto his wrists with need, holding him in a tight grip.

“Take it,” he mumbles, seeing her eyes glaze over. “Take it, baby.” She nods, lips parting, pathetic mewls dripping from her mouth. “You gonna cum?” He asks and she nods, moaning out his name. “Cum on my cock. Cover me in your sweetness,” he demands.

Being the good girl she is, she does as he says. He thrusts into her again and she lets go, cumming hard, her juices dripping down Joel’s thick cock. His eyes drop down between them, watching her mess.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, dragging his dick inside of her before stilling, shooting hot strings of cum against her walls. Her exhausted, sweaty body collapses on top of him, but he doesn’t stop moving until he’s well and finished.

“I should make you jealous more often,” Bay chuckles, throat dry and sore from being so vocal.

“Don’t get any ideas, princess,” Joel tuts and kisses her sweetly. “Come on, let’s clean you up. You’re a fuckin’ mess.”

--*--

Later in the night, Joel and Bay are in his bed. She’s on her stomach and Joel’s next to her, massaging her shoulders and singing a song. Ever since the first night she heard Joel sing, she takes any moment she can to hear his voice. It’s so warm and comfortable, it puts her at ease.

The combination of Joel’s voice, his hands, and the scent of him that lingers in his sheets is enough to make her want to drift off to sleep. She’s well and truly exhausted from a great day. A good night’s sleep would be the perfect way to end it.

“Bay,” Joel says before she can actually close her eyes and fall asleep. She mumbles a quiet “what” in a tired voice and Joel eases his movements. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

She’s fully alert now, sitting up on Joel’s bed, crossing her legs beneath her. He sits patiently, a curious look on his face as he waits for an answer. She stiffens a bit, afraid of what he could want to ask, but she decides to give in. She has no more secrets. What else is there?

Of course, she was not expecting this question.

“Do you ever worry about getting pregnant?” Joel asks, smiling faintly and hoping that he hasn’t gone too far or pushed on a serious subject.

Stunned, she goes silent. It’s a topic they probably should have discussed in the beginning. Bay knows Joel had a daughter and he knows that she’s never had a kid of her own and they both agree that this isn’t the time or place to have a baby. But they’ve never actually talked deeper about it. Considering the amount of times they have risky, unprotected sex, it’s a pretty important thing to know.

“I can’t get pregnant, Joel,” she says softly. “Something happened when I was with the hunters in Pittsburgh. And well… I can’t get pregnant.”

His face falls, not liking the feeling churning in his stomach. The protective side of him is ready to unleash just at the thought of what they might have done to her. He’s not sure if he even wants to know. Will she even tell him?

“Bay,” he frowns, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“The hunters, well, you know…they’re a group of young, fit, mostly men. They don’t like weakness,” Bay reveals. “But you know that, right?”

Joel nods. He does, in fact, know exactly what she means.

“So kids, a lot of women, older people, pregnant people… they were a risk,” she tells him. “If you couldn’t keep up or do your job, they didn’t want you. And they made it pretty clear. Once you got old or injured, they’d get rid of you. If they were feeling nice, they’d blindfold you and put you in the trunk of a car, drive a few hours out of the city, and then leave you.”

“Christ,” Joel says with a shake of his head.

“The same went for pregnant women. If they decided a woman was strong enough to keep around, they warned them about pregnancy. There were three options when it came to that topic. Because you know, it’s not just like they can say don’t have sex. Abuse happens…” She trails off and shivers, unable to finish that thought.

“So we had three options. The first was if you get pregnant, you can use yourself as bait. Most people stop for a pregnant person. You play lost and hurt and they’ll help, giving those bastards the perfect moment to ambush,” Bay recalls, having seen the move in action once. “If you didn’t want to do that, well, you could stick around if you promised that once you had the baby, you would use it as bait. Same deal.”

Joel’s stomach turns, the thought truly making him sick. “That’s horrific,” he says.

Bay nods. “There was a third option to prevent pregnancy altogether. They had a doctor on sight. I think he was there against his will, but he was trained and skilled and he knew what he was doing. He could patch you up, heal you, get you better, or he could operate and take away the ability for you to have a baby.” She sighs and wraps Joel’s flannel tighter around her, falling back onto the bed.

Joel is gentle as he lays down next to her, reaching a comforting hand out to hold her. He can see tears glistening in her eyes and it breaks his heart.

“I was young when I made the decision,” she admits to Joel. “I didn’t want to risk anything. I didn’t have anywhere else to go and I couldn’t risk losing my position with them.” She looks at Joel and it’s like her words come out in slow motion. “I had the operation.”

“Baby,” Joel breathes and closes the space between them. He pulls her close, holding her tightly to his chest. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, placing kisses to her head. “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t say anything more. She doesn’t have to. Joel doesn’t press any further, keeping her wrapped tightly and safely in his arms. He knew from the start that he would do whatever he could to keep her safe. Now, he knows he will do anything for this girl. Anything.

Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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athina-blaine · 3 years

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MoMM Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1 (Preview #2)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

The Storm, Part 1 (Preview #1)

Martin lurched upright, sucking painful gasps through his aching teeth, his sleep shirt sticking to his sweaty skin. No light permeated the windows— he may as well have been in a tomb, for all that he could see.

Jon was out there somewhere. Alone. As was his mother.

I’m coming back to you. I’ll find a way out of here. I’m doing everything I can–

Liar.

Martin curled up onto his side, wrapping trembling arms around himself. Even though there was no one else to hear him, no one to stifle himself for, he drove his teeth into his lip until his mouth filled with the dull taste of copper.

A knock startled Martin from his troubled doze. A lone ray of light had managed to break through the storm, cutting through the lingering shadows of his room. The winds shrieked. The snow roiled and bellowed and pounded the windows. The white wall stood firm.

Nothing had changed. Martin curled in on himself, fighting the urge to tug at the wisps of his hair as his heart thundered against his ribs.

We share tea every morning and dinner every night. He’s back. We’re talking. I’m not lonely. I am not lonely.

So why had nothing changed? What was he doing wrong?

“Martin?”

Martin jumped. Jon’s face was peeking out from behind the door, and when their eyes met, he held up two cups of tea.

Martin had overslept.

“Shit,” he breathed, moving to scramble out of bed. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Remain where you are, please.”

Head buzzing with exhaustion and grief, Martin settled back down. No point pitching a fit now when he’d probably just tip over. Jon would probably just push him back down again.

“You seem unwell,” Jon said as he sat at Martin’s feet, handing him his cup. Martin’s reflection stared up at him from the hot, dark liquid, blurred and unfathomable.

“I look that bad, then?”

“You look as if you slept poorly, yes. Maybe a change of pillows is in order?”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just ... one of those nights, I guess.” He sipped at his tea, desperate to leech any glimmer of warmth and comfort offered to him. And yet, the jasmine tasted acrid in his mouth.

Why are you lounging about like this, sucking on tea? a voice whispered. You should be figuring out a way out of here. There must be a way, and you need to find it.

“So,” Martin said. “Still no change in this storm, then, huh?”

“… That would appear to be the case, yes.”

“Yeah. I just, it seemed like …” Martin swirled the tea until the liquid nearly sloshed over the rim. “I mean, now that we’re talking again and everything, I assumed things would … get better?”

Cup half raised to his lips, Jon paused, his eyes unreadable. “You … assumed if we resumed communication, the storm would clear?”

Well, when Jon said it like that, the whole thing sounded silly. Martin’s cheeks heated. “I mean, this is all because of that one, isn’t it?” His hands tightened on the cup. “The Lonely? That’s what’s causing this, right?”

“I don’t remember insinuating as much.”

“What else could it be, though?”

Jon’s thumb traced the handle of his cup, silent, and Martin took that as his answer.

“So, we’re talking again, yeah? So shouldn’t it just … go?”

“I couldn’t tell you how the entities choose to manifest themselves,” Jon said, a new, hard edge threading his words. “To act like I could would be deceitful. I’m sorry to say, but I don’t think your plan will come to fruition.”

Martin’s chest panged at his tone. Plan? It hadn’t been a plan; that made it sound like Martin was … using Jon in some way. Martin had merely thought it was a bygone conclusion. And why wouldn’t it be? Want to get rid of an entity of loneliness keeping you trapped somewhere? Spend more time chatting up your beautiful host! Why wouldn’t that sort of logic work?

But of course it hadn’t been that simple. He was a fool for thinking it could be.

He just wanted Jon to give him an answer. To tell him to have hope, to tell him it was okay to have hope, despite everything terrible about their situation. He just wanted him to understand, and Martin was running out of time.

“Today’s the day,” Martin said, desperation thick on his tongue. “When I’d send my letter back to my Mum. I meant to tell you that before, but I … I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to jinx it or something.”

Jon pressed his lips together, and his eyes were so sad and pitying that Martin wanted to be sick. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have done something before now. Made a plan or …” Martin’s eyes returned to the safe murkiness of his tea. “But instead I’ve just been sitting around here and …” -drinking tea, reading useless books, making moon eyes at- “Do you think anyone would have told her by now? That I’m gone?”

“I-”

“No, God, why would you know a thing like that? Sorry, I just …” Martin sucked in a sharp breath, bottom lip wobbling. “I can’t decide which is worse; if someone’s told her already, or if she’'ll just be stuck wondering what happened to me.”

Christ, stop. This whining was only making Jon shift uncomfortably in his seat. But the image of his mother, alone in a too-small cottage she hated, that was too drafty and smelled like damp, waiting for his letter to arrive in the post- waiting, and waiting, and waiting-

“I should have been doing more. What was I even thinking? I thought things would just work out and I’ve just been sitting here-”

“You can hardly be expected to know-”

“I could have tried in the first place,” Martin said, aware his voice was creeping in volume and helpless to stop it.

And then, it hit him.

“What if I tried just ... leaving?"

“… I beg your pardon?”

A burst of impassioned energy welled up in his chest, chasing away the chilling emptiness. “What if I tried just leaving? Muscling my way through the storm?”

Confused laughter escaped Jon’s lips, trailing away under the hard weight of Martin’s stare. A crease diveted Jon’s eyebrows. “Martin, t-that ... That would be absurd-”

But Martin wasn’t listening, adrenaline sweeping through his limbs until he thought he could run. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of that? That was a plan. “I could do it. The storm doesn’t have to be gone and so long as I’m dressed for it- If I leave now, I could make it to the post office before-”

“Are you hearing to yourself right now?” The ferocity of Jon’s tone snapped Martin out of his racing thoughts. “The only thing you’ll accomplish is getting lost. You don’t know the way, and you’ll freeze before you get anywhere useful. Martin, please, I understand your situation is-”

“You don’t.”

The sharp words lingered heavy. Jon pulled away, eyes wide, but Martin didn’t retract, or let himself feel guilty about his sudden volume. Jon needed to know; he needed to understand this was important. Important enough to try anything.

Taking a deep breath, a touch of steel hardened Jon’s jaw once more. “Then what of Phillipa, hm? Have you even considered her well being in this grand plan of yours? You’d force her through this blizzard carrying you on her back?”

Martin’s stomach sank, guilt twisting in such fierce knots that his anger was strangled in its own crib. No. No, he hadn’t considered Phillipa in this slapdash plan of his. She’d never make it through the storm, no matter how careful Martin was.

But without her, Martin didn’t stand a chance.

This is what happens, the voice said, louder now, when you get complacent.

Something brushed his arm. Martin flinched, but Jon’s expression remained steady and calm; it almost made Martin angrier, the sore, wounded cavity in his chest desperate to snap and argue until they were gasping for breath. So long as they argued, Martin still had a chance to be right- there was a way out of here they just weren’t seeing, and they could figure it out together if they just kept-

“It’s not your fault,” Jon said, and the shame that swept over Martin nearly choked him. He drained the last of his cup, trying to collect himself. The tea had gone cold.

“Thank you for the tea,” he said. Jon stretched out his hand for Martin’s cup, their fingers brushing, and Martin had to beat back a shiver. “I … I think I'm going to lie down for a little while. If that’s okay. Probably won’t be up for cleaning out the study later.”

“Martin, please, I’d hardly expect you to clean. Take your time.”

There was no judgment in his tone, no sneer to his lips, even with how brusque his words were. Of course Jon would understand. He’d understand how Martin was feeling better than anyone. Trapped. Helpless.

And Martin had gone and yelled at him for it.

Curling up under the sheets, Martin let the shrieking wind carry him back to a troubled sleep.

#tha magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #fanfiction #fic #preview #momm #starting to feel kinda sorta good with how everything's falling together #still so much work to do AGH #everyone be extra nice to be please ;w;

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

Text

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar.

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone.

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work.

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers.

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea.

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues.

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon.

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional.

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him.

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises.

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far.

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him.

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.”

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?”

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.”

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.”

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.”

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?”

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor.

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good.

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.”

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.”

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon.

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself.

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued.

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.”

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked.

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you.

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch.

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document.

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done.

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by.

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job…

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing.

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done.

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess.

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available.

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus.

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had.

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow.

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch.

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly.

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride.

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard..

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months.

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now.

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air.

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them.

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him.

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing.

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name.

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.”

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.”

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes…

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.”

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him.

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was.

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal.

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago.

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching.

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all.

#Obey me #obey me smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey me fanfiction #Obey Me!#I just want to give this angel all the love and sex he deserves #11 planned chapters so far #Please enjoy the sin #my writing #obey me simeon

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florence-is-gay · 4 years

Note

hello! i hope you’re doing well :D i saw your pinned post about writing requests, so i’d like to request some lovesick headcanons? like how do they act when they’re just HEAD OVER HEALS for a crush, or their s/o, whatever’s fine. thank u :D

Hm, i more doing reader x merc oneshots but i like this ask so I'll give it a try!

Scout -

He's crazy dummy stupid. He loves u. Always utters complete nonsense when you're around cause he can't think straight. U make his head spin! He'll share his Bonk with you, and even show u his baseball card collection (very special!! No one else gets to see it!!). He gets so lost in your eyes, when you talk he just can't help hang off your every word like a lifeline! He loves u so much but he doesn't know how to express Just How Much he's in love with u!! Sometimes he cries when he thinks about u, but only in secret.

Medic -

He's a mad lunatic!! You're on his mind every second of the day! Some nights he can't sleep because your smile is ingrained into the folds of his brain! He'll sing and play his violin to you because he knows You're The One!! He writes songs about you, but he thinks you don't know that you are the very subject of his dreams!! He's crazy for u!! U are the reason he's so motivated to come to work and Do His Best every single day! He keeps a photo of the two of u in his office 😊

Engineer -

This man is in deep! He's always flustered when you're around, his face just redder than a cute lil tomato! He'll invite u over for home cooked meals on the regular! He'll make fun lil gadgets for you as a gift! Always super kind and polite. U always make his day! Your laugh is like a pure melody in his ears! He thinks about u every single second cause u drive him to LOVE TOWN!!

