#this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for ages so I decided with the new aesthetic stuff why not give it a post.

[great-mouse-detectives]

Music plays, the world becomes dizzy with motion around the ballroom. A formal invitation had been sent by the Queen to the infamous Basil of Baker Street for his heroic work, his plus one being his trusted partner and assistant, Dr David Q. Dawson. A man who was in desperate need of a fun party after everything the detective has pulled on him. Now, stuffy events like this were hardly the mouse's cup of tea, but this time had been... Different. Different how, you may ask? Well, not only do you not refuse an invitation from the Queen to the palace, but there’s also the fact that Dawson had dreams of meeting someone and dancing the night away. So, if the detective's best friend was to attend, he would also have to go. And no weaseling his way out of the night, either. Dawson’s eyes were on him, as previously promised. He would have to try and enjoy himself tonight, or die of boredom trying.

To be fair, the man looked lovely in his spiffy little suit. Red in color with yellow accents, his hair combed back in a more formal manner, shoes shiny being brand new, and a wine glass in hand that has yet to be touched by his lips. He really only carried it to make other’s more comfortable to be downing as much alcohol as they were in his presence. At least the upper class was more tolerable to be around when they weren't sober. Watching people with too much money drink themselves silly had its perks. But that's the majority of what he could do, just... People watch.

He stood off in the corner, much akin to a wallflower. Left to twiddle his thumbs and behave like a child waiting for their mom in a grocery store. His foot tried not to tap impatiently, but to the sound of the music as to not offend any of the other guests who were actually enjoying themselves.

This is absolute torture. He needs something. Anything. To keep him occupied. And he was forced to leave his pipe at home - He was in desperate need for a smoke. And social standards let him do nothing of the sort inside, where he had promised Dawson he'd stay unless someone else prompted otherwise. Darn. A wistful and defeated sigh blew through his nose as he debating finally taking a sip... A quick sniff of the glass and he deduced it was what folks call 'the good stuff.' He wasn't much of a drinker, he had other vices, but expensive wine was not his go to. The Queen must have gone all out for this celebration.

Tch. He almost just decided to pour it out into a nearby plant, but the doctor's eyes caught his again as he was mingling. With an eyebrow suspiciously raised at him, he pouted softly, rolled his eyes, and took a sip. That appeased the doctor's judgemental gaze and he returned to his conversation. The wine wasn't awful, at least.

[nburkhardt]

Every Time You Shine, I’ll Shine For You.

Soooo this was originally going to be full one shot, but I’ve decided since it’s been sitting in my drafts for months, that I’m just going to post it as either an unfinished piece for now. I might try to come up with a second half but for now enjoy this soulmate au ✨

Having a soulmark wasn’t necessary for Steve. Sure, seeing the word- the nickname his soulmate will eventually call him is nice. But it’s not needed, not in his eyes at least.

At the age of five years old, everyone in the world gets a nickname on their wrist. It’s fate telling you your perfect match, that the other half of your soul is out there for you. It’s the ultimate fairytale growing up, that it burns when you hear the nickname said by your soulmate and there’s an instant spark, instant connection. It’s the bedtime story, the ultimate love story and something to wish for.

It’s a wish everyone wants but Steve Harrington.

He has a very good reason to not like the idea of having a “perfect match” out there for you. While he heard the stories and sees the potential in it, he grew up watching his parents be in love without being actual soulmates. Hears stories of their love and ideas of finding love on your own, deciding to show the world that they don’t need fate’s help.

It’s beautiful and he wants that. Wants to make his own story, find his own match. There’s no need for fate to help him.

On his fifth birthday, he watched ‘Dingus’ appear on his wrist, it made him pout while his parents laughed and kiss his head, told him not to worry. That he doesn’t have to be with whoever fate picked for him and joked about only being five.

It eases his five year old mind.

His parents aren’t surprised to watch him grow up to be a true romantic, isn’t surprised to see his love in everything and how having a soul mark doesn’t stop him from having crushes or falling in love.

Life goes on but after some failed relationships and the disaster of a relationship with Nancy; seeing the nickname give him some hope that somewhere out there, there is someone for him. Someone who fate decided is his match, which growing up he hated it.

At eighteen, he really thought he’d already be with the person he’d love forever (and who would love him). But instead of that, he’s single and not at all close to figuring out why fate’s pick for him would call him “dingus” of all things. To top it all of he’s stuck working at the new Scoops Ahoy until he hears back from the colleges he applied too.

The uniform is lame, it’s in the middle of the brand new mall and it’s leaning towards being too cold in the shop and he doesn’t even know his coworker yet, hopefully they’re not expecting him to be some big shot like he was in high school.

Those days are long gone, he’d rather be his lame and hopeless romantic self instead of the asshole keg king he was.

His first week of working is spent being laughed at by ex-teammates, being ignored by his only coworker and failing to get at least a date with someone. It’s not his longest week, but it’s real close.

After a total of three weeks of getting ignored and laughed at by people he flirts with, his coworker, Robin decides enough is enough and- “maybe with this you’ll try harder”

Glancing behind him, she’s standing there with the whiteboard from the back but instead of the random doodles she drew, it looks like a score board with You Rule/You Suck on it.

There’s already three tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and he can’t figure out if it makes him want to laugh or cry, maybe both.

Definitely both.

“At least I’m trying here, you could find your soulmate with flirting!”

Robin rolls her eyes and hangs the board up behind her, “I’d rather suck on a lemon than flirt with guys”

It surprises him for all of three seconds before he rolls his eyes, whatever, he thinks. If she wants to miss the opportunity to find a soulmate, so be it. He’ll continue trying to find love, he doesn’t need whoever fate picked.

The board is definitely mocking him, he thinks several days later. Currently there’s five tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and a big fat nothing under ‘You Rule’. Robin thinks it’s the funniest thing on the planet.

He doesn’t find it funny, he finds it embarrassing and stupid, actually. Really embarrassing, especially when she brings it out when another girl their age walks in. It’s like she’s doing it on purpose.

Which is confusing, she told him explicitly that she does not like him and will only ever tolerate him. So, her practically chasing people away doesn’t make sense.

Her loud crackle of a laugh starts as his head nearly hits the counter, “That’s another one for the you suck column! Zero for the you rule, popeye!”

Standing up he turns around with a glare, “yeah I can read!”

“You sure about that one, Dingus?”

His wrist burns and he can’t stop his eyes from going wide. There’s no way, absolutely no way. This is a fluke, she must have seen his mark one day. That’s why his soulmate mate, fate’s pick, is his co-worker.

His disbelief and discomfort most show on his face because Robin shifts on her feet, “I’m uh, sorry. If I took that too far, really-uh I don’t think that way about you and, and- this is was” she looks uncomfortable now, tripping over her words.

Opening his mouth to calm her down, he find that his words are gone. The disbelief stopping him. He quickly shuts it and looks away from her. The shop is completely empty. When did that happen?

“Steve- I really didn’t mean to be well, mean.”

All he can do is nod back, “no, uh, I get it. Really- uh. It’s fine.”

How exactly is he supposed to do this? He’s never once called her a nickname! Unless she was his but he isn’t hers? He doesn’t know. Either way he’s still a little disappointed.

“You sure? Because uh, you’re looking a little pale there”

A laugh bubbles up and before he realizes it he’s on the ground with his back against the counter and tears on his face, “ye-yeah. Sorry.”

He hears her move around and then there’s a foot bumping his, he moves his head to look at her.

“We’re currently low on everything, did you know that? It’s unbelievable, just wiped clean.” Robin explains with amusement dancing on her face, “Scoops Ahoy is officially closed for the day”

That surprises a laugh out of him as tries to loosen the tension that built up, moving his arms he puts his chin on his knee, Robin copies him. They’re just looking at each other, comfortable in this silence.

“Sooo”

“Look-”

Their eyes meet and both burst out laughing. This feels different, at least for Steve. There’s something soothing coursing through him now, he never felt on edge with Robin but he wasn’t always this comfortable either. A smile spreading on his face, he didn’t know about this feeling when you meet your soulmate.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorts, “they might be worth more, Birdie”

Robin gasps and he looks at her, but her eyes are wide and locked on her wrist. He follows her look and he can’t exactly see what she’s looking at but he knows it’s her soul mark.

They really are soulmates.

This is where I’d put the continuation… if I had the idea for it! (Said in that fairlyodd parents meme)

Anyway! If this brought you some inspiration, you can totally take whatever piece you want and write something! But please know I had this ending up as Steddie with side of Rockie (Vickie&Robin)

Permanent taglist: @spectrum-spectre @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @bookworm0690 @strangersteddierthings

[shuchu]

Hana hana hana, have you see this?

I’ve guessed that shu probably is someone who will have different aura (or vibes (?)) when he’s getting serious. Like the moment he’s starting to assert his dominance, that’s it.

After hearing this, I couldn’t help but imagine dom!shu getting really really mad to protect his lover or something like that. Like probably when u guys having a date or something. Or you trying something new like going to a club or something. Doing something that you both never done as a couple, like this is out of your routine. Imagine when you decide to have a date on a club, you both just want to have some fun: a drink or two and dancing on the dance floor, enjoying the music and vibe? You probably going out with your friends as well (the more the merrier ritee). And then there’s this one guy who start to flirt with you, trying to woo you when you are alone (because maybe shu is getting drinks for you two while the others are dancing on the dancefloor). But anyway, this guy is persistence, he’s making you uncomfortable even though you have nicely ask him to back off.

Annnd, at some point, shu sees it and all hell break loose. He will start to assert his dominance to protect you. He won’t back down until the other party says sorry or leave you both alone.

(nsfw) Anyway, i couldnt help but to imagine if he’s somehow able to be mean in bed. Like, when he’s unable to control his raging jealousy after what happened at the club. He probably gonna do you for hours until you remember nothing but his name and until he’s calm down enough lmao skksks

- 🥀

good lord, this is an ask that has been sitting in my drafts, unfinished from eons ago. i finally found the motivation to finish it up. i apologise if this is bad, i'm so rusty ;w; enjoy lovelies <3

indeed i have! the way millie described shu being mad and sticking up for his friends- same millie that's tskr and fucking hot

i honestly feel like even though shu is calm and collected most of the time, when he feels the need to step up and protect someone he cares about he will. so i can imagine that if a random person starts harassing you and making you feel uncomfortable, shu would definitely make the person apologise to the both of you for being such an asshole

here's a mini fic inspired by your ask/thirst ♡

suggestive, afab!reader

you and shu decide to step out of your comfort zones a little for today's date and go to a club. it was lovely at first, getting drinks and dancing with shu on the dance floor.

you giggle as shu hugged you close to him, with a big smile on his face as the song ends and the next one begins. the both of you then leave the dance floor to take a break from dancing.

"who would've thought we're both amazing dancers?"

"nah babe. you're the dancer not me." shu sees you panting a little and asks, "you want me to go get some more drinks?"

you nod, "yeah that would be great babe, thank you!"

shu smiles and says as he walks away, "i'll be right back, stay here okay?"

you take your phone out and start scrolling through twitter while waiting for shu to return.

"hey, do you wanna get some drinks with me? it's on me." you hear a voice from beside you so you take your attention off your phone to see a young man beside you. from his looks, you'd guess he was around the same age as you.

you smile and say, "oh, no thank you. i have someone getting me drinks already."

the man continues, "oh that's okay then. i saw you across the the club and felt an immediate connection with you. you're really pretty."

an unsettling feeling starting bubbling up within you when the man said that, you give him an awkward smile and say, "thanks."

"are you single? if so, can i grab your number?"

"no i have a boyfriend actually and he's the one getting drinks for me." you say, hoping that the man would leave you alone after that.

the man's face dropped for a split second before he regained his cheery and flirty disposition. the man continued hitting on you and would constantly try to touch your arm or your waist. you were feeling incredibly uncomfortable and prayed for shu to get back soon.

fact is, shu saw this go down from a distance. after he turned his back towards the bar, he saw this random guy hitting on his partner. he saw the uncomfortable look on your face and it made his blood boil, he starts walking over to the both of you. when he gets there he clears his throat, "i'm back babe, sorry i took so long."

he gently pulls you away from the man so that you're standing closer to him. one of his hands made its way to your waist, holding you close to him.

"you knew they were taken. why are you still trying to coerce them into having a drink with you?"

the man looked at shu and laughed nervously, "ah i'm so sorry. i thought they were just using it as an excuse to not get a drink with me."

"even then, even if they weren't my partner, if someone tells you no, respect their decision and stop pushing yourself onto them. that's disgusting and you should feel ashamed for acting like that. my partner felt very uncomfortable from your advances, so i think you should apologise to them."

the man laughed nervously again and tried to weasel himself out of the situation but shu insisted and glared at him. the man eventually apologised and left quickly afterwards.

shu brought you into his arms and held you close, "you feeling okay? he was such an asshole, i'm sorry you had to deal with that alone."

you hum, "i'm feeling okay babe don't worry. thank you for telling him off." the both of you finished your drinks and headed home. during the ride home, you saw that shu was gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual, the veins on his hands and arms were more prominent. his jaw was clenched and he wore a serious expression.

once you stepped into the comfort of your house, shu grabbed your hands and gently pushed you against the wall. your eyes widened and you gasp, "b-babe?"

"the thought of that guy hitting on you and making you feel so uncomfortable makes me so mad. i should have asked you to come along with me, i'm sorry i left you there alone. i just figured that maybe people would be decent enough to leave you alone after you reject them." shu says in a gruff voice.

you moved a hand up to cup his cheek, "it's okay. you came back and told him off. thank you for coming to my rescue, my knight in shining armour." you giggle a little after saying that.

shu then leaned in, his breath tickling the side of your neck, "maybe i need to mark you up so that other men will know you're mine and know not to approach you."

your breath hitches and you gulp, "i- i don't think you need to babe, something like that- ah-!"

you let out a little moan as shu attached his lips to your neck, sucking on it.

heat started pooling between your legs as you’ve never seen your boyfriend this possessive before and not gonna lie, it was really turning you on.

shu lifted his head up from your neck to admire his handy work while you look back at him panting and with lust filled eyes.

he takes in the sight before him and smirks. he then leans down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. the way his tongue swept against yours was dizzying and you felt like you were melting from the intensity of the kiss.

shu pulls back slightly and whispers against your lips, "all. mine." before smiling and giving you a peck. then, he leans back and walks away leaving you to slide down onto the floor, dazed and very very turned on.

