#once again i'm not happy with the structure it needed something else at the end

[midwesternfields]

BOOK REVIEW 📖

Last year I kept track of the series & films I watched; this year I've decided to keep track of whatever books I read! So this one is for the month of January – I'll share these sometime after the month is over, or if I read more than one book during the month, I will do their reviews as soon as I finish the book :)

[causenessus]

try again

part 0.10. TO BE HUMAN

she adored the human mind. she wasn't quite sure why, but she liked how unique it was. every mind was different and despite being someone who loved to be in control, she loved that the human mind could not be tamed. it's impossible to stop the way it loves or thinks. as she walks through the city with him, her steps feel easy. her path to this moment hasn't been the easy straightforward one by any means, but perhaps life isn't about the happy ending. rather, it's about finding what it means to be the traveler. the adventurer. the voyager."

content warnings: talk about death and parental issues. one vague mention to someone taking their own life. ness is having an existential crisis. omi and yn are (unofficially) on their first date <3

a therapy session they'd had weeks before summed up a lot of what she'd been feeling recently;

“you know, in our last year of high school, it didn’t really feel all that exciting to me.”

she likes that he can say our. she likes him. it’s that simple.

“everyone made it out to be this exciting once-in-a-lifetime period in our lives. but it didn't feel that way. i just felt loss. and everyone was dying. i mean— not everyone, but it was like everyone around me was experiencing some sort of death. a family member had died, a friend had died, someone i’d never even heard of had taken their life, and it was weird." he trails off, unsure of how else to explain his thoughts but she gets it.

“and even if it wasn’t them losing their life, during that last year of school, there were a lot of people who were dying to themselves,” she follows up. “a lot of people trying to figure out who they were, and realizing they didn’t know who they were, but time kept going. as kids, we grow up thinking one day in the future, we’ll know exactly what to do with ourselves and we'll know how to live life like all the other adults we saw growing up. but then you turn 19 and realize you still don’t know what’s going on. you keep waiting for a revelation, but it never comes.”

he holds her gaze for a moment, and it just feels like they’re looking through each other. like they don’t even need words to communicate. they already know everything about each other. “exactly. it never came, and i was scared it was just me who felt this way. then i kept hearing about more and more people dying, and it–” he pauses, thinking of how he wants to word it. he knows what he wants to say, but he’s scared to say it in front of her, ironically.

“don't think about it, just say what you want to,” she urges gently, “i’m not going to judge you, sakusa. i'm just here to listen”

“it scared me,” the words come out before he can even realize it. the statement was hard to say, but once it slipped out of his mouth, he felt lighter. “i was worried that this was all life was. just watching and hearing more and more people die. it was nothing like anyone made it out to be. nothing about growing up, moving out, anything exciting. just a bunch of people who are older and have jobs and their old enough that people start dying. i know it’s a part of life, but i guess i just thought i’d start actually experiencing people near me dying when i was an adult, you know? like when i was at least 30 years old or something. not in my last year of high school. but no one gives a shit. we’re all basically told we’re adults and if we don't feel like it, to grow the hell up. except none of us know what that means. i never woke up one day feeling like an adult. every day just feels like i’m pretending to know what’s going on. i was in the shoes of the third years i looked up to when i was a first year, and i could only go about my days wondering if they felt as lost as i did.”

“i promise you they did,” she validates. “it’s somewhat a part of the culture surrounding us, and how quickly society wants you to become a functioning member contributing to its structure, but the entire idea of a functioning society is dehumanizing. everyone’s just a human, and they live and they die. as we grow up, we learn more, and gain more experience, but even the third years when you were a first year still messed up. they still asked questions. they didn’t know everything yet, just like you didn’t when you became a third year. and there were first years that looked up to you when you were a third year just like you previously had. then they became third years. do you see what i’m getting at?” she asks and he nods, continuing to listen. “when we look up to someone, we don’t see a lot of their faults. we see so many things that they may think is a flaw as beauty, and that’s just because we love the person. so maybe you don’t remember your third years ever messing up, but that doesn’t mean they’re perfect. they were perfect in your head and there's no harm in looking up to someone, but you're still your own person. you'll never be exactly like any of the third years you looked up to, but that doesn't mean you're a failure or below them. i’m sure if you reached out to them now, or even just asked someone like the coach for your team if they have their life figured out, they’ll laugh and say no. but they can laugh because you’re not supposed to have your life figured out by any certain age.” she was going on a bit of a tangent now, but she was trying her best to explain the philosophy of a topic no one knew the true answer to in her own words to the man in front of her. “i don’t really know if anyone ever figures out their life, but i think the important thing we all have to aim to do is not to find out what’s going on, but just to find people to struggle with. find people that help you carry your burdens, help them carry theirs, and have fun with them. surround yourself with people who remind you that it’s okay not to know what the hell’s going on, and to make mistakes.”

he’d need to make a note of what she’d just said later. and he wanted to apply what she explained to their own relationship. he wanted to help her carry her burdens, just like how she was helping carry his.

now they’re sitting in a diner near to where her office is located. it’s not busy, despite it being just past 6. she’s sipping on a mug of tea while a cup of black coffee sits in front of him, and they’re waiting for the rest of the rest of their food. 

similar to how she’d felt the first time she’d seen him in her office after so many years, despite him sitting straight and tall across from her at a diner table, she didn’t see him like a full-grown adult. she saw him as the friend she’d grown up with years through her childhood and school years. and she was sure she appeared the same to him.

how strange it was, to be human. to ask or pay another human to listen to your struggles and ask them for advice when they can’t be sure of anything either. none of them can control even a single hair on their head, and yet humans have been entrusted with so much. how strange it felt to be an adult, to be where she dreamed of being all alone. to be alone at a table with a friend, without the worry of a curfew, or to have a parent or anyone else sitting next to them.

it was just him and her, and he was all she needed.

she’d remained silent about what was bothering her for most of the walk here. in between those moments where she'd opened up was silence or anything small they could think of to talk about. after they’d ordered and he promised he wanted to listen, the air between them was left silent. he was waiting for her, and then she finally spoke up,

“around when we got distant, my mother left and my father only got worse than he already was. he was always angry at me or trying to guilt trip me because I was the only person left in his life. i didn't stay willingly. i just couldn't leave yet. and it’s–” she had to close her eyes as she talked, trying to keep herself calm and steady, “it was easy for him to guilt trip me. because i still felt bad for him even though everyone had left him for a reason. he just looked so miserable. and i was miserable. i got out of there the moment i could but he still wouldn’t leave me alone. i blocked him on every single platform possible him and he still showed up at my apartment so i moved. then he found me again and my roomates kicked me out so i came to osaka for an internship and i’ve been here ever since. and i’ve just started feeling kind of good where i am, with the people i’m living with, and i found you again. but i’ve been freaked out all day because he called me this morning. i don’t know how he found my number, but i’m scared, sakusa. i don’t want to leave again.”

“then don’t,” he says back as if the solution is simple.

she looks up at him in disbelief, “but what am i supposed to do? if he finds me again, he’ll keep showing up just like last time. my roommates now said they were there to help me, but what if they get tired of me?” her pulse is beating so fast she can feel it in her neck and chest and she doesn’t have the time to overthink anything she’s saying,

“[y/n]. you know the kind of people they are. i know iwaizumi well and i can tell you that he at the very least would never leave you. no one’s going to get sick of you," something keeps her from looking away from him, and he holds her gaze as he continues to talk, "you told me to surround myself with people who remind me it’s not the end of the world if i mess up, and i think that you’ve done that for yourself whether you realize it or not. not everyone is terrible like your old roomates. the ones you have now are all there to help you. they want to help you. they’re there to stay and so am i. if you need even more help or if you don’t want to go back to your apartment, you can always stay over at mine. or call me over. iwaizumi or i could beat your father’s ass so he never comes back.”

she laughs at his ending joke. it wouldn’t even take both of the strongest men she knows to beat up a single alcoholic man, just one of them. she’d been terrified of her father ever since she could remember, but when she thinks about her friends being able to punch her dad in the face, maybe he’s not so scary. she has people who could fight back against him if she can’t. “i’d like that,” she muses, starting to plan out how the entire situation would go, “although if you came over to beat him up, there’s no way iwaizumi’s letting you do it on your own. and shinsuke would probably help too. or at least stare him down which torturous enough on its own. akaashi would keep me company inside.”

sakusa’s smiling too, now, “sounds like we have it all mapped out already. see? you're just fine. if we somehow need even more backup against a single man, the rest of my team will scare him off.”

“please,” she laughs, waving him off, “hinata and bokuto sound like monsters together, and atsumu would only add to the wall of you and iwaizumi.”

"hinata and bokuto are monsters. even to the people they love– especially to the people they love,” he rolls his eyes as he talks, letting the conversation go quiet between them for a second. then, he taps her hand, which she's laid on the table between them, “but i mean it, don’t be afraid to call me, okay? iwaizumi has my number too, if you need.”

“okay, i will, thank you,” she says, starting to believe him. she's starting to believe everything will be fine, and that she's safe.

when their food comes, she begins to think differently from how she did when he was standing in front of her at the door of her office. if she could go back in time, she doesn’t think she would change anything. she likes how she’s reconciled with sakusa, how they’ve caught up, and how the world led them back to each other again.

maybe things will be okay. and like he said, maybe she’s found her people. maybe she’s found her roots.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

here is a second song that i feel resonates very much with this little chapter

if i fail my sociology final i'm sending my teacher this chapter bc at least whatever tf I learned in that class started spilling out here

i'm terribly sorry for how philosophical i get but also not really

as you can tell i am projecting a lot onto this fic

i didn't actually mean for these last two chapters to focus so much on death but it's just how i've been thinking recently (not about death but like growing up and the fear of all that blah blah blah i'm ok dw) and hopefully some people relate to that and this makes them feel a little better :)

but also i liked that both omi and y/n are having these worries and fears about the future and all that!

hmmmmm

i'm not actually crazy for how this story is going to end but maybe it's just me !

this is the second to last chapter <3

also ofc the diner omi and yn went to is the ravens eye diner!!!!! (shameless plug for the loml mo <3)

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[writeforfandoms]

Warrior Song 14

Find the series masterlist

Here we finally are! The second to last chapter! I promise this has a happy ending and everything will be fine, because I'm a sucker for those.

Warnings: Mention of injury, medical inaccuracies, swearing, Medic is so very done, playing fast and loose with canon.

Word count: 2.4k

The first thing that registered was the pain. Your thigh throbbed in time with your too-fast heart. Your arms and chest pulsed with softer pain, like bruises in the making, or compression. From your knees down prickled with uncomfortable heat. 

You blinked, spots slowly receding from your vision, and finally looked up into an all too familiar gold visor. 

“John?” you mumbled, confused, blinking slowly up at him. Your head felt a little fuzzy. 

“Can you hear me?” He didn’t move, voice intense but low. 

“Mmhm.” You blinked again, suddenly aware of one big hand cradling the back of your head. 

“We need to move,” John said, tipping his head down a little. 

“Okay.” You breathed in as deeply as you could. You… weren’t dead. That was something of a surprise.

You’d fully expected that grenade to kill you.

John moved, lifting you and getting to his feet, your head still safely cradled against his palm. You hissed, pain flaring unexpectedly, but John didn’t stop. Just kept you held against him as he moved. 

There were a lot fewer Endless in the room than you remembered, although you couldn’t be sure how many were dead and how many had fled. Over John’s shoulder, you could see Linda taking up position behind the two of you, though everything else was a little fuzzy. The world felt a little disconnected. You could feel your body (unfortunately), you could feel all the aches and such. But it all seemed… distant. 

The Spartans were quiet as they moved, John’s helmet tipping towards you every so often, though he didn’t say anything. You blinked, tempted to look around. But trying to move your head made John huff softly at you, his grip on you still gentle but implacable. 

Clearly, you just needed to hold still. That wasn’t difficult. 

Gunshots up ahead made you jolt, and then hiss in pain as everything flared. Oh, ouch. The world was not far away, and you never wanted to move again. That hurt. 

