#i had this sitting in my drafts since january with nothing but the words
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londonhalcyon · 4 months ago
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Fic Writer Interview (20 Questions)
This tag game passed by twice, once in January (because apparently this post has been sitting in my drafts that long) and again several months later, so forgive me for not remembering who to tag! These questions seem fun, so if anyone wants to join, feel free to say I tagged you!
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
20 at the moment, with plenty more WIPs.
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
480,895 words and counting.
3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Not counting TMW bonus content, the top 5 are:
The Mad Witch (758 kudos)
"The Scarlett Cauldron" (77 kudos)
"Fear Itself" (76 kudos)
"The Most Powerful Witch" (72 kudos)
"Piper's Best Worst Day" (57 kudos)
4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I try to! I love engaging with my readers and other members of the fandom. Every comment always makes my whole day. Life gets busy sometimes, so I don't always have the time to respond to every single one, but I definitely see and appreciate all of them!
5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
Usually my fics have fairly hopeful endings, but "3 Years Ago," a pre-canon Murdered: Soul Suspect fic might fit the bill. Sometime in the future, it has the potential to be topped by "Will of the People," a Fallout 4 WIP that revolves around the Diamond City anti-ghoul riots.
6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?
My Secret Santa fics, "It's Not the Fall" and "Flawed Phials," definitely have the fluffiest endings!
7. Do you write crossovers?
Nope!
8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?
I get rude or condescending comments on occasion from people who don't know how to hit the back button and/or are unfamiliar with fandom etiquette, though nothing actively malicious. The one time I received a transphobic/homophobic message in response to TMW it was private (if it was public, I would have deleted it; I don't give a platform to that kind of thing at all), and honestly I hope that person is in a better place now because they really didn't seem okay at the time. I'm fortunate that the vast majority of my readers and mutuals are such wonderfully amazing and kind people.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Yes, BUT, before you get too excited, not in The Mad Witch. Smut is by definition graphic, and TMW has a Teen rating that shall remain unchanged.
The smut scenes I've drafted so far (F/F and F/M) are for my Rosemary Reaper series (post-canon Fallout 4 WIP). Those fics will all be rated Mature, so while not overly explicit, they'll definitely be spicier than TMW. Maybe I'll share a snippet sometime if there's any demand for it.
10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of?? I have long since deleted my Wattpad account, so my fics should only be on AO3. If anyone ever finds one of my fics elsewhere in the wild, please let me know.
11. Have you ever had a fic translated?
I have not, which is probably for the best. I would like to make some heavy edits to the beginning of TMW when I'm done with it.
12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Not a fic, though I have co-written a short fantasy story with a friend, with him writing for one POV character and me for another. We agreed on major actions and story beats, but we each kept a major secret that we didn't reveal until after we had written our individual parts. It was a lot of fun (though we were both painfully unskilled at the time).
13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?
I don't know if I really have one. I have ships I enjoy and characters I like to pair with OCs, though nothing I feel properly obsessive over. This might be a consequence of primarily writing for video game fandoms. But I do have my default game romances: Merula in HPHM, Piper in Fallout 4, Marcurio in Skyrim, etc. I'm also a sucker for unrequited love interests, like Serana in Skyrim and Aveline in Dragon Age 2. The ANGST.
14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
I never want to say never because I'm currently 83,435 words into the last fic I said I would never write. But there are two fics that I'm almost certain I will never finish, which I'm kind of sad about: my post-canon Murdered: Soul Suspect longfic, A Certain Darkness, and my RWBY OC team longfic, DSRT.
I made it just shy of 200,000 words into A Certain Darkness before I had to drop it. My writing skills ended up surpassing the progress I had made, and by the time I realized how many characters, relationships, and plot points were just straight up bad, I had written myself into a corner. I do love Joy and Angel so much, a medium/ghost duo with way more homoerotic tension than my closeted teenage self ever intended. Maybe one day I'll gut the story, drop the characters into a different setting, and make it something original. One day.
DSRT ran into a similar problem, though fortunately I only ever wrote the first few chapters. I could probably reattempt it if I really wanted, but with the overwhelming number of WIPs I already have, it's hard to imagine finding the time. I do miss my team of teenage idiots: Dustin, Saul, Rosemary, and Talos. It was supposed to have a really tragic ending too, which I don't often get to write.
15. What are your writing strengths?
I often receive compliments on how human I make my characters feel, which is the highest honor anyone could give. I've been told my dialogue frequently flows smoothly too.
16. What are your writing weaknesses?
Conciseness. Why is this post so long omg.
17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
Do it carefully and with necessity. Maybe a character is bilingual and blends languages, so it's part of their characterization. Maybe a password or spell needs to be said in another language because it's old or pretentious. It can work, but it can also be easy to mess up. I personally avoid writing dialogue in languages I don't have a good grasp of, or I try to consult other people if I do (not Google Translate, which sucks).
There's also the matter of if the POV character even understands the language being spoken. If they don't, then I don't write the language out (unless it's a phrase the character is going to learn later on). In these instances, it makes more sense to write something like, "The man muttered a phrase in a language she didn't recognize," or "She fired off something in Spanish, the words too quick to catch."
18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?
Star Wars the Clone Wars, baby! I was like ten or eleven. Never published, but my worldbuilding for that longfic (a saga, more like) was insanely elaborate. Alas, another story for the WIP graveyard.
19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?
Eventually, I want to get back to my Skyrim WIP, which includes a main Dragonborn/Marcurio ship. Maybe even with a little Dragonborn/Serana infidelity on the side (which Marcurio absolutely does not deserve, the poor guy).
20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?
I mean, I have to say The Mad Witch, don't I? That fic is where my community is, where every time I post a chapter I have a ton of people who get excited about it with me. It is the story I think about constantly, that I have spent literal years writing and daydreaming about. No matter what I've written before or will write since, this will be the defining fic in my journey as a writer.
That, and I have a special fondness for "Case by Case." I just think it's neat.
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christinescupofcoffee · 2 months ago
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a completed work — the original now it’s dark trilogy (now it’s dark, who cares wins, and be all end all)
started â€” September 2019 | completed: January 2020 | genre â€” science fiction, noir, cyberpunk posing as fanfiction | pov â€” 1st person perspective | status â€” third draft | currently â€” completed! | themes — poverty, death, mind control, manipulation, mad science, family dysfunction, the rise of ai/terminator-bladerunner type stuff, ecoterrorism
blurb | Joey hasn't always had it easy. Fresh off the boat from his singing duties in Anthrax, he finds a battered young woman in a storm drain. After taking her to shelter, he runs into a gentleman named Lars Ulrich, whom, as he finds out knows a thing or two about the woman in question. Thus ensues two fellows' journey through hell and back again.
excerpt | "Kill me now," is what I say as I stare out the window. The rain is my one true friend now. It's been a while since I've been able to make a good friend on top of this--I'm sure everyone knows about it, the whole thing where if someone, and by someone I mean myself, wasn't en route to a college or a university, or working a job already, they were kind of left out in the cold. Sure, there have been plenty of acquaintances, but as far as someone I could sit with and feel myself to be true with them, it's been a while. The whole twisted thing about everything that happened was that it happened so quick. It was four years ago Scott and Frank told me I could hold the microphone in my hand. Four years ago, and last year we may as well have hiked up to the North Pole and stood up a big black flag with the word "NOT!" emblazoned on it, beholding the fact we had conquered the world in the wake of Cliff's ashes. We rose up like the phoenix, and I was the man on fire.
There is absolutely nothing like standing out in the rain with all of your things taken out from the studio, slung over your shoulder, and your old band mates were the ones throwing you out there into the darkness while the gutters overflow over your head. There isn't a feeling like it.
And if anyone believes that I had had enough, know for a fact I was asked to leave. I had vowed to rid of the problem, to replace all of the booze with black coffee. I mean, Jesus, I like to have fun with this sort of thing. What's the point of doing it if I'm not going to have a little fun with it all every now and then? And it's not like I was drinking a ton so to speak--at least I wasn't doing those drug loaded pirate raids the four of them would do with Skid Row and Ratt. But I specifically recall telling Scott, verbatim, after he threatened to leave if I did nothing, that I would not have a sip of alcohol as long as I was a member of the band. And yet, for whatever reason, that promise did not suffice or click with any of them.
I think the sound of my phone ringing this morning and waking me up will haunt me for as long as I live. I still hear Charlie's voice on the other end, telling me it was official. They had made the decision behind closed doors and I had been thrown out on my ass as of that morning, but he never elaborated why.
The next thing I remember was asking him why and the sound of the other end hanging up.
note: this is the one. This is the fic I come back to quite often, mainly because it was such a watershed moment for me. It made me realize that I have the weirdest ability to tell a story from a guy’s point of view (which in turn made me realize that my concept of gender is way more permeable and fluid than I had realized before). It was the last thing I wrote before the pandemic hit. I made inktober art for it, which Joey himself noticed on instagram and then talked about it on Jamey Jasta’s podcast on my birthday.
When I go back and read it, it’s astounding how important it is for me, personally and as a writer. It’s arguably my magnum opus.
And you’re not misreading that, either, I literally wrote the whole three books in four months.
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d3c0mp0siti0nn · 2 years ago
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First Draft/Central Idea
So originally this was just a little one shot thingy I wrote back in January on the 23rd but I ended up falling in love with the idea and it went from this to a huge writing project with 4 parts, and currently 15 chapters [I haven't made the outline for part 3 yet lol] it has two endings and a reversed ending. It's embarrassing that it's a self insert but oh well. Like I said, I wrote this back in January and it was just a little thing that I wasn't gonna post and it ended up turning into something so much bigger- it's more of a central idea and I had to change it a bit to make it line up with the current story so I'm sorry if it doesn't make any sense. Personally, I think it's bad. I think it's probably the worst and most embarrassing thing I've possibly ever written lol [Again, apologizing for the bad writing, I didn't expect to post this and thought it was just gonna sit in my Google docs forever but I edited it this morning and thought I would share it and see if ppl wanted to know more ab the story.] [[Sorry if it's out of character or anything I haven't actually *played* Ragnarök yet and am going off of videos and fanfics I've seen lmao]]
Word Count: 3,116
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Miles doesn't really remember how he ended up in this sort of predicament. Where he currently was, he was laying down in his bed and next to him was a shirtless Heimdall with his back facing Miles.
It was
certainly odd. He hated Heimdall, he was the right hand man to Odin, who ruined his entire life and yet
he couldn't seem to actually spark any hatred for Heimdall no matter how hard he tried. He was still sorta in denial, but deep down Miles loved Heimdall's beautiful fluorescent purple eyes. He wanted to braid his hair and run his hands through it, they looked soft. He wanted to connect all his freckles with his fingers and name the ones that resembled constellations. He wanted to be there for him when he was having a bad day. There was so much Miles wanted to do with Heimdall, he wanted to show him gods can be kind.
Yet- Miles still really doesn't understand why he feels this way, or really how he ended up here. All Miles remembers is being in the tavern as drunken Thor talked about nothing important but Miles stayed feeling the tiniest sliver of pity for the man. Miles was only in Asgard because of Atreus, they had recently become close and this gave Miles a chance to search Asgard for something, anything to break the curse put on his family.
As Thor continued to go on and drown himself in mead, Miles’s eyes drifted around the room. They eventually fell upon Heimdall. He was sitting on a bench with a fur thing over it. He had a book in one hand and an apple in another. Miles turned his gaze back to Thor, thankfully he had passed out on the table. Miles got up, grabbed his cane and walked behind where Thor sat and gave him two harsh pats on the back. He made his way out of the tavern to go explore Asgard, it had been almost four hundred years since his last time there so there was bound to be new things. Even if Miles didn't wanna admit it, Asgard was sorta beautiful. It was weird because it felt so warm here, yet out in Midgard it was Fimbulwinter. It was obviously Odin's magic, but still.
As Miles walked around Asgard he just took it all in, the beauty of life, the way the breeze made the trees and grass dance– just everything. Miles came upon a towering, beautiful tree. It seemed familiar, like he has seen or heard about it before. Miles limped around the tree running his finger over it, observing it. Then he felt something rough under his fingers. It was a heart carved in the tree. As cute as that was it was kinda rude to the tree. Oh well. Inside the heart was "H+M"...ha that's a funny coincidence. Miles's eyes traveled down a little bit and they had more. "-Heimdall (for if he stumbles upon this he'll know it's me)"
Miles made a "hmm", "I wonder who *he* is?" Miles whispered to himself as he made his way around the tree. There were so many carvings, one said- "Am I stupid to like someone so below me?" Yup that was Heimdall alright. "Who could this possibly be about?" Miles wracked his brain for anyone who Heimdall might’ve taken an interest in and yet he came up with nothing. The carvings were very old, they must've been when he was pretty young. At the front of the tree there was a tiny piece of rolled up paper in a tiny little hole in one of the branches. Miles pulled it out and unrolled it, it read:
*"It seems as if things never change. It's been 384 years since I last saw or heard anything from or about him and yet I still feel myself drawn to come visit the tree. I have a feeling he might stumble into my hand soon. I wonder if he's seen this tree? It's all futile to l̶o̶v̶e̶ like such a pathetic god like him and yet I do. He's so below me and yet I feel a strong urge to see him. The one thing I hope is that he doesn't find this.*
*-Heimdall"*
Miles laughed a tiny bit at it. The thought of Heimdall being head over heels for someone was certainly amusing. Maybe Miles could use this against him the next time they had an argument. Miles plopped down at the front of the tree, it was a good sitting spot. Miles grabbed his book and started reading
About an hour later he heard footsteps coming behind the tree. He didn't really feel like looking so instead he just decided to let them find him. The footsteps were slow and gentle he heard a small little laugh to the right of him, where the heart and initials were. Huh, it was Heimdall. I don't think I've ever heard him laugh normally - Miles thought. Heimdall heard it and sorta stomped over to Miles. When he saw who it was he froze and his purple eyes went wide. "What are you doing here?" He spat out. Miles briefly looked up from his book. "Reading. Am I not allowed to read here? Is this your tree or something?" Heimdall looked to the tiny hole that had the note, it was still there and seemed untouched. Heimdall sighed in relief, though it came out more of a huff. Heimdall started to walk away when Miles, still looking at his book, said- "Who's M?"
Heimdall stopped in his tracks. "What." He said with a slight annoyance to his tone. "Who's the other person you carved your initials with?" Heimdall rolled his eyes and took a peek in Miles’s mind, he thought Miles was just playing dumb but he wasn't. He genuinely didn't know it was him, he had even read the note and yet still. He's so dumb - Heimdall thought. "That's none of your business." Heimdall said as he stood proud. "In your note you said you haven't heard from him in 384 years. You must've written that 11 years ago. Is this 'M' person dead or something?"
Heimdall rolled his eyes yet again. "No." Miles made an 'Ah' sound. "It's kinda funny thinking about you falling for someone." Miles said as he laughed a tiny bit while he flipped the page. "I mean the Heimdall falling for someone. It's fucking comical." A tiny part of Heimdall was a bit annoyed that he didn't realize it was him. Miles got up and put his book away and grabbed his cane which he had propped up on the tree. "I'll leave you alone now. Don't worry I won't tell anyone or anything. The fact that you have feelings is between me and you." Miles giggled a tiny bit before he limped off.
"Wait." Heimdall said. Miles turned around. "Did you say something?" - "Come back." Heimdall said a bit harshly. "Okay
" Miles walked back up to where Heimdall was. "What is it?" Miles said as he stood there, waiting for Heimdall to respond.
"It's you." He said blankly. Miles cocked his head to the side a bit. "What's me?" Heimdall groaned. "You're 'M'. The H and M in the heart stand for 'Heimdall and Miles'. I carved it when we were young. The other carvings I did 11 years ago." Miles laughed. "Ha. Yeah right. Funny joke, Heimdall." Miles looked in Heimdall's eyes as he laughed. Eventually Miles’s laughing faded. "Oh
you're– you're serious?" Miles nervously laughed. "I'm gonna go to uhm- to bed." Miles said as he limped away despite it being mid-day.
Once Miles made it back to his bed he threw off his shoes and immediately just fell on his bed. He laid on his back as he recalled what just happened. He wasn't quite sure how to feel. The right hand man to the man who stole everything from him had feelings for him
?
When Miles and Heimdall were 15, they were practically attached to the hip. Miles had heard of Heimdall, but he had just lost his family barely a year prior and he was vulnerable. Then Heimdall came along, and he was sweet and caring and it seemed like they were made for each other. Miles ended up foolishly falling in love with him. Somewhere deep down, Miles knew exactly who Heimdall was- but he was far too blinded to realize. Eventually, word got around to him and he was informed of who Heimdall was. It was terrible. He felt like such an idiot for not realizing sooner. None of it was real- what Miles felt for Heimdall was real but Heimdall's 'love' and 'affection' was all just a facade, something to pull in him closer and give him a false sense of security. So Miles, 16 and hurting, moved to Alfheim and told no one.
Miles had written something for Heimdall he was gonna send his way as a sort of explanation but he just never did. He was far too upset and didn't think Heimdall really *deserved* an explanation.
Miles flipped through all his memories with Heimdall from when they were young. They were nice. Miles never had the chance to make memories with someone close to him, given that as some cruel punishment Odin erased his family's memories of him all together. So with Heimdall he was able to make lasting memories with someone, ones that wouldn't be erased and thrown away as if they meant nothing.
He felt his eyes fill with tears just at the thought of his family. They were the only people to ever unconditionally support him and love him. He was called weak and useless and thrown away all the time simply because he couldn't do what the other gods did. He was cursed to live in the body of a woman with the soul and mind of a man and even though his family could never fully understand it they were there for him when it got hard and they helped him through it for 14 years. One day Miles got fed up with Odin's torture and went to see him. It ended in him going on an insane rampage, tearing down building after building, statues of the "great" Aseir gods, fighting Baldur, Thor, ect just quite literally tearing Asgard to shreds.
It's actually a surprise that Heimdall still felt the way he does after all that. Even after Miles tore down the place he loved so much and had such pride in, he still loved him. It was funny, really. The two of them were in a similar situation when it came to each other. They should hate one another but they couldn't bring themselves to even dislike them.
A light knock on his door made him shoot up. "Come in!" The door slowly opened, it was Heimdall. Miles laid back down. "Hi." Miles didn't know what else to say because he still wasn't quite sure how he felt. His brain, his mind knew that he was also in love with Heimdall but he just couldn't admit it. Heimdall sat at the edge of Miles’s bed. The both of them just sat there in silence, breathing in sync.
Miles eventually got the confidence to look at Heimdall. When he did his hair was all messy and his braids were kinda undone. He was sweating slightly. He must've been practicing sparring.
*I wanna braid his hair.*
Heimdall tensed up a bit and Miles could swear the tips of his ears were red. Heimdall scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Go ahead." Miles sat up and rose an eyebrow. "What?" Heimdall waved Miles off as he undid his hair. "Go ahead. Braid my hair. It's all you've been thinking all day." Miles looked at Heimdall with a quizzical look. "I never said- ooohhh." Miles inched closer to Heimdall. "Are you sure you're okay with a pathetic god like me who's so below you braiding your perfect hair?" Miles had a joking teasing tone that just had a huff from Heimdall in response.
Miles got behind Heimdall and grabbed a comb from his nightstand and gently ran it through his locks. It definitely wasn't Miles’s first time braiding his hair, infact they had braided each other's hair about a millions times when they were young. Although it was probably a lot harder for Heimdall to braid Miles’s hair on account of it being so long, but still, it was nice. That was one of his most precious memories Miles had. It was a good day, it was warm and had a light breeze. It was spring and the trees were so bright and vibrant. Miles and Heimdall had always met on a huge fallen tree in the middle of the Midgardian forest. The tree was covered in moss and Heimdall's hair always seemed to get messed up on his way climbing the tree, so Miles would always braid it. Miles had a tiny suspicion that Heimdall would mess up his hair before climbing up and just blame it on climbing to get Miles to braid his hair. Almost half a thousand years later, Miles still doesn't know the truth.
"Sorry if it doesn't come out very nice I'm a bit rusty, it's been a while." Heimdall didn't say anything as Miles started the first braid. Miles wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or not but Heimdall was really leaning into Miles. Almost fully laying on him but sitting up just enough so it wouldn't make his hair look weird. "Hey Heimdall, can I ask you a question?" Heimdall hummed "When we were younger and we would meet on the tree, would you mess up your hair before climbing up so I could braid it."
Heimdall tensed up. "Why would I ever willingly mess up my hair just to get you to braid it? My hair always looked horrible after you braided it, I had to rebraid it everytime." Miles laughed. "You suck at lying." Heimdall just huffed as a response again.
