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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 11 months ago

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James Potter was not a patient person. That was why he was not good with surprises. When people told him: "I have a surprise for you". He got anxious thinking about what could it be. It reached to the point of nervous pacing, ruffling through his hair for a million times, inconvenient since his hands were very sweaty. All of his body got very sweaty. It was really a nightmare to wait.

So that was why he was moving through Lily's dorm like a freaking tornado. When his girlfriend said she had a surprise for him, he didn't only get anxious, he got excited.

Surprises were somehow romantic. As long as he was the one surprising others.

But anyway, James went through the girls' things like a curious little kid mainly to distract himself. To be fair, the feminine world had wonders to explore. Makeup tools that looked like torture devices. Noisy toys that said things like: "I love you" in a very creepy tone. Fluffy cushions, cases and even pens. Everything was truly fascinating.

James even found a toy cocodrile that when its teeth were pushed, it closed its mouth on one's hand. That made James yell in pain.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked from the other side of the bathroom door.

Besides the nerves, anxiety and excitement eating him alive?

"Yeep!"

Lily giggled.

God! Why was she taking so long?

James wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, took a seat on Lily's bed and sighed.

That's when Lily came out.

"Okay, I'm ready"

James heard the door opening but he didn't have to turn to feel Lily's presence. Her perfume was delicious and she had bathed herself on it apparently. It gave James pleasant chills. When James turned, he saw his girlfriend had fixed her makeup, with those sparkling shades he loved, pink cheeks and rosy lips. She was truly beautiful.

Lily was also wearing a large blue coat. Closed to her chest.

"Are we going out?" James asked as he stood up and turned to take a better glimpse.

James thought they were doing a movie night and then falling asleep in each other's arms. Like always.

Lily blushed suddenly. Then shook her head with a smile.

Lily looked down and opened the bottoms of her coat so slowly that James felt temped to come closer and help her do it faster. But James was frozen. He shook a little in anticipation. And he didn't even know why.

Though James understood everything when Lily revealed what she was wearing under the coat. It was freaking lingerie.

Transparent red lace. A little dress that reached to Lily's hips. James could see the red underwear underneath it.

James and Lily had been dating for months. And James had never seen Lily without clothes. He had imagined how Lily's underwear would look based on the straps he could sometimes see when she wore tops or the color shape he could distinguish under the white fabric of the uniform's shirt.

But actually seeing Lily like this was beyond comparison. James knew Lily was beautiful. But right now he was realizing she was more fit than he imagined. All those imagination Lilys during those wanking nights couldn't give her justice.

James was speechless. He couldn't breathe. His throat was automatically dry and his body was automatically hot and hard.

"Oh my...." James tried to swallow but his throat was dry. "Jesus Christ"

So now all his saliva was on his mouth because he was drooling.

Lily laughed shyly "Lily Evans, remember?" she said, then started turning around "How do I look?"

When James saw Lily peachy little bum in those panties, his mind exploded provoking some damage because what came out of his mouth was:

"Yer.. lek... I'd.. Jefjd... Oh yeh..."

Lily bit her lip and Oh my God, that gesture wasn't adorable anymore. It was fucking magestic. The most sexy and erotic thing a girl could do.

"Find your words, Potter"

James tried again.

"Am I dead and reached heaven?"

Lily giggled.

"Did I trip and have a concussion? Am I in a comma?"

He pinched his arm and it hurt beautifully. He was alive. And awake!

"I am glad you like it" Lily tried a lower voice that made James's genitals twist inside his pants.

Then Lily covered her face in embarrassment.

"God, is this too much?" She said and James's sweet girlfriend was back "Maybe it was not a good idea"

"It was the best idea!" James exclaimed "Forget about all the ideas that had ever crossed your mind, even the ones that made you say: 'Wow, I am a genius'. This is the best idea someone could ever had. Holy Shit! If ideas had a Prize Novel, this would definitely win"

That made Lily laugh. James was dying inside. He was drunk with needs and instincts he had sworn to keep in control around Lily. His hands wanted to touch. His lips wanted to kiss. His tongue wanted to taste. His dick... Well... Begging for attention.

James and Lily had decided to wait for the perfect time to have sex. James had done it but Lily was still a virgin and sex was a big deal for her. They discussed it. And she saw it differently.

"It's not like I have the need, or I see sex as a fun way to get off" she had explained "For me it is an opportunity to be intimate with the person I love the most in the world. And even if I love you, James. I am not there with you. Please respect that"

It had been a bit frustrating as a horny teenage boy to learn to wait. Especially when Sirius and Remus were all over each other. And were in their honeymoon phase of shagging when they had the minimum chance. But James loved Lily. And he had sworn to himself to be a good boyfriend and not pressure her. He had appreciated other ways of intimacy as well. And everything had been incredible with Lily. Although, God. How much he wanted her.

James's thoughts were interrupted when Lily began singing in a soft melodic voice.

"Stars shinning right abooovee youu...."

James was static as Lily walked closer to him. She was singing with a bright smile on her face.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck she sang "Night breezes seem to whisper..." and then she sang the next part on his ear "I loove you..."

James chuckled happily.

"Birds singing in the sycamore tree...." she almost whispered the next part as she sang looking into his eyes "Dream a little dream of meeee...."

It was kind of impossible to be this in love with someone. They were breathtaking moments when James couldn't believe how amazing Lily was. Not only beautiful and sexy. But truly wonderful. Lily had been an unreachable dream for James. He had fantasized about what she was. Now that he had the real Lily, he had fallen fast. There would be no one in the world like her. Never. And yet, James couldn't believe he had the chance to date her.

Lily pushed James delicately until he was seated in her bed. James didn’t take his eyes away from her. And she climbed on his lap as she sang the next part:

"Say 'Nighty-night' and kiss mee" True to the lyrics she gave him a little peek on the lips. "Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss meee...."

James smiled as he buried his face on Lily's collarbone. Mainly to hide the surprising tears that were threatening to appear. He gave her a little kiss there.

"While I'm alone and blue as can beee...." Lily continued singing and James felt her throat vibrating with her voice. He carried on kissing her there "Dream a little dream of meee...."

Lily stopped singing as she let out a little moan that drove James even more crazy. Her neck tasted so good.

He wanted it all. He wanted to be the first and last man to kiss Lily like this. The only one to be able to touch her, kiss her, provoke those sounds... He was a bit drunk and possive as he kissed Lily's mouth hungrily and pulled her closer...

But James also wanted to be the best boyfriend in the world. A gentleman. Someone she deserved. So he stopped even though his whole body was protesting for more of this delicious feeling.

"Lils," he said with a half a moan but then cleared his throat "Lils, I thought you wanted to wait"

Lily's cheeks were red as crimson. James had never seen her like that.

"I know..." she snorted as she looked down. She got off James's lap. And he regretted saying anything for a second.

"You turn eighteen next week" Lily said and James nodded "And it is the first birthday with me as your girlfriend. I never had a boyfriend before. And I never celebrated a boyfriend's birthday before...." Lily chuckled a bit embarrassed "So when I was thinking about what to give you, I was going through a few ideas... And when our friends told me what they got for you, I realized I am your girlfriend! Not your friend! I should give you something more special, more romantic... Something a friend wouldn't give you".

"Your virginity?"

James was an idiot. It wasn't even funny. It sounded better inside his head.

To his surprise, Lily let out a little laugh.

"I discussed this idea of the lingerie with the girls" Lily explained. "Mary said it would blow your mind and that it would be the best present ever..."

"Mary was absolutely right" James smiled dreamily. Lily smiled back.

"Searching for your perfect present made me realize how in love with you I am. And how I wanted to make you absolutely happy"

James was out of breath. He was so in love with this girl.

"Thank you, beautiful" he said as he put a lock of hair behind her ear "I love you too. And I loved seeing you in that lingerie" he chuckled "Trust me"

Lily chuckled as well, covering her face "Consider it the best birthday of my life!" he added, making Lily laugh

"But we don't have to do anything you don't want..." James added in a serious tone "Like I told you. I want to wait until you are ready" he said "I don't want you to do anything because you think it would make me happy or to be a better girlfriend or because you want to give me a good present"

James made a pause and grabbed Lily's hand.

"Being with you makes me happy. No matter what we do. Even if we just watch a film and snog a little.... Maybe more then a little"

Lily smiled at the last part. Her eyes were glowing or maybe they were sparkling with upcoming tears. James didn’t know. Either way, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

"James" Lily took a deep breath. Then kissed James in a quick peek "The thing is that back when we talked about it for the first time, I thought about having sex with you and it felt weird yet..." she made a pause and looked into James's eyes "But now, when I think about it. I feel goosebumps all over my body. And there's nothing I want more...." she blinked at him as she smiled "All I feel for you is infinite love and I trust you with whatever happens. I might not want you sexually, but I... But I want that intimacy with you"

The way she said it, sent shivers down James's spine. How can someone be this brave to speak about mature themes like those? They were just teenagers. They were so young. Yet, Lily was so wise.

"It is not precisely physical... At least for me" Lily carried on "But I want you to touch my body like it is the most precious treasure you had found. And I want you to make me feel like I am only yours. And I want to trace your body and soul to find a James no one else knows...." Lily's face was very red as she said the next thing "It is about making love. Not having sex. And for that,...." she swallowed "I am absolutely ready"

It was hard to compete with those words. James cursed himself and all the moments that he wanted sex with Lily just because he was horny and he found her absolutely fit. He cursed the moments when he saw Sirius and Remus getting out of the bathroom looking flushed and fixing their clothes and wishing he could have that. Just that easy. Because he was a teenager and he wanted that fun. And he wanted to have sex and brag about it to his mates.

Although now he felt stupid. He felt like an idiot not to want the same as Lily. Not to crave for that kind of intimacy. Now he was so grateful they decided to wait. Because he wanted that. He wanted to feel that close with Lily.

James didn't know how they were going to manage that, but he figured that the love they felt for each other was enough and that it would take care of all of it.

"I love you so much" James practically cried those words as he pulled Lily in for a passionate kiss. Just to show her how in love he was with her.

Lily let out a crying gasp as she melted into the kiss. It was different the way she was kissing him. Not shy and delicate as she always did. It made all of James's body shiver. As Lily climbed into his lap one's again, James felt like a shot of adrenaline rushing through his veins. His body reacting to the way Lily was moving and the way Lily was kissing him.

James pulled away as his eyes focused on the girl's face. Just to make sure. Lily didn't seem uncomfortable like the first time James tried something. She was just radiantly happy.

"I want this so badly, Lily. Everything with you" he said softly as he caressed her cheek "Are you really sure?"

Lily took a second to answer "I want this with you. I want you to be the first. And the only one"

James smiled at this because he thought the same. All the girls he had shagged before had been meaningless. This was for real. He didn't want this with anyone else ever again. James didn’t care if he was too young or that he was still in school and he hadn't met other people yet. It didn't matter, all the pretty girls he could encounter in his life. Lily was the only one for him. Maybe she always had been. Maybe she would always be.

James Potter couldn't love anyone more than he loved Lily Evans.

So he smiled at her, a genuine smirk of happiness. And he kissed her again. His heart was beating so fast that he was worried of having a stroke or something but all of it felt great. Amazing even.

Lily carefully pulled James's shirt over his head with a gorgeous smile. God, this girl was going to be the death of him.

When James was shirtless he laughed. He laughed like a little kid, back when he played chasing with his parents and he was so happy that he wanted that moment to never end.

And everything became less tense when Lily began laughing with him. It was them. James and Lily. They were in love and they felt comfortable around each other.

James flipped them over until he was on top of Lily. And she looked beautiful lying on her bed, her red hair spread on the mattress. She looked happy. James wanted to kiss all of her. He wanted to merge with her until it was only one soul.

"Shall we carry on?" James asked, just in case, but hoping it was affirmative since the bult inside his trousers was difficult to bare.

"Yes, my love" Lily nodded as she giggled.

"I love you" James whispered and he began kissing her neck without restrain. He was reaching heaven right there.

"I love you" Lily responded with a pleasent sigh.

And that was it. James and Lily were entering to paradise and once in there, there was no turning back.

#Jily's first time needed to be especial #God I love them so much #Also Asexual Lily Agenda #marauders #maraudersera #james potter #lily evans #james x lily #jily #wolfstar #asexual #asexual lily evans

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gfiasco · 4 months ago

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AGOB 2

“Okay, we must've grabbed the wrong weapon.” Suncloud says, keeping his fear contained.

“There was only one KIND of weapon, Suncloud!” Windeclipse argues.

“Wait, where's Moonstar?” Suncloud asks. “Oh wait, they’re right there.”

Suncloud notices Moonstar just casually walking away and asks, “..Wait, why didn't WE think of just walking away?”

“Because.. uhhm..” Windeclipse tries to respond. “I dunno.”

“Guys I'm gonna go eat a couple souls be right back.” Moonstar says.

“HEY, WAIT!-” Suncloud and Windeclipse shout in unison.

A small pop sound plays as Moonstar teleports away.

“How the heck do they do that.” Suncloud rhetorically asks.

__________

“Okay guys, I GUESS we have to do the challenge.” Skittle gives in.

“It's nothing to be worried about, Skittle! It's basically like a game of hide and seek, except it's a bit easier!” Top Hat encourages.

..This made no impact on Skittle’s attitude.

“Oh hey, there one is!” Crown eagerly shouts.

He uses his blaster. Again, nothing happened.

“..Isn't something supposed to happen? Skittle genuinely asks.

“I guess not?” Top Hat partially answers. “Whatever, just leave it be.”

They kept walking, trying to shoot the glitches, but to no avail.

And then, they all suddenly appeared back to where they were before.

_______________

“..So did anyone get a working blaster?” Suncloud asks their team.

Most of the responses were a form of “no.”

“That’s weird, our stuff worked!” Happy Meal commented.

“Oh. I probably gave you the ones without working bullets.” Comma said. “Because that challenge wasn't fair, might as well do another one!

“Aww, seriously?” Suncloud asks.

“Yeah, you just gave us one.” Galaxy A14 added.

“Alright, fine. We can do the challenge tomorrow.” Period says. “For now, I guess you can just know each other better.”

“Finally, free time!” Happy Meal says to himself.