“Don’t move,” John grunted, not even looking at you as he picked up the pace. 

“I won’t,” you grumbled, even as the pain settled a bit again. Definitely not gone, but manageable. “What’s going on?” 

But John didn’t answer, adjusting his grip on you as he moved. 

Right. He was busy. Don’t ask the guy questions when he’s busy saving your life. 

The structure lurched. You yelped, startled and once again in pain as John momentarily lost his footing, landing on one knee. 

“That’s new,” came Linda’s droll voice from behind you and John, even as John got back to his feet. 

“I think we might have moved,” Joy said through John’s helmet. “I’d need to get into the system to be sure, though.” 

“Later.” John didn’t even pause. He was determined to get out as fast as possible, apparently. 

A moment later, you understood why as light filtered into the tunnel. And then you were out, momentarily blinded by the intensity of the light. You’d hardly been in the dark inside the Halo, but this was much brighter.

Actually… this seemed brighter than you remembered. You blinked rapidly, almost idly wondering if you were losing your mind. 

But the light was definitely different. You ignored John’s warning to hold still to tip your head back, looking up. 

The nearest star seemed… closer. Maybe. 

And then the view was gone, replaced by the inside of the Pelican. John had carried you straight in and you hadn’t even noticed. You blinked again, eyes adjusting even as John set you in one of the seats and strapped you in, motions swift and confident. 

“Chief,” Fernando called back. “What the hell is going on?” 

“Joy.” John didn’t have to raise his voice. 

“Oh,” Joy murmured. You could just see the blue of her form flickering over by the controls of the Pelican. “We’re definitely closer to that star, but we’re not moving anymore.” 

“Small favors,” Fred muttered as he dropped to one knee in front of you. You blinked slowly at him. 

“We’re holding steady again now,” Joy confirmed. “I don’t think this is what Atriox meant to do.”

John shook his head once, basically dismissing the thought. “He didn’t get to finish,” he said, visor focused on you. “We need to get back to the Mortal Reverie.” 

“On it.” Fernando started the Pelican up, the ramp closing behind the lot of you. Kelly and Linda had settled in seats across the bay from you, and you blinked at them too. 

When the Pelican started moving, two pairs of hands helped brace you: John and Fred. You huffed at them.

“Not broken,” you grumbled half-heartedly. Yeah, ouch, your injuries were making themselves known again. That was not fun. But you weren’t dying. 

A shocked call of your name made your grimace. “When did you–? How–?” Fernando didn’t twist to look at you, but you could just see him look back over his shoulder once. 

“Long story,” you rasped. Now that the excitement was all over, your throat was dry, you hurt, and you wanted rather desperately to hide somewhere for a while. You were not a combatant, you were not used to this. 

John rubbed his thumb soothingly over your knee, visor still fixed on you. You grimaced when the Pelican swayed more than you liked, head pounding now too. 

Probably dehydration. You hoped it was just dehydration. You’d been gone a long time, after all. Hours, at the least. 

Hours, stuck inside the Halo, with no idea what was going on or how to stop Atriox.

You shied away from the thought, swallowing hard. Too soon. You were not touching that yet. 

“Almost there,” John murmured, soft and probably as close to reassuring as he got in the armor. 

The rest of the ride was silent, the landing a little bumpy. You winced but didn’t make a sound. 

Not that you had a chance to, anyway. No sooner had the Pelican touched down than John was unbuckling you from the seat and picking you up again, as easily as if you were a kitten. 

Fernando scrambled after him, Blue Team falling in around Fernando. You caught glimpses of others milling around, all of them brightening when they spotted Chief. He really was the best beacon of hope most of these people could ask for.

You swallowed again, feeling guilty and not sure why. 

John didn’t stop until he could set you down carefully in medical. When you looked down, you could still see the edges of the bloodstain on the floor. Someone had cleaned it up… mostly. 

“Boss!” Lindsay nearly skidded to a halt in front of you, hands out, eyes wide as she looked you over. “Shit, what happened?”

“Is Carter okay?” you croaked, really feeling the lack of water now. The bloodstain had reminded you. You didn’t know who made it.

“He’s fine.” Lindsay’s expression shuttered. “But the boss, not you the other one, was killed.”

You nodded slowly. That meant you were back in charge. Again. “I need pain tea,” you told her honestly. “Maybe burn gel, if we still have any.”

Lindsay nodded once and darted off again. You grimaced as you balanced against the makeshift exam table, leaning over to try to wrestle your boots off. 

John was there a moment later, kneeling in front of you and gently brushing your hands away to do it himself. You braced one hand on his shoulder, armor firm as a rock under you. 

“Not bad,” you muttered, more to yourself than him, looking at the newly-exposed skin. No visible burns, which probably meant that you hadn’t really gotten burned. Somehow. Probably because John had jumped on you before the grenade exploded. 

Lindsay returned with the tea, eyes still a bit wide, giving you multiple looks over. You downed the tea as fast as possible, grimacing at the taste. 

“Check for a concussion,” you told her, sitting down with a grimace. “And my ribs, just in case, although I would’ve noticed anything cracked by now.” 

Lindsay glanced at John, who had moved silently to hulk in the doorway, hands at his sides, but also very clearly not leaving.

“He’s fine,” you dismissed with a little smile. “He can stay.” 

You had a feeling even if you wanted him gone (which you didn’t), you’d have a hell of a time shouting him out. He didn’t seem to want to be far from you at all. 

Although, considering you’d almost blown yourself up when you’d blown up Atriox… you didn’t blame him. 

Lindsay confirmed no cracked ribs, no concussion, just dehydration and bruising. Frankly, you were a little shocked you’d gotten off so well.

Although, maybe “well” wasn’t the word for it. 

The CO marched into medbay, looking between you and Master Chief. “What happened?” 

“We found the Endless,” Chief reported, voice perfectly even. The room got more crowded as Blue Team stood in the hallway, Fernando pushing up ahead of them to follow the CO into the exam room. Lindsay pressed herself back into a corner, eyes huge. “Atriox has been neutralized, but we did not learn his plan.” 

Tense silence filled the room for a moment before the CO nodded, just once. “The rest of the Endless?”

“The ones that were not neutralized fled.” 

The CO nodded again, his gaze turning to you. “And you? What happened?” 

You swallowed. Hoo boy. Time to tell your side of the tale. 

You got as far as being dropped in front of Atriox when you noticed your hands were shaking. You clenched your fingers around each other, focusing your gaze on John. Just John. If you focused hard enough on him, you’d make it through.

His hands were clenched into fists, too. 

By the time you’d recounted everything, exhaustion weighed heavily on you. Nothing sounded better than curling up somewhere dark and safe to sleep for a year. 

“You… blew him up.” The CO repeated the words slowly, expression caught between astounded and bemused. 

“Rolled a grenade under him.” You shrugged and then grimaced. Ouch. Right. Strained muscles. Probably time for more pain tea. 

The CO made a helpless little noise, like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. You didn’t pay him any more attention, shifting your weight carefully before looking at Lindsay. 

“More tea?” she guessed, because she was the absolute best.

“Yeah,” you agreed on a little sigh. It was hard to drum up any kind of emotions now. You were drained. 

“And sleep,” she insisted, even as she edged carefully around the CO. 

You nodded, looking back at John. He hadn’t relaxed at all yet. He needed to get out of that armor and get some sleep too. 

“Well,” the CO finally sighed, “there’s nothing more to be done now. Any idea why the Halo moved?”

“From what I can tell, it looks like Atriox was trying to move the Halo, but he never finished putting in coordinates,” Joy said, appearing above Chief’s hand. “The Halo tried to compensate but we didn’t move far.” 

The CO nodded, brow furrowed as he considered. “Are we still moving?”

“No, sir.” Joy tucked her hands behind her back. 

“Then I guess there’s nothing to be done for now.” He sighed, shoulders slumping a little, before he looked at you. “Get some rest.” 

You nodded wordlessly - you would whether he’d told you to or not, and pretty soon it wouldn’t be a choice you made. You’d just knock out. 

The CO left, and Lindsay scurried back in with more tea. Once you’d grimaced your way through drinking that, she started to shoo you out… only to go silent when John picked you up again. 

“I’d tell you to keep off your leg, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Lindsay joked, even as John ducked out of the room.

“I’ll see you soon,” you told Lindsay in lieu of answering her teasing. It was so, so tempting to just put your head down against the armor and go to sleep. Except that would not be comfortable. Or helpful. So you resisted the urge.

You were a bit surprised Blue Team and Fernando didn’t follow you and John back to your room, but you didn’t question it. Not worth asking, not when you were about two minutes away from falling into bed. 

“You staying?” you asked John quietly as he set you down. 

“Yes.” He removed his helmet first, looking you over quickly with his own eyes. Then he turned away to take off the rest of the armor, methodical but not slow. 

You just threw your soiled clothes somewhere. That was now a later problem. Dressed in shorts and an undershirt (miraculously clean), you crawled into bed. The aches had finally faded almost entirely, and you wanted nothing more than quiet and sleep. 

John slipped into bed with you silently, warm and firm. One arm tugged you closer to him, until his head was tucked behind yours. 

“Alright there?” you asked, words already starting to slur with sleep. 

“Just fine,” he murmured. “Sleep. I’m not moving.” 

You huffed a tiny laugh at the stubborn man but your eyes closed. You were asleep in seconds. 

You probably could have slept for a week, after the last couple days.

Instead, sirens woke both you and John. He was instantly awake, already moving, swinging his legs out of bed and lunging for his armor.

You flailed out of bed with a thump and a curse. 

“Wait here,” John told you, voice once again modified just enough to tell you he had the armor on. By the time you pushed up to your feet, he was gone, door open behind him. 

Stay here, your ass.

You hobbled out after him (your thigh really fucking hurt again), jaw clenched, heart pumping hard. If the Endless were back already you were going to pick up a gun and start shooting because this was getting ridiculous and you wanted more sleep, dammit. 

You only needed to go outside to figure out what was going on, fortunately, as a group of people were standing around looking up.

You looked up too.

Ships hung over the Halo. Intact ships. Undamaged ships.

Sangheili ships.

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 1

The Embrace

Two days before the proving. Rost wants to go hunting today. I’ll enjoy his final lessons. Things will change after the proving, but I’ve got a plan for that.

Tasks for the day: hunting game for Grata, shards and blaze for fire arrows. Rost has something planned.

Ended up taking out the whole herd for practice, along with gathering the supplies Rost wanted. Took a nasty fall off a rock, hit by a Watcher blast. Blinded too. Amateur mistake.

Met a wounded man who wanted help from anyone, even an outcast. His daughter was lost and he was stuck there feeling sorry for himself, unable to pursue her. I tracked his daughter, Arana. She was stuck up on a Brave trail circled by Watchers. I took out all 4 without them seeing me. Sort of.

Arana told me she'd lost her late mother's spear in a tousle with a Scrapper. If she can't handle a few Watchers, Scrappers are out of the question. So she would return to her father, I said I'd get the spear back for her.

Bought a Tripcaster off Karst, finally. He was worried I'd leave him for merchants in Mother's Heart once I won the Proving, maybe turn him in too. Honestly, how could he think so little of me? I'm the last person that would go running to the Matriachs to complain about a few trespasses of tribal law. I'm a loyal customer too. I'll charge more for my trades once I'm a Brave, though. I have a suspicion he's been underpaying me because he knows I have no one else who'll trade with an outcast.

Got Arana’s spear back from a Scrapper. It took a long time to track, I had to cross most of the Embrace to find it. Managed to tease it away from the herd and take it out mostly from a distance. When I returned to them with the spear, she and her father were kind to me. It was…different, but nice. Thok, once I got him standing again, even helped make some structural improvements to my spear based on his mate's design.

Walked back along the bridge by the southern gate in full view of the guards and towers. Soon they won’t scorn me. Call it savouring their bitterness for the last time. The view is as beautiful as ever. The river goes on further than I can see.

Climbed the rock trail the fast way and got Grata’s prayer beads for her. No idea how she made it up there to begin with. Rested there a while.

