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warmau · 4 years

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☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au mark happy birthday mr. lee | find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong

it’s your first day at work and so everything has to go wrong

your manager is half ready to fire you by lunchtime, only because you’ve managed to knock over half a display of books, incorrectly wring up a customer, AND for some reason can’t shelve as fast as expected

all things you are embarrassed of, but are promising - nearly begging - that you’ll get better at

this is your first summer job, you need the experience

your manager grits their teeth, mumbles something about how they’ve never seen someone cause so much havoc in a bookstore - thank god this isn’t a restaurant or you would have accidentally spilled hot coffee on someone too

they wave you off, tell you to go fix that display you clobbered and you brighten up, turning on your heel

just to come face to face with a boy, unfamiliar, and wide-eyed

he’s wearing the bookstores uniform and blinks twice before springing into a smile

“hey, im mark!”

you mumble out a greeting as he takes your hand to shake. his smile is so bright, it nearly causes you to bump into another shelf

which mark realizes quickly enough as to outstretch his hand and support your elbow before you go tumbling

“sorry!” you squeak “im a bit of a klutz,,,,”

he grins, his teeth show and you’re reminded of the way newborn kittens look when they’re yawning

“no sweat, i am too!”

the bookstore you work in is small, and you’re not exaggerating when you compare it to the size of a tightly compact closet - tucked neatly between a larger cafe with a backyard garden and a tailors shop thats been closed all summer long

at first you don’t really understand why it needs two employees, but then you look at the schedule and see that mark’s position isn’t the same as yours

in fact, he’s the delivery boy for people who place orders to the store

it’s confirmed once again when you see him riding down the street on a beat up, but loved yellow bike that he chains to a stop sign outside the nearby cafe

he waves at you when he comes inside, you shyly avert your eyes back to sweeping the front steps of the store

but when he walks past, you smell the same scent on him that hasn’t changed in the two weeks you’ve been here

a mix of raindrops on forest leaves, blueberries, and general airiness you’ve never really encountered before

his rucksack is filled to the brim with books wrapped in brown paper, and rolls of magazines and newspapers

his white converse slowly get scuffed as the days of summer roll on by

and your heart also grows softer for him too

you think it mainly starts when mark comes in early about halfway through summer and starts helping you sort the shelves

you didn’t ask him to do so, he just decided he would

and you two silently work side by side, until mark gets the courage to start humming to himself too

at some point, he starts singing under his breath too, it’s a song you know so you join him at some point mid chorus

and he turns to you with sparkling eyes

“you like this song?”

“it’s one of my favorites!”

he reaches out to high-five you, and you feel your cheeks get hot when he takes a hold of your hand in his palm when you touch

the next day, he comes in early again and this time hands you one of his earphones

you both look over your shoulders to make sure the manager is slacking off in the back, before mark turns on his playlist

and you two just enjoy the music - shelving books - and exchanging glances when you hear any shuffling noises from the stock room

see that’s how it start - and then comes along the lunch breaks

you eat earlier than mark, simply since you work the morning and he only comes around in the afternoons

but you move from eating in the back to eating on the corner of the cafe, as mark leans up against his bike and reads through the orders he has to deliver

“ah - another order for jung jaehyun”

“oh! i know him!”

you perk up and mark tries hard to hide the slight disappointment in his voice because you just sound so,,,,,,,,,excited

“o-oh is he - is he your -”

he almost wobbles right over his bike chain

“your boyfriend?”

you laugh, shaking your head - “no! no, i know him from class. he’s not my type at all.”

mark looks like he wants to ask what you type is but you check your watch and jump up, your thirty minutes are up!

“do you want my dessert?”

you drop some taffy in his palm and rush back to the store without waiting for an answer

mark stares down at the candies and grins to himself.

ah, well if jaehyun’s not their type than maybe someone more like me.......

one of the servers from the cafe, a boy around you and mark’s age, jungwoo befriends you

coming out during lunch to share whatever the cafe might have as specials, usually savory rolls and iced drinks

you three group around mark’s bike until you’re called back to work

and one afternoon, jungwoo asks mark just as you once again rush back to the store

“are you two dating?”

“what!”

mark’s ears go cherry red

“huh, well it’s just you look at them like they’re -”

jungwoo puts his hand under his chin and then snaps his fingers

“ah! like they’re your whole world!”

mark tells him that’s NOT true, and he makes jungwoo swear not to mention it when you come around

but it doesn’t stop him from thinking about you for days after without stop

you’re thinking about him too

with every bookmark you place in a customers bag, with every display you set up, with every new shipment you carry into the back

you just ,,,,,,,,,,,, want to see mark - and when he comes through the door - it’s like the bleak, sticky summer day turns refreshing and colorful

finally, just as the summer season creeps closer and closer to fall

you find yourself alone outside the store and mark is coming back from his last delivery

“is the manager gone?”

“yep, he asked me to lock up!”

you dangle the keys and mark leans his bike against the little bench outside the shop window

“hey, before you do - i need to get something inside.”