A while passed and Miles was finally finished. "Okay, I'm done." No response. "Heimdall?" Miles looked down at him
he's asleep? When did he fall asleep? Sure he was quiet but he doesn't normally speak much when he's not gloating. He seemed to be sound asleep too. It had been so long since Miles saw his face so relaxed. Him and Miles used to lay down on the soft moss of the tree and just stare at the clouds. The few times Miles turned his head to look at Heimdall he always looked so peaceful in the blinding sun. His favorite times were when it got dark and cloud watching turned into star gazing. Even when Miles thought he couldn't get any prettier, the light from the moon made his face glow like bifrost. The moonlight highlighted all his best features, which was his whole face but still.
Miles watched with great interest at the mundane rise and fall of Heimdall's chest. His face was blank but it held so much emotion. He truly was the most alluring person he had ever seen. Maybe it's the nostalgia rush from pondering the past but Miles swore he felt 15 again. He felt as he did everytime he was just hanging around Midgard and Heimdall appeared to brighten his day. He felt as he did that one time when he opened the door to his little wooden cabin and saw a tiny box on his porch and once he opened it, it was an onyx stone bead bracelet with a silver square with the dagaz rune on it. He wasn't entirely sure what that feeling was but it was a weird one. It made him dizzy and euphoric, as if he was floating. It made him have a funny feeling in his chest and stomach. It was weird but not unwelcome.
"Your thoughts are so loud, do you know that?" Miles snapped out of his thinking and jumped a tiny bit. "Hmm- they are? Sorry." Miles played with Heimdall's braids a little. "I'm done braiding your hair, by the way." Heimdall got up and instead of leaving he took off his shoes and his shirt and plopped down in Miles’s bed. "What are you doing?" Miles said as he sat next to him. "Going to sleep." Miles laughed.
"Yeah I can see that, my question is why are you sleeping in *my* bed. You have your own bed." Heimdall didn't respond. Miles shrugged and laid down next to him and opted for staring at his back. Miles sheepishly reached his hand out to his back and started connecting his freckles. After a few minutes of lightly running his finger along Heimdall's back, he spoke. "What are you doing?" Miles continued to connect the freckles to one another. "Making constellations." Miles circled a few of his freckles. "These few look like Grus." He circled a few more. "And these here look sorta like Andromeda." He tapped a few more of them. "This one is Lacerta."
Heimdall just hummed. He had his back turned to Miles so it wasn't very clear if he was drifting to sleep or just didn't know what to say. Miles peeked over his shoulder to get a better look at his face. He was smiling, he tried to act as if he wasn't when Miles looked but he was. Miles turned back over on his back and yawned. After a few minutes he heard light snoring coming from Heimdall, it was cute. He tried to go to sleep but he couldn't, after longer than he'd like to admit of tossing and turning he just draped an arm over Heimdall's torso. He was a bit nervous because he wasn't quite sure how Heimdall would react, or if he'd even like it.
Heimdall grabbed Miles's arm and pulled him closer. That's how Heimdall always was though. He was never scared to speak his mind or anything he just believed in actions speaking louder than words. When they were younger, Heimdall always seemed to give Miles something as an apology rather than just saying sorry. Whether it was something as easy to find as some pretty flowers or something like a new knife made by Sindri, that was always his way of apologizing and showing he cared without having to say it.
It was going to take the two of them a while to get used to this, there was gonna be a lot to work out but it was worth it. Because in the end they had each other, and even since they were young that's all they ever needed.
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ilkkawhat · 4 years ago
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If you are still taking soulmate prompts could I ask heartbeats for MacDalton? Absolutely no pressure if you don’t get to it though :)
ANON I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG but here it is, on ao3. I hope you enjoy all 6,593 words of heartbreak (quite literally but don’t worry, has a happy ending!!)
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captainsimagines · 2 years ago
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pretty woman, this is me trying || eleven
Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader
Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers
Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls
(11/14)
Mini-Series
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Warnings: unprotected sex; overthinking idiots; past references to SA
Word Count: 2,680+
~
     Bucky had asked to come over and spend the night since tomorrow he would be overstimulated. It was a way to prepare himself, he said. Quiet before the chaos, a singular person to speak with before the nameless faces, the smell of a home before expensive alcohol.  
Although, knowing Tony, he’d definitely go all out and spice the place up with some notes of pine, cinnamon, and peppermint.
For now, Bucky was content to lay on your sofa and watch you play with Axel. The older dog jumped from one side to the other, barking in between pats on the head.
“Do you love me more than you love Bucky?”
“Hey, watch it.”
“Whisper it to me.”
Bucky sighed your name as he slid from the couch to the floor. “Don’t put ideas into his head.”
“We should think about getting him a friend!” To that, Axel sneezed and snorted.
“That was a weird sound,” Bucky pointed out, genuinely worried. It was a combination of breathing in and clearing the throat, and it sounded like it hurt.
“It’s probably allergies. Fall and winter do that to animals.”
“Dogs can get allergies?”
You hummed, smoothing the fur on Axel’s back. “Lainey’s dog used to get a yearly injection that helped with it. Or sometimes dogs breathe in things that block their nostrils. Something like that. He’ll pass it soon.”
Bucky grimaced, still unconvinced. “I’m going to overthink.”
You giggled, “I entirely expect you to. You’re a new dad, you have every right.”
Bucky blushed at that description. He had thought about having children in the 40s. Find a cute girl, either Jewish or Catholic to appease his parents, and pop out about four kids. Then the draft stole him from that opportunity and—
Bucky always wanted to be a dad. Nowadays, he’s not so sure.
He watched you brush through Axel’s hair, wondering if you planned on having children. If you could have children. If you never even thought about it.
If Bucky were going to have children still, he thinks having one with you would be nice.
“I’ll take him to the vet with you in the New Year. But trust me, it’s nothing to worry about.”
Bucky doesn’t know why he allowed negative thoughts to taint this moment. Why he was thinking about it at all, really. It wasn’t like you gave him any indication of doing him dirty after all this.
But that voice was impossible to ignore as it cruelly whispered, She won’t just be yours in the New Years.  
“You
 You still want to be my friend in January?”
“What? Was there a deadline to my friendship or—” Your realization sits like a block of wet cement in his stomach.  â€œ...Something.”
He avoided eye contact as he said, “Stark pays you after the Christmas Ball.”
“Yeah, but
 I don’t want to leave you.”
Fuck, your voice was so sincere as you said it, too. He didn’t doubt you wanted to remain his friend. But all your time was literally scheduled for him right now. What’s going to happen when your schedule clears and he’s simply back to being one of your clients?
Bucky was a client.
“You weren’t paid for more.”
You stopped petting Axel to look directly at him, angry. “I’m going to need you to stop reminding me of that, or trying to make me feel guilty for it.”
“It’s true. You wouldn’t have tried speaking to me if there weren't dollar signs attached,” he said, shrugging his heavy shoulders.
“Are you trying to get me to scream at you? Of course I wouldn’t have! You’re an Avenger, I’m a civilian. That’s like flirting with a celebrity and hoping they can get past the fact that I’m nothing.”
He grimaced, “Don’t call yourself nothing.”
“You’re treating me like a hooker,” you enunciated, voice low.
Bucky scoffed, standing to distance himself from you. From the conversation his dumbass had thrown himself in. “I’ve never once treated you like a hooker.”
It was silent for a few seconds. Bucky listened to the wisps from the candles, a sound you probably couldn’t even hear. He focused on the smell of the cookies you had just taken out of the oven. He focused on his own, damaged mind and how it dug a gigantic hole for him to jump in.
In the quietest voice he had ever heard from you, unnatural indeed, you breathed, “You just did.”
Something in his chest turned. Froze over and condemned him to Hell. He was back in that freezer, forced to watch the world spin on as he couldn’t lift a muscle.
Good, he thought. He deserved it.
You shook your head, as if physically shaking his words off you, and went to stand. “Look, if you didn’t want me
 Then why did you ask for me?”
He said nothing. A muscle jumped in his cheek but still, he said nothing.
Because he hadn’t asked for you. He had sat back and followed an order.
“Look at me,” you confronted him. “I’m accepting that money because it’s a part of the job. But I will be your friend afterward. I will clear my schedule just to share breakfast with you. To walk Axel with you. You are my friend.”
“I can give you money.”
You reared back as if you had been hit. “How is that different?”
“A one time exchange. It’s not attached to my time or my sanity.”
You stared at him for a long while, blinking in confusion. In shock maybe, Bucky wasn’t so sure. “You’re gonna give me one hundred thousand dollars?”
“I will give you the sun and all its solar flares if it means remaining your friend.”
Something raw danced in your eyes. As if his words hit a sensitive patch.
Had you ever been in love? Had any of your clients pulled such a reaction from you? Had someone from your past nearly convince you to stay with them in your hometown?
Bucky wanted to be the only one. The only one to occupy your time, to share a seat at your dinner table, to joke around with.
At this point, you had helped heal half his soul. He could do without the other half if it meant remaining in your thoughts.
“Don’t try to buy me,” you commanded, swiping a stray hair from your forehead.
“Do you see my problem now?”
Your shoulders slumped. You stared at him with obvious indecision. Then, softly and without much anger added, you said, “You weren’t supposed to like me so much.”
This wasn’t just a friendship anymore. Not just companionship. Bucky hadn’t felt this way ever, not even before the war. He was either worrying about tuberculosis, paying rent, or getting shot. Never had he felt like he was allowed to just worry about one thing. To just worry about someone falling in love with him or not.
“But I do,” he admitted, matching your shrug. He stepped closer, pausing in case you wanted to take a step back. You remained where you were, arms at your side and watching him move.
“I’m not used to it,” you whispered, your eyes turning softer as Bucky cupped your cheeks in his hands. He laid his forehead against yours, holding you steady.
“Me neither.”
He could hear your heartbeat. If he listened too closely, he could also hear the blood rushing through your veins.
When he was forced on his stomach and told to lie still, he had tuned out the world and focused on the systems working inside his body. Listening to his cold blood was one of them. In those hours of pure horror, his blood swished and churned at the speed of light. No barriers, no stops, no obstacles to burst through.
Your blood ran, but ran warm.
A tear slipped from his eye, moistening his upper lip.
“Bucky
” you breathed, reaching up to cup his hands with yours.
“Can I touch you?”
He shut down the cruel voice purring at him, replacing it instead with his own.
He is your friend. Not your client.
You have a choice in who you sleep with. He is not forcing you.
He has a choice in who touches him. And you respect that.
He is your friend. You are his.
And he wants you.
You nodded quickly, lifting your eyes up to his. “Yes.”
Verbal permission was all he needed.
It takes a lot less time to strip each other of your multiple layers. To lay each other down and decide through gentle touches and soft words how you both wanted this to play out. Every kiss, every lick, every grip from your hands had Bucky seeing stars. Those stars that shined just for a single person, never for the rest of the world. Those stars hidden behind the fame chasers, their light stronger than those that came before them.
He responded to each one of your moans, listened to the sentences you formed, followed your fingers as they trailed down his naked chest. It was the knowledge that you enjoyed this too, that you wanted to take pleasure in his pleasure, that helped him stifle the voices in his head. He’d be lying if he said those voices weren’t talking non-stop, adding hideous meanings to everything you did. Voices that tried to convince Bucky you were faking this, that he was hurting you instead of loving you.
But all he had to do was look at you, hear your tender voice speak kind words he thought his mind would never fathom. All that trust that had been cultivated between you two over the last three weeks thus supporting his weight and helping him support yours.
“Are you sure?” you whispered, completely bare beneath him. Your chest brushed against his, a rather holy feeling. He had already spent fifteen minutes studying the feeling of each breast with his tongue.
“I’m sure,” he responded, holding his hard cock in his flesh hand, angling it toward your warm heat. You looked wetter than last time, and felt wetter, too. He ran the tip across your slit, reveling in the small sounds it pulled from your throat, then slowly pressed inside.
His body responded unlike what he originally believed.
Territorial, but in your beautiful favor.
“Fuck,” you whimpered, adjusting your hips. Bucky pushed in a little deeper, savoring the squeeze. He monitored every emotion that passed on your face, everything that was uttered from your lips. He did not want to detach his pleasure from yours.
He at least knew that. Sex was enjoyable when all members were enjoying it.
“You feel so good,” Bucky admitted, dipping his face into the crook of your neck. Once he was fully seated inside, he lowered his chest those few inches more so you were attached completely. You grasped at his back, keeping your nails from puncturing his skin. Then Bucky began moving, began chasing what he had lost so many years ago, only to find it much more polished and refined than the last time he saw it.
When there was a certain angle he hit that made you shout repeatedly, he made sure to hit it again and again. At a slow pace, deep, working that coil in your stomach to its bare bones. The base of his own spine tightened and drove him forward, begging him to bury himself inside you for all hours of the day.
And if his body cooperated, he wouldn’t argue with that prospect.
“Another,” you breathed, the word a struggle to form. “Another position.”
Bucky carefully removed himself from you, waiting as you readjusted yourself at the foot of the bed. But his breath caught in his lungs as you bent over, facing away from him, presenting yourself in all your eagerness.
“No,” he said, turning away.
“The mirror, Bucky,” you reasoned, holding yourself up with flat palms. “The mirror is right there. You’ll be able to see my face the entire time.”
He swallowed, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
“You don’t even have to bend me over. Just hold me up, be behind me, try this with me.”
He hadn’t explicitly told you that this position wasn’t a good one for him. You probably pieced it together yourself. He didn’t want to think you were using this time to experiment, to hold up your end of the bargain. That would kill him.
But it was the light across your face, the innocence splattered there that showed Bucky you were just giving him the chance. The option. If he said no again, then you would plop right back down onto your back and enjoy it all the same.
Bucky doesn’t think he could ever be in that position himself again. It’s why he worked out alone, never danced to modern music, and why he piled pillows in front and behind him when he slept. It’s the one thing he won’t ever experiment with.
Having you in that position was ultimately a chance for Bucky to take something back. It wasn’t an invitation to do what was done to him, but to create an alternate image. A new image. Placing himself as the person behind, watching through the mirror as this position brought his partner pleasure.
He settled behind you, lifting you up. He slowly traced his hands down your body, over your breasts, over your stomach. The mirror offered him an amazing view. A thin layer of sweat covering both your bodies; your hair was disheveled, visible goosebumps erupted along your arms and thighs, and a delicious shine coated your inner thighs.
Bucky kicked your knees further apart, smiling when your voice jumped, and plunged back into you. Spreading a palm over your chest and a metal one across your lower stomach, he delighted in the new angle. Watching as your jaw slacked, how your throat bobbed with each difficult swallow, how your eyes closed then widened whenever he hit a particular spot. He watched it all through the mirror, how his cock went in and out of you. It was slightly visible—perhaps it would be obvious if he spread you even wider.
“Look at how I fuck you,” he groaned, holding your chin up as it threatened to fall. He met your gaze in the mirror, grinning as his words caused you to mewl wildly. “I want you to come around me. Can you do that?”
You nodded, your voice apparently still strangled. Your breathing quickened, and after a few deep thrusts, you complied. Coming around him with a shout, pushing your ass back to him in a plea to aid you until the end.
Bucky held you close to his chest, relishing in the complete warmth, and laid his sweaty cheek against yours. His hair fell from the hair tie, cascading in rich waves. He tried to plant kisses on your cheek, but it was hopeless. He came with a soft groan, cheek on cheek, his breath mingled with yours.
His trust in you glowing brilliant.
Afterward, he ran a bath and thanked the Heavens that your bathtub was big enough to fit yourself and a super soldier. You filled it with bubbles and lit a peppermint-scented candle. The two of you spent an hour cleaning up—or rather, thirty minutes cleaning and thirty minutes making Santa beards from the bubbles.
He would call that entirely productive.
~
    Your finger hovered over the button for ten minutes. Bucky peacefully slumbered on the left side of your bed, on his stomach and snoring softly. There were scars along his back, stretching down to his slender hips. His lower half was covered with the blanket, but you had seen the scars on his bottom and thighs, too.
Every inch of him was bruised and battered, deserving of kisses and gentle brushes.
You messaged your clients a short paragraph explaining why you were no longer able to take appointments or engage in sexual activity with them. The same paragraph, none mentioning finding someone else instead.
Then you finally clicked the button, and deleted your account.
~
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rosesbxrry · 3 years ago
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đ‚đ«đžđ©đźđŹđœđźđ„đž
đ”Œđ•Ÿđ•™đ•Ș𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕧𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝔾𝕌 đ•€đ•–đ•Łđ•šđ•–đ•€
SUMMARY: vampires are just creatures of fiction, but what happens when one is closer than you might think 
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Disclaimers 
Genre, warnings and summary will be labelled accordingly to each story as they differ from one another, so please read them before reading the story
Please take note that the stories contain a lot of cursing, swearing and supernatural themes
This is all works of fiction, nothing in the stories are real
University AU + All the idols portrayed are aged up in the stories
Suggestive themes/ Smut contained in Heeseung and Jay’s part: minors DNI
Taglist: open/send an ask to be added 
@mildlystupid @heejaies @hobistigma @wntrsgf @rosie-is-everywhere@ahnneyong @axolotlboo @axartia @yizhoutv​@skzenhalove @fromkamal
a/n: Why am I starting another project when I haven’t even finish my smau yet ;(( This has been sitting on my draft for a few months now and I can finally share this to all of you! It might take me a while to write all the individual installment so please bare with me. Anyways, I’m sorry if there is any grammar or spelling mistakes!
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Jungwon 
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As the vice-president of the newspaper club, you have a keen attraction to any hot issues circulating in town, So when there is sudden news about students encountering mysterious figures, you can’t help but investigate it. But to your dismayed, Yang Jungwon, the president and your partner in crime, forbids you from furthering your curiosity; as if he has something to hide himself.
Pairing: Jungwon X Fem! human Reader
Genre: Thriller, slight angst, slight horror 
Warnings: mention of blood, stalking, knife/stabbing, mc being a little stupid
Release date: 1st January 2022
Word count: 11,589 words
Read here 
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Heeseung 
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You really didn’t want to come to the party that Jay threw in his mansion. Not because you have not started studying for the upcoming calculus exam, but your ex-boyfriend would definitely be there since they are in the same circle of friends. Avoiding him throughout the party was  harder than you thought but you stood there, wide eyes, staring at Heeseung with blood on his mouth and hands.
Pairing: Heeseung X Fem! human Reader
Genre: Smut 🔞 (Minors DNI), slight angst, slight fluff, exes to lovers
Warnings: mention of blood, kidnapping, very heavy alcohol consumption, lots of profanity and cursing, smut warnings under the read more/read here
Release date: 28 January 2022
Word count: 13,708 words
Read here
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Jay 
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He was not alone anymore among living civilizations with a beating heart and warmth beneath their skin; he had his friends beside him now. Though he tried to accommodate and help them in their journey to an immortal life, it can never replace your everlasting presence. You had been there with him since war and bygone, when he was still in his younger vampire age. It’s true what they say, love is hard to keep and to forget. 
Coming soon
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Jake 
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rewriting the summary 
Coming soon
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Sunghoon 
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They call him the ice prince, but to you, he was just the dorky best friend you had a crush on for years. Ice skating was definitely not your forte so when he invites you for a night out to skate at a lake nearby, you were hesitant to accept. Things were fine until an accident happened and you found yourself gasping for air in ice cold water and then being bitten by Sunghoon, whom you had no idea was a freaking vampire.
Pairing: Sunghoon X Fem! human to vampire Reader
Genre: fluff, a dash of angst, mutual pining, best friends to lovers trope
Warnings: mention of blood, food/ eating, death (the mc dies but not really)
Word count: 10,903 words
Read here
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Sunoo 
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With blood oozing out every second from his wound, Sunoo could feel the cold and dense snow pile underneath his body. The white pure color now painted with crimson red; he slowly feels the upcoming dizziness from losing too much blood. He thought this would be the end, he was too weak to get help from the others but when he woke up; you were the first person he saw and you didn’t seem to be fazed about his red eyes and fangs.
Coming soon
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Ni-ki
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Getting attack by Nishimura Riki was the last thing on your mind, especially when he’s looking at you hungrily with red piercing eyes and protruding fangs. Now, you are in charge of keeping the greatest secret he and his group of vampire friends could ever have. You thought keeping your mouth shut is enough but the shared secret only brings the both of you closer. And more danger in your life as well.  
