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duckprintspress · 3 years

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#writing advice #duck prints press #original content

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16woodsequ · 3 years

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I have three questions about writing fanfiction and you’re the best fanfic writer I’ve seen so I’m going to ask them to you if that‘s alright

1. How do you write a lot in chapters, because I never manage to write more than 1k words about the chapter topic

2. How do you stay motivated for writing a long fic?

3. Do you have any tips about how to deal with a large ensemble of characters?

First of all, I'd like to say how happy and honoured I am for this ask! It made me so happy you thought of me. I'll do my best to answer helpfully.

My response ended up being pretty long, to I'll leave it under the cut.

In general, my chapters are between 3k to 6k. I find 4k-5k is a good range for me. Before I talk about writing more in chapters, I think it is important to say that short chapters are not wrong. Short chapters can be wonderful to read!

If you want to work on writing more, I have a few suggestions. First though, the way my writing style works is I go into a story generally knowing the basic plot points, and I write all the chapters first, before I post them. So keep this in mind, since my techniques might need to be adapted for your style.

When starting a chapter, I have what I call the 'bone and meat' method. To write around 5k words, I find each chapter has enough room to explore 3-5 "events". These are the bones of a chapter.

As an example. I will use chapter five of "Alternatively", because I'm guessing you read that one. (If not you can send another ask with some you've read and I can use those).

The bones of this chapter are:

Prelude/set up to Steve learning about Bucky.

Pierce taking Steve to see Bucky

Steve having a breakdown in the elevator

Steve and Tony talking about it

These are the four main things that needed to happen in this chapter. I don't always start a chapter knowing what will happen at the end, but usually by 500 words in, I've figured out what out of my plot points will be happening in the next 5k of words.

When deciding what will be the bones of a chapter, I find I have two systems. Either I give the reader a satisfying cathartic ending, or I leave them in anticipation.

Chapter five is a good example of a mini-arc within a chapter that ends with a satisfying emotional catharsis. If you think of it along a story plotting graph, the prelude is the exposition, Pierce taking Steve to Bucky is the conflict/rising action, Steve's breakdown is the emotional climax of the chapter, and Tony and Steve's conversation is the falling action/resolution.

The ending event of the chapter feels natural, because while the story isn't finished, the emotions and events of the chapter have been tied together and dealt with for the time being.

An anticipatory ending for a chapter would be more like a cliffhanger, and would probably end near the climax of whatever plot points are happening. (Such as chapter 3 of Alternatively, the emotional climax of the chapter hits right at the end.)

So basically, your overall story has rising action and a climax, but if each chapter is roughly outfitted around that too, then it may be easier to write long chapters.

Once you have the bones of a chapter, all you need to do is add in the meat to fill out whatever word count you are aiming for. If you have written the bones of a chapter, but still aren't at a word count you like, then it is simply a case of adding more depth to what is already happening—showing the emotions of the characters, getting into their head, bringing up past events and relating them to what is currently happening, foreshadowing, describing the scene/senses, etc.

Please know that when I'm writing my chapters, I'm not obsessively planning out the steps of a chapter and thinking of all these things constantly. These are just patterns I've noticed after the fact, so they are not hard and fast rules.

As for how I stay motivated for long stories, the thing that works best for me is writing all the chapters before I post the story. I know this system doesn't work for every author (and believe me, sometimes I really want to post), but I find doing so relieves pressure on me, and I don't feel guilty if I don't write a story for weeks or months because I am working on something else.

That being said, for my large Alternate Timeline series, I didn't have time to write all the chapters ahead of time. By the time I was writing The Alternate Handler, I had about a 10 chapter lead.

Things that helped me stay motivated is finding parts of the story that I really wanted to write. I usually write chronologically, so having moments that I knew where coming and I was excited for helped motivate me to continue.

Also, recognising that I sometimes made things harder for myself. Sometimes I'd be stuck on how to finish a scene, or expressing something, and my writing would slow, until I would realise that sometimes things don't need to be written in exact detail. If you don't know how to get a character to walk out of a room, sometimes you can just end the scene there. Unless something is plot relevant, you can write around it, if it is an issue.

Sometimes, if I'm stuck on a story or a chapter, it helps to take a step back and figure out what the actual blockage is. Often it won't be what I think it is. Sometimes it isn't because I don't know how to write it, or I don't know what to write—sometimes I can't write a scene because I haven't seen the movie in a while, and all I need to do is find the battle on youtube and rewatch it. Sometimes it is because I don't know how an engine works, and I need to either look up the information, or make a note of it and move on to another scene.

And sometimes you just gotta clunk out a scene word after word, because once you do, it will be done, and you can always make it better later. You can't edit what isn't written.

Writing Marvel gives me plenty of opportunity to deal with large casts. Generally what happens is I end up focusing on the relationship between a few main characters, while the other characters have less focus.

In my Alternative Timeline series, the relationships between Steve, Bucky, and Tony are the focus.

Of course, this doesn't mean I want to forget about the other members. You'll notice especially in Bucky and Tony's stories that they have secondary relationships with other people like Natasha, Bruce, Clint, Pepper, Peter, and Nebula. These secondary characters get scenes with the main characters too, kind of on a rotational basis.

So first tip is to trim down how many characters you are focusing on, and how many characters are interacting with each other in each scene.

In fics I will often have Thor be away on Asgard, or Clint and Natasha doing missions, etc, so they don't get underfoot.

That being said, there are times like during group meetings, when you can't avoid having everyone in the same room.

In those times, it is important not to forget who is in the room. I will literally count on my fingers, or write down lists of who is supposed to be at the table, so I can remember.

A good example of this on a small scale is Steve's birthday party in chapter 14 of The Alternate Handler. That one has almost every Avenger but Thor sitting in a circle, playing a game. I had specific moments in mind, so I needed to remember who was sitting by who. I wrote down the names in order so I wouldn't forget, and could properly situate people in my head.

An example on a bigger scale is chapter 26 of The Alternate End. In this chapter, the Avengers have a meeting with practically every other character who was there at the final battle.

Yet again, I pare down the cast a little. T'Challa and Shuri aren't there because they are in Wakanda.

To help keep control of the larger group, I start with a vague idea of where everyone is sitting, and then don't go into deeper detail than I have to.

In the scene, we know the Guardians, Peter, and Thor and Loki are all sitting kind of near each other, but I don't specify who is sitting next to who unless I need to.

I also have Tony looking around the table for a few hundred words, seeing each group, and slowly but surely introducing them to the reader. Tony hasn't seen the whole group for a while, so he has a reason to catch the reader up to speed on what has been happening. While he thinks about the life developments of the people around him, the reader starts to get an idea of who is in the room, and their general mood.

A final tip I often use is staggered entrances. If you have a large group, and something Plot Worthy needs to happen when Character A and B talk, then don't have the meeting ready to start right away.

Have some people already sitting, so that your POV character can process them, then have some more people come in, and then some more. (I do this in chapter 19 of The Alternate End, before the time travel jump.)

With a big group, you need time to show what needs to be shown, so give yourself the space to breathe and give the characters the right amount of attention.

I hope these tips and notes were helpful. Feel free to come back with more questions, or details about your own writing style if what I said doesn't work nicely for you!

And remember, these are just tips, not the golden rule.

Have a great day!

#asks #anon #writing asks #writing tips #writing suggestions #writing help #writing #fanfic writing #story writing #chapter writing #plotting

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danteinthedevildom · 3 years

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A Royal Pajama Party “Analysis” - Part 4 (of 7)

We’ll skip over the Jenga scene for now; there’s nothing I really want to add on from it, and typing up another post is going to kill me. Instead, we’re going straight to the next activity - and a fairly major split between choices.

This Devilgram is absolutely spoilt for choice when it comes (ironically) to choices - and each one brings about something new to learn. You can consider some of these latter parts joined up, then; I’ve just grouped together different route options for sake of reading.

Of course, we’re deep into the Devilgram now, so all territory covered is locked behind Story Keys! This is your cursory spoiler warning.

Here we begin, back to our regular schedule of Diavolo angst.

There’s a potential you thought “watching a movie together” was bad enough to write on a list of things Diavolo’s never experienced before, and wants to share in this rare moment of time he’s managed to attain alone with you. Perhaps you even thought “playing Jenga” was worse.

Neither of those activities, however, have anything on the concept that Diavolo actually, genuinely wrote down, on his list of things he’s always wanted to do with you, “lazing around, doing nothing at all”.

This is, I think, the biggest indicator that he’s just... never had an actual, genuine, casual friendship before. He’s never had someone willing to spend time with him doing nothing.

Which - well. We already knew that. He’s told us before (as I mentioned in part 1) that he genuinely struggles to remember he can just invite you over without having to trick you with “event planning”. He forgets you’re willing to be around him.

But there’s a difference between “oh, I forgot - you actually don’t mind spending time with me” and “I’ve decided that I want to schedule actual time to just do something so simple and basic, it usually happens when most people hang out, but I’ve never been able to experience it before and I think I’d enjoy that time with you more than anything.”

It hurts to realise most demons won’t spend time in his presence without reason, but it’s actively worse to realise this reaction means he cherishes the ability to do nothing with you. To just savour the fact that you’re there, you’ve stayed, and you really would be happy doing nothing at all. That someone can enjoy just being in his presence, nothing important going on, because they have nothing else to do but focus on him and they don’t mind.

It’s proof that he’s really enough. Proof that, despite how reluctant others may be to put up with him, you see something in him worth enjoying. He doesn’t need to take you out anywhere, or do anything special. He doesn’t need to make it perfect. He doesn’t need to awe and wow you to stay by his side.

He can just sit around, nothing planned, and you’ll stay.

The only times he’s been able to keep demons at his side, he’s had to tie them down with oaths and pleas. These demons have expressed annoyance, at times, when he’s tried to spend time with them - admittedly because they are busy demons, and they don’t quite enjoy the same things as Diavolo, but that doesn’t exactly make the rejection feel much better. So it’s very possible that Diavolo struggles to recognise his own self worth.

It’s very possible that he doesn’t think himself a good enough reason to enjoy a night in. Most friends can say - and often do - that they happily spend time together just hanging out. Talking, lounging around, relaxing, but not really doing much more than basking in the other’s company. Yet Diavolo can’t. Experience tells him “Diavolo’s company” isn’t enough to make someone stay.

That’s why it’s important to him to schedule this time in, despite how natural it should be. It’s not natural to him. It’s exceedingly rare, actually, and thus an activity he wants to enjoy when he has the opportunity for it.

But it’s also a reminder - proof - that at least to you, “Diavolo’s company” means something. That, to you, he means enough on his own to be worth spending time with.

Moreover, this time with you is likely dear to him due to how busy his usual schedule is. After all...

How much free time does a prince get?

How much time can he spend doing nothing, especially with you - someone so desired, people actively fight over your time and attention?

There is no better way to savour the fact he - for once - has all your time and attention, no pressing matters to attend to, than to do nothing. He can just sit there and enjoy you. No interruptions. No distractions. Nothing to fret over or worry about. Just the two of you, content in each other’s company. It’s a reassurance. A moment of, “wow, this is really real, isn’t it?”

More importantly, however, is the fact that it’s you. He’d love “nothing more. Together with you, that is...”

He doesn’t want to be on his own. That’s not the point of the activity. It’s not that he wants to do nothing, that he wants to just sit there and read or eat some fruit as if those things are significant on their own. He doesn’t just want free time because he’s busy and overworked and doing nothing is fun.

It’s specifically because you’re there. Because he’s not alone. Because these things he maybe does in his free time feel different when he’s doing them with you.

Of course, if you noticed, there’s two choices he gives you above: read, or eat fruit. I’ve gone for the reading option for this post series, as the fruit open mostly gives a romantic lead and not much development otherwise.

In this scene, Diavolo’s reading a book to you. It’s actually a single poem from an anthology he loves - from the Human World, once again.

(The Human World seems to mean a lot to Diavolo. It recurrs a lot. When he’s given the opportunity to pick something, it’s almost always media from the Human World. Whether this is because he hopes it’ll help you two bond over common ground or he just idealises the Human World, or maybe even a bit of both, is uncertain. Interesting, however, that it’s cropped up twice now; even more interesting that the only things he chooses that are Devildom-themed are games and food - things that don’t reflect human culture as much, unless you know more of the context behind them.)

The poem Diavolo reads is called “The Greatest of All.”

This poem is extremely significant for Diavolo. It’s a huge part of his characterisation in this chapter, and one of the more overt scenes at that - because he’s exceedingly clear that this poem didn’t make sense to him before. He makes it utterly transparent that something has changed - in him, in his life, in his understanding - to suddenly reveal the meaning to him.

And it’s all because of that final point.

“Only those beloved by their peers truly rule the earth.”

Diavolo’s a prince. He quite literally rules the Realm he was born in. As far as he’s aware, that’s all there is to ruling; be the monarch, and you’re there. It couldn’t possibly be more literal than that.

So what does that final line really mean, to a prince? What does it mean to someone who really is the literal definition of “ruling the earth”?

Almost nothing at all. It’s baffling. It’s nonsensical. How more truly could you rule than to physically be the demon in power?

Of course it would never click for him before.

He’s never been beloved before you.

It’s only recently that he’s understood the poem. Only recently has the Exchange Programme been in action, and only recently has he actually gotten closer to you - moreso in the much later Lessons.

Diavolo has spent much of his life in power, but completely alone. He’s had almost no connections, no friends, no love or intimate, personal attention; no-one he could say he understood like the back of his hand, who understood every aspect of him in turn.

He has power and wealth but he’s never truly ruled - not until someone who made him feel alive came into his life.

Because that’s the point of this poem. It’s not about wealth, or power, or bravery, or support - it’s about being loved.

You could have everything in the world, but you’d still be nothing compared to the person with little to their name expect the love of their friends.

Only someone who can say “I have friends who’ll stand beside me through thick and thin; who love me as much as I love them; who see the qualities in me even I didn’t know exist; who bring out the best in me and make me want to be better” is truly great. Only they can say that they have achieved the greatest potential in a fulfilling life.

Diavolo’s realised how empty his life was prior to you appearing in it. He’s realised just how little he had - how much he’s missed out on, how much he wasn’t getting from the other people he considers friends - and how much happier he is now you’re there. How much bigger he feels. How much stronger. How much greater.

You are the change that helped him make sense of the nonsensical. You, in befriending him, have utterly changed the way he exists; how he feels, how he experiences, how he thinks. You’ve brought to the table things he never would have considered before - things he never would have been able to consider, because he needed a friend to help eek them out of him; a friend he could love, and cherish, and whom loves and cherishes him just as much - and quite suddenly, he realises why having no-one limits a person no matter how much they own materially.

This poem is, very likely, the reason he understood how much you mean to him. At some point, he re-read it, reached that final line, and pictured you.

Which is an incredibly poetic way for Diavolo to show just how much you mean to him; how much you’ve improved every aspect of his life. Without having to say your name, or overtly connect you to the poem, it’s clear that it’s about you - that you’re the reason for his understanding.

Becase this poem means a lot to him, and you’re the person he wants to share it with; the one he wants to know he’s changed for.

Which perfectly leads us to this next part...

You’re his greatest person. He’s still dancing around it, but there’s really no-one else it can be - not with this description.

Diavolo has spent - if not his entire life, then a good portion of it, wondering who the most important person to him would be. There’s no way to quantify something like that - to know who’s the greatest person in your life, to find the perfect fit for a list of requirements - because everyone needs something different from the people around them. But what would that person look like for him? What would the most important person look like for a prince?

Someone as royal as he? Someone who supports him, bound to his service? Someone who has no choice but to help him in every way?

Or would it look like a human - a plain, simple, ordinary human - brave enough to tangle with demons and kind enough to befriend them, even when they don’t deserve it?

Someone willing to spend a night with him doing things others might find boring or rudimentary?

Someone who makes him feel like more than a title; like more than the “Prince of the Devildom”?

Someone who’s changed him - however many thousands of years old he is - in such a very short span of time?

When you think about it like that, really, it could only have ever been you.

+++

And thus concludes part 4! A middling one this time, I think; a bit long, but that final part was a little shorter than I had anticipated. Still, I hope you enjoyed it, and that it was easy enough to read!

Next post, we’ll be going over the concluding parts of the Devilgram - for the romantic route, at least. It’ll initially go over the scene that preceeds the choice between romantic and platonic, but then dive straight into the romantic aspect of the chapter.

So, if you’d like, please head over to part 5!

#obey me diavolo #obey me analysis #obey me

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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The Ranch {8}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: We love that you guys have been loving this so much! Please continue to let us know what you’re thinking. We loved writing this fic, and your love means the world to us.

The Ranch Masterlist

Cassian didn’t see or hear from Nesta for the rest of the day. He saw her in the main house around dinner time, but decided he would let her cook in peace. He didn’t know what kind of demons had reared their ugly heads at her today, but whatever had happened between Nesta and Tomas Motherfucking Mandray had screwed with her so badly that he barely recognized the woman he found in the paint department today.

He remembered Nesta from high school, had known that she had dated Tomas then. But, he didn’t know much. At least, not about Nesta. As for Tomas, however, he and Cassian went way back, and none of their interactions had ever been pleasant. Tomas had always been a self-absorbed little bitch. He hated Tomas.

And he had hated him even more when he walked into the paint aisle and saw how fucking terrified Nesta had been.

Yet, he wasn’t going to push her to talk about it. She would come to him when she was ready. Maybe. Hopefully. Either way, Cassian had convinced himself that it was none of his business.

Even if he really, really wanted it to be his business.

As night approached, Cassian made sure all the horses were ready for bed, and all the cattle were where they were meant to be. He whistled for Beau to follow him into the cabin and, the good pup he was, Beau obeyed. Once inside, he slumped into the recliner and checked his phone.

There was a text from Rhys that read, Being engaged is fucking awesome. It ended with three flame emojis. Cassian found the text as a whole repulsive and unnecessary.

There was a text from Azriel, too, that read, Drinks on Friday? Elain is working all night.