Met Rost at the north gate and tried to sleep until dark. He seemed even less keen than usual on talking. I tried to bring up my plan for us to stay in contact once I was made a Brave. He could stay his silent, devout self while I could come to him and speak, completely one-sided. My crime only. He didn't want to listen. Doesn't matter. I'll keep bothering him whether he likes it or not.

Beyond the Embrace for the first time to hunt a machine called a Sawtooth, twice the size of a Strider and ten times as fierce, rending claws, like an oversized scraper. The huge blaze canister on its belly made an easy target, and I put my Tripcaster to good use bringing it down to shock. Good haul from the carcass. With all the fire and ruin, you’d have thought there were a stampede of the things. Apparently there were only three. I got the last one.

The tribe owe me one already. Maybe Rost is right, and they’ll need me, even be grateful to me after all this time. I don’t know if I can accept that. I haven’t really thought about what I’ll do once I know the truth about my mother. That’s what all of this has been for. Happiness beyond that? Maybe. As long as Rost is here, if silent, and the wilds continue to surprise.

[literatureloverx]

The Fairest One of All, our dear Snow White,

How have you been since we last spoke? What have you been up to? I hope you are in perfect health and good spirits! Are there any new fixations, things you've learned, or anything new you've experienced lately? I'd be happy to listen to you. :}

I am sending you lots of virtual hugs, cyberbullying you with my love. o( > ᗜ < )o ₊˚⊹♡ May your every day be a pleasant one. Knowing you, please remember to put yourself before others. You have a big heart, but even she needs to be attentively cared for, as you do for everybody else. You are so precious, Snow. I hope you know that. 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

I am aware I didn't write much to you for a while. I thought I was asking you too many questions, but I think you've answered them all already (I don't even remember them myself, so feel free to delete them if any are left). It's not easy to stay away from you. 😣 You have such a magnetic presence and a warm nature. But I don't want to overwhelm you or myself, as I believe everything is better in moderation. Let's say I'm trying to become more balanced with my interactions; I hope I'm not messing it up. I will be keeping it slow, writing once in a while. Also, I feel like it must be exhausting for you at times to reply to everyone and everything intently. Or I’m overthinking. As a fellow introvert, I guess you could have a larger social battery than I do.

I've been seeing many different and interesting anons join our cult family, and it makes me genuinely very happy!! I like reading their writing and your answers; they're stimulating. By the way, for the anon who was looking for some Fyodor fanfic, I'll recommend @/theonlyqualitytrash's blog. She writes truly amazing stuff; it was love at first sight for me to read her writing. And she's also one of the most kind and understanding people I've met here. So, I highly suggest it if they want to read something slightly long but well-structured and creative. 🥺 Speaking of cults, she has also written cult!Fyodor x reader. I don't know why I am loving this particular theme.😭

Ahem anyways—

To be honest, I know very little about astrology. Even though I myself don't really believe in it, it's fun to talk about it or to look on the internet to see what happens to match you according to your zodiac sign. It also seems like something you're interested in, and since the topic came up, I'm going to throw you some questions if that’s okay:

What are your thoughts on each zodiac sign? How would you rate your compatibility with them in general?

I'm definitely not asking because I want to see what you feel about my own sign

Sincerely yours,

-Berry

I’ve been doing fine, my dear. How about you? ♥️

I don’t have any new fixations, as my fixations tend to be very long-lasting, often lasting for multiple years.

Recently, I dreamt of a random lion on the beach, which led me to pester my brother into watching the first Narnia movie with me again because I enjoy watching movies with a companion.♥️

He agreed, but then put it off for several days because “he had things to do” (which really meant he wanted to game with his friends instead lmao). Anyway, I waited for two more days and ended up watching it alone. He randomly walked into my room, saw me watching it by myself, and got all pouty about it (serves him right, if you ask me, haha).

Thank you so much for “cyberbullying me with your love.” I’m bullying you back with my love too. ♥️ I truly appreciate your kind words, my dear Berry. Thank you, I’m doing my best! ♥️

You’re not overwhelming me, and as you’ve probably noticed, I answer asks when I feel comfortable and when I have the time. Feel free to send whatever you wish, and I’ll answer them gradually whenever I can. ♥️ Your compliments are incredibly heartwarming, but I think you might be seeing me as someone more superior than I actually am—I’m just a normal human being, like anyone else on here. You can always write to me whenever you’d like!

Children, give @theonlyqualitytrash ‘s blog some love. It definitely deserves more likes. ♥️

I’m aware that you read my astrology-related post, where I (jokingly) ranked each zodiac sign, so I’m guessing your question is more compatibility-related this time? I hope that’s okay.

I’ll consider other aspects that might theoretically be compatible with me because… I’m not someone who goes around asking people about their birth charts. So I can’t really base this on personal experience.

I’ll also take into account other aspects, not just the Sun sign, like the Moon sign (because it reveals emotional compatibility), the Venus sign (because it shows how we express love and affection), and the Mercury sign (because it relates to communication styles). I could take more aspects into consideration, but I need to keep this friendly for the people reading who aren’t as into astrology. I hope you have fun reading this! ♥️

Don’t take this too seriously (I stereotyped every single placement haha).♥️

Aries

Sun: I never had any good experiences with them… I’m sorry. It’s a no for me.

Moon: Okay, so with my Moon sign being in Libra, and Aries being Libra’s opposite/sister sign, I’ve heard this could be a good match for me. However, I have no personal evidence to support this. I do see the potential, though.

Venus: Again, Venus in Scorpio is supposed to be compatible with Venus in Aries. I’m not against it, I suppose?

Mercury: An absolute no from me, I’m sorry. What do I gain by communicating with someone who is as impulsive as an immature child? Nothing, dear children. Nothing at all.

Taurus

No need to dissect in sections. I love Tauruses in all shapes and forms, haha. (Tone down that stubbornness though, I’m begging you.)

Gemini

Sun: They are fun to be around. I like them, but the likelihood of me committing to a deeply rooted friendship or a romantic relationship with them is highly unlikely. (Unless it’s Dazai, of course. Lmao.)

Moon: A fellow Moon in an air sign. I see the potential— it could work.

Venus: Uhm… no… (We would be “you don’t own me” x “but you belong to me” haha.)

Mercury: I imagine this placement to be rather flaky, with a hyperactive communication style, which doesn’t resonate with my love to dig as deep as possible when talking about interesting topics.

Cancer

Sun: I’m optimistic. It would likely work… as long as it’s not someone who is overly, stereotypically emotional.

Moon: I’m not entirely sure, but why not? Libra and Cancer might not match directly, but I think it aligns well with my Scorpio stellium overall.

Venus: Theoretically speaking, this could definitely work. In fact, it might even feel magical.

Mercury: I think this is a great placement compatibility-wise. We could have fascinating, deep-dive conversations.

Leo

Sun: From a theoretical standpoint, it’s not a great match for me. You’re not everyone’s sunshine—you’re supposed to be my sunshine. Tch. (Though I’d probably choose the moonlight over the sunlight anyway, but that’s beside the point.)

Moon: This could actually be a good match. The thought intrigued me as I was considering it.

Venus: YES. (I love generous people.)

Mercury: To be or not to be… that is the question. In this case, Mercury Leo’s are not compatible with me.

Virgo

Sun: Theoretically speaking (yes, you’ll be hearing this often), we should get along well.

Moon: Did you lose your feelings when you were born? Quite restrained, aren’t they? Haha, just kidding, of course. In fact, I do like them.

Venus: Please no…🥺

Mercury: I find this placement rather intriguing! I can imagine us spying on people together, hahaha.

Libra

Sun: I love them as my friends. They’re so comfortable to be around, but I don’t necessarily see it as a good romantic match. However, it really depends on their other placements. For example, I could handle a Libra Sun-Scorpio Moon combo well.

Moon: My Moon-twins. ♥️ I feel like this is a very good match! We’d just be vibing together, haha.

Venus: The sign is in the right placement. For me, it would be okay… but would it be okay for the person with that placement? As a friend, yes. As a romantic partner, probably not.

Mercury: This placement seems like a very balanced form of self-expression, which I appreciate. I imagine people with this placement tend to be soft-spoken.

Scorpio

Sun: We get along very well, so it’s a definite yes from me—both platonically and romantically.

Moon: I’ve never met anyone with this placement, but I think I could handle the intensity well and even balance it out.

Venus: To whoever has this placement—same here. I know it’s rough. Let me give you a hug. Overall… YES. (Let’s be possessive of each other. ♥️) As an aside, the Libra friend I’ve mentioned also has this placement, and even in a platonic relationship, it’s amazing. I can only dream of a romantic one.

Mercury: Again, we’re one of a kind. Which I like. So, yes, again.

Sagittarius

Sun: Haha. In the most loving way possible: no. ♥️ —at least in the romantic sense. To be honest, we really don’t have much in common platonically either.

Moon: I’m not sure…

Venus: As a friend, probably fine. As a romantic partner, a definite no for me. My Scorpio stellium does not vibe with this pairing—sorry!

Mercury: Sure, why not? I’d love to have philosophical discussions with someone who has this placement. I hear they have fascinating views.

Capricorn

Sun: It’s said that Capricorn is one of the zodiac signs that pairs well with Scorpio. I can see the potential.

Moon: I’m not so sure about this one…

Venus: I think this could be a great opportunity. To be more precise, I see it working.

Mercury: YES. The cut-throat, borderline brutal style of communication because they want the best for you? Just yes.

Aquarius

Sun: YES.

Moon: My brother has his Moon in Aquarius… I’d likely avoid it if I can, haha. I may not be overly emotional, but I do sometimes need guidance. I’d probably expect that more in a romantic sense. However, as a friend, this placement is great!

Venus: Again, as a friend, very great.

Mercury: This is an excellent placement, in my (very biased) opinion, haha. I do love the intellectual tone and expression of Aquarians, particularly Mercury Aquarians.

*Malicious giggle because you wanted to know what I think about your sign, but I knowingly put it at the very end. Hehehe.*

Pisces

Sun: You have all failed me up until now, dear Pisces. It’s only going well with one of your fellow Pisces so far (and you too, of course, my dear berry). Her cardinal-sign shenanigans of not being able to control her emotions whenever they bubble up can still be frustrating, but I’m managing. Overall, as a friend—platonically, a maybe and an okay. Romantically, an ABSOLUTE no. (With all due respect, of course.) Also, I’d like to add: Pisces men have it rough in this world. Bless them.

Moon: My friend—the Libra one—is a Pisces Moon, and it works perfectly in this specific combination. Platonically speaking, I love this placement, and we’re very compatible.

Venus: Theoretically speaking, we should be compatible. But somehow, I don’t believe in this. I think it’s because most Scorpios like to be the lead and the dominant type (whether in platonic or romantic relationships), while this isn’t the case for me. I can’t treat my man as a princess—I’m very sorry. Other Scorpios love you, though, I’m sure.

Mercury: We’re likely compatible, but I wouldn’t enjoy it. Again, I don’t like to lead conversations or lose rationality in discussions altogether. I can handle it for a while, but at some point, it might get exhausting. The intuition-based conversations could be a plus, though.

[gulliblelemon]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @bigalockwood!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

22

What's your total Ao3 word count?

266,115

What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively Young Royals. 

Top five fics by kudos

See You (Soon)

Where We Left Off

Please Try Again Later

Happy 18th, Crown Prince Wilhelm

The Umbrella

(I have a whole kudos spreadsheet and watching the trends is fascinating 😉)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Well, I try to. It sometimes gets a little bit overwhelming, especially at the beginning when there's an influx. But they're all so wonderful.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I haven't written anything with an angsty ending. I don't think I have it in me 😅

(Unless you count one shots in a series, in which case it's What Am I Going To Do? But that's part of a whole universe that does have a happy ending, so I'm not counting it - although when I posted there was no promise of a continuation of the story, so it was angsty for a while).

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All my fics have happy endings. But I think they all feel like it's a happy ending to that particular part of their story, and will go on to be more after.

Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't as of yet. I still can't really believe that's a thing that happens.

Do you write smut?

No. And the longer I go on, the more I wonder if I should. But then again, I wrote a whole fic that was basically about hooking up without it, so maybe I'll be fine never writing it.

Craziest crossover

I've never written a crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I had The Umbrella translated into Russian and uploaded to ficbook.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

All time favourite ship?

Wilmon.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a folder full of WIP documents, most of which are just a line or a few sentences scribbled down. Some scenes, some ideas. I doubt they'll all get written, but lots get pulled for other things. And Wille's Month made me dust some of them off and either expand on them or just publish as they were.

But as for actual WIPs that I'm actively working on, I haven't got one that I don't think I'll finish. Once I start, I kind of get to the end by whatever means necessary 😅 Even if it takes me ages.

What are your writing strengths?

Erm... horrible question 😅. Dialogue? Maybe? I don't know. Someone else would have to answer that for me. I think I have a very skewed view of my own writing based on what I do and don't like doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Also horrible question, for very different reasons. Repetition probably. When I have something I just need to get down, I stop paying as much attention to how I'm saying things (what words I'm using, how I'm structuring sentences etc). But luckily @iwouldnevergetintofanfic is pretty good at catching it.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It depends. I am not fluent, or even passable really, in any languages other than English. I'm not averse to dropping the odd word in, but in general I write the English translation (since they're speaking in Swedish anyway). I also discovered that the grammar rules are different, so ended up changing a load of stuff back to English in one fic because I wasn't sure which grammar rules to use.

First fandom you wrote in?

Young Royals.

Favourite fic you've written?

I don't know. I like certain ones for different reasons.

Where We Left Off was a massive undertaking. It's over twice as long as the next longest thing I've written (still not long by 'long fic' standards) and I was writing it for nearly a year. (And I'm not sure I'll ever write something that long again, that's not really how my brain works).

See You (Soon) was the first one where I felt like I knew what I was doing, and I think I will always be very fond of it.

I loved the process of writing Making Music, because it was a gift for a dear friend @purplehoodiesandclementines.

But I love them all in different ways 💜

No pressure tags for @unfortunate17, @enjoythesilentworld and @peakotp (and anyone else seeing this that wants to answer - I love reading these. I'll even retroactively tag you if you want!).

[anneapocalypse]

They’re all pretty related, so in case you want to merge or skip some: I’m curious about 9, 20, 21, and 22 for 🔥 choose violence 🔥

For the 🔥choose violence 🔥 ask game!

Disclaimer: provocative name aside, I am not actually trying to be mean here, these are just my opinions offered for Entertainment Purposes™️, and I’m not mad at anyone who has a different opinion.

9. worst part of canon

The lack of forethought about representation when the series began. The first game was like, "Seven skin tints! The dark ones looks Bad in our engine! Your family is white no matter what! Brown people are from Over There somewhere! Asians????" Since then, I think the games have each improved on that situation, with increasingly better character creators, more diverse companions, and a more diverse world generally. But I think that there's still a lot lacking, and part of that is because the first installment laid a pretty weak foundation, so all subsequent canon is having to correct for better representation rather than building on a strong start. A few big things I would love to see in DA:D are a better variety of hair textures and styles, a better variety of Asian features in the CC, and more Asian (coded) characters in the world generally since that's an area where it's really been lacking. (Lighting that doesn't wash out medium skin tones to ghosts wouldn't hurt either 😉 but when it comes to video game lighting I assume that we'll just be trading one problem for another. I look forward to experiencing a New Problem.)

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

Inquisition's Too Many Collectibles. I don't mind collectibles, especially when there's an actual reward for collecting them, but Inquisition just has too many. Was it really necessary for us to discover landmarks and regions? Like, could those not have been the same thing? It's fun to treasure hunt and everything but did we need to hunt for astrariums and shards and mosaic tiles and bottles? None of those things are bad on their own, but there's such a thing as Too Much, and I think Inquisition crosses that line somewhere.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Marrying Alistair to become Queen! Like, that's fine if that's the ending you want. Me, I've romanced Alistair multiple times and I've never felt like becoming Queen Cousland was like, the Ultimate Ending to that story. My first ever Warden, Jolene, was a Cousland who romanced Alistair, and while I'd watched Mr. Apocalypse play parts of the game, I was unspoiled for the romance, so I wasn't gunning for any particular ending, and because Alistair clearly didn't want to be king and because he seemed so uncertain of what would happen to their relationship (despite her being a perfectly valid candidate for queen), Jo ended up deciding to let Anora keep the throne and ride off into the sunset with Alistair. I wanted a happy ending for that first run and to me, that seemed the happiest for both of them.

Since then I've also done a tragic Alistair romance with an Aeducan, who starts out a real asshole and has kind of a redemption arc as a Warden, culminating in her giving Alistair the throne because she believes it's his destiny, and sacrificing herself to kill the archdemon because she knows she can never be his queen. I loved that one too! It was so juicy.

I'm not opposed to Queen Cousland or anything, I just remember a time when it was so venerated as the ending for Origins. Really, I just don't think of any outcome in an RPG that way. What I enjoy is exploring all the possibilities.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Once again, consider "everyone" to be a bit hyperbolic, but I am really, really interested in the politics of the setting, something I think maybe a lot of fans consider to be boring or "not that deep." 😂 Dragon Age does not always handle its power and oppression narratives perfectly, for sure, but I also think a lot of the worldbuilding shows a level of understanding of structural power that it maybe doesn't always get credit for. When a group is marginalized in this setting we can identify actual systemic barriers to social advancement for that group, not just "people being mean" on an individual level like you sometimes see in lazier narratives. Orlais isn't just fancier and snootier than Ferelden; it actually has more barriers to upward mobility in place! Society is more stratified, and power is more concentrated, even though both nations are monarchies.

I love the fantasy politics--of people in day to day life, of factions, of nations, of religion. I love it because, at its best, Dragon Age does have some interesting things to say about the nature of power. It's easy to say "Chantry bad" or "nobility bad," but to me it's much more interesting to explore why these institutions function the way they do, the ways in which they concentrate power, and the means they employ to keep it. And controversial statement, maybe, but you can't effectively explore the politics of revolution and social change without understanding the structures you're trying to change. Sera's right about one thing: it's not as simple as just lopping off the top.

[unanswered-stars]

From the Writer's Question Game thingy :> 🍓🌵🧃🪐🍬🔪🥐🏜️☁️🌸🧩

Ho! I put so many lol. I warned you, I'm nosy xD.

Ahhh thank you so many I hope my answers are sufficient!

🍓 - I must credit @acourtofladydeath and her fic All Things End for bringing me to fanfiction in the first place. I read that fic multiple times before I was able to read anything else. This is not fanfiction it is life changing and that is simply a fact.

Quickly fell into the rabbit hole of Azris on ao3 and came across @the-moth-writes Heaven Help The Fool Who Falls in Love and I simply could not get it out of my head and had commented “oh it would be so fun if you …..” and it wasn’t till I was reading @futurehunt A Court of Shadows and Ash and I finally made an account so I could properly comment and interact and I was still stuck on the story idea I had, so I reached out to @the-moth-writes and asked if I could continue her story to which she graciously said yes.

Once I started writing I just couldn’t stop. I was always a big reader and writer growing up and was intending to major in English in college but I had a terrible professor when I was in a college class duel enrolled as a high school student and they absolutely tore my writing apart and I instead got a degree in Religious Studies and BSN. I have not written anything for fun until now and I am so sad that I did not start sooner but I am so happy to be writing again.

🌵 - so all of the playlists that I listen to are self made on my personal Spotify so I don’t want to share those but I will say my 4yo is obsessed with @chunkypossum playlist for Between Us. The amount of dance shows I have watched to this playlist at this point are innumerable.

🧃I was a antapartal/postpartum (pregnant/after you have your baby) nurse and aside from my children it is what I am truly most passionate about in life and I could talk all things pregnancy, birth, postpartum, and home birth for days 👀

🪐 1. Getting my joy back for writing

2. This is going to sound so silly but my kids have been so cool recently just learning so many new skills and just love watching them explore the world and become their own little person.

3. My sister will be back stateside in a few weeks and I am thrilled to have her living by me again!

🍬 - ahhh Rhys where to start with this guy. @jules-writes-stories honestly said it really well here. Half of the CoN gets killed immediately under Amarantha’s reign and then on his return to the Hewn City for the first time post occupation that is how he decided to approach it? Enough said. He’s been HL for at least 200years and I feel like he has nothing to show for it. That is not even touching on the infantalization and sexualization of Feyre. I could write paragraphs on this man but I shan’t waste my breath.

If you want to see me hot take on Majda look here

🔪 - fanfic: how large can a treehouse be while also being structurally sound. This then turned into a multiple day rabbit hole of looking through photos of the most magical treehouse in the world.

Nursing school pt patho paper: cockroach in vagina. I needed to know how many other times this happened and that I wasn’t the only one scarred by this. 🤢

🥐 - Brennan from Game Changer/Dimension 20 monologuing abut literally anything. Sauron but it’s Trump is probably my personal fav.

🏜️ - I talked about this is my previous two posts and this one is getting long 🙃

☁️ - sometimes I make up stories for my kids as bedtime and bring in a little realism and my oldest was asking me about wishing on stars and I said something along the line that sometimes the stars will answer you back and answer your wish and sometimes your wishes go unanswered. Not because one wish is better than another but sometime we just have to figure out our wishes on our own journey. We now have a little story about what happens to all the stars of unanswered wishes = Unanswered Stars

🌸 - I do not have any currently but we had many cats and dogs growing up. Truth be told I actually do not like pets. I know I know please don’t burn me. I’m allergic to dogs and cats, they both cause my chronic migraines to flare up. I also killed my two pet fish I owned growing up. Both accidentally. One because I over fed it and the other because we went on vacation and I forget to have someone feed it so it starved…

I know I’m the worst I’m sorry.

I would get an outside pet should my children ask.

🧩 - I answered this one here

Thank you so much for sending in these questions! I love answering all of these. If you want to join, the list of questions can be found here!

[daisys-reality]

hii, hope you're doing well <3 I wanted to ask for a reading if that's alright? I've been on my journey for awhile, but I've been more focused on self-concept and manifestation rather than shifting to specific drs, yk? buutt, my goal is to shift before school starts again!! But anyways, here's my question!!

what changes should I make in my mindset to benefit my shifting journey?

Heyy @4nthonyyliving 🧡🦋 I'm feeling better now and yes, I can do a reading for you!

What changes should you make (mindset-wise) to progress in your shifting journey?

You are generally resourceful and can juggle the ups and downs of life or of your journey but if you’re not careful things might turn out too much to handle and end up overwhelming you, making you unable to do anything at all and leaving you in a mess you never intended. You might be feeling overwhelmed right now due to a number of competing priorities(ex. not knowing what to do first - like shifting to XYZ first, focusing on managing your private life, working on your self concept first or manifesting your desired CR life etc.). You may be struggling with making decisions or finding it difficult to stay focused on anything for long.

It might be necessary to make solid decisions, now that you’re facing your situation because in order to overcome this, it seems to be important to readjust your focus and to set up a (more or less) structured plan on how to work on this (including setting boundaries!). Another essential aspect is to stay grounded, it will help you to focus on what’s truly important in your life right now. Sometimes, when you go all in, it increases the pressure and makes you feel overwhelmed, unstable and stressed! So, don’t take on too many things at once as this will only lead to further chaos and imbalance. Overextending yourself or neglecting your needs won’t help you either. Minimize your focus on just two or one thing at a time, and choose something that is fulfilling to you. Take small first steps into a direction that you feel drawn towards and then build from there, okay?

You’re also not trusting your intuition enough, you may be feeling like something is off but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Take some time for yourself out from others and tune into your intuition, ex. through practicing self care, meditation, reading, creative activities, journaling (to express your feelings and to gain some insight about yourself and the things that drive you) or just through focusing on your needs and on what makes you happy to get the clarity you need.