Coming soon
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mercy-burning · 4 years ago
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Losing You Twice / Prologue: Silence
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: On New Year’s Day, Y/N attempts a new chapter of her life but finds it may be harder than she thought... Category: Angst Content Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, implied masturbation (female) Word Count: 1,343
SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST
NOTE: AHHHH the prologue is finally out!! I’m so excited to start sharing this story with you guys, I adore this album with my whole heart and I just knew I had to use it as inspiration for a fic. I hope you all enjoy reading it!!
***
“I know that I should let go, should be letting you go. Can’t postpone it, not anymore, when I know what I already know: What I need is silence. All I need is time and space and silence. Cut communication â€˜cause I’m trying to learn that I can lose you and survive it.” —FLETCHER, Silence
JANUARY 1st
Even though the snow outside was falling rather heavily, Y/N left the window open, a bitter chill drafting through her bedroom and settling into every nook and cranny, which included the closet where she was currently sitting on the floor, a glass of wine in hand and pictures laid neatly across the wood.
As her eyes grazed over every scrap of paper, mostly polaroid photos and little hand-written notes he'd left her over the years, the constant ticking of the clock back in her bedroom wouldn't stop.
Realistically it was probably the wine, enhancing her ability to focus on nothing else except the most menial, annoying little things. But she was thoroughly (and maybe a little drunkenly) convinced it was actually Time itself, taunting her— every constant click of the clock screaming at her as if to say, "You! Fucked! Up! He! Hates! You! Now! You're! Pathetic!"
The happy memories scattered about in front of her certainly didn't help. His face kept staring back at her, each lovesick gaze spewing even harsher words than the clock. Just by seeing his face glinting back at her under the harsh white light of the closet, all she could hear in her head above the noise was that one single sentence that's haunted her since Christmas.
"You don't actually give a shit about me, Y/N, you only ever care about yourself, and it's been that way ever since I met you!"
No matter how greatly she professed to him that that wasn't true, he walked out on her all the same, not giving her a chance to explain further. Though, he always took the time to listen to her, so his words coupled with the slamming of the door landed her with the impression that maybe she'd only said it in her head.
After all, she was half drunk on tequila at the time, the other half of her mind swimming with sadness and regret.
Maybe she hadn't fought for him to stay like she thought... Or maybe at this point he was simply done trying to make it work, done with hearing her half-assed promises to get better at communicating, and done with her...
It bothered her immensely that she didn't know.
And when he wouldn't even pick up the phone to answer when she wanted to ask, when she texted him and each one went promptly ignored, she felt like the answer was finally clear.
Now it was New Year's Day, just about ten minutes past midnight after Y/N opened the window, poured herself a glass of wine, and started sorting through everything in the closet. She'd went in with the intention of starting anew, like practically everyone did during the New Year. Though the longer she sat there, sipping the wine and staring back at pictures and notes that only reminded her of the one good thing she'd ever known and inadvertently thrown away, the experience was less cleansing and more daunting.
Everything was loud.
The click of the clock, and the howling of the wind outside as it blew snowflakes around in a near-blizzard, and the constant screaming of every word she wished she'd said before he left...
It was all too much.
So Y/N downed the rest of her wine, threw all the pictures and notes back in their box, and shoved it deep in the back where the memories couldn't hurt her anymore, at least in theory.
But as she crawled into bed, the clock now sitting in the kitchen with no batteries, she was reminded that there was one form of memory that she couldn't shove in a closet and hide away.
She drifted off, the sharp chill from the winter wind still lingering on her skin even after the window had been shut and she'd bundled herself up under the covers.
Even in dreams, it transported her to the night before Christmas, when she walked with him across town, looking at all the lights and finding themselves underneath a large tree. He took her gloved hand and placed it firmly on his chest as she looked up at him, snowflakes sticking to her eyelashes. She admired how pretty he was surrounded by white snow and colorful lights, his cheeks and nose painted a soft pink from the cold.
"I love you, Y/N," he said with every intention of hearing her say it back.
But for some reason, she didn't. Instead, she leaned up and kissed him, hard, nearly knocking him to the ground. And even though she was happy and warm, it was the first time she thought she'd ever felt him not kiss her back with the same fervor.
That should have been her first clue that things were going to decline, but she was so caught up in the feel of his lips against hers, no matter how distant they were, that she couldn't really bring herself to care. After all, it was Christmas Eve, and nothing bad could ever happen to their relationship during the happiest time of the year...
But this was a dream, and now Y/N knew better. She stood there, watching the scene unfold in front of her, screaming for herself to say it back, to yell, "I love you too, Spencer!"
But again, this was a dream— No matter how loudly Y/N yelled at her former self, nothing would change what happened in the past.
She woke up the next morning, cold and alone, and surrounded in silence. Not even the soft clicking of the clock was there to keep her company.
But that's what she wanted in the first place, and if she was ever going to get through this—to move on with her life without him at her side—then she was going to have to get used to it.
And so her phone sat nicely on her bedside table as she grabbed a random selection of clothes and headed to the shower. Maybe the water would wash away some more of the major remnants of his being from her body. Maybe she finally wouldn't be able to feel the ghost of his hands roaming her skin and tangling in her hair...
It worked for almost the whole day, and then she laid back in bed that night, her hand dipped beneath her underwear and eyes closed tightly. She hadn't meant for him to creep into her mind, but it made sense that it would have happened eventually— When your relationship with someone was built almost solely on sex, it seemed inevitable.
No one else had made her feel the way he did... He took such care and precision with her body, drew out every possible second of pleasure until she was out of her mind, and in turn she showered him with praise and loud shouts of his name. Spencer... Spencer!
"Spencer!"
She opened her eyes, hand retreating from her body as quickly as possible as she tried to blink away his image. Her breathing steadied, though a long, exhausted sigh fell from her lips almost as easily as his name.
It obviously wasn't going to be easy, but damn it if she didn't want to give up already and find him the way she always did after a fight.
This wasn't just a fight, though. And as she laid in bed, her thumb hovering over his name in her phone, something stirred in her chest that signaled a bad idea. Not that bad ideas ever stopped her before... But now?
It didn't feel right.
Nothing about any of this felt right. And she didn't know what to do about it other than shutting the phone off and tossing it to the side, snapping her eyes shut and huffing like a child while she tried not to cry.
Plain and simple, heartbreak was brutal. Especially when you were the one to blame.
And that sentiment was the sharp twist of the knife in Y/N's gut, plaguing her as she willed herself to fall asleep.
“It’s like a crutch, see if you’re up. 4am but I like a rush, so I’ll go into your bed, my safety net. Cheaper than a therapy vent, yeah, I know...”
***
PERMANENT TAGLIST:  @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @big-galaxy-chaos @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc
TAGS NOT WORKING: @thatsonezesty13 @ayla-1605
SERIES TAGLIST: @reidyoulikeabook @yourmisosoup​ @fortheloveofcriminalminds @bellzo17 @altsvu @flipperpenguins @mcumorningstar
TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch
I’m tagging my permanent taglist in this prologue only, so if you want to be notified when I post more from this series, send me a message or leave me a comment, and I’ll add you! Thank you :)
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hummingbird-games · 3 years ago
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Dev Blog # 18
Happy December good folks! Trying to learn (this time) from my past mistakes and slow the HECK down because last month was...a month. Plans this month were 1) an updated demo 2) chaos trailer and 3) finished base game so I can pinpoint release date. 
In honor of respecting my limits...you will get at most 2 out of 3 from me. 
What have been up to since I’ve been gone? Not much. Is this me advocating for mental health while blatantly ignoring my own???
I got some more editing done. I’m on Lydia’s path for line/transition edits and I’m glad to know that I still love this game with every fiber of my being. I’m just struggling a bit now
but ain’t we all??? 😂 for context, I’m 3/6 paths done with this particular editing pass. I’m also debating another round of beta testing đŸ€« but for bugs and feedback. But in early 2022 because I cannot cram anything else in this year. 
I received all of my sprites! There’s a [redacted] scene that calls for [redacted] so we’ll revisit this in early 2022 with my sprite artist when I’ve saved up game funds and can reveal super cool awesome amazing stuff
As of drafting this dev-log...the updated demo is done. Like, just-slap-that-bad-boy-up-on-itch.io done. So. I will set some time aside this weekend to reacquaint myself with Butler LOL. (Tumblr heard it first, but look out for a release on this coming Sunday or Monday)
Chaotic trailer is....almost done. My perfectionism is getting in my way (and so is the self induced stress that is myself). But if it doesn’t get done until January, then that’s fine. I will live. Mostly. 
Some small milestones:
Happy one year to working on this game/ starting Hummingbird Games officially
Happy almost end to 2021 đŸ€Ł
HAPPY 500+ DOWNLOADS ON ITCH.IO!
Some random news:
Remember the gaming laptop saga guys? Guess what there’s been an update and it involves Black Friday and getting a MUCH better deal on a more powerful device 😂 I decided to dedicate it only to games so I’ll continue to code on my current device.
GAMES/DEMOS I’VE BEEN PLAYING
Raptor Boyfriend: A High School Romance - I want to INHALE THIS GAME but alas life keeps getting in the way. I’m still on my first run (this is on me for WAITING SO LONG TO BUY IT), and ALL 3 love interests are divine, MC is super fun and awkward and funny, and this feels so much like an animated 90s show that I just wanna cry happy tears. Also it’s the high school genre??? We love to see it. 
Ise & Kai: Chosen Throne - Just wanna praise the @rieindiegames​  team because the lore and worldbuilding they’ve created is absolutely amazing. I finally got to sit down and play through the demo and it was nothing like I expected in the best way possible. (TBH it felt more like the full game than a â€œdemo” and I’m still picking my jaw off the ground aha.)
Nevergrove - Don’t remember how I found this one but it’s a point and click visual novel and it’s SUPER fun!! There’s a mystery surrounding a missing (dead??) girl and while you’re in your aunt’s town there’s people to befriend and date 👀
Belle Automata - There’s 26ish hours left to support this Kickstarter so if you haven’t had a chance, please check out the demo and then support however you can! Ratings and reviews are pretty darn cool too. 
Sims 4 - There’s that new scenarios update thingy and right now I'm trying the holidays one where it’s a 2 person household/enemies to lovers, and not gonna lie, it’s super hard. I want my sims â€œto kith” but they’re too busy shouting forbidden words at each other and refusing to sleep in the same bed (because maybe I purposefully have one bed, so what.)
...
Okie doke guys, as always thank you for reading/skimming! For reaching the bottom of this devlog, you’ve won a special prize!! Florence screen incoming!!
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- Gemini 💛
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everything-person · 4 years ago
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CS January Joy Day 7: The Rescue
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A/N: So this fic idea spawned from a Wander Over Yonder short called The Hero. Its really funny highly suggest you watch it. This has been an idea of mine for a while and has been in the draft graveyard for maybe 3 years. Point is its been a long time idea and I’m super excited about finally being able to post it especially for an amazing event such as @csjanuaryjoy​. Special thanks to @profdanglaisstuff​ who hoped on as my beta last minute. 
Summary: Princess Emma has gone missing and with the kings promise of a special reward for the one to bring her home safely her friends plan to be the ones to do just that.
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Once upon a time the princess turned bandit met the shepherd turned prince. They fell in love and together they defeated the Evil Queen. They became the rulers of a grand land best known as The Enchanted Forest. Under the rule of Queen Snow White and King James the Enchanted Forest came a time of peace and prosperity. 
One fortunate day Queen Snow White and King James announced the birth of a beautiful baby girl, a new princess for the kingdom, and she was given the name Emma. The princess was the product of True Love and would wield the most powerful light magic in all the realms. She would be known as the Savior. The kingdom rejoiced, days of celebration were held in honor of the princess. Nobility and Royalty from all over came to pay their respects and welcome the new princess.
Though the princess’s birth was a happy and welcome one, a great danger lay hidden. For with great light there must be great darkness. A prophecy told of a day when the Savior would be stolen away by darkness. Only to be rescued by one true hero, with the help of his sidekick-
“Whoa,” Pinocchio interrupted, “which one of us is the sidekick?”
Baelfire froze, looking at his friend. Even in the dim light of the tavern he could make out Pinocchio’s confused and slightly agitated glare.“Well I don't mean to be rude, my friend, but you're the sidekick.”
“Oh,” Pinocchio leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “And how do we know you're not the sidekick?” 
“It says that the hero is Emma's True Love.” Baelfire stated, gesturing to the book open in front of him. 
“That proves nothing.”
Baelfire let out a frustrated sigh, slamming the book closed. “Okay well I guess whoever saves her is the hero and her true love.”
Pinocchio’s eyebrows furrowed, “Allow me understand you. Are you suggesting when we go retrieve Her Royal Highness, Rightful Heir to Misthaven’s Throne, The Savior, most powerful light magic wielder in this and any known realm, that whoever gets to her first will be the one she marries? Am I understanding you correctly?”
Baelfire shrugged his shoulders. “Do you have a better idea?” 
Pinocchio stared at the man across from him. The buzz of the tavern surrounded them. 
The two men had grown up with Princess Emma. For a time she wasn’t Her Royal Highness Princess Emma, she was just Emma, their friend. They were all playmates but as they grew Baelfire and Pinocchio saw her as Princess Emma and perhaps a bit more. They both wished to court her but before they had a chance to make a request she was stolen away from her 21st birthday ball. She's been missing for months and in their Majesties’ desperation they decreed that ‘the one who saves Princess Emma and brings her home will be the one to take her hand in marriage.’ Many have already tried but no one has even caught a glimpse of the princess. After hearing the news, Baelfire and Pinocchio decided they would save the princess and they would have a better chance of that together. Baelfire was in charge of finding out information on where the princess might be, hence the tavern they’ve been sitting in for nearly two hours. Pinocchio was in charge of transportation both getting to where the princess was and their escape route.
“I'm taking your silence as a no. So whoever gets to Emma first is the one who marries her, agreed?” Baelfire stuck his hand across the table.
Pinocchio stared at the offensive hand for a moment. Baelfire was right, he didn't have a better idea and Emma's father did say whoever saved Emma had her hand. So technically whichever one of them got to her first is the one to save her. Pinocchio grabbed his friend's hand and gave it a firm shake, “Agreed.”
“Good, because I think our man just showed up.” Baelfire nodded towards the man entering the tavern as he stuffed the book holding the prophecy in his satchel.
The tricorn hat on his head, long hair draped over the shoulders of his long coat hiding the sword and pistol at his hip all gave him away. 
Pirate.
Pinocchio made to stand but a kick to the leg made him fall back in his chair. “Ow,” he exaggerated, glaring at his friend.
“What are you doing?” Baelfire questioned him.
“I'm going -”
Baelfire interrupted, “That's not how you deal with pirates. You make them” he holds up a purse of coins, “come to you.” He finalized his statement by slamming down the coins on the table.
Though Pinocchio doubted him at first once the pirate saw the gold he knew they had him. The man sauntered over to them. “That’s quite a bit of coin you have there mate.” He stood over their table with his thumb in his belt. He wore a smirk that was anything but friendly.
“More than a bit and I was hoping to win some more.” Baelfire leaned back in his seat meeting the man's gaze.
The man's smirk turned into a smile, “Well you're in luck, we were just about to set up a game. Perhaps you'd like to join us.”
=====================================
His father beckoned him over. “Pinocchio come meet the new princess.” 
The little boy cautiously walked to where his father was standing next to the King and Queen. They smiled kindly at the boy as he approached. Once he was at the side of the crib he stood on the tips of his toes in order to see. 
There laying in the crib was a small baby. She was wrapped in a white knitted blanket lined with a purple ribbon and in the corner read a name. “Pinocchio this is Emma.” the queen introduced him with a quiet voice.
“Hello Emma.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked back at him with big soft eyes, her mouth forming a little ‘o’ shape. He couldn’t help but reach into the crib and pet her head lightly . “She is so soft and so small.” 
The adults chuckled at his observation. “Yes she is.”
“Pinocchio,” His father's voice caught his attention. He turned to see his father had knelt down. “Princess Emma is going to need a friend. Someone to help her and teach her things. Someone she can rely on. Can you do that? Can you be Princess Emma's friend?”
Pinocchio smiled and nodded. “Yes father. I will try to be the best friend I can to Princess Emma.”
“Good boy.” His father said and gave him a pat on his head.
A small whine came from the crib. Emma was rubbing her face letting out more noise. Pinocchio looked over the side. “Oh no Emma don’t cry. Look.” He pulled on his ears, sticking his tongue out and made silly noises until the princess calmed down. “See it’s okay.”
“Thank you Pinocchio. You are sure to be a very good friend for the princess.” the king assured him.
====================================
Baelfire had the pirates in the palm of his hand. With each hand he would buy another round for the table. He had now gotten the table thoroughly drunk, with all the men laughing jovially and ready to spill their guts at the right question. This is why he's sure he is the hero the prophecy spoke of, only the hero would be clever enough to persuade pirates into giving him the information he required.
“So Captain I hear you’re quite the fearsome pirate,” Baelfire started.
“Aye the most fearsome on the seas. No one dares cross Blackbeard's sword.”
“Having that kind of reputation I’m sure you pass through many ports and hear many different tales.”
“Aye I keep my ear to the ground for the best treasure to pillage and plunder. Are you in the market for some jewels or magical trinket?”
“None actually. I was hoping to hear what the best gossip pirates have to offer. Who’s picked up what?”
“Sorry to disappoint mate but I can’t think of anything worth telling.” 
A drunken crew member piped up at this, “Capt’n what about that blonde woman? She was certainly interesting to look at.”
Baelfire's eyes darted from the crew member to his captain. Hoping he was right, he asked “What blonde woman?”
(A couple hours later)
“I know where Emma is!” Baelfire burst through the door of Pinocchio's workshop. Pinocchio jumped at the noise, dropping his tools. His glare at his intruder morphed into a curious gaze.
“Well where is she?”
Baelfire strode up to the workshop table pulling out a map. “The pirates said they came across a ship that held a beautiful blonde woman aboard.”
Pinocchio’s face pinched together as he stared at the man before him, “You do realize Emma isn't the only blonde woman in all the realms.”
“They said she wields a sword like a warrior, has the tongue of a sailor, fought like a man, backed down to no one all while looking as if she'd come down from heaven.” Baelfire cocked his head to the side, “You know as well as I do how fiery Emma can be.”
The former puppet nodded, “Alright where did he say she was?”
“Here.” Baelfire pointed to the map.
“So how are you getting us there?” Baelfire asked as Pinnochio looked to where they were going, plotting the fastest path they must take. Pinnochio smirked at the question, “Well what's a hero without a noble steed?”
===================================
Baelfire’s feet pounded against the earth beneath him as he weaved through the trees. His rage and frustrations fueling him forward. It'd been two days since Pan tricked him and sent him back to the realm he detested. Back to the father that chose power over him. 
He found his papa stood by his word and got a castle for him. The castle was filled with all kinds of magical items but that wasn't all. There was a woman there as well. His papa found a new love. He was making a new family. 
Baelfire rubbed at his eyes, fighting the tears that desperately wanted to fall. He didn't care about his papa or this new family he wanted to make. All he wanted was out of the realm and away from all things magical. 
The further he ran the more his vision blurred. He began bumping into trees, swatting away branches that crossed his path. The more obstacles in his path the more determined he was to run faster. A root caught his foot, causing him to tumble forward, landing face first into the dirt below. He rubbed his head as he took in his new surroundings. He was in a small clearing filled with tall grass and flowers swaying in the breeze. He pushed up onto his hands and knees, feeling the pressure mounting inside him. He felt as if he was going to burst. He clutched at the dirt beneath him, squeezing his eyes shut. Just as he was about to let it all out he heard something. 
Something that made him freeze. 
He heard laughter.
He lifted up his head to see a girl running into the clearing, looking behind her. Since she was looking behind and not where she was going she tripped, tumbling forward and landing face first a few feet away from him. She pushed up into the same position he was in, shaking her head before lifting it and noticing him for the first time. They looked at each other for a moment, neither sure what to say or make of the other. 
The girl cocked her head to the side before asking, “What are you doing?”
Baelfire scrunched up his face and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Playing,” she answered simply.
Baelfire scoffed, “Little girls shouldn’t be playing in the forest.”
Before he knew it Baelfire was being knocked back in the dirt. He looked up to see the girl now standing over him.
“I’m not a little girl. I can take care of myself.” 
Baelfire looked up at this strange girl standing there with her arms crossed. “Who are you?”
She dropped her arms, looking him over before offering her hand to him, “I’m Emma.”