Cassian dismissed it, making a mental note to reply in the morning.

Then, he had one last text.

From Nesta.

Thanks for today. Sorry I spaced out.

He read the text once, twice, three times before finding the nerve to reply. Anytime, he wrote. He wanted to write something else, anything else, wanted to add a fucking speech at the end of the one-worded text, but he decided against it.

He pressed send.

It wasn’t two minutes later that he got a reply. You should be sleeping. You’ll have to wake up early to get on the stables, won’t you?

Cassian chuckled to himself. Maybe. But you have to be up early to do your makeup before you finish the landscaping, he replied.

Her reply wasn’t as quick this time, the dancing dots disappearing every so often. But when his phone finally vibrated while he was brushing his teeth, he laughed out loud.

Don’t act like it takes me more time to do my hair than it takes you to do yours. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those man buns are a little TOO perfect sometimes.

He replied with no hesitation. Glad to know you’re looking at my man buns.

He swore that he could feel her eyes roll from across the property. Goodnight, Sexy Ranch Hand.

Goodnight, beautiful.

He sent the text, hoping it would bring her a little bit of joy, a little bit of comfort, but then, when she didn’t reply, he grew nervous.

He felt he was walking a fine line with Nesta, ever since she scolded him for being his boss.

His hesitation didn’t last too long, though, because his phone vibrated the minute he climbed into his bed. The text was short, but it gave him comfort.

A smiley face emoji greeted him as Beau climbed up on the bed beside him.

He slept good that night, smiling stupidly to himself as he snuggled up next to Beau. And when morning came, he felt completely refreshed.

He was up and getting dressed with a cup of coffee at four, and as sunrise approached, Cassian grabbed a bag by the door and he and Beau were walking out into the cool, muggy summer morning. It wouldn’t be long until the sun was beating down, drenching him in sweat.

Instead of heading toward the stables, Cassian went across the grass and the gravel driveway, and up the steps of the tiny, modern house that sat there.

He pounded on the door and Beau stayed in the yard, chasing his tail.

No answer.

He pounded his fist on the wood once more.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Cassian kept knocking, and didn’t stop. He pounded repeatedly on the door for at least thirty seconds when the door was thrown open, and Nesta stood there, looking like she wanted to set him on fire.

“What the hell?” She asked, voice raspy, hair a mess, body wrapped in a crocheted blanket.

“Rise and shine,” Cassian grinned. “Go on. Get dressed.”

Her eyes narrowed as she flipped on the porch light. Cassian lit up as she groaned from the brightness of it.

“You wanted to learn how things are done around here,” Cassian laughed. “Well, I start at sunrise, ever day.”

Nesta rubbed her eyes and snorted. “Unless you’re hungover.”

Cassian grinned. “Fair enough. Alright, go on, get dressed, I’ll wait.”

Nesta sighed but didn’t protest as she took a step back.

“Oh,” Cassian said, before she could close the door on him. “Here.”

He held out the bag.

She blinked. “What is that?”

“I kept telling you,” he said, shaking the bag until she took it. “You own a ranch. You need a pair of boots.”

“You...bought me boots?”

Cassian shrugged as she took the bag and shoved his hands into his pockets. “With your sisters’ help. Consider it your welcome home gift.”

Nesta was speechless as she slowly went back into her little house.

She didn’t bother closing the door, so Cassian stepped inside as she went back into her bedroom.

He looked around, although there wasn’t much inside. He noticed Elain’s old furniture, that he had helped move in upon Nesta’s arrival.

“Hopefully they fit,” Cassian said as he went to the little fridge in the kitchen and looked at the pictures that covered it. “I may have snuck a glance at your sneakers the other day when you weren’t looking to check for size.”

Nesta’s quiet laughter flooded through the hall. “Creep.”

Cassian grinned to himself as he studied a picture of the girls when they were young, smiling with their mother. Cassian had never met her. She died years before Isaac had hired him.

Nesta came out a minute later, and even in the dim lamplight, Cassian was breathless.

Her hair was pulled back in a high point tail. She wore jeans, a tank top, and an old flannel shirt, which remained open.

And her boots, which fit nicely.

“Okay, stop staring,” Nesta muttered. “I realize you’ve never seen me in boots and it’s shocking.”

Cassian cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as he nodded. “They look nice.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and her boots thumped toward the front door. “Yeah, yeah. Alright, let’s do this.”

Cassian allowed himself to watch her walk out the door and down the steps before he followed her out.

————

“Harder.”

Cassian grunted.

“Harder.”

He groaned, but did as he was told.

“Harder!”

Cassian was out of breath, but he said, “This is as hard as it gets, I don’t know what else you want from me.”

Nesta gritted her teeth, but still managed to roll her eyes. “I want you to try harder.”

He grunted and said, “Okay, okay, put it down. Stop pushing.”

They both moved away from the enormous roll of hay they’d been trying to roll through the south pasture. It had rained overnight, nearly doubling the weight of the hay and Cassian had suspected he needed a little more muscle than what Nesta had to offer.

“I’ll have to call Rhys,” Cassian said, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. Nesta was folded at the waist, her hands braced on her knees.

“No, we can-.” She stopped to breathe. “We can do it. We got this”

He chuckled, “Nes, that hay weighs over 5 times your weight. We absolutely do not got this.”

Her lips tightened as she sized up the roll of hay. “We-.”

“Nesta,” Cassian breathed, laughing quietly. “It’s not a big deal. Your ability to move a roll of hay doesn’t dictate your ability to run a ranch. Well, own it, I run it.”

Nesta couldn’t help the smile that tugged on the corner of her mouth. “You’re incredibly annoying.”

“I know,” he grinned, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, once more. Nesta’s eyes lingered a little bit too long on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans, which were hanging loosely on his hips. He didn’t seem to notice as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Rhys. “Rhys will be over soon, I’m sure, he has the day off. Unless your sister kept him up all night.”

Nesta scrunched her nose. “No need to reference my sister’s sex life.”

Cassian’s grin widened as he put his phone back into his pocket. “You wanna go for a ride?”

Nesta stilled, and her hesitation made him howl.

“I meant on a horse, Nesta,” he said, unable to control his laughter. “Calm down.”

“Asshole,” she mumbled. Her cheeks were red, both from the sun they’d been in all day and the blush now tipping her ears as well. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I don’t have a horse. I’m okay.”

Cassian had an eyebrow raised. “You actually have eight.”

“I have-.” Nesta paused. “Oh. You’re right.”

But not Phoenix.

“Hey.” Cassian’s voice was soft and she looked up, not expecting him to be so close. His hazel eyes were the color of the forest floor. As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “You’ll never be able to replace him, Nes. You’ll never get back that bond with him. But that doesn’t mean you can’t build another bond with another horse.”

He was right, of course, but she hadn’t been on a horse in nearly a decade. The thought alone terrified her. Yes, she was beginning not to mind being back in Velaris, had even started enjoying herself while working on the B&B, but to ride again? She wasn’t sure if she was ready for such a huge step.

And it was.

A massive step.

Yet, Cassian’s eyes were so full of hope, and the way they watched her, so softly, Nesta couldn’t say no.

Didn’t want to say no.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Fine.”

Cassian slowly shook his head. “I need to hear you say it with a little more enthusiasm.”

Nesta pursed her lips and shoved him in the shoulder, which only made his cocky ass grin return.

“Come on,” she said, heading in the direction of the dilapidated stalls the horses stayed in. She walked about twenty feet before she realized he wasn’t walking with her. “What?”

Cassian chuckled. “You really were tired this morning, weren’t you?”

Nesta blinked. “You banged on my door at, like, three in the morning. Of course I was tired.”

“Okay, first of all, it was four thirty,” he said, laughing. “Second, follow me.”

Nesta wasn’t sure exactly how she’d missed it. He was right, she must have been half asleep to miss the framework nestled back into the trees between their two houses.

But this was not the basic stable and tack room she’d described to him.

No, this building was going to be massive.

“There are going to be sixteen stalls,” Cassian said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “The tack room is going to be on that side,” he indicated to the right. “And the lodge, will be to the left.”

“The lodge?” Nesta asked, turning to look at him. “Figured it might be nice to have a little getaway out here. If you don’t like it, I can scrap it from the plans, make this a second tack room or storage area.”

But Nesta wasn’t listening, she’d turned back to the massive framework of beams in front of her.

She breathed, “Cassian, it’s perfect.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s going to take me a while to finish-.”

“Tell me what you need and it’s yours.” There was no hesitation to her words. “We can even hire someone to help, if you want.”

Cassian chuckled, softly. “That’s okay. I got it. If I need help, I’ll ask Rhys and Az. They’ll be more than happy to help when they can.”

“I can’t believe you…” Nesta shook her head, and looked at him. “Put so much thought into it.”

He shrugged. “You asked for updated stables. I just did what I’m told.”

“You really do love this place, don’t you?” Nesta asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Cassian said, meeting her gaze. “I had a bad reputation, from a lot of stupid shit I did when I was younger. Your dad really took a chance on hiring me, but I’m grateful every day that he did. He gave me a sense of purpose, when I thought I didn’t have one.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, and did not back down from his gaze as she said, “I’m grateful, too. That you’re here. I’d be completely lost without you.”

Cassian’s eyes softened, and she thought he was going to say something sweet, but then he said, “Yeah...all the other ranchers in this town aren’t as sexy as me, so, you really did luck out.”

“Oh, cauldron boil me,” Nesta groaned and Cassian put his arm around her shoulder and steered her towards the house, towards the shed where the saddles and other tack was kept.

“Ahhh, I didn’t want it to get too sappy.” He said, grinning down at her. “But now, we’re gonna see if you’re really worth your salt on this ranch.” He stopped in front of the shed and unlocked the padlock.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Nesta asked, not so subtly watching the way his back muscles moved under the blue t-shirt he wore.

He turned and Nesta cleared her throat and looked at him. He had a lead rope in his hand.

“Time to go catch you a horse, Nesta Archeron.”

——————

As the sun was setting, Nesta and Cassian walked back from the pasture, laughing.

“I had no idea that you were the one that released the dissection frogs!” Nesta said, locking the gate behind them. “Was it in protest of animal cruelty or something?”

Cassian thought for a second. “No, but if I had gotten caught, that probably would have been a better excuse than the one I would have gone with.”

Nesta chuckled. “Which was?”

He smirked and said, “Because I got bored.”

Nesta froze and watched him walk the rest of the way to the shed. “You let over four hundred frogs loose because you were bored?”

He put the ropes back in their place and locked the shed up. “Yup.” The grin on his face told her he, indeed, was proud of himself. And she was grinning, too.

Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Do you want to come have dinner with me?”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised. “Tonight?”

“Tonight, tomorrow night, whenever.” She shrugged, trying to play it off as a casual offer, and not that asking had filled her stomach with butterflies as strongly as it had when she had her first kiss. “We can meet for dinner in the main house every night. There’s no need for us to both cook.”

His smile returned, but it was softer. “I’d like that.”

They headed back around the front of the house, Cassian rattling off his favorite foods, most of which consisted of red meat and starches. When they came around the corner, Nesta froze.

Cassian’s words trailed off as he stopped beside her. A little black truck had pulled up, old and rusty. But the girl that came out of that little, rusty truck was stunning.

Nesta looked over at Cassian, to see if he recognized the young woman.

And, oh, he definitely did.

“Emerie,” he said, uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come by to say hello,” she crooned, grin wide. Then, she seemed to notice Nesta for the first time. “Oh. Who are you?”

Nesta blinked, then realized she was being spoken to. “I own this property.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes growing wide with recognition. “Your Isaac’s oldest? Wow.” She looked Nesta up and down, and the gesture had Nesta seeing red. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Emerie.”

“I’ve heard,” Nesta muttered.

Cassian was fiddling with the hem of his shirt when he said, “You know, we’re a little busy, Em, why don’t you come back later?”

“Later works,” she said, sliding her hands in her back pockets. “I was going to see if you wanted to have dinner, too, but it seems like you’re...taken care of.”

Cassian cleared his throat and said, “Nesta and I were just-.”

“Just finishing up for the day,” Nesta interrupted. She turned to Cassian and the warm, playful nature he’d seen emerging earlier had gone cold. “Thanks for showing me the ropes. I really appreciate it.” She began up the porch steps and Cassian reached for her hand. He gently gripped her fingers.

“Nesta, wait, let me explain. It’s-,” he dragged his hand down his face, the callouses catching on his stubble. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“I fell for that once before,” she whispered, her fingers tightening in his. “I won’t fall for it again.”

A look of confusion crossed Cassian's face, but his hand dropped. Emerie had gotten the hint, had gotten back up into her truck and was backing out.

“Are you jealous?” He asked, and it was almost anger that replaced the spark in his hazel eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not jealous,” Nesta snapped. “But it’s really inappropriate-“

“If you say that word one more time, Nesta, I swear on the fucking cauldron-.” Cassian’s words faded away and he raked his fingers through his long, tangled hair. “Must I remind you that you didn’t want me?”

There it was.

The words hung between them as complete silence consumed them, Emerie’s old truck driving away the only thing to be heard.

Nesta stared down at him, hurt written plainly across her face.

Hurt.

He had expected her to be jealous of Emerie, but he didn’t expect to see pain roiling in the depths of her eyes.

“Nesta, I-.”

She cut him off. “Did you lie to me?”

He blinked up at her, the sunset making her hair glow. “What?”

“That night, I asked you point blank if you had a girlfriend,” Nesta said, voice wavering. “You said no.”

“No,” Cassian said, eyes growing hard. “I have never lied to you, Nesta, I’m not a fucking liar. Emerie’s just a friend. She comes by every now and then. I haven’t seen her in months. She only comes by when she wants something.”

“Sex?” Nesta asked, before she could stop the word from tumbling out of her mouth.

Cassian shook his head, ignoring the short question altogether. “It doesn’t fucking matter. But, I’ve never lied to you. And, if you think I would lie to you….fuck.”

She could see the anger brewing inside of him, could see the frustration, but Nesta didn’t care, because she was pissed. And yet, she had no reason to be. He was right. She had turned him down. She had no right to care.

She was hurt, though.

And that hurt grew when she saw the hurt, saw the anguish, in his own eyes.

“I didn’t lie,” he repeated, looking away from her, out toward the pastures. “I’m a lot of things, Nesta, but I’m not a liar.”

She knew he wasn’t, knew it in every fiber of her being.

She hadn’t even been back in Velaris for a month, had just started to open up to the complicated man in front of her. Day and night, he always found a way to creep into her thoughts, into her dreams. But she couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, couldn’t afford to get tangled up with the man she couldn’t get off of her mind, no matter what she may want.

Not when her father's dream was on the line.

So Nesta closed her eyes, trying to hide the tears that has silently started slipping down her cheeks.

She turned her back to him, and hurried up the stairs of the main house.

Cassian was calling her name, but she forced herself to keep walking, to open the door, enter the house, shut herself inside.

She leaned against the slab of wood, stayed their as her eyes filled with tears, even as Cassian knocked on the other side.

“Nesta,” he said, voice calm, quiet, broken. “Hey, open up, come on.” He knocked again.

Nesta didn’t move.

She stayed there, leaning against the door, listening to him knock, listening to him beg.

But no matter what he said, Nesta didn’t open the door.

#theranchnessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fanfic #au #nessian #shara collab #sharacollab

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 12

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because I guess we’re going to Ha’rar now? Unless Kylan finds something super cool in that book he checked out from the Aughra Library.

Last times in book: Kylan, Naia, Tavra, and Gurjin visited Aughra on High Hill to enlist her help in warning all Gelfling about the Skeksis. She’s less than helpful. But she does let Kylan take a random book he picked up.

Chapter 12

Kylan reads a fun story about a flute, Gurjin splits the party

The disappointed Gelfs stop to camp and Kylan reads the heck out of the book. He reads so hard that he decides to write just for a change of pace.

To give his mind a break, he prepared his own scrolls and worked on the day’s record, recalling as many details as he could before the memories faded. In his journal, the memory of the orrery could be preserved forever. Their journey there could be smoothed over. Their interaction with Aughra could be just a stumble on their path to ultimate success. All it would take were more chapters to show that this dark disappointment was not the end, but just some dimmer part in the middle. Maybe it was better that way.

No, Kylan decided mid-etching, it is better. No maybes about it.

And so he wrote it into the diary that way to make sure that any future readers would understand it to be so.

Good attitude, Kylan!

Disappointing episodes in your life just contrast more with the cool stuff, clearly.

That said, I wonder what happens to Kylan’s journal when all is said and done in these books. That’d be a good loose end to pick up.

Naia and Gurjin head off in opposite directions to go catch dinner, because sibling rivalry.

Kylan gets back to book and Tavra makes small talk while tying up a laundry line super good.

“Found anything yet? I’ve never seen a Gelfling read so studiously, even among those who could.”

“I’ll probably never be a warrior like everyone else in my clan, but I might as well hone the few skills I have.”

Kylan tries to follow suit by praising her sweet knot tying skills but she just agrees that she has skills with which to pay the bills and then wanders off into the wood, leaving Kylan alone at the campsite.

As the suns set, Kylan continues reading the old book. Which is a disorganized experience. The book is all jumbled up with little apparent rhyme or reason. It’ll jump from recording a feast at a village to a detailed study of the biology of a suri-wing including diagrams. And its in several languages, of which Gelfling is just one.

But Kylan finds a passage that at least puts a name to the writer.

Mother forgot my name today.

I had to remind her: “Raunip. Raunip, Mother!”

I cried, “The name you gave me!”

How could she forget?”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Raunip!

Aughra’s son!

Talk about drawing stuff from Creation Myths!

I think most people reading this post know his deal and also maybe its going to be a plot twist in this book where his journal has become a hot topic.

She has been consumed with the heavens. The heavens, and the shard, buried deep underground. She will not admit that neither above nor below will heal this sickness. Only we of Thra can be the antidote; and to heal our world, we must purge it of those outsiders who have taken our heart captive.