“ok!”

you open the door, the bell at the top softly jingles through the darkness

you and mark go inside and he weaves his way through the books and behind the counter

he rummages around and you lean over to see what he’s looking for

just as he pops back up, his hoodie in one hand - he realizes you two are inches apart now

your upper body leaned over the counter and his slim figure on the otherside of it

even in the darkness, he can make the outline of your features

and he wonders if you can see how red he’s gotten

your mind is empty of thoughts because you two can make out his features

his handsome jawline, his doe-eyes, his almost jealousy inducing long and pretty eyelashes

you close your eyes first and mark swallows down the rock in his throat as he leans over

his hoodie drops back to the floor and his hands shake so he holds the corner of the counter as his lips press gently against yours

it’s sweet, it’s perfect, but - it’s short

because the door opens again and you both break away in terror - only to see jungwoo in the frame

“huh, i thought the shop was close- oh am i interrupting something?”

you and mark both shout a definite, “no”, that actually sounds more suspicious than either of you mean it to

jungwoo’s laugh echoes as he closes the door behind him and adds a, “ok suuuuuuuure”

when you step back out into the summer night with mark at your side - you’re both too shy to look at the other

but your hands brush and mark’s pinkie locks on yours

it’s quiet, the busy street silent as every business is closed and the bustling crowds are at home to escape the humidity

“do you want a ride home?”

you turn and find mark’s already looking at you, his eyes warm under the street lamps that flicker on the ends of the curbsides

“sure, but - how will we both fit on your bike?”

you feel wobbly, but mark assures you you’ll be fine, his bike might look old but she runs like a charm

and with that he kicks off the stand and starts peddling, you on the back where his rucksack usually sits full of books

you’re still unsure so you wrap your hands around his waist and mark makes a small noise he’s happy you don’t seem to hear

he bikes you home in the comforting silence of a dawning night

when he drops you off outside your house, you don’t get off for a second - head buried in his back

“mark?”

you whisper

“hmm?”

“will you kiss me goodnight too?”

now, all these years later, that old bike is broken and somewhere in the attic

as are those uniforms from the bookshop, mark’s hoodie that he left with you that night, and the photo you took on your last day of work

you and mark are holding each others hands and grinning, the manager is barely managing a grimace, somehow jungwoo is even in the photo

you think one afternoon that you should go get that photo and frame it, it’ll look so nice next to you and mark’s wedding photo

mark turns to you and agrees, maybe he’ll get that bike down too so he can fix it up

and you two can take another ride, just like you used to, all those years ago

#mark lee and bikes just works like ............... the concept is just god tier you know?#nct scenarios #nct au #nct imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee au #mark lee imagines #nct #mark lee #super m scenarios #super m au #super m imagines #sfw #member: mark lee

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omniswords · 4 years

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Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 1

because we all really wanted smitten!Luka so I’m making it happen, PERIOD. slight AU? canon divergence? where Luka begins to frequent Tom & Sabine’s bakery when his sister needs a pick-me-up through her first year in university, and may or may not have a thing for the new girl at the register once summer vacation hits. and tweets about it.

(yes, i’m still working on La Joconde! only two parts left :( but i hadn’t posted any lukanette content in a Hot Minute and wanted to share a bit of what i’ve been working on. enjoy, loves!)

at T&S for mom and sister and oh god there’s a cute girl i’ve never seen at the register

Post.

i think she’s got flour on her nose, and she probably doesn’t even know it’s there, and she’s adorable

Post.

send help

Post.

That’s the magical thing about social media, isn’t it. The cool, casual, even bored expression you sport in a waiting room or on the subway is a master at hiding away every all-caps rant you swipe out with your thumb. At keeping every moment you want to scream, excited or outraged, under lock and key in your chest while your fingers do all the talking. At cementing the lines in your brow and your lips while you broadcast how much you’re Gay And Dyingggg—and yes, you really need the capitalization and those extra letters for the emphasis—over the image of a kitten falling asleep mid-meal. The viral-video echo of a child’s singing in a big-box store. The pretty girl in the coffee shop with the floral cloth headband, the nude lip, the grey eyes that stop you in your tracks and somehow always seem to meet yours whenever you Just So Happen to look up.

It’s those capital letters, you know. They really do wonders for emphasis. Emphasis.

In a city like Paris, the hundreds of thousands of people you could pass in a single day would never know the intimacies they could stumble upon by happenstance. The ones you choose to share with a few hundred strangers, friends across oceans or friends of friends who happened upon you or lovers of art the way you love art, because the distance and the screens make it safer.

In Paris, almost no one knows who Luka really is, aside from a blue-haired busker downtown who sometimes frequents coffee shop stages. Or some guy who delivers their evening meals when they don’t feel like cooking. No one has to know. And he’s been fine with that for as long as he’s had these accounts.

He wouldn’t call himself a stranger to the internet. He hardly could; he’s a product of it, raised by it, like most anyone else his age. Frankly, he could go so far as to call it his third best friend—third, because his sister and his mother might fight him for not putting them first, and because he values them enough to put them there. But on the metro, he’s near invisible, and online, he’s Sort Of Someone. A set of hands and a guitar and strings of notes to pull in a few hundred admirers, and even fewer friends he’s never met in person. He doesn’t have to, he’s decided, for them to mean something.

And he’s getting the keen sense that they’re all already hanging onto his last three tweets. Or will be, if they’re not already awake yet. (He’ll never understand that—his body almost never lets him sleep in past eight, no matter how late he goes to bed.)

He has to gather himself before he goes in—which is hilarious, because he must have been to Tom and Sabine’s bakery at least a hundred times by now. Or at least, enough times that they know him by name and to save him a napoleon or two whenever he’s in the area. Is it really that difficult this time because of a girl?