[sparklepool101]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

"Tagged" in @kindlystrawberry's open invitation (who is one of my favorite fic writer ever, seriously PLEASE check her stuff out!) and using this as an excuse to ramble :p

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

66!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

192,170 since 2020!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

A little bit of everything! The top couple that pop up on my profile are Craig of the Creek (21), Project Sekai (14), Rise of the TMNT (5), and Kid Cosmic (5). But honestly? Whatever I'm into at the moment has a good chance at getting a fic. (My notes app is nothing but draft ideas.)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Sure As Sun Turns to Moon (I'll be With You) (FNAF) - 1,697

I Can't Lose You Again (ROTTMNT) - 847

Another Danganronpa Chatfic >:3c (Danganronpa) - 478

Wish We Could Turn Back Time (Don't Hug Me I'm Scared) - 430

Five Times Casey Moved to a New Cave and One Time that He Moved into a New House (ROTTMNT) - 421

So one of these is not like the others lol. I can explain though. So, top down:

SASTTM got published when Security Breach was super popular and tapped into the public outcry for Freddy being Gregory's dad. It's been sitting unfinished for over a year now at 28k, but I do have plans to finish it! I've cut the draft down a lot to actually make it a feasible writing project now, but I'm not going to publish anymore chapters until it's done. I want to finish it properly because this fic helped me grow so much as a writer and it means a lot to me.

I Can't Lose You Again will get touched on later on, as well as Wish We Could Turn Back Time.

Five Time Casey Moved was a fic that I wrote in a haze after watching season one of ROTTMNT and then the movie. It was published the day after the movie came out iirc and has a really special place in my heart for several reasons <3

And then the chatfic.

I got my fandom start in Danganonpa and in middle school, chatfics are the funniest, coolest things ever. So once I decided to start writing, obviously I had to do my own. It has aged horribly, is horribly written, and honestly should be deleted and never see the light of day again. Or at least be orphaned. But I made myself a promise to never delete my old fics unless they were actually horrific because you know what? Everyone starts somewhere. So it's still up. And one day it will get dethroned from the top kudos list and I will throw a party <3

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually respond!! It makes me so giddy to receive even the shortest comments, and I always try to pass on that good feeling <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

So out of my published fics its I’d Make a Deal with God (I’d Get Him to Swap Our Places) which is a ROTTMNT fic I wrote about the movie before it came out to speculate on the future. In it we see both Raph and Donnie get kranged, leaving Leo and Mikey crying in a subway. A friend actually told me to kay why you know what myself because of it (in a very much joking manner) which was SUCH a compliment!!!

Out of everything I've written? There's a half finished ROTTMNT fic in my junior year AP Lang notebook which takes place over one week and ends with Mikey dying which is... really angsty. Like worryingly angsty. It's still an interesting concept that I think could be fun to explore, but even if I do ever finish it idk if it'll see the light of day.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm really not a fan of unhappy endings, even in fics. Hurt is best served with a side of comfort in my opinion, so everything I write ends up being really light and fluffy.

Three fics come to mind as having the happiest *ending* though.

The first is Would You be so Kind (As to Fall in Love with Me?) which is a Craig of the Creek fic entirely focused on two characters realizing that they love each other and that polyamory is an option! It's super sweet and I refuse to believe it's not canon tbh.

The other two are both Project Sekai fics from Tenmay this year, The Royal Summit (Where Friendships Blossom) and Sunbound Promise. They're both fantasy aus where Tsukasa and Toya grow closer, the first being their first meeting and the second where they become brothers. They're both so sweet and self indulgent, the endings make me so happy <3 <3 <3 <3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I got one comment on SASTTM where someone was bitching about neopronouns which I think counts. But overall people have been really nice and anyone who doesn't jive with the fic just moves on lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, and I don't know if I ever will. It's just not what I really want to write :p

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Occasionally! None of them have been particularly "crazy", though. I try to keep those things pretty grounded. I have a lot of crossover ideas that don't get written though :p

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but if anyone ever wants to do so you have my full permission! Just shoot me a message somewhere to let me know

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

No. I don't know if I'd be able to either, co-plotting would be fine, I'm doing that with my sibling and a prsk magical girl fic, but writing,,, I couldn't :,)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

There are a lot of ships I love. But for all time favorite, I have to go with the one that I keep going back to read fics for even though I've lost pretty much all other interest in the game: Promptis (Prompto/Noctis from FFXV) I just keep coming back to them.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Where to start with this list.

The main one if probably my Project Sekai fantasy au fic The Eastern Side of Bolganio. It's so special to me, but it's a majorly ambitious project and I've gotten so little response with it that it's hard to write. I'm normally pretty good about not focusing on the numbers when it comes to fics (writing for small random fandoms help, there are some fics that I'm surprised have more than two hits, much less two kudos), but the fact that it's such an ambitious project that I've barely made a dent into... idk

I really want to finish it though </3

16. What are your writing strengths?

idk, people say that my characterization is really good? I saved this one for last to answer but now I'm tired

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm going to try and not be too self deprecating lol.

I'm really bad at describing environments/movement and dialogue at the same time. It's always either White Room Syndrome or a clunky mess. I also suck at titles. I always try to not use song lyrics, but anything that I do always sounds horrible.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I love it when it's done well! I love it when fic authors delve into the heritage of characters and bring in elements of it. I've done it a fair couple of times and always take great care to make sure that the translations aren't too horrific.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

So the first ever fanfiction I wrote was my exceedingly angsty, take on who the other souls in Undertale were before they died.

HOWEVER, I consider the first *fandom* I wrote for to be either Percy Jackson or Danganronpa. My first actual attempt at writing a fanfiction was a Solangelo prompt which I wrote two sentences of before abandoning and the first time I tried to write canon characters in situations, doing things, was it that damned chatfic XD

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Ouuuugh we're just going with a list here

I Can't Lose You Again - I told you these would show back up again. Anyways, writing this fic was so fun. I really felt like I knew what I was doing, and apparently I did based off the comments! It's so special to me <3

Wish We Could Turn Back Time - This is my Roman Empire. I haven't updated this fic in years but I think about it everyday. I'm working on cleaning up the outline to be less ambitious so I actually have a chance to finish writing the thing, and I can't wait to finally give it the ending it deserves! It's also actually shaped my life in so many ways <3

After The Dinner Horn and Offscreen; a CotC oneshot collection - Maybe putting a oneshot collection here is cheating but shhhh. This actually is an umbrella title for almost all of my cotc fics (especially on platforms where I can't be bothered to upload them individually unless they're multichaptered). So many of these fics either shaped me as a writer drastically or mean so much to me on a personal level it's WILD. And also a reflection on how much the show means to me I guess? Idk that's enough psychoanalyzing for today.

Coercion Cancellation - This one might be cheating because it's the one I'm currently working on, but shhhhh. It still counts. It's for an indie horror game called Imaginary Friend Asylum ((prequel to The Friends We Left Behind)) which you should check out

Also adding on the two Project Sekai fics from question seven about the happiest ending. They're just so, so self indulgent <3

Tags: I don't have the guts (nor memory) to tag anyone on here, so it's fully an open invite! Hop on over here and ramble your heart out about the things you've written!! I can't wait to read it!!!

[pulchritudinous-plants]

steep

have some post book six finn angst? i guess? that’s been in my drafts unfinished for months. mainly inspired by the fact that finn literally stabbed one of his best friends from childhood and it got kinda waved away??? therapy and meds are good but not that good. this is very rough very unedited but it’s 2 am so ya know.

His skin is red from the heat of the shower; scrubbed raw until tender. The water long stopped running pink but it doesn’t matter. He can still feel the blood on his hands, under his nails.

He should get out. Go to the infirmary, Philby and Maybeck were still out of it, after all, talk to the girls. Talk to security.

Are they going to send security after him? They probably should. He did kill someone, after all.

His knees give out at the thought. God, he killed Dillard. He’s sitting on the floor of his stateroom shower because he needed to wash off his best friend's blood before he could do anything else.

What is he supposed to tell his parents?

What is he supposed to tell Dillard’s?

His stomach rolls dangerously. Do they even know where their son is? He wasn’t supposed to be on the boat. He wasn’t supposed to be involved.

He isn’t supposed to be dead, either, though.

He buries his head in his knees, hands fisting his damp hair. Jesus Christ. He never should’ve come on this cruise. He never should’ve become a DHI. Screw his friends, how on earth could they be worth this? He never should’ve met Wayne.

Wayne. Anger flares inside him, but it’s muted. Wayne got them all involved in this. He’s the one that decided children could end a war that adults had been fighting for years. He’s the one that made Finn a Keeper. He’s the one that made Dillard a martyr.

Someone’s knocking on something far away. Everything sounds like he’s submerged in a swimming pool; white noise echoing in his ears. Someone is breathing loudly in the next room.

The door opens, light pooling in from the bedroom, casting shadows onto his mother. She looks worried, panic pinching her face. He can’t bring it in him to be embarrassed that she’s just walked in on him. He wonders why.

“Finn!” She rushes to him, pulling his face up in her hands. “God, you’re freezing, hold on.” Oh. He is freezing, now that she mentions it. The water’s turned ice cold; his skin is numb. How long has he been sitting here?

She leaves, just for a moment. The water abruptly shuts off and she comes back, towel in hand and clothes damp. She wraps it around him before smoothing his hair off his face.

“It’s okay, Finn, but please, breathe. You’ve gotta calm down” Breathe? He is, isn’t he? But no, the heavy breathing from before is him, not someone else. He’s hyperventilating, he thinks distantly. You’re having a panic attack, Larry.

God, how many times has he heard Charlene talk about panic attacks after tests? How many times has Willa called him at 2 am, crying from old nightmares? Why did he think he was so invincible, so well grounded that this wouldn’t ever happen to him?

Well, he supposed anyone would be crying in the shower if they‘d just stabbed someone.

He barks out a laugh at the thought, startling his mother. God, what is wrong with him?

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, on the floor of the shower. She breathes slow and even, willing him to do the same as she rubs his back. It feels like forever until he can take an easy breath of air.

Vaguely he wonders how his mom knows how to do this; whether it’s just some inherent knowledge that comes with age and children.

It takes longer still until he stands on shaky legs to grab a change of clothes, towel pulled tight around him. He’s not shaking, anymore, but he’s still cold. Still a little numb. His lips are chapped.

She leaves to let him change, looking weary at the thought of leaving him alone. He doesn’t blame her. He feels like he’s still teetering on the edge of another breakdown; one good push and he’ll be sent sprawling. She had grabbed his pajamas, he thinks idly. An old t-shirt his aunt sent him years ago that he’s yet to grow into and a pair of plaid sleep pants. They both smell like the lavender laundry detergent she uses back home.

Shit, he wants to go home.

“It’s a little late,” she says once he comes out of that bathroom, moving to put her hands on his shoulders. He doesn’t want her to move away. “Do you want to order room service for dinner? Or I could go pick something up?” She offers, but he’s already shaking his head.

“Can we order? Please? I just…” he trails off, not knowing what to say, but she’s already nodding, moving away to find the menu and call in dinner.

He stands in the middle of the room and tries to think. He needs to go down to medbay and talk to his friends. Philby and Maybeck are awake, no doubt, and they’re going to want to know what happened. It’s what a good friend would do. What a good leader would do. Hasn’t he fought tooth and nail to hold on to his precious leader title? He should be explaining; strategizing (apologizing). Instead, he’s leaving Willa and Charlene to explain everything, half of which they don’t even know because they didn’t follow him into that cave.

(They’re going to have to tell them how they woke them up, he thinks wryly. He’s almost upset that he’s almost certainly already missed out on Philby blushing as red as his hair; Maybeck’s cool persona cracking at the thought that he and Charlene kissed and he wasn’t even aware).

Would the girls wait for him to tell them what he’s done? Or do they already know that their leader's a murderer?

Maybe Philby should be the leader. No one’s died on his watch. What does Wayne’s opinion matter now, anyway?

He should go to them, even just to sit in silence with his friends. But the mere thought sends anxiety clawing up his throat. He’s terrified of what he might see when he looks into their eyes (disgust, horror, fear, anger, even sympathy).

He’ll be alone for tonight, he decides. Plead exhaustion if anyone asks in the morning. It isn’t a lie in the slightest. He feels drained, down to the very marrow, and just wants to sleep.

(He won’t be able to. He’ll toss and turn all night when he does finally drift off around four in the morning he’ll wake up from a nightmare with bile in his throat and phantom blood on his hands.)

-

His hands itch. They’re clean. He washes them anyway.

-

His hands start to crack. They’re dry, constantly, from the repeated washing and relentless hand sanitizer.

Their water bill is going to be astronomical, he thinks belatedly.

It’s been a little over two months since…since.

They haven’t crossed over once, Philby putting a stop to it as soon as he was back at his computer, not needing to ask the others if it was okay. There wasn’t much of a need for them, anyway. The OTs were surely scrambling to figure out what to do without Maleficent.

None of them end up caring too much.

They haven’t gotten together much since they arrived back in Florida. They had individual meetings with some high-up Disney execs and then were told to please forget this unpleasantness had happened and sign the new NDAs and oh, don’t forget they needed to post on the official Disney Host Interactive social media at least twice a month.

(His contract is extended for two more years. He doesn’t read the fine print as he signs away his life again. Not that it matters. They’ve already made a killer out of him.)

They’ve slowly been talking in the group chat again, small comments about class and families that carefully skirt around anything too heavy. Charlene sends a picture of her cat in a sink and Maybeck sends back his latest attempt at a donut vase and slowly, slowly, they start to feel like friends again.

Amanda keeps coming over, stretching out the last few days of summer with him whenever she can. He’s rotten company; doesn’t talk much but she doesn’t mind. She talks endlessly about her days, long and boring though they may be, until her voice goes hoarse and he can’t help but get up and grab her a glass of water.

He’s trying, slowly, to explain what happened to her. It had been surprisingly easy to hear Willa and Charlene fill Philby and Maybeck in on the story, he himself stepping in to fill their gaps. It’d been mindless, almost; he’d been too focused on how necessary it was that the panic and fear hadn’t hit him until hours later, hands itching until he’d scrubbed them raw.

(“PSTD,” his therapist says when he finally works up the courage to see one. “Trauma responses and rituals to help self soothe.”)

It’s amazing, really, dealing with grief. How often had he really thought of Dillard before the cruise? They’d certainly been growing apart in recent years, Finn spending more time with the Keepers and working and far less with his childhood best friend. It’d been easy to justify, at the time. Dillard wasn’t a Keeper, wasn’t a DHI; couldn’t understand what he and his friends were going through no matter how hard he tried; not like Jess and Amanda could.

Well, not until Wayne dragged him in.

He misses Dillard at the most random times, sharp aches deep in his chest at the mention of his favorite foods, the theme to his favorite video games; snatches of conversation from other neighborhood boys about girls and school and games. A sudden wave of grief and guilt a misery so strong that he’ll climb into bed and not be able to leave for days.

And then other times he won't think of Dillard at all for days at a time; feel content, almost, until he remembers and then the guilt of forgetting, of neglecting his best friend’s memory is almost the worst part.

He’s fifteen. He’s famous. He’s killed his best friend. He’s a soldier in a war he never should’ve known about. He’s a leader, or at least he’s supposed to be.

His hands itch.

