#heres a deleted scene from the forces fic i think about often
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Sonic doesn't know what he loathes more; being forced to sit in the dark, unable to move in a locked cell for Chaos knows how long or facing the nightmares the occasional light entails.
He grumbles to himself as he shifts in his restraints, the chains clinking against the metal floor as he tries to sit up straight once more. Half lidded, tired eyes look ahead aimlessly, the bright shine in those emeralds has taken on a more dulled shade in these past few months or something. How long has he been here exactly? He doesn't know. A part of him doesn't want to know.
He's tired.
Sonic places his head on his knees as softly as he can as to not worsen his throbbing headache and then he runs a hand through his dishevelled quills; his fur is a mess — don't get him wrong, Sonic isn't that much into modern fur care techniques, he just lets the wind style his quills but the recent lack of, well, just about everything from proper food and water to even a hint of sunlight has made his fur thinner than it already was. Sticky with sweat, his fur has become dry, dull and matted. It feels horrible, or that's what he would say if he didn't have worse things to worry about right now.
The door to his cell creaks open, a shilling sound that makes him pin his ears down to his skull and grit his teeth — speak of the devil…
Sonic doesn't look up, doesn't want to, not anymore when he hears someone step in and close the door to his cell once more, blocking the onslaught of more light than he's ever granted in this confined space again.
Again.
It happens again and that's what gnaws at Sonic's guts from the inside out.
Always, he always comes back.
Little, calculated steps patter towards him, a bit scared with the way they move. As if too confused whether or not it's a good idea to reach Sonic and too hasty and terrified that they wish to be next to his side in an instant.
Or so it seems to be, Sonic knows better.
Because always it starts the same; like a dream he wishes so badly to be true, a vestige he longs to hold in his arms, a visage he never wants to let go of and yet he knows how it ends, how he's painstakingly given a ray of hope and how mercilessly it is snatched from his hands, how quickly the light is snuffed out, just how heartlessly everything is taken from him, leaving him feeling more vulnerable than he's ever been, re-evaluating whether he even deserves to be called a hero when he can't even save the people he holds dearest to his heart, why has he gone so weak that he can't even save someone in his protective embrace.
Nothing scared his little brother in his embrace, nothing.
It's as if the warm barrier of his arms is enough to word off every threat, every nightmare, every strike of thunder.
He remembers it so vividly, holding a scared little fox kit close to his chest and watching his tense shoulders relax, his shivering body calm down, his soft sniffles turning into gentle purrs.
It leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
He'll never hold his little brother like that again.
He can't hold him at all.
Tails isn't here anymore.
And it's all Sonic's fault.
The little footsteps stop somewhere before him, not more than a feet or two away. Sonic doesn't want to look up, Sonic doesn't want to see that face again.
(He's lying. He desperately wants to see that face again, he's dying to look in those ocean eyes full of life, to run his hands through the soft golden fur, to wrap himself around that little body and protect him from everything. Everything—)
Sonic's quills bristle when he feels them plop on the cold, metal floor before him.
Nothing happens for what feels like hours. Sonic doesn't look up and his guest doesn't move an inch from the spot they've taken. The silence becomes overwhelming, frightening but Sonic will never say that out loud. Because why should he? Why should he admit he's afraid when he swears he's not.
(And if he's not afraid why won't he look up?)
Sonic has had many nightmares in his life, why does this have to be the worst one, why does this one has to repeat itself — why can't they just let him mourn once.
Everyone dies.
But everyone dies once.
Then why bring him back every time? Why use his face to haunt Sonic? Why can't they just let his little brother rest? Why does he have to suffer just so they can get to Sonic?
What did he do to deserve this?
A small hand rests on his forearm.
Reluctant, yet Sonic finally raises his head.
Just as he feared, he is greeted by his little brother's face. Not the same as he lost him but the same as he so clearly remembers — the brown fur, the big baby blue eyes open wide, the unsure movements, the oh so tiny hands, the cream tipped twin tails, the three unruly bangs… The weak little toddler he took under his wing, malnourished, scared with a mind brighter than anyone else in the whole world and a determination to rival his own.
He looks what? Four? Barely five?
It makes Sonic's heart crumble.
He shouldn't be here. He doesn't belong here.
There's no recognition in emerald eyes, no emotion the little cub before him can decipher. Just tired, dull greens that match lively, bright blues.
The cub tilts his head when Sonic doesn't regard him, one of his ears flops to the side when he does, a small frown tugs at his lips as he knits his brows in confusion and Sonic has seen this little perplexed face too many times to count.
Still, the kit words the question assaulting his mind and, Chaos, the small voice tugs at the hedgehog's heart, “Sonic, are you upset?”
Innocence oozes out of the simple question, the cub's bug eyes don't help Sonic's case at all. He knows it will only hurt to reply, but how long can he ignore a child he raised?
“Yeah… I guess you can say that, bud.” Sonic reaches out a hand, seemingly to pet the kit's head but stops midway. The gloved hand hovers over the younger for a moment before Sonic retracts it, resting it on his knee instead.
If it is possible, Tails adds with an even smaller voice, “... With me?”
Are you upset with me?
What a silly question.
Sonic can never be upset with Tails.
The answer is right there, it is not even something he has to think about. Upset with Tails? As if. He can't be even if he tried to, not more than a second at best. Why would he? The kit has never done anything wrong, anything worth getting mad at. Tails is a good child and he's so much better than Sonic in many ways — Tails is polite, he plays ahead, he's a better negotiator, he's almost always the voice of reason, he makes better decisions — Sonic can never be mad at him.
Yet he says none of it out loud.
His reply never comes.
He doesn't know why.
(Is he actually upset with him? For coming back or for promising to make him live through the loss again?)
The kit all but crumbles at the lack of a reply. His ears pinning against his skull as he lowers his head, carefully taking his cold hand off of Sonic's arm and leaving it lying uselessly in his lap.
Instinct yells at Sonic to pick up the fox cub and cradle him in his arms, hush him and tell him whatever self-deprecating nonsense his brain is feeding is wrong and Sonic can never be upset with him, isn't upset with him right now and how he shouldn't beat himself up over little nothings when his big brother is right there to protect him from ill thoughts but Sonic doesn't move. Don't get him wrong, he wants nothings more that to pull the kit in a strong embrace but he can't get himself to do so.
He always loses Tails in his arms.
He's too scared to hold him, afraid that he will lose him the moment he pulls the boy to his chest.
He doesn't want to.
He doesn't want to go through that again.
Maybe it's selfish of him to think like about his charge but he can't.
He just can't.
If it was anyone but Tails, Sonic might have done something. He might have pushed himself to at least calm them down even if it will just make the departure more painful.
But not Tails.
Not his little brother.
(Not as a toddler for Chaos’ sake)
“Sonic?” The kit calls again, the hedgehog doesn't acknowledge him. Tails continues anyway, “Did I-I do something bad?”
No. No, he didn't. Of course, he didn't. He can never do anything bad. Not in Sonic's eyes, never. Still, the hedgehog doesn't say anything. He doesn't find his voice strong enough to reply. Instead, he rests his head on his knees again and runs a hand through his quills with a sigh.
Now that he's not looking at Tails, it sounds like the kit is on the verge of crying, “Do you not like me anymore?”
Nothing. The answer is right there but Sonic says nothing.
Tails sounds terrified when asks another question after a brief pause, “Are you going to throw me out too?”
Never.
Never.
Sonic will never understand those stupid, superstitious villagers who abandoned this sweet child because of something out of his control, chasing him out of every warm place he could find, starving him, abusing him like he wasn't even a person, looking down at him like he was some freak, sneering at him as if he was a curse — they make his blood boil to this day. Irrelevant, they don't matter. What matters is that Sonic will never be like them, Sonic will never abandon Tails, Sonic will never leave him behind. He will always wait for Tails and they will always stay together because that's just who they are; they're Sonic and Tails, they're the unbreakable bond. Nothing separates them. Nothing can.
And yet…
“I'm scared…” Tails sniffs, “It hurts.”
That gets Sonic's head snapping up, eyes wide open as he uncurls to reach for the kit, looking over him to find any injury that may be causing him pain that he hasn't noticed yet. His chains move with him as he cups the younger's face in his hands — and oh Chaos, did he really use to be this small? — and tries to ignore just how cold he is as he gently checks for whatever is wrong.
“It hurts, Sonic…” The kit cries as Sonic uncovers the bleeding wound that was previously hidden by the tail wrapped around the boy's blood-covered torso. Sonic gulps, finding himself unable to breath at the amount of red staining the cream fur. The wound spans over more than half of Tails’ torso with no signs of the bleeding to stop anytime soon.
It's so unfair.
He hasn't even taken the kit in his arms yet and Tails is already…
“Sonic, please—” Big, fat tears roll down Tails’ muzzle as Sonic wordlessly gathers him in his arms and hastily pulls him to his chest. Tails’ ear flickers with something red as he is moved but Sonic chalks it off as another injury he missed while Tails wraps himself around the hedgehog's middle like his life depends on it. Tails buries his face in Sonic's chest as his voice cracks, “I don't wanna be here anymore.”
“S-Sonic,” Tails calls him again but Sonic doesn't say anything. The hedgehog puts a hand on the boy's back and cradle his head with another as he slowly begins rocking the kit back and forth. None of it helps Tails, “Are you listening?”