Demo -

Aye, this un's a MAD LAD. You make him feel buzzed, even when he's completely sober! He's always got an arm around u whenever the two of you are together! He tells u all his crazy stories bc he loves to see u smile and laugh. If this man catches u snoozing, u can bet ur ass he gonna bring u a pillow and a blanket! Unless ur location is not good for sleeping, then he'll gently move u somewhere quiet n comfy! You've left lipstick stains on his left side brain 💋

Spy -

Who thought u would be the one to make his shriveled heart shake? This gentleman is ALL romance! He's not afraid to express his interest! Expensive gifts? Check. Love letters and poems? Check! Bouquets of flowers? Gestures of affection and overly dramatic declarations of his love? Check, check, and CHECK! He'll backstab some bitches 4 u!! Hell, he'd even put out his cigarette to listen to u talk!! He wants to give u his undivided attention!

Soldier -

This man's heart jumps higher than his rockets when he sees u! The man that's normally loud and rambunctious is always on his best behavior whenever you're around! Though he also tends to get a bit protective over u! His thoughts of u motivate him to fight harder in battle! This man takes orders from NOBODY, but he'll do anything u ask in a heartbeat!! He'll call u "sweetheart" and "cupcake" and he'll mean it!

Sniper -

He's got a target on his heart, and Cupid's made a bullseye! He's got a bad case of tunnel vision, but only for u!! He doesn't talk much, but when you're around, he never shuts up! He always takes good care of his hygiene, because he doesn't want to be stinky around u. He blushes a lot when u talk to him, and he just can't stop smiling!! He sees constellations in your eyes, and every time he sees the stars he thinks of u!!

Heavy -

For a man of his stature, he sure gets flustered easily! He can't help how he feels, his heart is overflowing with love for u!! He always listens to what u have to say, and when u look a lil under the weather he'll bring u snacks and ask whats on ur mind!! He cares about u and wants u to know that U R SPECIAL!! He'll even let you touch his gun!!

Pyro -

This lil firebug is so full of love, he can hardly contain it!! He's bursting with sunshine and rainbows every second ur around! He hides his face when u compliment him, bc he's just so happy!! He will frequently give u Big Warm Squishy Hugs, because he wants to make sure u get all the affection you deserve!! He brings u all sorts of candy, but especially the ones he knows u like!! He also likes to draw pictures of u, but only in secret!! (It's super embarrassing...!) Gasoline used to be what fueled his fire, but you've set his heart ABLAZE!!

That is all!! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this, it's been sitting in my drafts for a while 😅

Edit: Make sure to tell me which one was ur fave to read!!

#ask #florence answers #lovesick headcanons #tf2

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optimismrpt · 4 years

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HOW RIGBY RUNS A ROLEPLAY : A VERY SPECIFIC GUIDE ( OF SORTS )

BONUS CONTENT: ACCEPTANCE DAY

I think it’s essentially to start with this disclaimer: This is merely how I run a rp and I’m not saying by any means it is how a rp should be run. I have found success through these methods all in combination and I can’t promise that they work all the time.

IMPORTANT ! if you use this guide as a basis for your rp please credit back to me somewhere on your front page, rules, or plot! this is a very specific type of rp (small limited run plot heavy skeleton rp) that i have worked very hard to develop over the past five years. i want you to learn from my successes and failures, and please give credit where it is due!

It is a lot of work! Like A LOT! And if you don’t have time to admin with full commitment this is not the right type of rp to attempt.

With that in mind, let’s go!

FULL GUIDE IN THE SOURCE LINK!

BEFORE THE ACTUAL DAY

First of all, getting apps is fun and it’s easy to get wrapped up in the excitement and want to move things forward as soon as possible. However, I recommend you don’t rush! Do not move up your acceptance date or the date that you close the inbox! This isn’t fair to the people who were planning on finishing up their apps before the original deadline who now have to crunch to meet the new deadline or may not be able to make the new deadline at all because of irl responsibilities. It’s always good to give lots of warning for the inbox closing and stick to it!

I also recommend that you do not lower the threshold of people needed to open. Sometimes it can be disheartening to set an app threshold at ten and then only get six apps, even if the days grind on with no new apps, stick it out and keep promoting! Opening with less than eight characters (and for apples I’d say 15 characters) is going to make activity lackluster. It’s better to delay opening for the sake of having a grand first day than to jump the gun and end up making the rp fizzle before it can even start.

About 52 hours before acceptances are set to take place I like to write out a to-do list and put it in my drafts. It usually involves ‘write acceptance posts, update skeletons, update main, post acceptances, post follows, post opening note’. Just having everything you need to do between then and opening written out in order is so helpful. And being able to check things off the list creates both a feeling of relief and excitement. So make a plan, determine how soon everything needs to be done, and work through it meticulously. In the rush of opening day it can be easy to forget important things like updating the triggers page.

If I have time I try to write everything hours in advance. When it comes to things like opening announcements and plot drops I try to write those at least 24 hours of their release time. And this is why I like, for competitive rps, to close the inbox and then give myself at least two hours to deliberate. But I’d even encourage giving yourself 6 hours between the inbox closing and posting acceptances. I know that’s a while to make people wait but apps can get pretty long and reading them all (and probably rereading a few of them multiple times) can be a lengthy process!

I always try not to read the apps at all before the deliberation time. I find that if I read an app when it comes in that gives the first person an advantage because they have more time for me to adapt to their vision and start to assimilate it and get attached. And that’s not fair to the people who may have stumbled upon the rp later. So I just read the app far enough to get the info for the app count.

Just as a general rule I like to post important dates and times in at least two different timezones. For example ‘Acceptances are at 6am GMT / 1pm EST / 10pm PST ’. That way you can show that you are keeping other timezones in mind. And plus it’s nice to just to the conversion work so your applicants don’t have to.

DELIBERATION TIME

Start by reading the apps which don’t have competition. These ones are easiest because it’s not a matter of determining whether they are the best of the bunch, it’s just deciding whether or not they are are passable. So I always read those first and then write their acceptance post immediately after I make my decision so that at least I’ll have that to post at the set acceptance date. That way, even if I haven’t made a decision on all the apps I’ll have something to post to show that I am reading apps and trying to stick to schedule!

When your are dealing with competitive apps there are a few things I look for in an application:

The most important is that the applicant seems willing to talk to you. This could be asks, ims, or even a little note in the app! Writers who want to make it clear what their intentions/desires/goals are ooc are going to be the easiest to work with! Plus it gives you an idea of how flexible they are! Those who dig their heels in when you offer up alternative suggestions are probably not good to work with. You want to find someone who has direction, intention, and ideas but don’t treat your ideas (or anyone else’s) as lesser than their own.

Call for humor! I’ve found that I have trouble with people who take themselves and their characters too seriously. This means that they often won’t be up for plotting since they don’t want their character to be anything less than graceful. Humor is a really good sign that a writer is fun, creative, and understands their character.

I also get wary of people who overhype the rp. Making edits/adding memes in the talk tag is all very nice, but when it looks like an rpt is promoting my rp just to give themselves an advantage over other applicants I tend to count that against them. I don’t like the idea of an rpt trying to use their signal boosting and popularity in the rpc as leverage over me.

One of the biggest red flags is someone not sticking to the skeleton! If someone blatantly disregards one or more aspects of the skeleton that is an instant strike against them. I don’t like it when people have ocs that they adapt to fit a skeleton because most of the time that means that they don’t really care about the skeleton and your ideas. However, if they contact me about changes to the skeleton in advance and ask if some edits are alright then that’s actually a really good sign! I want people to play a character that they are happy about and I’m willing to change up any skeleton. I just need to know the applicant is willing to work with me instead of against me.

Do not be afraid to deny applications. I used to never do this because I felt it was too mean and judgmental but now I realize I reserve the right as an admin to deny any app or character that I don’t vibe with. Go with your gut, and if the application is making you uncomfortable or nervous in any way, do not accept them. Sometimes it’s better to have one role go unwritten than to have someone who isn’t good for the group. Because both ic and ooc dynamics contribute to the effectiveness and survival of the group, you need to be excited to work with everyone and their characters.

One of the ways that I protect myself from muns who may not be right for the rp is by putting a password in the rules. Often the apps that make me uncomfortable are the ones that disregard or contradict the skeleton or plot. It’s clear that the mun either wasn’t paying attention, reading the pages carefully, or just chose to ignore what they read. It’s often That the apps that I don’t vibe with end up being the ones that don’t read the rules and therefor don’t put the password. So not only is it a good indicator to me that the mun might not be very considerate but it’s also a great default reason to deny an app without having to tell the mun directly that you didn’t like other aspects of their app. Most often I allow them to reapply if they’d like to but their acceptance won’t be immediate, so that there’s a chance someone else might apply for the same role with an application than doesn’t skeeve me out.

ONCE YOU’VE MADE THE DECISION

Write out your acceptance notes. I try to write a full paragraph for everyone when I am accepting for a skeleton rp. If there’s more than 20 characters being accepted then obviously don’t, since that’s way too much to ask of you. But if it’s a small group I always endorse writing a little welcome the chosen mun saying what ti was about their appt hat you gravitated towards. It’s kind of a way to also provide feedback to those who were denied as to what their app might have been missing. Plus, it’s just a good way to get the right vibes going for the ooc portion of the rp. Muns need to feel appreciated! After all they put in the work to get there!

I also like to offer feedback to those who were denied but with a disclaimer that most apps are chosen based on how they mesh with the other apps, since that’s something no one can anticipate. Usually the quality of the writing isn’t as big of a factor as how the character plays into dynamics with the others and whether or not their desired plots and connections with your vision and everyone else’s. Most of the time people won’t take you up on it, but be kind and thoughtful to those who do. However, if they are aggressive towards you in any way because they are upset about being denied block them immediately. Just trust me on that one.

Keep everyone updated as to your progress! Just telling everyone where you are at (in the process of reading apps, writing the acceptance notes, or taking a break) is a good way to put everyone’s minds at ease. It’s especially important to let people know if you are logging off for a while on acceptance day. That way people aren’t stuck refreshing the page and dreading that you might be ignoring them. On acceptance day I like to make a post every time I come online or go offline. It may seem like oversharing but it’s honestly so helpful to both you and the applicants.

POST-ACCEPTANCES

Once you are about to start posting acceptance notes, turn off anon. I know that anon can be very useful for those shy and curious folks that don’t want to im you directly, but this is another case where you’re just gonna have to trust me. For your mental health turn off anon and keep it off for at least 48 hours. I usually keep it off permanently unless there are more roles that need to be filled in a second round of acceptances. There aren’t really any questions that should need to be asked anonymously once you have a full roster of muns and this is a good way to get people used to asking you questions via discord, im, or dm. To prevent nasties from bullying you and to open the line of communication between you and your members, turn off anon!

And finally, once you have posted acceptances, close your laptop or turn off your monitor and don’t come back to it for at least an hour. I like to give myself two hours to go on a walk, eat some food, and just do non-rp things for a while. Acceptances are stressful and it’s important not to get swept up in it and feel overwhelmed. Taking a step back and remembering you exist outside of rp and outside of being an admin is so important. It’s hard to resist temptation, but if you have anon off really the only thing that’ll come into your inbox are follow messages and those can wait for two hours (or more)! But like I said above, keep everyone updated that you are going to log off for a bit and you’ll be back. Just so no one assumes the worst.

Just remember to be kind to your applicants and to yourself! It’s a stressful time for everyone!

#rpc #rpt #rph #how rigby runs a roleplay !#advice !#guide

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sif-the-tsunami · 3 years

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Hello friends,

This is a small sample of the fantasy series I’ve been working on for a few years. I would love to get some kind of feedback. Positive, negative. Lay it on me. I want to know what you think.

This is a rough draft, barely edited.

Summary: A young warrior starts the path to her destiny.

Rated: PG-13, this will probably read like YA but there wont be any sexy times. Just talks about violence and death (this doesn’t mean that people under 18 can start interacting with my blog. I mostly post smut.)

The attack on Dawnforge came without warning. Raiders, dozens of them, descended upon the small community surrounding a rural temple. The invaders poured violently out of the woods. In the cool shade of the temple’s grove, Ellisif Thrace’s mossy green eyes shot open from her late afternoon nap when she heard the Keepers sound the alarm. The war horns had only been blown ceremonially for as long as she could remember. The second blast echoed off the stone walls and summoned her to action. The young woman sat strait up, and listened for another moment to see if she could find out what direction the alarm was coming from. She thought she could hear the Keepers shouting towards the east although she couldn’t make out what they were saying just yet. Always eager to be of assistance, Ellisif picked up her belongings and started running towards the commotion. Ellie, as she preferred to be addressed, had been learning defense and fighting techniques since she was strong enough to pick up a sword. Her father had been a knight errant and thought it was important that his children should know how to keep themselves safe.

Another blast of the horn let her know she was running in the right direction. Soon she heard the sound of weapons being thrown and bashed into the thick wooden gate. The Keepers were directing the villagers to leave the area, a man that Ellisif thought was named Erik told her to go home. He couldn’t have been much older than she was, his skin was sun kissed, with a little pink on his temples and cheekbones. Erik looked scared, brushing his reddish blond hair out of his face.

“I’m here to help, give me a sword!” She shouted.

“Little Sister, you need to go somewhere safe.” Erik ordered. As he was saying this, the Commander put his hand on her shoulder.

“Erik, Ellie is to join the Order at the Feast of Lyria. Let her pick up a shield, if they make it through our defenses, she knows how to handle herself.” The older man told Erik. He handed their recruit a wooden shield with metal studs, “Ellisif, make your father proud.”

Erik rolled his eyes as the Commander went to go hand out more tools. “They are going to break through in a matter of minutes. Take an ax. If they make it past us, cut the fuckers down. And don’t you dare get killed.”

Ellie pulled the cord she had on her wrist to tie her hair back. Her thick dark chocolate brown curls were pulled back out of her face and she said a small prayer to her favorite Goddess. I don’t want to have to kill anyone, but if I do, please let me do it quickly. Her heart pounded in her throat, her trepidation rose with every new crack emerging from the gate. The wood finally gave way, and she watched the horde of mismatched heathens break into her town. The Keepers had set up as much of a barricade as they could. Carts where pushed on their sides trying to create a funnel and direct the invaders to the villages best fighters and war priests. The Archers were doing what they could to thin out the herd. Ellisif inched closer to the battle, she tightened her grip on the handle of her ax just in time for a raider to jump over the stack of crates that had been near where she was standing. She raised her shield to the long sword he was swinging at her and it became stuck in the hard wood. Then it was as if her brain shut off and her body took over.