[qlala]

WIP nudge game

@sproutwings tagged me in this ages ago, but i finally braved my WIPs folder to pull out a few of my favorite unfinished works i have sitting around. send me the bolded description for one of these, and i’ll share a sentence or two, and maybe a bit more about the story! 

coldflash multi-chapters:

canon-verse undercover-as-married case fic: this fic is my favorite child. my silly rabbit. my right-hand arm-man. i love it and will be making a very sincere effort to actually write it this nanowrimo. set mid-season 2, len makes a deal with the feds to infiltrate a high-society art crime ring in metropolis in exchange for a full pardon, and gets barry drafted as his handler as one of his conditions.

high fantasy au, with mage prince!barry and sellsword!len as his armed guard for political marriage negotiations in another kingdom. it goes about as well as you’d imagine. (feat. evil imposter king eowells as barry’s suitor and magic abilities that track barry’s canon meta powers) 

romcom/notting hill au: closeted movie star barry ducks into len’s bookstore to avoid the paparazzi, on the brink of exhaustion from three back-to-back projects; lisa bullies len into letting him crash with them until he’s back on his feet

second chapter of “if convenient, come at once”: i have nothing to say for myself, it’s been almost done for like three years and i just can’t seem to finish it, i’m sorry for being the way i am 

coldflash one-shots: 

tropey canon-verse getting-together fic: it’s not quite a 5+1 of times barry and len almost got caught together, but it’s close! more of a 3+1; mostly a PWP, with some Rogues cameos, inconvenient catching of feelings, and a happy ending 

canon-verse saints & sinners hookup fic: barry eavesdrops on a pair of metas at a bar and finds out that len has earned himself a (very positive) reputation around town for sleeping with metahumans; barry’s more than a little offended that he’s apparently so far down on his to-do list.

coldwestallen:

canon-verse soulmates au: barry and len find out they’re soulmates before barry and iris start dating, in a hookup that goes wrong as soon as their skin touches; neither of them tells anyone, and they agree not to do anything about it—until iris finds out, after she and barry are already dating, when len grudgingly rescues her in a split-second decision and they realize they’re soulmates, too. set roughly in a s3 where len never joined the legends.

canon-verse time loop fix-it: barry keeps dreaming of the siberia and the last time he saw len alive; for len, it’s not a dream. he’s stuck in a time loop of their last conversation, the only thing tethering him to life after he sacrificed himself at the oculus. his only hope of getting back to his own universe—a universe where barry and iris are happily married—is to convince barry that he’s not a figment of his unconscious imagination and to help him break out of the loop. it would’ve been a lot less complicated if he’d managed to convince barry of that before barry decided to kiss him. 

i’m tagging all the other writers in this fandom who haven’t gotten a nudge yet - and yes, that means you! 

[fictionadventurer]

Top 5 unpublished stories (unfinished, in-progress, etc. yours or others' - things posted on tumblr fit, but not indie or traditional publishing)

To be clear, I’m limiting this to:

Works that have at least a partial scene drafted. If it exists only in outline or in idea form, it’s ineligible. There has to be some writing for me to reread and like.  

Stories that are not current WIPs.

So, in no particular order, here are five favorites that I’m fond of.

(Warning: Very Long Post)

1. Airship Sleeping Beauty.

In this world, parents buy fairy gifts for their children at birth. Most people are limited to two or three. Seraphina Crowne (please call her Sara) was gifted with twelve. Her impoverished parents had friends among fairy kind who were able to bend the rules to give this child enough gifts to survive in their harsh environment. Thus, Sara has everything from enhanced beauty and grace to strength and speed and musical skill, which makes her an unstoppable force of (super)nature. She loves a challenge and decides to support her parents by becoming a sailor on a flying sailing ship, where she rockets up through the ranks.

Our POV character is Jack Sanders, who serves under her as second lieutenant. Jack has spent years struggling through the ranks with only one unsuitable fairy gift. The father who chose his gift was an insomniac, and gave his son the gift of helping people fall asleep. Surrounded by people with more useful skills like strength or navigation, Jack languished as a midshipman for years until he served under a captain who realized the greater uses of his gift. Jack hates Seraphina Crowne, assuming that she’s the daughter of a rich man who has enough money to bend all the fairy gifting rules for his precious princess.

As they travel through a tropical land, they run into many adventures, and Jack starts to respect Sara. He learns that she comes from a much less privileged background than he’d assumed, and they slowly become friends. Then one day, they’re taking a day of shore leave on a flying island when they get into a fight with some local ruffians. Sara falls over the edge and is impaled on one of the metal spikes that serve as a barrier between the island and the open sky. But she doesn’t die. She climbs up with a gaping hole through her torso, and the should-be fatal wound heals within hours.

Sara is forced to tell Jack her greatest secret--she actually has a (highly illegal) thirteenth gift. Her mother’s greatest friend among fairy kind was a fairy who was banished from the guild for giving gifts that were too powerful. This fairy wanted to make absolutely certain that her friend couldn’t possibly lose this child at a young age. Her gift to Sara was that she would die by being pricked on the spindle of a spinning wheel--which means that nothing else can kill her. Not disease, injury, old age--she is invulnerable as long as she stays away from spinning wheels, which is easy to do in this industrialized age when your average person has never seen such a thing.  

Jack promises to keep Sara’s secret and they return to the ship. But Jack isn’t the only one who heard her confession. There’s a local airship pirate who supports his business by adopting infants and getting them the illegal fairy gift of being able to transform into birds. One of these bird-children also heard Sara’s story, and they inform their pirate father, who make plans to attack the ship and take out its most powerful asset.

I never finished the story because the climax falls apart. The pirates were going to attack and stab Sara, but Jack is able to stall her death by putting her to sleep--and I could never figure out a way to save Sara without it feeling cheap and predictable and/or detouring into a completely different plotline that takes us away from the story. But I think of the rest of it as one of the best fairy tale retellings I never wrote.

2. Faraway House

This one is my middle-grade portal fantasy for adults. Mara meets Adrian, a mysterious, magical man whose house sits in a space that connects to three different universes--ours, one that has a more medieval fairy tale vibe, and one that’s more steampunky and involves lots of chimeras and people with animal traits. People in need of help tend to fall into this in-between space, and Adrian lets them stay at Faraway House for as long as they need.

There are tons of characters who drop into this story and provide little subplots, but my favorite part was an overarching plotline involving Adrian and Mara. Adrian, who was originally from the fairy tale world, was the evil magician of every childhood nightmare, a powerful man who did all sorts of horrible things to people. He became obsessed with immortality and eventually got it--at a great price to the rest of the world and to himself. He was caught, stripped of a lot of power, and left to live his long life and see the consequences of his actions. He spent a few centuries wandering the three different worlds and undergoing a ton of character development. As a newly humbled man, he was given charge of Faraway House, since his magical talents would be valuable to keep the area and the portals stable. Now, he’s the nicest, sweetest guy you’d ever want to meet. He rarely tells anyone about his past, and most people wouldn’t believe it if you told them.

Anyhow, after Mara’s been staying at Faraway for a long time, she and Adrian go through a portal that links to Adrian’s home universe. They soon realize that it links to his world several centuries in the past, when Evil Adrian was at the height of his power. And he’s very interested in Mara, because her adventures in Faraway have given her some kind of magic that will help him reach the Well of Immortality (or something like that--it’s a very nebulous, fairy tale idea). Unfortunately, taking this magic will kill Mara, so Older Adrian does all he can to save Mara. He succeeds and gets her back home. But his younger self is still on the lookout for her, and he eventually makes his way to Faraway, where he drains the magic and escapes, leaving Mara dying.

And I know this is the most cliche way to end this, but I like my stories predictable and cheesy, and Older Adrian ends up saving Mara by giving up his immortality, which kills him. It’s all very Disney-moving. The story ends with Mara being made the new caretaker of Faraway. And I give away the ending because I’m never going to write this, but I’m still fonder of this story than it deserves.

3. The Island

Anne of Green Gables meets fairy tales.

The Island is a place full of magic. Amphibious mermaids swim along its shores. A fairy forest fills the heart of the Island. Selkie live on the tiny islands off its shore. Pixies cause trouble in the farmyard’s back garden. It’s amazing to the relatively low-magic areas of the rest of the world, but it’s all part of daily life to the farmers and fishermen who live here.

The Fairy’s Daughters, a retelling of “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”, had the most words written in it, but I think I’m fonder of some of the shorter sketches set a generation earlier that highlight little bits and pieces of the world. I started with the tale of Lizbet, an ordinary orphan girl living with her aunt who befriends Gideon, a half-fairy boy who eventually becomes the town’s magical doctor. Their friends include the widow lighthouse keeper who tries to adopt an orphan boy and is surprised to get Amy, who’s a girl--and a mermaid. There’s Captain Avery, a fierce-looking old sailor with a gentle heart and a surprising amount of experience with magical creatures. There’s Auberon, a fairy prince and eventually king who’s racist against humans, spends some of his younger years traveling in human lands to import human-made products, and becomes even more racist because of it.

I think my favorite thing in this universe are the sylphs. I borrowed Andersen’s idea of the “Daughters of the Air”, and made my sylphs into invisible, benevolent creatures who do good deeds for people, and can accomplish magical feats far beyond what any fairy can do. The sketch I reread most often is a scene where Amy, out for a swim in a storm, is rescued by a sylph who has taken a human (though translucent) form, and gets invited in for tea by Amy’s grateful friends.

It’s a fun universe to play in, but not one that I’m very good at finishing stories in, so I think it needs to stay as a pretty aesthetic and a fun sandbox.

4. Clever Anne

A retelling of “Kate Crackernuts” set in a non-magical Regency-esque setting. Anne is the beautiful, intelligent daughter of a duke. Kate is her bold, daring stepsister. They are deeply devoted to each other, but Kate’s mother hates Anne for being so much more beautiful than her daughter. She gets one of the servants to push Anne into the embers of the fire, leaving her face badly burned. Kate throws a veil over Anne’s face and gets her out of the house, insisting they’ll go off to make their fortune.

Anne was childhood friends with a young man who, through a convoluted succession crisis, unexpectedly finds himself on the throne. They stumble upon him in their travels, and find themselves able to help him by investigating the mysterious behavior of his half-brother, who resents that he was passed over for the throne and may be plotting something sinister. I was never able to figure out a good political-intrigue parallel to the “dancing all night with fairies” portion of the plot, so it never got written. The only really good scene I wrote from this story was the moment where Kate finds out about Anne’s injury and insists on leaving the house. But even in that one scene, their relationship is so strong and so vivid in my mind that I love their story even if I never finish it.

5. The Beast’s Mechanic

This is the one on the list that’s closest to being a WIP. I actually edited some of the beginning in March. It’s a sci-fi take on “Beauty and the Beast” set in a world where two planetary empires are at war. The war destroyed Monique’s father’s shipping business, forcing the whole family to move to a desert planet where they run a small spaceport. Monique is a top-notch mechanic, her sister Gemma is a pilot, Gemma’s twin Joanne stays at home to take care of the house and the two youngest siblings, and Leo is a seventeen-year-old rapscallion who is desperate to join the war as soon as possible.

Their world is upended when, for the first time in years, their mother wants to meet with them. A former starship captain, she and her husband disagreed over the war, and she left the family years ago to join the war effort. But now her starship is in for repairs and she wants to take some time to reconnect with her family. There’s some controversy among the family--do they really want to open these wounds again when they’ve finally moved on?--but Monique the peacemaker insists that, even though it’s impossible for the whole family to make the trip, her father should take the chance. He goes to meet his wife, but on the way there, his spaceship breaks down in the middle of nowhere, and he’s rescued by the Beast, an infamous cyborg outlaw. He also breaks important equipment on the Beast’s ship, and is only able to keep from being thrown out of the airlock by insisting that his daughter can fix it.

Monique nearly does, except that the authorities show up just before she’s done with repairs, forcing the Beast to take off with her in the ship. She comes to learn that the Beast is far from an evil criminal and has been helping people wronged by the government, and she helps him get home to his family (in the enemy empire), but her patriotic starship captain of a mother takes all of these events in very much the wrong light.

I’m very fond of this story for the ways that it avoids some of the usual BatB retelling tropes. There’s much more to this story than the romance, and little focus on the mystery of how the Beast became a Beast, and there’s much more focus on family. The Beast hasn’t even shown up yet, but I’m just incredibly fond of Monique’s family and their everyday working-class life on a desert planet. I hope I can make more progress on it someday.

[sidhelives]

🗑 and ❓ for fanfic asks.

I'm going to do these in reverse order so I can plug a chunk of text under a -continue reading- thingy at the bottom 😉

❓Write an alternate summary for a published fic without using names. (Points if your followers can guess the fic.)

Subterfuge and contemplating murder as foreplay.

🗑 What is one fic idea that you loved at first but then scrapped?

Oh, I have the best one for this.

I had an idea for a sit-com style fic (chapters labeled as episodes, tropey as fuck, the whole nine) surrounding a Hawke who became pregnant with Fenris's kid after their act two encounter but ends up with Merrill during her pregnancy after he bails. Fenris comes back and kind of forces his way into the house to help raise his kid.

Three bisexual idiots and a baby if you will.

I ended up scrapping it because I realistically didn't have any ideas past the premise. I was trying to plot out the pilot and realized I had nothing past the first 1000 or so words.

I might come back to it someday if I find time to actually plan or with a cowriter or something but for now it's permanently set aside.

I provide you my entire, unfinished draft for the pilot of this mess after the break:

And Baby Makes...Four?

A single knock at the door Hawke could ignore. Someone else would get it or the person would go away, in either case it was not her problem, and, Maker, did her feet ache. It was a rare treat to have the opportunity to lounge in an overstuffed sitting chair before a raging fire in the manor library, swollen feet propped up, a book resting on her bulbous belly, and a single knock was not enough to make her even consider tearing herself away from it.

A second knock was annoying, but Hawke met it with the same "not my problem" attitude and focused more intently on her book. Bodhan or Merrill would take care of it, and besides, she had been meaning to finish Hard in Hightown for ages. Varric (or Uncle Varric, as he had begun referring to himself) was getting increasingly put out by her inability to make it through the novel, and it was the least she could do considering how much help he had been recently.

Insistent pounding, however, she could no longer simply ignore. The firm rhythm of metal against wood quickly became grating, and Hawke could feel the nagging beginnings of a headache beginning between her eyes. With an exasperated sigh she tossed the book aside and heaved herself upright, feet and back protesting as she waddled through the manor, the unrelenting bang bang bang of the knocker getting louder with every step.

By the time she reached the anteroom, Hawke was right angry.

Who would be audacious enough to pound on the door of a noble at such a late hour?

Who would be brazen enough to draw the ire of the Champion of Kirkwall?

Who would be stupid enough to invite the scorn of a woman eight months pregnant?

Hawke flung open the door, scowl in place and a scathing string of obscenities ready on her tongue, but they withered as she saw who had come.

"Fenris?"

His hand was still upraised to continue the onslaught of knocking, and he had the decency to look embarrassed about it, tucking the offending limb behind his back and clearing his throat. His eyes flickered between her face and her stomach, settling on the former before he spoke. "Evening, Hawke."