He sounds so lost, so desperate.
“I-It hurts… You promised me… You promised you'll save me,” His claws dig into the hedgehog's sides, “Sonic, why aren't you saving me?”
Sonic just rests his face on Tails’ head, nuzzling into his fur as he holds him tight enough that it must hurt. The kit cries and claws, sputtering out words that each feel like a new dagger stabbing Sonic's heart before being mercilessly twisted out. He hates it. He loathes it. He wants nothing more than Tails’ suffering to end.
He doesn't say anything.
At least that way, he can pretend the little body in his arms going still and lifeless doesn't hurt as much as it did the first time. At least that way he can ignore the tears that fall unprompted from his eyes.
_____
It happens again.
It always does.
The door opens with a screeching noise, footsteps sound against the metal floor. They stop somewhere before him.
This time he looks up.
He's met with the masked face of the jackal.
#sonic the hedgehog#miles tails prower#drabble#happy sunday to those who celebrate#heres a deleted scene from the forces fic i think about often#deleted because it conflicted with another plot point :(#you still get it tho :)#at least no one died lol
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How did you become such a good writer? You have an amazing imagination and such a way with words that really makes me feel like "oh shit, I'm physically in the world of this book experiencing what the characters are." You write like nobody else I have seen in the Elvis fanficdom (I truly mean that) and I am humbled by your talent.
Please tell me a little more about your writing process! I hope to one day write even half as good as you.
(Also I need you to continue the Elvis x Godfather AU fic, kthx. Pretty please? I will even help you with Italian dialogue, lol. I'll do anything for it. Here, take my firstborn. :P )
Oh my darling, this is a downright humbling ask. Between insecurity and imposter syndrome, it’s a wonder I manage to keep enough words from being deleted that I’ve actually got series of fics in progress. 🥶 So truly, I’m astounded and touched by your compliments and I adore chatting writing, so let’s see if some rambling of thoughts will be of any aid to you. 🌹 I just snuck a peak at your current fic (forgive me that I’m not in a season where I am reading much, it’s nothing personal, just business that is currently keeping me from exploring more) and I was immediately sucked in by how gorgeously you describe action? It’s poetic yet not overburdened, the way you write people’s movements and elements moving, makes me envy you that. I often feel my descriptions are quite Spartan most the time, so hearing it mentioned as transporting is always a surprise. I don’t think of it as my strong suite. I’ve no real notion how to write a kiss, for instance. Ha.
So, stories…They come to me usually as intriguing beginnings, with an occasional outpost of a stellar scene or two in the middle, and then the muses sit back and cackle like malicious banshees as I beg them for an ending. So, most of my stories are started in faith, often abandoned halfway through, as no clear ending comes. But so far in this fandom I’ve made the most progress and due to the help of this community of friends, I actually have a plot end for both my works. I know some people think of an end and concoct plots around them, and for some it all seems to come at once. And then there’s me with the beginnings and no road map. Which camp do you consider yourself to be in? 😃
And then there’s the work of plotting and outlining which I wish I was better at, as it appeals to me. But the minute I do it, all creative force dies within me. So it’s all buried in my lil noggin for safe keeping until the time comes to write the chapter. What I do plan out, however, is an emotional arc to a story, and a redemption/devolution plot for each main character. Knowing what growth I want to happen when, and what setbacks occur at what times has given me the strangest freedom of settings to accomplish it in -often none I would have plotted out intentionally. But that way I’m not forcing my relationship to grow in the confines of my plot, but rather my plot is the vehicle for the relationship to form and grow. I adore motifs, and I try to pay attention to how they appear in real life. I believe life is very subtly cyclical and the stories that ring truest to me are likewise.
I have a nasty habit in real life of observing everything like it’s witting material. Long before I started writing, I used to feel rather like a detached observer of other people’s reactions to life. It made me notice types of people, and while you can’t peg folks (much as I find personality tests a rather fun attempt) I do hold fast to the fact that in a story, if someone changes for worse or better, if they react for worse or better, it needs to be in character. It’s amazing how much this little detail can help something feel real. You can have a character fail, but if they fail in a way that doesn’t ring true to what we know of them and their motivations, it’ll feel like unnecessary drama to me. Does that make sense? Likewise with the victories -which victories will mean much or little to them? Does it ring true as being fully what they’ve always worked for? And who are they working for? Their own happiness and success? Or do they find more satisfaction in aiding others to reach the summit? Anyway, watching and identifying types of people and keeping those traits consistent on paper is easier said than done, as I’m learning every day. 😂
Lastly, (I suppose) I’d credit any vocabulary, thematic potency and rich setting to the sheer amount of old books and songs I’ve grown up immersed in. My favorite authors are Stevenson, Dumas and Mitchell. All of them set their stories in the middle of massive, world-changing events, yet their stories remained personal. Culture and necessity shape a person as much as taste and upbringing or anything else, and it’s a delight to try to immerse myself in a world different from my own. Basic goodness and basic evil may always remain, but the shades of grey and the loved ones getting caught in events far more powerful than their own strengths and best intentions yet trying their utmost to do well in the times they have been placed in: those are the stories and themes I adore the most in songs and literature. And they’re starkly abundant in dear Elvis’ near mythic life arc. So, here I am weaving tales about what could have been. 🥹
My messages are always open for a grand ole chat about writing, if you ever wanna pop in. I love you dearly and appreciate you so much. And The Godfather AU?! Oh how it has my heart still! I’ll totally take you up on the dialogue and any other suggestions you have that might ignite the smoldering concept. 😘
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#4, #17, #18, aaand #30!
thank you, friend! 💜
#4 a story idea you haven’t written yet
😭I have so many and not enough time! I tend to jot them down, or a start of them, and some of these are - a whole arch or Meryta's time on her the Steppe; the key moments is reuniting with her family and I'm excited to explore that; - a future moment of Tansui being jealous because I'm a gremlin; and much more. Something I have not even jotted down, just thoughts: - Meryta taking Tansui to meet her family, - some undefined arguments between Meryta and Tansui, - some undefined hurt/comfort, - a discussion between Y'shtola and Meryta after Qitana Ravel, - some hot spring /scale care smut....
#17 talk about your writing and editing process
I tend to write in very small bits and pieces, just a little every time I write. I do jump around and do half-finished moments and scenes as they come to me, I find though that it is easier on myself if I can finish a scene and if I can write chronologically. Sometimes I just spin some dialogue pieces and then I have to write them down though?
once I have - a rough, sometimes very rough, draft, I edit, which consists of going through and rewriting a bunch of sentences and moving stuff around. I also often discover i repeat myself and then I try to find the best pieces and the best flow.
If there's something I think i need to delete, i make the text red and eventually move it out of the document if I'm sure it needs gone. If there's something I think needs rewrite, but I can't figure out how right way, I mark it in orange.
then I keep repeating until all the red and orange is gone and I'm happy and then i try and FORCE myself to read it just once more.
#18 if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic
this one is a deleted line from Sake & Truths, a conversation between Rasho and Tansui. I liked it but it didn't fit. I may show up in another fic, the sentiment stands
“She’ll never settle here, or anywhere for that matter. You know that. Can you live with that?”
Tansui has no answer to that. A foolish, fervent part of him wishes she would. Peaceful mornings and lazy lovemaking – he stops his own thoughts. He does not need that.
#30 share a fic you’re especially proud of
okay - I'll share an Dragon Age one; Comfort - a solavellan Vampire AU. I added a back 2 chapters after thinking about it for 2 years and I'm proud of that. It also has some really fun imagery that I love
I'll also share something more recent - Solace and Breakfast - where Meryta runs to Tansui during her time on the First. It became incredible important to me because it's the moment their relationship moves into something more, and I was worried about getting it right. But I went and ahead and finished it and posted it and I'm just proud of both how it came out but also that I didn't intimidate myself out of completing it.
fan writer asks!
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Hi do u have any tips on how to write long fics faster but still maintain good quality? Hehe cos im always in awe of ur ability to write long fics fast and they're so goood!
I just found this in my drafts!! 💔 I can't tell if I ever posted it or not, sometimes I wind up with unpublished doubles. If not, I'm so sorry anon! I'll post this now just in case.
😭 I'm so flattered you said I'm both fast and good quality. I have some posts with info about my process on here under #mywriting or as public posts on my patreon. But let's see, for churning through really long stories, it's definitely not something I used to be able to do, so I think it's a combination of a few things:
Planning enough future plot points or even writing some future scenes that I'm really excited to get to because it keeps me moving towards those moments
My blend of planning broad distant strokes and more details for the near chapters mostly keeps me from hitting that story-killing moment where I don't know what to write next or have any inspiration
If a scene isn't flowing from my brain the way I had hoped and it's a struggle, I try to think of something unexpected I can toss into the mix. Changing the weather or setting of a scene can sometimes do it, or adding someone new to the scene, or just changing the purpose. Stuck scenes really can detail progress.
Sometimes I need to take a step back and work on something else or go for a walk if inspiration isn't flowing, and other times I have to just bully my way through and trust myself to "fix" it in edit. Everyone so often, I realize I'm trying to force something that isn't actually working for the story, so I just let 'er rip, delete and start it again. Honestly I often hate the thing I'm writing when I actually write it but I don't let that stop me. Then later when I read to edit, I realize it's actually not as bad as I thought.