Good ol’ Raunip and his pretty xenophobic tendencies actually.

Kylan gets so into reading the book that he forgets that he was reading it for a reason. But he comes to a passage that brings him to his sense.

“The song of the Heart of Thra can sing the hollow bone from the bell-bird wing.”

That is so close to a title drop. Its just super close.

The passage talks about a Gelfling called Gyr the Song Teller who crafted a firca (a forked flute, like the one Jen has) from the forked bone of a bell-bird’s wing. Then Gyr the Song Teller played on this firca in the Caves of Grot.

Playing this special firca caused the words to every song Gyr knew to be dream-etched across the walls. And the Grottan Gelfling protected the songs, and the other lore of the Gelfling people.

Hey, keepers of the lore isn’t a bad clan hat to have!

The story smacks of the fantastical to Kylan since dream-etching is a painstaking and slow process and the bell-birds long extinct. He considers that the story is a mythologization of the invention of writing.

But what if it were real?

He feels like it could be real.

He decides to tell Naia about this. It could be the random hope they were hoping for.

After dark, Naia and Gurjin return, and have a fish measuring contest. Since Tavra is still gone, Kylan shows Naia and Gurjin the story.

“It was used to do a hundred dream-etchings at once in the Caves of Grot. Gyr the Song Teller did it just by playing the firca. The music echoes through the cave and etched the words on all the stone it touched.”

“Is this a song, or truth?” Naia asked. “If it’s true... Kylan, could you use such a thing to write our warning about the Skeksis? We wouldn’t have to do it one message at a time, we could do so many at once. So many the Skeksis wouldn’t be able to stop every one.”

Isn’t there still the problem of most Gelfling being illiterate? I guess maybe you could do it in pictures. I’m pretty sure dream-etching can do pictures.

That said, the firca of Gyr the Song Teller is a pretty cool magic artifact for the setting, huh?

Cool bard from ages ago made a flute out of a bird and it lets you write multiple things at a time. It’s not the one ring of power or Mjolnir but it feels like it fits well with the setting.

The book says the firca was left with the Grottan and there’s an entrance to the Caves of Grot not too far from where they are. Its a pretty convenient thing, really.

Although Gurjin is wondering whether the Grottan are even still around.

They’re even more reclusive than the Drenchen, and are practically considered a myth themselves.

There’s no solid evidence that the firca (or the Grottan) are real but Kylan decides to trust his gut like Naia taught him.

“It’s possible the bone firca doesn’t actually exist, but maybe Aughra knows better. Maybe she sent the book with us for that reason... Or maybe it has nothing to do with Aughra. Either way, I just have the feeling that we should go. I wish i had more proof, but the feeling is all I have.”

Naia agrees that they should go.

So I guess Naia isn’t going to Ha’rar after all! She may never go there at this rate, ha.

This is putting me in mind of playing a game like Skyrim and just getting way sidetracked with all the sidequests. Can’t go to the throat of the world, there’s a magic flute in a cave, you understand.

Anyway, Naia and Gurjin have come to another decision as well.

They’re going to split the party!

Dangit, I like having Gurjin around!

But Naia raises the point that if the Skeksis are going to be coming after them both for their twin goo, there’s no sense in making it easier for them by having them in the same place. She just wants Kylan’s opinion on it.

Kaylan [sic] felt touched that she sought his opinion at all, even if he hardly knew what the say after being ambushed with their bold plan.

Kylan asks where Gurjin would go and Naia says he’d go back to the Sog where he can hide with family and recover with Momdra Laesid’s super healing. And not stated but the Skeksis have pretty much never been to the Sog and probably won’t start now if they can help it.

It’s hard to traverse on foot, as Tavra found out.

Plus also, if the Skeksis are chasing after Rian, they’ll be heading to Ha’rar, pretty much the opposite direction of the Sog.

And Gurjin’s familiar enough with the Dark Wood that he can travel through it and avoid the Skeksis. Naia will even send Neech with him to help him out.

Good plan, twins!

Kinda bummed still that we’re losing Gurjin and Neech to this good plan.

For a while, I thought it was going to be a rad journey with Rian, Naia, and Kylan. Then Rian ditched and Tavra and Gurjin showed up. Now its going to be Naia, Tavra, and Kylan which is also a hilarious grouping.

The reason why they don’t want Tavra to know is that she’s going to kick up such a fuss. But if Gurjin is gone before she knows it, she’ll have to choose between chasing Gurjin or chasing Rian and Rian is going to Ha’rar where Tavra wants to go too.

“She’ll be mad we didn’t have her approval, but I think you’re right, and maybe she’ll understand once it’s done. If Gurjin can get back to Sog, then at least someone will have made contact with the Drenchen.”

Gurjin and Naia nodded in unison.

“I’ll leave tonight, when it’s my watch,” he said. He extended his hand, and Kylan took it. “It was very good to meet you, Kylan the Song Teller. I’m glad my sister met you.”

Aww!

And hey, good additional point! Gurjin can start spreading some truth treason against the Skeksis.

Great plan, twins!

Tavra returns and Kylan feels nervous having to keep all these secrets from her but feels more like its her he’s nervous about more than the lying or obfuscation. There’s something just off about her and Kylan hopes that there’s some cure in Ha’rar for what the Skeksis did to her.

*cough* spiders

Anyway.

... she sat on the far side of the fire and began weaving her damp hair into a braid. In the firelight, her single earring cast sparkles on her pale neck, and Kylan wished he could find the right words to untangle whatever caused the animosity radiating from her. If only there were a song that could touch her heart, the way one had touched Rian’s -- but not every problem could be solved with a song.

Lies.

Also, earring still making me super suspicious.

Kylan anxieties himself to sleep worrying whether the future truly is immutable and whether Tavra will arrest them for treason for letting Gurjin sneak off but is woken up by Gurjin putting a hand on his shoulder and dreamfasting with him before he sneaks away.

Until we meet again, brother Kylan. Be safe.

Awwwwwwwww! Best friends!

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Song of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Kylan #Naia #Tavra #Gurjin

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dredshirtroberts · 3 years

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Tagged by @tumbleweedtech!!

What is your total word count on AO3?

Oh thank god you're asking me to look there where they calculate it for me so i don't have to try and figure it out across all eleventy-million of my fucking WIPs xD.

uhhhhh looks like...274,424 heh. that's lower than i thought but then again I post very little of what i actually write so...

How many fandoms have you written for?

On AO3? if I lump the related ones together (which i do) it's 4. If we're talking across the board in general? uh...f u c k. there's so much i haven't posted or thought about posting yet. just go ahead and like. add ten more on top of the four fandoms on AO3 i think that's about close if we're counting crossovers and inspired-bys

What were your top 5 fics by kudos?

Right Back to the Beginning

Constellations

Please, What?

Spearwort, Iris and Ash: Spearwort Yellow for Joy

Lia & Em's Adventure In Thedas Part I: The Wrath of Heaven

Do you respond to comments - why, why not?

I... want to? I try sometimes, if someone's comment touches me or came at a particularly bad time. It's overwhelming to respond to people - I'm a lurker by nature and never really grew out of the habit of teen-me knowing i wasn't supposed to be looking at the fics i was reading and so i wouldn't interact with them or the authors at all. So it can be hard to like. reconcile that I'm a fully grown adult person who is allowed to not only read and write what i enjoy but also that like. other adult people are reading and enjoying what i write? and that they'd want to tell me? I admit to also falling out of what little habit i'd started due to continued weirdly critical (yet not *negative*) comments that just. rub me the wrong way so I can't figure out how to respond? yeah.

What's your fic with the angsty-est ending?

Again I guess if we're going by what's actually posted, I'd probably have to say the Super Fucking Old fic I added from my FF.net days: A Late Summer Afternoon (hopefully that's the right link - sometimes copy and paste doesn't work the way i want). warnings for MCD. I...imagine you might be able to pick up on why that one's my angstiest ending xD I generally try to like. end my stories on a positive note? even if it's not all better yet - so the second angstiest would be Color of Your Eyes or Have This probably. Likely more Have This over Color of Your Eyes but they're both relatively tame as compared to my earliest writing xD

Do you write crossovers?

Uh...yes but i haven't posted any yet. Most of the reason nothing I write gets posted is because I am incapable of writing small projects and I get nervous about posting chapters before i know where i story is going yet because i feel like i can't edit if it's been posted? Anyway I'm going to try and get over that eventually. Not right now, though. I still have to edit some stuff.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Hate is a strong word. I...assume most people who have commented mean well, regardless of how their comments may come off to me on my end. Several have rubbed me the wrong way due to phrasing and an inability to read tone over text-based communication, but I refuse to believe they would have kept reading if they didn't like most of the story. Certainly it has been generally positive feedback across the board so I don't feel comfortable at all calling any negative comments i've received (intentional or not) "hate"

Have you ever had a story stolen?

As far as I'm aware, no. Thankfully I tend to write shit that people just don't care that much about so I'm pretty safe I think. Watch that come bite me in the ass xD

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nah. I hope one day to be proficient in my target language and will be able to translate my own fics myself but see aforementioned note about how no one really cares that much about what i write xD it won't happen unless i do it myself.

What is your all time favourite pairing?

You want me? to pick favorites? in THIS economy?

What is a fic you would like to finish but don't think you ever will?

currently none are looking like "never gonna finish"es which is good. RBttB sat unfinished for a long while and I probably won't polish the ending on that one, but it's technically done. I also don't want to finish that one either so. it wouldn't have fulfilled the requirements of the question.

Writing strengths?

You want me? to compliment myself? in THIS econo- alright alright i know, it's a terrible joke. Uh...I understand i'm pretty good at smut. and descriptions? i think? I feel like my humor is unparalleled but that's also because i'm pretty sure i'm the funniest person in my apartment (we'll just casually not mention i live alone...) Seamless integration of current and historical memes? Puns? i don't know. i am super confident about writing but i couldn't tell you for sure what i'm actually strong at.

Writing weaknesses?

uh. Getting anything finished. endings. d i a l o g u e. writing. flow. pacing. repetition. writing. see what i did there? i told you my humor was awesome. no but really i struggle with actually starting to write and then it ends up being a lot of me repeating myself a bunch until i find the sentence or four that work best. and like. my pacing is weird so it can be hard to...figure out what i'm trying to say? oh and commas. i use commas wrong.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages?

I enjoy the shit out of it. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but I try really hard to get it right. if I'm not 100% positive it's correct I will change the whole sentence. mostly because i only know a handful of people who know languages other than English and I am bad at reaching out for help when I need it. mostly the second part though.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

YuYu Hakusho! A friend and I wrote this epic fucking self-insert not-quite-isekai style fanfic back and forth in notebooks back in the 6th grade (which was about...oh. nearly 20 years ago jesus i'm old). Only one of my notebooks survived when she decided anime was demons and the devil trying to tempt her away from Jesus so a lot of the story was lost. It was also in pencil so it's half worn out of the notebook as it is. then there was the phase i went through where i decided i could make my notebooks more interesting by cutting them into shapes which lost me a bit of text in the margins that i'd forgotten about... look we're mostly lucky i had it at all or that i've kept it all these years. Why do i still have it?...hm.

What's your favourite fic?

Of mine? So far it's probably a toss-up between Spearwort, Iris and Ash and Lia & Em's Adventure in Thedas. you know. My two biggest projects Oh...oh possibly also the Current-Reworking-The-Title fic I've started that I've not posted anything of yet in the Arcana fandom. Which is also a huge major project. I don't write small if I can help it, apparently.

of someone else's? You want me? to choose favorites? in THIS- yes i know that's the same joke three times. I think it changes based on what I need most out of my fic reading experience. I have an extensive bookmark collection on AO3. one of them in there's probably holding a spot as favorite, most likely.

Tagging: @concertconfetti, @daughterofdungeonbat, and anyone else who wants to do this! If you want a specific tag to do this, please LMK and i'll tag you <33

#about me #tag game #writing #the captain writes #tagged by

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joeycupcakerichter · 3 years

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A letter he'll never read.

This is just going to be a incoherent mess of thoughts that I need to get out of my skull because otherwise they're going to drown me. so I'm gonna throw it under a read more and post it here so the thought can be out of my head and I can go back and reread whenever I start to feel like I'm losing control again.

Dear [him]

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I've probably seemed obsessive and weird and I wish I could stop but I think writing this down, explaining it even though I know you'll never read it will help me process the feelings and move on.

I'm sorry it had to be you. I'm sorry that you were the one that caught me on a bad day and made me smile. I read too much into it. If I've ever made you uncomfortable in anyway, I'm so deeply sorry. There's some things that I think you need to understand about me that I think will help the two of us make sense of this and move forward.

My marriage was one built on trauma and distress. I was married to a man that loved the idea of me, not the person I truly was. He spent six years trying to shove me into a box that I didn't fit into, trying to make me into the girl he always wanted when he simply was not. It may sound ungrateful to say, but I was drowning in his attention but you have to understand that this was not the kind of attention anyone deserves. It was manipulative, it was guilt tripping, it was toxic in every sense of the word. He hated the things I loved and if he didn't start off initially hating them, he would quickly begin to hate them because they were associated with me. I know you're probably wondering what that has to with you and I promise I'm getting to it

The earliest date I have to tell you when this started was February 4, 2019. Yeah, you heard me right, two fucking years of this nightmare coping mechanism that you didn't ask to be a part of. February 4th was the day I created a playlist on Spotify because I was going to go to the gym. The first song on that playlist was Rev 22:20 by Puscifer because that's the song that every time I hear it, I think of you. The beginning of the song is enough to explain what I was feeling in that time.

Don't be aroused by my confession Unless you don't give a good goddamn about redemption I know Christ is comin', and so am I And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye

I wanted you so badly. You represented everything that my current relationship lacked. You would give me attention, but only if I earned it. I was married at the time, so confessing my attraction to you would be something that you would have to not care if it sent you to hell. It was stupid, and I kept my mouth shut about it. I wasn't about to have an affair with you. I know I was already emotionally cheating on my husband, but I was not going to take the next step. I would just cling to this concoction of you I'd made in my head to cope with the misery that I was forcing myself to live with. It wasn't healthy and it DEFINITELY wasn't fair to you. You didn't ask to have someone develop an infatuation with you that you didn't want. I did my best to be cool and remember who the fuck I was but I know you knew. I deluded myself into thinking that you were interested, even if you couldn't pursue it. I think that made it worse.

Your trip and the jokes we made about it truly cemented this stupid ass infatuation into my brain. The thought of running away from my life with you haunted my dreams. In fact, there was one dream that I had that I still distinctly remember that plays in my head on repeat every now and then. We were at a party, you pulled me into the pantry and we were talking and you looked at me, confused, and said, "You know I like you, right?" I woke up immediately after, confused and with my heart pounding. This came shortly after you told me that your friend had backed out of the trip and you had an extra ticket, if I just got my passport. I didn't, of course, but I remember you telling me that I could sit next to you on the plane and rub your back as you puked into your airplane bag because you were afraid to fly.

I'm terrified that I sound insane and creepy and unsettling. I KNOW you were just kidding around but it was something I could cling to. It kept me alive when I was laying in bed staring out of my window wishing I had to courage to just jump. That was a lot to put on you but I comforted myself by reminding myself that you would never know. I would never ever cross the line of telling you how much that stupid little joke meant to me. You'll probably never know this, but you saved my life. And for that I can only thank you.

I'll never forget when you left, either.

I channeled the confusing feeling of loss and pain into a story that I'm still incredibly proud of. I won't bore you (or creep you out) with details, but you left two months after your trip and I did nothing but write. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote that pain away until I couldn't feel it anymore. It was gone. I fixed it all. I was fine. I barely thought about you. That initial hyperfixation was gone. You were gone.

Until you weren't.

A mutual friend told me that you were coming back and I thought my heart was going to erupt. That was when I stopped writing my story because I didn't need it anymore. You were coming back. I tried to remain casual, but that December when you were finally back, I could've wept with joy. It was sad, it was pathetic but you were back and everything was going to be fine. I had my coping mechanism back. We both know I can't help but look at you when you're near by. Even just a glimpse could make me smile. You were so soothing to me. You still are. It's illogical and it doesn't make sense, but whenever I talk to you, or even just see you I am simultaneously relieved and set on edge. I have to watch myself. I don't want you to know this creepy stalker narrative I'd unintentionally crafted. It wasn't even stalkery.

I didn't cross lines, I just wanted to talk to you, be around you somewhere that was an even playing field. I've only texted you when I absolutely had to. I couldn't bring myself to bother you. I put you up on a pedestal and didn't ask you for anything more. I wanted more, I craved that sweet validation but I wouldn't cross that line. We were work friends, if you could even call it that. We were coworkers that sat together on break all the time. Sometimes I would feel like maybe you could be interested but I would always reminded myself that just because I wanted you to be, didn't mean you were. I constantly kept myself in check. I barely even mentioned you to my friends and even when I did, you were the mediocre white guy at work. Hell, I still refer to you as that because I need to keep myself in check. You are not the end all be all of men. Believe me, I would let myself believe that if I didn't keep myself in check.

When the pandemic hit, you were gone again. I thought it was forever this time and I decided it would be okay. It had to be okay. I wasn't going back to work if you weren't going to be there and by all logic, you shouldn't have been. You were the reason I didn't hate my job. I liked talking to you for fifteen minutes at a time that much. It's silly, but it made everything better. I didn't need to date you. I didn't need to sleep with you. I just wanted you to be my friend and you had been. I thought that chapter was closed.

And then my husband left me. And I found out you were back again. Despite everything I'd figured, that you wouldn't go back for a third time, that you wouldn't even be able to, another mutual friend mentioned that you were back. And I was ready to run back into that hellhole's hateful arms to have you close and as my friend again. I couldn't talk to you outside of work, I didn't know what to say. I was scared it was going to come out wrong because things were different now. I was different now. I wasn't going to be married for much longer. I let myself stray into thinking maybe now could be different.