The warrior would never truly be able to recall everything that happened that afternoon. The surviving Keepers would tell her that she was brave, surgical with her actions and moved like she had been doing this all her life. In her state of shock, she would just say she had really good teachers. They would congratulate her for surviving her first battle. They thanked her for saving lives that day. Not a single invader made it past where she stood her ground.

Ellie looked up at the white stone buildings that were beginning to glow pink with the setting of the sun. What would they do with the bodies, she wondered vaguely. She leaned against the warm stone wall and slid down. What should I be doing? She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to make the sickness in her stomach go away.

“Where is she? Where is my sister, where is my Ellie?” a familiar voice was shouting. A couple of the Keepers pointed towards where she sat with her knees tucked to against her chest, her head resting on the wall behind her. Sarah thought she look more pale than normal.

“I’m right here.” Ellie croaked. Her throat was so dry. The healers had looked at her briefly, said she would be fine but to be prepared that she would probably have some pretty bad bruising on her forearms.

“Oh my Gods, why are you covered in blood? We’ve been so worried! Mama is going to skin you alive. Are you hurt? What were you thinking?” The thin woman stammered together as she fretted over her younger sister.

“I’m fine, the blood’s not mine. At least I don’t think so.” Ellie said, “What was I thinking? I was thinking that this is what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to run toward the fight. Do you have your water on you? I need a drink...”

The Commander strutted over like the fine peacock he was and pressed a bottle of ale into Ellie’s open hand and said something about how proud he was. She didn’t care. Ellie just wanted to be able to swallow without her throat feeling like sandpaper. The strawberry ale was sweet and warm, it made swallowing a little easier but after the third mouthful it became clear that the ale was doing nothing for her nausea. There might have been something said to her about how he was looking forward to seeing her take her oath, he chuckled and walked off. Sarah started trying to clean the viscera from her sister’s face but before she got too much grime off of her face, Ellisif turned her head and wretched. She groaned, “Let’s go home.”

They walked home, arms wrapped around each other. It wouldn’t be until they reached their little home that Ellisif would start talking. The words slipped out of the young woman, still dazed. She looked down at the ax she was still holding onto with white knuckles and whispered “The one who gave this to me, Erik… I don’t know. He was killed. I killed someone today, Sarah. I killed several someones…”

Sarah, as gently as she could, wiped the tears off of her sister’s face, “You did what Daddy taught us to do. You helped keep our family safe, you kept or town safe. Lyria would be proud. She would be thrilled to know you will be defending her temple. Daddy would be so proud too.”

The older sister took her partner in crime into their house, and tucked the battle wary woman into her bed. The ax fell to the ground with a sickening thunk, and Ellie rolled over and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Sarah went to the kitchen and put a kettle on to brew some tea. Their mother, Kyra, had gone to the temple to help bandage up wounds of the Keepers and anyone else who took up arms. She eventually grabbing the heel of the loaf of bread from the pantry and slather it in homemade butter, pulling out her book of herbs. If Ellisif was more athletically inclined, her sister was definitely more well read. Sarah propped the book up and began plaiting her silky hair as she read the well loved tome. The front door opened quietly, the family’s matriarch came back after a long night of bandaging up injured young people and comforting the loved ones of those they lost.

“The Pale Mother now has a few more attendants now,” Kyra sighed, she and Sarah’s looks were similar, though she had more silver in her hair now. They both had dark brown eyes, almost black. “Those poor souls. The Council and the High Priestess has asked that we all gather tomorrow at the Temple. They found their leader and they are interrogating him. He seemed to not understand that the forge our town was named after has been closed for generations, thought he could arm his merry band of miscreants. I heard Ellisif did her duty. How’s our girl doing?”

“She might have gone into emotional shock. I put her in bed, she’s going to need something strong in the morning. I was just reading up on something that will sooth her nerves, she was covered, and I mean covered, in blood. Evidently none of it was hers, which is good. Daddy taught her well. The Keepers were saying she showed a lot of potential.”

“Your father was the best knight I have ever seen wield a sword, I can only imagine what he taught her. The Temple will have never been safer if she is half as good as he was.” Kyra grabbed another hunk of bread and helped herself to some cheese. “I wish you could have seen him. I’ve never seen anyone burn with righteous fury like he could. When he would swing his sword in the tourneys he fought in, I swear that it looked like it was on fire. It was beautiful and absolutely terrifying. Ells has that same spark. When she was little, I saw it in her too.”

“I told her daddy would be proud.”

“He would be. He would also be profoundly sad for her. Sweetheart, you should go get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be very long.”

Ellisif slept until nightfall the next day. Siggy and Kyra left her to her mild unconsciousness to attend the meeting at noon. The temple slowly filled with the mourning villagers. More than a dozen Keepers had died that afternoon, it had been a decade since there had been any attacks on Dawnforge like this. It would be weeks before the damage the raiders did to the town could be repaired. The surviving raiders were told they could bury their dead on the other side of the ravine outside of the walls and then to assist the town in its repairs to try to make amends. The Thrace women where given the instruction on how they could help by the High Priestess. As soon as they where able to, Sarah and her sister would be going to the schoolhouse. They thought that having a couple extra adults around the kids would help make them feel safer.

Most of the school age kids knew Ellie. Two years ago she had won the combat tournament on the Feast of Seraphina, the Scarlet Mother. Usually the winners give the bouquet of fire Lilies to their significant other, she instead pulled out individual flowers and gave one to every little one who was around the ring that day. Her father had done the same thing the last time he had won the tournament. She enjoyed being their hero that afternoon, Sarah remembered as she and their mom walked home with their orders. The night of the feast, Ellie was asked attend the dance that was be held in the town square. Sarah had never seen her sister so happy as when she came home giggling, barefoot and a little in love.

When they made it to their home again, they saw evidence that Ellie had been up and moving but she was no where to be seen. Kyra suggested that they leave her be for the time being, they were kind in letting the young woman try to recover at her own pace. After a few days of her sleeping more heavily than she ever had, Ellisif needed to be in the forest behind the temple. She wanted to feel the presence of the Green Mother and ask her for guidance. There was a small clearing there, where a large stone acts as an alter for Lyria. It was a large piece of granite that always seemed to be covered with moss in all the directions, not just north. On the morning of Lyria’s feast day, the sun would align itself with this slab perfectly, and that is where she would be taking her vows to join the ranks of the Keepers. They were originally called the Temple Keepers, as the community grew, the area they kept safe grew with it. Once Ellie joined, she would be binding herself to the fate of the town. She could get married and have a family if she chose, but traveling would be almost impossible. If the Empire of Oril ever declared war on any of the other kingdoms, they were almost always the ones that were conscripted.

While Ellie had wanted to become a Keeper for as long as she could remember, as of this morning, the idea of joining gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her mother had always talked about how even masters of their craft could have their confidence shaken if the seeds of doubt had taken root in their minds. Was this a seed a doubt she had been warned about?

“Lyria, divine mother, I come here to beg you for forgiveness. I never wanted take someone’s life. I thought they would yield if they got hurt. How could I have been so stupid...” and for the first time since the attack, Ellisif’s strength gave out. There she spent the rest of the day sobbing and trying to figure out what she needed to do. Her body shook violently as the waves of emotions crashed over her. In the back of her mind, a small notion crawled its way forward, seeping into her thoughts likes a strong tea in hot water. Devoting herself to the temple may not be the right choice. Ellie cleaned her face of the mess that the sobbing caused. The moon had risen, her family would be worried.

She made it into her home moments before they would begin searching for their missing member. There were hugs and more tears. They remained silent as Ellie made her way to her bed, she prepared herself for the night.

#fanasty #fiction #original writing #my own IP #original work #writing

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malmuses · 4 years

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Hello Mal, how are you doing? I hope things have gotten better for you on the real life side of things. I'm going through some rough times too, so at least the company is good! I wanted to start by saying that your fics have single handedly gotten me through the most turbulent transition period of my life. I'm almost completely finished with your works on AO3 and your storytelling... *many many many chef kisses*. You are easily one of my favorite writers. I love your writing style, ...1/2

...2/2 your characterization, and how well thought out each story is. Each fic is like a decadent treat for my brain. I was curious, as a fellow writer, what your writing process is like. I've tried a few different methods but was wondering what works best for you! I hope the rest of your 2020 is full of peace and love. Also, I apologize in advance for the spam of comments you are about to receive on AO3. I finally have enough spoons for it!

I’m pasting these into one so I can put the answer in one place! (Tumblr is so awkward sometimes.) Sorry to hear you’ve been going through rough times too! There’s a lot of it going around this year, so I think we have plenty of company. In fact, I think the whole world just needs to lower its expectations and standards this year. Woke up? There’s the first gold star of the day. It's only up from here. I’m so glad that you’ve been enjoying my stories and so flattered that you say they’ve helped you so much...*insert feelings gif* I always tell myself when I write something: It’s okay if not everyone likes it. It’s okay if some people hate it. Nothing is for everyone. I just want one person to *love it*. Then I’m totally at peace. Now, if that person is just me? If I’m the only one that loves it? That’s also cool. Each story comes from a different place. My long-winded point, though, was that you basically just validated the existence of my entire catalog of fics so far, so thank you xD Your question about my writing process though - I’m happy to answer. But of course, first, I have to insert the usual disclaimer that as with most creative endeavors, there is no ‘right’ way to do it. I’m sure you know that, but sometimes I think people underestimate the depth of that truth. Each person has their own unique way of doing things. The struggle is sometimes finding the particular way, or combination of ways, that work for you. There’s definitely no harm in sharing what works for me though, in case anyone else can take anything from it. I’m someone who writes multiple things at once. Some people can’t do this or don’t want to, which I totally understand. For me, this is how I (mostly) avoid any kind of writers' block. If I’m stuck somewhere, I switch projects for a day or two. I do usually still have one main project I’m working on, but I usually have at least three others, often at various stages of the writing process. This keeps me in more of a flow state so I keep going with things, and allows me to write every day. It’s a habit. Now, I’m not saying breaks are bad, and everyone should write every day. I just find that for me, breaks should be deliberate. They should be true, chosen breaks, not because I just...drifted into one.

As you can probably tell from all that, I’m very much a planner and outliner. I outline...a lot. I’d be happy to talk more about my particular outlining process on Tumblr someday if anyone wanted. But, basically, I start with a general idea, then break it down into different story beats, so I can see if there’s something missing or too much of one thing. Then I fill in the gaps, then start breaking each overall ‘part’ of the plot into scenes, etc. Chapters come last. In terms of numbers (I get asked this one a lot), it does not matter how long your chapters are. What matters is that the chapter length feels right for the pacing of the fic, in my opinion, and I really think that is something that just comes with practice and knowing your own writing. Shitty advice maybe, but just the truth as I see it. A lot of it comes down to practice and finding what works for you.

Once I have an outline, I generally write linearly. Some people can jump around a lot. That’s a bit of a last resort for me if I’m stuck on something, or alternately if a scene steams into my head fully formed I will write it...with the understanding that I will probably have to change chunks of it when I reach it. It’s just the way it goes.

Now, when I say I outline in detail (there are literal spreadsheets) that doesn’t mean that I magically only write exactly what’s in the outline and I stick to it. An outline can be a guide, not a rule. Sometimes stories take you places, and generally, I find it's better to listen to what the story wants. If my story starts going somewhere else or introduces something I don’t expect, I often revisit my outline and think, “Okay, how can I work in this new thing so that it follows the plotlines and arcs I already have? Am I adding to what I have or just distracting from it?” Most often those answers are obvious to me, but sometimes it’s good to ask someone else. A friend, a trusted beta. (I could talk a whole lot about betas and how that works for me, too, in addition to outlining).

I pretty much zero draft my fics. By that, I mean that I will start writing, and I won’t go back and do very much editing until the end. I will, each writing session, go back and read what I wrote the day before. Get into the zone. And sure, I’ll fix something if it jumps out at me - but that isn’t the purpose at that point, and most things won’t jump out, because it's too fresh. My brain knows what I meant, so it autocorrects for me.

Leading into editing, it’s a two-step process for me. Once my zero draft is finished, I go back to the beginning and go through. This is where most of my developmental editing happens. (Another thing that probably needs more detail...different types of editing.) Once I’ve done that (usually during that pass, I’ve added words) I then put the fic aside. For as long as possible. At least a month, if I can swing that. (Bang deadlines sometimes cause issues if it's a fic for a bang, but I try).

Once that time has passed, I can come back to it with fresh eyes. I’ll see the mistakes much more easily, then. This is where more intensive line edits happen, where SPAG happens, where I insert anything I made note of during my first pass if I needed to foreshadow anything more, that kind of thing.

For a WIP, I do these edits chapter by chapter as it posts. For a Bang fic, obvious I have to do it all in one go. Due to the way I write, if you see me start posting a fic -- that fic is already finished, or in rarer instances (for work that was more time-sensitive) partway through the second draft or so. Oneshots are a little different (and I’ve had some oneshots that turned into chaptered fics of their own accord) in that they are just shorter and less intensive and often only have one main plot thread, so they’re a lot easier to do. I can get one drafted, edited and posted within a few days usually, depending on length.

How much do I write? Depends on the day. I have a high-stress finance job, two kids, and write a mixture of original fiction and fanfic stuff. So sometimes it's more than others. Bad day? Maybe 1,000 words. Good, average day? 3-6k. High pressure? Well, last year's DCBB I wrote in just under three days. It was 25k at that point. I have no tips for speed beyond learning to type fast, LOL!

Okay. I’ve probably bored you, and anyone else who had to scroll past all this, to tears. This is way too long. But even so, more specific questions, I’m happy to answer.

Good luck! Best advice? Just write. Write. Write. "Write a million words, then throw them away” is a changeable quote attributed to several authors but all it comes down to is...practice. Find your own vice and way of doing it. In a million words time, you will be a different writer than you are now, guaranteed.

Mal <3

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 4 years

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Penny/Oscar prompt(with trans!Penny and trans!Oscar): Still feeling confused by being chosen as the Winter maiden, she approaches Oscar about whether she can really be a Maiden when her soul came from a man. Oscar tries his best to answer as himself, saying they're not so different as Oz only reincarnates into men, and explains he wasn't born as one, but that it's their feelings towards their gender and own identity that matters more and is a true reflection of their soul.

I don’t think I’m ever going to be completely happy with this one. It’s been through (at minimum 3-4) drafts and waaay too many read throughs. I’m just gonna call it done here. A part of me feels like I could still make it better somehow, but I already put all that I could into it.

That said, Penny and Oscar as valid af and anyone who disagrees can fight me behind Denny’s (sure I’ll probably lose because I’m basically Steve Rogers before he became Captain America, but yeah).

Also if it doesn’t come across that they’re valid af in this fic, I will just go and edit it some more. I did my best, but I also am somewhat worried that’s not enough.

anywhoooo off to the fic!