I always do at least one edit pass before I post. This used to mean reading the chapter out loud. I don't do that anymore unless it's a part that seems really clunky or dense to me, but that was part of my process for many years, especially dialogue. I still do it in really important dialogue parts where I want to make sure the rhythm is right.
I also overall think the speed comes from building muscle. I write almost every single day, even if it's just a few paragraphs. It keeps my brain humming and conditioned so then I'm not having to start a cold engine or refind motivation for a story that I've forgotten my enthusiasm for.
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Happy New Year Viv!
Sorry about the forced socialization. I'd trade places with you if I could. Parties with strangers is one of my favorite things (I know, I know), but we are hunkering down here, unfortunately.
I've had this fic idea in my head forever, but I don't know that I'll every get to it with the pace I'm getting through my existing wips. So this isn't necessarily a question or a prompt (though if it inspires anything, like I said, I probably won't get to it), but just a gift of this unwritten fic that will probably never see the light of day
- Coffeeshop AU where Jon is Sansa's manager at a hipster coffeeshop. He is a grumpy coffee snob. She actually smiles at customers and thinks they should stock oat milk and syrups. They don't really get along.
- One day Jon leaves his laptop open on the counter after his shift is over (he's in the back or something), when Jeyne, Sansa's roommate is visiting the shop. Jeyne snoops, and they discover that Jon is a popular BNF and fanfic writer in the same fandom (similar to GoT) that Sansa is also a popular (but more niche) fanfic writer.
- Later that night, at their apartment, they snoop more. Jon writes plot heavy, political fics that are 300,000+ words with a focus on medieval accuracy and NO SMUT. Sansa writes hurt/comfort steamy romances between a non-canon pair that her part of the fandom is sure will eventually be canon, but they are often dismissed.
-Feeling cheeky, Jeyne leaves a comment on Jon's latest chapter (logged in as Sansa) that says "When is someone, anyone, going to bang already?"
- Sansa is aghast but it also makes her laugh. She deletes the comment and forgets about it, until the next morning when she logs into tumblr and realizes Jon has been sending her messages.
- This turns into a situation where she and Jon start working on a fic together under their pseudonyms but only Sansa knows that WhiteWolf23 is Jon and CommitCrimesforLemonCakes is Sansa.
-Hijinks ensue!
Anyway, Happy New Year! I hope the forced socialization is more pleasant and passes faster than expected!
Anna!!! This is AMAZING and I want this fic someday! I don't care if I've gotta wait for it 🤩
Seriously, I love a good Coffee Shop AU and I want to do another Career Day Romance this year but this one needs your perfectly Snarky Jon who's still loveable with his Coffee Snobbery and 300K word fics with NO smut 😂.
I love that Sansa's clearly a Jonsa in this (they hate us cause they ain't us 😌) and I'm with her on writing romance over political-focused fics 💤
I have a half-started story of Sansa the hidden fic writer but it's told from Theon's POV. Basically, Theon discovers his gf Jeyne reading fanfic and gets into it. Later, he realizes that one of his and Jeyne's favorite writers in Sansa. (My real-life bestie and I bond over this stuff after all.) Theon, being Theon, assumes that single Sansa must get all her amazing smut scenes from stuff Jeyne's shared about them when she's actually secretly involved with Jon. Hilarity ensues when this comes out. But anyway...
Thank you so much for brightening my inbox with this deliciousness and I hope you enjoy your hunkering down. Lucky for me, these aren't strangers (that would really have me running for the hills) but a 'late' extended family Christmas. I just want to be comfy tonight, you know?
#new year’s eve marathon 😓#chispas-and-broken-bindings#jonsa fic#fic talk#i hope anna writes this someday
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Jungkook - Dysphoria ch. 1
pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)
summary: Jungkook, a burnt out gifted student, comes home from summer camp not ready to start his sophomore year of highschool, but his friends are there to help him feel better. Although not in the best of ways.
notes: This is a Euphoria-ish au but mostly it's just heavily inspired by the show (I use a few quotes), and each chapter is based on a character. There's a few parts where I cue a song title that's because I made a soundtrack to listen to while reading but I deleted it a while ago so :( if you feel like it listen to the ones I did write down. I'm apologizing now bc my writing can be a bit choppy/rushed its just cuz i have a more drabble-like style and don't know how to write between big scenes. THIS IS A DARK FIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Hope you enjoy and sorry for this big ass paragraph.
word count: 3.9k
warnings: ass-load of angst, mental illness (depression, anxiety, bipolar, OCD, and probably more), drugs (all of them. just all of them), underage drinking, cursing, mentions of self-harm
Next chapter
[Slideshow - Labrinth]
When Jungkook was 5, he wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to fly into the sky and zip around space exploring things never before seen. His little mind was so strong, wanting to learn anything and everything. When he first learned how to read, he would read every sign he passed in the car and play games with the letters he’d find. It wasn’t long before he was placed in advanced classes with kids he'd never seen before and for the first time in his academic career, he was challenged.
When Jungkook was 10, he wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to wear a white coat and glasses and race around a hospital busy saving lives everyday. He wanted people to look to him for advice and treat him with respect. He wanted to feel needed.
When Jungkook was 14, he wanted to be a paramedic. He didn’t think he’d be smart enough to become a doctor so an EMT would have to do. His classes had begun to pile up in work to the point where he didn’t have the time to think about anything but school. He ate, slept, and breathed homework, projects, and term papers.
When Jungkook was 16, all he wanted to do was graduate. He no longer had any desire to pursue his childhood dreams. When he was asked what he wanted to do when he was older, his mind was a void. He couldn’t see any future for himself past high school. He went day to day not bothering to care about what might happen the next day. He coasted through all of his classes and dropped out of the advanced programs that his parents put him in.
His potential was like a flame. It was small at first, but still had loads of potential, so more kindling was thrown on top. The flame received it well, quickly spreading over the new material. But they kept stacking kindling. Stacking and stacking and stacking putting more and more pressure until finally….the flame died. All because he liked to read.
[Forever - Labrinth]
The clouds inched across the sky and rows of crops and fencing whipped by the car window. A stark contrast between the two. Jungkook rested his head against the glass and watched as the car began to pass more and more houses. The familiar area told him he was almost home. He should’ve been glad, elated even. He would finally get to see his friends again, but after three weeks of summer school to catch up on the class he skipped last year he’d lost the ability to smile or show any form of positivity. To say he felt like a zombie would be an insulting understatement.
The car pulled into the ever so familiar driveway and the rest of his family piled out of the car. He didn’t move. He heaved a long, anguished sigh before snatching his duffel bag from the other seat and throwing open the door.
He was out the front door again before his mom could even ask him where he was going. Speeding his bike down the empty road that he’d ridden countless times before. He could make this route with his eyes closed. The house in question came into view and Jungkook pedaled harder to close the distance. He swung one leg to the opposite pedal and straddled it until he swerved to a stop in the driveway. The house was old, hadn’t been lived in for years, wasn’t on the market, yet wasn’t scheduled to be torn down. It was the perfect place for a group of teenagers to tear apart and put back together. Without knocking, he stepped inside and was hit with the welcoming scent of booze, pizza, and weed with notes of cigarettes and coffee. Music blasting from a distant room in the house led him to the living room where he counted one, two, three, four, five people sprawled about the room. Upon noticing him standing in the doorway, they jumped up and raced to pull him into the room.
“Kook! How you been man? How’d surviving summer school go?” Taehyung was Jungkook’s best friend and unsolicited wingman. He was always trying to set him up with girls so he could get his v card punched. Taehyung was ever the ladies man. Never had trouble finding a date or a hookup. No one could blame him though. If they had that flawless, arrogant face they’d use it too. Despite his fuckboy nature, he was the best friend Jungkook ever had. They’d gone to the same school since they were 7 and Taehyung’s untamable charisma sniffed out Jungkook’s shyness rather quickly. They were inseparable and the rest is history.
“Fine I guess.”
“Kookie, come sit down! I’ve been saving your spot on the couch for you!” Jimin pulled Jungkook to the left corner of the C shaped couch. Jimin was like Taehyung in the sense that he also had no issues with finding partners. He wasn’t near as promiscuous as Taehyung, but he made up for it with his bisexuality. He had an entire other gender to choose from. Jimin was probably the nicest of the group. He always gave the best hugs and was their personal therapist. His aura seemed to coax you into opening up to him even if you hadn’t originally planned on it. He had a way of saying all the right words to make you feel better, even if it was just for a moment. On the other side of him, he was the biggest party animal the group had ever seen. Anywhere else, he was the purest angel that everyone believed could do no wrong. But at a party? Park Jimin was a demon. Seductively dancing in a stylish jacket, pants low enough to show his v-line, sweaty hair flipped back pounding shot after shot until he was the last man standing. That guy could party from sun down to sun up like it was a baby shower.
“Did you at least learn anything you missed last year?” Namjoon. Ever the parent. He was surprisingly humble given his father’s status and money. He easily had the best grades among the friends. School always came easy to him, no matter what it was. However, if you saw him outside of school, you’d never be able to guess he was one of the school’s top students. He carried an energy with him that dared anyone to mess with him or his friends. Although you didn’t see it often, he could make himself scary if he wanted to. All in all, he’s just a gentle giant that made sure everyone turned in their work.