"Evening…" Both his sudden appearance and his manner felt out of character, and Hawke responded cautiously, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What... are you doing here?"

He didn't appear distressed, rushed, or anything else which would explain his presence at her door. He looked as he always did (full armor, massive sword, grumpy expression) but for a large rucksack thrown over one of his shoulders and a noticeable upturn of his sharp chin, which told her that whatever he was about to say had been carefully planned and rehearsed, and would not be easily rebuffed.

"I'm moving in," he announced firmly.

Hawke's brows shot up and her mouth dropped open. "What?!"

"What?!" Merrill's voice echoed Hawke's from the entryway behind her. The elf scurried up to her side, expression modulating between disbelief and disapproval, one hand sliding to Hawke's lower back as the other rested possessively on her belly.

Fenris's attention caught on that hand and he glowered. "That's my child, and I want to be here for them. I have every right."

Merrill scowled. "Oh, yes, now you want to be here? Where were you months ago when Hawke told you about the babe? You had a chance to be there and you decided to sulk in that dismal mansion of yours instead."

"No? Perhaps I should have taken up blood magic, that's solved all of your problems, right?" Fenris pointed a taloned finger at her accusingly. "You don't know everything, despite what the demons you cavort with might have you believe."

"I know enough. I know that when a strong, beautiful woman Like Hawke loves you, you don't throw that away for loneliness and cheap wine." Merrill snapped back, her chest pressing against Hawke's shoulder as she leaned in.

Fenris scoffed. "It's very expensive wine, thank you very much."

Snorting in exasperation, Merrill looked at Hawke who was still gazing at Fenris with a dazed expression. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I'm thinking." Hawke responded absently.

Merrill gaped at her. "Well I've already thought about it." Her attention snapped back to Fenris. "No to infinity. Goodbye."

The dazed look in Hawke's eyes cleared. "Merrill," Her tone was cautioning, and she patted the other woman's shoulder comfortingly.

"Sorry," Merrill's anger deflated slightly. "You tell him."

Hawke smiled appreciatively and kissed Merrill's temple before her gaze wandered back to Fenris, shifting from foot to foot on the stoop. "Why don't you come inside?" She ignored Merrill's indignant look as she stepped out of his way, shuffling her aghast partner with her.

Fenris seemed just as surprised by this turn of events as Merrill was, but recovered quickly, giving a gruff nod and tramping into the chamber.

"You can't really be considering letting him stay?" Merrill complained. "I mean, I'm not naive, I know what you felt for him, after all, babies don't come about due to exhilarating conversations on the redeeming qualities of dusty old bottles of wine. And I know that those kinds of feelings, they're big, they take up so much space in your head, and they're not going to just evaporate in a cloud of smoke, even considering what he did to you." She very pointedly looked at Fenris, who looked away. "But this is our home. This is Little Bird's home. How could you even think of letting him in here after how he's behaved?"

Hawke closed the door behind Fenris, sighing heavily and rubbing her temples. "You're right. Fenris hasn't been as present as I would have liked," she began slowly.

Fenris opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but Hawke held up a single silencing finger, giving him a pointed look and his jaw snapped closed again, allowing her to go on. "I know you had your reasons. Perfectly justifiable ones, I will admit, but that doesn't mean Merrill is wrong that I was hurt by what came to pass."

Merrill gaped. "Justifiable—?!"

"But," Hawke cut her off with another extended finger, her raised eyebrow disallowing any further interruptions. "Fenris is correct that he has a right to be here. This is Little Bird's home, and like it or not, he is their father."

Fenris seemed as shocked by this omission as Merrill and gave Hawke a curious look. "I must admit, I did not expect you to be so resonant to the prospect."

"For once, Fenris and I agree on something." Merrill crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her bottom lip in protest.

Hawke shook her head, arms outstretched. "I can't say it's something I'd considered before, but I also didn't expect you to show up on my doorstep. The fact that you came at all—" She sighed and bit down on one knuckle contemplatively.

She looked at Merrill. "Would it really be so bad to have an extra set of hands?" She asked gingerly. "We have the room, and he's just going to get gloomier and gloomier if we say no."

"Have you seen his hands?" Merrill retorted, directing a sharp nod at Fenris's gauntlets.

"They do come off you know," he informed her, eyebrows low.

"Oh that's not what I meant and you know it," Merrill snapped. "You're a killer."

"And you're a blood mage. I don't believe you're in any position to be judging the cleanliness of anyone's hands," Fenris shot back instantly.

"Will both of you knock it off?" Hawke whipped them both with a disapproving glare. "I can't think with the two of you going about each other like hackling hounds."

[pebblysand]

It’s me again! You gave such a thorough reply that I wanted to first say thank you and second elaborate on devastating and maybe also expound on why i love castles so much.

So honestly what i most appreciate in post-dh hp fanfics is the exploration of what happens after the war- particularly the trauma and healing process. I’ll be frank in that I’m probably projecting my own mental health issues but that’s neither here nor there.

Castles strikes me as particularly interesting and unique because it delves into Ginny’s trauma from the war as much as Harry’s. Very often in other post-dh fics we see that Ginny is the stable one, she is Harry’s anchor, they show her understanding and forgiving him without question. Which I understand and love but your fic sheds a new light on other possibilities. When I say devastating i mean the internal turmoil, the truth that recovery and healing and growth are agonizing processes. (This is me projecting again, that last three years have been A Lot). And i really appreciate that, personally and narratively. The ordeal of healing and healing alongside people you love and at the same time hurting and being hurt by those same people, and the harsh reality that none of this is linear is something that I just find so compelling in your writing.

Man that’s the most coherent I’ve been in a review in AGES - not just feral screaming. Needless to say, I am very very excited for your update and I will literally wait however long it takes, because you can’t rush genius.

Aw thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad this fic is resonating with you. This is going to be long, so buckle up under the cut.

Thanks again for what you've said, I truly appreciate it. Without blowing my own horn too much, I will say that castles does seem to "speak" in that way to a lot of people in terms of trauma and healing, which as a writer is immensely flattering. I think as authors, all we ever want to do (or at least all I've ever wanted to do) is to write things that are faithful to human emotions and human experiences (as Sally Rooney puts it, we want to write books about "people"). When we get that right that's honestly the most rewarding thing in the world.

To tell you the truth, though, I never really set out to write about that. To give you a little bit of backstory on Castles, it's a story that's been more of less brewing in my head since I was 14 years old, which is when DH came out. I remember sitting there at the end of it and even then I couldn't stop thinking about the 'what now?' question. Obviously there is the epilogue (and I will come back to that in a bit) but I always had a question mark drawn on the direct aftermath of the battle. I think most HP fans have their own little corner of obsession, right? Like, some people are obsessed with Marauders, some with Next-Gen, some with the Death Eater side of the fight. The Post-War world has always been mine.

I believe that the reason for that, as much as I hate to admit it, is that as humans, when something bad happens to us, we have a very easy way out: death. I'm obviously not trying to encourage anyone out here to kill themselves and if anyone who reads this is having thoughts along this line, please seek help, but the truth of the matter is that in the human experience, death is always a possibility. We could choose it, embrace it, and end our own suffering. Yet, like Harry at the end of DH, most of us don't. For the most part, we tend to hang onto to life. Because, truth be told, it's full and wonderful and deserves to be lived, despite the fact that, objectively speaking, it's bloody hard. And, as a writer, that's the space I want to be in. I want to understand and describe why we make that choice, every day, to get up and carry on, rather than giving up. I find that absolutely fascinating. I'm not a writer for the sensational stuff (some people do that much better than me), I want to write the quiet and the silence and the dirt and the blood that's dried and the grief and the powering through and the not giving up. To me, choosing life despite trauma is the epitome of bravery which, as a Gryffindor, is probably the character trait I value most in people.

Obviously, from a narrative perspective, this interest of mine lands itself to a post-war exploration very well. There's an old interview of JKR where she says she insisted on the epilogue being included at the end of book seven (even though she knew it was going to piss people off) because she wanted to show that they made it through. That, as I put it in Castles, 'They lived, for better or for worse.' And, in that interview, she talks more specifically about soldiers and PTSD, and says that 'getting over that kind of war, that's the hard part.' I remember watching that interview and thinking: yes, exactly. And, that's the thing about the epilogue. It's not so much about the content of it, the who-ends-up-with-who rather than the symbolism of it. It's not only about the fact that they fought in a war and won it, it's about the fact that they fought another war afterwards, a quiet one with the world they were trying to rebuild, along with rebuilding themselves, and they won that one, too. It's about showing that bravery isn't always this sparkling, flashy thing. It's also overcoming the silences and the grief and the struggles and making it to the other side.

And, so, yeah, I suppose that leads me to write about trauma. Although that isn't the initial endeavour, it's certainly part of it. And as you pointed out yourself, that road is full of ups and downs because "living" is fucking fantastic, but it's also fucking hard. I find the phrasing you used about Ginny typically being the "stable" one in other fics particularly interesting. I'd never thought about it that way, but I see what you mean. And, the thing with Castles is: none of them (and I mean H & G but also Ron, Hermione - hell even Kingsley) are particularly stable or unstable. To me, they just are. They exist and they live and they try to put one foot in front of the next the best way they can, with very little sense of plan or strategy. They sort of make do, which to me is the only realistic way I can envision the post-war world. They're kids who've just lived through the apocalypse. It's unrealistic to me that any of them would hold all of the answers, or even come close to having their shit together.

To me, it was and is very important to show all sides of that spectrum. Although they likely all wouldn't have suffered from acute PTSD, they would certainly all have struggled with something. Not everyone deals with everything the same way, and I want to show feelings of guilt, and bravery, and confusion, and fear, and determination which are all as unique as the individuals who experience them. I also wanted to show that not everything has a clear-cut explanation for it. For example, when Ginny breaks up with Harry in chap3, she says some truly horrible things. But, what she does say is also the one percent of everything that lies under the surface. She says she breaks up with him for Reason A but it's actually Reason A. 1, A.2, B, C, D, etc. Because, truth be told, that is what happens in life. People rarely give you a neat little list of all the reasons they do something, especially if, again, they've just lived through something huge. Often, you only truly find out the real reasons for people's actions months later, and often, that's because they themselves don't even know, haven't made sense of it in their heads. So, of course, I think it's incredibly important to write all of them as going through something, because to me anything else would be deeply unrealistic.

And, truth be told, I've thought about this extensively every time I've re-read the books in the past. Throughout the years, I started countless drafts on this topic, which I often gave up and left unfinished, until now. I think what motivated me this time is honestly the pandemic. I re-read the books during the first lockdown, then set out to find The Perfect Fanfiction which would deal with all of that. I'd never been in the Potter fandom before and thought to myself: 'there's like a million fics in that fandom, someone must have written this.' And, to this day, I still sort of believe that? Like, I've had a lot of comments in the past year telling me that they like or dislike Castles because it has a unique "tone" and a unique "mood" as well as themes but I'm always like "really? someone else must have written this," haha. But, despite spending a lot of time looking, I never found it so I suppose that's when I decided to write it, haha.

And, here we are, lol.

[junghelioseok]

content creator year in review.

tagged by the wonderful @yeoldontknow​ and @hobidreams​, thank you so much, babes! 💕

first creation and most recent creation of 2020: god, this feels like ages ago but it was the velvet devil! this wasn’t even a planned fic on my part, but it somehow evolved into the introduction to my shadowfolk universe, which is a universe that i fully plan to continue to explore, and actually do elaborate on further in the next fic i’m gonna mention down below 😂 most recent is untitled. | jjk, which is just a lil thing that i had on the brain one early morning 😂

one of your favorite creations from 2020: definitely without a doubt covenant. my hobifics always have a special place in my heart, and covenant is one that i’ve wanted to write for such a long time (mostly because werewolf!hobi lmao). i originally intended to post it on his birthday, just as i strive to do every year, but this one wound up being two months late. what can i say? the inner perfectionist in me jumped out, ahaha. 

a creation you’re really proud of: is it bad if i say covenant again? LOL. really, anything with ❦ next to it on my masterlist is a fic i’m proud of.

a new style you tried this year and a gifset/fic that uses it: i don’t think i’ve explored any new writing styles this year! had i been answering this last year, though, i would easily be able to say polaris. piecing this fic together took ages, and i literally had physical flashcards that i arranged and rearranged to make sure the chronology was right. 😅 all things considered, i would not write anything like that again, but i’m really happy i didn’t let it fall, unfinished, by the wayside. i’m really quite satisfied with how it turned out. 

a creation that took you forever: LOL. i take months and months to write a single fic. like, what i did this month, putting out both aubade and it takes two, is highly unusual for me. but! to answer the question, clandestine took/is still taking me forever to write. it’s been floating around my brain since 2018, and i’m just now starting to post it after deciding to break it up into chapters, lmao.

your creation from 2020 that received the most notes: LMAO if we exclude this rant post i made about the stimulus bill, then wake up call definitely has garnered the most notes. which.............yeah. that checks out. 😏

a creation you think deserved more notes:  i have to go with apricity! i fell back in love with avatar: the last airbender this year when it was added to netflix, so i just had to write about it.

a new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it: none spring to mind, tbh!

a creation you made that breaks your heart: i’m allergic to sad endings, but one of my favorite pieces that contains angst is crosshairs. i wrote it last year, i think, but i truly loved writing every second of it.

a ‘simple’ creation that you really love: well, if we’re defining “simple” as something that took me next to no time at all, then untitled. | jjk for sure. i was feeling very soft when i woke up that morning, and it shows. 🥺

creation that was inspired by another one: apricity is inspired by both avatar: the last airbender and anastasia! 

a favorite creation created by someone else: oh goodness! i will be the first to admit that i don’t read anywhere near as much as i maybe should, but i do have a rec blog here! all of the fics over there are amazing and wonderful, and i have several more sitting in my drafts waiting to be read. i’m going to try really hard to read more in 2021, but i have this weird thing where i feel almost guilty to be reading when i could be spending that time writing? it’s weird. idk.

some of your favorite content creators from the year: there is so much talent on this site, my god. a few that spring to mind (besides kat and rain, ofc) are @underthejoon, @fantasybangtan, @suga-kookiemonster, @kpopfanfictrash, @jjkfire, @lamourche, @jimlingss, @xjoonchildx, @yeojaa, @hoseoksyn, @winetae. i’m so sure i’m forgetting lots of others, sorry about that! 

and for good measure, another a couple more creations of yours that you love: oh, jeez! i think i’ve already mentioned every fic i wrote this year, as well as a few that weren’t! 

tagging: everyone mentioned up above! happy new year, everyone! 💕

[lunamanar]

Since it's Squall's birthday today, do you have any miscellaneous headcanons/essays/whatever about him?