Another thing I feel the need to talk about is that you should be careful with depending (emotionally) too much on this ‘one thing’ once you make a decision on what to prioritize because you’re being warned against reacting emotionally to a situation that needs to be approached ‘dispassionately’ so to say. It seems like some feelings of heartbreak/disappointment/frustration might still linger around. Try to accept your loss, release the pain and those feelings/emotions, and move on with the past behind you. It could be the case that you’re projecting your fears onto others or perhaps onto the universe! It is important to remember that you are in control of your own happiness and that by working on yourself, you will feel more in charge of your own life instead of feeling like you need someone or something else in order to succeed and to feel good. By making this shift in mindset, you will feel more empowered and able to make those important decisions which ultimately help you to get to where you desire to be.

Remember that change is always possible, no matter how stuck you might feel right now.

[marigoldispeculiar]

How Do I Plan Tag

Many thanks to @elizaellwrites for tagging me! I think I've answered this before but I don't really remember... hopefully I'm not too repetitive here lol. It's a topic I really enjoy talking and hearing about.

How do you plot your writing out?

I usually develop my stories in bits and pieces over long-ish periods of time, so I always make sure to write down ideas as I have them. I have one document for all my undeveloped story ideas where I write down the premise and anything about it I can think of off the top of my head. Then when I want to develop a plot, I take everything I wrote about the idea and put it in its own document.

I try to start broadly, figuring out how I want the story to end, what I want the overall arc to be and how the story should be structured. I don't necessarily use conventional structures, but I try to be mindful of how tension is going to be distributed across the story.

I then start populating the outline with the details that I already wrote down, and start trying to connect the dots. This is part is tricky for me because sometimes I'll get to this stage and realize that I don't actually want to write the story I'm outlining. If I'm not vibing with it, I'll abandon it, but I'll keep all the work I did in case I want to come back to it again someday.

The outlining stage is also when I most need feedback from friends and family. When I see two different paths the story could go down and can't make up my mind, or when I'm hung up on a little detail, I find it's really helpful for me to hear what other people think. I also try to take my time at this stage and let the good ideas percolate for a while.

My goal is to have an outline so detailed that it's effectively my first draft. Then, when I actually start writing the story, I have something to keep me on track and track my progress. Sometimes I'll change the outline as I write, though, if I find I'm getting stuck or if I naturally hit a beat at a different moment than expected. When I get stuck it's almost always because there's a problem with the outline. As I write I also keep a list of things I know I need to go back and address so I know to look for them when I'm editing.

What's your favourite part of the writing process?

It may sound strange since I use such detailed outlines, but I love discovering the story as I write it. I kinda view my outlines as armature wire; I would really struggle if I was given a lump of clay and told to make a sculpture with it, but with the armature in front of me, I can focus on adding mass and detail to the underlying structure until I'm happy with it. I love fleshing out my stories and watching meaning emerge from all the tiny decisions I make as I write!

I also really like publishing, even if it's only to AO3. There's something so freeing about releasing a story and finally being unburdened from it. Whether it's good or bad, once a story is out there it gets to belong to other people and it doesn't have to be my problem anymore.

No-pressure tagging @sunset-a-story, @writeintrees, @btranscrolls, and @concerningwolves, as well as anyone else who'd like to answer this!

[renuked]

Location, Location, Location - Trench

The Commonwealth is known for many things. Industry, history, beauteous shores, beans... Even after nuclear fire thoroughly bathed the area in its mutative glow, it remains a fascinating landscape. In the intervening decades between 2077 and 2277, survivors have gathered, recuperated, and rebuilt. They marked their legacies upon the wasteland with their settlements, some thriving into towns and cities.

Among the inhabited remnants of the old world, there stand a few pillars upon which the future of the Commonwealth was built. Surrounding these, too, are settlements that maintain the structure and provide for the region. Today, of all these places, we shall be looking at;

Trench

In the early days after the war, the Commonwealth was (to be quite frank) a radioactive hellscape. The few who survived managed by staying underground in metro tunnels, sewers, caves, or anywhere shielded from the lingering poison.

Thankfully, as time went on, the radiation lessened and lessened. When people emerged, they had to face a still-harsh new world. Filled with new fauna, flora, and challenges. For many, it was a return to our primitive roots. Hunters and gatherers. Scavengers and survivalists.

It was in 2082, that a nomadic cluster of people came upon the devastation of their old home. A crater blasted into the middle of Cambridge. Despite this harrowing sight, they decided to settle there for a time. Occupying what few buildings still stood around the edge of the pit, assuming they'd scavenge what little was around and then leave.

Again, however, time went on. They found the buildings easy to defend from, whenever a wandering raider or feral ghoul came by. When the rains came, though, the crater would fill... With a little ingenuity, the survivors rigged a collector in the crater (to stock their provisions for their inevitable departure). They found, again, that as water gathered... the soil became enriched enough to sustain small crop gardens. Shelter, food, water... Their needs were being met. Their nomadism came to an end and they firmly planted roots.

Eventually, the draw of this crater brought more survivors. Then more. Soon, they had the lucky break of an engineer joining their burgeoning settlement. They led teams to build shacks and scaffolds and walkways. By the time the Vaults opened in 2102, Trench had become an official settlement.

To an outsider, it looks simply like a crater crowned with a ring of homes -- set in steps like Incan terrace farms -- with small gardens and a central basin. But, in actuality, Trench is a true testament to the strength and will of mankind and their capacity to rebuild, even in the harshest of conditions.

Afterword

So, this is the first of a series of posts I plan to do. Over time, I'll be making more little snippets like this that focus on one location. I initially thought of having a handful of locations in each post... but that idea quickly burned up, because I'd either have long posts that drag on-and-on, or I'd give very little attention to each individual location so that I can fit all three in.

As such, this is my happy medium. One location per post, with a nice little snippet about the location. Whether that be its story, purpose, or place in the Commonwealth.

Speaking more on the topic at hand, however;

Trench is a prime example of what I want to do with Fallout 4's locations. Originally, the Cambridge Crater was just a spot where you could find some feral ghouls and... not much else. So, I reworked it into something more interesting. In a way, it's similar to Megaton but without the threat of nuclear annihilation in the middle of town. A crater is a good place to establish a settlement. It's defensible, water naturally gathers there, the exposed soil would be good for farming, and it's surrounded by good salvage material.

Of course, I'll address once concern I'm sure will be raised. Radiation. Wouldn't a bomb crater have tons of radiation? Well... it depends. Fallout has had a lot of inconsistencies when it comes to how rads work. How long it lingers, how strong it is, etc. For ReNuked, I'm establishing a baseline, which I'll lay out here (and in a separate post another time) alongside the intention of the baseline;

1 - Radiation loses potency over time - unless it's being replenished.

A good example would be Trench. It was highly irradiated when the bombs dropped and created the pit. However, by the time the settlers found it, the radiation had dissipated. But, if there was a nearby reactor leaking waste into the crater, then it'd still be irradiated for as long as the reactor is leaking into it. This is intended to explain why some areas are highly radioactive, while others aren't.

2 - Radiation lasts longer when absorbed by living cells.

When rads have been absorbed into the cells of something, it becomes self-sustaining. The radioactive cells multiply, mutate, and keep the rads around. This serves to explain why radiation lingers in people, creatures, and so on.

3 - Food is radioactive due to preservatives, while water is irradiated due to debris and exposure.

Pre-War foods are, naturally, radioactive. To be expected when exposed to nuclear blasts. But, why are they still edible after 200 years? Why are they still radioactive? The answer to both (in Renuked) is; Pre-War companies introduced a series of preservatives that kept the food edible for... practically forever. Did it trash their nutritional value? Absolutely. Do the chemicals react with radiation to prolong said radioactivity? You bet your sweet bippy. Are Fancy Lad Snack Cakes the best snack cake on the market? Our marketing department says yes... so yes.

Water, on the other hand, is a trickier horse to handle. In the early days of a nuclear apocalypse, water is a valuable commodity. It's essential to life and becomes a rare sight when society has collapsed. Why does it become rare, however? Well... water itself doesn't become rare. Clean water does. Debris, radioactive dust, radiation waves, etc. all sink into rivers, lakes, oceans, and reservoirs... rendering them clouded with filth and cell-melting rads.

---

I'm hoping that this baseline will allow me to keep radiation consistent within ReNuked. And, of course, the baseline is not exhaustive. There are likely things I haven't thought of, yet. So, this will evolve over time. But, I digress.

I think that's about everything for Trench. It's not a city like Diamond City or a town like Megaton. It's more of a settlement. They live, they farm, they trade with travelling merchants. You won't find an inn, a store, or a bar. Just people trying to survive and -- maybe with some time and dedication -- thrive.

[takivvatanga]

review.

It’s ok to ask for help!

says the poster on the wall, in a room like so many others. Assire is no longer intimidated by rooms like this one. Two chairs, sometimes three. A table. The carpet patterned, a little bit threadbare. Water cooler in the corner. Sometimes there’s even plastic cups. Today, there’s none. It doesn’t matter. She’s not thirsty. A box of tissues on the table, right in the centre. In case you need to cry. Assire has set herself the challenge to never, never cry in one of these rooms, in front of one of the endless strings of people whose names she never remembers, but who are always so glad to meet her. Why do people say that, she wonders. Why say that when everyone knows that this is work, that she is work,nothing more than a name and a number written on a government form, an entry in a database, a bunch of papers in a file.  

“Assire? Are you listening to me?”

The teenager looks up, startled. There are dark circles under her eyes. Assire nods briefly, folds her hands in her lap.

“You look very tired.”

“I’m fine.” 

She tries to fake a smile, fails miserably. She’s never been good at pretending.

“I’m just… it’s hard. To be alone.”

It is, in fact, the hardest thing she has ever done.

Assire is not used to being alone. Back in the Community, there were always others. Her sisters, her parents, the other families. She remembers having meals at the big hall, the children at their own table, separated from the adults. She remembers the noise, the cramped space, sitting shoulder to shoulder between Jovanna and Cecilia, with Eviva curled up on her lap, a curly-haired toddler with chubby cheeks and sauce stains on her shirt. She remembers standing up, way up on the stage, holding her sisters’ hands while their voices soared, remembers the people below growing misty-eyed, their hands raised towards the skies. Like angels, people used to say. Those sisters sing like angels.

There’s a pub across from the boarding house where she now stays. They have concerts sometimes. In the summer, they open all the windows, the music drifting across the road and into her room. They are popular songs that people in the pub sing along with, rowdy and out of key, more shouting than singing. Assire doesn’t know the words, doesn’t recognise the melodies. Sometimes she tries to hum a harmony but she can never find the right key.

The woman’s name is Penny. At least Assire thinks so. Or is it Jenny? She has short blonde hair and reading glasses on a colourful lanyard. Her nails are painted red, perfectly shaped, not too long, not too short. Assire is ashamed of her own hands, dry and cracked, nails bitten almost to the quick. Penny’s (Jenny’s?) hands move quickly, clicking the pen, writing something down on an official looking form.

Assire can just make out the words Unsupported Youth - REVIEW printed along the top.

“Young people like you often feel lonely. You’re dealing with a lot, Assire. I want you to know that you don’t have to do it all on your own.”

It’s ok to ask for help!

But I do. I don’t have anyone else.

She nods again, smoothing out the folds in her sweatshirt. It’s too big for her, the colours are dull, washed out. The hem is starting to fray. She’s going to need to apply for a clothing allowance soon.

“Tell me about school.”

Assire’s eyes light up at the word, even though her body language remains guarded. She loves school and at the same time she loathes it. It is another world, full of discoveries, of surprises, but it’s not without danger. It is here that the feeling of not belonging, of being somehow displaced in a world that she can never quite make sense of is the most acute.

“It’s fine.”

“Your grades are very good.”

“I just like learning things.”