There Are No Strings On Me (The Farm Boy Is Also A Cricket, Too)

Penny watches the airship lift off and fly away. She hates staying behind like this. She understands why. What she is now, a Maiden—she’s too important to risk on a reconnaissance mission. The fate of Atlas, Mantle, the entire world rests partially on her shoulders, and not just in an ‘Ironwood telling her that it will be her job to save the world one day’ way. This is real. Too real.

Penny holds one of her hands in the other. She rubs circles with her thumb on her open palm. Her father, the first chance he got, repaired the damage Cinder’s fiery blade caused when it exploded. She’s glad for that. There’s no doubt in her mind that there will be a battle in the near future she will take part in. Going into a fight with sustained damages is no good.

Penny closes her eyes. A part of her wants to playback that terrifying moment. Hurtling through the air, her sensors alerting her to the incoming blade, catching it, her hands overheating. Spinning out of control. Falling.

Catching herself.

She refuses to let herself do more than think about it. She survived the fight. So did Winter. That’s what really matters.

Although, dying doesn’t necessarily scare Penny. She’s done it once already. She doesn’t remember it or the time between it and her reactivation. She never felt pain, terror. One moment she knew nothing more, and the next she was blinking awake in her father’s lab. Penny knows truly dying means not waking up again, but she finds it hard to fear the moment when it’ll eventually happen definitively for her.

What she does fear, and what she would cry over if she had the capacity, is the possibility of an afterlife. Penny has hard evidence now that, if an afterlife does exist, she doesn’t get to go there. She doesn’t go anywhere. She just shuts off. Like any other machine.

She’s not real like actual people are. She’s a very close replication of life, but there’s still a gaping chasm between her and everyone else. One that she can never cross precisely because of what she is.

I have come too far to be stopped by some toy!

They’re words said in rage by someone whose opinion Penny knows she shouldn’t really be considering, but they’ve stuck with her since they were yelled at her. Is that what she is? A toy? A puppet? A plaything? An imitation of life meant to explore humanity’s capacity for creation?

An imitation of humanity itself, one that deceived—stole—one of its greatest powers out from under it?

Penny can’t describe what having the Maiden powers feels like. They’re just there. A part of her, but one that’s somehow detached from her operating systems. She controls them, can send commands and signals to them like she does literally every other aspect of her body, but they are distinctly separate from her machinery. Like a magnet that got accidentally stuck to her and won’t come off. Not truly a part of her. Not really.

She shouldn’t have gotten them at all. The Maiden powers were intended as a gift from an old wizard to four living girls, to aid mankind. Penny isn’t alive, not like everyone else is. The gift to the maidens was never meant for her. She intervened in a process she should have stayed out of. It was not her place to act like she had.

But if she hadn’t…

Penny can imagine what would have happened if Cinder won that fight. Fria’s final moments would not have been peaceful. Winter, out of aura and injured, would be in no condition to continue a fight against an even stronger opponent. Penny herself…well, she already knew how little Cinder regarded her life.

She’d had no choice, hadn’t she? To save all three of them. To not waste the window of opportunity Winter gave her by distracting Cinder. In those precious moments, there was only her. Penny.

She could have told Fria to think of Winter, couldn’t she? Fria knew Winter. Thinking of her probably wouldn’t have been too hard. But, Penny hadn’t. Penny had taken Fria’s hand and held it. Because no one should be alone in that final moment. Because she couldn’t say she knew what awaited Fria on the other side and she wanted to give Fria whatever comfort she could to send her off. Because, in that moment, the magical powers hadn’t mattered, but the old woman in Penny’s arms did.

Now, here she is, the Winter Maiden. A thief of a gift to humanity.

“You okay?”

Penny nearly jumps. She hadn’t heard Oscar come up behind her. Her receptors had captured the echoing sound, sure, but her processors hadn’t been attuned to register it.

“I—I’m fine,” Penny says too hurriedly, and closes her lips firmly to prevent the hiccup from escaping her.

Oscar looks at Penny a long moment, and then sits down beside her. “I hate staying behind like this,” he admits, gesturing to the cave opening the airship flew out of to exit the Crater. “I know there’s more I can be doing but I…”

“Are too important,” Penny finishes for him. And he is. Ozpin can always reincarnate into someone else, yes, but there will only ever be one Oscar Pine. Even if he stayed behind, like her, because of the special magic connected to him, that’s the truth Penny believes firmly in.

“I guess you know what that’s like.” Oscar laughs quietly.

Penny doesn’t answer. They settle into silence. It’s an odd place to sit, really, the opening that looks out over the Crater. They have an entire, somewhat comfortable, temporary hideout to go rest in, but neither really want to leave the spot where they can see the sliver of the sky where the airship will first appear when it returns.

“Penny, I…” Oscar begins, and Penny turns to him to listen. “If it was going to be anyone, I’m glad you’re the Winter Maiden. I know we don’t know each other well, but I do know you’re a good person.”

“Thanks,” Penny replies quietly. She knows the words are supposed to be reassuring, but they fall flat to her. Again, she’d been the only one there, in that moment with Fria. If the Maiden powers could have gone somewhere else, they probably would have.

It was unfair to them, and Fria. There’s no way the previous maiden could have known Penny’s true nature. Fria had much more important, pressing matters on her mind to truly take a second and notice the exposed metal of the palms of Penny’s hands, first when she touched her leg, and then when she held her hand. Fria probably hadn’t had time to realize no ordinary person could have come through the freezing whirlwind of ice and snow. She probably hadn’t seen how Penny’s legs were clearly synthetic and attached together at an artificial knee.

Despite being a Maiden who lived well into old age and was, therefore, arguably very clever, Fria probably hadn’t noticed all the little hints that indicated what Penny is, even though she had every reason to critically examine Penny, since she’d been attacked for the power she was tasked with protecting mere minutes before.

Because that would mean Fria had known (or at least suspected) Penny’s true nature, and decided to choose her anyway.

And why would she do that? Penny, as she keeps telling herself over and over again, isn’t actually real. Not a real girl. Not like Ruby and the rest of her team. Not like Nora, or Winter, or even Cinder, who’s part Grimm now. All of them were born, created as girls, and Penny was…well her father had been more focused on building something that functioned. He’d never chosen a gender for her. She did that herself, later on, after she gained consciousness. But he’d given her his aura, and her father was a man. So, following that line of logic, shouldn’t she too be a man too?

“What if it was a mistake?” Penny asks Oscar in barely a whisper.

He looks at her. “What if what was a mistake?”

Penny takes a breath she wholly doesn’t need, but the action she learned is one that people do when they need to prepare themselves to say something important. “Me becoming the Winter Maiden. I have my father’s aura. I’m not a real girl. I tricked some of the most important magic in the world and stole it from humanity and…” she trails off, unsure of how to finish her self-doubting argument.

At first, Oscar doesn’t reply. Then, “I have Ozpin’s magic, and his memories,” he says slowly. “Does that make me him?”

“Of course not,” Penny retorts. “You’re your own person!”

Oscar grins, and Penny gets the feeling it was his ploy to get her to say that, for both their sakes. “So, if I can still be me, even if I have a wizard living in my head, then why can’t you be your own person even if your father gave you some of his aura?” He posits.

Penny huffs. “I know I’m not the same being as my father. There is substantial evidence supporting the concept that we are two entirely separate entities, but I have his aura, and he is a man. The maiden powers only attach to females. Therefore, logically, they should not have come to me.”

“So, following that reasoning, aura and gender are linked,” Oscar muses. He pauses and, if Penny weren’t so wrapped up in her own tumultuous thoughts, she’d recognize the signs that he’s mentally preparing himself to say something he considers very important. “What if I had evidence to the contrary?”

“What do you mean?” Penny asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Oscar doesn’t look at her. His shoulders hunch in. Instinctively, Penny reaches over and wraps a reassuring arm around his shoulders. She doesn’t know what he’s going to say next, but she can still recognize it’s hard for him to say.

“I was…I am…Penny, do you know what being transgender is?”

Penny doesn’t reply. The moment she heard the unfamiliar word, she immediately sent out an inquiry to the Internet to find its meaning.

“Transgender,” she finally says. “Denotes or relates to a person whose gender identity and expression does not correspond with what it was at birth.”

Oscar lets out a sharp laugh. “That’s one way of putting it, I guess.” He pauses. Sensing he’s not finished, Penny waits for him to continue. He does. “For me, it means, when my parents’ only child was born, they had a daughter.” Oscar glances at her warily, but Penny doesn’t interrupt. He gazes down at his hands, and sighs. “And that they never got to meet their son either. They died before he figured that out about himself.” Hurriedly, he adds, “That’s not the point,” while wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Penny hugs Oscar, hoping to communicate that he doesn’t have to explain further to her if he doesn’t want to.

Oscar leans into the hug. He doesn’t wrap his arms around Penny in return, but he does rest his weight on her. “The point is,” he starts again. “I once had…doubts. Kind of like you do. But I learned aura and gender aren’t really related. Aura is just aura. It doesn’t really concern itself with any other part of you. It’s just there. Completely yours. It’s what we believe about ourselves, our identities, that makes us who we are.”

“But my aura is my—”

“Yours.” Oscar sits back. “Penny, have you ever considered that all parents create their children’s auras when they conceive them?”

“What?”

“It’s something Oz told me once. We had a conversation kind of like this.” Oscar inhales slowly and exhales. “Oz told me everything comes from somewhere. He has…interesting theories on the origins of Dust and semblances, for instance. But he told me, our parents are always a part of us, because they gave a part of themselves to make us. He said, because of that, mine will always be with me.” Oscar stares down at his hands. “Even if I never got to know them. My aunt used to say the same, that I had my father’s laugh and my aura is nearly the same shade of green as my mother’s, but she’s not an ancient, mystical immortal, so I guess she was harder to believe.”

He smiles softly. “It’s reassuring, in a way. To know they gave me part of who I am. My aura. My laugh. My appearance, to an extent. But they didn’t decide who I am. I’ve done that on my own.” Oscar looks up at Penny. “So have you. You said it yourself. You aren’t your father. You have substantial evidence proving that.”

“But you’re human. I’m not alive. I don’t have a soul like—”

“How do you know?” Oscar interrupts. “How do you know you don’t have a soul?”

Penny hesitates, and then admits what she’s been thinking, “I died. I died and I didn’t go to an afterlife or anything. I just shut down like any other old machine.”

There’s a long pause where Oscar doesn’t say anything. Penny begins to think he doesn’t have an argument to refute her claim. When she’s about to stand and walk away, Oscar finally speaks.

“What if you weren’t dead?” He asks quietly.

“What?”

“Your father recovered your core, you, from Amity Arena, and used it to rebuild you. A part of you never shut down completely. In your own way, you were still alive.” Though the words seem more like an statement, Oscar speaks them like he’s asking a question.

“I guess.” Penny frowns. She’s never really thought of it like that before. Everyone told her she died, so she assumed she had. But, a part of her had still existed in the world, hadn’t it? Vulnerable. Weak. But not snuffed out completely.

Penny thinks about it more deeply. Maybe it was like she had been in a coma? When people are grievously injured, they can go into comas. They don’t necessarily remember what happens during them either. They wake up on the other end still alive, just with a gaping hole of time they weren’t conscious for in their life. Like her.

“That doesn’t mean I have a soul or will go to an afterlife like everyone else,” Penny mumbles, but she’s not as certain that she believes herself now.

“Penny, I’m not sure how else to tell you this, but no one knows what happens to us after we die. Not even me, and I—well, Ozma—sort of died once. Actually, it was more like a couple times.” Oscar winces. “But Ozma didn’t maintain memories of what happened to him after once the God of Light brought him back.” He smiles at her. “Wondering about it, I think, is one of the most human things someone can do.”

“Oh.” Penny considers the idea that she’s just as alive as everyone else is, and lets that sink in.

“If it helps.” Oscar leans back on his hands and looks up to the small sliver of sky that’s visible to them. “We’re probably the only two people who can be completely certain about their identities.”

“How so?” Curious, Penny cocks her head.

“I was chosen as the next life as an immortal who only reincarnates into men. You’re the Winter Maiden, who can only be a girl.” Oscar shrugs. “We were each chosen by magic older than this incarnation of humanity itself based on the identities we decided for ourselves. If that’s not validating, I don’t know what is.”

“I never thought about it like that.” Penny sighs. “I—I thought I tricked it. That I looked enough like a girl that the maiden powers came to me because they had no place else to go.”

“The maiden powers are meant to go to those who will travel out in the world and make it a better place because they are able to. I think that fits you pretty well.”

#rwby #data farms #penny polendina #oscar pine #trans!penny #trans!oscar #whirls writing #misstrashchan

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lisinfleur · 4 years

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Hi! i just got a tumblr account very recently (but i’ve been reading stuff in the vikings fandom basically since the beginning of covid lockdown last year when i started the show, but anyways lol). i really love your writing and i was wondering if you had any tips about starting up a page or anything? i love writing but i’m much more used to the wattpad layout, and i also love editing photos/videos but i’ve always been on insta for that. on both of thsoe platforms there isnt really much of a fandom for vikings though, which is the main reason i joined/got into tumblr. i’ve never worked on here before so i just wanted to ask if you have any advice for me. thanks so much for your time! sorry this is so long!

Hey love!

First of all, welcome!! The series may be over, but the fandom is super active! And we love new members!

Tips for Tumblr? Let me see...

Well, first of all always save your drafts away from Tumblr. You can have them saved on Word or use Google Drive for saving your documents, but do not trust Tumblr drafts to keep your work and do not write directly on Tumblr post editor to avoid losing your time and effort if the site updates all of a sudden!

For editing and gifing, take note of the size limits for Tumblr images. Some images and gifs can be rejected if not inside these limits and the editor won’t always say what’s the real problem haha.

About mobile and web apps, take note that their codification is different which means, posts edited in Mobile sometimes won’t be possibly editable on the web and vice versa. So, choose your favorite version and stick to it (I love the web, more features available, fewer errors...)

Over anything, ignore the haters. They’re not numerous in our fandom and the few who exist are nothing but attention whores: ignore them, they’ll search for attention somewhere else XD

If you already have a Wattpad profile active, feel free to link it for us! Shout your work out, love! There are lots of Wattpad readers around that will love to know you’re here too!

Tag your work and respect warnings, This one is always good to remember cause tagging your work will help it to spread around (the first 5 hashtags you put on every work will settle it on the searches for those tags helping you to appear around) and the warnings are super important to avoid people from being surprised by triggering content in our fictions. Since we don’t have a block exclusively for warnings - like Wattpad offers - it’s always good to remember to place these warnings before your work starts. :)

If you chose the web version of the platform, remember to use the “keep reading” bar whenever is possible! The web posts can be very long and believe me, in the mobile version, the longer posts become a real nightmare for the users who’ll have to scroll down a lot of touches before reaching the end of our posts. The “Keep Reading” bar feature adds a cut on your post that allows the user to jump your post easier since it appears like a small post on their dashboard and the ones who want to read you will be redirected to your post by clicking on the bar allowing them to have clean access to your content without the many other things their cellphone has to load to read on their dashboard.