==============================
Baelfire thought fondly of when he met Emma in that clearing all those years ago. They continued to meet in that clearing a few more times, both curious about the other. She would allow him to air his grievances about his father, about magic, about all that's happened to him. He told her about his plan to leave this realm and he asked if she would want to join him. That was when he found out who she was and what she was. Her Royal Highness Emma, Crown Princess of Misthaven. When he found out who she was he was afraid that her parents wouldn’t let him see her anymore because of who his father was. So he made a deal with his father to make a deal with the King and Queen. 
Baelfire promised to forgive his father if his father went to the King and Queen with a deal. Rumplestiltskin promised to never harm anyone in their kingdom if his son could continue to be friends with the princess. But she wasn’t just a princess. She was also the Savior, product of True Love, wielder of the most powerful light magic. Though she had light magic he asked that she didn’t use it in front of him. He saw what magic did to his father and the magic of Neverland. No matter what kind of magic it was Baelfire didn’t trust it. 
“Hey! You awake back there?” Pinocchio called out to him from his seat at the front of the wagon. 
Blackbeard said the ship that held the blonde woman was heading south. Baelfire suspected that they would need to make port within the next couple days before they headed back onto open water, so they are heading to a port town known to harbor pirates. With any luck they’ll find the ship Emma is on.
“No one could fall asleep with the way you're steering,” Baelfire grumbled. “This uncomfortable wagon wasn't what I had in mind when you said ‘noble steed.’”
“Well what do you expect the sidekick to ride in? Besides, a wagon any bigger would slow us down. You might want to try getting some rest while you can. By the map you gave me, we will be there by sundown.”
“The hero doesn’t need rest and is always prepared to leap into action.”
Pinocchio was right. They arrived in the small seaside village by the time the sun had fallen past the horizon. They were able to find a place to rest their horse and hide their wagon until they can determine whether or not Emma is here. 
“So You head to the tavern and I’ll head to the docks-”
“No,” Baelfire cut off his friend.
“What? That was our plan. You go see if you can get any information from the tavern. While I go see if I can spot Emma on any of the ships in the dock.”
“There's no need for that plan anymore.”
Pinocchio pinched the bridge of his nose, getting annoyed with Baelfire’s know it all attitude. “And why the hell not?”
Baelfire rolled his eyes, grabbing his companion’s arm, turning him around. He stretched his arm out, pointing towards a porky little man wearing a red cap, “That is why.” Baelfire dropped his arm, “We’ll follow him.”
Pinocchio looked between the man they are now apparently following and his accomplice in this quest. “Okay I give up, who is he?”
“He is the first mate of the pirate that will lead us to Emma.”
“How could you possibly know that?” asked Pinocchio, exasperated.
“Look just trust me. If they don’t have Emma, they will know where she is.”
Pinocchio eyed Baelfire, not really believing him until he saw the look in his eye. It was a look of conviction. Baelfire fully believed that this man would lead them to Emma.
Pinocchio slowly began to nod. “Okay let's go.” 
The pair followed this man as he, along with three others, went from shop to shop. When the group of men seemed to be finished they carried three barrels, four sacks, and two crates between the four of them. The men walked down towards the docks.
“Where's their ship? I don’t see it,” Pinocchio inquired, looking up and down the pier. 
Baelfire watched as the men they were following walked down to a row boat. He then cast his eyes on the water. “The pier was too small for them to dock.”
Pinocchio followed Baelfire's gaze and saw the men in a row boat rowing towards a ship in the distance. Baelfire, frustrated, began to rub the back of his neck, trying to come up with a new plan. “Okay good news this allows us to sneak onto the ship easier. Charging up the gangplank wasn’t the best idea in hindsight. Bad news is you need to build a boat right now.”
“Just because I was wood once doesn’t make me a miracle worker.” Pinocchio looked up and down the docks until he saw something that could help them. “Look there.”
Pinocchio pointed to a small sailboat haphazardly tied to a post. They waited until the row boat was halfway to the vessel when they made their move. Baelfire threw the rope off its post, while Pinocchio pushed the boat in the water. They both jumped in before it got too far from the dock.
They laid low so as not to be seen. Pinocchio was able to steer which way their boat drifted with the rudder.
“Oi Smee look,” a crew man called out when they made it back to the ship, pointing back towards the docks. “Some poor bloke lost ‘is sail.”
The man laughed as they raised their boat, unaware of the floating vessel's intent. Because they were unable to use the available oars, over fear of being spotted, they simply drifted hoping the rudder would be enough to lead them close enough to climb aboard. After a while of just drifting Baelfire began lightly drumming his fingers against the wood beneath them. 
“Stop that.”
“Can’t you make this thing go faster?” Baelfire growled at his companion.
“Unless you think I can control the waves and wind we are at the mercy of both,” Pinocchio huffed.
“We wouldn’t be if we were able to row-”
“That’s a great idea if part of your plan is to get caught. With an idea like that you must be the hero from the prophecy,” Pinocchio drawled, his voice dripping in sarcasm.
“Listen. The possibility of being caught is better than aimlessly drifting.”
“You just have to be patient.”
“Translation: I’m a sidekick and wait for stuff to happen.” 
Pinocchio punched Baelfire's leg, tired of his arrogant attitude. Baelfire glared at him, thrusting his leg forward, kicking Pinocchio in the shoulder. Pinocchio grunted then grabbed hold of Baelfire's foot, twisting it in an unnatural way. Baelfire gasped, yanking his foot out of the other man's grip. Before Baelfire could retaliate they both were jostled as the boat bumped into something. They looked up to see that while they were busy arguing they had drifted right next to the ship. They both looked at each other before Pinocchio dropped anchor and they prepared to board the ship.
“Alright let's go.”
Pinocchio grabbed Baelfire's arm, pulling him back down in his seat. “Wait,” he aggressively whispered.
“What?”
“Do you hear that?”
Underneath the sound of the wind and the waves crashing against the hull of the ship, was the sound of cheers. They could just make out the sounds of cups clashing, laughter, and music floating down from the deck above. 
Baelfire's brows furrowed, “Why are they celebrating?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is they are drinking. We both know how pirates like their drink.”
“So?” Baelfire said through gritted teeth, wanting him to get to the point.
 â€œSo we wait until they are too drunk to stand then board the ship, grab Emma, then row back to shore. By the time they gather themselves we will be headed for home.”
Baelfire turned his head back up, contemplating this new plan. “If we go now with half, if not all the crew on deck, we risk a better chance of being captured if not killed. Then who will save Emma?”
Baelfire closed his eyes and balled his fist, “Fine. We wait.” 
So they waited and waited. Though their plan was smart they did not count on the waves rocking their small boat, effectively putting them to sleep. The sun cresting over the horizon woke Baelfire. Once he was fully awake it dawned on him what had happened. He bolted upright, jostling the boat as he did. He turned to his side to see Pinocchio sprawled out asleep, and he gave him a quick kick to rouse him. 
“Wake up, we fell asleep.”
Pinocchio's head rolled as a groan escaped his mouth. Baelfire sighed before bending down, running his hand across the water's surface and flicking his wrist, causing the water to hit Pinocchio in the face. Pinocchio sputtered, now wide awake. He turned to shout at his attacker but his anger quickly vanished when he saw the sun. Both men jumped to action. Pinocchio attached his short sword to his hip as Baelfire threw his cutlass onto his back.
“They say you can truly measure a man by his sword,” Baelfire commented, eyeing his companion’s choice of weapon.
“The size of the sword doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to use it.”
As they prepared to board, Pinocchio turned to his friend, “Hey.”
Baelfire turned to see a sincere and serious look in his eye. 
“No matter what happens up there, Emma's safety and happiness comes first.”
Baelfire nodded, reaching out his hand. Pinocchio accepted it, giving it a firm shake.
“May the best man win,” Baelfire said as they both turned to the next part of their journey. They prepared themselves for a moment before grabbing hold and ascending the ship.
==========================================
“Come on. Let’s go,” Emma encouraged her friends as she entered the tavern.
“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Pinocchio warned warily.
“Yeah Ems we can get better drinks and food back at the castle.”
Emma turned facing her supposed friends, fixing them with a look. “You both promised me a drink so I suggest you stop your squawking and accept that we are here.”
Baelfire huffed as Pinocchio gestured for Emma to lead the way. The three of them settled on a table in the corner near the exit at Pinocchio's insistence. A bar maid came over and distributed three mugs of grog. Baelfire paid the wench and the three friends cheered their glasses together. Baelfire begrudgingly took a sip of his drink, grimacing as he swallowed the foul beverage. Pinocchio put his drink back on the table, wanting to have a clear mind in case any problems arose. Emma finished her drink in record time.
“Okay you've had your drink, can we leave now?”
“Come on Pinocchio lighten up.” Emma nudged his shoulder with her own, “This is supposed to be fun.”
“And what is so fun about spending a night in a dirty tavern, drinking gross grog, and being surrounded by drunkards?”
Emma glared at Baelfire. “It’s freeing. No one knows who we are, no guards, no one telling you what to do, being able to see how people really live.”
“Yes because who wouldn’t want to be a part of the adultery, lying, and thievery part of everyday people's lives.”
“Look, if you're going to act like this all night you can just leave.” 
There was an awkward pause as the two friends stared each other down. Without breaking eye contact, Baelfire rose out of his chair, turned and left the tavern without another word. Emma huffed, leaning her elbows on the table, looking into her glass. This wasn’t her first time sneaking out of the castle but it was the first time she asked her friends to join her. She was excited to spend the night with them without having to be the proper princess everyone expected her to be. But it seemed her friends didn’t understand that.
“Come on Emma. Let's go, I'll walk you back to the castle.”
“Pinocchio if you're so eager to leave why don't you just go too.”
“Emma-”
Emma slammed her hands on the table, fixing him with a look, “Look if you don’t want to have a drink then just go.” 
A burst of laughter turned her attention to the back of the bar. Emma smiled, “If you guys don’t want to have fun then I’ll go find my own.”
Emma pushed off the table, walking toward the table that caught her attention just moments before. Coming up to the group she placed her hands on their table, leaning forward addressing the man that seemed to be the center of attention. “So what are you boys playing?”
=========================================
The sound of swords clashing filled the air. The night's rest was all the pirates needed to sober up enough to fight the invaders. Pinocchio and Baelfire weren’t making it easy on them. 
“What the bloody hell is going on up here?!”
The outburst distracted Pinocchio and Baelfire just enough for the crew to disarm them of their weapons. They grabbed the men, forcing their arms behind their backs and them onto their knees. 
A man dressed in only leather pants descended the stairs onto the main deck. He wore chains around his neck, at the end of one arm was a brace holding a hook in place of a hand, and at the end of the other he clutched a sword in his grip, prepared for battle.
“Well?” The man paused, looking around waiting for someone to speak up, “Your Captain asked you a question, I expect an answer.”
“Cap’n these two snuck on board at day break.”
The captain looked over these two men, “Let me guess, more heroes come to take on the great Captain Hook.”
“There is nothing great about you. You filthy pirate,” Baelfire spat.
“You know I’ve grown rather tired of boys still wet behind their ears thinking they can come aboard my ship,” The captain spoke louder. “Why don’t we make an example out of these two? To remind everyone why they don’t cross Captain Hook and the crew of the Jolly Roger.”
The crew cheered as Baelfire and Pinocchio began to struggle out of their ropes, but two crew men firmly held them down.
“Now,” Hook raised his sword towards the men on their knees. “What shall we do with you?”
The crew erupted with suggestions but just as soon as the shouting started it stopped.
“What is with all the yelling this morning?” 
Everyone's attention turned to the stairs, where stood the woman they were looking for. She made her way down the stairs dressed only in a black shirt that came down mid thigh on her, her blonde tresses falling in gentle waves over her shoulders. Her face scrunched up, as if she were in pain, her hand rubbing circles onto her head. 
“Emma.” Hook dropped his sword, running over to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. He made it just in time as she tripped on the last step, falling into his arms. Hook opened his mouth to speak again but Emma held her hand to stop him.
“Caspian,” Emma pointed to the crewman, “what was that devil juice you gave me last night?”
“Tequila ma’am.”
Emma waved her hand, “Never. Never again is that allowed aboard this ship.”
“Love, what are you doing up?”
Emma snaked her hand that was resting on his bicep around his neck while the other began playing with the chain hanging from his neck. “Well, I got cold and had the unpleasant experience of waking up alone.” She paused, looking up at the captain through her lashes, “Then I got a splitting headache from all the shouting so I decided to find out what pulled my captain from my bed.”
“It wasn’t by choice, love. But it seems we have some unexpected visitors.” Hook nodded his head toward the middle of the deck.
Emma finally turned her head to see her two childhood friends being held on their knees, bound and gagged. “What the hell,” she whispered to herself. 
Disentangling herself from Hook she moved to stand in front of the two men. She waved her hand, removing their gags. “What are you guys doing here?” Emma crossed her arms waiting for an answer.
“We came to rescue you and bring you home.”
Emma brows furrowed in confusion, “What?”
“You were kidnapped-” Pinocchio was cut off by the crew bursting with laughter.
“I wasn’t kidnapped, I left willingly.”
“But the prophecy-”
“Prophecy?” 
A crew member came forward holding a book, “They had this with them ma’am.”
Emma took the book, offering a smile as thanks. She looked down and realized what she was holding in her hands, “You mean the storybook you made for me when I was ten?”
“But your father offered your hand to anyone who could bring you home safely,” Baelfire informed her.
“EXCUSE ME!? He did what?!”
“I thought you said you left your parents a note, lass,” Hook piped up from the railing he was leaning against. 
“I did, they either didn’t read it or didn't believe it. Fuck! We’ve been gone for months now. They must be worried sick.” Emma began pacing. While she never wanted to cause her parents and distress she just wanted some space. In the midst of her pacing a thought occurred to her and she stopped. 
“Wait,” she turned back to the men on their knees, “There are two of you. So if this was a “rescue mission” and the prize was my hand how was that going to work, huh?”
The men stayed silent.
“What? Was it whoever got to me first cause I know for damn sure neither of you are keen on sharing.”
Baelfire and Pinocchio hung their heads in shame.
“Really? I can’t believe you two.”
Hook approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his chest, resting his chin on her shoulder, “What do you wish to do, love?”
Emma relaxed in his embrace, her gaze still fixed on the men before her. “Take them to the brig for now.”
As the crew stood them up they struggled against their restraints, pleading with Emma to listen to them. Their pleas fell on deaf ears as Emma and Hook retreated to the captain's quarters. Hook closed the door behind them, looking wearily at Emma, who had her back to him, her hands placed on his desk with her head hanging down. 
“Emma? Love? Are you alright?”
Emma sighed, turning around, “I’m just in shock I guess. What were they thinking? What was my father thinking?”
“I would assume your father was desperate to have his daughter back safe at home. And as for your friends, they saw this as an opportunity for you to view them more than just your friends.”
Emma huffed, rolling her eyes.
“Did you ever have feelings for them as they do you?”
Emma turned to see him inspecting his hook. At the sight of his uncertainty her shoulders dropped and her face softened. She walked over to where he leaned against his bookcase, moving to stand before him. She gently cupped his face, making him look at her. “Never. I would be lying if I said I never thought about being with one of them but I never felt for them the way I do you.”
Killian smiled, turning his head to give her palm a tender kiss.
“I do care for them. Pinocchio has been there for me ever since I could remember, and he is great.”
“But..?”
“But he has it in his mind that he has to take care of me.”
“Ah and we both know you are a lass that can take care of herself.”
Emma hummed in agreement before continuing, “And Baelfire hates magic because of his father. So he would always hate a part of me. And I know he still plans to find a way out of this realm, never to return. I would love to explore other realms, hell it’s why I ran off with you, but the Enchanted Forest is my home.”
Emma looked up to see Hook's eyes had gone wide and his jaw set. “Killian, what’s wrong?”
“That man was Baelfire? The Dark One’s son?”
“Yeah why?”
A look of pain crossed his face as he moved away from Emma. 
“Killian what is it?”
“You remember the woman I told you about? The reason for my revenge against the Dark One?”
“Yes, Milah wh-” then it dawned on her, “Milah was Baelfire's mother.”
“Aye,” he tried to force a laugh, “The dark humor of the gods I suppose. I not only took his mother from him but the woman he’s in love with.”
“Hey stop that.” Emma placed a hand on his shoulder, “You didn’t take anyone. We both left on our own.”
Killian looked at Emma, still feeling the weight of guilt on his shoulders. 
“Do you regret meeting me?”
“Never. Meeting you was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”
Killian leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft reassuring kiss. When the kiss ended they pressed their foreheads together.
“I’m sorry for what happened with Baelfire, Milah and you. But I refuse to feel bad about falling in love with you,” Emma whispered.
Killian sighed contentedly, “So what do we do now?”
========================================
A week later
King James sat on his throne in the council room with his head in his hands. His heart was heavy with grief. A gentle hand laid on his shoulder, he looked up to see his wife wearing a sad smile.
“I just want her home.”
“So do I. We just have to have hope-”
His wife was cut off by the sound of the doors bursting open, a dwarf running into the room.
“Grumpy what is it? What's wrong?”
The dwarf in question was out of breath, leaning forward on his knees. “It’s...It's Emma,” he panted.
The king stood with a force that sent his chair to the floor. “What? What about Emma? Has she been found?”
“She *inhale* She..*cough cough*”
“She’s what?” Charming demanded.
“She’s home.”
They heard a small voice coming from the entryway. Snow and Charming’s eyes both snapped to the door behind the dwarf to see their daughter standing there in a pair of black boots, brown trousers, and a white long sleeved shirt underneath a blue vest. 
“Emma!” The couple gasped before they made their way around the table, past the still out of breath dwarf, engulfing their daughter in an embrace.
After a couple minutes they pulled back slightly, looking over their daughter.
“Emma we were so worried about you,” Snow said.
“Are you alright? How did you get back?” Charming inquired. That's when he noticed there were three men standing in the room. All of them stood straight shoulder to shoulder, with their hands behind their backs. He recognized two of them as being Baelfire and Pinocchio, the third man he’s never seen before but by the sight of him dressed head to toe in leather he assumed this was the man that stole his daughter away.
“I see.” The King let go of his family, stepping towards the men. “So who was it? Which one of you brought my daughter home to me,” he asked, smiling brightly, overjoyed that his daughter was home.
He waited for Baelfire or Pinocchio to step forward. For one of them to take credit for the rescue. He was taken aback when the pirate stepped forward, revealing his arms weren’t in restraints.
“Actually, Your Majesty, it was I that captained the vessel that brought your daughter home.”
Charming’s brows furrowed, he approached Baelfire and Pinocchio, turning them to see their hands tied. Charming turned back to his daughter and saw her holding the pirate's hand.
“What's going on?” Charming asked.
“Emma?” Snow looked between her husband and their daughter.
“I wasn’t kidnapped, I left willingly. I love you both and this kingdom, but it’s suffocating being the Savior and Princess of Misthaven. I wanted to explore, have adventures, like the ones you used to tell me about.”
“So you ran away with this pirate?”
“Killian Jones, at your service Your Majesty.” Killian bowed, hoping the show of respect would give him some brownie points.
“I met Killian about a year ago-”
“And where exactly was that?” Charming now stood with his arms crossed.
“At a tavern in the village.”
“You’ve been sneaking out of the castle!”
“Charming,” Snow chided her husband. “We’re listening, Emma, go on.”
“We met about a year ago and he would tell me about all the places he’s gone and things he’s seen. Then he offered to take me with him. And we fell in love.”
“A simplified version of events but the truth.”
“Why did you come back now? After all these months?”
Emma gestured to the men next to them, “These two tried a dashing rescue, and informed me you offered my hand as a prize to whoever could get to me first.”
The frustration and confusion that once captured his features melted away and shame replaced them, “Emma you must understand. We didn’t know where you went, what happened to you, if you were even alive. We grew desperate.”
Emma sighed, “I know. That is why we are here.”
Confusion once again crossed the King and Queen’s face.
“Ahem. I suppose it’s my turn to speak. Your Majesties, as the one to bring the princess home, I humbly ask for your blessing to marry your daughter.”
====================================
“Captain on deck!”
Killian boarded the ship that he’d called home for over 300 years.
“How’d it go Captain?” Mr. Smee asked as he approached him.
“It went as expected.”
“So, Mistress Emma?”
Killian smiled, “She just saying her goodbyes.”
Emma stood on the docks with her friends who were now unbound. The king and queen had given them their blessing. So while the King and Queen were busy planning their wedding, that will take place a year from now, Emma and Killian were free to travel and have adventures. Emma said goodbye to her parents this time around now all there was left was the unfinished business between the three friends.
Emma shuffled from foot to foot, unsure what to say, “Guys I-”
“Are you happy?”