You gave my husband an instrument to fix and he left it and me here so I figured I could give it back to you, at the very least. I was gonna shoot my shot. "of course I remember you". Now I'm not sure if that was as flattering as I initially took it but you forgot and I cried. But I left you alone. If you had any of the same feelings I had, you wouldn't have. It was okay. You didn't have to match my energy. Mine was out of control and emotional, coming only a week after my husband left the state. I was a train wreck and I'm glad now that you didn't come pick it up. I would've embarrassed myself. I would've tried to tell you all of this to your face and it would've been a mess. It wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to me. I was in mourning, I was in shock. Just like most of the people I knew, you probably wouldn't have known what to say. What do you say to a woman who had been abandoned so easily and quickly? Awkward pity in my experience with people who weren't you. But I told you. You knew. That's all I wanted.

And now, I'm terrified that I'm becoming FAR too obvious. I wasn't subtle before, but I KNOW I'm not subtle now. I'm terrified of making you uncomfortable, or even worse, acting like Mandee. Becoming so overbearing and not picking up on vital social cues that would tell me that you didn't want me around. Every now and then, I'll forego sitting outside to sit with you but I won't do it every break. I don't want to seem like I won't leave you alone. I don't want to seem like a crazy woman who's obsessed with you. Maybe I still am, despite my best intentions, but I try so hard not to be. You don't owe me ANYTHING. And sometimes I get the vibes that I need to leave you alone so I do. And I resign myself to the fact that I ruined it because I couldn't keep my shit together.

My standards are so low right now, that you can talk to me first and I feel like maybe we could still be friends. Not a damn thing more than that. I can't stress that enough. Despite everything I've written here, it's not like I want you to sweep me off my feet and save me from everything. I just.... I want to be your friend. I want to actually know you other than anecdotal conversations.

I don't know how to finish this. It's pathetic, its cathartic and I just needed to get it out of me. I'm so tired of keeping it in and while I won't tell you, just writing it down helps. So thank you. Thank you for everything you don't know you've done for me. I'm sorry I let it go this far and get this... weird. Thank you again.

#nova trauma dumps #nova speaks #nova rants #tw: suicide mention #tw: suicidal ideation #ask to tag #if you were wondering where I get my Ted from this should give you a good idea #goddamn I wrote a lot about something that doesn't even matter #personal

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another-sonic-blog · 4 years

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Stages: Maybe Jealous

Stages: Intimate Friends: Pt.6 : Maybe Jealous (Chapter 19)

Pairing: ShadAmy

Previous: https://another-sonic-blog.tumblr.com/post/611417758901714944/stages-what-is-it

It was three in the afternoon and Rouge wasn't content when someone came knocking in her apartment's door. It was one of her few days off and being a bat in modern-day society was difficult. She had to go against her primal instincts of sleeping during the day so she could keep her job. So whenever she had a day off, she made sure to sleep thoroughly.

The knocking became stronger and if Rouge didn't know better, she could tell by the knocking who it was.

A very impatient black and red hedgehog.

A half-asleep Rouge walked slowly to her door, knowing well that the black one couldn't get any angrier. She opened the door and Shadow stormed in.

"Where is Amy?" Shadow asked as he looked around her apartment. Strangely enough, Amy's scent wasn't predominant as before.

"I've been fine, thank you," Rouge said sarcastically. She rubbed her eyes as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight coming from her windows.

"I little have not time to be nice," Shadow said again, he began to panic when he didn't see the pink in the agent's apartment. "Where is Amy?"

"Then, you must never have the time to be nice," Rouge replied. "She's not here. She went on a field trip with Sonic, they should be back tomorrow night."

"What? Where did they go?"

"I don't know, Amy didn't tell me because apparently, Sonic wanted to surprise her."

Rouged watched Shadow sigh heavily as he placed his right hand on his forehead. Showing his frustration.

"She doesn't answer her phone." Shadow hissed at of anger.

"Sonic won't either ... They don't want to be bothered, so they turned off all of their communication devices." Rouged looked over at his teammate. She knew that there was something he wasn't telling her. "Now tell me, what is going on?"

Shadow didn't want Rouge to be involved with the stupidity he was about to make. However, he did realize that her help might be needed.

That and that he trusted Rouge with her decisions.

Shadow sat down on the Rouge's sofa and with a stern look, he began to tell her the story.

"You can't arrest her! You have no proof-"

The Commander stood up from his seat and walked towards Shadow. From his desk, he grabbed a file and opened it.

"In your report, you wrote, "I found the Resistance burnt down, nothing was left of it." The Commander said and looked up to Shadow. "That is proof that Amy wanted to burn down all proof of her doings to prevent us from arresting her."

"That doesn't make any sense!" said Shadow.

"It doesn't? Our Team of Investigations say that no one was inside the building when the accident occurred. Of the 7 agents there ... Don't you think that's too much of a coincidence?"

"That is-"

The Commander interrupted Shadow again.

"The investigation team also found the remainings of a plant, 'Silent Princess," The Commander added. "And according to your report ... this is the flower who helped Tails the Fox wake up from his sleep in Twinkle Star Village."

There was a heavy silence in the room. The Commander knew that Shadow wasn't still fully convinced. His eyes still show determination and in one last hope to get him he said,

"Isn't the video of her putting up the bombs enough prove already?"

Shadow didn't know what it was but his mind and heart just couldn't accept it. So many people have betrayed him and he was scared that Amy might be one of those too. Shadow tried to put his feelings aside but he just couldn't. His mind went to Amy. If Shadow was sure of one thing, it was her.

Well ... to hell with everything.

"I don't know know if Amy is guilty or not ... but I do know that Amy loved that place and she wouldn't do anything against it," Shadow said. "My apologies commander ... I do enjoy my job but between this job and Amy ... I chose Amy."

The Commander wasn't scared of Shadow. However, he was concerned about the decisions the black hedgehog was willing to take. The Commander had many years working and never, not even in the human world, had he met someone like Shadow. He had never chosen a side in this job and now that he was going it, it spoke volumes about him and the subject at hand.

Shadow was the best agent he had and his determination had sparked something in the Commander's previous ideology.

Doubt.

Shadow was smart and he wouldn't throw it everything he has worked for unless he was 100% sure of his decision.

"You have three days to leave the United Republic. If you don't, we will hunt you along Amy Rose." The Commander said, "I have three days until I report of this situation back to Earth. They will most likely ask me to send a squad after you ... or even more, considering you don't have a very good reputation with humans and you are betraying G.U.N."

The first time G.U.N appeared in Mobian land, many protested. The civilians thought that G.U.N.'s agency was a way to keep an eye on the Mobians on behalf of the humans. It wasn't at all a lie, in the beginning, G.U.N consisted of human agents only but seeing the constant protests, the humans decided to remove the humans and replace them with Mobians.

Of course, one human person stayed at G.U.N and that was the Top Commander. That calmed down the protests and all of them subside down the moment Shadow the Hedgehog, Rouge, and Omega joined the agency.

"Why are you doing this?" Shadow asked. He was baffled. He had respect for his Commander but going against what was expected of him surprised him.

"In all of my years working for G.U.N. I had never met someone like you." The Commander said. "Our relationship it's only based on work but even so ... Your determination makes me doubt ... maybe Amy Rose is innocent."

This time Shadow knew that he wasn't speaking to the Commander. He was talking to the person underneath the suit.

"And I have a feeling I should believe you, and I have survived many times by just following that."

A few seconds passed and for a moment Shadow didn't want to leave. He knew that after this day, he was probably never going to see him again. But he prayed to Chaos that one day their paths may interview again.

"You have three days agent, leave." The Commander said. "You will be facing G.U.N.'s wrath and the world will be against you."

"Then, I will fight like I always have," Shadow replied, smiling at his commander knowing this was goodbye.

"Shadow ... take care."

Shadow left his office. Content and nervous at the same time. Content because for the first time in all of his years working for G.U.N., the Commander called him by his name. No 'Agent Shadow' or just 'Agent.' And nervous because Shadow didn't know what the future awaited for him.

The winds softly caressed Amy's hair as the strings of it danced beautifully. Sonic had never thought of settling down but he knew he could slow down once in a while for the pink hedgehog.

The grass surrounded them along with the sunflowers. It was a sunny day but the wind was cold and it made up for the heat. Sonic and Amy were in their backs, watching clouds above them.

Sonic took Amy to one of his favorite places on Mobius, it was kinda a secret spot for him. Not a lot of tourists came and it is peaceful and quiet.

Sonic loved the idea of traveling the world and saving folks but he knew Amy was one who wanted to settle down. Have a family and such.

"Amy, if we were to get married now, would you say yes?" Sonic asked and Amy was caught by surprise. It was random considering that they were in complete silence a few moments ago.

But still, she answered.

"Now? I don't know ..." Amy said. She had been honest with Sonic from the beginning. That at the moment, she still had strong feelings for Shadow. "But my older self would have said yes without thinking."

Amy chuckled, a bit hurt but he accepted the answer.

"It's just ... you know, I love to be as free as the wind ... I don't imagine comfortably myself living in a house when I know there are people out there who might need me." Sonic said. "So ... I am guessing we can never be truthfully together, uh? Even if we wanted."

"Sonic, I'll make something clear." Amy turned her head to look at the blue one and this caught his attention as well. "I don't want to change anything about you. I love how you live freely. I don't want to take that away from you. Even if we were to get married, I will still be willing to give you your freedom."

Sonic eyes sparkled and he felt his heart beat faster. "So ... Would you have been happy by just staying at the house and taking care of the children? Waiting for me to arrive home?"

"Absolutely," Amy replied, their eyes interview and there shared a lovely moment. However, Amy knew that she needed to pop Sonic's bubble. She didn't him to have any hopes for that happening at least now. "But that was old me ... and now well ... I am not sure what I want and well you know ... I-"

"You still love Shadow, I know that." Sonic's voice had a bit of jealousy to it. Amy knew it was normal. After all, he was dating a girl who was still in love with someone else. "If you don't mind me asking ... what do you see in him?"

Amy knew that Sonic was serious about his question and to give him some peace of mind, she replied. "He is just ... incredibly kind and sweet."

"Hey, I am kind and sweet too!"

Amy smiled and let out a small giggle. "Yes you are but it comes to you naturally... but Shadow ... He was a hard time expressing how he feels or showing any emotion at all. Even if he fails miserably at it ... he still tries. He tries his hardest to be good and do good."

Amy noticed that Sonic was quiet as a signal for her to continue.

"Believe me, if a year ago you have said that I would fall in love with Shadow the hedgehog, I would probably laugh y lungs out." Amy continued, "But he showed me other sides of himself and along the way ... I just fell for that. It wasn't a moment like when you saved me from Metal Sonic ... It was gradually, in stages even and in one of those ... I fell in love with him."

A few seconds passed and Amy felt Sonic softly place a hand on her cheek, he brought her closer to him and he kissed her on the lips.

They stayed close to each other's faces and Sonic whispered. "It makes time but there's a possibility ... I can make you fall in love with me gradually and one day, you may just realize that you love me."

A sense of guilt overtook Amy. He had been nothing but sweet to her and caring. Yes, he had been absent for a long time but it was Sonic. He liked to travel around for a long time and most important of all, he was single back then.

Now he was dating Amy and he was slowing down for her.

And Amy had to acknowledge ... that the gesture made her heart beat faster than usual.

Amy cuddle in Sonic's arms, she heard his beating heartbeat that matched hers. "I really wish for that moment to come soon."

If Shadow couldn't pint point the moment he fell in love with Amy. He had realized he loved her a few days ago but he knew he had feelings for her even before then. Did he love at first sight? Most likely not. It was in stages, gradually. Like a plant, it slowly grew. During a year, Amy and he had provided with light, water, and other resources for it to grow. And the small plant had grown into a beautiful flower.

"So, your plan is to run away to the Acorn Kingdom. That's on the other side of the world. How are you planning to get there?" Rouge asked. They were still at her apartment, talking over the matter.

"I am going to buy a small plane or helicopter from the yellow box. I should take all of my money out of the bank before G.U.N cancels all of my accounts." Shadow replied.

"And will you be accepted in the Acorn Kingdom?"

"Yes, I spoke with Princess Sally and she owns me a favor. She plans to hide us for some time."

"And then what?" Rouge asked again.

"We will plan everything as we go," Shadow said. "But to be honest, I don't even know where to start looking. Is this an old enemy? And if so, who? Who has a grudge against Amy?"

Rouge stood up from the sofa, walking from side to side, thinking about the different possibilities. "Maybe it's not against Amy ... but you."

Shadow raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"In your Star Festival's report, you said that in the drainage bunker, there were imagines and videos of you and Amy during our Twinkle Star Village mission." Rouge added, "They have been watching you two ... maybe they notice how close you are to her and they want to take advantage of that."

Shadow looked away, was he so obvious? "We are not that close."

Rouge rolled her eyes at him, she knew he was lying but this was over the top. "Can you just men up and say you like the girl? It ain't that hard."

"I don't like her," Shadow lied again. At least this time he knew he was lying. He just didn't want Rouge to tease him about it.

"Now I know why Amy is with Sonic," Rouge added. "He wasn't afraid of talking about his feelings for her and he got the girl."

Rouge had never seen Shadow snap his head so fast before. His expression changed and Rouge was confused by his sudden change.

"Wait ... you didn't know they were together?"

"Together as?"

"Together ... as boyfriend and girlfriend."

Shadow knew this feeling. He had felt before when he used to date Maria and she would show up with a different guy every night. However, there was a difference. The first one, Maria was technically his and he couldn't focus on this feeling because he was concentrated more on the fact that she cheated. Secondly, Amy wasn't even his girlfriend ... yet. He had barely realized his feelings for her and he had already lost to his blue rival nonetheless.

Shadow gave it a thought again. Sonic and Amy were Chaos knows were and alone. They could be hugging, kissing, holding hands, sleeping together, being intimate together.

He knew this feeling too well. He thought he had forgotten about it but no ... it was there and it overtook him. He let out a growl and he held his hands so tight that even with the globes on, he knew his knuckles were white from the pressure.

"I need to finish somethings," Shadow said as he stood up from the sofa. "I'll be back tomorrow night if Amy comes back early contact me as soon as you can."

Rouge watched the black hedgehog opening the door of her apartment to get out. However, she stopped him.

"Are you angry?" Rouge asked, a certain hint of worry in her voice.

"Angry? No," Shadow gave Rouge one last look before exiting her apartment.

"... maybe jealous."

A/N: First, I want to apologize for the grammar errors and all that. I will be fixing the mistakes soon, I just wanted to publish this chapter as soon as I could.

I had finished writing the final two chapters of 'Stages' yesterday. However, as I read over them, I realized that I didn't like them.

I was putting too much information, conjunctions, and subplots that it was just too much. As some people may know, 'Stages' was originally a series of one-shots stories that concentrated on the development of Amy and Shadow's relationship. It was as simple as that but as people wanted to read more, I found myself writing this story without a plot. Because originally this story wasn't meant to have a plot. It wasn't meant to have any deep meaning nor to be a long story.

With that said, I enjoyed very much writing the first chapters, but I guess I let myself get influenced and wrote a story of 20 chapters that was meant to only be 10 chapters.

There is a lot of inconsistency, I didn't like how I literally build up the villain of the story in the last five chapters and I believe that it's all due to that as well as that my writing is not good to the point I can create a good building of a villain within a few chapters.

Now those two chapters are there, they may never be read. I guess I would publish them later on Wattpad as 'Alternative Ending."

The next chapter, it the FINAL chapter. It will most likely come out this week and after that, I will start working on the story prompts request. Thank you, everyone, who has been with me on this journey and hopefully will continue to read other of my works.