Ah! Important one! Prepare a Masterlist post! Whenever you post a new piece of work, put the link for it on your masterlist and save your masterlist as a link on your blog’s subtitle so it will be easier to reach it! New readers will search for your masterlist whenever they like your work, trying to reach more of your fiction without having to scroll down through your whole blog. And also, it helps recurrent readers to find that particular work of yours they love so they can read again or reblog or even show the links and recommend you to their mutuals! Here is mine, as a sample, if you need :) (LINK)

Count on me s2 If there is anything I can do to help, feel free to contact me! It will be a pleasure to answer your questions and help you integrate into this amazing community we have here!

All the love!

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

Text

07. Attack in the Pumpkin Patch

AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. Installments can be standalone pieces. Word Count: 3904 Trigger Warnings for this one include: racism, classism, and violence.

Simon arrived with a satchel and a big gym bag, but Grace was still asleep. He looked at her and the way that her makeup was a little smeared on her face, but she still looked so incredibly pretty that it just didn’t make any sense. The alarm on her phone went off while he was hovering and gawking. When her eyes opened, his eyes widened. She shut off the alarm and smiled sleepily at him, “You’re just in time for my wake up photo shoot,” she announced and handed him her phone.

“Your… what?”

They spent several minutes with her posing in various positions in the gown, in bed and getting up and heading for her lavatory. She let him know when it was the last one and said that she needed him to edit them and post them to her social media with the hashtags “iwokeuplikethis,” “belleoftheball,” “beautyrestchamp” and “apexbeauty." She also got him to tag everyone who had anything to do with her look the previous night with a cutesy apology that she delivered for him to type, calling out their names through the door while she washed her face and brushed her teeth, to his annoyance in trying to spell some of these people’s names or handles. He would have complained that he didn’t work for her, but Grace probably purposefully did this right now because she knew that he wasn’t going to interfere with her getting ready today.

The way that Grace simply tossed her gown onto the floor whenever she went to get ready, how she spent far more time than reasonable on her hair and hygiene, and then went through a tedious procedure to pick the perfect outfit was a level of blatant disregard that Simon was definitely used to. He brought along figures that he needed to work on and set up his workspace at her reading bench, with a drafting table that she let him stash in her huge closet, specifically for times like this.

Simon would focus enough on his hobby that Grace's dancing around her room in a tank and boy shorts was… ignorable, while not necessarily the easiest thing in the world to turn his attention from. If I don't look, I won't stare, he'd remind himself whenever he heard her say something, sing something or do something that might elicit a glance at any other time. "Aha!" She said, grabbing her fourth attempt at a shirt selection.

If he paid attention to her, she'd milk it. If he tried to rush her, she'd slow down. Simon didn't react at all and left her to her own devices, because he had known her long enough to know that anything else would keep them in this room longer than her typical antics. "Ppbbbbbbrrrrrrrrr!" She sputtered, looking in the full body mirror. Simon glanced up and winced, immediately regretting doing so, because not only was she still not dressed, she noticed him in the reflection and smiled. He put his head back down and began vigorously painting his figure. "Simon," she called, "You're doing okay waiting, right?"

"I am," he lied, but this time not looking up.

"Good. Because I think that none of this is working for me. It's chilly outside and I need a new fall wardrobe," she whined. "I should have gone shopping specifically for a pumpkin patch date outfit." Simon looked up at the mention of the word "date," but she had gone back into the closet and came out with an armful of clothes.

"That's it!" He said. He set his figures down to dry, slid from his seat and grabbed his new skateboard (same skateboard he stole the previous night, but now it was officially his). "We go to the pumpkin patch every year. It's not some kind of new event and I'm not waiting all day for you and missing out on stuff because you wanna be the fashionista of the pumpkin patch this year!"

She rolled her eyes and slowly sorted through the clothes. Simon paced for a moment, then he sat back down, like she knew he would. Go by himself? Somewhere that other people would be? Simon wasn't doing that. He hated other people. And doing stuff like this wasn't fun by himself - only with her. He fumed and asked, "Could you please hurry up?"

"I'm going as fast as fashion greatness will allow! Don't you WANT me to look good?"

Simon blushed and groaned, "I don't care how you look!"

"The cuter I am, the more free stuff they give us," she reminded him.

"I get free stuff all the time and I never have to be ‘cute’ to get it," he complained.

"Noted… but, I don't feel like robbing farmers and stuff. They're nice, good people just trying to sell their wares. Now, if they GIVE me their delicious treats, that's another story. A story that starts with how cute I am. Which one?" She asked about two sweaters. Simon looked between the two, selected one and she set it down to put on the other. Joke's on her. I picked the one I didn't like as much. I know exactly how she is. Which was moot because she looked good in anything.

It hugged her curves and fell just to her thighs and she gave herself a nod before grabbing her leggings. Simon sat by the window and looked out of it. Her locs were down again and she slid a tam hat over them and purposefully set the number of locs she wanted to hang out.

Nobody had brought up last night's kiss. He was awake all night thinking about it and what she meant by it. He’d stayed in the shower until the water was freezing, he’d laid down and stared at the ceiling, asking Samantha everything that he needed to know, “Was she just caught up in a moment? Does she actually like me? If she likes me, would she even really ever date me?...” Samantha eventually left him and he just thought more questions, vowing that the cat was a traitor that always left him whenever he needed her. She ran past his door and he jumped up. She ran the other way and he rolled his eyes and laid back down. Cats were weird… Like that kiss from Grace. Because, that was weird, right? They weren’t… like that. They were friends. The best of friends, but… friends, yeah?

He would ask her, but they didn't need to elongate her preparation time. He'd ask her at the pumpkin patch. Maybe over some pie and cider…

"All set!" She announced. “I look good, right?” He begrudgingly nodded. “Totally worth the wait!” She added. Now, he just threw her a look of disbelief and she smiled at him, already convinced that her look was worth the wait, whether or not he agreed. It wasn’t like they’d be late. He always arrived much too early to everywhere, including her place when she had to get ready.

Grace's driver dropped them off at the entrance and Grace let him know where and when to get her, many hours later and many miles away. She was on her third driver since her hair incident and this one she knew wouldn't last long, because he bothered her parents too much. The last one didn't touch base enough. The one before that didn't like Simon. She couldn't remember these days how she got rid of him, but not liking Simon was indeed a deal breaker for her. What if he’d told her parents about Simon? What if he’d said something that would prompt them to forbid her to see him? She didn’t think the guy would, but if he might, he had to go.

Whenever they went through the patch, she noted that Simon seemed deep in thought. "Dude, if you're thinking about student council or the cub scouts or something nerdy or pretentious, like war reenactment or your engineering grade; I'm un-dating you today."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "We were cub scouts as little kids. It's just called a scout, now."

"That's all he heard," she said, shaking her head.

"I heard you," he said, rolling his eyes. "Addressing it seemed non-essential. All you did was make a list and throw it at me. You're not leaving me at the pumpkin patch. We do the pumpkin patch every year."

"You're just really not gonna tell me what's on your mind, then."

He opened his mouth, shut it, tilted his head in thought and said, "Last night."

"Last night? Last night was amazing! How can you think about last night and make this face?" She imitated his face but totally exaggerated it to be far more sullen than he knew he looked. He was troubled, but not like THAT. "This is the face I make when I think about last night." She smiled as big as she could smile and pointed to her smile with both of her thumbs. He couldn’t help but to laugh. “You’ve got it, now.”

He stopped laughing and sighed, back to his broody self. “Simon, listen to me. As far as the time we spent together, as far as I’m concerned, last night was THE BEST NIGHT that we’ve ever had!” He nodded his head in agreement. “So, don’t stress yourself out. Be thankful that what started as a really crappy night, thanks to Mom, ended on such a high note!” He blushed.

A high note. They ended the night kissing. It was small, but there was no such thing as a small kiss as a teenager with precisely one friend. She tucked her arm into his. This wasn’t necessarily new, but it felt so different to him now. It felt more romantic. It felt more emotional. He looked at Grace’s smiling face and she looked exactly the same as she always had, but she somehow looked totally different, like he was looking at her with somebody else’s eyes now… somebody in love with her and not just loving her as a friend. Oh God! Was he… in LOVE with Grace? Was that why he was so preoccupied with what that kiss meant? He’d presumed he just wanted clarity of her intentions, as to not taint the friendship or make things incomprehensible, but… He was feeling love feelings!

Within moments, she broke the physical connection and he immediately craved it, but she was rushing towards the line for a hayride, doing a jazz run and chanting, “HAYRIDE, HAYRIDE!” with her fist in the air. He laughed and followed, just running like a regular person, not some kind of pumpkin patch fairy, but also cheering, “HAYRIDE, HAYRIDE!”

Later on, she got a phone call, while she was trying to stuff a handful of popcorn into Simon’s mouth, despite him playfully shoving her away. They both knew he wanted to eat out of her hand. She placed a single finger up to indicate “wait,” tossed the popcorn at his face and only a few pieces went in, while the rest slapped various parts of him. He dusted himself off while she looked at the phone, hesitant. He was going to ask who it was, but she answered, “Hi, Mom?”

She listened for a moment, then her charming voice kicked in, explaining, “Sorry about the gown, I went to this exclusive after party with the best of company and… Oh! Of course you don’t care… Sorry I. Yes mother. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Oh?” She was listening for a little while longer, then said, “Well, I have plans with Sim… uh… some friend…” Simon heard it and instantly turned red, staring at the ground with a dejected glare. “Yes, of course, I’ll be there. Yes. Thank you. I appreciate everything that you do for me.” She hung up and put her phone away, instantly noticing Simon’s change in mood.

“After meeting her, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that that’s the way that you sign off of a phone call with her,” he said, shoving the bag of popcorn her way.

“So, good news!” She cheered, not addressing his comment, but accepting the bag of popcorn.

He looked up and she just KNEW, he was not about to let this go easily. She tried to graze over it anyway. “My mom was just setting up this video chat interview for me for later on…" He raised an eyebrow. "Apparently someone contacted her about the pics you posted this morning, and I just might become a brand ambassador for this holistic health and beauty company to tap into the teen market!" She was extremely excited for a moment, then her excitement died. "But that's stupid. It's skin and hair and makeup and fashion… Like, I'm a dancer? I'm a musician…" his face hadn't changed. "Sorry about the uh, the other thing. It's just… I mean, you've met her now. You can see how she'll act towards you…"

"So, I'm supposed to not feel it whenever you throw me under the bus to save face in front of your mom?"

"I mean… she's not important, to us, Simon. How I have to communicate with her is fake. You shouldn’t feel it. Don't worry about it." She flicked his little ponytail with her fingertips and watched him blush, but he was still glaring at her. She handed the bag of popcorn to some kid passing, and reached under Simon’s hoodie.

“What are you?...” He didn’t get to finish asking, and his widened eyes shut, though he was just as red from her reaching under as he was from her tickling him. “STOP! THAT’S NOT FUNNY, GRAAAAAYYYYEEECE!” She stopped and he fumed for a quick second, then rushed at her and began to tickle her back. She tried to jump over a pumpkin to begin running but he caught her mid jump and declared, “Tickle fight!” She squealed and laughed and fell back onto him and they both crashed to the ground. He groaned and she continued laughing.

“Are you okay?”

“She asked, after laughing very vigorously at my pain.” She got up and held a hand out to help him up. He rubbed his back. “Who’d have thought that a tickle fight could get so rough?” They laughed and continued.

Even later still, Simon was in line for pie, Grace was going to get the hot cider, and they were gonna meet up to have their picnic before selecting pumpkins. She went along, humming to herself and lightly dancing towards the line whenever she bumped into someone. “My bad,” she said, with a smile.

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” He asked, roughly. She glanced around, noting that Simon was out of eye shot, and decided not to escalate, because of it. It was a big guy, older than her. She’d venture to say this was actually a grown man by his features, and he looked like two things - like one of those dudes that flew a Confederate flag from his truck, and also like he had a gun on him.

“I apologize,” she said through smiling teeth. She turned to leave and he mumbled a word at her. She still heard him clearly. Her eyes stung and she turned to glare at him, but he simply gave her a daring smirk until she left.

Shaken up and angry, she got into the line and ordered drinks and a cup holder. She traveled back over to meet Simon, who was setting down stuff for a little picnic, but she shook her head and reached into the bag for her mask. He became alert almost immediately as she took off her sweater. “What happened?” he wondered. This was the pumpkin patch. They kind of were known here and the way that she looked, her mask wasn’t going to hide her identity today. She shook her head, angry and ready to fight as she put the mask on and picked up two of the four ciders.

Simon had just realized that there were four ciders. She had her mask… those two ciders were weapons in her hands “Grace, your interview!” She was breathing hard when she stopped and looked at him. "Don't let someone take that away from you." He walked over to her slowly, removed the mask and took the ciders. “Tell me what happened.”

Breathing hard, she repeated the story for him and he nodded his head. She could tell that he was livid, even though he seemed to be keeping his cool. She got back into her sweater, now that she wasn’t fuming, the undershirt was nothing for this wind. “Where is he?” Simon wondered, with eyes darting around the area. She described the guy, but she didn’t see him around or anything. They sat in silence. She didn’t seem hungry anymore and Simon couldn’t enjoy himself with her like this. “Wanna go?” He asked.

“I’m Grace Monroe,” she said. “I mean… He was some null who probably barely scrapes by for a living, and he calls ME the N word?” She shook her head, “I’ve gotta get away from here. I don’t even feel comfortable here right now.” Simon nodded and packed up his bag. He handed her a leftover cider and she accepted it, but wasn’t drinking it.

He couldn’t ask her more about the kiss and he felt kinda bad that he was even thinking about that while she was going through… something. He couldn’t really tell what she was going through. He only understood this experience in passing and from reading about it. It wasn’t really something applicable to his life, but he was guessing from her reaction that she had not had the experience herself, or she just didn’t often and it shocked her system or something. If she had ever been called that before, she'd never told him about it. She was really… upset. He hated how much. He knew that she would feel weak for it. It hurt him to watch.

They walked for a little bit longer, heading towards the exit when she stopped and narrowed her eyes. Simon looked at somebody who fit the description of the person she described earlier. He was larger than she made him seem, and he just looked extremely mean and probably violent.

Simon passed her up, slid the cider out of her hand and beat her to the punch… or rather, the splash. Simon was so quick the man didn't know he was coming at him until the cider was in his eyes. Dude went down. Simon swung his skateboard at him and hit him with it. Grace looked around, making sure nobody saw him and picked up the bag that Simon dropped.