Emma looked at Pinocchio. “What?”
“Does this, traveling on a pirate ship, being with Hook, make you happy?”
Emma smiled. “Yeah. It makes me really happy.”
“Then go.” Pinocchio nodded towards the ship. “Be happy.”
Emma embraced her long time friend, before letting go, turning to Baelfire.
“I know one day you’ll find whatever it is you're looking for.”
Baelfire stayed silent as he embraced her. Once he let her go she made her way up the gangplank onto the ship. She approached the man that won her heart.
“You ready for that adventure I promised you, love?”
Emma wrapped her arms around Killian’s neck as his looped around her waist, “I believe we were headed to Agrabah before we were rudely interrupted.”
Killian chuckled, “You heard her lads. Set course to Agrabah.”
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wavesmp3 · 4 years ago
Text
directors cut: oasis
[doing this entirely for myself, out of pure self indulgence lol] [this will be very messy/poorly organized and there will be spoilers]
okay so where to even begin omg..... we will start with the origins of oasis:
its actually, techinically a spin off of the world from this drabble with dino from svt. which the world in this drabble is what the world from oasis would look like very far in the future. but i changed a lot between writing that drabble and creating oasis. but there should be a scene in the drabble that is very similar to a part in oasis (hint: the first vision they got from saskila was not just a random vision with no meaning.......hehe)
but that drabble (its titled dreamscapes) was inspired by a mix of this post on tumblr about how nuclear waste warning signs sounded very cool and the book that i was reading called the children of blood and bone by tomi adeyemi
and then after i had made that drabble i saw dee’s (@/atbzkingdom’s) post about the time capsule collab, and i had a couple ideas of what i could do for it but i ultimately decided on what would eventually become oasis !! so i guess we really have dee and that collab to thank for this piece lol
now for the timeline of me writing:
so i started outlining this piece in the first couple days of january, and normally outlines take me a while to come up with just because i struggle in coming up with plot, but i knew that my spring semester of classes would be starting soon and that I didn’t have a lot of time so i just sort of grinded an outline out as well several paragraphs of pure worldbuilding. 
and then i started writing
and wow i was Really writing!! at my peak productivity i was easily getting down like 2k a day which for me is insane (for reference, i wrote 1k a day for tsiytt and i struggled my way through that) 
but then life happens classes had begun and my writing for oasis slowly become nothing... 
i really only found the time to work on the piece every other weekend, so i was really nervous that i wouldn’t finish in time (which technically i didn’t cause it was supposed to come out march 1st) but luckily i did
and at some point in february, i had lost so much of my momentum and motivation for this piece that i almost gave up on it. (at this point i was writing the scenes after they find the seat of wisdom destroyed) but again luckily i did not, but i personally can definitely see a decline in the quality of my writing towards the end (i mean maybe its in my head, but its sort of like i can see the loss of love for the wip in my writing at the end of it)
but don’t misunderstand, i still love oasis!! and in all honesty, i’m already considering starting a second draft to it, which is way sooner than i thought i would lol
also when i started writing this piece, i began writing it in the order that it would be read, but then halfway i switched to writing chronologically
anyways, something i learned while writing this piece, is that writing is a marathon. whereas, even with my longer pieces, i always viewed writing as a sprint. so as i start venturing into original works and more lengthy pieces of writing, i think this was a very valuable lesson for me to have learned.
okay now to the good stuff lol: [the first word of the bullet about the next chapter (?) is bolded for some crumbs of an organized commentary]
so this is jumping to the first past bit... but when i first wrote farah i had a very different plan for her character than who she ended up being. i had imagined that she’d be a lot more cold and a tough love sort of person. so that’s who i was writing when she’s first introduced in the flashback, but she very quickly become a much kinder full of love sort of person. but anyways i mention this because whenever i read that first part and the introduction of her character, i’m always a bit taken aback by how like mean here character is to crown then lol
also zoar !!!! its a terrible place, but i love that underground city
i also wrote the first flashback after i had written the scene where crown and chanhee are talking at his place in andhor, so the whole â€œfearless” connection was done very purposefully here since i knew how it’d be referenced in the next scene. someone mentioned this small connection in their reblog but i cant remember who 
also rashi is my favorite character xD
i personally think how crown and chanhee became friends (the running thing) is so cute 
this first bit of conversation between crown and chanhee when it switches back to the present and chanhee is giving them a tour of andhor is actually quite important to me, in the sense that its the first glimpse of how their actual relationship works and how they act together and just like their dynamic despite the fact that they havent seen each other in so long 
and yeah i think kyu mentioned this and a few others, but i love how awkward it is when chanhee and crown are in his home in andhor, cause one: they havent seen each other in years! but also: anyone else find going to someone’s place for the first time oddly intimate, like wow you’re opening up your home to me and now suddenly idk how to sit or stand or what to do with my arms... maybe just me LMAO
DUDE i struggled so hard with making it so that chanhee knew how impossible this whole mission was going to be without actually revealing that he knows about the mirror. it was so hard for me, hopefully it came out alright though. if anyone is reading this, did the twist(s) come as a shock to you? did you see it coming? or did it feel like it came out of absolutely no where and not in a good way?
yes i did name the desert after the department store kohls .....
i was so excited to explain all the mage types, i had so much fun writing this whole chapter 
fun fact: there was originally another sub group of psyche mages called dream mages who had like powers with dreams and stuff, but it ended up being irrelevant and really underdeveloped so it took it out
if anyone else was raised catholic or is catholic then i’d hope you recognize the names of all the relics.... i stole them from a prayer in the rosary whoops
it took me very long time to figure out exactly how the whole soul for the relic business would work, and idk if im a 100% satisfied with what it is/how it works/how it plays into rashi giving chanhee the locket
the note new gives crown.... the first slice of their friendship blooming, bro i eat that shit up 
this part where crown and rashi are talking after the lesson is actually one of my favorites. (like i said i love rashi, but i just really love her interreacting with crown, i think they have such an interesting dynamic and one that i’ve seen irl a lot between students and teachers, where the student adores the teacher... i’ll get more into this later) but moving on, i like it for a number of reasons. one: it’s the first time we as readers get to see rashi talk outside of her role as lesson master. two: i love crown getting this validation from rashi. it’s not really expanded on a lot, but crown’s magic is definitely a bit of an insecurity for them, in the way that they don’t feel like it belongs to them. but here rashi comes, this person that crown looks up to so much, and telling crown that they’re a bit similar when it comes to having magic. and surprising crown by comforting them. and... idk i just really love this moment for crown.
okay this line: “You call your mom Rashi?” is a lowkey reference to game plan,, if anyone knows what i’m talking about then please come clown me for nearly having the entire movie memorized 
oh, i also find the capital really cool. in my head the capital was always one huge building that contains an entire city but i realized while editing that i never really explained that, so idk if i successfully described the capital as cool as it is to me 
also the five friends part.....CUTE
when chanhee says â€œi know. i remember.” !!! girl i felt that line with my entire chest. idk why
okay wait this part: â€œBut that knowledge seems to fall flat right now. Because despite everything, curiosity won the war.” i love it so much, its that tiny of sliver of hope that gets me personally
i think this part where crown’s pride is so hurt by no one telling them about chanhee’s healing magic is quite important because its a glimpse of how stubborn and prideful and headstrong of a character they can be 
also this : â€œ â€˜and do you believe everything rashi says’ / without hesitation, you answer, â€˜yes, of course’ â€œ this is another example of how highly crown thinks of rashi while growing up, almost to a fault. to the point where crown thought rashi could do no wrong. which i think is so interesting to think about when contrasted with the fight crown and chanhee have in the jungle where crown is the one discussing how rashi was wrong. i just like how much growth crown has had between all these years. and their opinion / perspective on rashi is one of the largest indicators of that growth. 
I also just really like that paragraph where shadow vs healing is explained... I think chanhee’s magic is so sick
oh also the names thing.... I can’t remember where I got the idea to do that from but im so glad I did. its one of my favorite aspects to this world, and it looks like a lot of other people enjoyed it as well. but apart from the intimacy of it, i love how the use of names affects one’s magic. and that paragraph where they go through all that a mage could do with a name. it gives me chills. just cause.... the possibilities
so many people have mentioned this line.... but I must too, so this part: “magic always comes with a price. this is new’s” ..... crazy
saskila scares me omg
again the first vision they see is not a random scene.... the easter eggs I planted with that mwahaha
yeah that scene where they’re outside the tent discussing who should give their name to saskila..... I love that scene chanhee’s “I don’t have anyone but you” and crown deflecting all that tension with the pinky promise and the saskila calling them lovers.... mwah
this random scene about the hot summer and laying with Farah and new in the gardens is another one of my favorite, it’s just so sweet
but this next scene makes me so sad
like I know what happens and I know that everything turns out okay but I get so scared for crown
yeah just that entire part after Rashi gets to them and when they’re going to the infirmary and before crown passes out... I love that whole part. i think i did an effective job of writing the gravity of that whole moment. cause it makes me a little stunned every time I read it. and I was pretty nervous about not being able to do that scene and that moment justice so I’m glad it turned out like it did
and again this line: magic always comes with a price, and in your case, it comes with several.
okay this part after they jump out of the ship and crown is talking to Chanhee but that other dude is talking too... I hope it’s not too confusing. I really wanted to show through the writing that this was all happening at the same time, but idk it came out well. like in my mind I have such a clear picture of this scene, but I have no clue if I did effective job of showing you guys what I’m seeing through the writing
oh yeah, crowns thing about dual wielding and engulfing the blades in flames.... I find that so cool. they’re so sick for that
yeah also the part where crowns hurt and they give Chanhee their name and they use it.... great moment, but I feel like my writing is a bit lacking here. i just know it could be better.
I think at this point of writing my classes had started, and again the disparity in writing quality is so obvious to me 
but the line where chanhee is describing how it all feels, and it says â€œchanhee feels golden” was inspired by daylight by taylor swift, theres a line in that song that goes “i used to think love would be burning red, but its golden” and like hello the parallels between that and crown’s fire magic.... something to think about 
so this next part where it’s back to the past and crown is getting in trouble (as crown does) but the part where crown is like asking but not directly asking for rashi’s name.... that part is so crazy to me cause it’s feels so out of place. but it was purposeful. i was trying to show that crown’s growing and that they’re at this weird age where they feel invincible. and also i wanted to put more emphasis on how being royal and the heir to the throne kind of effects the relationships crown has
and the last line of this part when rashi says â€œnever abuse it” it gives me chills whew
the next part ... another part that i had high hopes for in the outlining stages of writing, but when it came to actually writing, this scene totally flopped, i’m gonna try not to dwell on this part too much cause i just know most of my comments will be about how much i don’t like it. but just overall, this scene could have been SO MUCH BETTER !
omg this little interaction: â€œâ€œLook!” Chanhee deadpans, shooting you a glare. “The match is about to begin.” / â€œWish me luck.” /  “I hope you lose.”” i think its so funny and cute
“ Your eyes immediately got to Rashi “ another example of how highly crown regards rashi 
“In Wurltan.” hmmmmmm sus.... *laughs in i love mentioning things that won’t make sense to reader until later*
okay this: â€œYes, but not just any mage. I
” your voice trails off, pulling at your fingers and looking anywhere but at him. “I wanted you to know.” i cannot stand these two omg 
okay this part: â€œChanhee thinks and overthinks the words spoken between you both. His mind drifts off to last night as well, that moment in the tent where you shared your warmth. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring at you until you give him a funny look. He quickly looks away and wonders if you’re overthinking everything as relentlessly as he is.” this part makes me think about what ina said about how chanhee shows his love by keeping you in his thoughts and YEAH chanhee’s love language in this piece is thinking about you and staring LOL
i hate this next part, not cause i don’t like it or anything it just makes me sad 
but this line: â€œLike if someone shoved you from behind right now, you wouldn’t push back; you’d let yourself fall straight to the ground.” i actually love that line
also this next entire bit i see SO clearly in mind, i hope i wrote it well enough so that you all saw it clearly too
when chanhee wipes the dirt.... girl i’m wiping my tears 
this line : â€œWe’ll lean on each other.” mini love declaration sighhhhhh
yeah that whole part i love so much 
the seat of wisdom :(((( no!!!!!
so about this line: â€œHe stares at his palms, at all the lies buried under each nail and at all the secrets shoved in every crack. He watches as they all blow up in front of his face.” >> i had like ten different versions of it before i settled on this one lol
okay so the first part of the last past flashback with crown realizing their true feelings... so soft 
news gone, rashis’s dead, :((( it makes me so sad
gosh okay this paragraph..... â€œI’ve always wondered why the gods blessed me and you the way that they have. They entrusted you with such great power. The only person to be both a healing and shadow mage in centuries. And then,” a tear falls from her eye, “they entrusted you to me.” Chanhee thinks this might be the first time he’s seen Rashi cry. “But now I have reason to believe that this was no accident. I’m beginning to think that the gods have always known it would come to this. And I’m starting,” she falters there, “I’m starting to spite them for it.”  it hurts so bad im sorry 
the first confrontation with harlan took me so long to write, and i’m still not sure if i actually like it, so again i will refrain from commenting lol
but the part where crown screams : â€œYOU LOST THE MIRROR OF JUSTICE!”  I think i told kyu this but this line makes me laugh because in my head its said the same way bella says: â€œyou nicknamed my daughter after the lochness monster” whenever i see that line i smile lol
honestly this argument scene..... one of my absolute faves,,, everything lina said about it in that reblog just yes!yes!yes!! i can’t even comment about a particular part because all of it i love so much. its another part that leaves me slightly speechless.
but my favorite part of it might be how it ends hehe
these next couple parts were a bit diffucult to write because obviously the air between crown and chanhee is not very light right now so it was just hard to navigate their dynamic at these moments until they apologize but hopefully it turned out alright
i really like this line: â€œBut this moment—with the scent of Harlan’s wine under his nose and the chill of Harlan’s blade against his neck—this moment feels nothing like those. It feels empty.” 
“ Chanhee just stares at you.“ -- staring as a love language exhibit b 
this whole part... chills bro 
“Chanhee exhales because for the first time since this afternoon he looks at your face and sees you.” -- exhibit c ....
okay wait another one of my favorite parts here: the spilled glass metaphor!! again please reference lina’s rb on this because everything said there... could not have said better myself. inspired by this writing advice by ocean vuong and yeah i just think the metaphor speaks for itself, one of my favorite lines (well paragraph) from the entire piece, actually from ALL of my works 
it was so hard to think up all of yumi’s different names, i was struggling
them talking about how farah will be happy to see chanhee...... how do i break it to you crown.....she’s dead...... awkward
red streak q! yesss. also i’m so sorry for killing off farah 
also kyunyu bestiessss
tbh this whole paragraph: â€œI get this overwhelming burst of honesty. As if what you both speak of is more than just a simple truth, as if it’s a commandant you blindly follow. What’s even odder is that I only feel that burst when you speak of each other.” Q stops walking and turns so that he faces Chanhee directly. “You speak of Crown constantly. And last night, when I met Crown, your title never left from the tip of their tongue. Humans are so simple really. We mention what we love.” Q pauses for a moment, bringing a hand under his chin. “Do you love Crown?” --i wrote it for myself no regrets
oh wait this bit too : â€œQuietly, Chanhee says, “I know.” / “Have you been watching?” / “I’ve been waiting.” / “For what?” / He meets your eyes. “For you.”” -- sometimes i do things that live rent free in my own mind
okay im so sorry for just quoting myself but this too : â€œ He sits back slightly. Shocked. Not by his love for you, but rather by how easily love walked into his heart and settled between his lungs “
lol the part where they try fooling q... why are crown and chanhee like this
the running !!!
yeah also every part after that... tears okay
yumi’s magic !!! its so cool to me, i love it so much 
i surprisingly don’t have much to say about the end... i mean i like it, but i just don’t have any comments. the last line tho... good one shawna
okay im done for you sake i hope no one read this lmao 
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the-lightning-strikes-again · 4 years ago
Note
Hi! I just started reading your fan-fiction, "Adrenaline Rush" and I have to say it is VERY good. I have a question if you don't mind answering it. I am writing fan-fiction of my own and I have been pushing it off for months because I don't know where to start. For this, what was your writing process? Example: Did you write your plot first or did you write as you went to each chapter?
Hi, anon! Thanks for your very kind note and interest in Adrenaline Rush! The story has its issues/tangles, but it’s definitely been a fun and personally meaningful project for me to try writing. It means a lot to hear that you’re enjoying it! And that’s very exciting that you want to start writing as well. :)
Each writer will be different in terms of their creative process, so a part of your question involves learning more about yourself as a creator too! It’s good to know how your brain likes to work and what environment helps it hum along, which may or may not align with what works for me.
Honestly, AR’s design and development has been haphazard. For me, AR all started because I was unable to attend a nearby drag racing competition in 2018, and those races had been a pretty big staple in my life. At the same time, my head was full of Voltron shenanigans because I’d just recently joined the fandom. I was walking the family puppy when it hit me that Blue Lion, Red Lion, etc. would be good names for Top Fuel machines. I was so excited at the concept of exploring drag racing in a fic. It gave me a “race” to look forward to, along with all the drama and adrenaline that came with it. In that moment, I had enough excitement in my brain to convert the Potential Energy of my idea into the real Kinetic Energy of writing/typing.
If you have the energy but are not sure how to “start” your story, then you might consider what it means to set aside the opening or even the assumed first chapter for now. What scene/image/dialogue in your head do you really want to write right now? What happens if you just
start there, and then work backwards or forwards? Sometimes you have to get a feel for the medium you’re working with before you can really start molding the scenes and imagery into something fully formed. My first “scene” I wrote for AR was definitely not the opening one. The first story lines I wrote involved Lotor smoking a cigarette on a pro stock motorcycle, lol. I built around that image, as well as the image of a determined Allura sitting in Blue Lion, preparing to race. The desire to bring these characters and their racing machines to life really helped me hammer out that first chapter in a blur of a few days, where I puzzle-pieced scenes together. 
Other activities that can help you start a story is to look at how other authors start their stories. For example, do they start with a question, or a conversation, or a description of scenery? Do they start at the very beginning of a plot, or in the middle of action and catch you up on the details later? What kind of opening in other people’s stories most engages you? What happens to your story if you start with one element over another? What kinds of plots and story structures make you feel most engaged when you read them? What happens when you try to emulate those things? (Just questions to munch on here.)
I think it also helps to ask yourself why you want to write this story. Do you just want to explore an aesthetic that makes you feel good? Do you have a deep need to explore a certain kind of character or world? Are you hoping to get a catharsis of some kind? Is it a couple of things at once? Are you wanting to write a massive epic or just a short drabble to convey a moment in time? If you know “why” you are doing something, that can help you to know what kind of scenes to write—and what the story’s goal or vibe should be. Silly plot holes and clunky dialogue and some OOCness can be forgiven, especially in fanfic, which is a labor of love anyway—but if your story radically changes its tune or plot and no longer addresses the “why” that made you so excited in the first place, then that can alienate even you from it. Once you know what you want out of your story, then you can start plotting out all the different ways you could potentially achieve that goal. This feeds directly into the types of scenes that appear in a first chapter.
Before I started writing any actual scenes for AR, I did try to feel out more of the story by writing a promotional blurb. Like, if this were a book jacket or a Goodreads summary, what would that enticing blurb potentially look like? What was this story going to be about, aside from Lotor and Allura being pretty while they race machines, lol? I had some people in a discord who were kind enough to let me “pitch” a blurb at them to see if it would be of interest. This was my original pitch, which isn’t terribly different from the story summary as it appears on AO3 today:
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The discord members were very encouraging, and so that gave me the push I needed to start writing story content, beginning with the images of Lotor smoking on his bike and Allura preparing to qualify. This tactic might not be for everyone just starting out, but writing a short promotional blurb/story summary can help you identify some initial parameters in terms of characters/conflict/setting. Having those basic parameters can then further target the types of images, dialogue, and scenes that make logical sense for introducing your story.  
If you need more structure than just free-form writing or building off an image in your head, you can definitely use an outline to help you identify scenes or images that you’d like to try working on. While AR did not start off with an outline, it does have a plot outline now to help ensure I don’t drop something important. So I started bulleting ideas, trying to stretch out the story summary to its natural/logical end point.
An outline can help you write linearly if clear, concrete structure resonates with your brain. It can give you an opportunity to “preview” how a chapter opening can affect future events before you even write them, if you’re worried about where free-form-writing can take you. If you want to use an outline, it doesn’t even have to be all that elaborate. It can just be bullet points or explanatory sentences, or pieces of dialogue. It can be notes on a poster arranged in a spider web design. It can be a collection of gifs on your computer that signify the emotions you want to simulate in the story—it can be literally anything, and it can evolve too.