Next: Soon

#Shadamy #shadamy au #shadowxamy #shadow and amy #shadow the hedgehog #Amy Rose #amyrose #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfic #shadow x amy #romance

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outroshooky · 4 years

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hiatus notice.

hi friends,

this is the first time i’m struggling to word a hiatus post, because i’m struggling to believe that this is the right thing for me right now. however, at the end of the day, i need to prioritize my overall health above writing and this blog; thus, i need to take a break from being on here.

life right now feels overwhelming. quarantine and pandemic aside, there is a lot going on in my personal life now that i’m home all the time. i’ve been in a depressive state for a few days; getting out of bed is hard. i’m starting to lose touch with my sense of self, much less the motivation to sit down and write. i need to take time to remember what it’s like to want to write instead of feeling that i need to produce something for readers. if you’d like to read more on this + what i foresee for this little blog, please feel free to continue below the cut. to keep the notice itself short, i’ll end it here.

mutuals, feel free to reach out to me on kakaotalk / line / discord / whatever social media you’re comfortable with so we can keep our conversations going. you are the reason i haven’t gone on hiatus sooner; i adore all of you to the ends of the earth and back.

my plan is to be gone for a few weeks, to give myself a breather and not feel the need to compulsively write for the sake of putting something out there. in the meantime, my blog will be running on a queue. when i come back, we’ll take things from there and see how it goes.

thank you for understanding.

callisto

hello to my friends who have kept reading,

as i stated before, life right now feels incredibly overwhelming. i live in new york, which is one of the centers of the pandemic here in the united states. life has been uprooted for all of us; i have lost out on my senior year of high school because of it. our trip to disney, the penultimate experience for my high school and the culmination of four years of hard work, was canceled. bts postponed; ab6ix concert canceled. spring concert, canceled. finals canceled (a miracle), graduation likely postponed, a pre-college program i’ve been looking forward to for two years, canceled. i lost my job, one that i loved with all of my heart, and now a simple trip to the grocery store has become an expedition in itself. i know i’m not the only one. we all have our stories, the things we’ve lost. it’s okay to admit that that hurts too, losing these things that we looked forward to, that we wanted so desperately.

it’s hard to write stories full of joy when you yourself are not so joyous. perhaps that’s where my writer’s block is coming from; no halo was a very cathartic piece for me for that reason. i was supposed to put out a soulmate!yoongi au that is nothing but pure fluff, but i struggle to envision it when even in my nightmares, i’m screaming at people to stay six feet away from me. i wanted to give you guys something positive to read, to place yourselves in during this time of struggle for everyone. i still want to do that, but i’m not in a good place mentally to do so, and my health will always take priority over my writing.

i see each of my notifications, regardless if it is someone liking a post or reblogging a fic or tagging me in a follow forever. i check every one of them because they matter to me; you guys matter to me in a very special way. each notification is a person, someone somewhere around the world who has been touched by the content i put on this blog. that is something to be celebrated. each note is a person who has felt a certain way because of something i said or wrote or commented on. this to be said, i feel very guilty when i can’t deliver on something i promised, that people were looking forward to, and i deeply regret that i have not yet finished a series for all of my two years on this blog. i haven’t been able to deliver on those promises, and it eats away at me; then i get writer’s block and we’re back where we started.

this leads into my next point. verses and vibes will not be finished on time; in all honesty, i’m not sure if i will finish it at all. perhaps i will push it back a few months to allow myself a breather, to work on other content that is more spur-of-the-moment. i always want to give you guys the most authentic version of myself along with the most authentic fics that come from a place in my heart, works i have an emotional stake in. i will always hold myself to that; unfortunately, that means my original promise from months ago may change because i myself have changed. i want to finish v&v; it’s a series i’m proud of and one that has helped me grow as a writer. i as an author want to see it through, but i need to decide what will be best for me as a person.

on the idea of authenticity comes another concept i’ve been grappling with. my relationship with bts has changed; something i have been trying to ignore for months now, hoping it was where i was at in life and i just didn’t have enough time to follow them. i don’t believe that’s the case anymore. love yourself era was exactly what i needed to hear at that point in my life, a journey i followed with them because i had nothing to lose and nowhere else to turn. the ship sailed and i was on board, but when we came back to port, i stepped off to get some refreshments and it seems to have sailed off without me. i feel like i’ve been left behind somehow― like everybody else learned to love themselves but here i am in my little corner, still struggling to do so. something happened between the summer and the start of school; i think it was their hiatus that really deepened that divide. they needed it, god; they work so hard for us. but it split something in me, and i’m not quite sure if i can get that thing back. i’m telling myself that this feeling is short-term, that they are the same guys i’ve seen in concert four times in two years; that they’re just a hop, skip, and jump across the world and they have their days, too. i’m not so sure if what i’m telling myself is the truth.

if i come to a point where i realize, okay, i don’t want to pursue this anymore; this chapter of my life can end, i will stop writing for bts. however, unless something dramatic happens, i will not deactivate this blog. readers, i want you to continue to have access to my content if it is something you enjoy and something that brings you comfort. i will also stay on tumblr, but simply move to a new blog that is more focused on the other groups i follow (svt/ab6ix). i will also take my current ideas/wips and tailor them for seventeen, writing for ot13 full-time. this is a long-term plan; i don’t expect this to happen immediately, but i want to lay this out for you now so you have an idea of what is in my future. i will obviously post updates about this when it happens and give forewarning so you can find me wherever i end up. editor’s note: i am not moving blogs right now. this is just an idea of what may happen in the future.

this has been on my mind for many months, but i haven’t felt ready to sit down and confront it until now. please be assured, friend, that i haven’t been forced to post any fics that i haven’t wanted to. i genuinely enjoy writing for you and sharing my works with you; merely, i want to make sure that what i’m giving you is from my heart in every way possible. i will always live out my truth unapologetically (curse my aries ass).

this letter is a long but necessary one. it feels so good to finally speak about this after pondering it for so long, wondering if it was right to put it all out there. thank you for reading it, for sticking in there till the end. i won’t be gone for long. stay healthy and stay safe, friend.

all my love,

callisto

#hiatus notice #callisto.doc #personal

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sheliesshattered · 4 years

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writing update

After a little bit of whiskey and a lot of griping last night (and @megsann13, @praetyger, and @medinaquirin, ya’ll give me life by liking that post, thank youuu ❤️), I finally got that scene in chapter 4 of This Isn’t A Ghost Story to cooperate. It still needs another editing pass or two for pacing, but it’s the sort of scene I expect I’ll be editing right up until the moment I post the chapter. Re-reading it this morning, I’m happy with the overall structure and flow, there’s one paragraph that may need expanded, but I don’t feel like I need to tear the entire thing out and start over again. Thankfully.

I had like five different versions of that same scene half-written, so once I’d cannibalized all of those for lines I liked and stitched the whole thing together, I deleted all the extra bits, which actually put me in the negative for total word count for the day, but up for finished words, so eh, worth it. The entire story is sitting at just about 19,000 words right now, and ch4 is currently a little shorter than ch3 ended up being, but not by much -- and there’s still two or three scenes I want to write/finish for ch4.

I want to get through this next sequence (hopefully today), but I think I may shift the other half-started scenes over into ch5 instead. Even without those scenes, ch4 should end up right around the 5000 word mark, which feels like plenty to me. With those scenes kept in, it would easily top 6k words, and meanwhile I don’t have as much for ch5 as I would like. Where I put the chapter break won’t change much about how I write those scenes either way, so I’ll probably just try to buzz through those and into what I have sketched out for ch5, and then see what chapter break pacing makes the most sense.

Chapter 6 continues to sit at a nicely finished state, though I’ve edited and added a few things here and there, so it’s currently at just over 2000 words -- shorter than the chunky middle chapters, but not that much shorter than ch1, so I think it works. I wrote down a few bits of dialogue for a vague and undefined ch7, but I’m going to wait until ch5 is finished to decide what I’m doing with that one. I may end up folding it into ch6, or it might end up as a bonus/cut scene that I post just to Tumblr. Ooor I might flesh it out and turn that into the epilogue (instead of ch6), and add another scene to ch6. I just really won’t know until ch5 is done and I can read the whole thing straight through.

I still think the whole story is going to clock it at under 30,000 words, unless that ch7 idea grows a ridiculous amount. My goal is still to get the whole story finished or nearly finished before I start posting chapters once a week both here and on AO3, but I’m really hoping that I’ll be able to start posting sometime in July. I have such a bad history of starting stories and then not finishing them that forcing myself to wait before I start posting is really the only way anything gets done. But I am so excited for you guys to read this. ❤️

#process thoughts #my writing #This Isn't A Ghost Story #thanks for all the support my darlings ❤️#y'all make writing in this fandom such a fun experience #I love this story but I am also looking forward to getting back to my more canon-based AUs #so many WIPs

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starsfallings-archived · 4 years

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Hello!

I’m Samantha. Random facts until you get a clearer picture of me:

I love books. My all-time favs are: Throne of Glass - Sarah J. Maas, the Dregs duology and King of Scars - Leigh Bardugo, the Infernal Devices and the Eldest Curses - Cassandra Clare, the Folk of the Air - Holly Black, Miss Peregrine’s - Ransom Riggs

I’m a cat-loving hufflepuff. And I worship Crookshanks.

I write fantasy and fantasy only, though other genres are often incorporated into my stories

I live somewhere in Asia

I’m straight but I support anyone who identifies as LGBT+. You will be forever welcome here.

This writeblr aims to:

provide a larger platform, so more people can read my wip

allow me to have more fun writing

inspire more writing (but I don’t create prompts, merely prod your imagination a little)

TLQ will be released on Wattpad in August [you can find me at awritingcat]. But before then, there’s plenty of goodies I’d like to share with you, here, that readers on Wattpad won’t get to see (unless I decide otherwise, I guess).

So, you must be wondering, what’s TLQ about?

Well, it’s a found family-type trope (yay?) in a science fantasy setting. It takes place on future Earth and the Dome, a place specially created for the story. I have six differing POVs, four female and two male. (We’ll get into this later.) Four of them are immortals, by which I mean they have a quadrupled lifespan of about 400 years compared to the average human lifespan of anywhere from 60-100 years. The story follows their journey as they come together under difficult circumstances to save the world before the determined antagonist ruins it.

Now, that was a little vague. Over the course of the next month, I’ll be revealing more about my characters (these will be titled Character Cheatsheets, or CH^2) and facts about the Dome (these will be labelled Worldbuilding, or Wb). You will get facts, snippets of various drafts in various states of vagueness (but never incorrect grammar), and little secrets that may or may not eventually come up in the story itself.

Every week, you will be shown one Ch^2 and one Wb. These will include the snippets and secrets. When I release them will be completely random. Occasionally, you may see a Bonus post that can include anything from more snippets to completely random out-of-context quotes I came up with in the middle of the night.

I’m new here, and I need accounts to follow. So, if you see this, and post about any of the following, please either reblog (preferred method) or send me a message.

writing tips

WIPs that are about fantasy of any kind, and those that include faeries

WIPs that are about dystopian worlds

WIPs that include LGBT+ characters, because the more I know about this community the more well-written certain characters will be

anything remotely related to writing (even if they’re just hilarious memes and the like)

Thank you so much for reading all the way here, I really appreciate it :)

Edit: A (somewhat) daily section will be uploaded, called Writing Log (or WL). In it, you’ll be able to see how many words I wrote and for which draft and chapter.

Second edit: I’m starting a taglist, so if you want to skip straight to all the TLQ posts, send a message or ask!

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #introduction

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angelsfalling16 · 4 years

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Chapter 5 of Friends Don’t Engaged

Read it on ao3

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 2587

Summary: Simon puts his plan into motion.

A/N: Thank you @wo2ash for beta reading! <3

***

Simon

When I return to the flat after talking to Ebb, Penny still isn’t there, but I go into her room anyway.

I know the container has to be in here. The hall closet is stuffed to bursting, so there’s no way that it’s in there, and there’s nowhere else for it to be except somewhere in her room.

Unless she threw it all away. Which is doubtful. They put hours of work into planning this fake wedding, and Penny has kept every notebook she’s ever written notes in, so there is no way that she threw this out.

I flip on the light and look around. There aren’t many places that it could be hiding. The most obvious place would be under the bed, so that’s where I look first, and sure enough, it’s there, filled with all the magazines and papers that a few days ago, I was hoping to never see again.

Right now, though, I’m relieved to see them because I have a plan.

I pull the container closer to me, pop the lid off, and start pulling things out.

All the stuff in here is a symbol of everything that I will never have unless I find a way to show Baz that I’m serious about him.

As I flip through the notebooks, looking over guest lists and seating plans, a rush of emotions flows over me, hitting me from all sides.

This box is full of so many possibilities, and I couldn’t see it until now.

Before, I only saw all of these things as an impossible future, something that would hurt me, but now, I look at it and wonder. I wonder whether Baz and I could actually do this. Could we celebrate our love for each other and spend the rest of our lives together?

It only takes me a couple of seconds to decide that yes, that is definitely something that I would want. I would want to commit myself to him, to a lifetime of showing him how much he means to me.

I would do anything to be with him for the rest of our lives.

Towards the bottom of the box, I find what I’m looking for. Wedding invitations and save-the-date cards.

They’re blank and only meant as samples, but as I look at them, I think that they will work perfectly for my plan. I grab a notebook, the one still open to the guest list, which Penny has already added addresses to, and a few of the cards and start filling out a few of them with a date for over a year from now and one of the two venues that Baz was pretty keen on.

He was trying to get me to choose one last week, and even though I knew which one I preferred, I never told him.

Now is my chance to try to change things.

I only fill out three invitations: one to Penny, one to Dev and Niall, and one to Baz.

None of them will go to someone that will make this hard to undo. Only to the people to whom this can be somewhat easily explained to.

I slide them into the envelopes before packing everything else back into the box and slipping out the door again, this time headed to the post office.

It is a little strange to send mail to my own flat, but I need them to all arrive on the same day for this to work.

This at least gives me a couple of more days to figure out the rest of my plan.

This probably isn’t quite the romantic gesture that Ebb had in mind, but this will just be the beginning. It’s my way to show him that I’m serious about us, that I’d be willing to marry him today if he’d let me.

I know that there are better ways of going about this, but I need to do something big, something meaningful, and really, what else do I have to lose? I’ve already lost his friendship. The worst Baz can do to me at this point is never talk to me again, which is going to happen if I don’t do something.

The next part is going to be a little more difficult. I’m going to have to get him to be in the same room with me so that we can hash everything out. There are so many feelings that have built up between us, good and bad, and so much that has gone unsaid. It’s going to take a while to work through all of that.

I just hope that Baz will be open to it.

***

Not long after I’ve returned from the post office, I find myself sitting across from Penny and Dev at the small kitchen table.

Penny got back from wherever she has been all day about an hour after I got back. I was sitting in my room, a welcome change from the living room, when she knocked lightly on my bedroom door before letting herself in.

She was wearing a serious expression, and I began to worry that she had somehow found that I had gone through the box and sent those cards, and when she spoke, I began to worry a little more.

“Hey, Simon,” she said softly. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, gesturing for her to join me on my bed.

“Actually, Dev is here, too, so I thought we could sit at the table instead.

“Oh,” I say, furling my brow in confusion. “Okay.

I knew that it was impossible that he could have received the save-the-date card that I sent out earlier, but I was struggling to come up with any other reason for why he would be here or why they would both want to talk to me about something.

But now here I am, sitting across from them, and I begin to wonder when they became a team — and when they decided to start plotting together.

They take turns speaking, explaining how they’ve been meeting up and what they’ve been talking about for a few days (so that’s where she’s been all day.) It’s almost like they wrote a script, switching off talking about different points in such an organized manner that I decide not to speak until they’re done so as not to break the flow that they’ve going.

It takes me a while to realize that their plan is to get me and Baz together. It’s surprising because I didn’t think either of them cared so much about whether Baz and I were together. What’s more surprising is they honestly believe that their plan will work.

It could be a good thing, though, because their plan will be a good second part to what I was trying to do. It might even be a better idea than what I would have come up with.

Although, I still have my doubts about it.

“Do you honestly think that he’ll talk to me after all of this?” I ask. “I got mad at him and ignored his calls. I haven’t even seen him since…” I shake my head, not wanting to think about that day anymore. I need to focus on the future and trying to make Baz a part of it. “I’m worried that I’m going to show up and have him immediately reject me without hearing me out.”

“You won’t know unless you try, Simon,” Penny says gently.

“You don’t get it. I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t want to be with me. From day one, that’s all he ever said to me. That it wouldn’t work between us. That we couldn’t be together. Maybe it’s time that I accept that.”

Instead of making me feel better about my plan to talk to Baz, talking all of this through with them is making it clearer that this isn’t going to work. Why would Baz agree to date me after all of this?

“Why don’t you just take a chance and see what happens?”

“I don’t want to face his rejection.” I don’t know that I can take it anymore. I’m already in enough pain. Why would I want to cause myself more of it?

“You don’t know that that will happen,” she says.

I shake my head. “I can’t risk it. It’s better this way.”

“How?”

“He likes you.” It’s the first time that Dev has spoken in a while now, and it catches me so off guard that I freeze, mouth open, the rest of my argument slipping away.

“Dev,” Penny says, giving him a warning look that I am personally very familiar with. “We agreed.”

“It’s the only way. We have to tell him the truth.”

“About what?” I ask.

“Baz has liked you for years,” Dev says, almost matter-of-factly. “He’d never admit it to you because he’s just as worried about rejection as you are, but he’s liked you for a long time.”

“Why should I believe you?” I ask. Even if we’ve grown friendlier, how do I know that Baz didn’t put him up to this so that he could break my heart even further?

But I know Penny would never go along with something like that. She wouldn’t intentionally hurt me, so either Dev lied to her, too, or there is some truth to what he’s saying.

“I’m one of his best friends. He told me how he felt, and I want him to be happy. If that means setting him up with the boy that we fought for years, so be it. As long as it gets him out of his flat.”

“Why wouldn’t he just tell me?” I wonder, not sure if I’m asking them or myself.

“For the same reason you wouldn’t tell him how you felt,” Penny says. “He was afraid to lose you.”

“How long have you known?” I ask her. “How he feels, I mean.”

“I suspected while you were fake dating, but I didn’t know for sure until after you proposed.”

I think about it for a long moment. I want to believe them. I want it to be true. But it’s difficult to believe that Baz could think of me that way. I have to at least try to find out if it’s true. I’ll regret it if I don’t.

“You really think that he’ll forgive me?” I ask warily, starting to give into that small bit of hope. “That he’ll give me a real chance?”

“You might have to apologize and talk through it with him,” Penny says, “but I’m fairly confident that he’ll come around.”

“I’ll do it. I-I’ll try to at least.”

“That’s all we’re asking you to do. We just want you to try.”

“Not now, though, right?” I ask. I need a couple of days to prepare myself. “Could we do it the day after tomorrow?”

“Of course. Whenever you’re ready. Just, don’t wait too long or he may be gone.”

“Right.”

They go over the details of their plan with me one more time, and once Dev has gone, I return to my room to try to figure out how I can make this right, what I can say to Baz to fix this.

I really screwed up, especially since I never returned his calls, but I really hope that I can make things right with him.

I want to be with Baz, and that won’t happen unless I fight for him.

I spend the night staring at my ceiling and remembering all of the good moments that I’ve had with Baz over the past several months. It’s like a montage of every moment where we forgot that what we were doing was a competition, and we just let our feelings rule us.

Those were my favorite moments with him.

We’d give in and forget for a while that it wasn’t real.

There was a lot of kissing involved in those moments.

It wasn’t just for show because most of it happened in our room or dark halls or any other secluded areas that we found ourselves in. It was like we couldn’t stay away from each other - and didn’t want to either.

When I was on my own again, I would blame it all on the fact that I was letting my feelings for him lead me to do this, but I wasn’t the only person pulling the other away from the crowd to kiss them.

We wouldn’t even say anything to each other. We didn’t need to. There would be a light tug on an arm, and then I’d find my lips pressed to his, out of the view of other people.

As we grew closer as friends, I found that I couldn’t stay away from him. The line blurred between what we were doing for the sake of competition and what we were doing simply because we wanted to.

I’d see him on the way to the class, and I felt like I had to be near him. Occasionally, I gave into that urge and moved closer to him, my fingers wrapping around his wrist and tugging him away from prying eyes. I’d soon have him pushed against the wall, covered by shadows, and I’d be kissing him before he could protest.