Nobody seemed to notice them yet, but the guy was screaming, although, she was sure that the cider had cooled down a lot, maybe it was Simon cracking his head with that skateboard. Simon slammed the butt of it into his throat and he started coughing and gagging, but he wasn’t screaming anymore. “We gotta go, Gray Eyes,” she said. Simon nodded once, reached for her hand and she took his, smiling triumphantly as they took off running. They made it far enough away to feel okay pausing and she laughed. “Oh my god, I know you like SERIOUSLY hurt that guy!”

Simon held out his hand, smiling, “And I got you a gift.” It was a lighter. He put it in her hand and closed her hand around it.

"Are you alright though?" She wondered, not smiling now. Simon had been vicious. She had definitely seen him mad before, but this was the most aggressive that she could remember him being and she wondered if… if it wasn't something else.

“I’m never gonna let anybody get away with making you feel bad like that. I've never seen you so upset and helpless. It was like he'd taken your power, and I had to be the one to get it back. You have too much going for you. If somebody noticed you... I don’t know what I’d do if you got into trouble.” It was partially that, partially he felt protective and possessive of her, partially he wanted her to look at him exactly the way she was right now… like he was her king.

“You’re the best friend that anybody could have… You… I’m gonna bring you home to my mom and dad. I’m gonna present you and I’m gonna DEMAND that they treat you with kindness and respect.”

He held out his hand for hers again and she took it, and leaned in closely to him. “I don’t… know if… I want to be your friend…” Simon said.

She frowned and nodded her head. “I definitely get that feeling… But… I think we should. I mean… I think we work really well like we are, and that we shouldn’t mess that up. People turn into boyfriend and girlfriend, then when something bad happens, they hate each other. I can’t have my one person hate me. That would hurt me more than getting caught burning some null.”

His face went through a range of emotions that she wasn’t looking at. She was avoiding seeing his face at the moment. “Are you sure it’s just that?”

“What do you mean?” She asked and stopped walking.

“The way you talked about that racist null… Like he should’ve known better because you’re rich and he’s not. It's the way that the rich kids at the academy talk about me."

“Oh.” She shook her head, “Whenever I say stuff like that, I don’t mean YOU, ever. You were right when you said you deserve to be one of the elites. It’s not your fault that your parents don’t have as much as some of ours, just like there’s nothing I’ve done to deserve it. But, you should know that whatever is mine, anything that I have power over is yours, too, Simon. Anything that I get, I split with you, always. You’re my other half.” She intertwined their fingers and he squeezed them together. He smiled at their hands, but her face suddenly changed to one of... contempt.

She knew that something was bothering him at school, but every time she asked him about it, he’d tell her that everything was fine and that he was glad that she was happy. She should have known that people where being mean to him. They were all just fancily built nulls, flagrantly trying to assert their dominance. Well, not over her Simon. Not on her watch. “Why aren’t we RUNNING the Academy, by now?” She asked him, flustered with thoughts of the past few months being hard on him and her... not even noticing...

“Because you’ve been playing nice and being everyone’s friend instead of showing them who you are and using them like stepping stones,” he said with a shrug. "You’ve hidden your power every time we step on campus."

“Yeah… I’m not doing that anymore. They're not gonna disrespect you as long as I exist. The Apex is taking over the Academy.” He smirked at her and she smirked back. Maybe he didn't need to have her romantically. She had a point - they were still a team, even without a title or the responsibility of romance… no, not just a team… she’d said before, and even tonight that he was "her other half."

They were one.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #Attack in the Pumpkin Patch

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hollyhomburg · 6 years

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Wrecked (PJM)

Summary: Months after your break up, just before a performance, Jimin finds out that you’re seeing someone new through Instagram. His group mates pick up the pieces after that.

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Tags: Breakdowns, Angst, Guilt, Sorta Self-hate, Platonic fluff.

W/C: 1.3k

A/N: I literally wrote this in one sitting don’t be mad at me. Inspired by jimin’s recent performance in Japan where he didn’t (couldn’t?) finish the last lyric in “the truth untold” on stage and this story sort of jumped out at me.

Jimin’s voice hovers on the last line “and I still-” the crowd roaring around him in a sea of lights, faces of his fans only just in shadow, but he falls short, and can’t make his mouth move even if he wanted to.

Jimin is taking off towards the dressing room before the others have even left the still hot stage. The lights barely having dimmed. He tosses his jacket into some soon to be forgotten corner of backstage not even caring that it was worth over 15k. His skin hot and body sweaty from the hours of performance, his temperature rising as his hands started to shake. He knew the others weren’t far behind, he didn’t want them to see him like this, didn’t want them to see him explode with anger.

When he retreats to the safety of the dressing room Jimin curls up, placing his elbows on his knees, laces his fingers through his pink hair and pulls as hard as he can. “Jimin-” Yoongi says from the door before Jimin suddenly straightens from his prostrate stance and swipes his hands across the table, sending glasses, makeup, food, and more than a few phones to the floor in a glorious crash, stomping on his own phone for good measure with the heal of a heavy boot. But it does nothing to sate the vindictive and self-directed anger that rages through Jimin’s chest like a storm.

He’d had to sing that fucking break up song again, The Truth Untold. The one he’d written with Namjoon just after your break up. At first, his emotions had colored the song a gorgeous lilting experience that made it one of the most popular on the album. But today, today his voice had fallen short, closed up against the syllables at the very end the only part that Jimin had written, one of his only edits that stayed the same through every iteration, every draft.

He couldn’t even say the words ‘I still want you’ anymore. Couldn’t, because it wasn’t even true. Jimin didn’t want you anymore, the wanting had faded. For the first few months, it was just a want, just a thought. But now all that’s left in his chest is a pure need for you. A need for your warm body pressed against his, arms wrapped around his neck, your kiss at the end of the day, your smile and your laugh and your everything that Jimin was absolutely wrecked over. He needed you. and Didn’t want to need you but his traitorous heart did regardless. And that had him absolutely enraged.

Namjoon gets his arms around Jimin when he sends everything on the other table crashing to the floor, a lamp knocked over in the corner winking out. Namjoon’s superior strength has always been enough to restrain all of them- even Jungkook. And it's no surprise when he literally throws Jimin onto a couch. He gets right back up and Jungkook’s arms go around him from behind.

“Calm down!” his leader commands but he can’t follow, can’t even see his face through the haze of red. No, not a haze of red, but tears that won’t stop falling. Jimin’s chest heaves an offal jagged noise somewhere between a sob and a gasp.

“Where the fuck did this come from Jimin- why the fuck-”

“-I thought I could handle it hyung, I thought I could handle it if I saw her in someone else’s arms but I can’t.” his tone is broken, heartbreaking, words spat through gritted teeth.

“Jimin- what are you talking about.” Jimin’s gaze drops to his phone, on the floor, its screen cracked. Namjoon picks it up and it opens straight to the picture the last thing he saw right before he walked on stage. The display still works showing your Instagram account, the latest post a picture of you and another man, your face smiling as your cheek is pillowed against another chest, a man who isn’t Jimin’s chest.

It’s kind of shocking even to Namjoon to see you with someone other than Jimin. You’d been such an item. It’s hard to believe that either of you could move on after your relationship, so full of passion and romance that even the boys had to restrain their jealousy. But obviously, you already have moved on, despite the fact that Jimin obviously hasn’t. No matter how much he’d pretended otherwise up until his breaking point tonight.

Namjoon swipes through the pictures, the next one the man preses a kiss to your cheek, just missing the corner of your lip. “She used to hate kisses like that, ones that weren’t on the cheek or the lips- and now she’s with this-this asshole who can’t even kiss her right.” Jimin spits.

Namjoon reads the caption, and Jimin watches him, Jungkook’s still holding him, still watching his hyung like he could get violent again. But all the fight is worn out of Jimin, desolation filling the place where before there’d been fire. Jimin watches Namjoon read the caption. Happy one month to my baby.

“They’ve been dating for a whole month and I didn’t even know.” Jimin sobs. All this time he was sure one day you’d text him, or try to call him or turn up at the company or something. He was sure you’d want him back and now, all this time that he’d been hoping, you’d been falling for someone else.

It wasn’t your fault; none of Jimin’s anger was directed at you. Only at himself. He's the one who was stupid enough to pick the world tour over you. He’d been inconsiderate enough to consistently push you out of his life until there wasn’t even space for you to breathe. He didn’t blame you at all for needing more than one or two texts a week.

The only one to blame was Jimin- and he’d let you go without fighting for you at all and now months later all he can wonder is, How the fuck did he not fight for you more?

“I fucking need her- and she’s in someone else’s arms when she should be in mine. I’m such a fuck up hyung, I couldn’t handle the pressure of someone loving me up close and now-“ Jimin breaks off- but he doesn’t need to continue it. All of the boys know what happened. All of the boys know his next words- and now I have no one to blame but myself.

Jungkook lets him go, sliding to the floor with jimin in his arms. Jimin’s Hands fixing in his knees Fists tightening. No one tells him that he shouldn’t have taken his anger out on his surroundings. Seokjin is still at the door, keeping the staff away, giving them some privacy. But he can hear the murmur of their voices. Their manager pushes through and Seokjin lets him pass. He surveys the devastation Jimin left with an air more similar to curiosity rather than anger.

Jimin sobs in Jungkook’s arms, Namjoon sinks to their level after a moment before he wraps his dongsaengs in a crushing hug, his hands tightening in the back of Jimin’s shirt.

Wordlessly, the boys help him clean up, and when one of the makeup noonas finally strong-arms her way in, sees Jimin’s puffy face and all her shattered makeup bottles he apologizes profusely and says he’ll replace them. Yoongi’s already ordering replacements on his phone as Hoseok sweeps up the glass from the broken light bulb. He knows they all have doubles and spares anyway just in case.

Eventually, he sits up at the couch, Jungkook lets him go, leaving him to wipe away the salt from his face with the back of his hand. Taehyung comes and sits by him and Jimin lets him tilt his face up so that he can see his eyes, one of Tae’s large hands pushes back his bangs as he uses a makeup wipe to clean off Jimin’s smudged makeup, the cool aloe Vera jell a balm against his irritated eyes.

“Need to clean you up,” Taehyung says, voice rough from singing half the night, his expression so concerned, even though Jimin knows he doesn't deserve it, his group has always been good at taking care of one another. Jimin sniffs up at him, not even having to ask why, before Taehyung responds to his unspoken question “Can’t have you looking like that. You’ll never win her back if you look like a wreck.”

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joeys-piano · 5 years

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Writing Update - #1

WIP Formally Began: July 18th, 2019 Date of Update: August 31st, 2019 WIP Intro: Here

Current WIP Status: Outline/WIP Bible Current Status W/C: 65,340 W/C Added: ~5,000 words (this week)