Happy Meal decided that this would be a good time to meet some new people and maybe be friends with them.

“Hey, Suncloud!” Happy Meal calls to.

“Yeah?” Suncloud asks.

“Uh.. I was thinking.. we could be friends?” Happy Meal asks. “Sorry if I'm just-”

“No, no, it's fine!” Suncloud reassures. “I was looking to make some new ones as well!”

Suncloud hands out a handshake, and Happy Meal accepts.

[how do i type a fart sound]

“Whoopee cushion.” Suncloud says before laughing so hard that it'd be hearable from outer space. Oh, and Happy Meal too.

“Though, it's probably going to be a bit weird battling against your own friend.” Suncloud says. “Anyways, wanna see my siblings?

“Yeah, sure,” Happy Meal agrees.

“So while we're on the topic of relatives, who were your parents?” Happy Meal asks.

It was like Suncloud froze at the hearing of that question.

“..Suncloud?” Happy Meal worrily asks.

“I’m fine.” Suncloud responds.

“Uhh, do you have like.. bad history with them?” Happy Meal asks. “Sorry if I struck a bad memory in your head.”

“You could.. say that.” Suncloud says. “Oh, we're here.”

“So, meet my two siblings, Moonstar and Windeclipse!” Suncloud introduces.

“Oh, you actually found a friend?” Moonstar jokingly asks. “Just took you 11 years and a miracle. Not bad.”

“HEY!” Suncloud yells.

_____________

“Hey, Pudding,” 7-Ball calls.

“Hmm?” Pudding responds.

“Y'know, you really shouldn't lash out over Happy Meal. Yes, he DID break that thing, but how was he supposed to know that it would contain a whole world that multiple people would be transported to upon being released from its prison?” 7-Ball asks.

“..Well, when you put it like that then I guess that makes me in the wrong-” Pudding suddenly stops. “Hold on, how the HECK did you know what happened?”

“I've already been to the place! I took a lot of the good stuff, though,” 7-Ball admits. “And for some reason I added cameras to the place. When I heard about movement happening there, I checked and there you guys were!”

“Ah. Well if you can excuse me, I guess I'll apologize.” Pudding says.

______________

Happy Meal accidently bumps into Pudding.

“Oh, sorry Pudding.” Happy Meal apologizes.

“No wait, I actually wanted to apologize for yelling at you.”

“Oh.” Happy Meal says.

“Welp, bye Happy Meal!” Pudding waves.

“..Well at least she's not mad at me anymore.”

_______________

the next day or something..

“Okay! It's time for the challenge!” Comma happily says.

“And this challenge is simple! You only need to name your team!” Period adds.

“..That's it?” Galaxy A14 asks.

“Yeeeup!” Comma confirms. “And the challenge starts right now! You have 20 minutes.”

“Okay guys, we need to think of something.” Suncloud demands. “Maybe we can just put two words together?”

“Colgate.” Moonstar abruptly says.

“..no.” Trapezoid says.

“Then how about..” Moonstar thinks. A smirk appears on their face.

“Moonstar, we aren't doing that.” Suncloud says with a sigh.

“Okay, fine. Then uhmm..” Moonstar thinks again..

“How about Outer.. tale? Because each of us come from a different point in space, and we have our own stories?” Suncloud asks.

“Eh, it's fine.” Galaxy A14 judges. “We'll go with it.”

___________

“So, you guys thought of anything?” Pudding asks. “I'm on a blank.”

“I snuck to where the other team was, and I might have an idea.” Band-Aid says. “They chose Outer-Tale, because they're from different places in outer space, and they have their own stories.”

“So I thought, why not do the same?” Band-Aid says. “I thought about it, and I decided that we should be called..” Band-Aid declares..

“Team United!” Band-Aid yells. “So, any opposition?”

No one spoke.

“Great!-” Band-Aid started, before being cut out.

“I feel like we should come up with more ideas,” Tissue Box informs. “We need to think better, faster, and harder.”

“You're not wrong about thinking faster, we've only got 10 minutes left,” Snow Guy says.

Most of them couldn't think of anything else. How uncreative.

_________

“Time's up!” Comma and Period say in unison.

“Now tell us your names!” Comma asks a team.

“So we decided to be called Team United!” Band-Aid proudly says.

“And yours?” Period asks.

“Uhh, Outertale,” Suncloud says.

“Yummy!” Period says for no reason.

“So we've decided..” Period announces.

“That Team United is worser!” Comma finishes.

A lot of Team United glares at Band-Aid.

So, humans! Vote on the contestants you want to be eliminated. You can only choose 1, so make it count!

Also, voting ends on March 15th, or 7 days after this gets posted. And the link's below. Bye!

[Prev.] ◉ [Next]

#agob #object shows #osc #osc community #story #bfdi #object show #object show community #objectshow

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alonelystargazer · 11 months ago

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For the writers' truth or dare ask game: 🍄🍬🪲🧩

thanks for the ask moth! :)

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

For HakuHiro, I can imagine that neither Hakuri nor Chihiro grew up with friends, and so they are each others first real friends. Hakuri grew up in an abusive household on his family's estate, and only had his pet praying mantis as his 'friend', and most likely didn't go to a traditional school. Chihiro didn't go to school either because him and his dad were in hiding all those years, so he might have been home-schooled and never met any kids his age. They make good partners in battle but they are probably a little awkward as friends at first. And I can't imagine either of them having any experience with dating. To me, it would be pretty funny if Shiba played wingman and gave them advice on how to rizz the other up.

putting the rest under a read more

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

ngl I had a hard time choosing a character because I don't wanna be a hater, but ughhhh I guess I'm gonna go with Gojo, sorry! It's a fairly minor grievance, though.

I don't think Gojo should have allowed Yuuji to pull that prank on Megumi and Nobara when Yuuji came back from his two-months of training. How the hell do you expect those kids, who believed their friend and classmate DIED two months ago, to react when he suddenly pops out of a box all happy and dandy and ALIVE??

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

hehe thanks for encouraging me to write something! my HakuHiro fic hasn't been opened in days 😅

Three months have passed since he fled from his family and the estate. 'Exiled' would be more accurate, in this case. It took the death of that young woman with icy skin to make him realize that lifestyle didn’t suit him at all, and he needed to get away from it. A harsh lesson learned at the cost of her life, and for that he needed to make her sacrifice worthwhile.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

I won't read most dead dove content except for maybe gore and violence.

Any untagged triggers or warnings will also make me click away, not because there's something that I find triggering, necessarily, but I think it should just be common courtesy.

Most people are thrown off by bad grammar or misspellings but I wanna be fair because English could be someone's second or third language, or someone who's just starting out as a writer. But if it does get to a point where's I can't understand anything then yeah I'll stop reading.

There are some formatting choices like no spaces in between paragraphs or super long run-on sentences with 10 commas and nor periods or long blocks of text that will also make me click out of a fic.

#ask game

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rileyslibrary · 2 years ago

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M’AM. M’AM,

How do you write Ghost so amazingly? How can you capture that science of his, that scent, that aura— Im very intrigued!

Please teach me your ways!

How would you describe Simon? Which taste, which color, which smell, which time of the day, and, if an scenery, which?

Do you feel you know any fictional character besides him, that inspired you to write him the way you do?

Or, which is your method that works so well?

Im just mesmerized by the way you do it, and oh! I need to learn and understand if I see something this good!

Hey, anon? What is that orange comma doing in your ask?

Anyway. What I do is pretty simple, to be honest: I eat, digest, and poop.

Hear me out.

I eat the source material both for the OG Ghost plus the comics and the reboot. I don’t write based on them, but I use them to study his character. Most of the time, I read the Wiki pages, watch some cutscenes or let the entire campaign play in the background to “cleanse my palate”.

I digest them with whatever feelings, imagines, or scenarios I have in mind or requests that might inspire me. If I can’t relate to a request or a scenario and can’t picture Ghost in it, I won’t do it.

And then, though it might sound vile and off-putting, I poop the stories, meaning I use whatever build-up emotion or inspiration I have in mind and put it into something tangible.

As for another fictional character that could have inspired me to write him, the answer is no. I feel it’s a betrayal towards the reader and a great injustice for the character to do such a thing. If, for whatever reason, I see that I drift away from Ghost’s personality, I stop writing, sleep on it and possibly revisit it the next day. Or I go through the wiki and cutscenes again. Though the wiki isn’t official, it helps by relating to the character faster than watching/playing the games. As in “ah, I remember this happened, he must have felt like this” or justify a reaction based on the evidence seen in front of me.

And I know what you might say. “If you were so stuck on the source material, what the fuck is Ghost doing searching for a missing cat or attending a career fair at a school?” The key here is imagination. How would a character like Ghost approach such a scenario if he had no choice but to do that? Fiction allows you to bend some rules and reach beyond the source material to ask the “what if” question. You can play with canon, fool around with it, poke it with a stick, as long as you know what happened in canon. And, don’t think you can fool the readers. They can tell if you abuse that freedom, and they end up with a character that doesn’t feel like him.

So there you go; that’s the gist of it. I think that’s the first time I wrote about how I do things, and I don’t know if that’s exactly what you were asking me for, but I hope I helped!

#writing #the librarian answers

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justmeinatree · 1 year ago

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i love talking about my writing so i do not mind all the questions 😂 i've been part of too many fandoms to name here but some of the ones i was the most involved in include Supernatural (still love the show, just don't engage with the fandom much anymore), the MCU (stopped watching the movies after Endgame, went to see Eternals because Harry was in the post credits scene and then fell asleep halfway through and missed him), Star Wars (was more into this when i was younger, these days the only Star Wars media i really care for is Rogue One and nobody else seemed to like that movie lol), Star Trek (mostly TOS), Doctor Who (same thing as Supernatural, still love it just not in the fandom anymore, and the 12th Doctor is my favorite <3), Community (still love the show, probably going to be getting back into the fandom when the movie drops), Les Miserables (i've read the book, seen the Hugh Jackman movie too many times to count, and saw a performance of it a few years back! still love the musical but the fandom feels like it's mostly dead now), Harry Potter (for obvious reasons, I have distanced myself from this one as much as possible but I was a Ravenclaw if anyone was wondering), the Throne of Glass books by Sarah J Maas (actually planning to reread this over the summer! may get back into the fandom, we'll see) and I've been active in the fandom for just about every mainstream horror franchise (and plenty of the more obscure ones too lol). I could probably spend hours creating a comprehensive list of fandoms but i think this is enough for now, unless you're just dying to know more 😂 i started writing in first grade, so around 6 years old. i've known i want to be a writer almost my entire life. i think the first bit of fanfic i ever wrote was for Harry Potter actually, but i don't remember anything about it. and i don't actually know what got me into reading fanfic...i just kind of always remember it being my go-to form of entertainment when i was bored. i am SO sorry for putting a whole novel in your askbox...apparently we're both in very chatty moods today lol

dialogue is the hardest thing for me to write because i always have to rewrite the conversation ten times before i feel like it sounds the way two people would actually speak. i'm much better at giving overly flowery descriptions of the space, and of character's appearances, emotions, etc. i tend to try and limit dialogue as much as i can when possible. my other writing crutch is semi-colons...i simply cannot go a paragraph without including one.

now the pressure is on to keep the fic good for the two of you 😂 i think this is the first time i've been told that two of my readers were talking about my fic beyond the comments section.

i think she's 3 years old? but i always forget. i'll have to ask my mom next time i call her, she's the one that keeps track 😂

-🤘

wow, i cannot comment on any of the fandoms 🫣 don’t rip me apart or anything but i’ve literally never watched a single movie or episode related to any of them 😅 to be fair though, i rewatch the same like 10 tv shows on repeat and i’m not much one for movies 😬 but still that’s so impressive ! HOW did you find so many things that you enjoyed enough to join a fandom ? honestly love all of that for you, and apparently i need to broaden my horizons 😅

that’s crazy how it’s so opposite for us ! conversation is so easy for me to imagine. i wouldn’t even know how to avoid it 😅 semi colons !! never use those bad boys but i’m told i use too many commas. love me a good comma 😂

SHE’S SO CUTE !! i’ve seen the photos you sent and omggg she’s seriously adorable. i don’t know what i was picturing but honestly she’s surpassed the image ! such a fkn cutie 😍😍

#asks #🤘anon

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duckprintspress · 4 years ago

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How to Edit an Over-Length Story Down to a Specific Word Count

One of the most wonderful things about writing as a hobby is that you never have to worry about the length of your story. You can be as self-indulgent as you want, make your prose the royalist of purples, include every single side story and extra thought that strikes your fancy. It’s your story, with no limits, and you can proceed with it as you wish.

When transitioning from casual writing to a more professional writing milieu, this changes. If you want to publish, odds are, you’ll need to write to a word count. If a flash fiction serial says, “1,000 words or less,” your story can’t be 1,025 and still qualify. If a website says, “we accept novellas ranging from 20,000 to 40,000 words,” your story will need to fall into that window. Even when you consider novel-length works, stories are expected to be a certain word count to fit neatly into specific genres - romance is usually around 80,000 words, young adult usually 50,000 to 80,000, debut novels usually have to be 100,000 words or less regardless of genre, etc. If you self-publish or work with a small press, you may be able to get away with breaking these “rules,” but it’s still worthwhile to learn to read your own writing critically with length in mind and learn to recognize what you do and do not need to make your story work - and then, if length isn’t an issue in your publishing setting, you can always decide after figuring out what’s non-essential to just keep everything anyway.

If you’re writing for fun? You literally never have to worry about your word count (well, except for sometimes in specific challenges that have minimum and/or maximum word counts), and as such, this post is probably not for you.

But, if you’re used to writing in the “throw in everything and the kitchen sink” way that’s common in fandom fanfiction circles, and you’re trying to transition only to be suddenly confronted with the reality that you’ve written 6,000 words for a short story project with a maximum word count of 5,000...well, we at Duck Prints Press have been there, we are in fact there right now, as we finish our stories for our upcoming anthology Add Magic to Taste and many of us wrote first drafts that were well over the maximum word count.

So, based on our experiences, here are our suggestions on approaches to help your story shorter...without losing the story you wanted to tell!

Cut weasel words (we wrote a whole post to help you learn how to do that!) such as unnecessary adverbs and adjectives, the “was ~ing” sentence structure, redundant time words such as “a moment later,” and many others.