“Absolutely nothing. I don’t know why they keep wasting their time on me.” Jungkook sighed. Hoseok threw a pillow from across the couch, smacking him in the face.
“Yah! Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Hoseok was the human charger. It didn’t matter if someone’s mama died if Hoseok was in the room there would be shenanigans. He was always the one to make some crazy dare that would end up getting them in trouble but they wouldn’t be mad because it was totally worth it. He also had great music taste and almost always was on aux. Hoseok’s vice was coke. Often the driving force behind his hyper nature, it started out as just a thing he did at parties, but slowly creeped into his everyday habits. It hadn’t become a problem yet, he vowed that as soon as he started getting nosebleeds he’d stop, although Jungkook was wary of how difficult that was going to be.
“Where’s Y/N and Yoongi?” Jungkook asked after noticing their usual spots empty.
“They left to get food. They should be coming back soon.” Jin assured him, giving him a comical slap on the thigh. Jin was the eldest, but rarely acted like it. Whenever he wasn’t making stupid dad jokes or eating he spent his time at the classical theater where he worked and sometimes acted. He planned on pursuing acting given his “world wide handsome face.” “It just has to be seen! People around the world need to swoon at my beauty” as he would put it.
No one heard the front door open and shut or noticed Y/N and Yoongi standing in the doorway of the living room.
“Food’s here.” Yoongi finally croaked. Hoseok and Jin yelped and sprung up.
“JESUS! Ever heard of announcing yourselves?! I swear you guys are the exact same person!” Y/N just gave a shrug and plopped onto the large bean bag that she’d claimed.
“Hey, Kooker.” She dragged out.
“Hi Y/N..” His unusual bland reply didn’t go unnoticed by her, but she brushed it off.
“You ready to get shit faced?” A playful grin plastered her otherwise tranquil face. A small smile poked at Jungkooks pursed lips. There was something about her character that always put him in a better mood. She was the one who invited him and Tae into the friend group in the first place, and because of that, he couldn’t be more grateful.
Yoongi tossed him a beer can and his car keys. “Start us off Jungkook.” Yoongi was by far the most terrifying one. It took some time to get to know his true person but there were still times when he still scared the shit out of him. Jungkook remembered when he first met Yoongi. He looked like he’d served time with the seasoned look in his eye that said he’d seen some shit in his day. He hadn’t spoken the entire time the group was talking and Jungkook was beginning to worry that he didn’t like him. It wasn’t til he finally spoke that Jungkook could release the breath he was holding. For someone so stoic and cold looking, he never expected him to have such a low, soft voice. He realized, Yoongi wasn’t scary, he was just quiet like him.
Jungkook took the keys and poked a hole in the bottom of the can. He pressed his lips to it and pulled the tab, sending the amber liquor shooting down his throat. He finished it with ease and crushed the can in his palm while the room cheered and chanted.
The loud music, laughing, and drugs drowned out everything in the outside world. It felt like the world ended and they were the last people left on Earth. Nothing mattered but what was right in front of them. The hours flew by until it came time for everyone to crash. Most of them were still raging drunk or high which only made them fall asleep faster. Jungkook didn’t drink much and he barely smoked. He just couldn’t get in the right headspace to enjoy any of it. So there he was, laying awake among a pile of snoring boys at some ungodly hour of the night. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to read the text in his notifications.
[We All Knew - Labrinth]
Y/N💜: come to my office
He shimmied out from under Taehyung and Jimin and tiptoed out of the room. He followed the smell of weed through the house because where there was weed, there was Y/N. He stepped into the backyard and found her leaning against the wall, blunt between her fingers. The tip of the dark stick swelled into a bright orange when she took a drag. Smoke rolling out of her nose, she held it out for him. He hesitated.
“You're upset. Take it.” Which was a dead-on observation for Y/N, who’s not normally revolving in the same direction as planet Earth. He hesitantly took a puff from it before handing it back. She spread her arms lazily and looked at him with a beckoning stare. He sighed and walked right into her arms that wrapped around his back. She was only older than him by a year, but her old soul and almost motherly demeanor made him look up to her like she was his idol. Sometimes, he forgot he was a whole head taller than her. “Welcome home, Kookie.”
Hers was the only welcome he got that day that brought a genuine smile to his face. She had a way of making him feel welcome and wanted even if she was in a bad mood. She broke the embrace and without a word headed to the old couch by the empty swimming pool. He eventually followed her and flopped down next to her. Another gush of smoke entered the chilly air and it was handed back to him. Feeling better, he took a healthy drag and sighed out the smoke as he sunk further into the couch.
“Was it that obvious?”
“Was what obvious?”
“Me being upset.”
“Not really.” She flicked the ash off the tip of the brown stick, her gaze not breaking from its spacey stare.
“Then how’d you know?”
“Pain recognizes pain.” Y/N wasn’t one for her genius epiphanies, given that nine times out of ten on any given day she was stoned out of her mind. She wasn’t dumb, god no. He wouldn’t doubt that she was smarter than him, but she rarely exercised her ability. As great of a gift that her mind was, it was an even worse curse. An inescapable tomb of her worst fears, thoughts, and intentions, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. So naturally, she tried anything and everything to silence her mind; alcohol, weed, acid, coke, molly, you name it, she’s done it.
Jungkook wasn’t angry or disappointed by the lengths she went. He knew she was just trying to feel better, and to him, that’s all that mattered. He’d take high Y/N over no Y/N at all.
“Y/N?”
“Yep.” There was a silence while he worked up the nerve to speak.
“How…uh….how long have you felt…the way you feel?” She chuckled and let her head fall back against the couch.
“Well I smoked a blunt with Yoongi in the car this morning and then-”
“No, I mean like…w-without drugs.” Her lazy smile didn’t change, but her eyes unfocused and she grew quiet as if lost in a flashback.
“How long do you think I’ve felt this way?” He didn’t anticipate this question.
“Uh…I don’t know…you hide it really well.”
“I couldn’t tell you when it started. I don’t remember much before 7. I’m told I was a happy kid, but it didn’t feel like it at all. All my life I’ve looked around and seen that everyone was so much happier than me, and I’d ask myself, ‘Why can’t I feel like that?’ It wasn’t until I was older that I learned…I was born to suffer. That’s just my place in the world.”
“When did you finally tell anyone?”
“I didn’t. My parents found my razors.” Jungkook always thought he saw scars on her arms and legs, but her milky skin made it hard to tell. It hurt his heart to know that it was true, and that every one of those once caused her pain. The image of her forearms and thighs slick with her blood brewed tears in his eyes.
“They determined they didn’t have the knowledge to help me, so they asked me to take a tour of this mental hospital and think about their suggestion….” She paused to keep her voice from cracking. “I didn’t make it home that day. Never really forgave them after that.”
There was a long silence after that. Jungkook didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Besides, he knew she hated condolences. “What made you start using drugs?” She took a drag of the blunt and thought about it.
“I was 13.” Really? “I found my brothers stash of weed in one of his shoes. I already knew what weed was and what it was used for, so I took about a gram and a rolling paper and taught myself how to roll a joint on my bathroom floor. I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds but when that joint hit, I thought…” She tilted her head to peak at him with an epiphanic smile, “This is it…This is the feeling that I’ve been waiting to feel my entire life. I thought I was sure to get caught and sent to juvie, but I wasn’t. The world went on, and I found a way to live. Now could my lifestyle kill me? Will it kill me? Yeah probably I don’t know, but at least I could’ve had a few years where I wasn’t begging the universe to put me out of my misery.” She paused to take another hit. “People often ask me, ‘Y/N why don’t you try therapy? Drugs aren’t the answer.’ Yeah well, drugs work. Therapy’s a guessing game; you never know if it’s gonna actually help or not and end up wasting your time and money. But when I take that hit, that line, that tab, the world starts to slow…and everything goes quiet…and I feel safe. In my own head. And I can see the world in color again.”
Jungkook watched her blissful face while she was lost in thought. She must’ve been pretty high because this is the most personal she’d ever gotten with him or possibly anyone that wasn’t Yoongi. “Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“W-what if I don’t feel what everyone else feels either..?” He pinched the skin between his fingers to keep his tears at bay, a nervous habit he’d picked up from her. She reached over and took his hand in hers, the webbing between her fingers had white and pink stripes from years of fingernails digging into the flesh.
“Jungkook,” she didn’t use his nickname, “I know how hard it was for you to say that. I want you to know how much I appreciate you telling me, because if anyone knows how you feel, it’s me. You can talk to me whenever, wherever. Even when you think it’s a bad time it’s not, because nothing in that moment is more important to me than you. I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did, so please, even if you don’t want to talk, maybe I can at least keep you company.”
For the rest of the night, Jungkook told her everything. About the pressure, the stress, the desire to collapse and let the world go on without him, his inability to see a future where he was fulfilled. The words often caught in his throat, having never said them out loud before. Y/N didn’t say much, she just wrapped them in a blanket and stroked his hair while she just let him talk. Sometimes, he’d have to stop to cry and she’d hold him a little tighter, wipe his tears away with her thumbs, and wait til he was ready again.
Eventually, he had nothing else to say, his tears dried, and his body stilled.
Babies didn’t sleep that good.