So this is long after the fact. I wasn’t here for Squall’s birthday, for the first time since I signed up for tumblr. I wasn’t anywhere online, at all. It’s probably unsurprising that 2020 hasn’t been kind to me, or to most people. So, hopefully my answering late isn’t too disappointing. 

I have a lot of misc headcanons, a lot of unfinished essays (some of them are finished, but I’m unhappy with them, so they’ll sit and rot in my drafts until I die). It’s hard to come up with any particular one at the moment. I’m better when I have specific prompts. 

I guess one I’ve been thinking about recently (and I think I’ve mentioned it in passing before) is that, for my Squall at least, the concept of jealousy is almost alien. Not that he doesn’t get competitive, but his motivations for that have nothing to do with wanting what other people have. In fact, actively wanting things (or people) for himself isn’t...really something he thinks about. They’re not goals that concern him. 

I suppose, to be (belatedly) topical, it’s for this reason that Squall is an absolute nightmare when it comes to figuring out a birthday present. 

[Embarrassing old fanfic ramblings ahead]

I once wrote an old (and terrible) fanfic called The Birthday Present, actually, about a 13 year old Squall sparring with Seifer on the 23rd. Seifer’s ‘present’ to Squall was going to be to kick his butt, but it was (in that particular story) the first time Squall actually beat him, with some pointed retort about maybe not being able to think outside “the box” (god what an on-the-nose metaphor) like Seifer can, but being a hell of a lot better at working with what’s in it. Which, I think, is true, but hell if the writing wasn’t ham-fisted about it, and the conclusion really never felt right to me anyway. 

Actually, thinking about it, I never thought about it before, but it seems I have a pattern about this sort of story. I wrote another one, also bad, also archived to my Google Docs of Shame, called The 23rd Hour, which was 23 pages long in MSWord, written on August 23rd, 2004 (by my estimation, if you assumed 17 was his official age upon the date of development completion in 1998, he would turn 23 years old in 2004), and I posted it at exactly 11PM/2300 Eastern US. It was about Squall’s 23rd birthday post-game. It was...also awful, but I had fun with it and let myself be weird because it was just a challenge I made up with those specific time/number constraints. It ended with a giant mechanical Tiamat robot getting electrocuted in the water fountains of Balamb Garden’s lobby...um. I had less than 10 hours to write and edit it, start to finish, ok.

Anyway, the theory was much the same, in regards to giving Squall a good birthday present. It couldn’t be a thing. It had to be an experience. Which meant you had to know what his goals and frustrations were, and the best gift you could give him would be something that would help him satisfy one of those goals or address one of those frustrations (in this case, the mundanity of life when you don’t have an all-encompassing emergency to deal with. Selphie’s solution? CREATE ONE!). 

And I screwed it up twice, because even at age 20-22 when I wrote these things, I knew the answer intuitively, but not how to arrive at it. Squall wouldn’t see beating Seifer at sparring as a gift, because that’s not a goal with a purpose (it begs the question: now what, and Squall hates that question because it means the next step in his process is obscure, which is existentially stressful for him). He wouldn’t like people manufacturing a struggle for him, either, even if it was exciting and ultimately harmless, because he’d rather be bored than confused and people making decisions for him based on assumptions about what he wants is exactly the sort of mother-hen doting he finds both upsetting and offensive. Not to mention, it’s an interruption, keeping him from doing other things he’s planned. Sincerely, he’d be so much happier with a can of Break-Free than a fancy new toy or a paid vacation, or an exciting battle, or heaven forbid, a party. 

I think I finally got it concept right in Growing Pains, although that wasn’t explicitly about Squall getting a birthday present. It would have happened around August or September, the way my mind parses the passage of time in the game (you will never convince me, with all the ocean-crossing travel that was necessary, that the game’s events took less than 10 months in total...there were absolutely unmentioned birthdays happening throughout all this and almost everyone crossed 18 by endgame). Mainly: if you want to give Squall a gift, you have to know what he needs by listening to what he says and paying attention to how he reacts to his situation and surroundings, without reading into or speculating about his words and actions, which are usually pretty straightforward. It has to be a goal that he can’t or hasn’t been able to satisfy on his own, and if you decide to intervene, you have to do it in a way that isn’t an interruption of his current efforts toward that goal. TL;DR -If you want to figure out what to give Squall for his birthday, know him well enough to never have to ask. 

I guess that’s my headcanon of the day. 

[killinbills]

╰⊱♥⊱╮ the killinbills guide to planning a fic!! (part two)

Normally I don’t make these sort of things, but I get a lot of asks about how I plan my fics so I thought it would be easier to do a tutorial like this. This works for me, but it won’t work for everyone. I think the thing with planning fics/stories, in general, is that everyone will have their own way of doing it, and it really depends on you as a person. But,,, it might help if you maybe take some of the steps that I do, so here is what I do.

(If you don’t know me, hi! I’m Lucy aka bioodflood on wattpad, and in the almost six years I’ve been on there, I’ve completed six Harry Potter oc fanfics... A few more including the ones that have been taken down, including a couple Teen Wolf ones and one for The Flash, but yeah, I’ve written and planned a lot.)

So, in this, I’m gonna talk about:

Titles (including chapter titles)

Dialogue

Staying motivated

Fanfic specific, including changing canon plot effectively and although they’ll apply mostly to HP, they can be changed to suit whatever fandom you are writing for!!

also How I use Pinterest

and More on chapter summaries

In part one I talked about:

Characters

Plotting

Twists (both big ones then lil plot advancers)

Soon, I’m going to write a part three and that’ll focus on first chapters!

I hope this is of use to you guys, and if it is, please consider reblogging so others can see this, too!! 💖💖 (also!! my ko-fi is here if you would like to buy me a coffee and support me!!)

also: special thanks to @starkdnvers for helping me with the gif at the top!

╰⊱♥⊱ READ PART ONE HERE

╰⊱♥⊱╮ one: titles

╰⊱♥⊱╮ step no. one: actual story titles

The way to title your story is pretty simple, really. It needs to reflect upon the entire story. You can take inspiration from things like songs, but personally, I prefer it when people don’t? Obviously sometimes there are exceptions, but for the most part, if you want an effective story title, make sure it fits the story.

Maybe it’s named after the main character. I have a fic called Briar, after the main character Briar, and I also have a fic called Morningstar, which is the main character’s surname, and her surname represents the power she has. Both of these titles reflect upon the story itself.

I’m gonna be honest, one of my fics is called Go Lightly and tbh, what happened was that it was going to be called something else, but “go lightly” was the name of playlist because the character’s name is Holly, and “go lightly” just stuck. I sort of made the phrase have a meaning in the story, which I count as an exception but again, like I said, every writing rule has exceptions.

Sometimes titles can be super hard to think of, but, if you’re like me and you like to give your playlists cute names, sometimes you’ll end up giving them a name, and then that name sticks, and works as the title. (It’s happened twice now, for me??)

The way to titling your story is thinking of what the story’s about. Do some thinking about it, maybe write down a couple you like the idea of, and normally I find that one title will just fit. Same goes for character names -- there’ll be one that just works, and until you get to that point, you just need to persevere.

╰⊱♥⊱╮ step no. two: chapter titles

I love chapter titles!! I’ve been told before that I have nice ones, and I’ve answered this in an ask before, but I’ll break it down here.

Sometimes i’ll pick out phrases from the chapter and use them, but also, i’ll look at song titles and other things. All of my fics have a whole note dedicated to potential chapter titles (which makes it so much easier when you’re struggling!!) and basically I’ll write down idioms, phrases, etc, that could work as a chapter title.

The idea is to try and make that chapter titles feel as if they have a correlation, even if only you can see it. (To be honest, I didn’t think people noticed mine, but apparently they do, so maybe others will see the correlation too!!)

So, for example, my fic Morningstar, for the list of chapter titles I’ve written down phrases taking inspiration from:

Gossip Girl episodes (she lives in the upper east side)

Old school book titles, including The Clique, Monster High, and Clueless (these all fit the main character’s overall vibe and the style that her narration is written!)

I feel like it adds another level of character to the story, if the chapter titles are written in a way that reflects upon the main character. For Clueless, the chapter titles are all a little flirty and playful because that’s what the main character’s like. I wouldn’t recommend having a solid theme (obviously there are EXCEPTIONS!) because sometimes a chapter needs a Specific Title. But, if you guys were wanting your chapter titles to have some correlation to them, this is how I do it!

╰⊱♥⊱╮ two: dialogue

This one is gonna be super short, because I don’t really know how best to explain this. I write dialogue with the intention of making it sound realistic. But, sometimes it helps me to write just the dialogue, almost like a script, before writing the scene because then I can focus on what the characters are saying. You can change the dialogue when you write the full scene, but sometimes it helps to focus just on the dialogue -- and, sometimes you sort of have an idea of how you want the scene to go, so by writing the dialogue down you know what you’re doing when you get to it!!

If you’re unsure of your dialogue/conversations sounding unrealistic, I try to keep in mind that certain people have phrases they use a lot, so characters have the same. Harry says “um” and “erm,” like, a lot. All of the Weasley kids (sort of excluding Ginny) say stuff like, “bloody,” “blimey...” You can sort of get a feel, though, for how each character speaks in the books themselves, and I’ve found it useful keeping that in mind. (But of course we haven’t heard a lot of them talking about certain things, just speaking to Harry, so if you’re unsure of how certain characters may speak to a love interest, try and keep it close to how they normally speak, but also, you can go AU if you think it’s what they probably would say.) (For this, I mean stuff like, how they say they love someone, or something.) (If you want to see my break-down of certain HP characters and how I’d write them, I have a whole list here!)

╰⊱♥⊱╮ three: staying motivated

A lot of people tell me I’m really good with updating, and like,,,, to be honest I sort of am? And like it’s not a bad thing that sometimes it takes a while for people to update,,, it’s just that a lot of the time, during school breaks, I have the time to spend on writing. I’m not saying it’s bad that sometimes people take a while to update. People are busy with school and work and life (I literally didn’t update from September to December of last year because of everything,,, and I stopped when I had exams, too) and at the end of the day, we write because we enjoy it. 

But here is how I stay motivated. (Or, in other words, how I’ve finished six whole fics, soon to be seven.)

When I get into something I get committed, and I enjoy writing the fics I write, so when I finish a chapter, normally I’ll get the next one ready to go. I enjoy feeling productive. I feel guilty if I haven’t written a story, and tbh if I haven’t been writing a story and don’t want to write it,, I’ll most likely unpublish the story because I don’t want to disappoint readers. However. There are a couple of things I keep in mind when I’m planning and such, and this is them:

I’ll commit to a small handful of fics at once. Three is stressful for me. Right now I’m writing three, but I’m at the end of one, so it’s not so bad. But I’d recommend keeping a low count of unfinished fics, because then you can focus on them.

I’ll commit. When I plan a story it will be in my drafts for a VERY long time because I’ll wait for the moment where I’ve got the time and I really want to start that story. I’ve developed it, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to start it yet. I also want to take time to see if I really want to write something. Like, for ages I thought I was going to post this one fic, and then four months later I decided against it. Taking time before posting a story allows you to sit and think, do you want to spend hours writing this, or do you like the idea?

In terms of beating writer’s block, the only way to beat it is to write. It’s annoying and you don’t want to, but the only way you’re going to get through writer’s block is if you write the chapter.

╰⊱♥⊱╮ four: fanfic specific

I’ve already addressed deciding what canon plots to use in part one, but basically, the idea is: find the plot that fits your character. There should be one that, realistically, they could be included in, and that’s normally the one I’ll go for.

╰⊱♥⊱╮ no. one: changing canon

IF SOMEONE DIES, THEY DIE.

That is the one rule. I think it’s wrong when fanfics reverse canon in that way. I don’t like it when fanfic writers don’t make a character die, when they’re supposed to, because they like the character. They died for a reason.

... But, having said that, there is one exception:

If the death was badly done, or because of your plot changing canon a little it can’t actually happen -- but they’re going to die later, instead.

But. In terms of changing canon that isn’t so... important, I think that as long as you’ve got a reason for it, then go for it. At the end of the day, view your fic as it’s own story -- if you need to change canon a little bit, to help further your plot, then do it. If you need your character to, I don’t know, kill Dumbledore, or something, and you need to do it to help further your plot, do it. I am giving you permission to make things interesting and switch canon up.

Don’t stray away too much, but if it’s every so often, what’s the harm? If anything, it’s fun and exciting for readers to see that this fic’s a little bit different.

For example: I have a Peter Parker fic, but, since I know I write better with fantasy elements (by this I mean witchcraft over science fiction) the main character Isabelle’s plot lines, such as her villains and her powers, are all based within mythology rather than science fiction. I know I write fantasy better, so I’ve tweaked it so that the main focus is my strength, rather than science, which isn’t! At all!

Same with dialogue. I’d recommend staying close to the books, or the films, but sis the books have the longest conversations. It’s fine to condense conversations, too, or trim them a little. Make sure you’ve got everything there, so the readers know what’s going on -- again, treat it like your own story,, with the idea that unless you have not told the readers something, they will have no knowledge of it (as if they’re reading your fic but have not read the source) -- but if you need to trim, trim. 

I talked about it a little in this ask, which is more on how I write the whole books, but there’s a little bit about conversations, too!

╰⊱♥⊱╮ no. two: writing canon characters realistically

I’ve touched upon this a little in dialogue, with how they speak, but normally if I’m writing a fic, I’ll look on the wiki page about them, so I know about their life and upbringing and such. Sometimes there’s things on there that you don’t think about, and if you’re wriitng with that knowledge, even if you don’t mention it, you know that character better and you’ll be able to write them better!

Speaking of -- if you’re writing a Fred or George fic, there’s a really good essay on Pottermore about the differences between them!!

╰⊱♥⊱╮ no. two point one: writing canon realistically

By this, I mean, writing locations and such like they are in the books. I don’t think any of us will notice if small things are changed, but, what I do if I’m writing during a specific class, or at a specific location (eg Grimmauld Place) I’ll look on the wiki page about that thing, and refer back to it if I’m unsure on anything. Sometimes I make stuff up, but it’s nice to know that if you want to double-check something, you’ve got the page open. (And, you never know when it’ll come in handy!! I had the Grimmauld Place one open and read something about an heirloom the Black family has, and now I can include it in my fic!!)

╰⊱♥⊱╮ five: how i use pinterest

I talked about this mostly in part one, but essentially, I use Pinterest as a means of figuring out how I imagine everything. A lot of the time I find it a lot easier to describe things if I know the specific way I’m deciding to present it, if that makes sense. It really isn’t necessary, but I like to have visuals to look back on.

Basically I’ll make a private Pinterest board, and have different sections for different things. I mentioned I have one for like a character’s wardrobe, and their bedroom, but I’ll show an example of Izzy’s board because it’s come in handy for her fic especially.