And then she… whoever she is, she smiles at a customer, and it looks like utter sunshine, and almost instantly he wishes she were smiling at him. Just for a few seconds.

Yep. It really is that difficult.

With a flip of his stomach and one last post—all right, prayer circle before i place this order—Luka pushes into the tiny bakery just as the customer is coming out. He shuffles among the racks and display cases as though he’s in a museum, and given the care that goes into these decorations, he might as well be. Usually it’s Mrs. Cheng who’s at the register, humming along to some classical piece they’re playing overhead—it fits her, being so traditional—and there’s a stack of finished cake or pastry orders beside her on the counter. The orders are still there this time, but the music sounds younger; it must be one of those study playlists he sometimes finds online or touches upon when he needs some extra inspiration for his own music.

And there is the girl, with her chin in her hand and the flour still on her nose, absently twirling her pencil as she stares down at a sketchbook like she’s about to get into a fight with it. She doesn’t look bored there. Actually, Luka isn’t sure he’s ever seen anyone so focused before, because even the bell over the door signaling his entrance apparently hasn’t gotten through to her. If anything, she looks like she’s toeing that impossibly thin line between mellow and frustrated, if the quirk in her lips or the pinch in her brow is anything to go by. Even from a distance, he can tell that her face is soft, that her lashes are beautifully long, and that she probably barely has to do anything with them. If it weren’t so weird, or showy, or even creepy, he’d probably stop in his tracks at the door and watch. Try to make up a song about her, for her, on the spot.

Luka takes a deep breath, readjusts his gig bag on his shoulder, and takes a few quiet steps up to the register, still keeping his distance. It isn’t until he clears his throat that she looks up, and he’d swear that he’s never seen eyes so… so blue, before.

He’s never played a song this color before, and he wants to. Instantly.

Before he can get a closer look at the sketches, one that would have been entirely inadvertent, the girl squeaks and snaps her book shut, immediately apologizing for not noticing him right away. Her fingers twitch a bit, but she smiles cordially in spite of them. There it is. That sunshine, just for him. “Welcome to Tom and Sabine’s. How can I help you?”

Luka wonders if that’s just her Customer Service Voice, or if she always sounds that sweet. Either way, somewhere inside him a cork pops, and warmth floods his insides, just for having heard it. Now that he’s this close, now that he’s really heard her, he’d think she’s only a couple of years younger than him. Nineteen or twenty, maybe. “Hi,” he says, as smooth as he can manage. Maybe it’s her first day; he knows some of the woes of customer service, even if most of his work experience has been in food delivery and not actually processing the orders. Maybe he can ease some of her nerves. “I was wondering if I could get something to go.”

“Oh! Sure thing.” The girl brushes some flyaway dark hair out of her eyes, twirls her pencil again, and taps a few colored squares on the tablet in front of her. “What can I get for you?”

“Let’s see…” He already knows the orders by heart, because in spite of their penchant for chaos and unpredictability, the Couffaines don’t mind anchoring themselves to some things. So much so, in fact, that if it were Mrs. Cheng at the register, she wouldn’t even have to ask. She’d already have the box ready. It’s just that he doesn’t want to overwhelm this girl right off the bat, even if he does have the feeling that she’d look even cuter with a blush. “An opera cake, a pear tart, a fraisier”—that’s for Rose, because he wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still over when he gets back. He goes slowly, gives the girl the chance to look for each item in the menu on her screen before punching it in, just in case she’s ever had customers who were less kind.

Yes, that’s definitely the only reason why, and it definitely isn’t because he wants to spend more time at the register, and has that liberty to do so since there aren’t any other customers in the shop and since he’s done with work for the day.

“Anything else?” the girl asks, her voice slightly more clipped now that she’s in the rhythm of it. She cocks her head, more at the register, and quirks the edge of her eyebrow. Maybe she’s more seasoned at this than he thought. Or maybe she just sinks into this mood when she sets to work.

He kind of likes it. Like, a lot.

But that would be incredibly weird to say, to her face or about her online, so he holds his tongue. “Yeah, um…” He looks around, narrowing his eyes at some of the display cases. “Has Mr. Dupain made any napoleons today?”

The girl’s eyes light up a bit, which makes him smile. “I’ll check,” she says—chirps, more like—and flits toward the room in the back like a hummingbird.

Oh, no.

She’s so cute. Too cute.

She’s back in seconds, before he has the time to agonize about it any further. “Yup, we have them. How many would you like?”

“Just the one.” Luka’s already fishing out his wallet from his back pocket. He holds his breath, card in hand, pushes it into the chip reader. “Say, is Mrs. Cheng… doing all right?”

The girl blinks a couple of times. Is it really that weird to ask? “Yes…? She’s fine. She’s just traveling—she went home for a bit to see her family. She’ll be back in… three weeks?” She trips on her words a bit, not in the way that she can’t recall, but in the way that she doesn’t want to be too forward in her speech.

Huh. Mrs. Cheng didn’t mention anything about a trip the last time he’d been here… “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen you around here before.”

The girl smiles faintly, tearing away his receipt once it’s printed. “Well. I guess that makes two of us.”

Oh, she’s good. He doesn’t even know what to say to that.

She flits around the tiny bakery, different pairs of tongs in hand as she assembles his order, and Luka finds himself tapping out the melody of the current song against his thigh. “Nice music,” he says to make conversation. “You pick it out?”