When reviewing dialog, keep an eye out for “uh,” “er,” “I mean,” “well,” and other casual extra words. A small amount of that kind of language usage can make dialog more realistic, but a little goes a long way, and often a fair number of words can be removed by cutting these words, without negatively impacting your story at all.

Active voice almost always uses fewer words than passive voice, so try to use active voice more (but don’t forget that passive voice is important for varying up your sentence structures and keeping your story interesting, so don’t only write in active voice!).

Look for places where you can replace phrases with single words that mean the same thing. You can often save a lot of words by switching out phrases like “come back” for “return” and seeking out other places where one word can do the work of many.

Cut sentences that add atmosphere but don't forward the plot or grow your characters. (Obviously, use your judgement. Don't cut ALL the flavor, but start by going - I’ve got two sentences that are mostly flavor text - which adds more? And then delete the other, or combine them into one shorter sentence.)

Remove superfluous dialog tags. If it’s clear who’s talking, especially if it’s a conversation between only two people, you can cut all the he saids, she saids.

Look for places where you've written repetitively - at the most basic level, “ ‘hahaha,’ he laughed,” is an example, but repetition is often more subtle, like instances where you give information in once sentence, and then rephrase part or all of that sentence in the next one - it’s better to poke at the two sentences until you think of an effective, and more concise, way to make them into only one sentence. This also goes for scenes - if you’ve got two scenes that tend towards accomplishing the same plot-related goal, consider combining them into one scene.

Have a reason for every sentence, and even every sentence clause (as in, every comma insertion, every part of the sentence, every em dashed inclusion, that kind of thing). Ask yourself - what function does this serve? Have I met that function somewhere else? If it serves no function, or if it’s duplicative, consider cutting it. Or, the answer may be “none,” and you may choose to save it anyway - because it adds flavor, or is very in character for your PoV person, or any of a number of reasons. But if you’re saving it, make sure you’ve done so intentionally. It's important to be aware of what you're trying to do with your words, or else how can you recognize what to cut, and what not to cut?

Likewise, have a reason for every scene. They should all move the story along - whatever the story is, it doesn’t have to be “the end of the world,” your story can be simple and straightforward and sequential...but if you’re working to a word count, your scenes should still forward the story toward that end point. If the scene doesn’t contribute...you may not need them, or you may be able to fold it in with another scene, as suggested in item 6.

Review the worldbuilding you’ve included, and consider what you’re trying to accomplish with your story. A bit of worldbuilding outside of the bare essentials makes a story feel fleshed out, but again, a little can go a long way. If you’ve got lots of “fun” worldbuilding bits that don’t actually forward your plot and aren’t relevant to your characters, cut them. You can always put them as extras in your blog later, but they’ll just make your story clunky if you have a lot of them.

Beware of info-dumps. Often finding a more natural way to integrate that information - showing instead of telling in bits throughout the story - can help reduce word count.

Alternatively - if you over-show, and never tell, this will vastly increase your word count, so consider if there are any places in your story where you can gloss over the details in favor of a shorter more “tell-y” description. You don’t need to go into a minute description of every smile and laugh - sometimes it’s fine to just say, “she was happy” or “she frowned” without going into a long description of their reaction that makes the reader infer that they were happy. (Anyone who unconditionally says “show, don’t tell,” is giving you bad writing advice. It’s much more important to learn to recognize when showing is more appropriate, and when telling is more appropriate, because no story will function as a cohesive whole if it’s all one or all the other.)

If you’ve got long paragraphs, they’re often prime places to look for entire sentences to cut. Read them critically and consider what’s actually helping your story instead of just adding word count chonk.

Try reading some or all of the dialog out loud; if it gets boring, repetitive, or unnecessary, end your scene wherever you start to lose interest, and cut the dialog that came after. If necessary, add a sentence or two of description at the end to make sure the transition is abrupt, but honestly, you often won’t even need to do so - scenes that end at the final punchy point in a discussion often work very well.

Create a specific goal for a scene or chapter. Maybe it’s revealing a specific piece of information, or having a character discover a specific thing, or having a specific unexpected event occur, but, whatever it is, make sure you can say, “this scene/chapter is supposed to accomplish this.” Once you know what you’re trying to do, check if the scene met that goal, make any necessary changes to ensure it does, and cut things that don’t help the scene meet that goal.

Building on the previous one, you can do the same thing, but for your entire story. Starting from the beginning, re-outline the story scene-by-scene and/or chapter-by-chapter, picking out what the main “beats” and most important themes are, and then re-read your draft and make sure you’re hitting those clearly. Consider cutting out the pieces of your story that don’t contribute to those, and definitely cut the pieces that distract from those key moments (unless, of course, the distraction is the point.)

Re-read a section you think could be cut and see if any sentences snag your attention. Poke at that bit until you figure out why - often, it’s because the sentence is unnecessary, poorly worded, unclear, or otherwise superfluous. You can often rewrite the sentence to be clearer, or cut the sentence completely without negatively impacting your work.

Be prepared to cut your darlings; even if you love a sentence or dialog exchange or paragraph, if you are working to a strict word count and it doesn't add anything, it may have to go, and that's okay...even though yes, it will hurt, always, no matter how experienced a writer you are. (Tip? Save your original draft, and/or make a new word doc where you safely tuck your darlings in for the future. Second tip? If you really, really love it...find a way to save it, but understand that to do so, you’ll have to cut something else. It’s often wise to pick one or two favorites and sacrifice the rest to save the best ones. We are not saying “always cut your darlings.” That is terrible writing advice. Don’t always cut your darlings. Writing, and reading your own writing, should bring you joy, even when you’re doing it professionally.)

If you��re having trouble recognizing what in your own work CAN be cut, try implementing the above strategies in different places - cut things, and then re-read, and see how it works, and if it works at all. Sometimes, you’ll realize...you didn’t need any of what you cut. Other times, you’ll realize...it no longer feels like the story you were trying to tell. Fiddle with it until you figure out what you need for it to still feel like your story, and practice that kind of cutting until you get better at recognizing what can and can’t go without having to do as much tweaking.

Lastly...along the lines of the previous...understand that sometimes, cutting your story down to a certain word count will just be impossible. Some stories simply can’t be made very short, and others simply can’t be told at length. If you’re really struggling, it’s important to consider that your story just...isn’t going to work at that word count. And that’s okay. Go back to the drawing board, and try again - you’ll also get better at learning what stories you can tell, in your style, using your own writing voice, at different word counts. It’s not something you’ll just know how to do - that kind of estimating is a skill, just like all other writing abilities.

As with all our writing advice - there’s no one way to tackle cutting stories for length, and also, which of these strategies is most appropriate will depend on what kind of story you’re writing, how much over-length it is, what your target market is, your characters, and your personal writing style. Try different ones, and see which work for you - the most important aspect is to learn to read your own writing critically enough that you are able to recognize what you can cut, and then from that standpoint, use your expertise to decide what you should cut, which is definitely not always the same thing. Lots of details can be cut - but a story with all of the flavor and individuality removed should never be your goal.

Contributions to this post were made by @unforth, @jhoomwrites, @alecjmarsh, @shealynn88, @foxymoley, @willablythe, and @owlishintergalactic, and their input has been used with their knowledge and explicit permission. Thanks, everyone, for helping us consider different ways to shorten stories!

#writing advice #duck prints press #original content

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sanversandfriends · 2 years ago

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From high stakes Survivor contests to White Martian imposters, @brinshannara has been weaving epic Sanvers tales since we first fell in love with Alex and Maggie on our screens. Today she's here to talk about the importance of having a good beta reader, as well as finding the equilibrium between self-doubt and trusting your voice.

Tell us a little about yourself. How did you get started writing fic? Have you written for other fandoms? What are your favorite tropes?

I first started writing fic when I was but a wee lass of 17 or so. I was, in a word, awful. I was absolutely obsessed with Captain Picard and Dr. Crusher (and still am -- they are my first OTP). I've dabbled in the Buffy fandom (Willow/Tara, obviously), the BAM fandom (Bianca and Maggie from All My Children), the Otalia fandom (Olivia and Natalia from Guiding Light), but nothing ever quite struck me the way Sanvers did, so it is BY FAR my most prolific fandom. Favourite tropes really have to do with panicked baby gays or people who develop Those Feelings for their friends. Also, I adore "There Was Only One Bed" and "Fake Dating".

What were your inspirations for this particular story? What was it about this/these ships that grabbed you?

This story is a sequel I always wanted to write and ran out of time to do -- and I'm still struggling with it. I love the concept. I know what happens. It's just so rough to write it all out! Can't I just THINK about it and have it write itself??? But yeah, I love Survivor, I love Sanvers, so the first story kind of wrote itself. This one is not even slightly cooperating. What was it about this ship? I mean, it's SANVERS. Need I really say more? haha

Has the time spent away from your story changed your outlook or approach to any of the storylines or themes? Have you had any new inspirations or breakthroughs/revelations in the meantime?

Somewhat, in that I've watched a fair amount of Survivor since I first stopped writing this story and so that's always helpful, to see how others play the game, what challenges I can draw on, etc. I've also had a chance to review my spreadsheets for things and made a couple of edits that I'm happy with. Theoretically, that should allow me to write more due to those edits.

Any advice for new or aspiring fic writers?

- Keep working at it. If it's your first time writing in a long while, like since high school or college, chances are it'll be rough. That's okay. First, all things can be edited and second, nothing is set in stone.

- Find a kind beta reader who will ask you what you want them to focus on: plot? character development? grammar and spelling? All of the above? And if you feel strongly about a suggested change, ask yourself why you feel strongly: is it because someone is challenging you on something you wrote or is it because you really feel you have a case? It can be really helpful to discuss things with others, particularly if you feel strongly about them.

- Try to emulate (not copy!!! Emulate!) styles that you like. Watch where paragraph breaks are used. Understand how to use commas and double quotes. Try to understand why your favourite authors do X, Y or Z. Heck, ask them if you like! Just be polite. :)

If you were going to promote this fic with a single line, what would it be?

Sanvers: Blood vs. Water: Will Margarita Sawyer-Danvers beat her wife, Alex, at Survivor again or will Alex even the score this time around?

If you’ve already posted some of your work, please provide a link.

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pastafossa · 4 years ago

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Can I ask what you used to learn & practice to write the way you do because a) I'd also like to improve my writing and b) because you are one of the most talented & extraordinary writer I've EVER come across on A03

Thank you so, so much, I'm honored! 😭 I can, absolutely!

So a big thing I used to learn writing is, I read a ton (had way more time for it a few years ago, but that's where a lot of the foundation was). And one of my English professors once told me, 'if you want to write a novel or story, go back and read your favorite books, but read them as a writer and not just as a reader'. And once I did, I understood what she meant. I'd read back over these books I loved, only now I was looking for why I loved them so much (and I still do this some when reading). If something hit me emotionally hard, why? Was it the body language? Their emphasis on description? If they set up an elaborate, 'SURPRISE!', how was it done? How did they lay clues? How did the author write this out? It helps a ton to look at the structural framework of something you love, and so one of the things you can easily use, that I used, is literally just your favorite books. My favorite series is Dresden Files, for example, and that's where I learned a lot about how one can write internal dialogue, action scenes, and laying clues. I also try to read books by popular authors (that I enjoy, don't get me wrong) so I can look at their techniques and hunt down new things to try. <3

Second, I'm going to rec one of my favorite books that helped me with learning to write emotions (which anyone who's read TRT knows I focus on fairly regularly). I literally always write with this nearby: The Emotion Thesaurus. The 1st edition I have has 75 emotions, and each has a connected list of physical body language signals, internal sensations, mental responses, cues of acute or long-term feeling of that emotion, and cues of suppression of that emotion. The 2nd edition now has 130 emotions (haven't had a chance to look through that one yet). That book helped teach me about linking emotion to sensory descriptions - physical, mental, internal, and then with time or suppression.

Third: if anywhere near you or online has a free class on creative writing and you have the time, I'd give it a shot! I took a fair amount of English classes in college, admittedly, but even once I was done, I kept an eye out and I've managed to get into some free or cheap classes. Some are pretty terrible, a lot are just middle of the road, and then every once in a while you get an amazing one where you hear hysterical gems like, "your job as an author is to cause pain. Embrace it! You're a sadist now," and then you learn how to torment characters with unique acts of suffering. So there's always something to learn, even in the terrible classes (it's sometimes just, 'don't do this one thing').

Writers Groups! I have had some very kind and very honest writers groups over the years that have helped me learn where my weaknesses were as a writer. One of my biggest issues used to be overdescription of everything (I wish I was joking, RIP to my early readers), and I didn't even realize it was a problem until I joined a writers group and they pointed out that things were a bit unnecessarily wordy.

Grammarly is something I use for every chapter. I generally edit my chapter, paste it into Grammarly, and then it hits me with a newspaper points out politely where I can take out some unnecessary commas. Grammarly reminds me not to get cocky. Grammarly humbles us all.

Those have been my biggest resources on learning over the years: published books I loved, books like The Emotion Thesaurus, taking writing classes whenever I could, writers groups, and Grammarly. I try to consider myself a constant student, always learning! After that, it's just practice-practice-practice. Pastafossa is, I think my third pseudonym over ohgodtoomanyyears of writing fanfic and original stories on and off. In the beginning, my fanfiction was terrible (seriously, I found some the other day on an old hard drive and, good god 😂). I've tried my hand at one-shots, parody (I wrote a bad smut fic for Dragon Age a while back and LORD that was wild), humor, prompt challenges. Try everything! Some of it will fail miserably, but much like the terrible writing classes, at least you learn something, and then you use that for next time. ❤️

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

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a kindness.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it is loving megan kane hours!! i’ve been working on this one for a while and i am so excited to share it with you!! we have ajf!pleasure is my business at last! as always, tell me what you think!! i adore your feedback. also, if you’re thinking ‘what the hell, tali! why am i missing from the tag list?????’ it’s because i redid it! the link to the form is below.

words: 4.8k warnings: language, canon-typical death, canon-typical discussion of sex work

summary: “i believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.” ― steve martin. au!february 2009

a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You rap twice on the office door before pushing it open with your fingertips, peering inside while ready to retreat at a moment’s notice.