Paradoxically, writing an outline has also helped me move away from having to write individual chapters in a linear fashion, which is sometimes hard for me to do over a long course of time. So readers on AO3 might experience AR as a linear story, but I have dozens of pages of future scenes or bits of dialogue that I felt inspired to write over the last few years. Like, one major scene appearing in the most recent chapter 9, which published here in January 2021—it’s been written since July of 2019, lol. Using an outline to tackle a story can empower you to follow your bliss in a nonlinear fashion. For example, sometimes I’m more in a mood to write racing, and other times, I’m more emotionally invested in writing AR’s background drama or romance. If I halfway know where I’m going based on my outline, I can switch gears to write what I immediately want to write, and then I can later sew scenes and dialogue together later in a fairly smooth fashion.The concept of writing a chapter straight from start to finish just doesn’t have to constrain me with this method, and that’s critical for me. I understand having to trudge through writer’s block for a particular scene, but I like to minimize that pain as much as possible. And sometimes moving beyond that point can remove the writer’s block entirely.
Admittedly, the original outline I wrote for AR doesn’t match 1:1 to what’s currently written. As I started actually writing out scenes correlating to those bullet points on my outline, things changed. The space between bullet point 1 and bullet point 2 expanded with additional scenes, and those additions changed the details in the original bullet point 2. So my outline has gone through several tweaks as well.
This is the “organic” slop that can occur between your true written product and your initial assumptions for where the story should go. There are going to be plot milestones that you likely have to hit in order to achieve your end-goal/correct vibe with the story, but it’s totally okay to let your characters have a voice in how they get there. You might start an outline or a story assuming Road Trip A through the city is the best way to get to the end or achieve a certain vibe, but as your characters grow in your head, they might decide for themselves that Road Trip B through the mountains is the best way to the end. Once you set a story in motion, it’s no longer just you driving it. Your characters should drive the story too. Allowing them to do that will keep you emotionally invested and interested in the story. Sometimes, your characters will even write for you if you don’t know what to write. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure I’m in control of AR—I suppose I’m the navigator with a map sitting in the passenger seat, but I know I’m not the one holding the wheel, LOL.
And while we all do hope to create something quality that we’re immensely proud of, I do think it’s important to keep G.K. Chesterton’s thought in mind: “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” In other words, the desire to create something immediately perfect with minimal effort can keep you from doing anything at all. It’s better to accept a messy first draft and to know you may have to revise later, than to sit in fear and end up writing nothing. And sometimes, your brain needs physical content to react to before you feel you’ve found the best option. Like, just getting content down to start with can change your whole perspective. You can revise and mold things as you get a better feel for what you want to convey. There’s always draft 2 for structural changes. Or draft 3 or 4 for polishing and getting a satisfying first sentence down. There’s no pressure to crank out a Pulitzer Prize Winner on a first draft or even after you publish something to a fanfic archive. This is fanfic. It’s supposed to be fun, at the end of the day. Let yourself enjoy the process of messy creation. Let your characters help you out. Don’t be afraid to revise or try out a few different things get to the vibe/end you really want. To do is to know.
If you’re still not confident in yourself or your abilities to make a critical design decision, you can always engage a beta reader or have someone listen to your ideas. Talking things out loud or reading your work out loud to yourself can help you process creative decisions in a new way! There’s also a significant difference between typing on a computer or writing things down on paper. Typing on a computer can take away the fear of permanence, while writing things down on paper can slow you down and make you experience each word more fully.
So I guess to wrap all of this up: I have a pretty fluid process, and I’m more worried about not creating at all than I am about screwing it up. Even a screwed-up work can teach you something and help you get somewhere better next time. And if you had fun making it, then maybe it wasn’t a screw-up at all! I really encourage you to soul-search on what gives you joy or excitement regarding this fic idea you have, and to hold on tight to that joy as you begin translating images in your head or outlining plot points, or something in between.
I hope something from this response helps you! <3
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ljf613 · 3 years ago
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20 Fic Writer Questions
Thanks to @theboyfrommakapu and @old-and-new-friends for the tag.
1) How many works do you have on AO3? Technically 66, but 9 of those are really just stubs of fics I will write someday.
2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 131,183.
3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 14: Miraculous Ladybug, Tales of Arcadia, Teen Wolf, Space Boy, Dr Quinn: Medicine Woman, Children of the Wolves: Ame & Yuki, Yona of the Dawn, Fairy Tail, Shall We Date?: THE NIFLHEIM+, The Dragon Prince, Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic, The Familiar of Zero, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Avatar: The Legend of Korra, and several others that have not yet been posted. (The NIFLHEIM fic was just as a crossover for a Fairy Tail fic, I'm not invested in that one enough that I'd really write a story in that fandom on its own.)
4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. nobody wants to pay the asking price (716 kudos) 2. you don't get what all this is about (669 kudos) 3. we all bend and break sometimes (644 kudos) 4. I'm worse at what I do best (559 kudos) 5. fifteen for a moment (541 kudos) (The we all want love/we all want honor series is way more popular than I ever anticipated it would be.)
5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Always. There are times when it takes me a little way to come up with a good response, especially for the really detailed comments (I think the oldest unanswered one is from way back in January), but I get around to it eventually. I think it's really important to interact with people who've not only taken the time to read my stories, but also want to talk about them.
6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? It's Winter Again (And I Can't Wait To See You), without a doubt. I wanted to write a super-angsty Yuaang fic, and I believe I succeeded.
7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? The happiest? I haven't actually ended too many fics, and most of them didn't end particularly happily-- hopefully might be a more apt description....... I guess The Bells of Kardia Cathedral had a pretty happy ending.
8) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written? I've only written one real crossover (aside from a couple of ATLA/LOK "crossovers"), the aforementioned Fairy Tail/NIFLHEIM fic Fairy Tail in NIFLHEIM, which was pretty crazy. I do have an ATLA/Magi crossover planned that I think might be pretty interesting.
9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? I don't think so (unless I deleted and forgot about it). The closest I can think of (although I can't find it now, so I either imagined it or whoever wrote it deleted it) was someone who thinks the way I'm handling Toph in the Ba Sing Se arc of we all want love/we all want honor is rather OOC for how I've set her up in this series. I actually do understand where that person is coming from, and I plan on addressing exactly why she's behaving the way she is sometime in the next few chapters.
10) Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Nope. Never have, never will, don't even ask.
11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not..... exactly? Someone's reposted the entirety of wawl/wawh and reposted it in a single doc, but it was posted privately for personal use (to make it easier for them to download the whole thing together). I haven't yet decided what I want to do about that.
12) Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but I'm totally open to it if anyone's interested!
13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nah. There were times in the past when I almost did, but it never seemed to work out.
14) What’s your all-time favorite ship? Nathan x Haley (Naley) from One Tree Hill #otp: always and forever
15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Well, nothing's completely off the table, but probably The Death of a First Crush. I have a lot of fondness for that fic-- it was probably the first real longfic I ever attempted to write, and I always knew exactly where I was going with it and how I wanted it to end. However, I started it at a very particular time of my life, when I was going through some very particular emotional stages I was trying to convey, and I don't think I could recapture those feelings if I wanted to. And maybe also Children of the Wolves. That's a story I was super-excited about, and I'd probably been thinking about since middle school (long before I discovered that fanfic was an actual 'thing' other people might actually be interested in reading)-- but the response was so lackluster I couldn't muster up any real motivation to continue it. I would like to get back to it someday, but only if there's some real interest.
16) What are your writing strengths? I'm but a lot of thought into my at worldbuilding, I do my best to avoid plotholes, and I think my dialogue and descriptions are pretty good.
17) What are your writing weaknesses? I don't know how to draft things-- they have to be absolutely perfect the first time, or I will sit and wait until they are. Also, I can't really write action-- fight scenes and such require a lot of visual/spatial awareness my aphantasiac brain just isn't capable of.
18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Well..... I don't think I've ever really done it, although I wouldn't be opposed to it if it made sense for the plot. If it was a real language, I'd definitely want to get help from an actual speaker, rather than just relying on Google translate or something.
19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? The first fandom I ever posted for was Miraculous Ladybug. The first fandom I ever wrote for (that I actually have posted, we're not discussing the mediocre Twilight stories I scribbled out in middle school or anything) was Familair of Zero.
20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? My absolute favorite? IDK...... I really love the age of wizardry is over, and I'm super-proud of both Between the Emotion and the Response and we all want love/we all want honor.
Tagging: I have no idea who has and hasn't been tagged for this yet, so if you're interested, just go for it!
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heartcal · 4 years ago
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distant; sneak peek!
i thought i’d post a lil sneak peek of what i’m writing up! i’m planning to post it before the end of january but i have no guarantees, however it is coming within the next week! :^D (i just wanna say a big thank you to grammarly lol)
the title is set to change if i can think of something better lol
estimated to post: ~jan. 31st, 2021
sneak peek word count: 376 words
Running over what you want to say to him in your head, you miss the knocks on your front door. You also miss the sound of your lock turning and the door opening.
“There you are,” You jump at that, turning towards the front door with a hand on your heart.
“What—how did you get in?” You stumble, gone are the thoughts you had previously.
Calum holds his right hand up, his set of keys and key chains jingling as he shakes his hand lightly. He has a small smile on as he speaks, “You gave me a copy, remember?”
You stare blankly at him, recalling the time when you finally moved out of the apartment you shared with an old friend and their partner. You were so happy that you found a place to live on your own, closer to work and closer to Calum. You made him a copy so that he knew he was welcome (and also for safety reasons).
You nod with a hum in response, your eyes moving to the painting a few feet away from him.
If he notices your behavior, he doesn’t mention it as he puts his keys on the hook next to your while taking off his shoes (something you nagged him about since the living room had carpeting).
You knew you had to bring it up. It was sitting on your tongue but your brain couldn’t form the words and sentences that you had previously thought of.
He sighs out as he takes a seat next to you on your couch, his right arm stretched behind you on the back of the couch while his left arm rested on the arm.
You sat stiff, not leaning back or into him no matter how much you craved it. Rather than giving in, you were focused on the anger starting to bubble up inside of you. How can he act like nothing is wrong after ignoring you for almost three weeks?
“You’re quiet tonight,” he retracts his arm from the back of the couch and moves his hand to your forehead. “You feeling okay?”
When he brings his other hand up to his own forehead, you smack his arm away.
You scoff, letting your anger show, “Really, Calum?”
---
i can’t believe i found this in my drafts from oct. 2015 ... i love angst why did i never finish it lmao
so far i have over 1k words so i’m hoping to at least reach 3k. i need to make my fics longer and by doing that i have to write often, and i am ready to do that :^D
this has been posted!
in the meantime, here’s my masterlist! (mobile friendly!)
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disregardcanon · 4 years ago
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end of year writing meme
time for my end of year writing meme! this has been a tradition for me since 2015 or 16, so i’m excited to keep it up :) i normally do it ON new year’s eve because i write over winter break. but.
i have the depression/anxiety cocktail and have to go back to teaching next monday so i highly doubt i’ll get anything else written or posted by then. sigh
tagging @titaniumsansa @bodhimcbodeface and anyone else who wants to do it
Total Stories Written: 18 on ao3 19 completed total
Total Words Written: i know my ao3 stats are shifted p drastically this year because i updated two extensive drabble collections, but i do have more unposted drafts this year so i’ll just go with it. 96k Average Words Per Story: about 5k as the mean, which tracks Shortest Story: 370 words Heaven on Her Mind Longest: 11,875 words Academia Nuts
Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?
less! i knew i’d write less this year than i have in the past because student teaching and then first year of teaching are both supposed to be hell, but i kind of expected going into quarantine that would give me the time and energy to write.
but NO! in some months of quarantine i wrote less than i did during student teaching, certified most stressful time of my life
What pairing/genre/fandom did you write most?
pairing: cassunzel! coming in clutch at 6 stories
genre: no fucking clue
fandom: tangled was the most by number, but i think jedi fallen order is the most by word count because those two fics combined come in about 13k
What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? uh, that’s probably rwby. i always knew that when i watched rwby i’d go feral but i didn’t expect to watch it this year
Did you take any writing risks this year? i think my biggest writing risk was writing a 12k fic with romcom tropes about a platonic relationship no one cares about from a mainly dead fandom
Academia Nuts, the one where merlin and morgana are bickering in-laws and academic rivals
Do you have any fanfic or general writing goals for the new year? i would frankly just like the time and energy TO write. this year has been the most stressful and depressing time of my life and that’s reflected in my writing output. i would like to see more output because i have more energy and drive to do the things that make me happy again
From the past year of writing, what was your

Best story of this year: the thing with feathers fluttering in her chest the jedi fallen order fic about trilla suduri capturing cal kestis but still eventually deciding to defect
Personal favorite: Smoke Rises, Cinder Falls my personal take on the cinder backstory before it dropped! while i definitely like where the show took the backstory better because the hotel imagery is TOP NOTCH i still love what i did here. i think that i made good use of style and the information that we had, and i think that the salem connection works very nicely
Most under-appreciated: i know calling a fic with 65 kudos “underrated” is a bit ridiculous, but this is for a very large fandom. it might be dead but i still think it could drum up a bit more support :(
Academia Nuts, the merlin and morgana are bickering in-laws and academic rivals fic
Most fun to write: as a reward for being so fucking happy that biden won the election for real, i rewarded myself by writing the pines family reacting to it
Remember, Remember the 7th of November
Story with the single sexiest moment: how about that inquisitor caltrilla au?
I Want You to Want Me
Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: captive caresses, the one where the v shaped polyamory dynamic that i normally do with cassunzel and new dream isn’t so healthy
Most challenging to write: from a technical standpoint that would be academia nuts, but from a personal standpoint...
Scar Tissue, the steven universe fic about connie still keeping secrets from her parents
Biggest disappointment: frankly, nothing i wrote this year can be a disappointment because i put words on a page. however, i will say that i could have polished this one that i wrote years ago up more before i posted it
Holy Ground, the shireen/jeyne poole fic from like 2015
Favorite character to write: i didn’t get stuck on a fandom long enough to get a favorite character to write tbh
Favorite opening lines:
Sometimes, when Rapunzel wakes up in the morning, she likes to pretend that everything is alright. She closes her eyes and imagines that Cass is right down the hall, just like she used to be. Rapunzel will burst into her room as soon as she gets up, ready to plot some new mischief to keep them busy for the day. Cass will roll her eyes, but she’ll go along with it because she secretly enjoys Rapunzel’s plans. She’ll smile when Rapunzel isn’t looking, and she’ll call her Raps with a soft fondness that makes Rapunzel's heart melt.
Jeung
Sophie knows that she shouldn’t be walking home alone at this hour. Of course she knows that. She’s a tiny white girl who lives in Gotham with little self-defense training or experience in athletics. She’s had “don’t walk home alone” beaten into her head for so many years she wonders if those were the first words the nurse said when she came into this world.
 Not “it’s a girl!” but “don’t let her walk home alone at night!” 
Walk Me Home in the Dead of Night
Favorite closing lines:
“Follow me,” the fairy godmother ordered, taking a brisk step forward. Cinder followed without question, just a step behind. Following, following, following- just as she would be following her until the end of time. Cinder was her protege, after all, and must be prepared to take over the fairy godmother’s work someday.
That day would not come for many years, but it would come. And the fairy godmother would finally have everything  she ever wanted.
Smoke Rises, Cinder Falls
Trilla can’t exactly have her second-in-command stay that low in the hierarchy forever. A consort to a queen needs to walk only a few steps behind her, after all.
I Want You to Want Me
Other favorite lines:
She can lead a horse to independent thought, but she can’t make him think.
The Name Game
When Trilla gets back to her room, she grabs the damn cube and throws it against her wall as hard as she can. It doesn’t break, because the holocron is made of stronger stuff than that.  Cal Kestis  is made of stronger stuff than that.
Maybe she’s the only one in the world who’s so capable of shattering.
the thing with feathers fluttering in her chest
“You don’t have to forgive him,” Fuyumi says, “just don’t kill him.”
“Because he can’t come back from that?” Dabi demands, “a corpse can’t  decide that it wants to love its daughter, right?” Dabi watches as the  knife twists, and Fuyumi’s facade finally crumbles. She slams her mug of  tea down on the table, and they're both lucky that it's not full  anymore or the hot liquid would have come flying out.
Justice Without Dispassion
“But you’re a good trainer,” Lillie says, “you’re what I want to evolve into.” Selene shakes her head.
“We're  from different evolutionary lines,” she says, “you evolving into me  would be like- I don’t know. A Charmander evolving into a Blastoise.”  Lillie looks like she’s holding the fur even tighter, and Selene snakes  her hand underneath to disentangle Lillie’s hand from the fur and give  her something else to clutch. Lillie squeezes her hand like a stuffed  Jigglypuff that people carry around to squeeze away their stress.
“But  what if I’m stuck at Charmander forever, and what if Blastoise is  better than Charizard, and what if I’m just- just not cut out for this?”
Even Gods Like Cuddles
“Do you remember when we were really little,” you say, “and I used to  come over for dress up parties. I’d wear your extra princess dress, let  you do my hair however you wanted.” You smile, thinking about how cute  the pictures that Bianca’s mom took of you two looked. Your mother  always said that they’d be good blackmail material, someday, but-
It wasn’t ever shameful, especially not if your mother didn’t make you feel ashamed.
“Of  course,” Bianca says, “you were always the best at sitting still. No  one else would have let me do their nails and makeup.” You’re not  looking at her, but you can hear the soft smile in her voice.
“You were always so indulgent, Hils. I really appreciated that.”
“I wasn’t being indulgent,” you say, balling your hand into a little fist and rubbing your thumb over your knuckles.
“I always- I just,” you say, “I wanted to be that “girl friend” that you always wanted.”
Girl Talk
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unsettledink · 4 years ago
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Back in the days of LJ, I used to try and do a post at the end of each year, looking back primarily at fandom and fic. I fell out of the habit when everything moved to tumblr, and then it seemed like I didn’t have anything to say since I wasn’t writing or really participating any. 
But I always liked the idea of it, because I love to be overly reflective on stuff. And talk about my fic. Any excuse! I shuffled around some of the topics I used back then and added a few I’ve seen around that I liked. It got
 long, because I TALK, so I split into two sections. 
*
Your main fandom of the year? 
    Marvel (MCU) for sure. Primarily with characters from Spider-Man and Iron Man movies.
Your favorite film watched this year?
    The Old Guard - I saw a couple trailers and everything about it looked like catnip. ‘It’s probably going to be so dumb, but I don’t even care,’ I thought. And then it was so good. It was so much fun and so much smarter than I expected and I loved each and every character and it just made me happy in so many ways.
Your favorite book read this year?
    Red, White, and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston - I read it twice this year actually. It’s so
 cute isn’t the right world. Sweet and hopeful and soft and comforting and intense. I liked every single character which is pretty rare. I cried during the sad parts and then again at the happy ending, like straight up sobbed - both times. I already want to read it again.
Your favorite tv show watched this year?
    Schitt’s Creek - I started it on a whim and because a lot of people had said it was good. The episodes were short so it wasn’t a huge time investment. The first season was a little rough, but there were enough funny moments that I hung on, and then
 I kept getting fonder and fonder of these idiots as they grew. And THEN
 it kept not disappointing me? 
     You grow to expect certain scripts, twists, jokes, especially in queer story lines. To wait for the bad thing to happen, because it always does. Instead, Schitt’s Creek kept going, ‘hey, here’s the set up for that! Guess what? We’re not doing it. Here’s the happy version instead.’ The relief of having that happen again and again - the last season I’ve watched (I’m sort of saving 6) I cried a bunch but it was always because I was happy. 
Your favorite album or song to listen to this year?
    1896 - I’ve been waiting for the new Steam Powered Giraffe album so eagerly for aaaaaages. Finally getting recordings of Zero’s songs! Lying Awake remains my favorite off the album, with Eat Your Heart and Bad Days on the Horizon high up there as well. I’m loving what Zero brings to the band.
Your best new fandom discovery of the year?
    I don’t know if I really did discover that much? I stuck pretty closely to old fandoms and the ones I picked up in 2019. Maybe Zodiac? It was definitely inspiring, and I want to write and read more in it. 
    Maybe the couple discords I joined? I still really dislike discord and am not on there much, and mostly lurk when I am, but having somewhere vaguely like the comms I remember makes me feel a little less isolated. It’s the potential, that maybe if I said something I might make a friend, or someone might actually want to hear what I say. 