“Uh huh.” There’s that clipped tone again. “Sorry, I know it’s kinda basic—”

“It’s cool.” He pauses. “Uh. I mean, the music is cool.”

The girl looks up from one of the display cases. It might be the lighting, or the distortion of the glass, but he thinks she might be blushing. “You… said that already?”

“Right—right.” Luka clears his throat, leans back against the wall with his arms folded, and resolves to keep his mouth shut and his eyes down. He knows he’s blushing; his face is too hot for him not to be. She’s working, he tells himself. He can’t bother her while she’s working. Still, he can’t help idly tapping the toe of his shoe, or pressing his fingertips into his arms, to that same rhythm, the same melody. At least that keeps him grounded. He only wishes there were lyrics he could mouth along to to make it easier.

He’s about to dip into his own mind, try to find a song that would do the trick, when he hears his name. “Luka?”

Instantly, his head snaps up. The girl is back at the register, a beige box with a gold sticker in her hands, and she holds it out to him. “Yeah,” he says, doing his best to stroll casually to the front and take it from her. “How’d you know my name?”

The girl looks at him, half-confused, before mutely holding up the receipt. On the bottom, along with the last four digits of his debit card number, is his name in tiny capital letters.

Oh. Duh. He heaves a nervous laugh, and on the inside, he’s looking away with wide, mortified eyes. He takes the box from her; the sooner he gets out of here, the sooner he can kick himself. “Thanks. Could you tell Mr. Dupain I said hi?” And also, could you tell him how dare you for hiring a girl who has no right making my heart stop on her first day working?

She nods, twirling her pencil one last time, and Luka’s off with a wave and a mutual exchange of, Thank you, have a nice day! And the instant the door closes behind him and he turns the corner, he sets the box aside, slides down to a squat, and rests his face in his hands, eyes wide and trained on the ground.

In Paris, no one knows that Luka Couffaine is even capable of being an anxious, smitten fool.

Once he’s churned out as many anxious, shaky feelings as he can—once he’s replayed her smile and the sound of his name in his head enough times—he pulls out his phone.

god, i hope she has a nice day. i hope she finds twenty euros on the ground.

Post.

#fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #COME GET Y'ALL FOOD LUKANETTE FANDOM #i have the urge to make a playlist for this fic but rest assured there is a lot of billie eilish on it

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basilgrimbitch · 4 years

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Day Eleven/Twelve: Maniac

I’ve very clearly fallen super behind on the countdown but December is always just so busy. I’m just gonna post when I can. This is a short fic for the angst/song fic prompts. Not my best work but I wanted to write something. the ending is a bit open ended? make of it what you will.

Words: 2079

Note: the song is Maniac by Conan Gray

No warnings, hope you enjoy :)

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SIMON

I walk into the flat and throw myself onto my bed. Can this week just be over? Crowley, I know I’ve had worse. Way worse. I just thought once the humdrum (and my magic) was gone nothing else would hurt this much, but I feel like my heart’s been ripped out, like I’m being drained all over again. That’s why I tried so hard to stop myself from caring so much, placed a distance between us for so long, some kind of wall. But he made me want to break all those walls down just to see him. Now I can’t.

I grab my phone out of my back pocket and start scrolling through Baz’s Instagram because, really, what else can I do anymore? Penny’s at some party with Agatha and well yeah that’s about it. I should go out, do something, do someone. Fuck, I miss Baz.

My phone rings briefly and… oh shit, it’s a text from Baz.

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Friday 21/10

Baz <3 [23:44]: Snoww

Baz <3 [23:44]: simoon

Baz <3 [23:45]: i fucked up, fuck fuck fuck ii fuckedup

Baz <3 [23:45]: sory

Read 23:4

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Shit he’s drunk. Is he like all alone drunk at home? Or is he out, getting drunk with his friends or minions or whatever the fuck he wants to call them. I don’t know what would be worse. I don’t want to think about this; I don’t want to think about Baz or his hair or his rosy cheeks when he drinks or the fact that I miss him. I can feel the thoughts of him swarm in my head and I try my best to push them back. I used to be good at this. Not thinking. My head is beating like crazy that I can hear the thumping headache.

I decide I’m going to stay in bed and feel sorry for myself until further notice. I put my playlist on shuffle and oh of course, some Conan Gray, it’s like my phone knows I’m not coping with this break up well.

You were with your friends, partying

When the alcohol kicked in

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Friday 21/10

Baz <3 [23:51]: u kno wa fuCK YU

Baz <3 [23:52]: this not myh fualt

Read 23:55

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My phone is still chiming and the thumping in my head is still going. I go into the kitchen to grab some Panadol and water and the thumping is louder and louder. Aleister fucking Crowley, it’s not thumping it’s the door knocking. What? How? Why? I look at my phone and it’s close to quarter past midnight - and I have six missed calls from Baz.

So, you showed up at my home, all alone

With a shovel and a rose

Do you think I'm a joke?

Of fucking course. Let me just paint you a picture: Baz Pitch plus London rain along with the drinking attitude of a 50-year-old Irishman and a bouquet of flowers (if you can still even call them that; they’re destroyed.) and of course wearing a scowl that says, “I still broke up with you.” Because the git still can’t get over himself, even when he’s drunk at my door holding flowers at midnight.

I want to slam the door in his face. I probably should. But then I hear myself saying,

“Are you okay?”