Y/N nodded off a little later but was woken up by a raccoon tipping a trash can. She rested her cheek on his head and tried to go back to sleep, but it never came. She just continued to rest her eyes while playing with Jungkook’s hair and tracing lines along his features.
She didn’t know how long she laid there but soon the birds began their routine morning songs and she was sure she wouldn’t get back to sleep now. The faint tap of shoes on the concrete perked her ears, but she kept her eyes closed. The footsteps stopped behind the couch where she sat. It was quiet before the person chuckled quietly. A warm hand smoothed back the hair in her face and a little kiss was planted on her forehead. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.
“Yoongi, I’m awake you creep.” She cracked her eyes open to see her boyfriend laid over the back of the couch hovering above her, his dark hair tickling her nose. He smirked.
“Well in that case,” he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up before capturing her lips in a playful kiss. When they parted, he glanced down at Jungkooks still sleeping figure. “You guys stay out here all night?”
“Yeah,” she looked down at him and smoothed his hair back, “he just had a few things to get off his chest.” Yoongi almost asked what it was about but her face gave him an idea.
“It’s cold, you want me to take him inside?”
“It won’t wake him up will it?”
“If he’s as out as as he looks, he won’t.” She nodded and Yoongi circled around and slipped his hands under the sleeping boy’s body. Much to Y/N’s pleasant surprise, he lifted him bridal style with ease and she followed him into the house where he placed him next to the other slumbering boys.
When he straightened back up he saw her in the sliding glass door, gazing at the now dusty blue sky. She could feel his body heat on her back against the nippy outside air.
“I always loved the time just before dawn.”
“Why is that?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers.
“It’s so calm and peaceful. And incredibly quiet besides the birds. It’s the only time I feel truly left alone.”
“You want me to show you my favorite time of day?” She turned to him with a curious look. “Follow me.” Not long after, the two were perched on the flat portion of the roof with Yoongi’s bong sitting between them. His angular fingers effortlessly packed the bowl and held it out to her. “All yours.” She took it with a smile.
“What a gentleman~”
Soon, the sky went from a pale blue to pastel shades of orange and pink. He looked over to see her fiddling with a thread on his hoodie she was wearing. “This,” he took her jaw and guided her eyes up for her to see the sunrise, “is my favorite time of day.”
“Why?”
“It gives me hope. Kinda like you.” He was glad she didn’t say anything. She was lost in the color palette of the scene before her, the weed making everything so much more vibrant and striking. He could see the sky reflected in her eyes, making the view ten times better. More time went by and she rested her head on his broad shoulder while they watched the rest of the sunrise.
Back on the ground, Yoongi cleared the bowl and poured out the bong water before setting it on a table by the couch. Y/N was on her back in the center of the empty pool, slowly tearing a leaf above her face and analyzing how it separated cell by cell. He stood on the edge above and watched her do this another four times much to his amusement. “You wanna get breakfast?”
She was out of the pool and in his face before he could finish his sentence. “Like you have to ask.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes before turning and walking to his car. “Hey, Yoongi.”
He turned back.
“Carry me to the car like Jungkook.” He broke into a smirk and walked back to her.
“Yes ma’am.” She let out a yelp when he scooped her off her feet and marched the two of them to his car waiting on the street.
Cover photo: @BIGHITTED on Twitter
#bts#bts fanfic#bts x reader#fanfic#yoongi#yoongi x reader#ot7 x reader#bts fic#yoongi fic#bts angst
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Terraqua Week Day 5 (Mischief)
Summary: Aqua doesn’t have a crush on Terra. She doesn’t. Okay, she does. Or, Terra accidentally walks in on her in the shower. || Word Count: 3,476
Read on AO3
A/N: @terraquaweek I should mention a tiny little warning that there is a reference to nudity in this fic! It’s not described, so it’s totally T-rated but in case that is something you wanted to know. :) This is the shortest fic in the bunch, something cute and fun. The shower scene was a deleted scene in my Terraquanort fic, but I found that it just didn’t fit with the mood at all haha
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
nah.
Accidents don’t often happen to Aqua.
Ha.
Aqua swings her Keyblade upward. The force juggles golden rings assigned for training, usually tied to a pole for a bounce back. The Master mentioned some interesting techniques the other day in class: style changes, or the ability to enhance your power after a string of emotional attacks deep in the heat of battle, when you’re forced to rely on your heart to pull you out of a tough situation. Terra is sure to be developing new tricks, too.
There’s two months left until the Mark of Mastery. Letting the rings loose is a handicap Aqua places on herself: they’re heavy, resisting her magic to bounce in the air. This way, they should mimic what it’d feel like to fight a powerful enemy. She practices her pirouettes, and her waves of magic attempt to buoy them in the air in a violent tornado, but her spell flounders, a small push by a child in a playground. She adds a waltz step, a flip to give it a good kick, but it’s not enough. The rings crash back onto the grass.
Aqua grunts and goes for the kill—but she twists her ankle at the crevice of a rock, landing on her knee.
“Stars,” she curses, wincing. Her knee is scraped, a hole ripped through her stocking, and her ankle aches. Stars. She casts Heal on her knee to soothe the sting and the gentlest summon of Ice to counter the swelling in her ankle. She tries to stand on it but can’t, so she casts more rounds of Heal and Ice spells until her leg can at least bear her weight.
Aqua limps to the castle through the back entrance, where the communal showers are. Showerheads, each with its own white curtain, are built on one side and sinks on the other in a wide open space. It’s part of a long hallway that connects to one of the gyms and a storage room down a corner. The floor is lilac concrete tile and drains, where it gives way to marble when you enter the castle proper.
There was a time when the castle housed enough students to justify the size of this room, but Aqua is grateful she has direct access instead of having to drag this stupid ankle up a tower to her bedroom.
She shrugs off her sweaty, dirt-ridden clothes and shoes, and throws them in one corner, picking a shower that already houses soap, careful to put all her weight on one foot. The curtain draws around her in a u-shape and she turns the hot water knob, the pipes whistling as the water gushes through.
It gently scalds her at first but Aqua sighs when she gets used to it, rolling her shoulders and lifting her elbow over her head to stretch. The heat is good for the muscles. She presses her fingers near her neck, where it’s tight, and massages, then bends down to cast more Heal and Ice spells onto her ankle. Grime and sand flow down her skin, losing saturation as it curls down the drain under her feet. The soap stings when it runs over her scrape.
She can’t keep making mistakes.
Maybe the waltz step was too much and over-complicated things.
Aqua turns the knob off after rinsing her body and listens to the water drip onto the floor. The repetitive sound is hypnotic. She’ll journal her progress when she gets to her room and make comparisons with entries from the last few weeks.
Hopefully, she’s improving at an acceptable speed despite the injury.
Aqua tests her ankle. She can’t flex it. Stars.
What is she missing when it comes to her technique? Does she need better endurance with her pirouettes? Does she have the time to do it right before the Mark of Mastery?
When she realizes that she needs a towel to dry off—and there’s no towel in sight—she realizes that she’s been standing there wasting the time away. The shower is the greatest and the worst place to think.
Aqua figures she could grab a towel from the storage room nearby without anyone noticing.
She opens the curtain.
Terra is standing right there, eyes as round as oranges with a heavy bag of fertilizer in his arms. He drops it. Aqua shuts the curtain with a screech.
“I’m sorry!” she hears him yell. Through the bottom of the curtain, she sees him scalping for excess that spilled over. Whatever hits the floor is mixing into the water, making mud. He’s barefoot.
“Terra, what the stars—?” she hisses, covering herself despite the curtain (a single piece of thin fabric).
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were in here!”
“How is that possible?”
“Why are you standing here doing nothing?”
“Just—Terra—” She groans loudly.
There is a pause as he walks backwards. “I-I didn’t see anything.”
“Get out of here.”
His footsteps slap across the floor, a subtle splash and the smack against the tile. Aqua peeks through the curtain when it’s quiet. She’s alone with a sequence of mud heading into the castle. Aqua grabs her clothes, slipping the bare minimum on despite its filth, and treks down the hall, purposefully taking opposite directions from his trail.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Their designated table in the library is always littered with books, damaged ones exchanged for the unread when the assignment deems it. There’s an extra stack for Ven since he’s a couple of years behind.
Aqua (carefully) enters the library (ignoring the throbbing—it will heal quickly, she tells herself). She’s cleanly dressed and re-bathed, and takes a seat at the desk while Terra and Ven babble about the nonsense of a textbook they both hate.
Terra gives her a quick, panicked glance before turning away from her and staring hard at the book in front of him.
Ven notices. “Aqua, are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, just a sprain,” she says, suddenly clenched in the throat. What happened in the shower was nothing. No big deal. Sometimes best friends see things. So why is she, too, bordering on panic? Heat builds in her cheeks, so much that it hurts. Aqua tilts her head at an angle so her hair covers her face.
“What’s with you two?” Ven asks and Aqua flinches.
“Nothing, Ven,” Terra says too sternly. He bites his lip and stands too quickly. “A Heal spell isn’t enough for a sprain, what were you thinking?” he asks her without looking at her. He clears his throat loud enough to make Ven recoil, trying his best to hide how shaky his voice has become. “Excuse me,” Terra says before shuffling his feet like he’s holding his pee and disappearing.
When it’s quiet, Ven leans forward to get into Aqua’s personal space. “Okay, I know something’s up. What’s going on?” He squints. “Why is your face all red?”