Your biggest fandom disappointment of the year?
    The Watch - I mean, I knew it was going to be a disaster with every word said during pre production. I wasn’t ever going to be happy with it. And then it came out and was even worse and uglier and 
 disrespectful not just of the source material but of actual people connected to Terry. I’m beyond disappointed that this is what we got, and it’s probably going to be a long time before we get anything else. 
    Devil All the Time was terrible, but I didn’t have especially high hopes. It still didn’t manage to meet them. Yikes.
The most missed of your old fandoms?
    Maybe MASH? Someone I follow started talking about it and I was reminded all over again of the wonderful fics in that fandom. I went looking and a lot are gone (still on my computer, lol, but not online), but rereading was such a trip. A slightly depressing trip, but still. 
The fandom you haven't tried yet, but want to?
    Hmm. I’ve kind of not had the energy to invest in other fandoms at the moment? When The Witcher was having it’s big moment back in January, I had a feeling I might enjoy it enough to fall headfirst into the fandom, so I avoided watching it. Ikr? I don’t have the time or the energy to actively seek anything out. 
Your biggest fan anticipations for the New Year?
    SO EXCITED about Winter’s Orbit. I mean, the third Spider-Man movie for sure, with worry. The second Venom movie, ugh yes. I have tentative hopes for Jungle Cruise? Jumanji was stellar and I always enjoy Dwayne. I have both hope and dread for the new Suicide Squad - I did love Birds of Prey, so if it’s along those lines, yay. The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard because it should be some fun garbage, my favorite kind. I don’t know how I feel about Dune, but, uh, I’m anticipating it. It seems highly unlikely it will actually happen, but The Wheel of Time TV series. 
I want to be excited about Black Widow but it’s hard. It’s not the story I’ve been wanting to see, and I’m angry about Natasha not getting a movie until she’s dead.
You know. If any of it is released for real.
The Good: 
I moved to a better place. I got a better paying, better benefits, better environment job that lets me work from home. The house acquired 3-7 more cats depending on the month. I was able to get some serious problems on my car fixed. I have insurance and was able to start on some health stuff. No one I know got sick or died. I wrote a LOT.
The Bad: 
Aside from the obvious? Depression hitting extra hard during the winter. Having to put two kittens to sleep. Have my car be hit three times in our parking lot. Being driven INSANE by one of the cats for months while the vets were all closed. Kidney stone. Dealing with several health problems. Stalling for months on Gotcha.
The Indifferent: 
Not leaving the house often or easily. Enjoying a new fandom but not doing great at making connections (still real awkward, bud). Raising kittens and saying goodbye. Need new tires. Reading a lot of fic but not a lot of books. Having more pay but more expenses as well (wth insurance??). 
*
2020 fic stats
Number of stories: 39
Number of fandoms: 6? Or 2, if you cluster the others under mcu
Total number of words: 152049
Average word count per story: 4kish
Longest fic: Causality (18k, P/Q)
Shortest fic: Can’t, Won’t (1k, P/Q)
Most comments received: Sieche (49, T/P)
Fandom you wrote the most of: MCU Spider-Man - I only wrote TWO fics that didn’t feature that fandom, wow. And one of those was still MCU.
Fandom you wrote the least of: Zodiac (1!)
Events you participated in: Marvel Trumps Hate, Kinktober, IornspidersGeorg Exchange, Starker Festivals Exchange, MCU Secret Santa, Spiderio Big Bang
*
Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted?
    SO MUCH MORE OMG. I mean, even just counting posted stuff! (I probably wrote a solid 300k of Gotcha this year.) I did not expect or plan on doing Kinktober, so that’s a whole 31 fics right there. I also wasn’t planning on doing any exchanges - I have a History - but then I did three? And beyond that, I did not expect for everything to get so LONG.
Topic you wrote that you would never have predicted in January:
    Tony/Quentin. Goddammit @the-me09 They were like hey, they could be interesting! And while I agreed, I had no ideas for them. THEN they had to go and write Just Bodies That Collide and next thing I know, I’ve got ten fics featuring them and two-six series focused on them or Peter/Quentin/Tony. What the fuck. 
Leitmotif of the year:
 ïżœïżœ  Vulnerability, I think. I had a bunch of things typed up and they all circle back to vulnerability in the end; sex, being seen, being wanted, sharing trauma, asking for help, trying something new. Offering a soft spot in the hopes it won’t be hurt. 
Favorite character to write about: 
    Tony Stark, for sure. There are just a bunch of slightly different takes, and a lot of canon to work with (kind of frustrating too though). And I’m a sucker for emotionally damaged snarky traumatized characters that are viewed poorly both in universe and out. 
Favorite kind of fic to write:
    This year? Fluff and smut combined. Maybe that’s not the right term really. I keep looking for and writing, even in the angstiest fics, for those soft moments. Sure, maybe it’s a super smutty kink scene, but I want the affection to be obvious. Maybe everyone is consumed by guilt, but I want it to be based in caring too much. Maybe there’s no real love, just sex and even that’s messed up, but I want to find that tiny bit of fondness. 
    And I want happy endings. Or endings that look like they’re going to be happy, at least, even if there’s all the angst first. I don’t think I’ve killed anyone this year? Who AM I? 
Biggest disappointment:
    Not finishing the rough draft of Gotcha. I was making such good progress in 2019, from August to December. Even after the move, I basically finished part 6 in January. I fumbled around and fussed with 1 a lot, but that had already been given one draft, really, and I got through half of 4 before I slowed to a stop. I’ve barely gotten anything accomplished on it since June. Bits and pieces here and there, but nothing significant, not like I was doing. I can excuse October, due to 80k invested in Kinktober (yikes!), but aside from that
 I’m sad. I’ll finish it eventually, but I really thought I could have the first draft done in a year. I’m sitting at about 480k out of what I’m almost certain will be 700k. 
Biggest surprise:
    Kinktober! It was kind of spur of the moment, decided just a week in advance. I’ve tried month long or even like, 20-25 day long challenges and I don’t think I’ve ever completed one. I thought there was a good chance I’d do so again, so I gave myself a little help and made my own list of prompts, things I knew I liked and hadn’t done much of yet. And it worked? I actually completed it, what the hell? Despite spending five days travelling near the end! Despite falling behind in getting ahead and writing a bunch of stories the day they were to be posted! Despite apparently forgetting how to do short form! 
    I, uh, could have done without the spawning of eleven series or sequels or continuations jfc WHY SELF.
Something you learned this year:
    Ideas breed ideas. I swear to god, the second I sit down to think through a current idea, I wake up the next morning with three more. 
    Words need to be restocked. I need to consume new - not rereads, not fic - content every so often to refresh my word bank. It is astonishing how quickly writing goes again after I’ve done so.
    I can write so much more than I thought I could. I can do so much more than I thought I could. Yes, I can complete challenges without dropping out early. Yes, I can do exchanges and not regret it. Yes, I can write more than 100k, more than 200k, more and more - and I can write 10k+ easily too. Though I wouldn’t mind if I could once again write less than 10k without feeling like I’ve cut off in the middle. 
    My time is shrinking, and if I want to write as much, I’m going to have to make the time. I can’t rely on three days off a week, on seven hours of uninterrupted overnight shifts, on hyper focused writing binges that leave everything else around me on fire. 
Most memorable comment: 
    So, so many! I can’t pick one. I’ve been really lucky to get a bunch of really detailed, enthusiastic, analyzing comments across all different fics. One of the types that always sticks with me are the ones like ‘I didn’t think/know I liked this ship/kink/twist, but fuck, apparently I do? You made me, what the hell?’. 
What, if anything, are you going to try to do differently in your writing in the new year?
So with writing Gotcha but not posting until it’s done, my view of what I’ve written vs anyone else’s is extremely skewed. I’m sitting here thinking, hey I’m 400k in and got another 10k done today, so much writing! While anyone looking at my AO3 account (for most of the year) is like, you’re averaging three months between fics :(
    All that to say I want to try and get something posted more frequently while I’m working on Gotcha.
    Also, writing for kinktober was really interesting - pushing myself to write every single day, often for that day’s post, forced me to get back into shorter form fic. Which used to be all I did? But it was surprisingly hard to just stop and not write more. So I’d like to challenge myself to write more fics under 10k at least. Maybe even under 5k though that might be asking a lot lol. I might get there with the many continuations of those fics I’d like to do. Does that count?
Goals:
   I want to hit 365 fics. :) I’m only 32 away!
    Aside from writing - 
    I’ve really enjoyed the reading record sideblog I started this year. I’ve let it lapse a little the past month or so, but I’d like to keep it going strong. 
    I’d like to leave a lot more comments. I want to get better about allowing imperfection - I want to write The Best Comment, but in the end? Probably 90% of fic writers are going to be happier with a comment expressing enjoyment in any way over no comment at all. 
And not just on fics, but on general posts as well. It’s hard not to feel
 weird and stupid and invasive and rude leaving any sort of comment on someone’s post if I don’t know them at least a little. I have godawful rejection sensitive dysphoria and a lot of interactions that ended poorly; I’m really not good at people. But as dumb as it feels to say those things, I know I am thrilled and warmed and happier when there’s a reblog with tags or a note or a comment or an ask or just, any small interaction that shows someone out there notices and cares, at least a little. There’s no reason I can’t at least try to offer that to other people. 
    I’d like to make/run a couple challenges of my own, later in the year. I’m still figuring out what I want to do and what I could do. I’m really interested in doing something that’s not focused on creators, but the readers; some sort of comment or rec challenge maybe.
    I want to find a cheerleader for Gotcha. I’m struggling to keep up my motivation to write it when it’s already in my head, where I can ‘read’ it any time. There’s a line between depending too much on external validation and trying to generate all your validation yourself, and I’m getting to a point where I think I need to ask for help (gasp! The hardest thing EVER). 
*
(Part Two: Pick Some Fics)
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aswallowssong · 4 years ago
Text
Second Child, Restless Child
Chapter 7 - The World Outside Calling Me
@valkyrie-5583​
Read on AO3
Y’all, it happened. We’re finally updating. It would not have happened if @themetaphorgirl​ had talked me off the ledge so thank you Caitlin. Also thanks to my sweet little duckling of a sister, @starstwinkleplanetsshine​, for always reading my drafts, from like, the start of time. OKAY SO
Section Chief Ramos is the least helpful person on the planet, Kit and Hotch have a ridiculously uncomfortable conversation, and Gideon finally confronts nobody's favorite liaison/nurse.
or
In which Kit feels really lost, really sad, and really unsure of her job. 
She would have rather been anywhere else. She would have rather been in Gideon’s office being chewed out for speaking out of turn, or back in the ER during flu season, or facing down an unsub without Morgan.
Anywhere but in front of Section Chief Ramos’s office door, tapping her foot and clenching and unclenching her fingers. She needed to stop messing with the seams on her scrub pants - they were starting to wear - but she didn’t want him to open the door and see her pulling at her hair. She did a good job of masking her quirks and outlets for her pent up energy in the clinic with everything moving at such a rapid pace, but standing in front of the door, waiting for it to open? That was torture. Regardless of the fact that Ramos chose her to represent the clinic, and therefore the health department, as part of the Health Liaison trial run, she knew he didn’t like her very much. 
Ramos didn’t like anyone very much.
He let her stand like that for seven minutes before the door opened. Ramos wasn’t exactly a large man. He had nothing on Hotch, who towered like a giant over her and gave off every vibe you would expect from someone in the FBI. Instead, his entire intimidating demeanor was in his eyes. Eyes that were glaring right at her.
“Nurse Colghain,” he said. There was no hint of kindness about him. “Come in.”
She followed him into the room and sat where he directed. His office was more clinical than Hotch’s, which she guessed made sense considering he was the Health Department/Academy Clinic’s Section Chief, but still. He could use some pictures of the wife he was rumored to have. Instead, he had plaques and other achievements around. Egotistical. Narcissistic. She gave a minute shake of her head to will the thoughts away.
I need to spend less time with the profilers.
“This is your monthly review,” he said, jarring her from her thoughts. She nodded, unsure of what else to do. When he didn’t continue right away she awkwardly nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
“You began the pilot Health and Wellness Liaison position on January tenth. Today’s date is February twenty second. In this meeting we will review position requirements, health meeting reviews, and you will give a report of duties and activities you have been able to complete in this time, as well as any other pertinent information to assess the validity of this pilot position. Do you understand the purpose of this meeting?”
She raised an eyebrow at him, looking down to see a small device with a red light blinking sitting right next to his hand.
Ah.
He was recording it. Ramos was formal, but not that formal. She wondered who would hear what she was about to say.
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good. Let’s begin.”
The first part was easy. Just reviewing her position requirements, which she’d long since memorized for both her Head position, and her position at the BAU. Normally they had quarterly reviews, but because of the infancy of her position, Kit had been notified they would be monthly “until further notice.” She assumed that would mean they would be more like a check-in. Shorter.
She was so incredibly mistaken.
After the first part Ramos leaned back in his chair, something shifting in his eyes and the atmosphere in the room. He was smug. As if he’d caught her in a trap. 
“Nurse Colghain,” he said with a little too much confidence. Not Agent Colghain, like Hotch would have said. Nurse. Which, while it was a title she was proud of, he didn’t even call her Head Nurse. Just nurse. One of nearly fifty on staff. Insignificant. Replaceable.
“Please tell me how many Health and Wellness meetings you are required to give a month.”
“Two, sir,” she answered easily. “Every other week, if cases allow, but two a month.”
Ramos nodded, something like mirth cutting across his face. “Then tell me, Nurse Colghain, why have you only held one meeting in nearly six weeks?”
She stared at him for a moment before blinking. “As I said, sir,” she started cautiously. She was being recorded. She would defend herself professionally. “Every other week, if cases allow. As we said before, I’m required to travel for cases related to medical, as well as others, in order to be present for twenty-five percent of out of town cases.”
“And those cases made it impossible for two health meetings to happen over a six week period?”
He was right. She could have made it work, but between Gideon and them going on cases without her, it was hard to find the courage to force the BAU team to sit down and listen to her harp on diet for any length of time. They were busy. She’d seen first hand how their cases wore on them. She’d experienced the wear herself. 
“It wasn’t practical based on the number of cases over the last six weeks to take time away from either reports or research for a meeting about one of the approved health topics.”
“Wasn’t practical?”
“No, sir,” She said, voice becoming quieter and more timid as Ramos’s presence in the room seemed to increase. A hand ran over the outside seam on the leg of her scrubs. It itched to tug gently at her braid, but she didn’t dare. 
He let there be silence for a moment before he leaned forward towards her. His eyes had narrowed. “Twenty-five percent of cases, Nurse Colghain. That leaves seventy-five percent of your time free to plan and execute the required health meetings.”
She shook her head. “Sir, it’s twenty-five percent of out of town cases. My original duties stated I was to be a part of all in town cases.”
He scoffed. “And what percentage of your time would you say is taken up by cases, in general?”
“Thirty seven percent.”
Ramos looked stunned, and Kit gave herself one moment to be glad she’d been listening to Reid the Friday before when he was rattling off percentages for her. She’d asked because she was worried she would be under the twenty five percent minimum, and was pleasantly surprised to learn she was over. 
“That leaves-”
“Plus,” she continued, not letting him get ahead of her, “My team travels on cases without me, too. They were gone another thirty seven percent of the days in the last six weeks, which means that even if I was preparing for a meeting, they weren’t there for me to give it. And we spent three days working on a consultation, which was medical related, and filling out reports for a poisoning case in New Jersey. That’s what, fifteen, sixteen percent? And SSA Hotchner was out one day, which only leaves five-”
“Nurse Colghain,” he warned, “I believe you are far too comfortable. Throwing around percentages as if I am unaware of how you spend your time based on the reports you submit to me.”
She blinked at him for a moment, deflating. The confidence she had spouting numbers withered away under his glare. “But, you- you asked for the percentage.”
“For one. I don’t need a math lesson from a clinic nurse.”
Ouch.
She crossed her arms over her chest, staring down at her knees and staying quiet. She wanted out of Ramos’s office. Back to the clinic where she knew she wouldn’t be questioned. 
“This month, I expect three meetings.”
Her eyes snapped up, jaw falling open. “Sir?”
“Three, Nurse Colghain.”
“But-”
“Full reports and reviews. Understood?”
She stared at him for a moment before nodding her head in submission. She wasn’t going to win an argument with Ramos without getting written up, and it wasn’t worth it to aggravate an already aggressive situation.
“Understood?” He repeated with a little more force, and she found her resolve buckling under his harsh tone.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Let’s talk about the meeting you were able to have.”
Let’s talk about literally anything else. Let’s go back to arguing over correct percentages and health meetings that haven’t happened yet. Let me, I don’t know, punch myself in the face repeatedly instead.
Íosa Críost, Kody. Dramatic much?
“The Health and Wellness meeting regarding sleep, sir?” She asked tentatively. Ramos wrote for a while before he addressed her again, setting his pen down and pulling out seven forms from a manila folder. The review surveys filled out by the BAU team.
“Yes. I have the reviews here, written by the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and I will be honest in telling you that the director was
 surprised by the results.”
Her heart sank. Surprised couldn’t be good and with the way she’d slammed the forms onto the table in front of them all and stormed off without a word. It hadn’t quite been a week, and they had gone on a case without her on Sunday afternoon. She hadn’t seen them since the Friday after it had happened.
She’d kept to herself, too, and had chickened out of talking to Gideon, telling herself she had meetings to plan and case reports to finish. Morgan had been the only one to try to talk to her, even offering to go to Gideon with her, but she’d declined, and the only reason she’d spoken to Reid was to get the percentages that Ramos had just ostracized her for.
Her tantrum of sorts was embarrassing at best, and after she worked a whole clinic shift, did a full set with her cĂșpla at the bar, and slept on it, she wasn’t really ready to face him. Any of them. It had been a relief when she’d shown up to the office and found that they’d flown off to Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska, population five dead girls and a terrified town.
Kit sat forward in her chair, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Surprised, sir?”
Ramos nodded, face morphing as he gave off a wave of annoyance. “Yes, pleasantly surprised. It isn’t often that a meeting ends with a positivity rating of one hundred percent.”
Kit’s eyebrows pulled together as her jaw went slack, eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to process what he’d said. One hundred percent positivity rating. How was that possible?
“I don’t understand, sir,” she finally said, “All of them? They were all positive?”
He nodded, though looked as if it truly pained him to do so. “Yes. All seven reviews were positive regarding your content and professionalism. Some more positive than others, of course, but all positive.”
“Even Gideon’s?” She said before she could stop herself, not believing what she was hearing. There was no way that Gideon had given her a positive review. There was no way that anyone had given her a positive review. She’d argued with him. She’d slammed the surveys into the round table and abruptly finished their meeting before stomping out. She had to be missing something. Or, being punked. Did the FBI punk people?
Ramos raised an eyebrow at her. “I cannot show you the reports, as it’s a matter of confidentiality, but yes. SSA Gideon is a part of the BAU team, which would mean that his review survey of your meeting was positive.”
It should have made her feel better. It should have made her feel good to hear that Gideon, who she was sure without a doubt hated her, gave her a positive meeting review. Especially considering the fact that he was the one she had been arguing with before she so ceremoniously took her leave. She should have been settled, and put at peace over it.
It should have made her feel better.
It didn’t.
It pissed her off. 
Lying to fit the mold didn’t seem to be Gideon’s style, and the fact that he’d done it, to her, made her furious.
“Are we done here?” She spouted without thinking. She suddenly felt like she was vibrating, and she needed out of Ramos’s clinical office and the uncomfortable chair she was sitting in. 
He sighed, setting down the review surveys and folding his hands on top of them.
“I have one last thing.”
She shifted in the chair, but stayed quiet. The longer she was quiet and listened, the faster she could probably leave. Anger pulsed through her chest, and she knew exactly where it was going once she was done listening to whatever annoying thing Ramos wanted to finish with.
“Before, you said my team in reference to the BAU.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, sir.”
“They are not your team. You are not a part of their team.”
She watched as his eyes went hard, his voice slow and simple as if he was explaining something to a child. Some of the ice that had hardened over her heart started to melt, her anger ebbing slightly as her chest started to swim in the melting slurry. 
“I’m sorry?” She asked.
“You are not a part of their team. You are a part of the health department. The clinic staff.”
“But,” she started, “Hotch said-”
“SSA Hotchner is your point of contact for the BAU. He isn’t your supervisor. I am. You report to me. And you, Nurse Colghain, are separate. A liaison. A connecting point. Not a part of the disorganized, ridiculous mess the Behavioral Analysis Unit has become.”