FUCK!

He takes a deep breath, “Yeahh, yeah… well no.” he’s slurring his words a bit. A month ago, I would’ve teased him about it and kissed him. Now I just stare at him.

“Why are you here, Baz?”

He thinks to himself for a second, I don’t think he knows. I don’t think he knows what he’s doing at all. But for once I know what I’m going to do.

Cause people like you always want back what they can't have

But I'm past that and you know that

So you should turn back to your rat pack tellin' 'em trash

“Baz, you should go.”

“But-”

“As long as you’re fine and you’re not driving, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Wow. I didn’t think I could ever do that. He was so gorgeous, Merlin, he probably would’ve let me kiss him.

The next few days are kind of a blur. The weekend flies by and then it’s just work, uni and sleep. That last one is a lie, I don’t sleep very well. I want to say it’s uni stress or its work or something, but I know… I know its Baz.

When Penny starts mumming me about the bags under my eyes and my slumped shoulders, I blurt out a line about how crazy my classes have been, but she just nods knowingly. I can’t keep anything from her.

“Si?” I hear Penny say a bit hesitantly. Penelope Bunce is not hesitant.

I look up at her, confused.

“Have you spoken to Baz recently? Have you been texting him?” I’m sure she doesn’t mean to sound like she’s accusing me of something, but I can’t help but feel like I’m being interrogated. I haven’t spoken to Baz since he showed up at my door on Friday night. Penny doesn’t know about that though; she’d freak out.

“No.” I don’t trust myself to say anymore.

“I just overheard Baz today. He was… you know what never mind, as long as you know what you’re doing. As long as you’re okay.” Penny’s waving her hands at me like she wants me to forget what she just said but there’s no magic in her words so its only bothering me.

“What, Penny? What did he say?” it comes off too eager. But I am! Eager, that is. What is that git saying about me?

Tell all of your friends that I'm crazy and drive you mad

That I'm such a stalker, a watcher, a psychopath

“He was just saying that you’ve been pestering him to get back together, that you drunk texted him on Friday or something of the sort. And then he… yeah.”

“Then he what?”

“It doesn’t matter Simon. You’re both still just angry. Basil doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“And what is he saying? Apart from the fact that I’m basically stalking him. That dickhead needs to get over himself, it’s the other way around by the way. He showed up here! Drunk! On Friday!” I’m yelling now. Whatever, it’s better than crying. I wish I could cry right now.

And tell 'em you hate me and dated me just for laughs

So, why do you call me and tell me you want me back?

You maniac

“He said he doesn’t know why he ever dated you.”

“Oh.” And then I am crying. Penny is instantly holding me, patting my hair, kissing my temples, telling me he doesn’t mean it, but I just shrug her off and go to bed.

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Thursday 27/10

Pen [15:22]: you okay?

Pen [15:30]: Simon we live in the same flat and I’ve seen you like twice this week.

Pen [15:54]: can we have dinner together at least? Just us at the flat. No you know who talk I promise.

Read 16:03

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Thursday 27/10

Ags [16:15]: trust me I’m all for the privacy/alone time thing. But like??? Were here for u. just call me yeah?

Read 16:17

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I get a whole bunch of texts from everyone. Well Agatha and Penny and a few uni mates (that’s everyone), a bunch of angry messages from my manager because I took the week off and some emails from my professors about assigned work. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m doing or what I want. No, again, a lie. I’m doing nothing and I want Baz. But I guess now that we’re not dating, he has no reason to not be a prat again. So, really, I should have no reason to want him back. Except I do.

I want his black wavy hair to be the first thing I see in the morning again. I want to wake up to the sound of the kettle boiling and warmth beside me where he spent the night. I want to go for walks at 3 am because we both couldn’t sleep. I want cold lips smashing into my face after a stupid fight about throwing my stuff around his flat. I want him. Here. Now. That’s not what you need though, I can here Penny say it in head. Though I’m sure it is; I don’t think I’ve functioned normally since this happened.

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Saturday 29/10

Dickheadwhoregretsdatingme???? [21:43]: Snow I swear I wouldn’t contact you if it weren’t important, but this is and yeah sorry.

Read 21:43

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And then he calls.

“Simon?” I melt into my phone a little, I miss the sound of my name on his lips. He doesn’t sound drunk, but he does sound different. “I’m so sorry I just, it all happened so fast and now I’m calling you because I can’t call my parents or they’ll kill me and my friends, they’re bloody useless. Aleister Crowley, I’m so sorry.”

“Baz, what’s happened?” How am I the calm one? What in the world of mages is happening?

“I crashed my car.” He’s calmed down now.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Are you alone? Are you okay?” Suddenly any semblance of calm is gone and replaced with unmoderated anxiety. He knows I fucking love him. Merlin and Morgana, why would I hide it now.

You just went too far

Wrecked your car, called me cryin' in the dark

Now you're breakin' my heart

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I don’t know why I called.”

“You don’t sound fine.” And then because I have no self-control, “Where are you?” There’s a brief silence. Fine don’t tell me.

“I’m at the corner of Smith and Dundas.” He sounds ashamed.

“That’s at the top of my street.”

“Yeah.”

And, again with the no self-control, “I’m coming.” I hang up before he can argue with me.