It is an understatement. Every day there is something new, another layer of lies that she used to believe peeled back. The earth is round, and it wasn’t created in seven days. Assire marvels at history, at geography, at biology. Literature made her feel guilty, at first. She never thought that such books, dealing with such matters could exist and that people should not only read them but discuss them so openly. Of course, she never joins the discussion, for fear of sounding stupid, of going red in the face, of stumbling over her words, of giving away the fact that she is, for lack of a better way of phrasing it, not from this world.

But it isn’t at literature that Assire excels – it’s mathematics. “Maths will likely be a struggle for you”, she was told when she started. “Given that you’ve always been a homeschooler. On such a restricted curriculum, too. You have a lot of material to catch up on.” In the end, she did much more than just catch up. She can’t explain how exactly it happened, it is as if she is being strung along on an invisible thread that runs between the numbers, the operations, a delicate web that Assire delights in untangling. Numbers don’t care where you came from, what you know of society, of people, of human nature. Numbers are absolute, perfect, logical. Numbers are black and white. Assire is good at black and white. She’s always been taught to think in absolutes.

“I’m trying for a scholarship. For university.”

As soon as she has said it, she feels stupid. The teenager looks up, furtive, half expecting Penny (Jenny?) to laugh at her. But she only smiles before writing something else down on her form.

“That’s fantastic, Assire. A really, really good idea. What do you want to study? Have you thought about that?”

Assire shrugs, feels her cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.  

“I really like… I don’t know. IT. I’ve been teaching myself a few things, just in the library.” ”What kind of things?”

Assire inhales sharply, her eyes growing wide. Is she in trouble? Should she have said that? Is this something bad, something wrong, something forbidden? She shifts in her seat, suddenly on edge.

“Just a few things nothing bad I swear! Just… a bit of C, Basic, Java. Languages. Honestly I’m not doing anything wrong I’m just-“

“Assire. It’s fine. I’m glad you’re doing something productive in your spare time. Something you enjoy.”

Penny (Jenny?) smiles a reassuring smile, reaches out to touch Assire’s arm with a reassuring gesture but thinks better of it when she sees the way the girl’s face closes, the way her body seems to fold in on itself as she flinches away from the touch.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re safe, alright?”

“I’m okay.” Assire repeats. “I’m okay.”

“I don’t really know much about computers”, Penny (Jenny?) shrugs, twirling her pen between her fingers. An attempt to lift the mood. “It’s all a bit too complicated for me. Nothing wrong with pen and paper.”

“I think technology is important. Like, really important. For everyone.” Assire covers her mouth with her hand as soon as she says it. “Sorry. I… That was rude of me.”

“Not rude in the slightest. I think it’s really important that you speak your mind. You know. Have an opinion, and not be afraid to express it.”

It’s Assire’s turn to shrug. She wants to know why this is important. It’s not like she talks to anyone anyway. Beyond the people she meets in rooms just like these, of course.

“How are you getting on with, you know. Making friends. What we talked about last time.”

Of course. Of course it had to come down to this. Making friends. All Assire knows is that making friends is most definitely not her forte. She never knows what to say, how to behave, who to be. She is endlessly awkward, her mind full of thoughts that she doesn’t dare voice, ideas that she doesn’t dare share.  

“Good. Yeah, really good.”

Penny (Jenny?) gives her a look, over the rim of her glasses, sharp and more than just a little annoyed. She’s been working with young people for a long time and knows exactly when she is being lied to.

Better than you have tried, sweetheart.

“Don’t lie, Assire. Please. You’re better than that. Listen, you’re not in trouble. This… this talk isn’t about getting you in trouble. I’m not sitting here expecting you to answer my questions a certain way. All I want to know is how you’re getting on. Honestly. So I can find a way to support you. Do you know how many kids we get trying to get onto Unsupported Youth every month? A hell of a lot. Do you know how many can maintain it? Bugger all. Because it’s a lot to ask of a teenager, all these rules and all these appointments, keeping a roof over their head, keeping up with schoolwork, budgeting… I mean, you know how it is. And most kids, well, they don’t have to learn how to do all of these things first. They’re not trying to understand what is basically another world on top of everything else.”

“I’m not lying I’m just… I’m just…” This is a losing battle, and Assire knows it.

“I’m… I just need some time. I want to focus on school. And work. Other people… it’s too much.”

I’m too different.

“Can I… can I please go now? I got a paper due that I need to finish, and I got work tonight.”

“Sure. Would you like a ride home?”

”No. No thank you. I’ll walk.”

“Alright.”

Assire, visibly relieved, pulls on her jacket, picks up her backpack. The weight of the books stashed inside is solid, comforting. Something real, something to ground her. The girl takes care to push her chair close to the table, brushes a strand of greasy curls off her face as she makes her way to the door. She stops with her hand on the handle, casts a quick glance back over her shoulder.

“... Penny?”

“It’s Jenny. But never mind that, I been called much worse I can assure you. What is it?”

This time, Assire’s smile is genuine. It’s small, timid, tightlipped, awkward as anything, but it is there and it is real. 

“Thank you.” 

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

even as a shadow, even as a dream pt.1

Pairing: Vamp!Eddie Munson/F!Reader; Vamp!Eddie Munson/You

Summary: Eddie wakes up in the Upside Down, and he is not the same. (Eddie POV)

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: vamp!eddie munson, angst, mild body horror, blood cravings, feelings of self-loathing, adult language

A/N:  I apologize in advance for any pain this causes lol but this idea would just not leave me alone. Also, I was too lazy to come up with a new "reader" backstory, so I'm keeping "Obi" from my previous two fics. You don't have to read those to understand this one, but I consider this fic an alternate to "i can't carry it for you, but i can carry you." Namely, what would have happened if reader went with Lucas and Max instead of Dustin and Eddie? On a final note, I think this fic will be three parts, and each part will switch POVs between Eddie and Reader. (But there will be an eventual happy ending don't worry.)

Also, title take from this quote if anyone's curious:

Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream. -- Euripides

Anyway, hope you enjoy! <3

Ao3 Link: Here 

Pt. 2 Links: Tumblr / Ao3

Update: This fic is now completed.

Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!

Hunger.

That was the first thing he was aware of. The only thing. It was sharp. It burned. It hurt. Everywhere, always, like needles in his skin. Like teeth.

Hunger, sharp as a blade. Overwhelming hunger. Hunger neverending.

It was his only sense, the only thing he could feel. He was deaf and blind and naked in the dark, the void of his hunger swallowing everything else. He wasn’t even aware of his body until the first drop of cold, thick liquid hit his tongue.

Then he suddenly had hands. Fingers that were clutching something limp and leathery to his mouth. He had a mouth, too, apparently. And a tongue. And teeth he was using to tear into the flesh of… something.

It didn’t matter what it was. What it had been. All that mattered was the liquid he was slurping from its body, loudly, hungrily. It was both delicious and disgusting in turns, made his stomach churn with nausea and then delight. Too soon, the thing was empty, drained dry, but that didn’t matter, either. He just moved on to the next thing, and the next. He drained them each dry.

It wasn’t until the third body, or maybe the fourth, that the word bat fluttered through his mind.

On the sixth body, the next word came. Blood.

He was drinking blood.

Except… that wasn’t right. The liquid coating his hands, his mouth, sliding down his tongue, was black, pitch-black. It was cold, too. And blood should be warm, should be…

Red.

The color flashed through his mind— a red sky, streaked with lightning— but it was gone just as quickly.

Didn’t matter. These words didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the pit still gaping inside him.

Hungry. He was still so hungry.

Suddenly, a smell. He realized he had a nose just as it twitched, and then he was bombarded all at once.

Something rank and musty, leathery, decaying, with just a hint of metal. This was the most overwhelming scent, and as he blinked his eyes for what felt like the first time, his surroundings came into focus. Piled all around him were crumpled shapes, their dark flesh merging with the shadows.

Bats. The word flickered through his mind again. He was surrounded by dozens of bats, or their carcasses at least. One was still clutched in his hands, its cold, coagulated, too-thick blood slowly dripping down his chin.

But then, that scent again. Sweet. Pulsing. Alive.

He was moving before he realized it, crawling over the bats, staggering to his feet. Everything hurt, hunger stabbing at him from the inside, nearly driving him to his knees once more. But that smell… he needed to get to it. Needed to consume it.

And it was coming from the shadows beneath one of the crumbling structures around him.

Trailer. Another useless word.

Because now the scent was closer. Closer. Something skittered, nails rasping on asphalt. He was right on top of it.

Lunging out, he grabbed something soft, and it squealed, thrashing, in his grasp. He snarled as he yanked the thing to his mouth, and he sank his teeth through coarse fur until…

Blood. Hot as a brand, it poured into his mouth, washing over his tongue. The bat blood had been enough to get him upright, but this blood…

Groaning, he pulled it into his mouth like a man starved. Because he was. But the hunger aching through his bones was an animal, rabid, feral… fading. He didn’t realize it at first, but with every desperate swallow, the hot liquid was coating the razor-sharp hunger seated deep in his belly. Not completely, but enough that his mind slowly began to return, bit by bit.

By the time he drained the thing dry and pulled it away from his mouth, he recognized it as a racoon. And when he looked up, he recognized the shadowed trailer in front of him as the Littens’, who lived down the road.

But then he caught sight of his reflection in the trailer’s window. Caught sight of the dark smear of his mouth, dripping with blood. The flash of his too-white, too-long teeth. The dark pits of his eyes, surrounded by black veins. The twin and curving shadows looming over his back.

A beat passed, then two…

Eddie Munson started screaming.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Come on, wake up, wake up, goddamnit!” Eddie whimpered as he smacked his balled up fists into his forehead, like he could punch himself awake.

Then the smell of his hands— of the blood on them— reached his nose, and it made his stomach churn and his mouth salivate for very different reasons.

He pulled his hands away from his face, making a sound caught somewhere between a groan and a gag. His breathing was uneven, rapid, shaky. He felt on the verge of passing out.

Maybe… maybe if he passed out, he would wake up from this nightmare. Dream logic, right? Because that’s all this was. A nightmare. Just a terrible, godawful nightmare.

But fuck, he’d never felt this hungry in a dream before. He had never felt hungry in a dream at all. But now hunger was sitting in his belly like a molten rock, smoldering. It wasn’t as all-consuming as it had been, but it was still there, always present, clinging to him like a shadow.

Minutes ticked by while he crouched there on his heels with his brow pressed to his knees, but he could feel that hunger growing stronger again with each passing second. There was also a dull persistent pain throbbing in his teeth, like a headache.

Eddie also couldn’t remember ever feeling pain in a dream before.

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t a dream, a nightmare. Maybe… maybe this was a Vecna trance?

“Shit!” Eddie jolted to his feet, glancing around frantically, but he didn’t account for the extra weight on his back. He stumbled, feeling his shoulder blades shift, followed by a brush of something soft and leathery against his neck, his cheek.

He flinched, and his stomach churned again for yet another reason.

“Don’t think about it, Munson, just don’t fucking think about it,” Eddie muttered to himself, voice tinged with hysteria.

But it was kind of hard not to think about the fucking wings sprouting out of his back. The weight of them was like a yoke, and they twitched and moved without his permission, always flickering in the corners of his vision.

Vecna. This had to be Vecna. Right?

Red— what was her name? Max— hadn’t mentioned being turned into a… a monster in her visions, but maybe Vecna was upping the ante? They had been trying to kill him after all.

“Fuckkk,” Eddie whined as he wrapped his arms around himself, cupping his elbows. His eyes darted around again, but nothing had changed since he’d folded in the middle of the road and tried to slap himself awake.

The Upside Down reflection of his trailer park stood around him, covered in vines and the bodies of demo-bats. He tried not to look at their carcasses scattered across the asphalt. Tried not to remember how they tasted, even though the acrid flavor of their blood still sat on the back of his tongue.

Either way, they were dead. That was the important thing. They couldn’t hurt him.

All at once, Eddie recalled the sensation of the demo-bats tearing him to pieces. Their teeth and claws rending his flesh, spilling his blood. The pain had been terrible. He remembered how it felt to choke on his own blood…

“Wait!” Eddie gasped, grabbing at the front of his shirt.