“The BAU is full of incredibly talented people.”
Morgan. Elle. Hotch. Reid.
She’d seen them work first hand, many times in her six weeks with them, and she was always confused as to why people didn’t seem to understand the magnificence of what they did. She could read people’s emotions, sure, and very well. She’d give herself that. But what they did? What each one of them did? It impressed her to no end. Even Gideon, when he wasn’t pissing her off, was an incredible profiler to watch.
“The BAU worries about finding maniacs,” Ramos said dismissively. “You worry about keeping people alive.”
She shook her head, sitting straight up in her chair. “Profiling keeps people alive.”
Ramos shrugged, clicking off the recorder before looking her dead in the eyes. “And you are not a profiler, Nurse Colghain. You are a nurse. Right now, you’re splitting two positions, and not doing one incredibly well. A questionable liaison. Arguably, a decent nurse.”
Questionable. Arguably decent.
“They are a team,” he continued. “You are a clinic nurse, and you will never be more than that. Do I make myself clear?”
Kit let her eyes hold his for a moment. Every bit of her icy anger had melted, leaving her feeling upset, and sloshy, and confused. Hotch assured her all the time that she was a part of their team, but Ramos was her supervisor. He was in charge of her position, and he told her she wasn’t a part of the BAU team. She never would be. She didn’t belong.
She didn’t feel like she belonged in the clinic anymore, either. Between only being there three days a week, once on the weekend when she’d never worked that rotation before, and the traveling for cases that sometimes took more than one day, she had lost some of the “home” feeling she associated with the clinic and her nurses.
I don’t belong much of anywhere.
“Yes, sir.”
She finished her clinic shift quietly. That wasn’t necessarily unusual. Unlike the last six weeks in the BAU, the clinic was never something new. Always something different, but never anything that was surprising or particularly stressful. She could spend days upon days quietly directing with very few words, saving the most gentle and caring ones for younger academy cadets that were very far away from home and either sick or broken. Something about nursing softened her. It always had.
The BAU did the opposite. Somehow, in only six weeks, it had brought a part of her out that she hadn’t known for a long time. The part that smoked cigarettes under the bleachers during study hall and complained loud and long about music lessons and stepdance, though she secretly loved both. That wore dark lipstick so she wouldn’t look just like Monty. Who had more detentions than both her cĂșpla, though both Ari and Monty had their fair share. 
The BAU brought out the part of her that argued. That fidgeted and got frustrated and stood up for herself. The part of her that was confident. The part of her that was trouble.
While her rebellious nature had taken time to soften all those years ago, Ramos had stripped her of its reprise in an hour's time. She stood for far too long after her shift was over, staring at the outside of the locker she shared with Monty. She’d dodged her twin by hiding in the bathroom until five o’clock had come and gone. The chipped paint of their shared space was partially covered by the plastic name plate that sat in the top middle, reading, “D. Colghain / M. Colghain.” 
They’d requested to share a locker, and now three days a week, it was empty when Monty came. They didn’t get to meet in the break room and exchange quips back and forth before Monty had to work, and Kit had to go home without having seen her other half, the fire to her ice, before she figured out something for Ari and her to eat, plunging into sleep before he could ask her about the things she saw with the BAU.
So, after her meeting with Ramos, and the rest of her shift, Kit had been sure to clear out long before Monty was there. She didn’t want to talk to Monty, because Monty didn’t get it. No one really could. She was in a strange position that not one person had been in before, and all Monty would do was remind her that the clinic was her home, like Ramos had, even though the clinic didn’t feel entirely like home anymore.
She didn’t belong at the BAU. She never would. Ramos made it very clear she wasn’t supposed to let herself.
What the hell am I doing? What am I supposed to do? 
You could talk to Hotch, Kody. He has kind eyes. He’s nothing like Ramos.
Ramos’s words echoed in her ears.
SSA Hotchner is your point of contact for the BAU. He isn’t your supervisor. I am. You report to me. And you, Nurse Colghain, are separate.
“What the hell am I going to do?” she mumbled in her mother tongue, staring at the locker a few minutes longer before she started for the metro station.
-----
Kit stood outside the glass doors the next morning earlier than she normally would. Instead of the anger she felt the day before in Ramos’s office, anxiety lived in her chest. She’d popped her fingers so many times the night before that they were sore, and she was thankful it was still February so she could wear a thick sweater that covered the red marks she’d scratched into her forearms. She hadn’t realized she’d been doing it, and while it hadn’t gone on enough to draw blood, they’d stung in the shower and looked much more angry than they felt. She usually pushed up the sleeves of her sweaters and cardigans, because she hated the way the cuffs felt around her wrists, but she had already mentally prepared herself to leave them down and deal with the annoyance all day.
Time passed faster than she thought it would, and when she was grabbed gently by the shoulder she jolted, turning and shifting into a defensive position without having to think. It didn’t reach her that she was fairly unlikely to be attacked on the sixth floor of their FBI building, but Hotch was clearly unphased by her reaction, hands up in front of him to signal his intent.
“Sorry, I called your name twice,” he said evenly. “I could tell you weren’t quite grounded.”
She took a breath before relaxing, hands coming not down to her sides, but to settle on top of her backpack straps. Her hands clutched tightly around them, and she took another breath before saying, “I um. I wasn’t. Thanks.”
Hotch nodded, picking up his briefcase from the ground and nodding towards the double doors she had just been staring at. She followed behind him as he walked through the door. “How was your meeting with Ramos?” He asked, clearly attempting to be casual. While it should have made her feel good, and included, it just made the weight that had been vibrating around her chest settle deeper.
You aren’t included, Kody. You’re separate.
“It was informative.” 
“Anything I need to know?” he asked as they walked. The casual, conversational tone of his voice sounded less forced than before, and it made her chest feel tighter and tighter as their steps synced. Six weeks didn’t seem like a long time, but she felt like she’d been splitting with the BAU a lot longer. 
She needed to force that all down and away.
“No, Agent Hotchner. Though, I will be required to give three talks by the end of March. We were short last month, and Section Chief Ramos made it very clear that it’s unacceptable.”
Hotch stopped short, turning and raising an eyebrow at her. She didn’t call him Agent Hotchner, she hadn’t in six weeks. The confusion and concern coming off of him set the weight in her chest even deeper, and she worried at her lip between her bottom teeth as she waited for him to affirm her request.
“Of course,” he finally said, “Though that should be on me. It was a busy month, but I should have made time.”
“No, Chief Ramos made it very clear that it’s my responsibility. I’d like to do one this week, if possible. Friday, if your team isn’t on a case.”
Hotch looked at her with searching eyes, and she could tell he was profiling her. She didn’t need to ask, she knew the look by then. They all had one, and this was Hotch’s.
There’s no inter-team profiling. Even he agrees with Ramos.
“Is there something bothering you, Colghain?” He asked finally, both of them stopped in their tracks. “Something Ramos said?”
She shook her head quickly. If she said something, she would probably get in trouble. She reported to Ramos, not Hotch, and it was clear she was on thin ice.
“No, sir. I just want to do my job well.”
“Is it Gideon?” He continued, dropping his voice though there was no one else in the bullpen. It was too early. “I spoke with him about the meeting last week. He said he would talk to you once we got back, but if you need me to-”
“No,” she said quickly. There was more force behind her words than she intended, and she watched as Hotch shifted from offensive, to defensive. “No, thank you,” she tried again, softening both her tongue and her body language. “It’s nothing. Really.”
“If Ramos made you uncomfortable-”
“Stop.”
Kit shook her head too quickly at him, watching the miniscule shift in his face. He’d flooded the space around them with a level of concern she couldn’t handle. She couldn’t have him care about her.
He shouldn’t care about her. She wasn’t one of his to worry about.
She fiddled with her fingers, letting her hands tug at her sleeves, but not push them up. “Listen, Agent Hotchner, I appreciate your assurance that I’m a part of this team, but I’d like you to stop telling me that.”
His eyebrows came together, eyes softening. “Kit, you are a member of my team.”
“But I’m not. I’m a liaison from the health department.” 
He shrugged at her, shaking his head and gesturing towards JJ’s empty office. “JJ is a liaison from the communications department.”
Kit shook her head, giving a sad smile and waving him off. “It’s different.”
She didn't want to tell him about Ramos. It would be like tattling, and they were FBI agents, not kindergarteners. As far as she knew, Hotch was JJ’s supervisor. She was a part of them. Kit was separate.
“I don’t see how it’s different,” he said, “but if you really feel that way, know that it isn’t on our end. By isolating yourself, you’re creating a barrier.”
“I thought we didn’t profile one another,” she said, feeling annoyance start to dance inside her chest. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what Ramos had said.
What if Ramos is full of shit?
What if Hotch is full of shit?
He simply raised an eyebrow. 
“The rule is on inter-team profiling. Did you not just say you weren’t a part of my team?”
She stared him straight in the eyes for a moment. The air around him had settled into the feeling she probably hated most of all.
Pity.
She latched her hands to the backpack straps over her shoulders to keep herself from pulling down hard on her twin braids.
“I need to prepare for the health meeting on Friday. We’ll do one in the afternoon. I’ll see you at the morning briefing.”
She turned away from him and walked to her desk without letting him respond to her, and she knew it was petty, but she didn’t need Hotch’s pity. She didn’t need anyone’s pity.
She could do grief, and anger, and fear all day. She could handle trauma, and regret, and incredible sadness. Illness. Confusion and skepticism.
She hated pity.
She didn't need anyone to pity her. The middle child of nine. The rebel. The decent nurse. 
Trouble.
She didn't need it. Not from Hotch.
And she didn't need him to see the tears of frustration and self loathing pooling on her lashline.
She’d clearly gotten too big for her britches, and Ramos had helped bring her back down to earth. She wasn’t a stiff. She was a nurse. That’s all she’d ever be.
-----
“Colghain.”
Kit looked up from the papers in front of her to Gideon’s even voice. He was looking at her with the same intensity he always wore, beckoning at her with one of his hands before walking back into his office without another word.
She raised an eyebrow, significant anxiety flooding into her chest. She didn’t want to deal with it. She’d already had a conversation with Hotch that she didn’t want to have. She’d had a conversation with Ramos the day before that left her upset and self-loathing and desperate to feel like she belonged somewhere she most certainly did not belong, and never could, and never would.
And, Kit had avoided having a conversation with Gideon at every turn. She’d perfected it, as far as she was concerned. Hotch had tried to make them talk, and they’d either argued, or she’d avoided it completely. She didn’t want to have an actual conversation with Gideon. She hated Gideon. He hated her. 
Why would he ever want to actually confront the issue?
“You better go, Lep,” Morgan said casually, flipping through a file. He looked exhausted. They all did.
“I don’t want to talk to him.”
“What happened to the girl that was like, ‘oh yeah, I’ll talk to him tomorrow,’ like, a week ago? Scared?” He teased, swapping his voice to a higher pitch in an imitation of her.
Despite the frustration she’d found with Hotch that morning, and the dread that flooded through her at the realization that she shouldn’t be getting close to anyone on the BAU team, she found herself smiling and rolling her eyes at the man in front of her. Morgan was different. He’d said it himself that they were friends, and Kit didn’t think that meant just at work. After all, they trained together on mornings she worked her clinic shifts, too.
“Oh, belt it, Morgan. I saw that you didn’t get a flu shot this year, are you scared of something? Needles?”
She’d been waiting on that one, but he just chuckled and shook his head. “No, that’s pretty ricky over there. I don’t need a flu shot. Immune system of a champion.”
Kit had to bite her tongue in order to keep from calling him “Antibiotics Guy” out loud, settling for rolling her own eyes and standing up from her chair. 
“Sure, Morgan. We’ll see. Will you back me up if you hear screaming?” She asked, the nervous energy never leaving her as she stood to face the music. Maybe they’d fight and she’d get fired. It would sure make being a part of just the clinic an easier feat. 
She’d never worried about getting fired this often in her life, even when she was nineteen years old and working trauma in the ER. It surprised her how calmly she considered it as her weeks with the BAU added up.
He chuckled and nodded at her, turning back to his file and speaking with his eyes on the page in front of him. “Sure thing. Hey, can I have your desk space if he roasts you to a fine crisp? I like to spread out.”
“Oh, mĂșchadh, Der.”
“I don’t know what that means!” He taunted, but she didn’t turn back around. She was already steeling herself for battle.
Gideon was sitting at his desk, glasses on, and didn’t look up when she entered his office. She stood there for a moment before she knocked on the door frame.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah, sit down,” he mumbled, scribbling something in his notebook.
As bad as she wanted to tell him no, she would definitely not sit down, she could hear Hotch’s voice echoing in her mind.
I spoke with him about the meeting last week. He said he would talk to you once we got back.
The BAU team was back, and now, she needed to sit and listen to whatever it was that Gideon had to say.
You’re just a nurse after all. You should be the one apologizing.
“Gideon-”
“Colghain, I’m going to be honest, I don’t like that you’re here.”
Wow.
“Okay?” she said, dejected confusion on her tongue. Gideon wasn’t oozing annoyance or frustration like he usually was, but she couldn’t read him. He was almost apathetic. He wasn't even looking at her.
“The bureau forcing a new position like this says that they don’t trust units to manage themselves.”
Kit thought about that for a moment. She’d heard that from Morgan, and she understood why he would feel that way. He was a senior agent. He’d come back into the field after being on medical leave. She’d actually been one of the nurses that had read over his file before they would clear him to go back to work. Gideon had been in the BAU since its conception, and it made sense that he didn't like change.
"What about JJ?"
"Pardon?"
He looked up then, the tendrils of his confusion tugging at her skin.
Kit kept her train of thought. "JJ came from the communications department. She was a new position at some point, but you seem to get along with her just fine. You trust her."
"JJ isn't interested in anything but her position," he said simply. "And she’s proven that she does it very well."
"I'm not interested in anything but my position, either," she said. She felt like she was gaining some footing. “And, as of the last six weeks, I feel like I’ve shown that I can do my position well. Or at least, I can when I’m being allowed to do it.”
“Your position as a babysitter?”
“My position as an expert in my field.”
Their eyes were locked now; Gideon’s unwavering, Kit’s challenging. 
“My job is to keep the team healthy, inform you all about healthful practices, go on takedowns, and give my input on cases that need it.”
“Reid knows anything your input could give us.”
“Not when he’s running a fever and trying to think straight while masking from you all.”
Gideon’s face shifted for a fraction of a second, but the concern that flooded the room told her she had the upper hand.
Good, asshole.
“Which you didn’t know, did you? In New Jersey. Not only was I reading tox screens and dealing with pushback at every turn, from you, on a case that was medically mine. I was also managing the symptoms of your protĂ©gĂ©, who if you hadn’t noticed, has the constitution of a wet piece of cardboard.”
Gideon was on the defensive now, standing up from his chair. “We had an unsub to worry about. Reid can take care of himself.”
Kit stood from her seat to match him. She didn’t report to Gideon. She wasn’t on his team. He was on Hotch’s, and as far as she was concerned, she didn’t have to give in to him. They weren’t on the same team at all.
“And while on that case, regardless of you trying to step in and do my job regarding Hill, I still managed to take care of Reid, give valuable information about botulism and rohypnol, and get our foot in the door at the hospital.”
Gideon didn’t respond for a moment, and while it probably wasn’t a good idea, Kit kept going.
“And, just so you know, I don’t appreciate you lying for me on official documents. I’m a professional, and I’m damn good at my job.” All the things she’d talked to Morgan about were flooding back.
You just told me, so tell him.
That’s what he’d said.
Maybe she would.
She laughed once. “I’m good at my job. I proved it to the Health Department. My siblings and I are the youngest Head Nurses the clinic’s ever seen. We were the youngest in the history of the hospital we were at before that. Hell, the Director sees my files directly, and was on the team that selected me for this position. Me, not either of my cĂșpla.”
She watched him for a moment before she added, venom on her tongue, “I’ve proved myself again and again. I don’t have to prove it anymore. Not to you.”
“I didn’t lie,” was all he said, though his apathy had melted. There was something else there. Something she couldn’t place.
“What?”
“I didn’t lie on any official documents. Never have.”
She blinked at him for a moment. 
The survey, you idiot.
“You gave me a positive review of my health meeting. The one you very specifically stopped before I was done to tell me I was wrong, and then argued with Hotch that I was wasting your time.”
He shrugged, pacing to the window and peering into the February air. “My personal feelings about the necessity, or existence, of your health meeting on sleep don’t change my opinion of your delivery. During the meeting, until I interrupted and jibbed, you were incredibly knowledgeable and professional. You were concise.” He shrugged again. “It was the best delivered health meeting I’ve been a part of during my time with the bureau.”
She stared at him for a moment, face working through a plethora of emotions before she settled on annoyance. “Then why in the hell,” she started, “would you have interrupted me?”
“Principle,” he said simply. “Understand, Colghain, I have an issue with your position. I also have an issue with the fact that you profile as a reformed rebel, and the sort of restless trouble that lies behind your eyes tells me you never really left it in your past. You’ve repressed it. You’ve buried it. You mask it in the clinic, and you’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to mask it around this team.” 
What the hell sort of inter-team profiling is that?
You’re not on his team. You aren’t on the same team at all.
“As a person,” he said finally, sitting down in his chair, “I don’t mind you. Elle is a rebel in her own right, and I think it helps her in this job. As a position, yours is one I don’t care for, and don’t anticipate lasting very long. Hotch would like us to get along better, which I’m not opposed to. If you stay out of the way of the profilers, I have no issue with you being here. As a member of the team, I worry that you’re in over your head. Mind your temper.”
“I’m not a member of the team,” she said automatically, though she didn’t sit to match him. “I’m separate.”
“Even better,” he agreed, picking back up his notebook and gesturing towards the door. “That’s it. You can go.”
Is he
 dismissing me?
The likeness to her high school principal ignited in her chest like heartburn, and shook her head. “If you stay out of the way of my duties and contributions, I have no issue with you, either.” 
She stood for a few seconds before turning towards the door. 
“And Colghain?” She turned to face him, but his eyes weren’t on her anymore. Almost like they never were. “Yes?”
“Be nice to Reid. He cares about what others think more than he’d let on.”
Kit stood and blinked at him for a moment before she found herself rolling her eyes. “I thought Reid could take care of himself.”
Gideon scoffed before shaking his head, dismissing her again as he mumbled under his breath. “Trouble.”
“Jaded,” she said simply, striding out the door without another look back.
Did that help? Did that even help at all?
Of course it did, Kody. There was an agreement in there somewhere. Stay out of each other’s way, and everything will be fine. Hotch will be happy to hear it.
Kit walked quickly back to her desk, sliding into her seat and placing her head in her hands. She wished the day was over, but it was barely two, and she needed the next three hours to prepare her meeting for Friday. Two days to prepare wasn’t optimal, and she wondered if she’d need to stay late at her desk. They were supposed to play another set the next night, and she didn’t want to cancel on her cĂșpla like she had for five straight weeks after starting her position.
“Are you okay?”
She considered leaving her face in her hands and pretending she didn’t hear him, but Gideon’s words, to her great distaste, rang in her ears.
Be nice to Reid. He cares about what others think more than he’d let on.
She sighed and sat up, directing her eyes to the sheepish looking doctor to her right and nodding. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. Morgan had disappeared, which she didn’t notice at first, and Elle was nowhere to be found.
“Did you talk with Gideon?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it
 good?”
Kit watched his body position shift as his discomfort increased.
He probably thinks you’re going to snap at him, or tell him it’s none of his business. Good job, Kody. Great. You’ve given him anxiety.
She nodded, giving him a small smile. “I guess it was,” she decided. She wasn’t sure, but that’s where she settled. “Thanks for asking.”
“Yeah. Yeah, um, sure. I just know that things have been weird and that you don’t really get along, but I told him that you know a lot of things and you’ve got a lot to add to the team. Actually-” He stopped himself suddenly, eyes lowering and hands fidgeting before he shook his head. “Sorry. I was rambling, I’m sure you have things to do.”
She watched him for a moment before she found herself shaking her head. Reid, she was learning, was largely harmless. Plus, she could use his overflowing memory to her advantage.
“Actually, how much paperwork do you have to do? I could use some help with something.”
He looked back up at her and took a second before grinning. “Oh, my paperwork is done.”
“Great,” she said, settling back into her seat and picking up her pen. “What can you tell me about physical activity in adults between the ages of twenty and sixty?”
His grin shifted into a full smile. “Tons.”
“Perfect,” she said, leaning towards him to show she was engaged and ready. “Tell me everything.”
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