“N-no reason.” Aqua opens a book. If she digs her entire face into it, it will look like she’s hiding on purpose. She lowers her chin (casually) to pretend she’s reading.
“You’re a liar.”
Aqua slams the book back down. “I do not lie, Ven.”
“Sure, you’re the definition of perfect. But you’re lying to me now.”
Aqua doesn’t know what to do. Her record is spotless. She’s a good student and a good person. She’s only ever told small, harmless white lies, about being tired when she doesn’t feel like it, or saying she isn’t hungry when she is so they don’t catch her sneaking in a brownie. But not this.
“I’m not,” she says in the most unconvincing way.
“Fine, I’ll bug Terra about it—”
“There was,” Aqua says, her voice uneven (damn the stars), “an accident.”
Ven raises a skeptical brow. “And? How bad could that be?”
Aqua huffs and crosses her arms. It’s just Ven. Her other best friend, no judgment here. “Terra surprised me.”
Ven rolls his eyes.
“In the communal shower.”
He points and laughs at her, dropping his head in a fit and slamming a fist onto the surface of the table. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he says in between gasps. “Oh, he must be suffering right now.”
Terra returns, more relaxed, carrying a wooden bowl and bandages. Still, he avoids looking Aqua in the eye.
“So…” Ven says with an obnoxious knowing to his voice and Aqua regrets everything. “Did you enjoy the view?”
Terra stares at her first, his brown skin pale. He glares at Ven with the ferocity of homicide.
Ven bursts into another shake of laughter. “Stars, don’t tell me. You’re blushing so hard.”
At that, Aqua looks away. The thought is embarrassing and a… relief? At the same time?
Terra doesn’t honor Ven with a reply. He trembles, forming a claw with his hand. When he waves it, the bookshelves shake. Several books zoom out and flap, hovering over Ven and hitting him on the head like crows on the attack.
“Wait, stop, how are you doing this?” Ven shields his head with his arms, but Terra is bent on murder. Ven summons his Keyblade and cuts straight through the spine of a book. “Okay, okay, I get it!” The books glide close, ready to torpedo if necessary. Terra refuses to say anything. Ven steps away from the table, on guard. Then he smirks. He sticks his tongue out and bolts out the door. “Maybe that means you guys will finally kiss!” he yells down the hall.
Kiss.
A word as loud as a volcano erupting.
Terra lets go of his magic and all the books drop to the floor, yet the crash is still quieter than Kiss, quieter than how hard her heart is drumming in her chest.
Without a word, Terra picks up the bowl with both of his hands and mumbles a short-lived Fire spell. It’s obvious that she’s to remove her sock and give her ankle to him. That’s the point, a turmeric and olive oil mix, gently heated to reduce inflammation. He doesn’t need to ask.
Aqua lifts her leg to remove her stocking.
Terra flinches and dramatically averts his eyes.
“It’s just a sock, Terra.”
Terra motions to look at her as a response, but stops himself. “You shouldn’t be walking on it,” he bites.
“Call me stubborn.”
“You’re stubborn.”
She fights the impulse to slap him on the back of the head. “Here.” She offers her naked leg to him.
Terra still won’t look at her, but digs two of his fingers into the mix and holds her calf with his other hand. He almost draws back from her skin. Stars, he is blushing. She is too, she can feel it, a boil in both of her cheeks, a flame building in her stomach. His fingers are warm and strong, a caress on her skin. She likes this. She has all the capability to do this herself but she doesn’t want to.
Shit.
Aqua crosses one arm over and brings her hand to her chest—her way of looking dignified as Terra rubs the solution over her ankle. She has been appreciating how broad his shoulders have gotten, how sharp his jawline is, how tall he’s grown. All things that most people would notice, surely. He’s beautiful, he’s always been.
He opens his mouth to say something.
Aqua panics. “If you dare make a comment—”
“You’ll kick me?” Terra lifts her leg higher out of spite and nearly pulls her off the chair. He takes the bandage and starts to wrap.
Aqua stammers. How are they going to get through this?
“It was an accident, Terra.”
He freezes as though he can’t decide if he should finish the job or drop her leg. After a pause, he pitches his voice into a high octave to mimic her (badly). “Oh please, Terra, they’re just breasts. Nothing major.”
“You said—” she squeaks and covers her mouth. She shouldn’t be so naive. The heat in her cheeks bake.
That’s fine. Best friends know lots of intimate things, especially with how long Terra and Aqua have been together. Some of her guts, though, are about to choke her esophagus. She hopes that doesn’t mean she wanted him to see anything. That she’d want him to enjoy it.
Shit.
Terra trembles in nervous laughter, soft and quiet, staring holes into her ankle as he knots the bandage. He’s blinking too much. “You’ll need to compress cold rice on it every now and then,” he says, suddenly serious. “And rest,” he stresses like it’s a curse word.
“Terra?”
He hesitates. “Yeah?”
Footsteps approach them from behind, too graceful to be Ven’s. Terra scrambles to pick up the books, choosing the sliced one first to slip into the bookshelf so the Master doesn’t notice. Aqua straightens herself out and slips on her shoe.
“Would someone mind explaining to me the mess in the communal showers?” the Master asks as he enters, before eyeing the mess in the library. He braces his hips with his fists. “What on earth are two concoting here?”
Her cheeks burn harder.
“Not much, sir,” Terra says, gathering a tall stack of books under his chin. “Pranking Ven. The usual.”
The tone of his voice is too suspicious and the Master knows them too well.
“Aqua,” the Master says, “you sustained an injury.”
All she can come up with is, “Not in the prank, sir.”
“So the mud—?”
“In the shower,” Terra says quickly, without thinking. Overcompensating for the awkwardness. He bites his lip. “I mean, she slipped when she was showering.”
“He only knows because I told him,” Aqua says and she wants to slap herself. Of course that’s how Terra would find out in any normal story. Spelling it out makes it seem like he witnessed it himself. Terra glares her a new one.
Eraqus reads her with skepticism. He folds his hands behind his back and clears his throat. “Terra, you remember the discussion we’ve had some years ago regarding certain curiosities—”
“Yes, Master.” Terra inhales sharply and coughs.
The Master smiles. He looks pleased with himself. “You may continue to clear this up. And if you would please, keep the mischief at a minimum. It would be a great distraction from your work.”
Terra grits his teeth and Aqua lowers her eyes. “Yes, Master,” they both say slowly, like they’re about to step on hot coal.
When the Master leaves, Terra drops books onto the table. He’s finally looking at her, his eyes such a striking depth. It suddenly melts her away. Why so sudden though? He’s always had dark eyes.
Oh. She’s taken him for granted. Now she sees.
“What was that?” he whispers.
Aqua scoffs. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
He shakes his head. “I never want to have that kind of conversation with the Master ever again.”
“At least let me help you,” Aqua says, nodding over to the last gathering of books on the floor.
“I’m not letting you stand on that foot.” He bends over to do the work himself.
“Then I’ll help you clean out the mud.”
Terra puts away the last handful of books, and chuckles to himself. “How do you want to get there? Crutches?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, I either carry you in my arms or I fling you over my shoulder.”
Aqua needs to find a spell to hide the blushing. It aches. “What an obnoxious suggestion.”
“Then I’ll leave you here in the library.”
“No.”
Terra snorts. “Okay.” He hooks an arm under her knees and lifts the rest of her body like she’s a hollow ragdoll. So close to him, Aqua can feel the grooves of his muscle, his chest durable and broad. She wonders if he enjoys holding her this close, too.
“I am really sorry,” he says as he takes her back towards the showers, passing by the open entrance to that gym, padded for wrestling. It’s not one they use often, since most of their training happens towards the front entrance. “I was on my way to take care of the squash. It was a dumb accident.”
“It’s okay,” Aqua says. She’s resting her head on his shoulder, staring at the way his neck moves when he speaks. Here, they don’t have to look at each other. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Yeah.” He sounds almost disappointed, if not relieved. “Glad we sorted that out, right?”
“Definitely.” She wraps her arms around his neck tighter.
“What were you doing?”
“Pushing myself too hard.” Aqua scoffs.
“Typical Aqua.”
At the way he says that—mock-cocky, snivelish, playful—she blushes. He hasn’t changed since they were little, but it’s a side to him that only she and Ven sees.
There’s a lot to him that he only shows her.
They reach the storage room where the mop and towels would be stored, but he doesn’t enter. “We really need to install a door here,” he says. They reach the communal showers, and he bypasses them too. Terra finally settles her down on the terrace outside.
“Stay here, I’ll be back.”
“No, wait, I’m helping you—”
“Not with that foot, you’re nuts.”
“You can’t stop me from crawling back inside.”
“Then I’ll drag you back out.” He smirks, almost like he’s his old self but not quite. His old self isn’t this adamant. It makes her think that there’s something he isn’t saying, that maybe she’s misreading him, stuck between doing his duty to help her and needing time away from her. That he’s hiding it all behind a joke, and she has to let him go.
“Okay.” She crosses her arms.
“Rest isn’t terrible for you,” he says as he walks away.
Aqua stares at dry dirt. Down this path are the flower and vegetable gardens, contained by a fence. Beyond is the trail that leads right to the spot where she started this ridiculous ordeal. If only she didn’t trip. She’s been training for years. She’s too skilled to be having accidents, too far in her studies to think this hard about her feelings for Terra.