There’s no need. Aaron’s alone.

“You’re here early,” he says, his eyes still on his paperwork.

You snort. “So are you.”

He looks at you over his nose. “Can I help you with something?”

Sitting down opposite him at his desk, you prop your chin on your hands and grin at him. “You stole my line.”

“Get out of my office.”

Your smile stays plastered on your face as you stand and cross the room, closing the door behind you. On your way out, you catch the ghost of his smile.

+++

You watch Hotch leave the bullpen, his go-bag slung over his shoulder.

“Where you headed?” You ask, looking up. You’re still the only one in the bullpen, taking a few consults off your teammates’ hands by typing up quick briefs they can review without going through every single comma in the file.

He sighs. “Dallas.”

Yikes.

“By yourself?”

He sighs. “Standby - not sure what’s going on yet. Can you -” He gestures to the hallway behind you.

You nod and stand. “Yeah. Fly safe.”

After you watch him leave, you turn and make a beeline for JJ’s office. She’s here early, too - pushing away the separation anxiety by diving into work.

“Jayje?”

She looks away from her computer, looking exhausted. “Yeah?”

“Hotch just left for Dallas - we might have a case there, but it didn’t sound like something that would come across your desk.”

She squints. “Why d’you say that?”

“He had that look on his face like he was going into a room full of lawyers.”

+++

You lean forward, jamming yourself into the circle around the table with the rest of your team. Hotch, on the other end of the line, sounds oddly well-rested.

Spencer, as usual, gives you the history and textbook briefing before you get to the actual case. “Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies.”

“Because there’s no sexual gratification when a woman kills,” Derek adds.

Looks like we’re all getting in on the pre-brief today.

“Exactly. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra.”

That makes you laugh a little. “So, basically, women are more efficient at killing?”

Spencer shrugs. “Historically, they’ve had body counts in the hundreds.”

Hotch, of course, is the one to get you all back on track. “So, assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?”

Derek, of course, is the first to follow. “Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder…”

The team bounces for a moment, covering previous cases of serial killers with a history of sex work. Emily brings up Allison Wuornos, but Aaron shuts it down. He thinks this killer is organized, not so much driven by trauma or need but the mission itself.

Spencer looks at the medical examiner’s reports again, comparing notes between the victims. “She’s using tetra-methylene-disulfotetramine.”

You don’t look up from the same report. “Bless you.”

Emily snorts.

Spencer continues, unperturbed. “It’s a popular rat poison in China - easily soluble in alcohol.”

“Poison is the perfect M.O.,” Dave notes. “Quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they’re getting lucky.” He turns back toward the phone. “Does that mean something to you?”

“Well, at $10,000 a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex.”

Fair point.

“She has a history with them. They see her repeatedly.”

You look over at Dave, trying to find the thread that connects Aaron’s thought to his.

Before you can really get to it yourself, Aaron spells it out for you. “She didn't decide to kill them in the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them.”

There we go.

“So she's not just organized,” you add. “She's also methodical. Could she be parsing out which clients are worth killing and which aren’t?”

“Maybe the victims all share the same fetish?” Emily offers.

Derek shrugs, his eyebrows raised in thoughtful agreement. “Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible. Careful about their image. I mean, if they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it.”

“And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out.”

There’s the exhaustion I’m used to from Hotch.

He sounds weird without it.

“Actually,” JJ says, “I had some luck there. Hoyt Ashford's wife isn't too happy with how he died. But because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement.”

JJ pulls the statement from her file and reads aloud: “Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.” She puts it down again. “They're already trying to close ranks.”

Spencer frowns. “Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“The press release from the first victim.” He recalls, not needing the paper itself. “‘According to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home.’”

Hotch begins to make assignments, directing Emily and Derek to the wife of the second victim. JJ’s tasked with the lawyers and you’re tasked with setup at the precinct with Spencer and Dave. When he’s done, you pick your phone up from the table, taking him off speaker.

“What are you gonna do?” You ask.

Hotch snorts. “I’m gonna see which of the lawyers calls us back and in the meantime, see what I can get out of anyone else.”

“Good luck.”

+++

You’re up in your hotel room, getting a little bit settled and unpacked when you get a call to your cell.

“Hey, Hotch.”

There’s a sigh. “We got another body.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

+++

You hop out of the car, following Aaron through the service entrance and up the back hallways to the lobby. Between your travel from your room and Aaron’s wrap-up in his, Derek and Dave beat you to the scene.

Hotch is wearing that coat - your favorite, the one he’s apparently had for years - with the red lining and the soft wool exterior. It so rarely sees the field anymore you were afraid he’d done away with it, but every time you remember it exists and worry about its whereabouts, he brings it out again.

Derek hands you a notebook when you reach him. You settle near Dave for the rest of the info. He, of course, delivers.

“Victim was Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here.”

You frown. “Poisoned? Like the others?”

“And staged,” Derek says. “She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found.”

“The lipstick's new,” you muse, circling the body in the elevator. “Done postmortem, it looks like.” You find Derek’s eyes with a little frown. “Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable.”

He hums. “Now she wants to be noticed.”

There’s some kind of scuffle at the police line - another man in a suit who thinks he’s more important than God.

Hopefully he’s looking for Hotch.

“Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?”

Ugh. Good.

You step back and point at Aaron, getting out of his way as he shoves past the crime scene techs.

Aaron turns. “I'm Hotchner.”

“Larry Bartlett.” The man holds out his hand, but Aaron doesn’t take it. He retracts his hand with an unperturbed tilt of his head. “I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries.

Hotch, as usual, has no time for his bullshit. “This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett.”

My lawyer could kick your lawyer’s ass.

That’s a good bumper sticker.

You shake off your thought and return to the victim, directing one of the younger crime scene techs. After a moment, you return to Derek’s side.

“Yes. I spoke to Ellen Daniels.” This clown still sounds far too confident for his own good. “She said you're a very... reasonable man.”

“Escort him out, please.”

You stifle a laugh.

“No, wait. Please.” The lawyer - Mr. Bartlett - shrugs off the security team and chases after Hotch on his way to your side.

Aaron stops, but looks inconvenienced in the extreme.

“The press is outside and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?”

“We're not about to lie for you.” Derek’s even less amused than Aaron, if that’s even possible.

Aaron squints at the other lawyer, and you find it nearly impossible to tear your gaze from the little pinch at the corners of his brown eyes.

You can only imagine him behind a prosecutor’s bench, laying into witnesses with the same deadpan amusement - like a bored cat with a half-dead mouse. Hoping to back him up a little bit, you get a little closer, looking skeptically at the lawyer from over Aaron’s shoulder.

“You don't have to lie,” Mr. Bartlett insists, his eyes flickering to you. “Just don't comment.”

“Excuse us.” He takes you by the shoulder and leads the three of you into a huddle.

“Is there any reason to go public yet?” Aaron asks.

Dave wavers. “Validating her is exactly what she wants.”

“If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake,” Derek says.

You raise your eyebrows, looking over your shoulder for a moment. “He doesn't need to know that.”

Hotch’s mouth twitches, and you know it’s almost a smile. He turns over his shoulder, back in game mode as he approaches Bartlett again. “We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails, everything.”

+++

“Eighteen cars, six houses, and three boats.” Spencer rattles off the numbers with only the barest hint of shock in his voice.

Your brow pinches and you look up. “Can you even boat in Dallas?”

“You know, when you're talking about that much money, ten grand for a call girl is like deciding where to go for dinner.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Em,” you laugh.

She rolls her eyes, still pinning photos to the board. “Yeah, right. My mom had a pretty cushy gig with her postings, but we were never that well-off. But...” She looks over her shoulder, “I’m sure Rossi would know a little something about that.”

Before you can all get too out of control, Hotch reaches over you to connect to Garcia on the speakerphone. “Are you there, Garcia?”

“Affirmative.”

JJ flags him down. “I have half a million over here for something called the Bat Cave...”

It really takes everything in you not to laugh.

“...and here's a picture of him as fetish Batman. That is… wrong.”

Emily pulls a face.

“Is there anything this guy didn't like to spend money on?” Spencer asks.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “His ex-wives. Fielding was married four times. He didn't have prenups for the first two, but he did everything he could to cut them off anyway.”

You lean forward, trying to see the paper in his hands. “Are there children involved?”

“Yes, with three of the wives.” He hands it over to you and looks at Emily. “Hoyt Ashford was married a few times, too, wasn't he?”

She nods in the affirmative.

“You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans, this amount of money is sick.”

Tell me about it, Pen.

Emily sounds resigned. “What did you find?”

Garcia outlines a series of bitter court battles about child support, alimony, custody, etc. “And even when the court ruled in the wife’s favor - which was almost always - these three charmers just, you know, decided not to pay.”

Hotch asks for a cross-checked list of high-profile Dallas CEOs holding out on their ex-wives, and you figure it’s not a short one.

“One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, comin' at ya. Penelope out.”

The line goes dead and Aaron turns off the speaker.

“So,” Aaron leans heavily on the table. “Why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?”

Spencer obliges. “For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him.”

“They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold.” JJ shakes her head and looks over at Hotch, seeking an answer.

“Narcissistic, self-absorbed, a pathological avoidance of paternal responsibilities.”

There’s an odd kind of look that passes over Aaron’s face as he speaks, and you pin it for later. You can already tell he’s falling into a headspace that’s fraught with comparison and self-loathing.

They bounce around for a moment while you keep your eyes on Aaron.

“Well,” JJ brings you back. “Should I assemble the police for a profile?”

Your mouth twists. “I just don't think it's gonna help.”

“She lives in a completely different world than they do,” Aaron adds.

“And,” Emily pipes up, “the CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it.”

JJ snorts. “Like I couldn't even get past the team of lawyers protecting them.”

“What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers?” Aaron stands straight, his hands resting on his hips. “They've cleaned up after her, even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman.”

“Why would they go for that?” You ask.

“Because she's putting them at risk, too.”

Your phone rings and you answer as you always do, chirping your last name into the receiver without really looking too closely at the caller ID.

“Hey, it’s me.”

You nod once to your team as you step out of earshot. “Hey, Haley.”

“I can’t get a hold of Aaron. Is everything alright?” She’s beyond surprise or concern at this point. You’re sure you could tell her Aaron’s been shot in the head and she’d probably just hum at you.

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. “Things are crazy and there are lawyers all wrapped up in this. Are you alright?”

“Jack’s got a fever - I just wanted to let Aaron know I’m taking him in to get checked out. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let him know. Give Jack a big kiss from me and I’ll do my best to get us all home quickly and in one piece.”

She laughs a little into the phone. “Thanks. Will do. Talk soon.”

You hang up and return to the table, shooting Hotch a significant look. He nods and pulls you aside.

“What’s up?”

“Jack has a fever - Haley just wanted me to let you know she’s taking him to the pediatrician to get him all checked out, just in case. I told her we’d all do our best to get home soon.”

Aaron sighs and flips his phone in his hand. “I’ll call her now…”

“No need. She knows this is a tough one and you’re getting your money’s worth out of your JD this week.”

When he starts to walk away, you call his name again. He turns.

“You know - um.” You wet your lips and swallow. “You’re not like these guys. You know that, right? You’re a great dad.”

His face lifts in surprise for a fraction of a second before he recovers.

“Thank you,” He says. “Really.”

You offer him a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

+++

Hotch stops you all before you enter the conference room, full to the brim with suits and pantsuits. “Let me lead on this one. I’ve handled corporate lawyers like this before and they can smell blood.” He snorts. “This time, it’s their own.”

You and Derek raise your hands in simultaneous and identical postures of surrender.

“Have at it,” you say, falling into line behind Aaron. “Corporate lawyers scare the fuck out of me.”

+++

“Hey, Prentiss. Got a whip?” Derek holds the leather outfit to Emily’s shoulders and she laughs.

“Yeah, right.”

You fondly roll your eyes at them and continue following off Aaron’s right shoulder. The two of you reach the bookshelf - an impressive glass case that runs from the floor to the ceiling.

Aaron’s gloved finger opens the case and runs over some of the spines. “Antique first editions on the bookshelves.”

Rossi quips something about porn in the DVD player while Spencer espouses about the merits of a disposable, adaptable lifestyle in this line of work.

“Well, these aren't just for show,” Aaron says. “The spines are cracked. Somebody's read these.”

You peer over his shoulder. “Who reads Voltaire in French?”

“Someone with good taste. Probably well-educated…”

You pick up where he trails off. “We profiled that she learned to fake privilege. What if she's not faking it?”

“You're saying maybe she came from money the whole time?”

You shrug. “It’s a possibility, at least.”

Just then, the apartment phone rings.

“Prentiss should answer,” Aaron says. “If it's a customer, she'll get more information out of them.”

You hum, hedging your bets a little. ‘Unless she's calling in for her messages.”

Too late. Derek’s already on the phone with Penelope. “Yeah, Baby Girl, we're getting a call to this line. Can you work some magic?”

“I don't have a trap-and-trace in place yet. Give me a few. I'm gonna stay on the line.”

Aaron gives her the go-ahead. “Prentiss, get ready to vamp.”

The voicemail picks it up before Emily can so much as reach for the phone.

“Hi, it's me. You know what to do.” Beep.

“...Aaron.”

You turn your head so fast you throw your neck out. You raise a hand to the crick and work it with your fingers. Aaron’s too busy frowning at the phone to notice.

“I know you're up there. Pick up… Aaron Hotchner... Hello?” She drags out her words, almost flirting with everyone listening.

With a sigh, Aaron pushes past the rest of you, silently counts to three, and picks up the phone while Emily clicks the speakerphone button.

“I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, But I don't know yours. Can we start there?”

Nice start.

The game has begun.

“I thought I could trust you, Aaron.”

What?

The pinch between his brows deepens. “Who says you can't?”

“I want to. I even looked you up online. Is that strange?”

Yes.

“No.” Aaron wets his lips and begins to pace, the gears whirring in his head. “It's flattering to be noticed by a woman like you.”

The woman continues as if he hasn’t said anything at all. “And I thought you were so... upstanding. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings. I found it posted on YouTube...”

She has good taste. That’s an excellent presentation.

“...And for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world.”