There were other times when it was me who was suddenly pulled away from the crowd, Baz’s mouth on mine before I realized what was happening.

We’d pull away much too soon, avoiding each other’s eyes, and be on our way again, never saying a word about what happened.

It has continued to happen recently, even now that we’ve left school. Baz comes over to hang out, and we end up in my room, my fingers tangled in his hair and our tongues wrapped sensuously around each other.

There was one time that we got a little carried away in the kitchen, which Penny did not appreciate too much when she walked in and found me sitting on the countertop with Baz standing between my legs.

I thought that she would demand to know why we were doing that, but she seemed more concerned that we were doing it out in the open rather than in the privacy of my room.

Remembering it now, I can’t help but smile.

I loved those moments.

I loved being with Baz and not caring what anyone thought. I loved thinking that maybe there was a chance.

I want to experience that with him again, which is why I have to make things right with him. And soon.

Hopefully before those save-the-date cards arrive.

I can’t believe I actually sent those out. It was a stupid idea, and it is likely to have the opposite effect of what I wanted.

Rather than show Baz that I’m serious about the way that I feel about him, he will most likely see it as an attempt to continue the competition, much like what I did with the fake proposal.

I just have to hope that talking to him will help him see that it is absolutely serious, that I care about him and want more than this. I have to hope that he has grown to know me well enough not to think that I would do something like this to hurt him or continue a competition that I’ve despised for a long time now.

I need him to give me a chance to explain.

Otherwise, there may be no going back from this.

#snowbaz #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #carry on #wayward son #rainbow rowell #snowbaz fic #snowbaz fanfiction #fdf2 #friends don't get engaged #fake dating fic #my writing

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theprodigypenguin · 4 years

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Writing Commissions {open}

As most of my followers know already, my laptop very recently broke, and I haven't been able to write as frequently or in as much volume as I usually do.

At the same time I've been going through a rather hard time, and writing is one of my main coping mechanisms, how I leech myself of toxic emotions and relax, do something productive with my anxiety and depression.

Thanks to my broken laptop, I have not been able to cope productively or in any healthy way at all, which is not good for me, but it has taken a LOT longer than expected to save the money I need to replace my laptop.

So, I made the decision to open writing commissions. I imagine I'd get more luck if I was an artist, but alas, I am not, so here I go shooting my shot. If you're not interested, don't feel bad about ignoring this post. I'll add the information in a "read more", as it will likely be a long post.