When he looked down, he saw his Hellfire shirt was shredded, the white stained scarlet, the devil’s face in ribbons. He shoved the ruined mess of fabric up and out of the way and found…

An even worse mess.

“Oh, what the fuck?” Eddie whimpered as he stared down at his chest.

His whole torso was coated in blood, but it was all dried, flaking off in patches. And his injuries— the damage done by the demo-bats— were… scarred over. Instead of gaping wounds was ropy scar tissue, crisscrossing his skin in chaotic patterns. Some of the scars looked more healed than others, some were still tender when he poked them, and as Eddie continued to stare, he could have sworn he saw the tail end of a slash mark on his sternum stitch fully closed…

“Nope!” Eddie whipped his head up. He was starting to hyperventilate again. He reflexively lifted his hand to chew on his thumbnail— a bad habit he’s had since childhood— but he froze when a sharp claw pressed into his bottom lip. He dropped both hands like they were on fire, extending them out to the sides and clenching his eyes shut again. “Fuck! Nope, no, this is not happening. Not fucking happening. Keep it together, Munson. T-This is just Vecna, just Vecna fucking with you, man.”

But if it was Vecna… where was he?

Cracking his eyes open, Eddie glanced around again. But there was nothing. No flocks of flying demo-bats. No snarling demo-dogs, no Demogorgons.

No Vecna.

The Upside Down was eerily quiet and still around him, more so than usual. It made the sound of his panicked breathing that much louder. Why the fuck was Vecna not attacking him? If this was a trance, he should already be dead. Chrissy was dead within moments. So was that basketball kid who was out to kill him. Patrick or something. They were both dead minutes after Vecna got them.

Unless… time worked differently for those in the trance? Maybe minutes in the real world felt like hours in Vecna’s mental torture chamber.

God, Eddie fucking hoped not.

But… on the off chance this wasn’t a trance, wasn’t a dream or a nightmare, then all that was left was reality, which would be so much worse.

Eddie felt the wings on his back twitch again, felt the blood drying on his lips, but before he could start to fully panic, another thought occurred to him.

If this was real, then what had happened to the rest of the gang? Henderson, Harrington, Buckley, Wheeler… you.

The thought of your face was like a sledgehammer to the chest, the breath expelled from his lungs in a pained wheeze.

Instead of going with Harrington’s group, you had elected to stay with Sinclair and Max in the Creel house, said all the kids needed at least one chaperone. Your joke had fallen flat, but Eddie remembered smiling because it was just like you to try and make light of a situation, try to make everyone feel better, if only for a moment.

What had happened to you? To everyone? How long had it been since he…

Eddie swallowed thickly as he once again recalled choking on his own blood. He remembered Dustin being there, could still hear the kid crying in his head. But then… nothing. Just darkness. Maybe he passed out.

A wing brushed his neck again, and Eddie knew he hadn’t just passed out.

But he couldn’t think about that right now. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find everyone. Find you. Find…

Blood.

The word ricocheted through his mind again, and that hunger reared up in his stomach, snarling. The blood of the raccoon taunted him from the corners of his mouth, and his tongue chased the phantom flavor, desperate and wanting.

“No, stop it, stop it!” Eddie hissed, smacking his cheeks and nearly poking his damn eyes out with his… claws. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket so he wouldn’t have to look at them, and then he paused and took a deep breath. Let it out slow.

The hunger was still there, like an ember burning a hole through his belly, seconds from leaping into flame. But he could ignore it. He would just… just think of you.

He summoned up the image of your smiling face, and immediately the painful hunger faded a bit. Eddie concentrated, recalling the sound of your laugh, the way you snorted when you were high and found something really funny. He tried to remember the last thing you said to him but couldn’t, but the ghost of your voice trickled through his thoughts, wordless yet soothing. That wasn’t anything new, though. You always sanded off his edges, made the chaos of his mind quiet for just a little while.

Fuck, he’d been in love with you for so long. Ages. Lifetimes.

You hadn’t remembered, but Eddie first met you a few months before your tenth birthday. It was the day before your father had moved you out of Hawkins for some job he got. You’d been so angry at your parents for making you leave the only home you had ever known, so you “ran away,” off into the woods, to avoid having to move.

That was where Eddie found you, or rather where you found him.

He’d been dicking around in the woods around the trailer park, trying to avoid his father who was already drunk at nine in the morning. Eddie didn’t even have any real toys, so he was just throwing rocks at trees, turning sticks into swords with his wild imagination. Then he’d turned around, and there you were. He could still remember the overalls you were wearing, your muddy knees, your red and tear-stained eyes. The two of you had just stared at each other— Eddie bracing himself to be bullied for his hair or his clothes or his dead mom and drunk father— but you’d just smiled at him shyly and asked if you could play with him. He’d stammered something stupid about how he was playing knights and dragons, thinking you would finally realize you were talking to Munson the Freak. But your eyes had just lit up as you picked up your own stick-sword and asked him what the rules were.

Eddie was a goner from that moment on.

Of course, your mother had eventually found you hours later, having been called by someone from the trailer park who saw you and Eddie playing in the woods. Your mom dragged you kicking and screaming back to the car while Eddie awkwardly stood in the tree line. It was only when he’d heard your mother yell your name in reprimand that he realized he hadn’t asked for it all day. You hadn’t asked for his name, either, in the way children can become fast friends with just about anyone given the right circumstances.

But your name and that one perfect, golden, summer afternoon haunted him for years after.

And yet, in a twist of ironic fate, he hadn’t recognized you when you returned.

You’d come back to Hawkins for your senior year and his second. But your hair was much longer, less frizzy, the gap in your front teeth gone. You also kept to yourself and kept your head down, so Eddie passed you in the halls for almost an entire year without a second glance.

Then, during his third senior year, he met Dustin Henderson. And one rainy fall day, you came to pick the kid up from Hellfire.

Eddie didn’t know what it was— maybe it was the way your hair was made frizzy by the rain, or maybe it was the shy smile you had cast the room when you looked up— but he remembered in an instant who you were.

And he fell in love all over again.

He’d bugged— well, maybe more threatened— Henderson to keep bringing you around, using the kid’s bike as an excuse. But you eventually saw through the flimsy lie, and Eddie thought that was it, he’d lost you yet again.

Until he walked out of the next Hellfire meeting, and there you were in the parking lot, leaning against your car and smiling at him, that same, shy smile you’d given him in the woods nearly ten years ago.

Eddie had nearly kissed you that first day, but he managed to control himself. Just barely. Because he finally had you back, and you were as golden and bright as his childhood memories made you out to be. He couldn’t lose you again. So, he kept his mouth shut. He became your friend. Gave you good deals on weed, invited you to his shows, hung out with you in his trailer and listened to you complain about your mom.

And you became his best friend, the one who listened to him ramble about his DnD campaigns, who rocked out in his van with him to the newest cassette he bought, who pushed him to study so he could finally get the fuck out of high school. He had pretended to complain about the studying, but really he enjoyed any time he got to spend with you. And Eddie saw the smile you tried to hide when he called you “Master Obi-Wan,” so he took to calling you Obi, just in the hopes of seeing your lips twitch.

In all that time, you never gave any indication that you remembered him or that day in the woods, so he kept the memory to himself. But that was fine because he had you, the now you, not just the phantom of your past. And every time you smiled in his direction, every time you snorted at something unfunny his said while passing back the joint, Eddie had thought this is enough. More than enough.

Except now you might be dead, and he never got to tell you how much he loved you.

The thought had his eyes snapping open, and Eddie was walking before he realized it. It wasn’t until he turned the corner that his brain registered he was moving, marching, headed for his trailer.

But it wasn’t there.

Eddie’s feet tangled as he stumbled to a stop.

“What the fuuuu…” he muttered, trailing off as his wide eyes stared at the rubble where his trailer used to be.

Because that’s all it was now. Rubble and debris. The Upside Down version of his home had already looked shitty, wrapped in vines and scrap metal from his and Henderson’s shoddy armoring, but this was a wreck. It looked like the trailer had been fucking… split in half.

And in the center lay a burning red line, like a jagged wound in the ground, the crimson light giving everything around it a hellish glow.

Was that the gate? How the fuck did it get so big?

What the fuck happened?

“Shit,” Eddie breathed, feeling that familiar panic start to crawl up his spine. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Did that mean… Harrington hadn’t stopped Vecna? And if Harrington hadn’t stopped Vecna, then Max… and you…

Eddie stared at the massive gate for an endless moment, not knowing what to do. But the longer he stood there motionless, the more the hunger in his stomach was making itself known. It burned in the center of him, started making his thoughts fuzzy around the edges again.

Eddie shook his head, but the back of his throat still itched, felt tight and dry. Unbidden, the refreshing sensation of the raccoon blood pooling on his tongue jumped to the forefront of his mind, and his mouth fell open as he began to pant. The raccoon must have come through the enlarged gate, which meant there were more of them on the other side, more hot, pulsing blood--

“Fuck! Focus, Munson, focus,” he muttered to himself, clenching his eyes shut again.

It was one of your favorite phrases, usually accompanied by you snapping your fingers to redirect his attention to finishing an essay or studying for a test.

The memory of you sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by textbooks, made the hunger recede again, like the tide going out, and Eddie exhaled a shaky breath.

He needed to find you. Make sure you were alright. Everything else— the gates, the hunger, the wings— it could all come later. 

Because you had to be alright. There was no way the world would keep turning without you in it. So you were fine, back in the real world. Just fucking fine.

He just needed to find you. You, then Henderson. Because Henderson would know what to do. That kid always had a plan.

Gathering his courage, Eddie opened his eyes and started walking toward the wreckage of his trailer. He ignored the scattered remnants of his life, stepping over his couch sawed in half, his broken stereo system, Uncle Wayne’s hats, until he was standing on the edge of the gate. With the ceiling of the trailer— and the trailer itself— gone, the portal between worlds was now just slashed into the ground. The red glow was almost blinding this close, and Eddie squinted against the glare.

His breathing was still jagged, his throat tight with fear. Hunger was a perpetual burning coal in his belly, his teeth fucking ached, and the wings on his back continued to twitch and remind him of their presence.

Eddie was fucking terrified, just as terrified as he’d been when the bats descended upon him, tore him apart.

But that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Just you. Always you.

Your face filled his thoughts, pushed down the hunger, the fear, the throbbing in his mouth.

Just you. Always you.

“O-Okay, I’m comin’, Obi, I’m coming,” Eddie said under his breath.

Then he closed his eyes, bent down, and shoved his hands through the gate.

The fleshy material tore beneath his claws like wet paper, and he crawled forward without thinking about it, trying to ignore how birth-like it felt to pass through the portal.

Thankfully, it was over quickly, and within moments Eddie was hauling himself up and into the real world, the wreckage of his actual trailer still surrounding him. He scrambled away from the gate, trying not to look at his clawed hands, but suddenly his senses were assaulted all at once, and he faceplanted into the dirt with a groan.

It was so warm here. Not hot, not exactly painful, but enough to be uncomfortable, to make his leather jacket feel like a prison. Then there were the noises. The crickets chirping, the hum of electricity, the distant murmur of voices, of cars. Eddie could hear it all. Like it was all being funneled straight into his brain through the best headphones money could buy. It was enough to make him want to rip his goddamn ears off.

But worse were the smells.

Garbage and grass, car exhaust, fire smoke, and underneath it all…

Blood.  

It was everywhere, Eddie could smell it everywhere. The animal hunger in him roared to the surface, clocking the stray cats under the trailer next to him, the rats in the tall weeds, the birds in the trees. And…

People. Eddie could hear people. Someone on the other end of the trailer park was watching TV in their living room. No, two people. He could hear them arguing, the raised tone of their voices, but the meaning of their words was lost because saliva was now pooling in his mouth.

Their blood smelled so much sweeter. Sweeter than the racoon, the cats and rodents around him. Eddie couldn’t describe it, words escaping him as all his senses zeroed in on the scent. From the direction and the raised voices, it had to be Paul and Deb. They were always arguing, always mean, sneering at him even when he was just a boy walking home from school.