“But I've disappointed you, haven't I?” He asks. “Just like all the other men in your life Who've walked out on their families, Who deserve to be punished.”

“Did you walk out on your family?”

His eyes flicker to you and you nod, nearly imperceptibly, reminding him he’s not alone. “No. My wife left me.”

“Do you have kids?”

“I have a son.”

A sweet, thoughtful, perfect son.

You smile a little, thinking of Jack, but it disappears when you remember that he’s home sick with Haley, probably having a miserable time.

“How often do you see him?” She asks.

“I try to see him every week.”

“Do you see him every week?” The question is mocking, smothered in dark amusement that could almost be called sarcasm save for its bitterness.

“No,” Aaron’s eyes fall to the floor. “No, I don't get there as often as I want.”

“I believe you.” Her response is softer, and you think she might make a decent profiler if she wasn’t on the other side.

She is a profiler.

In some ways, you suppose it’s true. She has to read and respond to everything her clients do, say, how they behave. It makes her good at her job and you good at yours.

Same skillset, very different application.

“But don't compare yourself to the men I see,” she continues. “You are nothing like them. You're just another whore.”

Never in my life did I ever think I’d hear someone call Aaron Hotchner a whore. Unironically.

That catches everyone’s attention, even Derek’s, still on hold with Penelope.

“How am I a whore?” He asks.

“You come when called. You do their bidding. In hotels you take the side elevator to avoid crowds, while the men who pay your salary walk across the ivory marble foyer into their cars.”

Derek, behind you, presses. “Garcia.”

You can hear her, faintly. “I'm in on the landline. Triangulating the cell. Give me like sixty seconds.”

You gesture to Aaron when he looks. Keep going.

He nods. “But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?”

She sighs, sounding a little impatient for the first time. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you want to show the world all these bad men and my investigation's just getting in your way.”

“No, Aaron.” You almost startle, her tone escalating to a deeply frustrated shout. “You're not doing your job! You don't want to arrest me, you don't want me in custody because you're in their pocket.”

She’s crying now, actively. “You just want me to disappear, just like they do.”

“Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you.”

Now that’s a tone you recognize - you’ve heard it when he talks to Haley. Most recently, when he couldn’t make it to some appointment or another. It’s one that’s disarming in the extreme, soft, but not condescending.

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Am I right?”

Just like Haley always does, the woman loses steam, sniffling once before answering. “Yeah.”

“Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.”

“If we met under different circumstances... I could believe that. I won't let you cover this up.”

A gunshot rings through the line and you flinch, turning to Derek just as the line goes dead. You know Penelope will have something for you soon.

She never fails, directing you to an address only moments after the elevator doors close in front of the team.

+++

Once you found Megan Kane, it was easy enough to find her father.

You could empathize with her mission well enough after meeting him. He’s shrouded by his lawyers - detached and seemingly indifferent to anything Aaron had to say.

Aaron starts the car and you settle back into the seat. “So, the wall of lawyers strikes again.”

A shadow of a smile ghosts around the creases at the corners of his eyes. “So it seems.”

“What’s next?”

“We tail him - home and office. He’ll meet with her soon enough.”

Your brow furrows. “Not to protect her, right? It doesn’t seem like he cares that much.”

Aaron turns, placing his hand on the back of your seat as he pulls out of the parking spot. You’re momentarily distracted as he turns back, spinning the wheel with the heel of his hand and gunning it out of the garage.

Focus.

“No,” he says. “Think about it.”

It comes to you only seconds later. “To protect himself.”

“There you go.” He turns to you, another little smile threatening. “You’re getting pretty good at this.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been here over a year, Hotch. I’d fucking hope so.”

You’re rewarded with a real smile, and it’s enough.

+++

You take Derek’s six through the hotel, clearing the floors and reporting back to the rest of the team. SWAT is in full deployment, clearing the hard-to-reach areas like the stairways and rooftops, just in case.

Aaron catches up to you, taking the four o’clock position off your left shoulder as Derek breaches the door.

The gun and chilled champagne sit like ironic centerpieces on the entry table, but they hardly use any of your bandwidth as you clear the room, your vision narrowed by the sight of your service weapon.

You hold a hand up when you catch the figure on the balcony. “Hotch.”

He squints, and you move to raise your gun again and make the arrest, but he stops you with a hand over yours. “Easy.”

There’s a question in your eyes.

He, of course, answers it. “She knows it’s over.”

Just then, she places an empty champagne glass on the table where you can see it.

“I’ll call 911,” Derek says, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

You turn to leave with Derek, but catch Aaron’s open hand, subtly signaling you from just under his hip.

Stay here. It says. Stay close.

So, you stay. You lean on the far wall of the hotel room, watching Aaron hold the hand of this dying, hurting woman. They’re speaking softly, and she smiles at him when she drops something into his hand. His eyes are soft, gentle, not even searching. Just warm.

You feel for her.

It’s the best way to go, you think. If there was ever a time you were dying before your time, you’d want Aaron there, holding your hand, telling you he was going to continue the work that killed you, that it was gonna be okay.

“How could your wife have ever left someone like you?” You hear her ask.

As much as you love Haley, the same question often floats through your head, and your heart aches for this woman who’s been able to see Aaron so clearly, even if she’s only seeing him for the first time now.

“You’re the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t let me down.”

You creep forward, further into Aaron’s eyeline, and sit on the edge of the couch. She’s close to her last breath and you can feel it - so can Aaron. His eyes flicker to you for a moment before returning to her.

Megan’s voice is full of tears when she asks, “Will you stay with me?”

You have a feeling it isn’t the first time she’s asked the question and you find yourself hoping Emily will be particularly rough with the handcuffs when she apprehends Mr. Kane. Hopefully he didn’t make it past the checkpoint and is still on-site.

“Yes.” Aaron is solemn, so sincere, so genuine it makes your heart ache.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s doing her a great kindness - one that many would not offer.

It’s because he is good.

A good man.

The tension drains out of her, and she grips tightly to Aaron’s hand as she fights through her final breaths. His hands are gentle, his attention only on her. He looks more like a father in this moment than any other time you’ve known him. She’s safe. She knows she can die in peace.

Once more, you hope you have the opportunity to leave this plane of reality in such safety, when your time comes.

When she’s gone, he places her hand in her lap and takes a moment to brush the hair off of her face, pressing the back of his fingers to her temple as if checking her for fever.

After a minute or so, he turns to you, and you hope the pride and respect coursing through you is evident in your gaze. You pull an evidence bag out of your pocket, but he shakes his head, pocketing the SIM card.

You rise as he gets closer, returning the evidence bag to your pocket. He’s clearly affected, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes.

Opening your arms to him, he wilts into you, allowing you to gather him into your shoulder. His arms are loose around your waist, his fingers wrapped around his opposite wrist as an anchor. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability and you’d hate to make him feel anything less than safe.

You still have a minute or so before they all come stomping through the door to collect Megan’s body.

“I’m sorry, Hotch.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know why this one hurts.”

Your arms tighten around him. “It’s okay. I feel it, too.”

A deep, shaky breath rolls through him.

“She’s right, you know.” You almost regret your words, afraid you’re giving yourself away.

“What?”

“You didn’t let her down. You’re a good man.”

His jaw tightens, and you can feel it against your neck where his head falls into your shoulder.

“Oh, stop. You’ve never let me down.” Your hand reaches up, stroking the back of his head, carding your fingers through the hair. “She died knowing you kept your promise.”

+++

You look up to Aaron’s office when news of the leak breaks, finding his silhouette haunting the window, staring at the television.

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and he turns back to his desk, settling back down to work.

+++

tagging: @aaronhotchnerr @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygrangerwriting @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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ladyhindsight · 3 years ago

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When it’s all over, and you finally begin to see light at the end of the tunnel, the epilogue tries to pull some relationship bullshit even when there is no longer any incest plot to stop it.

This book was supposed to be the end and this part here is the only door open for any continuation.

There’s not talk about whether the others know that Jace died and Raziel brought him back to life on Clary’s wish or whether they don’t know that Jace died and merely believe that Raziel merely healed his founds from the fight with Sebastian. The way this is written gives room to refine the facts to suit the events in the subsequent installments.

Funnily enough, Clare has also forgotten than Jace had a parabatai and it would had some effect on it, but the bond and whether Jace’s death had any effect on it even momentarily remains unmentioned.

→ “The towers of Alicante glimmered in the distance, their former glory restored.”

Don’t you mean AdOpTiVe FaThEr, because in the final chapter the fact that Jace was Valentine’s adoptive son was wedged in there for no seeable reason. Father is a father.

No contradictions here. Just facts.

I think 10-year-old is more a child than just “barely”?

For the hundredth time, Hodge should’ve been able to tell the difference between Jace and Sebastian. It makes absolutely no sense that he didn’t. Kids have faces, you know!

HE. SHOULD. HAVE. BEEN. ABLE. TO. TELL.

Your dumb plot is dumb. Later Clare tries to tell how much Jace resembles Stephen, his birth father, except around the eyes that are shaped like Céline’s. HOW COULD HE NOT KNOW? HODGE KNOWS WHAT BOTH OF THEIR PARENTS LOOK LIKE. KIDS HAVE FACES.

Probably everyone knows. “x knew” is another writing trick that Clare sows around and has for the whole book. Also emphasizing the fact that they are burning her father is unnecessary when Clary had no feelings about Valentine and his fatherhood anyway. Luke is her dad.

→ “They were burning Valentine today in the necropolis just outside the gates.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if Aline didn’t like Clary because there is like five girls in this book and none of them like each other. At least at first

More conversational and less like trying to establish some character would be: “I think she just says whatever comes to her mind.”

Maybe Aline is right about Jace being bored now with Clary because their relationship isn’t “forbidden” anymore and Clary thinks that, yeah, maybe.

AS. IF. How can you go through all this and then think that no, Jace no longer likes me because I am not forbidden to have relationship with. How little does Clary know Jace? Trying to squeeze out the final drops of will-they-won’t-they makes your characters look like idiots.

Case in point. Now Isabelle is dumb also.

There were two absolutely beautiful scenes in this book. The first one was when Clary showed herself to everyone as someone each person loved most, and all Jocelyn saw was Clary. The second on is this.

And it’s so unearned. They just fought and cried about Jace’s feelings and now they are friends?

Yes, that must be it. Total 180, just poof, out of nowhere. Does Jace know Clary at all?

Constantly staring at Jace because his backstory is the weirdest and most convoluted? Or that he’s the last Herondale (that they know of) alive? Or does this just sound a bit too egoistic.

And now Jace decides to question Valentine’s stories. The guy is dead! Maybe you should’ve done that a bit earlier about bigger things than some birthmark. And especially since when right after this Amatis tells him what it is, it’s irrelevant whether Jace believes Valentine or not.

No comma, what is wrong with you?

It wouldn’t be fair to Luke. The Luke who has pined after Jocelyn for 20 years? That Luke? And I honestly forgot what I was meaning to say about that clapping of hands and can’t remember. At this point, I don’t think I care anymore either.

Now this is character development. Clary finally asks permission to wear Amatis’s clothes. 👏👏👏👏👏

Why is a surprise at all? Sebastian wasn’t the Penhallows’ cousin so why would Lightwoods hold grudge anymore? Penhallows were betrayed as much as they were, though they did not lose a child.

Any black-haired character: Their hair was like spilled ink. Their hair was shockingly black.

Not having to hold secrets and hide your true self from everyone around you is freeing, it's a relief. Of course it is, but the way the narrative has treated Alec is that everyone else knows better than him about Alec’s own business and what he should do.

Alec should do this, feel this, feel that, and it’s not Alec ridding himself of the weight on his shoulders. It would most likely be more rewarding if the narrative didn’t actively shame Alec for being in the closet and confused about his feelings.

Given Clary’s track record with other girls, that “if so, it was a good choice” doesn’t save this from sounding somewhat snide still. Also, let girls wear T-shirt they want to wear and don’t make it about some boy.

It went at least ten minutes. No way all that happened after Sebastian releasing the demons and Valentine dying took so little time. Also, if this was the end of a trilogy and the series weren’t to continue after this, why would you belittle such a battle like this? There was such a preparation for it and everything and then the battle was a really short one.

Say one more time it was ten minutes. I dare you.

So now they are all friendly and crushing on Simon together? Nothing in Maia and Isabelle’s relationship makes sense and will not make sense in the future.

Magnus was told to be talking with Tessa, so specifying that the girl is indeed her is unnecessary. There was no other girl mentioned in between.

→ “Magnus broke away and came toward them, and the girl slipped into the shadow of the trees and was gone.”

I didn’t sit and read through the drivel about how Jace loved Clary the second he saw her, how he came awake in an instant, and how everything he did was for Clary back when neither even thought they were siblings to be served this one and moldy final step before they finally get together.

FINALLY.

And Clary acts like this is a fucking surprise. I think it’s safe to say that aside from Valentine, the sole reason for anything plot related Jace has been Clary because it’s hasn’t been Alec or Isabelle or Max. Not Robert or Maryse, and definitely not Simon. Clary has been Jace’s motivation. “In part” is just putting it mildly.

You think. It’s great that this is addressed here but it was never part of Alec and Jace’s relationship or interaction or anything.

I am officially throwing up. Clary, you are special, I get it, even if it has to be on the expense of other important relationships. How can you be parabatai to someone and not give yourself to them completely (though not romantically, of course)? How’s that supposed to work? Or am I confusing this with Jaeger pilots.

No comma, same subject.

→ “Jace made an inelegant noise; he was trying not to laugh and only semi-succeeded.”

You all over there are acting like you don’t even know each other. And Clary still keeps seeing things in surprise for the umpteenth time. And I am so sick of it.

I am so sick of “—and”, it’s used so many times that it’s coming out of my ears and haunting my nightmares. And oh my god, Jocelyn hasn’t dressed up but still Luke totally thinks she is absolutely perfect? What?? As if relationships are supposed to work like this???

I am so sick of this nice little ending like this is some satisfactory and fulfilling end to all crap that happened. This book sucks, fuck it and fuck all.