Summary Report: My current project, Survive Said The Prophet, has grown significantly in a variety of ways throughout this week. Not only has the outline grown, but the official summary and title were also finalized and the story has been formally introduced to the Tumblr sphere.

~~~~~~~~~

On August 25th (Sunday), my outline for my conspiracy + sci-fi fic, Survive Said The Prophet, surpassed 60,000 words. The last time I had written this much for any story was either last year or two years ago, when I jumped the gun and tried my hand at writing about organized crime for the first time. Since that endeavour and learning from my experience, I’ve found that approaching stories with an extensive outline beforehand gives me a clearer idea of the arc/character progressions threaded throughout the plot. Although the 60k+ words to that organized crime story will not be picked up again, the experience and the sheer endurance that it took to write it has definitely prepared and laid down a foundation of weaknesses and strengths that I can refer to as I continue outlining Survive Said The Prophet. The formatting of the outline may’ve been an important part as to why I’ve written so much, why I still have the drive and energy to come back to this story, and why the story still intrigues me after putting so much of my time into developing it. Perhaps it’s the nature of the mysteries or how I’ve interwoven worldbuilding between canon hallmarks; whichever the case, coming back to this outline and just writing it makes me feel at ease. It’s been a few years since I’ve felt this way about writing, since I’ve felt this comfortable and sure of myself. Curious to know if it’s experience, if it’s a change in my mindset, a combination of both, or the influence of something else. On this same Sunday — mind you, I was writing as much as I could before the first day of the academic semester — I edited and finalized the summary for Survive Said The Prophet. For the past month or so, I’ve been rewriting and editing different summaries that I felt were decent previews to what’s to come. In my original drafts, I wanted to incorporate quotes that were from the story or quotes from the referenced authors in Bungou Stray Dogs. Before Survive Said The Prophet, many of the summaries I’ve written depended and leaned heavily onto quotes to convey whatever premise I was writing about. However, for this story, I couldn’t do that. I wanted my writing to stand on its own, rather than relying on the words of someone else or from a throwaway line that I’ve jotted somewhere in my outline. The most difficult part about this entire process was having to build a summary from scratch. During the past month, I referred back to previous summaries I’ve written and wondered if I could rework those for Survive Said The Prophet. What I quickly realized was that it wasn’t going to work. The summaries I’ve written beforehand, while they featured worldbuilding elements, weren’t for complex or heavily-involved stories. For the first time in months, I had to completely start from scratch. Unused to the experience, I knew I had to start somewhere. From July 28th to August 25th, I wrote close to a dozen new summaries with different directions, starting points, and different vibes on how to convey the premise of Survive Said The Prophet was to be presented. Keep in mind that for the most part, I didn’t know what the premise of the story was. Although I had jotted it down, it was a very pale reflection to what the actual premise was. Stumped at every corner and unsure what to do, I looked to resources on how to tackle this summary. From Goodreads to YouTube and to eventually IMDb, I found a muse of a summary that gave me an inspirational pause. While searching up thriller movies, I encountered Shutter Island. Reading the summary to that movie cleared the jumbled thoughts in my head, and it helped me realize what I wanted my summary to convey. Shutter Island’s summary began by noting the time and the incident that triggers the start of the plot. Out of all the summaries I’ve searched and read, this was the first one that began in this way. If I had only read the first sentence and nothing else from the movie’s blurb, I would still feel intrigued and would want to watch the movie to see what would happen. To me, the hallmark of a brilliant summary is when the first sentence has that kind of effect on the reader. Amazed and inspired, I began to draft what would eventually become the official summary for Survive Said The Prophet. On August 25th at 3:08 p.m., after editing and revising it so that it could within the character limits of AO3’s summary box, I had accomplished one of the most difficult parts of the outline so far. Now when people ask me what Survive Said The Prophet is about, I no longer have to give an abridged telltale version of what I think the premise is. Now, I have a summary that I can show to them and from what I heard from interested peeps and from my lovely brainstorming partner + muse, the official summary captures the essence of what Survive Said The Prophet is and raises more than enough intrigue to prompt a reader to discover for themselves what the story will be.

Between August 26th to August 28th, not very much happened. With this being the beginning of the academic semester, I didn’t have time to work on my main outline. With this in consideration, I decided to update and work on other aspects of Survive Said The Prophet that have nothing to do with writing. Namely, I wanted to create a wip introduction so I could formally show and talk about what I’ve been working on for more than a month now. I already had the summary completed and I had a few ideas in mind on what the story edits would be. I knew I was going to use a combination of Unsplash, Fotor, and Canva to help me make those edits into a reality, but I didn’t realize how difficult it was going to be and how nitpicky I would become as the wip introduction moved onto its later stages. Initially, the wip introduction was going to list the main characters that were in Survive Said The Prophet. However, after gauging how long the introduction was becoming and wanting to keep things concise and easy, I decided to omit the main characters from the final draft. For several reasons: I wanted to those character introductions in a post solely meant for them, I didn’t like how I was initially going to present them, and this main character segment was a real thorn to my backside so omitting cleared away some stress that was on my mind.

On the night of August 29th (Thursday), I completed my wip introduction and formally introduced Survive Said The Prophet to the public. As nerve-wracking as it was to finally do that, it doesn’t trump the stress that overtook my body a few hours prior as I was editing and formatting the images I used from Unsplash for my story edits. Easily, the most difficult part was finding a book cover template from Canva that I could use. Finding one that didn’t obscure the cover image was as easy as finding a blade of grass, half a centimeter shorter than all the rest. Eventually, I gave up on my search for a template and made the cover page on my own. I probably spent two hours, running the story title through dozens of different fonts and positionings until I was satisfied with the end result. Fortunately, I had late classes on the following day so I was able to stay up and work a little longer than I should’ve. But in the end, I finished what I wanted to do and had the introduction ready to be posted.

On August 30th (Friday), having had minimal contact with my main outline for almost the entire week, I spent a few hours of my morning before lunch rereading where I left off and revised/clarified a few things that I had jotted down beforehand. Notably, I revised an entire scene that involved a private exchange between two characters from conflicting organizations. I had noted along the margins that an anonymous tip had alerted law enforcement of what was going on for one of the members of the private exchange was a wanted criminal. Confused on why I added the anonymous tip and with no apparent lead/backstory on who sent it and why was it sent, it made the latter half of the scene play out as a matter of convenience, luck, and the third-cousin almost removed from Chekhov's family of things writers forget to include. Bothered that I included an anonymous tip so haphazardly into the scene, when it’s that anonymous tip that initiates the midpoint turn in the story, I knew I needed to clean things up. Fortunately, I had already begun that beforehand when I reread where I had left off, adding notes of clarification and fleshing out vague details that I had left behind. Now with a better understanding of how this arc progresses, I knew who the anonymous tip came from, why they sent it, and what the anonymous tipper wanted in exchange. Information is power, especially in a wip with psychological thriller vibes, so now I knew the motive and how events prior to this scene made sense and led up to this moment where law enforcement got involved. Afterwards, while still keeping the essence of the original scene’s intent and what happens, I revised how the second-half would follow and have a much clearer idea who and what triggers the midpoint turn in the story. The confrontation with the protagonist and antagonist — I would argue that there is no protagonist or antagonist in this story but for the sake of simplicity, I will refer to these two characters as such — is much stronger and more pivotal now that clarification has been addressed. Makes me really glad I’m taking my time outlining this story because these are the things that wouldn’t cross my mind if I began writing from the get-go.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing update #survive said the prophet

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aparticularbandit · 5 years

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Current State of Bandit Fic:

This is long, so I apologize to everyone on mobile if that read more does not work and you have to scroll through a really long thing you don’t want to read. Sorry!

Completed JTV Fics (by which I mean completed drafts not completed and posted):

Carla

The rough draft is completely finished.

There are fifteen chapters total.

Some of these chapters are really rough and need a lot of editing.

Okay maybe not a lot but definitely some editin.

I plan to post a chapter every other week hopefully on Mondays.

But honestly idk if I’ll keep track of which Mondays I’ve posted a chapter and which I haven’t unless I have something to alternate them with.

Luisa and the Fox

The second draft is completely finished.

It’s off with my betas.

I’ve mostly let it lie fallow for the past month-ish (or maybe only a couple of weeks idk how long it’s been friends), which means I should be able to come at it with new eyes, too.

There are five chapters total.

However, I do currently plan to have a second connected fic that’s half a direct follow-up and half I just want Luisa and the Fox fluff.

Stuff that didn’t really fit into the fic proper (like the freckles scene).

I plan to post a chapter every other week on also hopefully on Mondays.

The plan is to alternate these with Carla chapter updates, but right now I’m waiting on input from at least one of my betas before posting another chapter.

This may change in the future because I’ve been getting antsy for...a lot of reasons.

In-Progress Posted JTV Fics (by which I mean I don’t have a completed draft):

If You Lived Here, You’d Be Home Now

Now that Carla’s rough draft is finished, polls have said to focus on this one.

These chapters are harder, so hoping to do one a month.

But this really depends on how well the chapter is going - y’all probably noticed a longer wait between chapters 7 and 8 because group therapy was a barrier.

Unlike Carla and Luisa and the Fox, this fic doesn’t really have a chapter-by-chapter plan (and even Carla didn’t until those last chapters...mostly).

So I kind of know what I want to happen through the course of the fic and the order of things but sometimes more set-up is required than just jumping around (or maybe it’s not but I feel like it is).

I have no idea how many chapters are left.

At least seventeen, if my current projections are correct, and that’s dealing with stuff that I feel like needs to be in separate chapters (although I may change my mind on that later), not even necessarily including stuff that I want to sprinkle in among other things (Rose meeting with her therapist, scattered Susanna stuff, etc.), which means it might be longer, it might not be.

And like - even with those seventeen - I feel like some of them definitely warrant some cool-down time between or something like that, so guesstimates would project more than that.

Jane: The Real Story

This was second on the polls as far as things y’all wanted me to focus on.

I don’t plan to schedule updates on this one. They may just happen when they happen.

These tend to be less intensive than the IYLHYBHN chapters, and they may fill in the every other week on Mondays slot when Carla is posted, but don’t hold me to that because I would prefer these to be unscheduled.

I also have no idea how many chapters are left.

I do plan on at least getting into s2 and s3 and potentially dealing with some of the stuff happening in s5 - like the Michael has amnesia! bit because that was part of the original post - but this is subject to change.

Mainly I have plans for that Michael bit and then dealing with Susanna and why Luisa and Rose are gone for a while.

And if this turns into Jane quit telling Mateo lies! then we...need an older Mateo.

I don’t know where/when I plan to end this.

This one is super flexible and I intend to leave it being flexible because I like having it that way.

The Adventures of Rose, the Baker’s Daughter

I like writing fairy tales don’t judge me.

This may jump into the every other week on Mondays slot when Luisa and the Fox is posted, but I may just start immediately into the other Luisa and the Fox fic that I mentioned instead. Not sure on that yet.

I don’t know how many chapters are left.

There are at least seven, but just as with IYLHYBHN, that’s stuff I feel should be segmented into chapters and does not include other stuff that might happen between those chapters (like, for instance, I have a couple of general plot point chapters for later but don’t know all of the interconnected stuff). In this case, I’d expect more than seven chapters. If I finish it. Y’all don’t seem too keen on this one.

There’s a lot of uncertains on this one, too, but I think that’s okay because y’all don’t seem too excited for it.

In-Progress Unposted JTV Fics (by which I mean I don’t have a completed draft):

Everything’s Coming Up Rose’s

90s rom-com au that no one really asked for but I’m over 17k deep into writing so you’ll probably get it anyway.

I mean. Technically it was fourth on stuff y’all wanted me to focus on, actually ahead of The Adventures of Rose, sooooooooo. Y’all want it but when it comes down to only getting one option on things, you don’t.

And you certainly don’t want it more than any of the other proposed aus.

Looking at maybe twelve? chapters.

Already wrote the first two and started the third, as well as having a chunk of chapter...7?? written and a bit that maybe shows up in chapter...8?? and another bit that might show up...in one of the earlier chapters maybe but I’m not sure where to put it yet.

The first two chapters are super rough but I like them, and I like this story. A lot. Which is why it kind of hangs out and still shows up on polls.

AND LIKE. I ACTUALLY KNOW THE WHOLE PLOT. DO YOU KNOW HOW RARE THAT IS.

I don’t know when I’ll start posting this one, and since y’all’ve told me y’all want me to focus on other fics in-progress and other aus, this should be lower on my totem pole but. I like it. So it’s not.

Luisa and the Fox: Shenanigans

Continuation of Luisa and the Fox.

No set number of chapters.

This is here for me to have more with these characters because I like them and there was more I wanted to write with them (originally just the freckles scene, but there’s starting to be some other stuff that I kind of have hanging around in my head that I might do) that didn’t really fit into the original story.

Don’t plan on posting these until after Luisa and the Fox is posted for obvious reasons, and this may fall into the every other Mondays slot once Luisa and the Fox is done. I haven’t decided yet.

Brainstorming JTV Fics (by which I mean they’re primarily in the brainstorming stage but they may have a little bit written for them):

Harry Potter AU

The most requested AU on the poll.

Currently projected to have seven multi-chapter books.

Currently planned to be set concurrent with the original series.

Which means it may be more a crossover than an AU. Ish.

I’ve been rereading the original series so as to get a better idea of how things fit together (and the anti-Slytherin stuff and commentary is so big and I don’t think it stops because even if you bring up Snape it’s in context of we sorted him too soon and he should’ve been in Gryffindor so like. THOUGHTS).

This looks like it will be really long if I keep with this idea and write the whole thing.

Please don’t expect this to be finished quickly.

Please expect that I will likely take breaks to write other things.

Focus is on Clara as the viewpoint character.

I’ve made changes to birth years so that Clara and Luisa are born in the same year.

This does put Luisa a year higher in school than Clara, but since they’re in different houses anyway, this doesn’t really present a problem.

I might be overthinking this.

I’ve started outlining the first book.

I paused at chapter twelve because still figuring out the overarching series plot so the first book plot should tie into that.

I do have a general idea of character arcs for Clara/Rose and Luisa over the series and how that plays into what is discovered by the original trio over the series.

I also have a good idea of what happens in the final battle. It’s the externals that’s causing me more problems than the character-character and internals.

I’ve started the first chapter of the first book, but it’s really rough and probably will have a lot of changes.

Hallmark Holiday Special

The second most requested AU on the poll.

Currently I have a general idea of which version I want to go with.

Those of you who were around in November/December know that there were two variations I was playing with. A lot of aspects of those got retooled and put into Everything’s Coming Up Rose’s - and I mean a lot of aspects of both because I took the Rose from one and the Luisa from the other and meshed those together. However, this means I can take the one that plays the Hallmark tropes straight and not worry about the complications I’d originally planned for that because they come up somewhere else, which. lets me play it more straight.

Straight, hah.

Maybe five chapters?

Off the top of my head thinking about where the chapters would break?

Maybe?

Sounds about right?

Because they’re, like, 1.5hr shows with commercial breaks every fifteen minutes, but each commercial break is like five minutes or more, so there’s like. five segments, right? Something like that? My math on this is probably wrong but. five segments? Maybe?

I could probably jump back into writing this (I did start this somewhere in November/December) but I think I want to retool the beginning for other stuff that I think might mesh better than what I initially did. And it needed to be edited and I should rewrite the beginning anyway, so.

This is just backburner as far as writing because do you see all of the other stuff?

Also there’s -- just because I know what needs to happen in each chapter doesn’t mean I actually have concrete plot for each chapter and I kind of want to know the complication before I jump into writing so I can make sure to get that set up properly soooooooooo we’ll see.

The hope is that I have this set and ready to post in July.

Primarily because the idea of Christmas in July makes me happy.

--and you know what. There are five Mondays in July. I could just have this be what I update weekly in July if there are actually five chapters.

Tentative schedule maybe????

University AU

Tied for third most requested AU with canon-compliant soulmate AU, which is below.

Since the poll for prof/prof or student/student is deadlocked at a tie, I plan to go with prof/prof.

To counterbalance the HP AU, which is a really long extended student/student AU. With a whole bunch of other stuff.

I may do a student/student university AU later, but probably not.

My most recent ideas for the student/student university AU combines with the non-canon-compliant soulmate AU and hit some of the same points that IYLHYBHN does but in a different way with different variations. Ish. So because I still have general ideas for that, maybe, maybe not. Unsure.

This is currently being brainstormed.

I have a general idea for how to start this off.

So, like, the first two chapters, maybe? Or, like, a prologue and the first chapter?

I know how I want Rose and Luisa to meet, which would be the second chapter or...not the prologue.

I have a general idea as far as Luisa’s character.

I have less on Rose as far as concrete aspects, but I may get there.