The violent image of tearing Paul’s throat out flashed through Eddie’s thoughts, and that animal hunger in him rejoiced before his conscious weakly raised its head again.

No. No, he couldn’t kill Paul. He wasn’t a murder. He wasn’t a…

Monster.

The word whispered through his mind, echoed by the whispering of the wings against his back, and Eddie whined as he tore at his hair, claws digging into his scalp.

The pain centered him for a moment, long enough that he could think of your face again.

He needed to find you. Needed to find you. Needed you, you, you—

Again, a vision flashed across the darkness of his closed eyelids, but this time it was your throat he was tearing out, your wide eyes pleading as he slurped the blood straight from your neck.

“No!” Eddie snarled, carving his claws into his scalp and shaking his head vehemently.

No, he wasn’t going to hurt you. Could never hurt you. Would rather die than lay a finger on you.

But… this hunger inside him was so sharp, so deep. What if he couldn’t control himself? What if he did hurt you?

“No,” Eddie said again, but this time it was a whimper. His tone was pleading, though he didn’t know who he was begging. Certainly not God. The universe, maybe. The very fucking cosmos.

His eyes felt hot, but no tears came. He was starting to hyperventilate again, which only made the scent of Paul and Deb’s blood more cloying. But his trailer was in pieces around him, split in half by an interdimensional gate to hell. Wayne was probably dead. And if Eddie couldn’t go to you, he couldn’t go to Henderson, so he was… alone.

He was alone and so hungry and so fucking scared.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

“Obi,” Eddie sobbed without meaning to, all but tearing out clumps of his hair now. “Obi, p-please…”

Please, help me.

He crouched there and cried tearlessly for a moment, but his never-ending hunger wouldn’t let him rest. His stomach started to tie itself into knots, painful and tight, and he nearly snapped when Jinx, one of the park’s feral cats, slinked out of the shadows to meow at him. Eddie usually tossed scraps to the mangy feline when he took out the trash, and Jinx seemed to recognize him somewhat. But she kept her distance, meowing from several yards away, which was probably what saved her life.

Because Eddie could hear the blood pumping through the cat, could practically feel its warmth on his tongue. Saliva filled his mouth, his teeth throbbing, and Jinx seemed to recognize the danger because she turned and darted away, fading back into the shadows.

Eddie could still hear her heart pounding from under a trailer several spots down, but the distance gave him some clarity, and he shakily pushed himself to his feet.

He couldn’t stay here. He had to go. Go… somewhere. But away. Away from people, from things he could hurt.

Or kill.

Eddie stumbled out of the wreckage of his trailer and into the woods. It was only then that he realized it was dark, not full dark, but the deep purple bruise of twilight right as the sun slips beneath the horizon. The trees cast black shadows, but Eddie could see just fine in the gloom, like it was midday. This fact should have been surprising except he couldn’t feel anything beyond his hunger. It latched onto his brain, squeezing like a bear trap, and Eddie whined as he fought against it.

Once more, he conjured your face, your smile, the little crease between your eyes that you got whenever you were reading or thinking deeply about something. Eddie recalled every detail he could about you in an effort to stay sane. Your crooked fingers, broken from falling out of a tree when you were seven. Your lips that were forever chapped because you were always picking at them. The constellations of moles and birthmarks spiraling up and down your arms and the glimpses he’d caught of your back. The way you always leaned your head against his shoulder when you were too high and nodding off. The way you wiggled happily every time you had a bite of food you really liked. The way you said his name. Munson. Equal parts exasperated and affectionate.

Eddie clung to these vestiges of you like a drowning man clings to a life preserver, while the hunger, like waves, fought to overtake him. He was trying to keep his head above water, trying to summon up another memory to keep him afloat, when suddenly…

Your name.

It rang through his head like a bell, forcing his eyes open, and Eddie abruptly realized where he was.

He was standing in the woods across from your house, half a step back in the tree line and half hidden by a large trunk. His feet had carried him to you unwittingly, muscle memory from the many times he had walked you home since you lived only a few minutes away. Your street looked largely the same. There was a long crack in the middle of the road, splitting the asphalt, but the houses were all intact. And yours was a little less than fifty yards away.

And you. You were sitting on the steps of your front porch, smoking a cigarette like you were just waiting for him to pull up in his van and pick you up.

Except… god, your face.

Rage ignited in Eddie like a wildfire, and he felt an inhuman growl rumble in his chest, his claws digging into the tree trunk he was hiding behind.

The side of your face was a mottled mixture of blues and purples, and even from this distance— his vision was much better than it should be— Eddie could see the bloody and broken capillaries in your eyes. Your lip was split right down the middle, framed by more bruises, and the hand you weren’t smoking with was wrapped in a white cast that encased your wrist.

The scent of old blood lingered around you, but instead of making him hungry, it made him angry. Wrathful. Vengeful.

Who the fuck had hurt you?

The throbbing in Eddie’s teeth started to spread across his whole head like a virus, a curse. The bark beneath his claws was splintering, crushed by the force of his taut fingers, and his ears rang and rang and rang. He would kill whoever had done that to you. Tear them to shreds. Drink them dry—

Suddenly, the front door burst open right behind you, narrowly missing your hunched back by inches. A new scent— hot pumping blood, too-pungent cologne,  and fear— hit Eddie moments before recognition did.

[youre-a-total--poser]

Can I request something where after westview wanda goes to nat and they end up getting rlly close and getting together and end up having or adopting y/n flash foward Wanda tells young y/n like 5-6 about her older brothers billy and tommy and y/n is just asking what happened to them and you can add or changed whatever you want

Something New (Request)

Warnings: Any Let me know

Age: 5

Word Count: 643

Requests: Open

Summary: Things are changing for Wanda for the better

Requested by: Anonymous

Date: 27/07/22

A/N: Thank You to the person who requested this. Sorry it's so short I didn't know what else to write

—⧗—

The events that happened at Westview completely changed Wanda. For the worst not for the better.

Everyone that she loved was gone well almost everyone.

Wanda has been sitting in a dark, cold cabin alone for weeks. After what happened at Westview she wasn't sure if she would ever be able to be around people again.

Every day her routine stayed the same. She didn't dare change it she needed some form of structure in her life till one day everything did change for the better.

—⧗—

Wanda was sitting on the steps of the cabin enjoying the afternoon sun when a car pulled up and out stepped a familiar redhead.

Natasha wasn't aware of all that was happening till recently while she was away reuniting with her family she didn't know that one of her closest friends was losing all of hers.

"You don't have to be here. I've caused enough trouble." Wanda said standing up and walking into the cabin which Natasha followed

"So is that why you won't return any of my calls or have I done something to piss you off?"

"I didn't return your calls because I just wanted to be alone."

"But you don't have to be alone. I'm here now I can help you, Wanda." Natasha spoke softly.

"Thank you for the offer but I'm fine. I don't need any help."

"Please wanda let me help you" natasha begged.

"You're not going to leave me alone are you?"

"You know I can't."

Wanda sighed and let Natasha stay.

—⧗—

After that the bond that wanda and natasha had grown stronger every day. Natasha was exactly what wanda needed to help her.

Natasha was there to listen to all of Wanda's stories, to comfort her when she cried. no matter what Natasha was there.

The months went by and their relationship changed in a way that neither one expected. Thanks to one drunken night and a shared kiss they both realised that the key to happiness was right in front of their faces the whole time.

As time when on and everything was perfect once again. Wanda and Natasha got a small apartment together and even went on to adopt a baby girl.

Wanda never forgot about her life with Vision and their twin boys she thought about them every day and she would have loved to be here to see her three babies grow up together.

—⧗—

5 years later

You were lying in your parent's bed both of them on either side of you and you were getting read a bedtime story

"And they all lived happily ever after the end." Wanda read then she closed the book.

"Can I one day have a brother or sister?" You asked.

"You do sweetie. you have got two big brothers Billy and Tommy." Wanda said.

"Where are they?" you asked

Wanda thought for a moment. How was she going to explain to a 5-year-old what happened?

"They had to go away, honey."

"To heaven?"

Wanda nodded

"Won't they be scared since they're all alone?"

"They're not alone sweetheart they have their dad and my brother, remember I told you about your uncle Pietro and also my mom and dad too," Wanda explain

"Mommy, would you and mama ever have to leave me?" You asked. tears started forming in your eyes.

"No baby. Me and your mommy will never leave you okay." Natasha told you putting her arm around you and placing a kiss on your head.

"That's good I don't want to be alone." You sniffed

"Don't worry honey you're never going to be alone I promise." Wanda kisses your head and then puts her arms around you and Natasha.

Wanda had already lost so much and she was willing to do whatever it took to make sure that she wouldn't lose you or Natasha too.

—⧗—

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[jbreenr]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have. 

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request. 

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were. 

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence. 

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse. 

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen. 

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone. 

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through. 

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen… 

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to. 

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing. 

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours. 

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss. 

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then. 

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him. 

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. 

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears. 

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. 

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

[wildelydawn]

Hello! For the Writer Goal Ask List : 🌈 What research do you plan on doing for your writing?

Also, this is not really related to the question. When I saw the ask list, I remember that I once saw your post about scaffolding one of your fic and I love it! And it made me think of the above question. (Maybe because I love to see the connection between research plan and writing structure -- I hope this doesn't sound weird to you).

Thank you! And I wish you a happy and good year ahead!

Hello, hi! I am late! So sorry about this!

I know I answered this in another ask, but I want to answer it again because I am a liar. I still have plenty of research to do for fic writing, especially for BSC90, where I plan to talk about the legality of the cacao farming/trade. (Even if it ends up being brief, it's something I'm now totally invested in.) I also think research means experiencing stuff. So for YLTTL, Chay is a photographer, and sometimes, I take my partner's camera (they photograph as a hobby) and I go outside and see how the camera frames everything. The good news is that I actually study photography, the theory/philosophies behind photography and photos, so some of that ends up sneaking into that particular fic.

Ahh! I'm so glad you mentioned that haha. Not weird at all, I love talking about the process of writing because so many people think it has to be linear, and it really doesn't. It also doesn't have to be structured, but for longer fics, I love scaffolding, building character trees, plot trees, etc. I think it helps me visually. It's like having a cheat sheet for my own story. So, for example, the current scaffold for BSC90 looks like this:

So this is the character arcs/info (edited to remove spoilers!) for BSC90. Every story I've written so far has a different variation of Kim and Chay. The rest of this section goes into the behaviors of each character; Kim is colder, short tempered, impatient in this story. While Chay is more open, happier, flirtacious, etc. Making Kim a plant dad (specifically to orchids) has required a lot more research than I anticipated, so that's been a really wonderful process. I may actually end up getting an orchid (and probably killing it too.) And because I want Chay to be a k-pop fan, I've started listening to Stray Kidz. Haha. So research begins to take hold at the early stages; even if it doesn't always show up in the story, it ends up being in the scaffold.

This is the scaffolding I did for Chapter 2 and 3 for BSC90. A lot of these are quick bullet points but ended up becoming major facets in the story (particularly Kim not knowing how to use a mop.) The comments/highlighted sections are notes/links/quotes from research material stemming from the layout of a bakery to the reference to Stella McCartney jeans that Kim makes when talking to Khun. Not all details are blown up or used. For instance, in the story, I do not mention that Kim was offered to support someone else on tour. I axed that idea at the last minute for a few reasons; essentially, the research process and writing scaffold for me are really heavily tied together.

However, I'm not always that organized, so I want to also show you the "scaffold" for my fem!KinnPorsche story:

Just One Taste was a one shot that still needed research/scaffolding, but the process was much messier and on the fly (catch me using the wrong pronouns my bad ><). Which I think was necessary for the nature of the story, but this was the "scaffold" I kept going back to while writing. (My beta and I were just screaming about Porsche's nipples tbh, but it still helped while I was writing.)

Oh fuck dskfjskdg. This is way too long of an answer, I am so sorry I talked my head off again, but I actually really adore you for asking this, so thank you very much. (especially since you write amazing pieces/journal entries on BL!) <3