I don’t get a chance to l look at myself. I know I’m wearing mismatched socks and the same joggers I’ve been wearing all week. I look down and realise I’m wearing Baz’s old t-shirt. How fitting. I’m throwing on some trainers and I can hear Penny asking where the hell I’m going so late. I don’t care.

It’s only a five-minute walk but even that is too long, so before I know it, I’m running to his car. It’s been backed out from the light post I assume he hit and parked a bit lazily by the pavement. Baz doesn’t do anything lazily, but then again Baz doesn’t get drunk and he doesn’t crash his car and he definitely doesn’t drive anywhere near here if he doesn’t have to.

As I get closer, I can feel my heart beating faster and faster, and its not from the running. His head is resting on the steering wheel and I can’t see his face. Fuck. What if he has a concussion? And then without thinking I’m opening the right car door and holding his face so close to mine. Crowley, his eyes are blood-shot, his face is streaked with tears and he’s just looking at me fangs popped and eyes wide. How could I ever let him go, I should’ve fought harder.

“Snow.” He finally croaks out and that’s when I realise, he’s been sobbing, he takes a deep breath and buries his head into my neck all while whispering sorry, I don’t know why I called, you don’t need to be here, but he makes no effort to remove himself from me, so I don’t leave. I wouldn’t anyway.

So, I show up at your place right away

Wipe the tears off of your face

While you beg me to stay

I detangle his hair as I feel the pool of tears forming on my shoulder. I pull him up to look into his eyes. Baz’s eyes, so grey, they’ve always been so beautiful. His cheekbones are pronounced and his flushed – he must’ve fed recently. That’s good.

“Are you okay?” I ask and it feels like it’s all I’ve been saying to him for weeks now.

“Been better.” He tries to smile but his eyes betray him, and he starts tearing up again. He brings a hand to my cheeks, “you’re here.” He seems to realise what he’s doing, how he’s holding me, how I’m holding him while were broken up, so he tries to pull his hand away quickly, but I stop him.

“Of course.”

#coc 2019 #carry on countdown #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #break up fic #more so post break up fic #song fic #im too lazy to tag but yeah this is kinda eh

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socialistexan · 5 years

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Magnus

Magnus's playlist (and the rest of the 7 really) happened because I was picking songs for Taako's playlist and thought "oh this would be good for this character, so I just kinda started thinking more what would fit, and boom here it is!

I will say, out of the 7, Magnus's playlist is best if listened in order at least up until Work Song, very much recommended. The idea is that the playlist starts light and fun and free, but then a tragedy happens and then it get deeper, with some reprise of the light stuff in there later, finishing with, well, the end of the campaign really.

Themes: Loss and redemption, rustic hospitality, valor, grief, overcoming weakness, hope in tragedy, tough guy persona

Action Movie Hero Boy: This is the song that made me make this playlist. It just screamed Magnus, it also helps that it's one of my favorite Lemon Demon songs. This goes for Can't Keep Johnny Down and Don't Stop Me Now.

"I'm looking tough, I got the stuff, I got the spiffy shades. (spiffy shades)"

"Hey, look at me casually walking away / like action movie hero boy in slo-mo / everything glowing and blowing to bits right behind me".

Critical Hit:

This is a reference to Travis's *ahem* uncanny ability to get crits and high rolls at juuuuust the right time. Also references a healer that's on the ground dying, a wizard that's burned his spellslots, and a fighter that's taking too many hits. That's it. That's the Bois.

Dustbowl Dance / I Will Follow You Into the Dark / Jules / Redemption Day / Work Song: this is the Fall of Raven's Roost and it just about killed me emotionally when I listened through it when I was done. I'll just pull some choice lyrics from the songs, but this is the section that really should be listened to together (I know people like to shuffle)

"I placed all my trust at the foot of this hill / And now I am sure my heart can never be still / So collect your courage and collect your horse / And pray you never feel this same kind of remorse"

"Love of mine, someday you will die / But I'll be close behind / I'll follow you into the dark"

"Jules, I feel sorry for myself / 'Cause I'm dreaming of touching your skin / And staring at your eyes"

"I woke with her walls around me / Nothin' in her room but an empty crib / And I was burnin' up a fever / I didn't care much how long I lived / But I swear I thought I dreamed her / She never asked me once about the wrong I did"

"When my time comes around / Lay me gently in the cold dark earth / No grave can hold my body down / I'll crawl home to her"

In the Aeroplane Over the Sea: this songs kind of a joke-y cliche in indie rock adjacent circles because it's kind of ubiquitous for people in that scene in my age group, but I think it fit.

"What a beautiful face / I have found in this place / That is circling all round the sun / What a beautiful dream / That could flash on the screen / In a blink of an eye and be gone from me"

Letting Go: what really stuck me about this song is how the writer/singer described it. The letting go can mean letting go of multiple things, but the most important thing is letting go of baggage and moving forward with your life despite or even because of what you've experienced.

"It's getting hard for me / To reframe all those shifting memories / Like a music box that / Never starts dancing by itself / What a broken world, what a broken world / But it's my own / Just to see you, to see through you / I step inside"

Little Lion Man: I did some snooping into other Magnus themed playlists and this was the most common song, and it's for a reason. For my purposes, this is towards the end of the campaign, and Magnus is sort of reflecting how far he's come since the beginning.