Too far in her studies and too mature to keep denying that she wants him to look at her. She does.
She gets tapped on the head.
“Wait here,” Terra says, heading towards the gardens, barely giving her a glance.
Aqua anchors her elbows onto her thighs and drops her chin into her hands. A sudden thought invades her mind: he’ll come back from whatever chore he has to finish here, take her to her room, and now that everything is said and done, they’ll pretend like none of this has happened.
And that is that. A weird day finished, a blip in history.
Terra comes back into view faster than she anticipated, holding a bouquet of orange and blue flowers in his hand.
Aqua uses the wall to pull herself up, keeping most of her weight on the good foot. “What’s this?”
Terra opens his mouth to speak, and leaves it there. He licks his lips and offers the flowers. “Um…” He scoffs. “I’m bad at this.”
They smell nice. Roses and bluestars. They must be his way to apologize. “They’re beautiful.”
“Um…” He clears his throat, rubbing something raw at the back of his neck. “Would you like to, uh…” He glances at the ground beneath him, summoning the courage to look at her and speak clearly, overusing his hands to demonstrate. “There’s actually a really pretty cave nearby, full of crystals and minerals. It’s spectacular, and I’ve always wanted to take you to see it.” He blushes, swallowing. “Um, when you feel better, would you like to come see it with me? Spend the night, I mean?” He blushes harder, scoffing. “It’s a nice hike and it’s a great camping spot.”
Aqua squeezes the stems of the flowers and her heart hammers too hard to find her voice. “That sounds…” She exhales. “Nice.” She almost asks for permission—from who, she doesn’t know. Terra is asking her. She’s asking herself. “Yes, I’d love to.” She hopes to the stars she’s blushing less than him.
Terra has no answer except for a nervous giggle, his eyes gleaming. He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek, whipping himself back with a hand to his face like he’s committed the worst sin in the world.
It’s warm where he left his lips. Aqua touches it with her fingers.
Embarrassed laughter sputters out of Terra’s mouth with many unnecessary apologies.
Aqua smiles, and it comforts him. “Can you take me back inside?” she asks, that smile twisting her cheeks. It hurts so good.
“Sure,” he breathes. “Anywhere you want.”
They exchange rogue giggles and excited glances as he carries her. They talk as if nothing indeed has happened, where they avoid any mention of mischief to be had in the near future, at least for now. Maybe the stars threw her off balance this morning on purpose. Best friends. They’ve always been.
#terraqua#aqua#terra#ventus#kingdom hearts fanfiction#lmao omg#this cute little one is finally out#i hope you like it!#my fic
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sorry if this is a loaded question, ofc you don’t need to answer! what’s your take on the argument that dark content is harmful to reality, and that it romanticises traumas? personally i like reading some dc, but when i see posts about how it’s harmful to both survivors and readers (smth to do with psychologically normalising it) it kinda makes me feel guilty, like i’m doing something wrong? when i know i can distinguish between fiction and reality?
hey! so i’m going to keep this under a read more to avoid upsetting anyone - also because this is literally - and i mean, literally - an essay LMAO. i had a lot to say!
any anon hate will be deleted and blocked, but you’re free to engage me off anon (and kindly on anon) if you want to! anon, you’re also free to come chat with me in dms if you want to speak more freely about this :)
warning for rape mentions, murder / mass murder mentions, dub / noncon mentions.
so, i want to preface this by saying that i don’t think that anyone is obligated to like or be comfortable with dark content. it truly is your prerogative not to be interested in it and you are valid if it makes you feel uncomfortable. so nothing i’m saying here is to convince people that anyone should like it or is wrong for not liking it.
but i don’t agree with the argument that people should be shamed for liking or writing it, that it romanticizes trauma, etc. i understand why people feel that way 100%, but i don’t agree.
sometimes, it feels arbitrary. “dark content” has become a pseudonym for dub/non-con fic, but is the the only type of dark content there is? dark stories can include murder, horror, gore, etc. yet, despite us knowing that murder (for example) is a crime and morally wrong, most people don’t bat an eye when a chara in a fic does it and is still protrayed as attractive or is the reader’s lover. we go crazy for mafia aus where characters kill and show power --- we love those characters, those scenes where they kill and go take their lover all covered in blood. i mean, even in the jjk fandom, one of the most popular characters is a cursed spirit whose first words in the series are about massacring women and children. and we love him. more than that, we love the gory, arguably dark world he comes from - we hypothesize about these characters, we sympathize with them, and we lust over them.
so it’s hard to reconcile that with telling fans who write dub/noncon that they are impacting people’s sense of reality. we’re all experiencing this series together - if written fan fiction is what desensitizes morality, what about the images from the anime and manga? would we make the same argument for banning it? would we say that the people who like sukuna are romanticizing mass violence or that gege is normalizing it for us psychologically by making the character who does it hot and engaging or showing/referencing it so much in the manga?
i just don’t think we would. i think we all understand that those things are wrong and like him knowing that, and can readily say he’s a villain or that the things we’re seeing is wrong. so, i don’t think there’s a black-and-white argument that seeing x in media will make you think y is a-okay or make you more comfortable with it in real life.
i do get that there’s a difference here: a big part of this argument is the sexual aspect of non/dubcon - it’s hard to feel like it’s not normalizing rape when people find a scenario like that hot (whereas no one is like...lewding a mass murder scene, haha). but i think that, at the end of the day, brains do what brains do and people just have dark fantasies. like it’s really as simple as that. rape fantasies in particular are common and talked about by psychologists all the time and i have never been able to find a common thread of them condemning people having them or even writing about them. what they DO talk about is the fact that consent is actually key to the fantasy - that the person fantasizing is the person controlling the situation, that the fantasy, despite being “dub/noncon”, is inherently exactly what they want because THEY are creating the situation, and that, in the end, it’s the absence of actual danger that makes it. ultimately: there is a difference between real life rape and an imagined fantasy or roleplay. so much so that it might not even be fair to call them “rape” fantasies at all.
“It’s crucial to recognize that real-life rape is anything but erotic for a woman. Being at the mercy of someone who’s so outrageously violating your will, holding you down, threatening you with bodily harm (or even death), and physically forcing himself upon you induces arousal all right. But not that of sexuality, but of utterly petrifying anxiety and panic. Contrast this to most imagined rape scenes, which are so electrifying precisely because they’re expressly designed by their female creator to stimulate the illusion of danger—which can, in fact, be positively arousing.”
> from this article.
to me, this is ultimately what dub/noncon fic is. people writing out those fantasies for people who share those fantasies to process those fantasies.
you can make the argument that that it’s harmful to survivors, but that has its own issues when doctors have reported that some survivors have rape fantasies or find comfort in acting out those rape fantasies (and writing, in my opinion, is a form of acting that out). like are they not valid victims because they are contextualizing their trauma into something that they can control and can process on their own terms? i think the issue there is that the argument uses survivors as a monolith to make an argument on their behalf; but every individual survivor is valid in what they think about this because no two survivors process what happened to them in the same way.
i myself am a survivor and have no real issue with dark content (obviously). i don’t read it often and only write it now because of sukuna; but when i do read it, i draw the line at certain things because i personally cannot stomach it. but would i demand that person delete it from existence because of that? no, i wouldn’t. because again, at the end of the day, that’s the entire basis of the fantasy. i control what i’m fantasizing about, and if something that i do not want to happen to “me” as the reader occurs, i do not read it. i don’t consent to that experience or that fantasy, so i stay away. but at the same time, that other person’s fantasy isn’t mine to control or infringe on and it doesn’t make me a better person than them for not sharing the fantasy.
SO ALL OF THIS TO SAAAY: i don’t think you should feel bad for enjoying dark content. i don’t think the argument about whether or not you’ll know how wrong it is in real life anymore really applies because you could make the claim that any type of fiction runs the risk of distorting people’s perception of reality and making them desensitized to something. and i don’t think that’s what people’s struggle with this is.
what it boils down to, to me, is that people can’t understand why anyone would find dub/noncon arousing, and think that they condone rape because of it. which, again, is understandable. rape is a horrible fucking thing to experience - it isn’t sexy, it isn’t hot, it isn’t arousing and it’s hard to see any nuance when you see “noncon” and “wow this was so hot” in one post. but based on the way psychologists talk about “rape” fantasies, i think the two things (the fantasy and the real life act of violence) can typically be distinct for people, even survivors, and it just comes down to whether or not it’s a fantasy you share. if you don’t, completely your right! block the tags, block the writers, do whatever you have to do to protect your peace and your limits! but the discourse about it always seems to go into the realm of shame or arguments about someone’s moral compass, which i think is unfair.
hopefully this helps and wasn't an annoying thing to read! like i said, don’t mind talking about it more if need be!
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I didn’t think I’d be doing this, but it’s gotten to the point where some things have to be said.
Someone from my past has been making vagueposts about me lately and I can’t allow it to go unaddressed any longer. They are disingenuous and at times downright false, and they imply a certain type of relationship that simply did not exist.
If at this point you don’t know exactly who and what I’m talking about, please scroll by. I’m not going to be mentioning her by name and I’m not here to drag additional people into this big mess. This is solely to address any misconceptions for those who have already seen this person’s posts and are left confused by the strange phrasing and missing information.