Feel free to reblog this if you want, but you are under no obligation to do so.

~~~~~

You can call me Nico (formerly amelia vale). I've been writing regularly for about 10+ years with a small handful of local college writing courses under my belt (I actually won an award in my first creative writing course. It was a college course and I believe I was 13 or 14 at the time (my charter school allowed me to take college classes while still in highschool)). I've also won a few local essay contests in my town, which probably doesn't mean much, but that's my history.

In my time writing I've finished 11+ novels (some of which reached 50 chapters+, and some which are not posted anywhere online yeet), and over 30 one shots, drabbles, and novellas, with a handful of in-progress novels and shorter fanfictions. I've written both fanfiction and original novels of varying genres.

I am by no means an expert in my craft, and while I do dream of publishing professionally some day, I am nowhere near that goal. I'm certainly hyping myself up, but I just wanted to express the experience I have with writing in general to assure possible consumers that I at least 89% know what I'm doing 🙃 I've also already done a few writing commissions in the past, which can be found on my DeviantArt, but you can find more recent examples of my work on Wattpad and Ao3.

Fandoms I've written for: Harry Potter, The Cursed Child, Riordanverse (notably PJO, HoO, and Magnus Chase), OHSHC, Voltron: Legendary Defender, One Piece, Hetalia.

Note that my main focus currently is Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (Jeddy and Jegulus mostly) but I have some experience writing in the fandoms above, though not all of those fics are posted online, and not all of them are incredibly recent.

I'm comfortable and have experience writing in an assortment of genres and themes, including smutty or sexual themes, incredibly graphic and triggering themes including r@pe, assault, abuse, neglect, torture, self harm, suicide (please note I wrote these themes as a form of therapy, not cuz I'm creepy), fluff, whump, dystopia, post apocalyptic, werewolf, vampire, etc (please ask if you want to know if I've written in a specific genre or theme not listed).

*important: just because an author may write something, does not mean they support that theme. I've written about graphic violence, r@pe, and racism, but I do not in any way support that crap.

Most Recent Examples of my Writing:

Chances || Venom || Broken Doll (rated E, very graphic)

Examples of Smut/Sexually Themed fics:

Say My Name || Chances || Rythmn of the Night (wattpad) || Encantador de Serpientes (wattpad)

Examples of Original Work:

Pigment || What Happens in Vienna || Love at First Crepe

Fanfic Examples:

The Hyacinth Prophecy(PJO) || Road to Ruin(PJO) || Serpentine Curse(PJO/Magnus Chase) || Make Peace(VLD) || Something Just Like This(VLD) || Stupid Deep(HP) || Recovery(HP)

So if you've gotten through all the above 👆👆👆👆 (it was actually lowkey stressful to write cuz I'm very bad at complimenting myself, A for effort) and still are curious or interested in commissioning, then below are prices, things I will and won't write, payment methods, etc:

Things I won't write:

incest, pedophilia, graphic depictions of r@pe or any form of sexual assault, marginalization of a race or group I have no personal affiliation with* (I won't write about a black woman enduring racism because I am not a black woman, etc), underage relationships (both characters must be over 19, unless it's a strictly familial fic).

*I will happily write a black character or any other race/minority, but I do not believe I have any right to add in their racial experiences as I have not experienced them for myself, and that would be wildly insensitive of me. I've written about marginalization from a second perspective before, but I had a lot of help from a POC reader while I was writing.

Things I will write:

fluff, smut (within reason plz), whump, romance, familial, Original work, OCs, fanfiction*, pretty much everything else that isn't in the "won't" list. I'm pretty flexible.

*Disclaimer: All characters in any of the fanfiction I write belong to their respective owners, and I claim no rights to them or to their individual stories. I do not own any of the properties, I am simply producing fan works based on or inspired by them.

Prices:

$15 - for fics under 3k

$20 - for anything over 3k words

$30 - $40 - for smut (smut is extra because I don't write it a whole lot, but I CAN write it, and normally smut fics end up much longer than general fics)

*MUST BE 17+ TO COMMISSION SMUT (if your age isn't already in your bio I have every right to decline the commission. I just don't feel comfortable writing smut for anyone under 17. I know youngins will read it anyway, but this is just a personal pet peeve of mine)

Payment Methods:

You can pay either through Ko-fi or PayPal, whichever you prefer.

Rules:

PLEASE be kind and respectful to me.

Stay in contact with me as MUCH as possible.

I prefer a lot of communication, especially during my writing process, as I want to be sure I get every detail of the fic right for you.

Full payment upfront (this may change later, but currently I would prefer it upfront)

I do not have a time limit on my writing, that kind of thing stresses me out and my writing quality suffers, which commissioners do not deserve. I can however guarantee that I WILL finish your fic.

Please do not increasingly pester or ask me if the fic is finished or how it's going, I promise I will give updates when they are necessary.

The more enthusiasm and details you give regarding the kind of fic you want, the faster I will finish, because I'll probably get just as excited as you. Basically hype me on the theme and I'll be dying to finish.

I need money because I need a new laptop but I still want this to be fun for me, and for whoever commissions me.

I have a right to refuse any commission request without explanation.

This is NOT first come first serve. I will choose the commissions I feel I can do my best on to ensure you get the best quality writing.

Due to the fact I have a fulltime job already, and I can't write that much on my phone or tablet, and the fact I'm saving up to buy a laptop, I will only be taking two commissions at a time, so as not to overload myself and so I can provide a piece of writing to the best of my abilities. When I finish those two commissions, I will reopen these again, until I've saved enough for a laptop. I figure between commissions and work, I could afford one… maybe February if I'm lucky.

After which I will likely shut down commissions (unless something super serious comes up again).

Slots:

#1:

#2:

CONTACT:

You can DM me on Tumblr or email me at [email protected]

If you do not want to commission me, or can't commission me because you are also broke (same bro) then feel free to reblog if you want (you have no obligation to).

If you still want to support me somehow but can't afford that much, you can donate to my Ko-fi. I actually don't drink coffee, I drink tea, so I'll have to change the caption from "buy me a coffee" to something else, but yeah.

Thank you greatly to the people who read this far, even if you don't commission. I appreciate all of my followers and whoever decides to help, as well as people who can't. I know commissions are a luxury, so if you can't afford it, don't feel bad, you don't need to apologize, cuz that makes me feel bad too. It's totally okay.

And for people going through a similar crisis, hang in there. It can only be shit for so long after all.

NOTE: COMMISSIONS DO NOT INCLUDE PROMPTS THAT HAVE ALREADY BEEN SENT TO ME, so if you have sent in prompts in the past, THEY ARE NOT COMMISSIONS. I asked for writing prompts/requests, so they are no included in this.

18 notes · View notes

callunavulgari · 4 years

Text

Year-In-Fic | 2019

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount?

This year I wrote 41 fics (technically 40 as the last was published today, but I wrote it in December so I’m counting it), for a total of 96,689 words. For even more interesting numbers, of that 96k, a little over 70k of them were written in the month of October alone, so I’m pretty proud of that.

Fic Roundup!

children of dust and ash | Bartimaeus | Bartimaeus/Kitty(/Nathaniel) | 1,801 words | Kitty summons Bartimaeus on a chilly fall day in her thirty-eighth year.

sweet music playing in the dark | DBH | 1,102 words | “I noticed some time ago that you seem to have an appreciation for jazz.”

Radio Ga Ga | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,143 words | There’s always another party in Hawkins, Indiana. It would be almost boring if it weren’t for Steve Harrington.

Sunlight | Marvel | Loki/Thor | 765 words | They aren’t quite out of the solar system when Loki appears at the arm of Thor’s chair, hair shorn short and a furious snarl on his face.

like the bough of a willow tree | Detroit Become Human | Hank/Connor | 1,214 words | There’s a human lost in his woods.

knocking on heaven’s door | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,748 words | “Just, get in the fucking car. I’ll drive you home.” Billy looked at him, very seriously, and said, “What if I don’t want to go home?”

no more dreaming like a ghost | KH | Axel/Roxas | 813 words | He is in the kitchen, the stove top still warm under his thighs, and everything smells of cherries. The pie is cooling on the windowsill, the sun slanting in warm and buttery, and it is like a dream. A memory. A wish.

Cheers | DBH | Hankcon | 6,368 words | “Are you coming in or not?”Connor blinks, jerks his eyes up and away from those hands and-The bartender has blue eyes. They match the spinning LED at his temple perfectly.

bury a friend (try to wake up) | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,587 words | Steve digs up Billy’s body on a Tuesday.

won’t be too soon ‘til I say… goodnight moon | KH | Riku/Sora | 4,549 words | The house was built in the fall of 1882.

you’ll never know what hit you | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 5,379 words | “C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

make this chaos count | EOS 10 | Ryan/Akmazian | 724 words | “You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

eat you up whole | The Witcher | Geralt/Regis | 2,527 words | “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

forget the horror here | DBH | Hankcon | 4,390 words | “Hello,” the android says, it’s chest heaving, the gleam of its heart brighter, bluer than before.

summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas) | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 3,868 words | “If I let you out of that circle,” Ryan says, slowly. “Are you going to eat me?”

Itch | The Magnus Archives | Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims | 1,440 words | The boneturner takes from him two ribs - one for him and one for Jon.

the salt water sting | Dishonored | Corvo/Outsider | 2,163 words | The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca.

a skeleton of something more | SGA | Rodney/John | 3,072 words | “John?” he murmurs, still coasting on the pain. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, if cotton were also made of glass.

in the woods somewhere | Teen Wolf | Derek/Stiles | 4,570 words | Stiles buys a house in Virginia.

Wake Up | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jon | 550 words | “If you wake up,” Martin tells him, experimentally. “I won’t go through with it. You can tell me what a stupid idea it was, and we can laugh about it, and everything will be normal.”

Pas de Deux | KH | Axel/Roxas | 506 words | Roxas doesn’t remember what the sky looks like anymore.

try to wake up | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,226 words | They do not, in fact, bone down and praise Satan.

too late to come on home | LoZ | Gen | 1,391 words | “You look familiar,” the boy says in his strange, haunting voice. “Are you lost?”

patron saint of the lost causes | Harry Potter | Draco/Harry | 4,203 words | “Can’t you just, y’know,” he waves a hand and makes an obscene gesture, his cheeks flaring red. “Shag it out?”

wouldn’t you like to see something strange? | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 1,571 words | “I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

the night is softly, sweetly calling | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 2,938 words | Here’s the thing that Stiles never tells the Hales: his mother was strange too.

Haunt | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 1,486 words | Ryan couldn’t remember a time when the world didn’t believe in ghosts.

bite my tongue, bide my time | PJO | Nico/Percy(/Annabeth) | 1,376 words | “What’s wrong with you?” Nico asks, cowering when Percy places a gentle kiss on his collarbone.

Bird Song | Raven Cycle | Ronan/Adam, Gen | 1,445 words | On a dreary Sunday in early January, Ronan dreams himself a pair of wings.

kiss me hard until you’re done | Star Wars | Reylo | 3,082 words | He looks up at her from under heavy lids, dark hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

beauty in the dissonance | Marvel | Tony/Loki | 1,411 words | When Tony dies, it isn’t for forever.

like real people do | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 2,808 words | “I’ve got the sight, man,” he says with a small shrug. “And look, I feel for you. You’re dead and I’m not, and that sucks, but unless you’re planning on doing something about it, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop feeling me up and let me get back to sleep.”

i’d rather drown in your ocean | Naruto | Itachi/Shisui | 1,630 words | The Uchihas are an odd sort. Everyone says so.

catch your breath | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien/Sam | 2,588 words | Mark had never assumed in a million years that he would ever see Damien again. He hadn’t factored in zombies.

Nightmare | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jonathan | 1,424 words | “All right,” he says, taking Jon’s still outstretched hand. “Let’s give the dream what it wants.”

dreaming of the crash | Gravity Falls | Mabel & Dipper | 484 words | When the end of the world comes, they’re under the bed.

don’t we love it now? | Kingdom Hearts | Sora/Riku/Kairi | 1,784 words | When Kairi is eleven years old, she gets lost in the woods.

all this, and love too, will ruin us | Star Wars | Reylo | 1,102 words | Rey is awake to watch the sunrise

open the walls, play with your dolls | Coraline | Coraline/Wybie | 2,886 words | Halloween at the Pink Palace is a lot like any other time of year.

in every golden trace | Queen’s Thief | Costis/Eugenides/Irene | 4,645 words | For as long as Costis can remember, he’s had two names scored across the skin atop his ribs, one on either side of his rib cage, nearly perfect mirrors to one another.

a different kind of danger in the daylight | Shades of Magic | Lila/Kell/Holland | 6,930 words | Sleeping with Holland was never part of the plan.

Best story I wrote this year: Probably the night is softly, sweetly calling. I wrote this for the 18th of October, and it’s the much awaited third part of a Teen Wolf/Addams Family fusion that I wrote back in 2014. A lot of people have asked me to continue this series over the years, but I never did because I felt my writing style had changed too much and then I fell out of the Teen Wolf fandom completely. But I’d written another Teen Wolf fic a few days before (more on this later) and I was just... very nostalgic all of a sudden. My style of writing had changed, but to offset the change of tone, I wrote the story from Stiles’s POV instead of Derek’s and it made all the difference. I was pretty pleased with the result, and hope that it made everyone happy.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. patron saint of the lost causes. There were a couple fics that I think I did a really good job writing this year, the one listed above and below included, but I think that this one was my favorite. Writing Drarry was a surreal experience, because even when I was in the Harry Potter fandom I didn’t really write for it (well, I didn’t publish what I’d written for it) and I was surprised by how easily it came to me. I tried to channel a lot of the feeling of men who had mothers when I was writing this one, because it seemed very right.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. All right, so technically my stats are all messed up this year because when I posted the third part of the Addams/Teen Wolf fusion, I also posted a chapter to Que Sera, Sera since so many people were subscribed to that story. So. From a purely stats standpoint, Que Sera, Sera was the most popular because it has a total of 25,790 hits, 2973 kudos, and 115 comments. BUT, I did not actually write anything new for that one so-

in the woods somewhere was the first fic I’d written for Teen Wolf since I wrote take me to church in August of 2017. It has over 900 kudos and some 5000+ hits. When I decided to do Dark Month this year, I knew that I wanted to revisit some of my old fandoms, so Teen Wolf was always going to be a given. I wrote take me to church as a cathartic goodbye to the show, the fandom, and of course, Stiles and Derek. It was my soft epilogue for the boys.

in the woods somewhere has a very similar feel to it. It’s post-canon, obviously, and features Stiles buying a house in Virginia and Derek slowly working his way back into his life. It is also very much in the ‘soft epilogue’ genre, leaning heavily into the magical Stiles Stilinski trope while maintaining the FBI agent direction canon was leading us in. Also it has a lot of comfort things for me - judicious descriptions of food, a packed witchy cabin in the woods, and warm shower kisses. Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Possibly either won't be too soon 'til I say... goodnight moon or all this, and love too, will ruin us. The first of these two fics is almost 5k of spooky season Riku/Sora that was strongly inspired by Uzumaki-sama’s old fic Goodnight Moon. It was the second day of October and my prompts for the day were moon cycles, nightmare, cage, lookalike, mirrors, and glowing eyes, which was just asking for fic exploring doppelgangers and old haunted houses. I loved writing it, and maybe I should have expected it since Kingdom Hearts is such a quiet fandom nowadays, but it honestly stung that it didn’t get more attention.

The second of those fics was a Reylo fic (yes, yes, I know, it’s an awful ship, etc. etc.) that was very much written to be slow and melancholy and kind of surreal. Sometimes my smallest fics are my favorite, and I really liked this one. But alas, some things were not meant to be.

Most fun story to write: I had a whole lot of fun writing summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas). A lot of the fics I wrote this year, particularly during October, were really fun and easy to write. I missed writing every day. This one in particular though was about 4k of Ryan accidentally summoning Shane (the demon) while Shane was standing right next to him in his human suit. It let me play with a lot of body horror tropes that I don’t explore usually, and Buzzfeed Unsolved is a very fun, fresh fandom to dig around in. This is the second of the three (I think it was three, at least) fics that I wrote for the fandom during October and I had so much fun with it.

Story that could have been better? I don’t know about better, but Sunlight and Bird Song were both supposed to be significantly longer. I wrote Sunlight shortly after watching Endgame, and it was always going to be me working my way through my issues with that movie (Loki not really coming back, weird wonky time travel, Thor leaving his people after his whole arc was him learning how to be a good king) but I got distracted and had to go somewhere that day and just never got back to it.

Bird Song is actually a fic I’ve been meaning to write for years. Ages ago (and we are truly talking ages ago, like September 2015 ages ago), @kaikamahine gave me a prompt for E, 17, and hymnal, which basically balanced out to Ronan, churches, and wings. So day 20 of October was going to be Raven Cycle (with such prompts as stacked deck, darkness, wings, and fight fire with fire, it was begging for it) and I was finally going to write Ronan wingfic. It was going to be great. There was going to be Calla and Ronan interaction and found family themes and there was going to be a church, because obviously, but then I wasn’t doing so well and ran out of time, SO. Definitely could have been better.

Story I wrote to fix things: beauty in the dissonance, the 24th fic of October, was a Tony/Loki flavored story where both Tony and Loki are, in fact, alive. Sunlight was written as a direct response to Endgame, even if it was never finished properly. make this chaos count was the 4th day of October, and written because I’m still not fucking over Ryan and Akmazian. And then knocking on heaven’s door was written just after viewing s3 of Stranger Things. It was uh, less of a fix it fic and more a wallow in your grief fic, but it still applies.

Oh, and a different kind of danger in the daylight was technically fix it fic? I’m generally okay with how Shades of Magic ended, despite my favorite character dying because it came off as a good death. However, the recipient of my Yuletide gift wanted no character death and I wanted to write something post-canon, so presto, fix it fic.

Longest completed fic this year: a different kind of danger in the daylight, followed by Cheers. Both are hovering between 6 and 7k, which isn’t technically long, but since about 90% of my fic this year was written over the course of a day each... I’ll take it.

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year: I had a lot of fun with Buzzfeed Unsolved and The Magnus Archives, but I also had fun dipping briefly back into Harry Potter and Teen Wolf.

Favorite character you wrote this year: I had way, way too much fun writing Geralt and Regis in eat you up whole. I have literally no idea if it translated into good fic, but it was fun and just shy of porny and I just really like Geralt. I also had a lot of fun writing Lila in the Shades of Magic fic.

Most memorable comment(s) this year: I got two comments from @kaikamahine about a week ago that honestly made my day. @faorism reread one of my older Stranger Things fics and left a comment, which made me reread it, which was just very good. Every single comment I got on the new Teen Wolf fics with some variation of ‘missed you’ or ‘so glad you’re back’ made me fucking melt. The two different comments where the reader wasn’t even familiar with the material, just read and enjoyed because I wrote it. The comment on one of my Stranger Things fics that just reads, “What the FUCK this SLAPPED.” The comment directly above that one that is from one of my favorite writers in the fandom. The several comments on the single PJO fic I wrote this year which were different variations of “oh my gosh it’s you” and “it’s been so long.”

And of course everyone losing their collective shit over some of the grosser October fics. Namely Itch.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t: For the most part, the fics I wanted to write but didn’t are the same as last year- Sabriel AU, Enjolras/Grantaire fic, found family Dishonored fic, bodyswappying Reylo, Sterek Bioshock and Carmilla AUs which I am likely to post as is sometime next year.

I still want to finish the Castlevania OT3 fic, the giant canon-divergent Bright Sessions AU where years after the series ends, Mark ends up running into Damien again in a small town in the middle of nowhere only to realize that he has a daughter, a farm, a life, and is just so drawn to it that he keeps coming back. I have the Wolf 359 post-canon fic where everyone has feelings and found family is a general theme and maybe Eiffel smooches an AI. I also have the smuttier Wolf 359 fic that’s been lurking in the back of my head for months where Eiffel and Kepler er, basically eiffel tower Jacobi.

Oh, and I have the Reylo fic where Rey (and Ben, through the bond) sit through General Organa’s funeral and keep coming back to each other afterwards. And that Final Fantasy 15 fic where Dino and Noctis do the nasty. And the Hera & Jacobi fic from October. And uh, the post episode 9 fic that’s been lurking about in my brain.

Oddest story: Probably i’d rather drown in your ocean? It was pretty spot on aesthetically for me, but it was weird to write Itachi and Shisui again, especially in a strange modern day vampire context? Also Itch and Nightmare were both Magnus Archive fics that were super gross (Itch) and just plain spooky and bizarre (Nightmare) but they were so fun to write. Hardest story to do: Cheers gave me some trouble initially but got a lot easier as I went on. I hit writer’s block pretty bad with the Shades of Magic fic too, but that seems to be what happens when I come up on deadlines. Easiest story to write? Most of October’s fics were a blast to write and super easy besides. Basically all of the Kingdom Hearts, Stranger Things, and Teen Wolf fic. And the Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Most mining of your own history in one story: Probably either open the walls, play with your dolls or no more dreaming like a ghost. Not in any way that really matters, but there are a couple familiar details.

Themes, or absence thereof: Mostly either spooky scary things or fix it fics. Sometimes both.

Where did you publish/archive your stories? Ao3, as per usual. Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: The only thing that I currently have planned is the post episode 9 fic and a couple things that I’ve had planned for a while that may or may not come out.

Sexiest moment (excerpt): “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Geralt murmurs, and Regis laughs.

“I would,” he agrees.

“So, why don’t you find out instead of boring me with all the details?”

Regis pulls away from his throat, far enough that Geralt can meet his eyes again. He swallows at what he finds there. Amusement, yes, but also hunger, brighter than the moonlight reflecting in his eyes.

“A taste, first, I think,” Regis says in a low, cool voice, and then closes the space between them.

Geralt had forgotten the blood on his lip, but he remembers it when Regis catches him in an open-mouthed kiss. It’s wet and bruising, and Geralt is responding before he remembers he shouldn’t, fighting back the only way he knows how with the rest of him indisposed. He claws at him, bites at him, and the vampire laughs when Geralt catches his plump lower lip between his teeth and bites down. Regis gives his mouth one last darting swipe of the tongue before he is pulling away.

There’s a flare of color high on Regis’s cheeks and his ears are distinctly more pointed than they were five minutes ago, the sclera of his eyes gone red.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been bitten by a human before,” Regis tells him, leaning close like he’s divulging a secret. “It’s a rather exhilarating experience.”

“I’m all for a repeat experience,” Geralt quips, eyes narrowed. “Lean in just a little and we can see if I can manage to tear off your lips before you rip out my throat.”

“Please,” she whispers, and feels herself quiver like a taut bowstring when he touches her mouth gently, with the very tips of his fingers.

He smiles and leads her away, through the demons and goblins and fae that she came here to kill.

They make it as far as the parking lot before he is hitching her up the side of a gleaming Mercedes, hooking her legs around his shoulders, and hiking her skirts up over her thighs so he can duck his head beneath them. His fingers linger for a moment on the silver of the knives strapped securely to her thigh, and then he is reaching in, guiding her underwear to the side and getting his mouth on her, right where she wants it.

She must make some kind of noise, because he chuckles, tongue circling her clit in a slow, languid way that makes her think that he is savoring her, that he likes the taste of her on his tongue.And he must, because she knows what he is. Knows that just as he’s savoring the taste of her, he is eating her, feeding off of her want like the things that she hunts in the dark feed off of blood and marrow and souls. She knows, but it isn’t enough to stop her from tilting her head back, gasping for him, the distant wink of streetlights and stars so far away.

He makes her come with his mouth on her, with his fingers inside her, and even as she’s shaking around him, she knows that it isn’t enough. She wants more, wants to feel the heavy press of him inside around, wants to kiss his lips and taste herself on his tongue.

“Please,” she says, her thighs shaking, and he laughs, pulling away and easing her down, until her legs are looped around his waist instead of her shoulders. He reaches between them, and she knows what’s happening beneath her skirts, knows that he’s getting his cock out of his pants and pressing it against her, can feel it as he sinks slowly into her, the tight fit of it so sweet, so perfect that it makes her ache.

“You’re lovely,” he whispers, kissing her shoulders and fucking into her slow, a teasing stretch that makes her mouth water, makes her twitch.

“Is this what you wanted?” Hank jeers, one finger circling the rim of Connor’s hole. There’s a flush of angry blue across his cheeks. His hair is coming loose from its usually immaculate tail, curling against his forehead. His eyes are blue. His LED is not. “To lay back and take it? From a fucking machine?”

Connor whines, back arching as Hank dips the tip of his thumb inside, just enough to hold him open.

“That is it, isn’t it?” Hanks says softly. There’s a touch of triumph to his gaze as he fucks Connor open on his thumb. Something mean, too. Disdain, slowly unfurling in the curve of his lips. He shakes his head. “All this time, coming to this bar. Talking to me like you thought I was some kind of human, and you just wanted something like me to hold you up and take you apart.”