#Clary Fray #Jace Herondale #Isabelle Lightwood #Alec Lightwood #Simon Lewis #Magnus Bane #Luke Garroway #Hodge Starkweather #City of Glass #CoG Epilogue

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morning-softness · 3 years ago

Note

We've talked about some of questions posed by the Fanfic Writers asks before, so here's a few we haven't talked about, if you like: 11, 21, and/or 90~

Fanfic Writers Ask Game

Thanks for sending these! It was fun.

11. What’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

Hmm, something neat I’ve learned…

Did you know that, while both Coca-Cola and Pepsi are roughly equally popular in the USA (where they originate), most other countries only have one brand as their primary popular cola drink (which probably sounds obvious, but honestly wasn’t something I’d thought much about)? And that Coca-Cola is the popular brand in far more countries internationally than Pepsi (which I definitely didn’t know)?

I found this out while writing Love or Whatever You Call It, because I had to change the joke in Chapter 7 after the person Brit-picking the story mentioned they didn’t really drink Pepsi in the UK, and I started looking into it more. (The original joke is that someone asks if the drink is Coca-Cola or Pepsi and the other person says “If you can’t tell the difference, what difference does it make?”. Which I feel like might be a US cultural reference to the Cola Wars, particularly the fact that one of Pepsi’s promotional stunts was The Pepsi Challenge—having people do a blind taste-test of two cola drinks and then try to pick which one is Coca-Cola and which is Pepsi.)

I actually do a fair amount of research. For my TMA fanfic, since I’m not British, I’ve had to do a lot of research into fairly basic stuff about living in the London area, or the UK in general. I remember looking up hiking trails (as well as a lot of other information about hiking) for All That We Think We Know, and spending a couple hours comparing demographic information and transit lines trying to decide which area of London Melanie should live in for Incendiary Tactics.

21. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write.

In practical terms, I feel like my writing process is so idiosyncratic that it would probably frustrate anyone trying to work with me. I can’t imagine that getting a bunch of random scenes out of order is what anyone would want from me as their coauthor, especially if I was working with someone who had a more structured writing style. And if I managed to find someone with a similar writing process, I think we’d have a lot of fun swapping headcanons and throwing ideas out there but it might quickly become chaos.

That said, I do have an idea for a 5+1 structure precanon Jon/Tim dating fic, swapping perspectives between Jon and Tim. Jon and Tim both want something more than friendship but are scared to seriously pursue it, because they don’t want to mess up the relationship they already have. They keep trying to test the waters, asking each other out using vague language that ends up misinterpreted as just another fun time together as friends (the 5), until finally Tim gets the courage to ask Jon directly if he wants to date him and Jon agrees, and they have their ‘real’ first date (the +1). In a perfect world, I would write this together with Rye @voiceless-terror because Rye is great at writing Jon/Tim fic, and does an excellent characterization of Tim in particular.

90. Do you notice your own voice in your writing style?

Oh, definitely! For better or worse, I think not just the style but the mood of my writing tends to be fairly similar across pieces, and fairly indicative of the way I think in general. A lot of sensory (especially visual and tactile) detail, a lot of character introspection, long sentences with lots of commas or dashes, present tense, and generally close perspective (I used to write primarily in first person POV, and while I write in third person for fanfic, my work doesn’t really convey a sense of the author as an observer or narrator separate from the characters).

I’ve mentioned this before but I experience emotions pretty strongly, if not always clearly (having more of something unidentifiable does not necessarily make it easier to identify), so I tend to favor work that deals with strong emotion and—all my research aside—I generally prioritize a sense of emotional satisfaction over a fully logical plot.

My sibling has complained that I only like to write sad stories, and I’d personally characterize my vibe as

which explains why I’ve found a niche as a hurt/comfort writer in fanfic.

#ask game #writing ask game

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areyouseriouspadfoot · 4 years ago

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park meeting, part 1. (muggle au)

A/N: well, I figured I could start with one of my first drabbles. Apparently I was not familiar with the use of stops and commas.

One of the things Marlene loved the most about having a dog was the possibility of lying down on the park almost every single day. While Hazel, her bernese mountain dog, ran around chasing squirrels, she would sit under a tree, spread a blanket over the grass and read. Occasionally the dog would come with some random branch and she would throw it so he could fetch it and, after a while, Hazel would lay down next to her, demand some belly rubs, and then they would stay like that for a fair amount of time.

It was a cloudy day and, as usual, she and Hazel were on the park. There was cool breeze blowing softly making the tree leafs fly around, painting a beautiful scenery before her eyes. After a long run, Hazel was curled up next to her while she finished her current book. Marlene bundled up a bit and passed to the next page; sighing softly. Her eyes arrived to the last paragraph when a high pitched cry broke her concentration.

A little boy, no older than three years old, was crying and holding to his stuffed animal as if his life depended on it. Marlene frowned worriedly, he seemed to be lost. She stood up immediately, put her book away and walked towards him with Hazel trailing behind her.

The toddler was crying hysterically when Marlene kneeled in front of him. “Hey, sweetie, where are your parents?” she asked softly as she stroke his black and messy hair. The kid’s crying ceased a bit and he practically threw himself to her, catching her by suprise.

Marlene sighed and lifted him up. “Shh… it’s okay, it’s okay, don’t cry, honey” she murmured softly. “Why don’t we go and find them, okay?” she muttered and ran her thumb over his cheek. “That’s a pretty animal, does he have a name?” she asked pointing at the stuffed deer he had on his tiny little hands.

The kid nodded. “Pwongs”, he sniffed, resting his head on Marlene’s shoulder.

“Prongs, huh? That’s a very cool name… she’s my dog, Hazel; do you like dogs?” Marlene asked tenderly as she walked through the park scanning every human being, trying to detect a worried parent.

“Hazel!” the kid giggled a bit and the dog’s tail waged happily.

“Do you want to pet her?” Marlene smiled, relieved that he stopped crying. “She’s very friendly” she added and put him down, kneeling next to him.

Hazel approached to them and, after smelling the kid, started licking him playfully. The boy giggled happily and hugged the dog by the neck, running his little fingers through her fur. Marlene smiled widely and shot a quick glance around, trying to see if she could find the parents; however, there were no signs of them. Her blue eyes focused on the kid again and she couldn’t help to smile at the adorable scene.

“I swear mate, it was just one bloody second and then he was… FOUND HIM, there he is… thank God, I’ll call you later Moony… bloody hell Harry, there you are! You gave me such a fright, mate!” a handsome man lifted the kid up and pressed his lips against the boy’s forehead.

“Pafoot!” Harry giggled and then pointed to the bernese mountain dog “Hazel!” he said happily whilst moving impatintly on the man’s arms trying to reach the dog.

Marlene stared at the scene speechless, the man was not much older than her and he was ridiculously good looking; definitely not the type of guy she would’ve expect to have a child. He had black hair: not very short but not very long either, just the perfect length to play with it; grey eyes that now were shining at the sight of his son and a couple of tattoos over his arms that suited him just perfectly. If that wasn’t enough, he was also wearing a leather jacket and everyone knew how much Marlene appreciated a leather jacket.

He placed Harry next to the dog and saw how he started playing with her again. “Thank you, I was so…” his voice trailed when his eyes caught sight of her, and sweet God she was gorgeous. “… worried”

“No need for that, I’m glad I could help”, she shrugged, smiling. Marlene’s eyes traveled to the kid and her dog and lingered there for a moment. “They seem to like each other” she commented casually.

His heart skipped a few beats when she smiled at him. “No, I do need to thank you… I’m Sirius, by the way” he introduced himself after clearing out his throat.

Marlene chuckled softly, shaking her head slowly. “Nice to meet you, I’m Marlene… you have a nice kid, Sirius” she said honestly as her eyes traveled once more to Harry and Hazel and smiled at the pair.

Sirius chuckled a bit and shook his head. “He’s not my son, he’s my godson” he corrected her with his tone of voice changing slightly to a sadder one. “His parents died a year ago and now I’m taking care of him”, he explained.

“Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that” she said truthfully, frowning a bit. Marlene briefly looked at the little boy who seemed so happy. “It’s a good thing he has someone who take care of him, though” she then added.

Harry was playing and giggling happily with Hazel, pulling her ears and pressing Prongs to the dog’s face “Hazel, Hazel!” he beamed enthusiastically as he clapped his tiny hands. The dog licked Harry’s face playfully and then ran in circle, making both Sirius and Marlene laugh at the scene.

“Alright mate, I think we should go now and leave poor Hazel to rest” Sirius chuckled and lifted Harry. The kid whined and struggled on his godfather’s arms so he could reach the dog again “Hazel! Hazel!”

“Come on, Prognsie, let’s go to see uncle Remus… we don’t want to bother this lovely lady and her dog anymore” Sirius insisted trying to calm him. “I want Hazel!” Harry whined pouting and folding his tiny arms over his chest. The young man let out a tired sigh but didn’t put him down; instead he gave an apologetic look to Marlene.

“You know, Hazel and I come here every day… why don’t you go with Sirius now and we’ll meet again tomorrow?” Marlene suggested smiling and messing with his already messy hair.

“I like the sound of that” Sirius smirked and then looked at his godson who nodded not very convinced. “At what time do you usually come?” he asked trying to sound casual as he placed Harry over his shoulders.

“Um… around four, I guess” she shrugged managing to hide her excitement and running her fingers through her blonde wavy hair.

“It’s a play date then” he winked and then added, “say good bye, mate”. Harry waved at Marlene first and then to Hazel. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

“Bye Harry” she smiled at the toddler and then blushed slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be here” she nodded her head. Of course she was going to be there, she was not going to miss a date with a handsome man.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow then” he nodded with a smirk and started walking away. After a while he turned around and saw that she was still there. “OI, MARLENE” he shouted and waited for her to turn around. “THANK YOU” he added and kept on walking with the image of her wide grin in his mind.

Harry kept on pulling his hair and hitting his head with Prongs. “You know Prongsie, you should make a special drawing for her” he muttered distractedly as he walked through the park. Sirius’ eyes wandered through the area: there were people running, walking, skating and couples kissing. “Remember when I said that I didn’t date?” he asked distractedly. “Well, I guess there’s always an exception to the rule” he mused.

#blackinnon #marlene mckinnon #sirius black #marlene mckinnon x sirius black #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #park meeting #muggle au #my stuff #drabbles

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boxoftheskyking · 4 years ago

Text

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Two

how do you write Wei Ying? All talking. How do you write Lan Zhan? Run on sentences, of course.

have some exposition. everyone is a mess, wahoo.

Part One

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Lan Zhan’s iron is broken.

There’s no reason it should be—he keeps it clean and returns it to its original box after each use, and it’s barely three years old. But no matter what he does, it does not heat. He shouldn’t even need to iron his shirt in the morning, but deadline on deadline (and budget cuts on budget cuts) mean that he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in six days and hasn’t done laundry in a week. There are dishes piled up in the kitchen sink, so he’s started avoiding the kitchen entirely on his way to crash into bed so he doesn’t have to see it.

Things break, Lan Zhan accepts this. They wear out, come to accidents, disappoint you, die. But there’s no reason for this iron not to work. There have been no odd smells, the plug is fine—he’s tried three different outlets—and it’s barely three years old.

He stands in his closet in an undershirt and boxers, one hand pressed flat against the heating element, and allows himself a two minute breakdown.

There’s no reason for it. He’s done everything right, ticked every box. He started writing at age ten and hasn’t stopped since. He was top of his class at university, edited every school paper he had access to and founded two more, he got his masters. Even factoring in nepotism—which he doesn’t like to do, because it makes him feel like a cheat—he’s gone about as far as he can as a journalist. He’s won every major award, and with his uncle as managing editor he has more freedom than most in terms of how he writes and what he covers. He served the Republic, fought for two and half years and got a Sunshot medal for it. And yet, after ten years in his chosen field, everything is dying around him. No one pays for papers anymore, no one cares for the truth anymore. Political pundits on TV and radio have taken over the readership; citizens still traumatized by war just want someone to tell them what to think, tell them everything is fine now, tell them to ignore the injustices and messes and misfortunes that surround them. When he started at the Gusu Herald there were fifty people on staff—now they’re down to under twenty, including editors. All the small town papers in the area have closed, but there’s hardly the staff to even consider local stories these days. Lan Qiren tries to hold out as the last family-owned paper in the area, but corporations are circling. It’s like he spent his whole youth building a shining bridge across a canyon, only to find the other side barren and dead, miles of cold steel and no light on the horizon.

He turns the iron and presses it against his chest, imagines it suddenly turning on, the satisfaction of the burn.

Then he unplugs the iron, puts it back in its box, and pulls on the wrinkled shirt. He pulls up the blackout curtains to let a little of the thin 7am light into the bedroom. There’s no reason to still have blackout curtains in Gusu, but he got used to it years ago and once he gets used to things he tends not to change them without reason. But he’s got plants now, gifts from his brother, and he’s trying to keep them alive. It shouldn’t be that difficult to do, he is conscientious and meticulous, but then his iron shouldn’t be broken either.

No one comments on his wrinkled appearance when he gets to work, which irks him. There is the familiar sound of phones ringing, printers going, file cabinets slamming open and closed in every direction. It’s calming to him, but he can’t help but notice how much quieter it is now than when he started. Part of it is the new computers—when he started here they were still on electric typewriters which were deafening. But mostly it just feels . . . empty.

Not completely empty, not yet.

“Hey, hey Lan Zhan,” Lan Meiling waves him over to her desk, where a half dozen reporters are gathered around a computer printout. “Did you see this? Jin Zixun’s the new head of the Trade Commission. Just announced.”

Lan Zhan winces and looks over the report.

“But we’re not a monarchy, right guys?” Liu Dong snorts, shoving Meiling’s shoulder.

“It’s not a monarchy, it’s the other thing,” Wang Tengfei says, tapping his chin. “What’s the thing where it’s not passed down by birth, but you still appoint all your family members? That’s a thing isn’t it?”

“That’s just Jin Guangshan,” Liu Dong laughs. “But hush, hush, treason.”

“Come on, what’s the word for it?” Tengfei asks again.

Meiling takes the paper back from Lan Zhan. “Wasn’t he the one who paid for his grades in college? I get them confused.”

Lan Zhan nods. “That was Jin Zixun. Who’s got the story? There should be clippings. ‘92, I think, or ‘93.”