So, there are nine boards:

Moroi looks at Izzy’s superhero alter ego, with how she actually looks, and also on things like her powers

Izzy’s outfits and Izzy’s closet look at Izzy’s clothes. Outfits is for specific chapters, closet is for ideas

Izzy’s room is... Izzy’s room. Lol

Oswald penthouse is pretty much different pictures to kind of visualise Izzy’s home, so when I come to writing it I know how to present it

The Monsters has been scribbled out, but basically in that I’ve got pictures of certain creatures and places that will come into play with the villains Izzy faces throughout the story, both the little ones and the Big One. But because it’s literally spoiler city it’s blocked out

Cerberus is Izzy’s dog!! So I made one whilst I was figuring out how I wanted to present him

Marie’s valise is similar to Izzy’s closet, only with Marie (Izzy’s guardian) and her fashion. (Lots of vintage inspired because she’s from that time.)

Mary Immaculate is the section for Izzy’s school. Because I made the place up, I made a section so I know how I’m roughly describing things like the exterior, the interior, even the uniforms with the Blair pictures. Basically it’s just a way of me knowing how I’m going to describe it whenever the scenes take place at the school.

Another example is the Clueless board, which hasn’t been used as much, but like, to be fair, the only reason Izzy’s is so used is because most of it is AU. So.

Here we have:

Briar’s trunk which is Briar’s clothes (all of mine have one similar)

Beauxbatons which is me figuring out how I’m going to describe the school. There’s also a couple textposts about people’s headcanons, and tbh it’s helped out, keeping in mind how other people imagine the school to be like. (This is also super unnecessary but I also did research in the differences between the UK and France!! Did not need to do it at ALL but it’s helpful to know!!)

Carriage is basically me figuring out how the inside of the carriage looks like, same as Beauxbatons only not as much detail into it??

Honestly if you do this, the sections can be super messy if you want, it’s sort of just a way to visualise your fics! I know for me it’s really helped me out!!

╰⊱♥⊱╮ six: more on chapter summaries

OK, so. I like to write chapter summaries because it means that when I get to that chapter, I know what I’m doing. But, there are two type of chapter summaries:

The ones done ages in advance, super in detail, by the time you get to the chapter they don’t make much sense but if you’re familiar with the fic you can figure out what to do with it

The ones that are literally scribbled down before you start writing, so you map everything out. These are the ones I end up doing at the end of stories, because it’s literally a way of me being like “ok so this is in this chapter, so this will be in the next,” and having it all written down so I wont forgot my plan

Normally by the time I get to the end I’ll know how i’m ending it, so I won’t pay much attention to the chapter summaries, but sometimes I’ll super quickly write down what I’m doing so I remember. Also, with first chapters, I sort of always have an idea of what I’m doing, and I’ll just freestyle it, but I’ll show an example of a thought-out chapter summary:

It’s in detail but it’s so messy. Like, it’s difficult to explain it, because in some parts there’s me shortening words to write them faster, also there’s things in quotes because I might include the sentence in the chapter, and also there’s additional notes. (Like, how Briar will be on the train longer than Fleur, in case I mention it in the chapter.) Basically, I write down everything I need to keep in mind, it barely makes sense to anyone but me, but it helps me remember what I’m doing, and that’s the important part.

Also! Since in the fic, the main character’s a werewolf, at the top of the note with the chapter summaries I left a little message to myself about how the full moons will affect her.

Mostly it’s there so I can refer back to it, and it is really helpful. So if there’s anything you wanna keep in mind, you can always leave it at the top of your chapter summaries!! (If you have a lot of stuff, though, I’d recommend making another folder for just notes on planning -- I’ve got one for Morningstar.)

Sooo, it basically has: the monsters, chapter titles, her powers, a Bible verse lol, and then a planned out summary of part one... That I never finished... And instead made a super quick one that I have in another folder on notes, which literally just says when events will take place. (E.g., ‘Lagos,’ then ‘Start of the Bride,’ then ‘Berlin.’ Since I know what’s happening it’s easier just to jot down when they’re going to happen, as a way to remember.)

Then, the other way of summaries is the quick ones. I did this for the end of Holliday Dearest, one of my fics I finished last year, and tbh it helped just as much as a detailed one.

It’s literally the shortest thing ever, but since I knew what was going to happen, I just needed to know which chapter they’d be happening in, it really helped when I was writing it! (I literally think i wrote this on my phone before I went to bed, and like, it was just as useful as a detailed one.)

Chapter summaries really don’t have to be detailed, they just have to remind you of what you’re doing. If there’s stuff you want to include, then write it down, because you never know if you’ll forget, and even if you don’t use that thing in the end, at least you’ve written it down just in case.

For those of you that read my stuff, I didn’t do this for Briar, but then I knew the books well enough to have in mind what was going on. For Blue and Mean Spirits I made sure to write summaries because it’s marauders era, therefore it’s all up to me, basically. I’m not sure if I did one for Bones? But from Go Lightly onwards, I’ve done them for every fic, and it really helps me out!!

That’s everything for part two!! If you have any more questions, let me know!

My wattpad is here and my ko-fi is here, if you’re interested in either!! 💖

[freyjawriter24]

Advent Omens: Cookies

This one might make you a little hungry - apologies in advance! Another of my responses to @drawlight‘s excellent winter prompt list - this time Day 18, which has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages. Enjoy!

-----

When he’d set out on this project, he hadn’t thought it would take that long. A couple of months, a year at most. Not the best part of a decade.

Trying, adjusting, trying again. He was almost at the stage where he was ready to ask for human feedback – in total secrecy, of course, under the empty threat of eternal torture in Hell. He could trust the American girl, certainly, and probably her husband, and their kids could give their feedback too, but they were probably too young to understand the intricacies of flavour and the importance of the whole thing properly. Adam and Warlock could probably be trusted to keep it secret, but he’d have to keep them out of the way afterwards, because when secrets were involved, they both had a habit of grinning at Crowley in such a way that the angel would figure out something was up in about two seconds flat. Other than that, he supposed he could try it out with random humans who didn’t know Aziraphale and would therefore have zero chance of passing any confidential information on, but that was worse, because he’d have to explain things and then wipe their memories afterwards, and honestly it just wasn’t worth the stress.

But he hadn’t told anyone yet. It was almost maddening, that, having to keep something quiet for so long without even a hint that there was something there to hide. It had been a while since he’d had practice at that.

Today was the cut-off date. If he wasn’t happy with it by this evening, there wouldn’t be time for the human trials to take place so that it was ready in time for Christmas, and so he would have to work on it for another whole year before showing Aziraphale. He’d gotten this down to a fine science, both the project itself and the timings of it, and he was not going to risk mucking it all up by going over deadlines and changing everything at the last minute.

“Right, you,” he said threateningly to the tray in this hand, but determinedly not putting a miracle into it. “You’ve got to be perfect this time, okay? Perfect. I do not want this to last another year.”

He opened the oven door and slid the tray inside, hitting the to-the-second timer at the same instant that he shut the door. It began to count down, and he glared at it for a second to make sure it knew what would happen if it wasn’t loud enough or on time enough or did anything else wrong.

Then he glanced at the counter, at the pile of stuff sat there.

“Ugh,” the being who was once the Serpent of Eden said, and reached towards it. “Now for the apple.”

He worked for another couple of hours, mixing and dividing and baking, plating up the results in colour-coded tins and setting a miracle over each of them to keep them at the perfect temperature. The clipboard was marked off as each batch came out, and sat beside the tins, waiting to be filled out with all necessary details when the time came.

Crowley didn’t realise he was humming until the tune was broken partway through by a polite cough. The demon froze, then whirled around, uncovered yellow eyes blown wide.

Any faint hope he’d had that the now-adult Antichrist had been the one to break into his locked flat vanished as his gaze fell upon the softly-smiling face of his husband.

“Angel...” The word slipped out without intent, as it often did when Crowley was suddenly caught by how beautiful Aziraphale looked. But this time the shock was more one of fear and embarrassment than just flat-out love. Though there was definitely a healthy dose of that in there too.

Unnecessary blood thundering in his ears, he took in the scene, trying to figure out how much Aziraphale knew. The angel was stood by the kitchen table, the rainbow of labelled tins in front of him. Crowley himself was stood by an obviously-on oven, clearing up an obviously-floured counter, but there was no tray in his hands, no actual evidence tying him directly to the tins on the table. Maybe he had a chance? But then, with a sinking feeling in his chest, he realised the clipboard containing his own handwriting was held gently in the ethereal being’s hands, and Crowley knew he was done for. Aziraphale knew the whole thing.

The demon stumbled through a few nonsense sounds, and then eventually fell quiet. And then changed his mind immediately.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” he said slowly, quietly, and he was distantly shocked to hear how broken he sounded.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, dropping the clipboard on the table and crossing the room to him in a few quick, sure strides. The angel folded the demon to him in a strong hug, and Crowley hugged him back automatically, the contact no longer unusual or terrifying.

“If it helps, it was a surprise,” Aziraphale murmured, his chin tucked over his husband’s shoulder. “I didn’t even know there was anything I should be avoiding walking into. And it’s a wonderful surprise, too.”

Crowley mumbled something neither of them recognised as words into Aziraphale’s neck, and then resolved to just enjoy the moment for a bit. There was a time when we couldn’t do this. Something so wonderfully simple as this. He also resolved not to cry, and only failed a little.

“Are you okay, my dear?” Aziraphale asked when they finally drew apart. The angel was frowning at him in a concerned sort of way, and Crowley vanished any hint of tears with a click of his fingers, at the same time focusing on returning his irises to normal, human-like size.

“Yeah, sure, ’m fine, angel.”

“I really am sorry that I walked in on your surprise.”

“Nah, ’s not that. Well, maybe it’s a little bit that. But, I mean...” Crowley cast about for the words and ended up groaning at his own inarticulacy. “I just... It all got a bit much. That we can just do that now. Hug. In the middle of the kitchen. In broad daylight.”

Aziraphale’s face crumpled into a strange mixture of love and sadness and deep, deep understanding. “I know, my darling. I know.”

At that moment the timer went off. Crowley wavered for a second between the oven and the angel, then figured why not both and clicked his fingers as he stepped back towards Aziraphale and wrapped his serpentine arms around him. The final batch of cookies made it to the cooling rack right on schedule, and the two celestial beings enjoyed another moment that was all their own, still a novelty after only a decade being allowed that.

At some point, when they realised that the night had drawn in on the Mayfair flat, they broke apart again, limbs relaxing into this strange world where they could live together, be married to each other, and not have to deal with either of their respective Head Offices trying to murder them. They decided not to make the long journey back to the cottage tonight, and instead Aziraphale retrieved a collection of tartan blankets from a cupboard and arranged them around himself on the sofa.

Crowley brought a plate over with one of each cookie batch on it, and when the angel took it from him, he slipped under the blankets too and snuggled into Aziraphale’s soft embrace.

“They’re still just prototypes,” the demon warned. “I haven’t tested them on anyone else yet, so they might not be quite there yet...”

Aziraphale gave him a look, and Crowley shut up, nodding in acceptance.

“Which should I try first?”

The demon considered, then pointed, describing each by their major flavours.

“Gingerbread, white chocolate and raspberry, milk chocolate and orange, lemon with meringue chunks, then apple and cinnamon.” He considered this list, then nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work. Not the order I made them in, but they should all be the right temperature for what their flavours are.”

Aziraphale daintily picked up the first biscuit on the list, a simple round of gingerbread with a star pressed into it. “Very festive,” he commented, smiling prettily.

“Yeah,” Crowley mumbled. “I was going to add some bronze edible glitter or something, but that kind of messed up the rustic aesthetic a little...” He trailed off, realising how much he was giving away, and buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck. “Urmph, just try it.”

The angel’s soft fingers found Crowley’s among the blankets, and squeezed. The demon clung on in return, and didn’t move until Aziraphale had tried every flavour of cookie he’d painstakingly put together from scratch through a decade of testing and tasting and so much baking, baking, baking.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said finally, and the demon dared raise his head. The pale blue eyes were full of emotion, and for a second Crowley wondered (again) what would happen to him if he discorporated now from pure love.

“My dearest, most wonderful darling,” Aziraphale began, and there was a crack in there somewhere that made Crowley grip the angel even tighter to him. “I love you more than anything in the entirety of creation.”

“They that good?” Crowley asked, and pretended the odd note of his voice was a laugh.

“Oh, they are,” Aziraphale said, nodding and pulling Crowley impossibly closer to him. “But that’s not the point. You’ve...” The angel cut himself off, took a deep breath, and covered the break by pressing a kiss to Crowley’s forehead.

He drew back slightly and continued, gazing earnestly into the demon’s eyes as he did so. “You’ve put so much time and effort into this, into making these perfect, and that’s all for me, and I just...”

It wasn’t often that either of them cried, but they both forgave themselves for it on this occasion. The tears were heavy with millennia of affection, but they were warm with it, too, and the pile of blankets became a haven of strong arms cuddling close and gentle fingers brushing cheeks and soft lips offering kisses and endless words of love, and that was honestly all they needed.

The tins of cookies sat, perfectly warmed, on the kitchen counter for the rest of the night. They were retrieved in the morning, and offered out to anyone who ventured into the bookshop (as long as they promised not to buy anything), all of whom gave rave reviews of every single flavour.

Aziraphale encouraged Crowley to bake a batch of each to bring to Tadfield for the winter celebrations that year, and every one of the humans who tried them agreed with the angel’s assessment that they were the most delicious cookies they’d ever had. Thereafter, of course, Crowley’s baking was requested at every major event, but he didn’t really mind. It made his angel happy, and that was all he’d ever really wanted.

[gwoongi]

(draft) 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 ⎈ jimin

𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 park jimin / reader genre: siren au words: 3k

From an early age, he always loved the sea.

a/n: i decided to upload all of my abandoned works, to not only honour the hours i spent writing them but also to show how much i’ve improved. dug out this gem, definitely either a threecyphers or cosykims piece.

warnings: none apply.

*note: this is an UNFINISHED WORK that has been abandoned and therefore will not be completed in the future :3

From an early age, he always loved the sea.

At the age of three, during his first visit to the pebbled banks of a beach in a country he knew not of, he gazed with love at the way the tasteless brown waves cascaded and overturned upon milky coloured sands, a trickle of curious water leaking up into some child’s messy, damp and falling apart sandcastle. 

He loved the smell of the salt and the toe curling feeling of seaweed brushing against his toes as the waves aborted back to the deep end. He loved the sound of the gulls singing from the cliffs encircling the small, rocky cove and the lethargic noise of the waves rolling up onto the shores, and then pulling back as if allergic with an almost rewind-effect noise. And oh, how he loved the sea- the peaceful and distracting colours of muddy brown or navy blue depending on where he stood to gaze, and the curious image of the water spreading for miles upon miles for the wind and the sun to explore, no space or time for human feet to search.