“No,” Connor gasps, but can’t help the twist of his hips when Hank adds another finger.

“No?” Hank says with a laugh. “Look at you.”

Connor’s cock jerks against his belly as Hank drags his pants the rest of the way down his thighs. They make it as far as his knees before they tangle, stuck on his shoes. His cheeks feel hot, and he- god, he wants to protest. Wants to say that Hank’s got it all wrong, that this is more. That he’s more.

But then Hank is flipping him over, until the arm of the couch is digging firmly into his belly, his ass high in the air. Hank pulls his fingers out, then leans over and spits, the cool slippery slide of the saliva trailing down the curve of his ass.

“All right, Connor,” he says. “This what you want? I’ll give it to you.”

No, Connor should say. It isn’t like that.

Instead, he says, “Please.”

Crackiest moment (excerpt):

“Did you just sneak into my house?” Stiles breathes, absurdly charmed.

Derek’s in his human disguise, everything dangerous about him hidden away from view, lurking just under the surface. He gives Stiles a look, and says, “Don’t be weird about it.”

He shuts the door behind him.

“I’ve got a nice monster knocking on my door just before the witching hour,” Stiles tells him playfully, making room for Derek to take a seat next to him. “How am I not supposed to be weird about that?”

Derek does something akin to rolling his eyes, the flames doing a little shimmy around the circumference of his eye sockets. He leans back against Stiles’s headboard, seemingly unconcerned that their sides are pressed together. Derek’s skin is very warm, human warm, and Stiles is all bones. He sucks up the warmth greedily.

“I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

“What’s the local legend about this thing?” Shane asks, hopping up onto the throne easily and spreading out, eyes on the night sky. He looks good. He always looks good, but Ryan likes him best like this, out here with the moonlight shining down on them and the camera catching all his best angles.

As Ryan watches, he blinks, and turns to look at Ryan, puzzled. “Ryan?”

Ryan clears his throat. “The locals say that if you make a wish while sitting on her throne, the witch will grant it.”

Shane gives him a wicked smile and hums a few bars of Genie in a Bottle. Ryan chokes out a laugh, crossing the space between them until he’s leaning up against the side of the throne himself.

Shane closes his eyes. “I wish, I wish with all my might, please dear god, let there be ghosts here this night.”

Ryan holds his breath.

“C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

All around them, the world is still.

Shane cracks an eye open and squints at him. “Did it work?”

“Jon?” someone asks, and Jon blinks.

Martin is standing before him. He’s wearing something out of another time, a costume of silken breeches with a well-cut waistcoat of a rich, opalescent blue. There’s a puffy cravat hugging his neck, and polished buckled shoes on his feet. Jon almost expects him to be wearing a wig, but his hair is the one thing that’s been left untouched, hanging loose around his chin.

“Martin?” Jon asks.

Martin seems to take him in, his eyes running slowly down Jon’s body, lingering at his wrists, his waist, his thighs. It’s a bold sort of move, one that Martin would never be half so blatant about if he were awake.

“You, er. Look nice,” Martin says, and Jon glances down at himself.

He’s sure that moments ago he’d been wearing the same thing he’d worn to the office, shabby coat, mostly clean shirt, a pair of nondescript trousers that didn’t have any stains. But now, he finds himself in a dress. The gown is long and brilliantly red, the skirts heavy around his thighs. There are embroidered patterns reminiscent of roses along the bodice and down the front of his petticoat.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, still staring. Experimentally, he moves his hips, and finds that the skirts swish obligingly with the movement.

“Yes, well,” Martin murmurs, cheeks flushing horribly. “You always did look rather good in red.”

“In red-” Jon repeats in horror. “Martin, I’m in a gown.”

Favorite dialogue (excerpt):

“Are you ever going to stop looking for me?” Akmazian asks him one night.

Ryan is tired. Akmazian is a shadowed figure in the dark that he tries not to look at too closely, because if he does, Akmazian will be gone.

“Maybe,” Ryan tells him, and turns over onto his side. Away from the shadow, the ghost.

The bed dips under the weight of a person who isn’t really there, and Ryan can feel Akmazian’s breath on the back of his neck, warm and damp.

“Don’t touch me,” Ryan says, and means, I don't want this to end yet.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, darlin',” Akmazian murmurs back, then drags his lips over the back of his neck anyway, just to be contrary. Ryan swallows, his throat dry, tongue thick in his mouth. He clenches his fingers in the sheets, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that his vision stains red behind his eyelids.

“Please,” Ryan says.

“You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

“I know.”

“You’re never going to find me.”

Ryan laughs. “Never say never.”

There is silence behind him and then, “Ryan. Please. You’re hurting yourself.”

Ryan trembles a little when a hand lands on his hip, just this side of too solid.

“Don’t care.”

“You’re hurting the stars.”

Ryan is silent for a moment. Then, “I just miss you.”

A sigh.

“I know,” Akmazian murmurs, and leans over to place a kiss on Ryan’s forehead. “I miss you too.”

Ryan opens his eyes, turns to look, and like always, Akmazian is gone.

“Look,” Potter says, audibly slurring. “I’ve had an idea.”

Draco crosses his arms. “And what, pray tell, is this idea of yours, Potter?”

Potter leans forward, using a hand to prop himself up, until he’s well into Draco’s personal space. He smells like beer and whiskey, and his cheeks and jaw are more beard than stubble.

“Break your curse with me,” he breathes, a hand settling atop Draco’s blanket-clad knee.

Draco swallows. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“No, look,” Potter says, leaning in even closer, eyes a bit wild. “We can just… you know.”

“No, Potter,” Draco tells him. “I don’t know.”

But he does. He really does.

“You know,” Potter says again. “Shag it out.”

“I think that you’re confusing things again,” Draco says tiredly. He sets the book on the nightstand next to him. “Remember the terms of the curse? Love, Potter. Not sex.”

Potter’s nose wrinkles. “But sex is part of love. Usually, anyway. It’ll work, I know it.”

“It won’t,” Draco insists, slapping Potter’s hand away when it begins to wander up his thigh. “Do you really think that I didn’t shag my wife before she left me? Because I did. We tried for years. Years, Potter. Trust me, if the curse were going to break because of a fuck, it would have happened well before now.”

Potter blinks at him, his eyes wide. There’s a ruddy flush on his cheeks, and Draco’s not sure if he likes it.

“We could at least try,” Potter says, almost gently. He doesn’t touch Draco again, but he looks like he wants to, hand trembling where it lays on the bedspread.

It feels like there’s glass in Draco’s throat. He is so, so tempted. Here is what he wanted - or at least part of it - Potter in his bed begging to fuck him, and he’s going to have to send him away.

“I think you should leave,” he tells him, and Potter’s mouth shuts with a click.

Favorite lines (excerpt):

“Relax,” he croons, stroking her fingers before he pulls away. “Your secret is safe with me. Most of this crowd knows that I’m not on speaking terms with that side of my family. They won’t suspect you because of me.”

Her face is flushed, either from rage or humiliation. Possibly both.

“So you-”

“Yes,” he says, fingers dropping to caress the fabric of her gown, swirling a thumb around the sweeping petals of an embroidered rose. His gaze is sly, a bit predatory when he glances back up at her. “I know what you have under this pretty skirt of yours.”

Rey’s breath catches, and she feels something- a slow trickle of heat seeping in to pool around her navel. She shifts, thighs sliding together, and hopes that he can’t smell her.

“Just as I know exactly what you’re doing right now,” she tells him in a hard whisper, jerking away from his grip on her elbow.

His eyes widen, affecting a look of innocence - a ‘who me?’ - that isn’t quite as effective when his lips are also curling up into a slow, pleased smirk.

“And what exactly am I doing?” he asks, his eyes laughing at her.

She glares at him. That seems to be enough of a reply, because he chuckles before taking possession of her arm again and pulling her smoothly towards the dance floor. Once they’ve reached the edge of it, he stops, dropping her elbow in favor of dipping into a low, courtly bow.

He looks up at her from under heavy lids, his hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

The dance floor is crowded, full to the brim of masked people sweeping by in jewel-bright dresses and dark suits. She knows not to - knows that this place is a lot like fae courts of old. You don’t eat the food, you don’t drink the wine, and you definitely don’t dance.

But she’s already drank the wine, so she might as well dance.

The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca. The storm that ends them is a rare sort, fiercer than most, a huge bank of dark clouds that seems to come from the void itself, blooming on the horizon like a warning. The lightning cracks the world asunder, thunder deafening, but it's the wind and waves that will always be a ship’s downfall.

Corvo watched the wave approach, saw its frothing white caps and the way it had stretched, higher and higher, until it loomed over the ship.

They never had a chance, and by the time the wave came crashing down, Corvo was already holding his breath.

Much of what he remembers after are mere snippets: the gulping suck of the water around him, broken pieces of the ship spinning by along with those of the crew who were unlucky enough to be caught by the ship’s pull, sucked down into the void, devoured by the whale god himself. He remembers his first gasp of air once he’d surfaced, the tang of brine and salt heavy on his tongue as wave after wave battered his body.

He doesn’t think that most of the crew survived the first few minutes much less the whole night, and he is certainly alone when the sun blossoms on the horizon hours later, clinging to a piece of ship the size of his torso and kicking relentlessly towards the dawn.

Corvo grew up on the coast, his hair stiff with salt from the ocean breeze. He grew up in and out of the water, hauling cargo or gutting fish on the docks. He’s familiar with the ocean - how the pull of the tides work, which days its best to avoid the dock, how to escape the sea’s wrath when a riptide or an undercurrent tries its damndest to drown you.

So he knows that his chances of making it to land are slim. But Corvo has always been stubborn, his legs have always been strong, and his story is far from finished.

Stiles buys a house in Virginia. It’s a modest thing close to Quantico, but not too close, tucked away into the heart of the wooded Appalachians. The bones of the house is all stonework and sturdy dark wood, a rickety wraparound porch bracketing the house on all sides. The first thing that he’d bought for it were two overpriced rocking chairs he’d gotten from the nearest Cracker Barrel.

Over the course of a year, he fills the house with things. A soft, dark gray sofa. Several solid end tables. A pair of emerald lamps he gets from an antique shop. A moss-green throw that is warm as a hug when it’s wrapped around his shoulders in the dead of winter. His living room is a bit too mountain man chic, but he likes the way that it looks when he’s coming home from a long day at the academy, warm and inviting.

He gets his bed set from a woodworker a couple dozen miles down the road, a man with a gruff bristled gray face and a warm smile, who trades Stiles the custom set for some warding and a couple bottles of what he calls, ‘miracle elixir.’ The set is sturdy mahogany, a pair of wolves carved across the top of the curving headboard, runes filling the gaps between them. The chest of drawers and dresser are just as solid, and Stiles has to hire movers to help him get everything back to the house.

The bulky rednecks decked out in worn flannel that help him with it carefully avoid looking at the runes of the headboard, their eyes skittering away from the carvings like frightened rabbits. They exchange apprehensive looks when they see the herbs drying over the sink in his kitchen, but to their credit, stay quiet and hightail it out of the place when he pays them. Here in the Appalachian backwoods, no one talks about magic, but everyone knows it exists.

Stiles has people over every once in a while - flies his dad and Scott in from California, has Lydia drive down from Boston, or Kira from North Carolina - but mostly, he’s alone. It’s a strange thing to get used to, the silence of the nights out here, where the night sky is bright and clear enough to see the stars above him, not a hint of light pollution to be seen, and the trees rustling in a quiet wind is almost louder than the hoots and hollers of the local wildlife.

He’d thought it would be lonely, and to be fair, sometimes it is.

Some nights he comes home and collapses back onto his sofa, and would do anything to be right down the road from Scott and Melissa and his dad again. He has days where he craves Melissa’s pozole or his dad’s meatloaf so badly that he can taste the heat of it on his tongue.

But mostly, the quiet is nice.

He cooks himself soups that simmer in the slow cooker while he’s at the academy and roasts that he makes on the weekends. He experiments with food the way he never used to back in Beacon Hills, where he had his dad’s heart to worry about if he made anything, and fast food which was easier to grab when he didn’t. He takes a world tour through his kitchen - homemade pierogi, hearty paella, steaming pirozhki, spicy-smelling curries, and hand rolled sushi. The first time that he makes his own bread in the ancient oven that came with the house, the smell of it coming fresh out of the oven is so good that he nearly cries.

It’s three winters into living there before he hears a scratching at his door in the middle of the night, and when he goes to investigate, finds a large black wolf on his doorstep.

It’s favoring one of its paws, dark fur matted on one side of its head where he can dimly make out a sluggishly bleeding gash. It blinks at him, eyes glowing a bright, familiar blue, and Stiles spends a minute watching it before he smiles and steps aside.

Fic goals: Hey Heather, it was only 800 words, but you did technically write something original. Now, let’s do something original that’s a little longer. And while we’re at it, let’s do something novel length.

#heather says what #heather writes #2019 #new year's memes

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totallycorrectpmdquotes · 5 years

Note

I'm on another PMD kick, and I stumbled across your Backfire fic on AO3, and it's super good so far! Even if it's a while to the next update, it was totally worth reading what you have so far-- so good job, and good luck with it if you ever continue!

Thank you so much! :DD

But speaking of updates...

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

Uxie’s powers aren’t just limited to his lake, and affect all memories which could be traced back to the Time Gears. It’s easy to imagine the mental catastrophe this could cause in the mind of someone who’s spent nearly their entire life looking into them. In his defense, Uxie was really mad at Grovyle.

For Chatot, it had been aparticularly frazzling evening. The Guildmaster had reorganized a storage roomwith a rather small window for Grovyle by throwing all its contents into thehall. Bidoof and Loudred carried out their orders to clear the mess away quicklyenough, although Chatot would not bethe first one to open the closets they had stuffed everything in. When OfficerMagnezone had led the secret transport of the still unconscious Grovyle,Dusknoir had followed. As Grovyle was deposited in his new bed – closer to theGuildmaster’s chamber than any of the apprentice’s, just to be safe – Dusknoirhad promptly positioned himself outside the door.

“Dusknoir, Sir,” Chatot had said,“we can have the apprentices take over that position. You don’t need to troubleyourself for us.” His intention had been to send Chimecho to take over, andmore importantly, have her make sure the Great Dusknoir was alright.

But Dusknoir had waved him offand refuted any further attempts to convince him that they could help. “I camehere to find him, I’ll guard him. It’s no trouble.”

A few minutes later, Dusknoirapparently caught sight of his reflection in one of the lower-level drinkingfountains and jumped in fright. No one dared to ask what startled him. Herefused to leave his post when dinner was ready as well, despite the fact thatGrovyle wasn’t due to wake for another several hours. And Chatot, well, mayhave reacted by bringing him a plate of leftovers sprinkled with a portion ofground sleep seeds.

He was concerned and had everyright to be! Dusknoir would surely be upset when he woke, and Chatot would takethe consequences of his actions in stride. He would apologize for hisdeception, but not for his actions. Dusknoir needed to rest – whatever ailmenthe was suffering from would not be treated if he ran himself ragged.

Night fell on the guild, andChatot enlisted Chimecho’s help to move the now fully asleep Dusknoir to theGuildmaster’s bed.

“And remember, this stays betweenus.” Chatot said, well aware that Chimecho already knew and wouldn’t say a wordabout Dusknoir’s condition. Nervousness kept him tittering about, though. “Areyou certain he has to be awake for you to examine him?”

“Sorry,” she said, and used herpsychic to gently set Dusknoir down. “If he’s against it, we could have someonetalk with him and I’ll examine him while he’s distracted.”

Chatot hesitated for a secondbefore he sighed. “You have better eyes for this than anyone in the guild. Ifyou think that would be enough for you to help him, then I trust yourjudgement.” He shrugged off Dusknoir’s bag and did his best not to look at thesleeping form. “You may take your leave and return to your quarters.” He was very aware she would not be doing that;the apprentices would be meeting in Team Relic’s room, where the two would bebombarded with questions about why they had decided to let Grovyle stay.

Chimecho nodded, and with a quietring of her bell, she left the room. Chatot watched her leave before he nudgedDusknoir’s bag closer to him. There was something strange about the bag,something that Chatot struggled to put a feather on, but it clicked when hefound a worn patch on the right side where a few rolled up pieces of parchmentwere visible. The bag was the same model as Grovyle’s.

Chatot allowed himself a momentof short, quiet laughter – he’d had such a horrifying feeling, and all it hadamounted to was that. How incrediblysimplistic. Those bags must be mass produced in the future with that samedefect. It was unfortunate that the Great Dusknoir had such a poor qualitytreasure bag.

With one long look at the piecesof parchment which, really, were none of Chatot’s business and were not something he’d be prying into,Chatot returned to his post outside of Grovyle’s room. The Guildmaster sat tothe left of the door, two crochet hooks in his hands and what looked like a half-finishedyarn apple in his lap.

“Hiya!” The Guildmaster said,loudly, but clearly trying to be quiet. “How’s Dusknoir? Is he having sweetdreams?”

“I’m sure he is,” Chatot said,and made himself comfortable to the right of the door. “And Grovyle?”

The Guildmaster put down his yarnand stared across the room. “…No,” he said, “he’s still having nightmares. Buthe’ll be awake soon. He’ll be happier then.”

Chatot glanced back, through thecurtain they’d draped over the doorway. The shadows were twisted around Grovyle,and in the dim light almost looked like they were standing over him.

Chatot pulled the curtain openfarther as Grovyle shuddered, and the illusion faded.

.-.

There was no vulpix named Breannain the Wigglytuff Guild. However, there was one who’d introduce herself by hernickname, Breeze.

She hadn’t known that Pokémon goby their species name unless interacting with their family until she was told.She was practically illiterate – everyone around wrote and read in footprintrunes, but she didn’t even know the alphabet. When asked where she was from, orwhy she had made her way to Treasure Town in the first place, all Breeze had tooffer was a shrug.

Honestly, it was impressive thatno one had figured out her secret yet. Well, they’d figured out about herDimensional Scream, but her secret of being a ‘human turned Pokémon withamnesia who couldn’t even remember her own real name’ was still safe.

Mostly.

Breeze sat beside her partner,Dusk, with their guildmates crowded into the room with them. They’d beenarguing for the past several minutes. Breeze had been reorganizing her treasurebag for most of them and left Dusk to deal with their friends’ questions.

At least Chimecho had taken pityand brought him a chalkboard so he wouldn’t strain his voice anymore.

“But I don’t understand,” Sunflora said, “he’s a bad Pokémon!”

Dusk dipped his paw in chalk duskand drew several footprints from various normal-types while Breeze triplechecked her stash of orans for any orens. She returned them to her bag as Duskgestured to his writing.

“I guess,” Sunflora hesitated,“but you can’t change nature.”

“We are still worried about youtwo,” Dugtrio said, “you may be confident in this second chance, but we wouldhate to see a horrible fate befall you.”

Breeze didn’t look at him (them?She really needed to find a chance to ask what Dugtrio preferred) and insteadgently dumped out her orbs. She started to sort them by function, thenalphabetically on top of that. Dusk used some grass and water-type footprintsthis time.

“We will not question yourdecision further,” Dugtrio said, “but know that you may fall back on us if thisfails.”

“WELL, I will!” Loudred announcedand was promptly shushed by the rest of the apprentices.

“Oh my gosh, do you want Chatot to come tell us off?”Sunflora said as she whacked him with one of her leaves. “Be quiet for once!”

“Fine!” Loudred said in whatcould barely be counted as an indoor voice. Breeze heard him stomp towards her,and kept her eyes focused on the orbs. “Vulpix, don’t do anything stupid.”

Breeze pawed categories of orbs alittle bit farther apart. “I won’t.”

“I mean it,” Loudred said, “Idon’t care if you think he’s cool,you get yourself or any of us killed we’re going to have a problem.”

Breeze licked her lips and didn’tlook up at him. “I won’t,” she repeated, “I know what I’m doing.”

“But that’s what we want toknow,” Chimecho pointed out, her voice gentle. “What is your plan? We know hewon’t remember you, and that you feel bad because of how much he’s missing, buthe nearly killed you both. Why are you putting so much faith in him?”

Dusk started to write somethingdown, but Corphish held up a claw to stop him.

“Hey-hey, no offense Riolu,” hesaid, “but I want to hear what Vulpix has to say about this. She’s been tooquiet.”

As an agreement rippled acrossthe guild, Breeze coaxed her orbs back towards her. “Uh,” she swallowed,“well…”

Breeze frowned. Why… why was she doing this? Yes, she felt badfor and identified with Grovyle, but she hadn’t been a bad person. She’d neverhurt anyone who hadn’t deserved it, and Grovyle had nearly destroyed the world.He’d tried to kill her, Dusk, Uxie, Mesprit, Azelf – everyone. What if she was looking at this all wrong? What if hestill remembered how much he wanted to hurt them, just not the why? What if she was being stupid, andputting so much trust in someone who was just going to hurt the guild?

“Come ON!” Loudred said, yellingright by her ear, “Spit it out!”

There was a muffled squawk beforea tremor knocked the apprentices off their feet.

.-.

Dusknoir sat on the edge of afrozen riverbank beside a man dressed in shades of gray. They had a pile ofrocks between them and sat in silence as they threw them into the river. Thesound of a splash was there, but the water didn’t move as it sucked the rocksdown. Dusknoir pulled out a rock, flat and circular with small protrusionsaround the edge, and handed it off to the human. Immediately after touching itthe human gasped and gripped his head. The rock fell from his hand and rolleddown the bank, bouncing twice before it finally settled in the shallows.Dusknoir stared at the man, and he stared back with blank, unseeing eyes.

Dusknoir blinked.

He was on a cliff face, a body infront of him and his hands stained a dark red. There was a loud, shrill noise.There had been for the past minute.

He turned around, and the imageof a small child with red-brown hair drifted away like smoke. The cliffblurred. The body faded.

He was in a blank but colourfulroom, and in front of him was an unfortunately familiar shadow form with a wispof white hair.

“Hello, Hope,” Darkrai said,absolutely smug, “are you having a nice nap?”

“Don’t call me that,” Dusknoirsnapped, immediately on guard. “What are you doing here?”

“What, you thought you were theonly one who followed those idiots when they fled back in time?” Darkrai said,“I knew you were dense, but I was hoping you weren’t stupid.” He sighed,overtly dramatic as Dusknoir scowled. “Of course that was too much to hope for.Tell me, what was your theory for why the brat doesn’t remember you anymore?The power of friendship between you and your minions?”

“You don’t need to act like achild,” Dusknoir growled, and continued to stare at Darkrai’s smug face. “You…did you do that to her?”

“If it’s any consolation, it wasa happy accident. I was aiming for the nuisance your friends have dumped in theother room – I planned on blasting him out of existence, but your little bratsaw me and took the hit.”

“She’s not mine,” Dusknoir corrected,“if you did this to her, why don’t you go finish the job?”

“What, and take all your glory? Please,” Darkrai grinned, “besides, Icould ask you the same thing. You’ve completed your mission. Why are you stillhere?”

Dusknoir narrowed his eye andspoke carefully. “There was an issue with creating the Dimensional Hole back.”

“Oh, why didn’t you say so?”Darkrai said, faux cheerful and still unbearably smug. He snapped his fingers,and the dream world shifted to hold a frozen Dimensional Hole. “I’ll just set thisdown right outside, and then you can finish your job.”

No! “That’s not necessary,” Dusknoir said quickly. “Besides,they’re both still far too entwined with the others in this time. I’ll needmore time to separate them so I can take them back without severely -”

“If you’re going to make excuses,at least put some effort into them.”

Dusknoir froze. Darkrai suddenlyseemed so much bigger than him. “E-excuse me?”

“I own dreams, you idiot. This is my realm.” He was barely the size ofDarkrai’s eye now. “I know you don’t want to leave. For all you try and protestyou want to stay here and enjoy this time before it’s gone, while still pretendingyou’re just doing your job. And who could blame you, especially with your history? I wonder what Dialga wouldthink of this after how much faith they put in you. I’m sure they’d be rathercross.”

“Don’t question my loyalties,”Dusknoir shouted back, and struggled to keep himself steady as Darkrai’s laughshook the dreamscape. “I’m just as loyal to Master Dialga as you are!”

The laugh grew louder. Thecolours got brighter, more saturated, and began to drip into each other.

“That’s not a very high bar,”Darkrai said. “Still, if you’re oh so convinced of your loyalties, then let memake the task simpler for you.” Dusknoir looked down and saw that his handwrapped around Chatot’s neck.

“Wait -” he couldn’t shout. Hisvoice wouldn’t get any louder than a whisper. The ground below him started toshake as the shadows morphed into Wigglytuff, and the colours dripped into thebackground of the Wigglytuff guild. Dusknoir tried to shout again, but no wordscame out.

“The Dimensional Hole will beatop Mt Bristle when you’re done,” Darkrai’s voice said, echoing fromeverywhere and nowhere at once. “Don’t take too long. Make sure you don’t needmy help again.”

A variety of faceless shadows ranin from down the hall, led by that same little girl with red-brown hair.

Dusknoir jolted, free from thenightmare. Breanna, who’d led the charge of apprentices through the guild’sshaking halls, was a vulpix again.

Dusknoir dropped Chatot and backedup as quickly as he could. The guild stopped shaking as Dusknoir raised hishands, and everyone ran over to help Chatot up. He had tiny flakes of ice inhis feathers, and Dusknoir glanced down at his hands in horror. There was norecovery from this. He would be run out – he needed to grab the two he had comefor and be done with it. He had no time to waste.

“I’m alright,” Chatot wheezed,and looked over at Dusknoir, halfway across the room. “Dusknoir, sir?”Wigglytuff grabbed Chatot and held him tight as the rest of the guild movedcloser. “Are you okay?”

Dusknoir swallowed and glanceddown at his hands. He scrambled to find the words, but his tongue was stillfrozen. He couldn’t think of what to say.

He looked up, at Chatot at first,then past him at Breanna’s horrified look. Then past her, at the green form inthe doorway he was supposed to be guarding.

Grovyle met his eyes before he ducked back, andDusknoir was confident he’d seen the whole thing.

#PMD #Pokemon Mystery Dungeon #Not Quotes #Mine #Backfire #I really like writing the stuff Dusknoir's going through it's so much fun #also my girl finally got herself a POV spot! There will absolutely be more of that since I love her #Anonymous

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