“Who covered that? Any of you?” Su She leans over the cubicle wall, knocking the photo of Meiling’s family onto her desk. There’s no reason for him to be here; he doesn’t cover politics. He’s had the local court beat for the past three years, and has spent those three years writing the exact same story five times a week with different names and charges plugged in. Lan Zhan is completely sure that he’d cover a person fined for unpaid parking tickets and a person arrested for smuggling baby unicorns with the exact same level of interest.

“Wei Ying wrote the story,” Lan Zhan says. The group falls silent, a troubled glance flying between all but him. “Before the merger, in the Gusu Times. Lan Shu can pull the clippings for you. It was a series, I believe.”

Lan Meiling coughs. “You can find a different reference, Liu Dong. Someone in Qinghe must have covered it.”

“It was a good series,” Lan Zhan says. He’s being needlessly stubborn, but that’s nothing new. “Wei Ying got the school registrar on the record.”

Liu Dong scratches the back of his shaved head. “Yeah, but. You know. I’ll call over to Qinghe.”

“It was a good series,” Lan Zhan says again. It’s awkward enough to break up the group, everyone shuffling back to their desks or the coffee maker. Lan Zhan has that uncomfortable feeling that he’s supposed to want to apologize for something. It’s a feeling he gets a lot, and he hates it. He doesn’t want to apologize—he has nothing to apologize for. Wei Ying was a good reporter; he wrote good stories. Everything that happened after that doesn’t change the fact that he was good at what he did.

Su She follows him over to his desk, so his day is about to keep getting worse. Lan Zhan prides himself on being rational, and he has many rational reasons for disliking Su She. He’s a half-assed writer, he wouldn’t know a decently placed comma if it was unveiled to him on a pedestal by the gods, he is a busybody and a gossip, and he lives to take credit for other people’s work. He’ll offer you the phone number of one of his “connections” and then whine about how he deserves a shared byline.

But on many levels beyond the rational, Lan Zhan hates the guy. He hates the way he pronounces words, his laugh, the smell of his lunch, even his handwriting. And he’s always there.

“You knew him, didn’t you, Lan Zhan?” Su She leans on his cubicle now, though there are no photographs to knock down.

Lan Zhan’s instinctual response is Don’t call me that, which is ridiculous because it’s his name. But he hates the way his name sounds in Su She’s mouth.

“What?”

“Wei Ying. You knew him before the scandal, didn’t you?”

Lan Zhan takes an even breath. “Yes.”

“Did you work with him?”

“He was at the Times, before the merger. He never worked at the Herald.”

“But you knew him in school, right?”

If Lan Zhan wanted to be fair (he doesn’t), there’s no way for Su She to know that this line of questioning is particularly painful. He distracts himself from the sting of it by considering all of the answers he won’t be giving.

Yes. He gave me half a handjob in 1989 and I’ve thought of it every day since.

Yes. He called me his soulmate one day in the library at Gusu University and I’ve thought of it every day since.

Yes, I read the story that ruined his life before it was published, because he came to my home and asked me to read it and he was so proud, skinny and manic and over-caffeinated and burning, burning, burning, and I looked at him and I recognized the same thing that burns in me, the thing that keeps me coming back to this sad beige office every day, that makes me want to fight the inevitable like swinging swords at the sea, and I didn’t tell him not to publish. I told him it was a good story. It would not have stopped him, me telling him not to do it. But I could have tried. And I’ve thought of that every day since.

He just nods, instead.

“Is he still alive, do you think?” Su She asks casually.

The question stops Lan Zhan. “What?”

“No one’s heard from him since the war, have they? Could have died somewhere. Plenty still missing. I heard he went West, maybe, and the fighting was—”

“He is not dead.” Lan Zhan doesn’t know this for sure. But he would know, surely. Wouldn’t he? The thought honestly has not occurred to him in all these years, that Wei Ying might have died.

“Are you in touch?” Su She has a habit of asking questions like this, flipping from casual conversation to an interrogation. It makes him a terrible reporter.

“I served with his brother. He has not mentioned that Wei Ying has died. I have work to do, Su She.”

It bothers him, even after Su She leaves. He hasn’t seen Jiang Cheng in a few years, and they do not write or call each other. Jin Zixuan writes to them all about once a year, and he visits when he’s in Gusu, but he has always been the more sentimental one of the three of them, the survivors. But he thinks that Jiang Cheng would tell him if Wei Ying had died.

Perhaps he wouldn’t. Jiang Cheng was not at school with them; he may not think of Lan Zhan as a person to notify in the event of his brother’s death. Would anyone think to let him know? It wouldn’t make the papers, probably, so how would he know? Wen Qing, perhaps. If she remembered. If she is also alive.

He feels it like an itch on his skin, something unsettled in his stomach, the idea that Wei Ying might not have survived. He would know, wouldn’t he? He’d feel it, the change in the fabric of the universe. Food would taste different, his voice would sound different. He’d feel it in the moments between sleeping and waking.

He makes a cup of tea and boots up his computer. They all have emails now, which is still a relatively new part of the morning ritual, but he doesn’t mind adding it as he checks his mail, his answering machine. He had a deadline yesterday and isn’t swamped this morning, so he takes down phone numbers and flips through his calendar on autopilot while he thinks about Wei Ying.

Wei Ying probably remembers him. He definitely remembers him, it would be ridiculous for him not to, but Lan Zhan doubts he remembers their college years the same way.

(His fingers in Wei Ying’s hair, shoved against the wall in someone else’s dark bedroom, cheering and laughter from the drinking game just downstairs, cheap beer on his breath, everything spinning, spinning, his first time being drunk, his brain singing out kiss him, kiss him again, more, more, more, this is your chance, Wei Ying’s left hand on him, awkward and surprisingly tender, Wei Ying’s voice slurring in his ear “Lan Zhan I’m so glad you’re here, I’m so glad, I’m so glad I found you, Lan Zhan,” before the door bursts open and they spring apart, before Wei Ying ruffles his hair and says, “You probably won’t remember this, huh?” before they leave the party separately, before weeks of silence because what do you say to all of that, before Wei Ying and Wen Qing get together and Lan Zhan says, “I’m happy for you,” which is a lie, a lie, a lie, before Wei Ying and Wen Qing split up and Lan Zhan says, “I’m sorry to hear that,” which is a lie, a lie, a lie . . .)

He could do some digging. It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to find him, and it’s not like Lan Zhan lacks resources. But every time the thought crosses his mind it feels like too much, too violating. If Wei Ying wanted to be found, he would not have disappeared. And if Wei Ying wanted Lan Zhan in his life, he knows where to find him. Lan Zhan is not the one who left.

That’s a bitter thought, and unfair.

The story of Wei Ying is not complicated, and it’s not secret, but it’s never told right.

They’d met in college, when Wei Ying transferred to Gusu in junior year, in a psych class of all places. Lan Zhan had a double major, because psychology and journalism was a logical pairing, and Wei Ying was meant to take a broadcast concentration but had broken his wrist falling off a roof and couldn’t work any of the equipment.

Lan Zhan hadn’t known what to do with him at first. Wei Ying had grabbed him for the first group project a week into the semester, declaring, “We’re kindred spirits, you know,” before writing his phone number left-handed on Lan Zhan’s arm. Lan Zhan did not know. They had barely spoken before this, but for the rest of the semester Wei Ying sat by him and they studied together and Lan Zhan pulled strings to get him onto the university paper. And Wei Ying had grinned at him one day in the library, sleep-deprived and rumpled, when Lan Zhan had finished his trailed-off sentence, and said “Ah, my soulmate.”

They were kindred spirits, Lan Zhan believed. Lan Zhan decided he wanted to be a reporter when he was ten and learned the truth about his parents. After an entire childhood of being lied to, he decided his calling in life would be to tell the truth, no matter what. It made him odd and prickly, and usually lonely, but gave him a reputation of fearlessness and ferocity that he would never regret.

Wei Ying was different. He wasn’t so invested in the truth from a moral or political perspective—he was cheerfully amoral back then, in a teenage kind of way—but he loved information and he loved being right. Puzzles and secrets attracted him, and Lan Zhan watched them open up for him like lotus flowers at every turn.

Lan Zhan settled into their friendship in a way that was unexpected, he began to rely on Wei Ying’s opinion, began to think of things from his perspective when he found himself stuck. And then he’d gotten drunk at a midwinter party and kissed Wei Ying and ruined all of it. It wasn’t Wei Ying’s fault. Lan Zhan had panicked and run and then left for break and never given Wei Ying his home number, and then when he returned Wei Ying wasn’t single anymore. He’d gone to Yiling with Wen Qing and her brother and come back someone’s boyfriend. (Wen Qing! Older, beautiful, stern and razor-sharp, who Lan Zhan had hero-worshipped, the part-time advisor to the school paper who turned down more offers than either of them would see in their lifetimes. That Wen Qing!) And Lan Zhan didn’t know how to handle it so he just . . . let it go. They stayed in touch while Wei Ying moved back to Yunmeng for a while, then got a job at the Times after the war started, and Lan Zhan joined the Herald and went to grad school, always Wei Ying reaching out first. But even after they were both single again and living in the same city, they just stayed apart.

It would be easy—completely unfair, but easy—to blame Wen Qing for all of it. But all she’d done was the same thing Lan Zhan had. Loved Wei Ying, and failed to stop him. If anything, Wen Qing is better than he is—when Wei Ying fell, at least she fell with him.

The downfall was not complicated, and he should have seen it coming. When Wei Ying showed up at his door in the middle of the night with a crumpled print out of his story, Lan Zhan should have seen where it would lead.

It was 1994, three years into the war, and Lan Zhan was in training with the cultivator corps in Lanling. In retrospect, that’s likely how Wei Ying found him—Jiang Cheng was in his unit and must have given the address. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he didn’t stop Wei Ying. Everything was so unreal, the war, the devastation, the training, cultivation itself. Everything he’d known about life, the country, physics, what is possible and what is just a legend, all of it was thrown out into a whirling storm of adapt, adapt, adapt. It was chaos, and Lan Zhan became very good at chaos.

The story would have been a bombshell in any year—over a dozen former assistants, interns, and even one sitting representative accusing the Acting President of the Republic of misconduct and abuse. Rumors about Jin Guangshan were older than his political career, and illegitimate children were hardly rare in government, but Wei Ying had been the first to get multiple accusers on the record along with recordings and photos. Wen Qing, the youngest managing editor in the country and one of only two women, had agreed to run the story.

It was a good story. A really, really good story.

But there was a war on, and Acting President Jin was the only protection the country had against the usurper Wen Ruohan and his army of traitors. Not that Jin Guangshan ever left Carp Tower himself—that’s what the oldest son was for.

The blowback was immediate—Wei Ying was forced to retract the entire story and resign, Wen Qing was fired and the Gusu Times lost every advertiser and investor on the books. It was only natural for Lan Qiren to buy it up for pocket change, the merger he’d been looking at for years. All of the women named in the story issued statements accusing Wei Ying of lying, of doctoring evidence, of hiring actors that looked like them to fill his false story with fake photos. All statements made after visits from high ranking military officers, of course. He’d heard rumors that Wen Qing’s brother had enlisted and they used him for leverage, which wouldn’t be surprising. He hadn’t expected Wen Qing to give up without a fight.

Wei Ying had written to him once, just after he disappeared, with no return address.

It’s my fault, it said. Lan Zhan, it was all true, the story was true, but I’m still a liar. I told them I could protect them all, if they went on the record. I promised. I promised Wen Qing. And I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Lan Zhan, I never wanted to be a liar.

And in the end, it meant nothing. Few enough people were getting daily papers, much less actually reading them, and with the immediate retraction, reams and reams being taken off newsstands by military police, it was barely a drop in the storm that was raging. Outside of the newsrooms themselves, at least, where Wei Ying and Wen Qing were nailed up on the wall as a cautionary tale. Free press, up to a point. Sometimes Lan Zhan thinks about what would happen if the story broke today, the impact it could have. But after the retraction, you can’t go back. He can’t think about it too long or the rage overtakes him. Rage for Wei Ying, for Wen Qing, for every person in the article who was smothered and tossed out with nothing. The kind of rage that doesn’t fade, can’t be extinguished.

Lan Zhan shakes himself. Wei Ying is alive. Wen Qing is also alive, most likely. Su She is an idiot.

He only has one message on his answering machine.

“Hey, Lan Zhan, it’s your cousin Lan Liang. Listen, I’ve got something I want to talk to you about. I don’t know if it’s your thing, or if you choose what you cover or whatever, but there’s a kid gone missing here in Moling and some very weird stuff going on at the building sites. I don’t have all the details, but it’s my uncle’s daughter-in-law’s foster kid. Cops aren’t giving them much, so I said I’d call you. I don’t know if the kid went wandering and got hurt or got lost or what, but maybe someone from the Herald can cover it, get the public interest up. Maybe someone knows something. I don’t know. Probably a long shot, but I said I’d call, so there you go. You can reach me at—”

Lan Zhan takes down the number neatly in his calendar. He can call after the 10am meeting, maybe drive out to Moling in the afternoon. The rage is still there, banked and contained and ready to be useful.

Part Three

#assorted writings #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #cql #pick up every piece #Just getting! shit! written! who! cares! if! its! good!

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mccartneysbass · 6 years ago

Text

foresaken destiney

pairing: jasper hale x reader

word count: ~2.1k, unedited excuse the over usage of commas and all other mistakes, I’m trying something kind of new with my writing sooo without further ado, enjoy!

summary: When the Cullens move to Forks, Y/N knows that something isn’t right about the Cullen family. As they investigate further into the mystery that surrounds the family, they wind up finding out more than what they were looking for. Meanwhile, Jasper struggles with the fact that his mate is human.

part i | part ii (to be posted)

Working at the front office had its perks, like having access to school files and being able to hear all the latest news, well more really, gossip from the office workers. Which was how you knew Forks was about to receive several new students all courtesy of the brand new Dr. Cullen; who had all the office workers willing to risk it all. Apparently, he was young but had adopted several teenagers after their family had passed away. Taking advantage of the office workers chattering about the Cullens, you searched through their schedules trying to see who you would end up having in class. Midway through your mini inquiry, the office door swung open and the family of the hour entered.