At the age of seven, his mother took him to the beach on what seemed like a surprising dull afternoon, when the waves were violent and the skies were a slate colour. Jimin had stared at his mother with a perplexed expression, questioning her motives on dragging him away from his toys to stare at such a depressing sight- no children to run across the Busan sands, no umbrellas to shade them from the sun’s smile. Instead, he stared questioningly away from his mother and at the ocean itself, remembering its meaning to him and henceforth, a smile appears upon his lips, welcoming the spits of rain as he charges towards the ocean front. He let the smell of the ocean soak into his skin, the wind mess up his hair, the vengeful sound of the waves crashing like the symbols at his school’s band productions. Perhaps Park Jimin enjoys windy beach days over sunny beach ones?

At the age of eleven, he was taking trips to the beach alone with only his bike as a friend. His bike, the sea and his lunchbox.

And then, at the age of sixteen, he stopped visiting the sea. 

He isn’t sure why.

However, times changed and the seas churned until Park Jimin was nineteen, in University, with the stress hanging like heavy sacks of flour from his eyelids. Destress, Park Jimin, his brain seemed to scream at an hour of 7am, his classmates rolling out of their covers for morning lectures and half of him laughs, almost mockingly, because his classes were seemingly cancelled. Destress, and take some time off.

And so he goes to see the sea, and despite not visiting for years upon years, it almost looks the same. It’s the same sea, the same pebbles, the same dull, grey sky. Alas, he is home.

Short of breath, Jimin stands with his toes enveloped in the water, his eyes soaking up the sight of the ocean before him once more. The ripples of waves, the bubbles from fish, the fins of creatures poking up above the surface of the ocean- it all feels so nostalgic to him. A thalassophile, his grandfather had named him once from the porch of his cottage, the sandy dunes grazing upon his knees that fine evening. He always remembered the word, the meaning behind it, and how much it applied to him.

A thalassophile he is, a thalassophile he will always be.

Jimin spends the morning strolling across the length of the beach, his shoes in one hand and his hair blowing annoyingly into his eyes as he walked. His feet took him to the harbour, the pier reaching out into the ocean and underneath, a secret line of pebbles leading to the other side of the beach, towards the hidden coves he used to visit with his mother when he was just a boy. Naturally, as if remembering the memory, Jimin steps underneath the pier to walk slowly past the washed up driftwood and lazy crabs snapping their claws as he hurried by. The damp smell of old wood fills his nostrils as he walks, a sentimental smell,  that carries with him all the way until he reaches the cove. It’s just a pool of aegean blue water, swirling in the center very slowly with an ethereal glow from beneath the tide. Jimin walks slowly towards the space he always used to sit, now stolen by the sea leaving only a small space of pebbles and seashells for him to sit. He does, anyway, having missed the serene location too much to pick himself up and turn away.

The landscape was beautiful, rendering him speechless as the sun glimmered upon the waters surface, a shine mesmerising like the stars on a clear night sky. A shallow sigh leaves Jimin’s lips and his lids flutter to a close, letting the silence and the sun consume him entirely.

When his eyes close, he misses it. He misses the ripple of water crash against a boulder standing lonely in the far right of the pool; he misses the dark-grey fin slap against the rock and he even misses the strand of fiery coloured hair swim in the water. Yet when his eyes do open he sees nothing but the same as before.

But something is different; the waves aren’t moving anymore and the gulls avoid flying over the circular ceiling of the cove. The water looks darker and more pigmented with ebony hues, and- why is it suddenly so cold?

As if drawn to it, his eyes travel from the pebbles beneath his feet to the water, and he almost- almost- misses it this time. But he doesn’t, and he rises in what feels like horror- no, shock- no, admiration- as he spots a fin cut through the waves like a blade in butter. The sharp cuts smash against the rocks, towards the pebbles surrounding his shoes, like a whip in the west, the sound is so sharp. Jimin stands with his mouth hanging agape when he notices the fin attached to a tail...attached to a person.

A person, he thinks. A person.

The boy watches in curiosity as the red spirals of hair glide under the water as the person rises from the waves, shyly peering her head over one of the boulders alone in the pool. Something in him churns at the sight of her, even more when she pushes herself up on two palms to lift her body up onto the boulder, staring over at him without a wavering look. Jimin can’t help but notice- for there’s not much else he can be looking at, here- that she wears nothing on her top half, only a bare chest that he can’t help but gaze at. Her hair, actually, stops at her shoulders, cascading down like a waterfall to her shoulder blades behind her. And, almost mockingly, she spies on him with a wondering eye, innocence bleeding from her lips as she cocks her head to the side observing. He almost wants to do the same, although he is frozen in complete awe. Had he ever seen something so beautiful in his entire life?

Despite knowing nothing of her, he is mesmerised. From the way her lips are so voluptuous and blue, to the way her skin shines three dimensionally like a prism, even right down to the way her breasts curve so perkily, so round and smooth looking from where Jimin is standing from the other side of the cove. Jimin is rendered speechless, so much that he barely registers the fact that he is staring at an empty space. She disappears back under the water as quickly as she had surface, and something similar to disappointment bubbles in Jimin’s stomach. How silly of him, to have allowed something so precious and delicate escape?

The student frowns, rising to his feet and brushing off the sand that clings to his jeans. Allowing himself one final peek at the ocean, he sighs at the absence of the woman and collects his things in his free hands, carefully stepping over the driftwood and seaweed that pulls up with the tide. As his body gets smaller and smaller in the distance, the girl surfaces once more; she watches as he parts, ruffling his hair and looking back even though he could see nothing. Sourness ripens in her throat as she watches him go, as she watches him leave for the second time in her entire life. Until next time, she thinks. Will you return?

Park Jimin plans to, and next time, he’ll bring swimming wear.

His return is quicker than initially expected, she admits.

Picking fitting weather, Park Jimin fakes a sick day at University to step out onto the shores of the beach. It’s been a little less than a week, but there are many unanswered questions drowning him that he cannot cope any longer. His professor notices his wandering attention during lectures, and is actually the person to suggest Jimin taking a day off. He accepts, a little too quickly for it to be believable, and sets off towards his dormitory with little to no intention of resting away his feelings.

Instead, the boy grabs a white shirt and plain trousers before setting off, subtly, towards the doors of the dormitory and not looking back until his feet have arrived at the dusty sands of the beach he loves so much.

She watches him as he approaches the same cove as before, and she stalks his movements towards the secluded area until he is seated, in the same position, staring at the same boulder with the same expression and the same obliviousness. It’s actually, she admits, kind of cute.

Nonetheless, she waits an appropriate length of time before showing herself to him once again. She waits until he is restless, tired of waiting- she waits right up until the moment he toys with the laces of his shoes and only barely catches the flash of her hair from the corner of his eyes.

His attention is no longer on his feet but instead on her, just how she likes it.

“You are back,” she calls. And Jimin doesn’t quite know what to say.

She waits, wordlessly, and stares at him from a distance, in the same upright position with her palms flat across the ridges of the boulder. Gasping for breath, as if he were submerged under the waves, Jimin clears his throat and pulls at the collar of his shirt. She looks different, despite them only being apart for less than a week. Her hair is now chin length, and no longer a crimson colour. Her locks of hair are now a peacock shade, although darker due to the water that clings to her roots. Like before, she exposes herself to the boy standing so cluelessly on the beach, eyes everywhere, nostrils flared, heart thumping.

“Your hair,” he says without thinking.

She raises a brow: “hair?”

“Your hair is different,” he dumbly calls. “It’s shorter.”

The woman stills. “It is just hair. Your hair is different too. It is not as messy today.”

He doesn’t know whether to be offended or not, but instead he stays quiet and stares at her, in what appears to be admiration, as she stands her ground (or, ocean) by the rock. It is only when she sighs and blinks once, before disappearing back beneath the waves for several minutes. Those minutes feel like eternity for Park Jimin, who feels like he’s just been punched.

She has left again? Perhaps he scared her off with his staring. But he’s just a boy, just a kid, just a stupid kid. He can’t help his hormones! Jimin shakes his head, ridding of those thoughts as he looks back over at the ocean. It is still and dark in its appearance and he purses his lips ever so slightly, casting a gaze back down at his swimming clothes sitting untouched on the pile of pebbles by his feet. She is gone, now.

As he collects his things, Jimin slips his feet back into his shoes and starts to make his way towards the underside of the pier, ready to return back to his dorms.

“You are leaving?”

He jumps, startled, and looks back towards the pool where the girl has re-emerged, treading water idly near to the shore, watching the boy as he attempts to leave. He doesn’t.

“I thought you were gone,” he admits quietly, noting the way her features are less bright, less enthusiastic. Is she frowning? “I’m sorry.”

The girl tilts her head to the side. “What is your name?”

He opens his mouth, mockingly like a fish out of water. The mermaid (he thinks) is not phased by it, however, and he speaks loudly so she can hear: “I’m Jimin.”

A hint of a smile flashes across the girl’s lips. “Y/N.”

“You have a pretty name,” Jimin says, without really registering the fact that he just said that. Y/N smirks to herself, the corners of her mouth flicking up as her lips purse. “Are…” he starts, “you...a mermaid?”

Y/N is silent for a moment, “Of sorts. My mother bargained with a giant squid and was given an egg. That egg was me.”

Jimin pauses- “Your father is a squid?”

And the girl looks genuinely confused: “What?”

“Never mind,” Jimin is quick to brush it off. “...I...I like your tail.” He watches as the tip of her tail catches the top of the waves, cutting through the water quickly and splashing, causing ripples to quiver across the dark shades of blue.

“Thank you,” Y/N replies. Then she hesitates, looking back up at the boy through her eyelashes. “Would you like to….touch it?”

Obviously hesitant, Jimin looks at her in silence for several minutes. The sky dims to a rich, gloomy shade of grey and the wind picks up, ruffling his fringe across his forehead.

“...Can I?” he asks. He regrets asking.

“I would not have offered if you weren’t allowed to,” she points out. “You can come and touch it, Jimin. Take off your shoes and clothes and come in.”

Although he should really decline, Jimin’s feet begin to push out of his shoes, his heels digging into the sand as he crouches to take off his socks and stuff them inside. The girl watches from the water as Jimin begins to change into his swimming clothes, and she arches a brow: “What are you doing, boy?”

He pauses, “I’m getting dressed. So that I can come into the water.” He stops: “Girl.”

“Must you even dress?” she asks curiously, twirling in the water. “Come in without clothes, there is nothing to be afraid of.”

Jimin opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. “I...I would like to change.”

The girl sighs, turning to face the cliffside. “Alright then.”

He watches as she continues to stare at the cliffside and not look back, so Jimin takes this as an opportunity to change into his rather simple swimming clothes. When he is all done, facing the ocean-front winds, he takes gentle steps towards the tide and shudders when his toes are submerged in the contents of the sea. Y/N looks over her shoulder to see that he is changed and approaching, and something close to amusement rises in her body.

“Just come on in,” she calls. “The water is not cold when you are in it.”

He finds it inside of him to nod and he steps through the waves, freezing all over. Y/N watches his every movement and her tail cuts through the water roughly as he approaches. By now, the water is at his knees and her body is pulsing with excitement. She extends her arms outwards, and Jimin notices her webbed fingers and is fascinated, reaching out to hold them and she pulls him forward encouragingly, all the way until he is only breaths away from her. He realises their closeness but does nothing to try and move away. Instead, he stares right at her; he stares at her misty eyes, the stardust-like freckles upon the bridge of her nose, the way her lips part at his arrival, the way her skin is naturally highlighted and glowing in the dull sunshine.

“I have never met a human before,” she muses. Then pauses, laughing, “Well, besides the sailors.”

“I’ve never met a mermaid before,” Jimin replies. “Ever!”

Y/N smiles, “I saw you before, when you were younger. On the beach with your Mother. I wondered if we would ever meet again. And, here we are.”

Jimin is quiet, “here we are.”

bloody hell back then i didnt know what plot development meant lmao.......tragedy luv....

[startofamoment]

to all the WIPs i’ve loved before

rules: post your favorite parts of 3-5 fics that have been sitting abandoned in your drafts for ages. (for extra shame, throw in when you last worked on each thing.) tag 5 other writers to reflect on their life choices. 

a pen pals au of sorts in which jake and amy share a desk and communicate via post-it notes (last edited: december 2017)

Amy is going to murder her deskmate.

The literal trash heap that greeted her last Monday was one thing, the sticky orange soda stain from last month was another thing, but this – this blatant disregard of property and boundaries and the sanctity of office supplies – is the Last Straw.

Spread out across her entire desk is a good fourth of the Post-it notes from the brand new assorted set she got from her brother Tony. They’re all arranged to look like various Star Wars icons, and a few of them are filled in with marker for apparent color correction. It’s horrifying.

Grumbling, she begins taking apart Post-It Yoda, keeping the salvageable pieces in a stack and throwing out the rest. When she’s cleared her entire table, she grabs her favorite pen and a fresh sheet then writes:

Hi, Please refrain from wasting my Post-its in the future. Thank you. - Det. Amy Santiago

She stares at it for a moment and decides, since this is probably the only passive aggressive note she’s going to write her deskmate, she might as well add:

PS: I would appreciate it if you would leave our desk clean at the end of your weekend shifts.

After checking it over once more, she places it in the center of her desk, ready to be read the following Saturday.

a dianetti cake shop au in which rosa owns and runs a store called arlo’s (last edited: june 2017)

Gina takes a moment to look over some of the cakes on display before clearing her throat and leaning over the counter. “’Scuse me, can you help me get a custom cake order started?”

“Sure.” The baker wipes her hands on a dish towel before grabbing a small notebook and pen from one of her pockets. “What’s the occasion?”

“Some old geezer’s leaving our precinct to enjoy retired life, or something like that.”

“Retirement party? Cool. Tell me about this guy.”

“Oh, sweetie, I don’t know or care about him. I’m just here cause my boss told me to order a cake.”

A smirk forms on the baker’s lips. “Ha. Do you wanna just do a standard cake order then? I usually do the custom cakes for more personalized, special events.”

“That’s probably smart. Which one of your standard cakes say: ‘Congrats on being old and rich enough to never work another day in your life, but sorry you’re almost dead’?”

She snickers. “I don’t know about that first part, but how ‘bout an angel food cake as a ‘hope you go to heaven when you die’ sort of thing?”

Gina grins and fishes through her purse for her wallet. “Oh, you should know my expectations on this cake are out of this world high. I’m only here because Yelp told me you’re the Beyonce of baking.” (Actually, she’s here because at least three reviews claimed the baker-slash-owner was “terrifying” and “gorgeous.” – They were right, on both accounts.)

a sequel to i could listen to you all day // the “after ever after” story in which jake and amy navigate their first year together as soulmates (last edited: march 2017)

Jake’s phone buzzed on his desk, breaking him out of his happy daydream. He picked it up and opened a new message from Gina.

“god, quit making heart eyes at the new girl!! your conscience would be v disappointed, kiddo.”

Gina, who had been watching him like a hawk from her desk, expected him to get all flustered and to text or yell back something overly defensive. She raised a single eyebrow when his face instead broke into a goofy grin and he straight up giggled.