"Weep for yourself, my man, / You'll never be what is in your heart / Weep little lion man, / You're not as brave as you were at the start /Rate yourself and rake yourself, / Take all the courage you have left / Wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head"

"Tremble little lion man, / You'll never settle any of your scores / Your grace is wasted in your face, / Your boldness stands alone among the wreck"

Mannequin: post-Wonderland, I think that's kind of obvious lol.

"I'm a dead man walking / Every step, a weight I have to bear / Feels like the whole world's watching / I'm as hollow as their empty stares"

Voidfish (plural): Someone was getting this song and Magnus made the most sense because of his relationship to Fisher. This is the endgame part of the playlist.

Bonus: Raven's Roost (I promise it's not as depressing)

#magnus burnsides #magnus taz #the adventure zone #taz balance

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purplefictionmom · 7 years

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I'd normally be like "ALL THE QUESTIONS" but I'm really interested in 7 and 15 (but like if you wanted to do them all then hell yeah pls do)

You know what, Imma answer them all, cause I love you darling~

All answers under the cut, cause I’m sure I'll get long winded, as usual haha

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?I mean, there was a story that I had been sitting on for...10 years, I think? I just didn’t know how I wanted to tell the story. It started as a mockumentary type of thing, then when that didn’t fit the narrative style I wanted to tell, I moved to a classic modern fantasy style, but that didn’t pan out either.

Then, the game called “What Remains of Edith Finch” came out and it hit me so hard that I nearly passed out: that is the perfect narrative style for the book idea I’ve been sitting on!!

Incidentally, if you haven’t played/watched someone play it, “What remains of Edith Finch” is an excellent game and Jacksepticeye does a wonderful let’s play of it :D

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?Not as much anymore, but I used to hate bringing up “...And the Things That Followed.” Just for a short what-for: ATTTF is a Left4Dead/2 fanfiction, reader-insert that started as a sort of experiment: I perused lunaescence and picked a fandom that I was familiar with, but that didn’t have a lot of fanfiction to choose from. I mostly wanted to see if smaller fandoms stay active, even with very little content to choose from. And boy, did I get my answer.

The biggest reason that I ended up embarrassed over it was because I hadn’t intended it to be a romance fic (I mean...the two main characters are the reader and a Hunter, and what with necrophilia being really gross and all...), but I had readers out and out demand for it, to the point of going on strike from reading my fanfic. This was years ago, mind you, so I caved like a wet noodle and now hate that particular fanfic, to the point where I don’t even want to write the two sequels that I already had planned and half-written.

So, it started out as embarrassment, now its more I wish I could just delete it and forget it exists, but I’m one of those authors who has a really hard time deleting anything, even things I hate haha.

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?For the very first, ultimate scene I picture in each fic/story/novel, it could really end up anywhere in the final version.

After that first initial scene I see, I try to start as far back as I think I can get away with and move forward from there, so I guess the short answer is I write from beginning to end, no matter how it ends up being at the end, haha.

4) favorite character you’ve writtenI guess this is supposed to not include characters I don’t own, but that’s no fun so here you go:

OC: A supernatural Hunter named Silva and another hunter (who I have an rp blog for) named Theodora ‘Timmie’ Wilson

Non-OC: Writing Yusuke from YYH and Asgore from UT

5) character you were most surprised to end up writingI’m not quite sure what this question means, so I’ll just take a stab and guess it’s talking about how a character can end up differently on paper than how you first envisioned them in your head.

And that award goes to Silva. I expected her to be a hard, cold killer, but she had so much inner turmoil and hidden thoughts that she was definitely the hardest character to write until I actually started to understand her.

Which took an ungodly amount of time, tbh haha.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change nowProbably how often I use the double-hyphen. Its meant to be an alternative to using commas (which, I use to many as it is anyway haha), but now they litter my writing like popcorn on the floor at a midnight release, haha.

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?Honestly? A little of both.

I’m someone who sees fanfiction (and any fanwork at all, tbh) as legitimate art forms, but there are so many who not only don’t agree, but they belittle and question those who participate in fandoms.

There are days I have all my shit together and I’m ready to defend my fanfiction to the death, along with all my original content; I have my sources, I have examples, so on and so forth, but other days...

Well, let’s just say there are days I don’t even volunteer that information to people willingly haha.

8) favorite genre to writeOther than fanfiction, I love horror, fantasy, and scifi the best, though there are plenty of times it feels like I’m hardly writing for any of those genres at all, haha.

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?Fanfiction, most of the time, but I also listen to songs on the radio, discuss ideas with friends/family (my step-dad was the only person when I was growing up who nurtured my love for telling stories and many of my ideas for novels came from talking with him over the years), or I also like to free-write.

At least, I think its called free-writing haha. I basically just put my pen on paper and just talk to the page with my pen. Sometimes, its just a rant, but more often then not, I’ll find a story or character hidden there.

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?All of the above, haha. In the perfect atmosphere, music is playing in the background, and I’m completely alone with no distractions, but since that’s not reality, I’ve sort of forced myself to adapt to what I can.

My computer (where I do 90% of my writing) is in the living room of my house, so my hubby is usually around, and if he’s playing overwatch, then its usually a few voices playing in the background.

If it gets to be too distracting, I just put headphones in, but I also write in notebooks and I take those everywhere, so for that, I just write when/what I can as I go along.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?Definitely dialogue, but also my prose. Honestly, all of it, haha. I look back at stuff I wrote years ago and I wonder how anybody thought I was any good, haha.