They all wore a variant of white and you couldn’t help but wonder if they had coordinated that morning. You handed each of the new students their schedules, each of them politely greeting you, their golden eyes shone brightly under the florescent lights. It was the last one who gave you an odd vibe. He looked like he was in pain, his hair was wild, sticking out in odd directions and he kept staring at you. His stare was broken by the shortest one, who pulled him down and whispered in his ear. You couldn’t hear what she said but it had a visible effect on him, his shoulders dropped.

He stuck his hand out at you, “Jasper Hale.”

You couldn’t help but feel tense, there was something about the new students that just didn’t sit right. But as soon as the feeling came you felt oddly calm and relaxed. Taking his hand you offered a small smile, “YN.”

Two things stuck out to you: how cold his hand was and his accent. You wondered what type of accent it was, you knew it was southern but you couldn’t quite nail the state. Alice broke you out of your thoughts, “YN, do you mind walking us to class?”

“No problem at all! I actually think I have next period with you and Jasper,” you replied. She clapped her hands before taking your arm and dragging you out of the office. You hid your surprise with a laugh, before leading the Cullens to their respective classes. Jasper was right behind you as Rosalie, Edward and Emmett trailed behind engrossed in their conversation. Alice who still had a grip on your arm, pulled you even closer to her, “If you aren’t busy this weekend YN, you should show us around Forks and Port Angeles.”

“Alice,” Jasper said firmly. There was an unspoken conversation as the two looked at each other.

“Relax, it will be fine. So what do you say, this Saturday?” Alice excitedly continued.

Running a hand through your hair, you let out a breath, “Of course. It would be my pleasure, though I will give you a fair warning, there isn’t much to see.”

“We are more interested in the company anyhow,” he drawled out. You could feel a slight blush at his words, before you could control yourself you blurted out, “I love your accent. It is uh- very soothing.” Mentally you chastised yourself, you hadn’t even known them for a full five minutes and you were already a twitterpated mess.

He smirked, “Texas, ma’am.” The accent was even more obvious.

You waved your hand in front of the classroom door, “Well this is it. I will see you next period, cowboy.”

You had seen the Cullens throughout the day, they were the only thing the school talked about and you couldn’t blame them. It was the most exciting thing to happen in Forks since sliced bread. By lunchtime, the whispering that surrounded the new arrivals was beginning to pique your interest even more. The rumors ranged from plausible to just outright ridiculous: your favorite one being where Dr. Cullen was secretly running a cult.

“So Nancy Drew, know anything about the new kids?” Lauren asked before you even set your food down on the table.

You threw one of your french fries at her, “Sheesh, let the new kids breath a little won’t you? And to answer your question, they seem perfectly nice, if not a bit odd but nice.”

“Really? They’ve been giving everyone the cold shoulder, not that I care. As if they are anything special,” Jessica added.

“I’m going to shoot my shot with the blonde one,” Tyler huffed.

Stifling a laugh you replied, “Please, the day you have a chance with Rosalie is when I meet the Beatles.”

When they entered the cafeteria you again thought they had to have coordinated. Locking eyes with you Alice waved, you glanced to the side of her and were met with Jasper’s stare. It was odd how he made you feel butterflies in your stomach while also unnerving you. You nodded to Rosalie and Emmett, while Edward only narrowed his eyes at you.

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of someone watching you. It was a constant and kept you on edge. The same gut feeling from earlier came back full force, you didn’t shake it off this time.

The rest of the week the same feeling of being watched stayed with you, even at home you felt it. You had woken up several times throughout the night and saw those distinctive golden eyes. You had chalked it off as nightmares or even sleep paralysis but when you started finding items in places you hadn’t left them before your suspicion grew.

Alice and Jasper had taken to you relatively fast, they often hung around you and made sure to greet you every morning. You couldn’t quite figure out what was the deal with Jasper, he switched between looking at you as if you had just shoved his favorite pet off of a building and like you were the only thing that mattered.

You would find him waiting for you outside the office every day, “Here let me,” he would say as he took the textbooks from your hand. As you walked together to your next class he broke the silence, “What is your favorite subject?”

You hesitated for a second before you started rambling, “History. I love the post-world war II era. Oh and the culture of the 1960s, great music.”

He gave you one of his smirks, “Really? I love history as well. Although, I am much fonder of the antebellum period.”

It was almost 2 weeks since the Cullens arrived in Forks, they continued to be the talk of the school. They certainly continued to be the only thing Jessica and Lauren discussed during lunch. Their constant digs at you for being the only person to break into their tight-knit circle were starting to get on your nerves.

“I need a new lease for my camera, do any of you want to go with me to Port Angeles after school?” Angela interrupted Jessica’s ire towards you. If it wasn’t for Angela you didn’t know how you would’ve survived the two.

“I will! I need to make a quick stop at my dad’s office to pick up some files. He wants me to help with one of his cases.” You eagerly replied, you were dreading the drive to Port Angeles and now you would at least have some company. Your Father was a private investigator and you had often helped him with his cases and around the office. He had taught you everything you knew, from being observant to never doubt your gut feelings. As you grew older you started to get more hands-on with the investigations; stakeouts and learning how to take the money shots. You enjoyed helping him out, the disappearances and bigger cases were all puzzles that were waiting to be solved. All of that for better or for worse had bled into your high school days, it wasn’t like any of your snooping was hurting anyone.

“Ooo do tell. What’s the spicy drama this time?” Lauren leaned forward.

“I can’t really say much but it is the typical money shot case. Infidelity and whatnot, the usual, it will probably eat up my weekend,” you replied, not wanting to give too much information.

As everyone scattered to get to class, Jasper brought you to the side of the hallway. “What’s this I hear about you tailing someone?” Jasper questioned.

“How did you hear? But yes, I’m doing some lightweight work for my Dad,” you answered wondering how he could have heard about your upcoming job.

“You’re not going. I don’t want you to put yourself in danger.” He scolded. You couldn’t help the flare of annoyance.

“Well, news flash for you. You’re not the boss of me, you have no right telling me what to do. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you think. Who do you even think you are?” You snapped.

His once golden eyes were almost black, he looked like a completely different person. He grabbed your bicep as you turned to leave, you squirmed under his grip, “Let go of me.”

Before you could even blink Emmett and Edward were pulling Jasper off of you. There was an almost animalistic snarl from Jasper as they dragged him out of the school.

Alice was by your side and started leading you away, “He’s just hungry, low blood sugar.” Alice reassured you. You wanted to believe it but the way that he reacted there was something more.

“You have to be kidding me. There is no excuse for the way he was acting. Just stay away from me.” You pulled away harshly from her grip. She put her hands up, “I know and I’m sorry. You will understand everything soon, YN. Just please,” you didn’t hear the rest of what she was saying as you ran to your car.

You sat in one of your father’s car, it was nondescript, which made it perfect for your stakeout tonight. He was currently out by the border trying to catch a bounty, leaving you to get the cheating husband.

Going on this stakeout was a much-needed distraction from the happenings of today, but it was also served as time to review everything that had happened. You dwelled in your thoughts, while you waited for the husband to leave his work and head towards the mistress.

Thinking back to your uneasiness you realized that it had all started when the Cullens arrived. Was it just a coincidence or was it something more? The Cullens seemed too perfect for you, there was something not right about their story. The good Doctor Cullen seemed too young to be so well respected and not to mention all of his adopted children sharing the same distinctive eye color and skin complexion. They had to be hiding something, you made a note in of the journals you always carried with you to look into their card statements and where they had previously lived.

You were broken out of your thoughts when you saw that the husband had finally gotten into his car and was heading out. Making sure to stay a decent length away as to not create suspicion you followed him all the way to a sleazy motel on the outskirts of Port Angeles.

Taking out your camera you started taking pictures of him exiting his car and making his way towards the motel room. The door swung open before he even touched the handle revealing a young woman, she pulled him in. In their passion, they had forgotten to close the curtain fully allowing you to take enough pictures for the husband's wife to make her case. It was too easy.

Returning back to your father’s office you decided to stay instead of making the drive all the way back to Forks. You printed out the pictures, having everything ready for when the wife would come in tomorrow. Not feeling tired at all you decided to get a head start and begin looking into the Cullens.

One of the best parts of being a private investigator, well having your father be one, was having access to websites that made tracking anyone down easy not to mention digging up dirt. The records of their previous schools all said the same thing: excellent students, kept to themselves, etc. Even Doctor Cullen’s past employments praised him.

There was nothing off about their paperwork, the adoption papers, not even their credit card statements revealed anything, except that Alice apparently had a shopping problem. You stared at the screen wondering what they were hiding. It was all just too good to be true.

You ended up falling asleep on the pullout sofa, all the while Jasper’s golden eyes plagued your thoughts. For the first time in weeks, you didn’t have the feeling that someone was watching you.

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale imagine #jasper whitlock x reader #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #my writing #wow anyways i really am beatles trash titling nearly everything after one their songs #I need to get back into the swing of writing #i feel rusty

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fire-lady-ilah · 4 years ago

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Thank you to @theboyfrommakapu for the tag! Post under the read more.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

26 total (although I think I have 2 or 3 that I either orphaned or deleted, can’t remember) on uhmeduh.

Oh, and 2 on another account I made specifically for my bad 10 year old me’s fanfics. No, you don’t get that one.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

126 862. Which is, frankly, more than I thought. I think it’s grown quite a bit in 2021, to be fair.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

7, according to AO3. One is an original work, so I guess 6? Except Far Cry 4 and 5 are considered different by AO3, as are Persona 2 and 5. I personally consider it like 4 or 5 fandoms.

A:TLA— 20 fics

Persona 2 & 5— 1 fic (crossover between the two)

Far Cry 4 & 5— 1 fic (crossover between the two)

PJO and related fandoms— 3 fics

Original Work— 1 fic

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Silence is a Virtue — 191 kudos

2. sometimes you’re born evil (sometimes you’re not) — 149 kudos

3. In Which Ajay Just Wants a Vacation — 91 kudos

4. musings of a common man — 75 kudos

5. Lost. [tied with] undercurrent — 37 kudos each

Silence is a Virtue and IWAJWAV are both multi chapter fics at 23.6k and 19.2k, respectively. sybe (syn), moacm, and undercurrent are all part of the same series of short fics and range from 4.4k (unfinished) to 7k. Lost. is a theoretical first chapter of a multi chapter fic. 4/6 fics are ATLA, 1 is Far Cry, 1 is PJO.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yeah! I used to not because I’m incredibly awkward about it, but when I started commenting on fics myself and realized how nice it is when the author replies, I started doing it myself. I really enjoy recognizing regular commenters. I just need to stop talking so much about worldbuilding and hinting at stuff in my replies, I think ^^’.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm. Probably either what is a legacy to a dead man (it is worth far more to those still living) or Shattered Porcelain. The former is most likely more angsty to readers, but the latter holds a special place in my mind because I know my OCs intimately well.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Most of them, to be honest. I am, at my core, a fluff writer, even if I also enjoy throwing in sprinkles of angst every so often. The entire the dragon king series is going to end pretty happy if it goes according to plan. If I had to pick a finished fic then probably Apricot Blossoms— it’s just sweet kids in love, you barely notice the darkness on the horizon.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Kinda? Sorta? Not really? Two of my published fics are crossovers but they’re like, crossovers within the same extended fandom.

Oh, wait, that one fic I wrote and published when I was 11 was a weird Harry Potter and mild Avengers crossover. So yeah, I guess.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, no. I occupy a pretty niche area in all the fandoms I write in, so you kind of have to search out the content I make. I’m also not popular at all in the grand scheme of things, which I’m mildly thankful for. I have some popular fic writers as friends and I see some of their commenters sometimes.

10) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I guess? It’s not something I make a habit of, I just in general am not that horny, but I have one published smutfic on AO3 and a ficlet on Tumblr that, if it isn’t really classified as smutc definitely is close. The smut I write is pretty soft and loving and is exclusively LuZhao so far.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. If someone wants to I’m all for it, and theoretically I could translate my own fics into two other languages, but if there isn’t a demand there wouldn’t be much purpose other than me practicing. Who knows though, maybe one of my fics on my account will show up translated into French or Norwegian by me. Or maybe Russian, but that would be an effort. My Russian... isn’t great.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Currently (kinda, fixing my laptop has made it take a hot second) co-writing an OC centric fic with @theboyfrommakapu. I also betaread two of @izzymrdb’s fics, and she called me their coauthor in a comment once so... I guess that counts? I also had plans to make a massive crossover with my own fic and two of my friends but then I fell out of PJO and into ATLA pretty hard.

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

LuZhao, definitely. I’ve just created enough stuff around it to make it my favourite. I’m also quite fond of Jastavian in the realm of PJO.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I fully intend to finish my two main multichapter fics eventually, but I doubt I’ll ever finish Butterfly Kisses. Especially to the extent I have it in my mind.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Uh... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Maybe worldbuilding within an established world? I actually prefer AUs to canon compliance, but when I want something to be canon compliant then I will make sure that it is as fully canon compliant as possible (or, to the extent that canon doesn’t contradict itself). For example, at the moment all of my OCs are completely canon compliant. If I somehow were asked to publish them, they would not contradict any existing work. I put a lot of work into my OCs and worldbuilding and it definitely shows.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

If you asked my girlfriend? My paragraphs are too long and I don’t know how to use commas. She’s right about that, of course.

If you asked me? I’d probably say something a little more vague. I’m bad at the whole “communicating just enough” aspect of writing (and of life). I tend to get absorbed by my worldbuilding and want to tell everyone every little detail, which makes no sense because you don’t need to know it for the fic’s promises.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

So long as a translation is provided, I see no issue if it’s accurate. One of my first fandoms was Hetalia so... yeah.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I’m not sure if it was Harry Potter, Sherlock, or Hetalia. But it was definitely one of those three and I was about 10 when I wrote it.

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Surprisingly I haven’t mentioned it so far, but solntse moye / luna moya. Azulon and Ilah have a relationship I really like, and they both have such distinct inner voices.

Tagging:

@percabeth4life @izzymrdb @crookedmouth-mountainbones @ohmygodtheywereparabatai (I know you write on Tumblr so this would be hard, but consider it another request for you to post your stuff on AO3 ❤️) @thetruecthulhu9 @ariya-167

#tag game #my writing #angie writes

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