I might jump into this one before the Hallmark Holiday Special just because it’s lingering in that place where you feel like you could be starting off on writing something and it’s there sort of thing?

Idk, it feels like less fluff than the HHS, which still needs some plot straightened out before I feel completely comfortable jumping back into it.

Canon-Compliant Soulmate AU

Tied for third most requested AU with university AU (see above).

I’m not focusing on this right now.

I know people like the one-shot and want a continuation of that, which is why this was on the poll.

I like the one-shot as a one-shot. I think it is complete as a one-shot. I don’t think expanding on that one will actually make it any better.

Which is why, if I revisited the soulmate timer idea, I’d planned on doing it differently and ended up combining it with the university student/student AU idea.

I do not plan on continuing the one-shot but instead want to deal with other soulmate AU tropes if I do another soulmate AU.

Given that I’d rather play with other soulmate AU tropes, I want to look through general ideas. Once one of those stands out to me as something that could mesh better in the long form for something canon-compliant, I can start better brainstorming.

So I guess this is less in the brainstorming stage and more in the idea collecting stage.

I hang out in the RPC, so I should be able to find one of those soulmate tropes posts at some point. And if not, you have all these other things above to look forward to that are getting more focus than this is.

This, of course, doesn’t include any one-shot ideas or the other aus I listed on that poll (I still really want to do the SG/Tick/JTV crossover because I’ve got ideas for that and how that would work), nor does it include any non-JTV fics I may or may not be writing/editing/etc.

So, basically, lots of content if I can get my butt sat down to write it. We’ll see how it goes because, honestly, looking at all of this is intimidating, and like, I’m excited for...most of these projects but. It’s a lot. It’s a lot.

But I just wanted to update y’all on current projections for these.

#musings #bandit does an update #bandit writes fic #carla stuff #luisa and the fox #iylhybhn stuff #luisa and the fox: shenanigans #jtv: the real story #roisa hp au

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redfoxwritesstuff · 6 years

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Kit’s Writing Diary 2/12/19

It’s been a good while since I’ve done this. I wonder, writing Anon, Buick, you still hanging around with me?

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I wanted to do this. I’d had a anon, maybe it was you Buick (if your still around) that was interested in seeing my process. This has caused me to somewhat dwell on how my writing method has changed and evolved. So before I show what Never Again looked like as a outline, I want to talk about how things have changed, how I used to write and after how I write now.

When I first came back to writing, about 9 months ago or so, I didn’t outline. I jumped in whole heart without a plan. I had a vague idea, maybe a few key scenes and a blank word document. Off I went. Often I ran out of steam, got lost along the way and such.

I’d post within hours of finishing with only a quick read over. You can see the results of this in Medicine and it makes me cringe a bit rereading it. Now, I know it could totally benefit from a total rewrite. I don’t write like that now.

What changed and why?

Well, firstly- I was just getting my feet under me again. I’d not written anything beyond business correspondence for years. But for the first time I was writing. Writing is a skill in addition to a talent. I believe with my whole heart that anyone can learn to write. Talent sure as hell helps but it is a skill that can be learned.

But to learn you must do. So what I was doing was 100% okay for where I was at the time. I was learning. I was flexing the skill. I was writing first a few times a week, then more and more until I was writing damn near every day for long and longer periods of time. And that was good, even if the product isn’t so much up to my current standards.

Why? Because I was building that habit. I was learning to put ideas and plots together. I was learning the foundations of what would come later.

Yeah the pacing is a bit mucked up. Yeah it’s got maybe 3 stories worth of comas. But it was a start and we all start somewhere.

After that, I began giving myself a schedule and forcing myself to properly edit. Then I learned to give myself time between writing and the proper edit. I could go back and revise as much as I wanted but I had to have a week at least between the draft’s last touch to when I properly edited it.

Lastly was learning to outline. At first it was just a few key plot points. Dialog that stuck out. But more and more as I develop I start out with a nearly developed full outline of what I expect to happen. Sometimes things go off the rails. Normally they come back to the path. They stay closer to the path and stray less and less as time passes. Because my ideas are more solid now.

First it was a outline of what I wanted to happen in the chapter as I worked. Then it was a outline of the basic idea for a one shot. Now? I’ve got two series with nearly complete outlines.

For the last half of Song I had a nearly complete outline I was working off of. I was no longer working off fragments nor small chapter outlines.

As I progress into using outlining more and more I find that I’m more and more satisfied with the final draft and am only making minor changes. Before during editing and revising I would add 500+ words. Now I’m more and more adding only a few 100 words, fixing spelling and odd wordings.

Now I move into Forgotten (A clint x oc WIP not released) and Clover and Lace (Steve x oc WIP also not released) and they are both full multi chapter series and have nearly if not totally complete outlines.

Below, you’ll see the outline for Never Again as I preserved it. Strike through text was changed after the initial outline when I reviewed it a few days later. Because the draft was written off a full outline, I made very little changes between the initial drafting and when posting so I do apologize in that I didn’t bother to keep a pre-edit draft.

Never Again (Outline)

“Proposing on Valentine’s Day…how original.” And “What are you doing? Why are you on one knee? Get up! Get up!”

Plan • background. Loki and oc dated. 1. Broke up a year ago because Loki was being a selfish ass 2. and emotions are hard 1. he was sure she’d never find someone better 2. she’d come back 3. she loved him after all 4. and he loved her 3. she didn’t come back 1. She found someone else 2. she’s been with paul Gregfor the last 7 months. 3. He’s nice 4. he’s sweet 5. He’s perfect 6. He’s not loki. And that’s bad. • Fancy dinner on Vday. 1. Wine 2. Food 3. It’s perfect 1. But it isn’t because Paul Greg isn’t Loki • Loki’s watching from a table not too far away but she doesn’t see him. • Desert comes. 1. There is a ring around a chocolate straw in the icecream sunday. 1. Paul Greg gets on one knee. OC “What are you doing? Why are you on one knee? Get up! Get up!” 1. Loki: Proposing on Valentine’s Day…how original 2. She freaks because Paul Greg isn’t Loki and she doesn’t want him. She want’s loki but even now Loki’s being an ass. 1. “What are you doing here?” 2. “Watching the best thing I had chose someone else.” 3. Bickering, she tells paul Greg she can’t marry him, she can’t be with him. 4. Leaves with Loki.

#kit's writing diary #kit's diary

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sherlock-one-shots · 7 years

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Evermore (Sherlock X Reader)

I have other requests lined up and, I promise, I’m working on them, and with my new job, it’ll be a little easier to get a routine going, now that my hours are much steadier, but the kids at work were watching Beauty and the Beast (the new one, which I have yet to watch all the way through yet (whoops!)) and this is the song I came in on and I’ve been.

OBSESSED! OBSESSED, obsessed, obsessed. This song almost moved me to tears and I hadn’t seen the whole movie, and listening to it now, I knew I just HAD to write something for it, and I can’t wait, so here it is.

This begins before he meets John, and he kind of meets John in the middle.

Also, heads up, it’s lengthy…like, 2,000 something words…a good four pages, almost five…it’s a lengthy oneshot

Inspired by ‘Evermore’ from “Beauty and the Beast” sung by Dan Stevens

Also, sorry about spelling and/or grammar mistakes. I wrote this late at night ? early in the morning.

~*~*~*

I was the one who had it all

I was the master of my fate

I never needed anybody in my life

Independence. Solitude. Isolation.

Things Sherlock Holmes learned to value at a very young age and things he enjoyed well into his adult life.

Until Her.

They met late one evening, walking down a darkened sidewalk together, side by side. She didn’t think he would notice her speeding up so that she fell into step with him, walking beside him instead of behind him like a normal stranger would have done.

He realized why quickly, watching her from the corner of his eye wringing the strap on her handbag and watching the street paranoid.

Dark, London street, a woman alone. Sad that she had to worry, but he looked ahead, slowing down so that she could walk beside him without having to jog.

She thanked him once they reached a street lamp. She was grateful, a kind smile making its way to her lips as she nodded in goodbye.

He didn’t know why he did it. He looked forward to walking alone, especially at night. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone to bother you at night.

He was looking forward to his walk alone.

He took a step forward, calling out to her and offering to walk her the rest of the way home.

She didn’t argue.

Nightly walks became afternoon walks, afternoon walks became coffee, coffee became lunch, lunch became dinner, dinner became night’s in, staring at Sherlock’s wall, evidence, maps, and everything related to his current case.

She rearranged things while he thought, trying to make the pieces connect. Often times she helped him, repeating certain aspects until they both came to the realization and rushed to Scotland Yard to deliver the news.

And he helped her as well, writing novels based loosely on the crimes they solved together, ones that he demanded to read the rough draft of and edit for her.

“Are you serious?” Mycroft’s words echoed in his brain, even now, after so long. “This will only cause you pain. She will only cause you pain.”

He didn’t believe him.

I learnt the truth too late

Happy. That’s how he would have described himself. Happy. Happier than he had ever been, and she would have said the same.

The happiness shattered as her voice rang through the flat, angry and loud. He was gritting his teeth as she grabbed her coat, the door slamming behind her saying much more than she did, saying what she didn’t.

He was angry, stomping through the flat, slamming doors and making messes wherever he went, packing her things into a box he emptied and throwing it outside of the flat, onto the landing where she would definitely see it if she decided to come back for it.

“This will only cause you pain.”

He knew Mycroft wasn’t a complete idiot, but he hadn’t believed him for a second.

It was too late now to head the warning.

I’ll never shake away the pain

I close my eyes but she’s still there

I let her steal into my melancholy heart

It’s more than I can bear

It had been one month since then. One month since Sherlock heard her sniffles coming from the other side of the door as she picked up her things and carried them off, never to return.

Rings were forming around his eyes, the lack of sleep beginning to catch up with him. His vision was blurry and lids dropped

He couldn’t sleep. He had tried before, laid in bed and closed his eyes, only to see her minutes later in a dream, smiling and happy, memories flashing behind his lids that he couldn’t stop, ones that made his jump away, an aching in his chest.

Then anger would make an appearance, not at anyone in general, just an anger that made its way into every word he spat, into everything he did. He had let her in, he finally let someone in, let them know everything, he deepest secrets, his plans, goals, feelings, something he never talked about.

And now she was gone. He let her in and she was gone from him, that support, that love, the one person he could talk to was missing now and wanted nothing to do with him.

Anger would move back to the back burner just long enough for the ache to return and have Sherlock gripping the blankets, wide awake, trying to breath normally.

The pain, he knew, wouldn’t go away. But he would have to hide it. He would have to do his best to ignore it and hope to God that he would be alright.

Now I know she’ll never leave me, even as she runs away

She will still torment me

Calm me

Hurt me

Move me

Come what may

He took a deep breath as Anderson explained, in no order whatsoever, what he thought happened.

Sherlock didn’t have time for this. He had the information, he just had trouble piecing it together. That combined with Anderson’s ramblings made his frustration almost unbearable.

The eviction notice on his door this morning didn’t help much either.

He reached into his pocket, opening his mouth to say something he really, really shouldn’t have, when his fingers came into contact with something soft in his pocket. He rubbed the soft cloth between his index finger and thumb and his mouth closed quickly, eyes leaving Anderson and looking towards the pavement as he rubbed the cloth some more.

It was from her scarf. It had ripped during one of his cases. He meant to give the piece to her, considering it was her favorite scarf.

It seemed he never got the chance.

Frustrations and anger melted away as he touched the familiar fabric, tension in his shoulders leaving and he looked back to Anderson, who stared at him strangely.

Before Anderson had the chance to ask why Sherlock acted so strangely, Sherlock excused himself, telling another officer to let Lestrade know he would be in contact.

She was gone. She left, never coming back, but she never left. Not really. She still had a hold on him and he didn’t know whether to let her go, or to keep that last piece he had of her.

He had tried before, just moving on, but it was a lost cause. She was everywhere.

Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk back in

And be with me forever more.

There were days where cases were not available. Those days, Sherlock tried to make himself busy, but he found that at the sound of every footstep, every creak outside of his front door, he would turn quickly, hoping it was her, back again to stay, this time.

It was usually the landlady, scolding him for noise and telling him to get out in the sun, pushing back the curtains and letting light inside.

She tried to clean some, too, being as helpful as possible considering the date on his eviction notice was fast approaching and he had done nothing but find another flat somewhere else.

Isolation had become something of value to him once more, and Bart’s was the one place where isolation wasn’t just a fantasy. Even at his flat he was never really alone for long periods of time. And, while Molly fumbled around every so often, she was quiet. She reminded him of her, her mannerisms, her helpfulness, her flirting (quite awful flirting, he might add). He almost couldn’t help the mean remarks that flew from his mouth sometimes. Sometimes he wanted to apologize, sometimes he didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t see Molly, he saw her.

The doors swung open, Mike Stamford entering with a smile and another man in tow.

A flatemate.

I race against the trials of love

I curse the fading of the light

Though she already flown so far beyond my reach

She’s never out of sight

He rarely got on social media. He had an account, one that she had made for him before the split. She made it as a joke, but he used it, just to see what people he tolerated were up to, sometimes it helped crack cases wide open.

She was one of the few people he followed. He didn’t know why he logged in in the first place, but he made sure no one could tell he was online at all.

He scrolled through, wondering if she was alright.Then he saw it.

He stopped scrolling just as her hair came into view, blowing in the wind. He scrolled a little further, seeing the picture completely.

She was happy, grinning from ear to ear with someone else, the man’s arm around her waist while she hugged him tightly.

He stared at the photo for a moment before closing the computer and sitting back.

She had moved on. She was gone, the light in his darkness several months ago. Now her light was fading from him, belonging to someone else and lighting their way.

However, her career was soaring. Three books published now, and it was nothing for Sherlock to turn on the telly and see her on another channel, talking about her novels. Never once did she mention him directly. She always referred to him as a ‘dear friend’, but, though she didn’t mention him and though he couldn’t speak to her, it brought him some comfort just to see that she was well and happy.

She will still inspire me

Be apart of everything I do

He put the bow down, scribbling something on the paper quickly before repeating the few measures he had finished that morning.

John complimented the piece, sitting down to eat his breakfast, not bothered by the playing. It was the first time Sherlock had played since then.

Sherlock didn’t thank him, only nodded, playing again.

John asked for the title and Sherlock mentioned a name quickly before playing louder, drowning his roommate out. John shifted in his seat, seeing her name printed on the paper. It held no significance to John, he had never heard the name before, but he didn’t question it as Sherlock moved his body to block John’s view.

Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

Mrs. Hudson reminded Sherlock of his old landlady, Mrs. Hudson was, however, much kinder and more understanding. She knew her, she knew what happened, and could tell that, when the dark circles were returning, she was a sensitive subject and that Sherlock had seen her recently.

Mrs. Hudson would come up often, bringing up clients.

She usually mentioned that it was a client, but some mornings she mentioned that there was a guest for Sherlock. His head would snap to the door at the sound of heels, only to see another woman standing there, not her.

His door was open all the time. It bothered John at first, he wasn’t used to just leaving the flat door wide open, but Sherlock demanded it be, at least, ajar. Whenever it was open, that was when you knew he was in and that you were more than welcome to barge in.

He didn’t want that to change.

She was more than welcome to come back, he would welcome her with open arms, no matter what happened. If she returned in two weeks, two years, twenty years-he would be here. Always, just waiting, even though part of him knew it was a lost cause.

I fool myself, she’ll walk right in

And as the long, long nights begin

I’ll think of all that might have been

Waiting here for evermore

A bit of courage allowed John to speak up about the piece that had rang through the flat for the past few weeks. Sherlock hadn’t given it up and had finally finished the beautiful, melancholy, and haunting piece.

“Sherlock?” John asked. Sherlock only hummed, not turning as he made the final touches to the piece.

“What is the name of the piece?” He asked. “I saw a woman’s name, but,” He trailed off.

“’Y/N.’” He answered simply, folding the piece and putting it in an envelope.

“Who was Y/N?”

Sherlock took a deep breath, dealing the envelope quickly. “A dear friend.”

~*~*~*~*~

You opened the mailbox, wrapped in your robe as He packed the rest of his things and put them in a car.

You didn’t look as he drove away. You only grabbed the mail, seeing the envelope on the top, familiar hand writing scrawled across the top. You ripped it open immediately, pulling out the sheet music inside, your name across the top as the title.

You suppressed a smile as you walked inside, holding the music close, leaving the rest of the mail in the box.

It is currently one in the morning.

I have to be up at seven for work.

But this had to get done.

I might revisit this, I don’t know how I feel about it yet. Like, I really like this idea, I think there were things I could have done differently, but I’m so excited about it at the same time, I don’t know, I’ll see in the morning.

It’s lengthy, it’s sad, but hopefully it was a good read…? Please leave some feedback on this one, I want to know what you guys think about it. This is my first ever song fic, so I’m in brand new territory.

Also, I’m really sorry if it’s cutting sentences off on some devices? I found a new program to write on, but it seems like it’s coming with it’s own issues as well.

#bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock reader insert #bbc sherlock reader inserts #sherlock oneshot #bbc sherlock oneshot #reader x sherlock #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #reader x sherlock holmes

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