Across from him, Amy looked up from her case files. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head and mumbled something about memes and the internet.

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips curled up into a smile. After he redirected his attention to his computer screen, her expression morphed into the same openly adoring look he had on his face the entire morning.

And then it all clicked.

If Gina had stopped to think about it, she would have recognized the new disappointment she felt in both herself (for taking this long to put two and two together) and her childhood best friend (for not keeping her in the loop). As she had not stopped to process anything, she instead yelled across the bullpen: “OH MY GOD. JAKE AND AMY ARE SOULMATES!”

All work stopped, and everyone fell silent. For a good minute, all that could be heard was the faint snoring from Captain McGintley’s office.

“Gina,” Rosa half-snarled, half-whispered. “You can’t just say that.”

“Oops, my b. Y’all know I have no conscience now so…” She giggled, winked at the leather-clad detective, and went back to her game of Kwazy Cupcakes.

Jake let out an awkward laugh. “Well, uh, that was -”

Out of nowhere, Charles appeared right in front of their desks. “Is it true, Jakey? Was Amy the voice in your head all this time?”

“I -” He glanced at Amy for help.

She bit her lip and shrugged.

This wasn’t at all how he envisioned making the announcement, but there was no use denying it. Still looking straight at her, his face softened into a smile. “Yeah… We’re soulmates.”

Charles squealed loudly. ��You said the S word! Does that mean it’s official?” He gasped. “Have you said ‘I love you’? Have you met each other’s parents? When’s the wedding? What are you naming your first child?”

pretty much a crack fic inspired by the media’s post-olympics obsession with tessa and scott // my spin on a vm au bc i still refuse to write jake and amy as ice dancers (last edited: may 2018)

Like many of the other bizarre situations he’s found himself in, this all started with Gina. Over the last year or so, she’d been posting random photos and videos of all of them at the precinct. (“I’m devoting my energy to my new project, Ginazon,” she’d declared to the entire bullpen. “It’s a one-stop online portal for my legions of followers. I’m just giving the people what they want!”) Given that this was Gina of all people, Jake wasn’t at all surprised to find out that each post garnered hundreds of likes, but he’d never bothered to venture into the comments section. He’d never known about the apparent niche following that had formed, the group of fans – for lack of a better word – waiting with bated breath for him and Amy to get together.

Charles had only spurred them on, what with all the various Easter eggs on his culinary blog. (“This place has everything,” he’d written once. “My co-workers Jake and Amy even gave it their stamp of approval after they’d shared a quick lunch there before a long stakeout. Make sure to ask for the winter salsa; it’s wonderful!”) He’d sworn that none of it was intentional and that he would never do anything to sell them out, but everything he’d written had still been catalogued and analyzed by the pseudo-experts of the fandom. At this point, Jake’s main regret is not reading Charles’ weekly email blasts.

Their downfall – or rise to viral glory – came when someone from the so-called G-Hive happened to be in just the right place at just the right time, catching their (second) completely-platonic, spur-of-the-moment, done-in-the-name-of-justice kiss on camera. By the next morning, “Undercover Cops Lock Lips Before Locking Up Wanted Criminal” had been viewed on YouTube over a million times.

With everything about the entire situation already being so weird, they’d decided to just ignore their newfound fame in the same way they’d pretended the kisses never happened. (“We’re a great team. We work great together. Nothing should mess that up,” he’d said, repeating nearly his exact words from the night before.)

Evidently, there was no escaping this though. A formal press conference was set up, which wasn’t too out of the ordinary for cases that caught the general public’s attention, except they’d ended up having to say more about their dating lives than the investigation or arrest. He can still feel his heart lurching in his chest at the first relationship-related question, still hear Amy loudly stammering out some vague answer about being “very professional.”

a smutty soulmate au in which jake and amy unknowingly share dreams every now and then (last edited: november 2017)

At this moment in time, Amy Santiago is undeniably, incomparably, drop dead gorgeous.

More specifically: she’s in the hot red dress Kylie convinced her to buy on their last post-trivia night celebratory shopping spree; she’s wearing a matching killer shade of lipstick picked out by her fashion-forward, shockingly sexual 13-year-old niece; and she’s got her hair swept into that one elegant yet fun side ponytail that caught her eye in a magazine a few weeks back.

Normally, she’d be proud of herself for managing to pull off such a look, except–

It’s been a good several hours since she tossed her dress into the hamper, wiped the makeup off her face, and tugged the elastic tie from her hair. She’d buried her head into her pillow and wheeze-cried herself to sleep shortly after changing into her pajamas, so overwhelmed with shame and disappointment over the night’s party-gone-wrong.

The thick haze shrouding her current surroundings tells her she’s in another one of her soulmate’s dreams, which helps a tiny bit in explaining her current appearance but really opens up more questions than answers.

tagging: @santiagoswagger​ @three-drink-amy​ @do-me-decimalsystem​ @arnie-santiago​ @sergeant-santiago

for the record, this was inspired by @disruptedvice​ and @elsaclack​’s responses [x,x] to the writing meme!! i thought it was super clever of them to feature little snippets from various works and felt this would be a good way to give unfinished/abandoned fics some love! 

[savory-n-sweet]

May I Have This Dance?

requested by anon: 011 and 012 with racetrack higgins?? thank u ur writing is amazing!! :)

pairing: racetrack higgins x female!reader

words: 1.9K

warnings: smoking, its long as hell

princess au (you’ll get it once you read, i promise)

2017 | 1992

edited | not edited | skimmed

this has been in my drafts for so long?? like i’m talking MONTHS. but anyways enjoy. reblogs are always appreciated!!

- - -

racetrack higgins was nowhere near being a prince, or even someone that hung around royal families. his friend jack, however, was. they had paid jack to paint a mural, and he invited race as his plus one to the reveal party. race was unsure of going at first, but once he found out about you, he decided to give it a shot.

he was sitting at a round table next to jack. they were both in suits, but race’s was a rental. jack owned his, though it wasn’t tailored like everyone else’s. his pant legs pooled around his ankles, making him look shorter. however, the two of them were enjoying themselves. they were cracking jokes and engaging in pleasant conversation with the other members of their assigned table.

race felt extremely out of place. he was a poor kid while everyone else in the room was filthy rich, practically showering themselves in money. the guests were in fancy ball gowns and tailored suits accompanied by even fancier jewelry. he was insecure, more so than he’s ever been. the only accessory he had ever owned was a silver watch his father gave him.

suddenly, a hush fell over the room. he noticed the guests move out of the way, and immediately fall silent. he stood up and brushed off his pants, purely out of habit.

then, he saw you. he saw you in that dusty pink, glittery gown. he saw your smile and his heart fluttered. he watched you descend the stairs in awe. you walked with such grace and poise.

when he noticed you walking towards his table, his palms instantly went sweaty and his mouth dried.

“hey jack,” you hugged the shorter boy, smiling on his shoulder. you let go of him before noticing the drink in his hand. “what’re you drinking?”

“scotch,” he handed you the glass. you took it and downed what was left.

“thank god. planning these balls are so stressful,” you sighed, placing the glass on the table to your side. you looked over his shoulder, noticing race. you walked around jack, holding your hand out for race to shake. “hi, i’m (y/n).”

“uh, yeah i, uh, i know,” he took your gloved hand and shook it. he was extremely thankful you wore gloves tonight.

you laughed, looking down at your shoes, still shaking race’s hand.

“kid, tell her your name,” jack coughed from behind you.

“race,” he cleared his throat and let go of your hand. you smiled, glancing from your burgundy heels to his blue eyes.

he was beautiful. his curly blond hair, his deep blue eyes, and his tan skin were absolutely stunning. you assumed he was your age, maybe a little bit older. he looked like a deer in headlights at the moment, though.

“oh! jack told me about you!” you exclaimed, lightly hitting his shoulder out of sheer excitement.

“what? why?” he swallowed rather loudly. he looked like a deer caught in headlights, but you thought it was cute.

“when i invited jack, he asked to bring a plus one. when i asked who, he told me about you.”

race didn’t look any more relaxed. in fact, he looked more terrified.

“oh, don’t worry! he said nothing but good things, i promise,” you placed a hand on his shoulder, a dopey smile on your face. “i just hope you live up to those good things.”

“i’m gonna get something to drink. you kids want anything?” jack winked at race causing him to blush heavily.

“surprise me,” you said.

“whiskey?” race requested. “you have whiskey here, right?” he looked down at you.

“we have just about everything,” you grinned.

-

about an hour later, the three of you were having the time of your lives. race had had a few glasses of whiskey, causing him to relax quite a bit. you were seeing more of his smile as well as his humor. you had relaxed a bit too. the conversation never seemed to dull. the three of you were telling stories, jokes, and race even showed off how many peanuts he could catch in his mouth. race was showing off in general. card tricks, magic tricks, you name it. you loved it though. it was nice to be able to be yourself without having to worry.

“i’ll be right back,” jack excused himself, placing his napkin on the table. you looked to race, then grabbed his hand.

“wanna get out of here?” you raised your eyebrows, smiling like a maniac.

“where are we gonna go?” he furrowed his.

you got up and dragged him through the crowd. the two of you dodged too many people to count, waiters included. you ran, with him in tow, out of the ballroom and up the grand staircase. you lead him to a room far down the indoor balcony, pushing him inside first. you closed to door behind yourself, promptly locking it.

“it’s just quieter up here. and,” you pointed to your balcony doors. “fresh air.”

“it’s pretty in here. your room?” he questioned, looking over your knick knacks and photos. he held a ballerina figurine in his hand, examining it before moving onto the next thing.

“yeah. hey, do me a favor and unzip me?” you turned around. he nodded, doing so. you pushed the sleeves off your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. “god, this thing is suffocating.”

race covered his eyes and looked away. “hey! i’m still in here! don’t you want me to leave or something?”

“race, i still have the underdress thing on. it’s fine,” you smiled when you saw him peek through his fingers. “but you can stand on the balcony or wait in the hall if you’d like.”

“i’m gonna go on the balcony,” he stated as he walked toward the doors.

“okay! i’ll grab you once i’m changed.”

once he was out there, he lit his cigar. he leaned against the railing and thought for a bit. he knew two things; he absolutely loved spending time with you, and that you were very far out of his league. he didn’t know what to do or even if he should do anything.

“hey, you can come back,” you popped your head out beyond the doorway.

he didn’t look back at you. he kept his eyes focused on his cigar he kept flicking with his thumb. “give me a minute?”

you nodded, closing the door. it took a few seconds before you stepped onto the balcony. you threw a blanket over race’s shoulders, getting close to him so it covered yours as well.

“don’t want you to get cold or anything,” you smiled up at him. he smiled lazily in return, bringing the cigar to his lips. “so, how do you know jack?”

“we work together,” he shrugged. you nodded, sensing he didn’t want to talk about it.

you leaned against the railing as well, propping your head on your hand. you closed your eyes as you listened to the song below. it was fairly muffled, only becoming clear when someone walked onto the patio below. one of your favorite slow songs was playing, causing you to smile softly.

race looked at you, smiling when you did. he put out his cigar, placing it in an inside jacket pocket. he got out from under the blanket, then held his hand out to you.

“may i have this dance?”

you raised your eyebrows, then giggled. you took his hand and stepped closer to him.

the two of you swayed to the music, slowly inching closer to one another. by the end of the song, your head was on his chest and his arms were wrapped around your torso. you felt safe and comforted right there, in his arms. you never wanted to leave them.

the song ended, but the two of you stayed like that—in each other’s arms, swaying. you sighed in content, a small smile on your face. you closed your eyes, taking in the smell of his cologne.

race rested his chin on the top of your head, holding you close. he didn’t want this to end. he knew that once he left, there was a rare chance he’d ever see you again. he held his wrist high enough he could see it and checked the time.

“hey, i actually have to get going,” he mumbled, disappointment lingering in his voice. “i’m sorry.”

“what’s there to be sorry for?” you asked, following him to your bedroom door.

“leaving,” he shrugged. he was really apologizing for his thoughts. race wanted to kiss you, right then and there, but he knew it was inappropriate. he just met you, barely an hour ago. he knew life wasn’t like the movies, especially his life. nothing came easy for him, so why would this?

“you don’t have to apologize. i’m sure we’ll see each other around,” you smiled as you leaned against your doorframe.

“i hope we do,” he smiled, too.

-

it had been close to a week since you last saw him. you couldn’t get him out of your goddamned head. everything about him was wonderful. you wanted to learn as much as you possibly could about him, but you couldn’t even find him. so, you ran to jack.

he was sure to know where to find him. you assumed they were close, so you hoped he knew. if he didn’t, you were back to square one.

you found yourself in miss medda’s theater, searching for her or jack. you made your way backstage when you saw jack on the top of a ladder, painting a backdrop.

“oh, thank god. jack!” you jogged towards him. you had never been happier to see someone who was covered in paint.

“hello miss (y/n). what’re you doing over here?” he looked down at you. there was a small smirk playing on his lips.

“do you know where i can find race? i need to speak with him.”

“sounds serious. everything alright?” he asked as he climbed down be shaking ladder.

“yeah, everything’s fine,” you nodded. “do you know where he is?”

“he’s in the bathroom,” he smiled, pointing behind you. “can i have that brush?”

you handed it to him, unsure of what to say. so, you looked at what he was working on.

it was a woodsy scene. it was unfinished, but still beautiful. the sun was setting behind the trees, giving them a faint orange glow.

“this is stunning, jack.”

“thank you. it’s taken me about two days so far. i’m hoping to be done by tomorrow.”

“jack, who’re you talking to?” a familiar voice mumbled.

you turned around to see race. he had his cigar dangling from his lips while he was trying to tuck in his dirty, paint stained shirt.

“hey,” you smiled once he looked up.

“(y/n), i-i didn’t know you were gonna be here,” he took the cigar and put it in his shirt pocket. “i would’ve dressed up.”

jack snorted from next to you, then quickly covered it up with a cough. you smiled, shaking your head.

“you’re fine, race. can i, uh, talk to you?” you nervously picked at your fingers.

“yeah sure,” he gestured for you to follow, and you did. you were farther backstage with more props and equipment. “what’s up?”

“this is going to sound weird, and maybe a little crazy, but i can’t stop thinking about you. you’ve been in my head since the night of the ball and you won’t leave.”

he smiled and shook his head before pulling you into a hug.

“wanna go on a date sometime?” he laughed, still holding you.

“yeah, that’d be great,” you laughed into his chest.

- - -

[ tag list: @brooklyns-here-for-ya-erster @kingofsantafe @who-is-the-king-of-new-york @thwiparkers @newsies-trashboat  @notes-the-newsie @musical-trash-meg @rebecko @princeandreis @we-dont-sell-papes @brooklyn-anon @viennaleia @fandomscraziness22 @broadwayandbookblog @i-got-personality @king-of-newyork @heytheywascoronas @elmers-half-a-cup @papesandcigars @the-kid-blinks @purplelittlepup

n my hype beast @supremebesson ]