12) your weaknesses as an authorIf I had to pick one, its probably that I tend to either over-explain, or under-explain. There is no in-between, haha. My first drafts are often a mess of me focusing in on the details of one room and then not describing a setting for two chapters or more.

13) your strengths as an authorProbably my ability to logically follow order of events, even though I don’t plot, like, at all. This also makes it easy to see where I can divert from what’s expected and explore different avenues.

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?Not really? I tend to either put my whole library on shuffle, or I have a dedicated writing playlist that’s full of background music from video games and other things like that.

15) why did you start writing?It started as an outlet.

When I was about 10, my dad came home from work one day while my mom was still at work and while I watched, packed all his stuff into his car, called my mother and told her that if she didn’t get off work soon I’d be home alone, and then left.

I was in a complete and total depression from around then until well into my late teens (I have a little depression now, and a slew of other problems, but now for diff reasons). On top of my dad leaving, my mother, step-father and I all moved to a completely new state, where I started to bomb academically and had literally no friends until almost a year later.

It started out as angsty pre-teen poetry (a lot of which actually still pretty good, even as I go back to read it), then it spilled into fanfiction and fandoms, and around the age of 13--once my step-dad found my love of writing and wanted to pull me away from fanfiction--I finally started writing original ideas out.

16) are there any characters who haunt you?Silva, and a few others. Not so much because their stories are left untold, but moreso because of the way they helped shape me as a writer and the things I was interested in writing about.

The debate about whether or not a writer should write about a certain subject usually stems from readers, but I tend to lean toward the argument from a writer’s point of view: there are subjects that I broached as a teenager that I needed to explore in order to be who I am today, as a person and as a writer. Not to say I have something horrible in my writer’s past that I wouldn’t be able to share, but more that it might be questionable about the age that I delved into those topics. (and no, I don’t mean just smut, though that is included in what I’m talking about)

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?Stop wasting your time trying to please family members with what you write. Most of them are going to ignore the whole of your writing and focus in on the one swear word you threw in for characterization anyway.

Write what makes you happy; whether or not its publishable isn’t the point. You’re just starting out and you need to write; to get better, to learn the ropes, so just go WRITE!

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?Oh geez...at the beginning, everything I read affected my writing style. Fanfiction, published novels, everything.

Probably my biggest influencers would be “The Green Mile” by Stephen King, “The Hobbit” by JRR Tolkien, “This Present Darkness” By Frank Peretti.

And while these are hugely different authors with different writing styles, they more influenced me in my way of thinking. Of expanding my imagination of what could be if I just had the courage to write it.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?I either have a notebook filled with notes about characters/information, or I use a website called Hiveword(dot)com. It’s a novel tracking website that also advertises its program (which you have to pay for), but the website itself is free and you can store all the information about your book, characters, timeline, etc.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?Both, but I get more done with longer sessions. I know that seems like a no-brainer, but its more because of how I prep myself for my writing time:

I have to have a glass of water or cup of coffee, I have to have my music playing (which, with spotify could take a few minutes to load), I have to re-read the last page or so of what was previously written so I can get back into the feel of it, then I can actually sit down and write.

the little spurts end up being in my notebooks and they’re a mess, honestly, haha.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?I used to cringe and close it immediately, but I’ve been trying to analyze and see the biggest differences in my writings from a then and now standpoint. Sometimes its really hard, if its particularly bad or whatev, but its been a real confidence booster when I can see where I was and where I am now.

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?Not uncomfortable, per se, but I tend to try and think of things from a reader’s perspective at the same time I write, so there are times when I get a little too involved in what’s happening on the page, haha.

HIAPOTS was a terror to write at some points because of this.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?All of it, if I’m being honest, but obscure things specifically? Hmm...

I mean, probably the fact that I give all my pets personalities and conversations between each other? I do it without thinking, but there are times where I’ll find myself using lines or situations from this weird little thing in my actual writings, haha.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?OMG SO MUCH. Like, idk about ‘expert’, but I have so much useless trivia in my head because of being an author. Talk with me for an hour and see if I don’t throw ‘fun facts’ into the mix of our conversations haha.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud ofOh ugh...umm...let me to look...

From a currently unpublished reader/sans fic I’m writing:You understand, don’t you, Sans?

Sure, Sans understood. Sans always understood. He was the one who didn’t make waves, or overturn boats--you could always count on Sans to be the reassuring nod when you felt lost or the understanding ex who’s perfectly okay with just letting things die, even though the ending came as the greatest punchline ever written in history:

He hadn’t even seen it coming.

(I love delving into characters’ heads, and i love it more when i can do it well enough to feel comfortable with letting other people read it, haha)

From Part 6 of my Garrus/Reader serial fic:“They were my cases,” Garrus admitted, his eyes finally leaving Castis’s in favor of looking at the floor, “And I can’t watch it happen again.”

If Castis didn’t have such a steely reign on his composure now, Garrus might have been clued into his father’s line of thought. As it was, Castis was being forced to realize that he had been wrong in his assessments of his son.The older turian had always thought Garrus shirked the rules and regulations as a form of rebellion, since Castis stepped in and forced him to quit training for the spectres--as if to prove he didn’t care about what his father cared about. Now, Castis realized the reason Garrus pushed them aside so easily was because he did care, maybe too much.

(Honestly, the whole argument between Castis and Garrus in this part of the fic is something I’m proud of)

#wowee look at me go #elainapoststhings

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