(TW: harassment, emotional abuse, stalking, vomit)
This person and I met online in the spring of last year. Soon after, she confessed to me that she had a crush on me. I wasn’t interested for a variety of reasons (distance, not knowing her very well, and a lack of attraction on my end) and I gently let her down but suggested that we could still be friends. At no point did I promise a romantic relationship with this person.
We got to know each other better as friends. For a while, it was genuinely fun. I did not harbor any romantic feelings but I did enjoy being her friend. But in the summer, we began to spend more time together, and that’s where it started to go wrong. In reality, it was gradual, but it felt very sudden because the realization that things had changed came all at once. Her flirting had become a lot more aggressive and she was implying to other people that there was something between us. Playful teasing had turned to something far more demanding, and we were talking to each other nonstop, up to 10 hours per day every single day. When I realized how drastically our interactions had changed, I tried to pull back. I became very uncomfortable with how much couple-like behavior had emerged on her side when I did not want to be in that kind of relationship.
My decision was met with a lot of resistance. She was upset at me that I wanted to cut back on the amount of one-on-one time spent together, and she also was upset when I took a week-long break from Discord as a whole. We had our first argument over this. I thought we reached an understanding, but at the end of the conversion, she expressed her need for significant quality time between us, leaving me feeling like I hadn’t been heard at all. It’s worth noting that I hadn’t cut her out entirely at this point. We were still talking almost every day, but we weren’t on voice chat for hours on end any longer. I just wanted interactions that were closer to a normal friendship rather than a romantic relationship that I had never consented to.
It got worse leading into fall. The flirting continued and escalated. She drew “friendship portraits” of the two of us with strong romantic undertones. As she continued to push, I drew back. She didn’t like this. I was met with passive aggression when I tried to set boundaries and put a comfortable distance between us.
September is where it reached a head. On September 17th, she coerced me into a video chat that essentially served as an intervention for my choice. I had a bad feeling going into it, but she insisted that we video chat rather than text chat. I reluctantly agreed under her false pretense that it would be a conversation solely about fandom matters, but within 5 minutes, she was crying on video. I became very uncomfortable and I continued to look at a document on my computer so she could compose herself. She calmed down, but as soon as I claimed to be done looking at it, she turned the crying on again.
For about an hour, I was berated. She was crying and yelling, not allowing me to get a word in edgewise. She was, once again, very upset with me that I had been pulling away from her. I desperately wanted to leave the call, but I knew that there’d be hell to pay later if I did. I forced myself to sit through the whole thing. When she was done, I was shaking. She expected me to speak but I was unable to form words for several minutes and I was additionally berated for not saying anything, even though I had already been cut off many times. When I was able to pull myself out of the state I was in, I told her that our interactions had become far too romantically-focused for my comfort and that I didn’t want her to flirt with me anymore. I then ended the conversation as quickly as I could.
I vomited several times after we hung up and was shaking for hours. I couldn’t sleep that night. A few days later, I lost clumps of hair. It is stress-induced alopecia areata that I’m still receiving treatment for. I don’t say any of this to garner sympathy, but I want to emphasize that this was not a conversation that I look back on fondly. It was traumatic. This unfortunately is relevant later.
At this point, it is safe to say that I did not want to associate with this person any longer, but this was not an option for me. There were fandom commitments that tethered us together, and I knew I’d have to weather out the storm. If I didn’t, I would tear friend groups apart, drop commitments that I cared a lot about, and potentially ruin both of our reputations in the community.
I tried to maintain some distance without angering her significantly, but it was all downhill from here. She continued to disrespect my boundaries and push me romantically. Flirting occurred less commonly in private chats since I would shut it down, but in public spaces, she continued to flirt with me, and I felt pressured to allow it in order to avoid awkwardness in group settings.
Her romantic interest turned into obsession. She became fixated on my Tumblr posts and Discord statuses, accusing me of referencing her when this was seldom the case. Jealousy arose about my friendships with other people. She didn’t trust me to make my own decisions with my friendships and disrespected my decisions when I made them. There was also a huge increase in emotional manipulation and guiltbaiting. Whenever calm and rational criticism of her behavior was given to her, she would exaggerate and call herself a terrible person so that the criticism would be dropped in favor of coddling and comforting her. It was impossible to bring up serious issues without her playing the victim.
She also became increasingly hard to deal with in a team environment. I often felt as if I was being disciplined for not loving her in return. My ideas were constantly nitpicked and shot down. I was condescended to. I began to feel unwelcome in group spaces because of these behaviors. I felt like she was pushing me out of public spaces in hopes that I would flee to private ones, though I tried to avoid that as much as possible.
In November, a flip switched. The romantic harassment almost entirely vanished and all her interactions with me became unkind. In some ways, it was refreshing because the worst of the stalking subsided, but the hostile environment was not easy to deal with. I retreated from fandom in order to avoid it as much as possible.
Finally in December, my fandom commitments finally ended, giving me the ability to end my friendship with her. Right before this, she spoke negatively of me in some public ways. One of these actions I cannot name here because it would reveal her identity, but it spoke ill of a community that I oversee.
The worst, however, was a fanfic that she published several days before I cut her off. She projected her and I onto the main couple of the fic. I was cast as Gabriel and she was cast as Nathalie. The further I read, the more sickened I became as the references became more overt.
Near the end of the fic, Gabriel and Nathalie have a huge argument. I was shocked to find exact quotes from our September 17th video chat in the dialogue of the fic. They were large sections of our conversation. At the end of their argument, Gabriel admitted all wrong and they make amends. As a couple.
I felt ill reading this. I still feel ill thinking about it. I hate that one of the most traumatic conversations in my life still exists on the internet for anyone to read, twisted into a scene that is meant to be read as good and romantic. I am reminded of all the harassment that I endured and I hate that that is a feeling I now associate with one of my favorite ships. There are other creators involved as well whose work has now been tainted by these real-world associations that had no business being in a fanfic.
After this, I cut her out of my life entirely. I was considering less drastic options, but this was the last straw that I knew we could not come back from. I removed her from several of my social circles and blocked her on all social media.
Before I blocked her, I sent a letter explaining in explicit detail why I would be cutting her out of my life. Despite this, she has recently claimed that she was never given a reason.
And that’s where we are now. My life has been more peaceful since December and I have begun to come out of my shell. For a couple of months she left the situation alone and that was fine with me. I was happy to peacefully coexist as long as I wasn’t having to interact directly.
However, my friends began calling my attention to recent posts on her blog that implied I had destroyed her mental health. Some of them have since been deleted. While I was willing to let the first one slide, these posts have increased in frequency while pushing an increasingly false narrative. I don’t enjoy the implications that I did something horrible to her by not consenting to a relationship.
I’m sure she will disagree with my take on things, and that’s fine. If she disagrees with my reasons with cutting her off, that is her prerogative, but I cannot allow her to claim that I didn’t give any reasoning when she did receive it through multiple channels of communication.
And I hope I haven’t gone a step too far in revealing that this person was in love with me. I debated not including it, but I’ve realized it’s an unavoidable issue that is central to the entire situation. At the root of it, I was romantically pursued and harassed. I cannot defend my reasons for cutting her off without disclosing the base motivation for the majority of her actions.
So that’s my story. I’d ask those who read this to please refrain from engaging in any harassment. This post has not been made with the intention to hurt her, as can be evidenced from months of me holding my tongue. I really did try to let her preserve her dignity, but I was left with no other options after being smeared multiple times. My purpose here is transparency.
I genuinely do wish her well, for both our sakes. I really hope that this will finally end her obsession and allow her to move on. But whatever happens, I refuse to be a doormat any longer in this situation.
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Nago & the Demon ~ Pilot (Prologue)
Seeking revenge for the destruction of her village as a child, Nago seeks to resurrect a powerful demon who once served as the right hand of Aku...
Characters: Nago (oc)
Universe: Samurai Jack
I’ve opted to only include disclaimers for obvious triggers (unless otherwise requested), so just be aware that this fic is for an adult or *mature* teen audience, because of occasional scenes of heavy violence and, I dunno, language? Really nothing major to worry about in this chapter. This chapter is fine for a PG-13 audience.
(this is a reupload because tumblr appears to have eaten the original posts. or maybe I deleted them, it’s been so long I can’t remember)
Word count: 1,560
Plat. Plat. Plat.
Black rubber boots squelched in the mud brought on by the onslaught of heavy rain that had begun over two hours ago. No doubt the road back would be flooded...but she could wait it out. What she had been promised could be found here would be more than worth such a wait.
Digging into her poncho, she retrieved a scrap of paper with a haphazardly drawn portrait of a house on one side. She held it up to the house atop the hill before her. The details matched. There was no doubt in her mind – this was the place. Returning the scrap of paper to the protection of her poncho's interior, she plodded ahead through the thick mud until she reached the home's front door. There, she knocked three times. For a moment, there was no sound but the pouring of rain around her. Then, a security camera built into the door whirred to life, and the voice of the home's occupant spoke up.
"What'dy'a want?"
She kept her head down, avoiding looking directly into the camera. "I heard I might be able to find some...oddities here." She said calmly. "You see, I'm in the market for something very rare, and my quest has led me here."
"...Well, that depends on who you are, what you're looking for, and most importantly—who you serve." The occupant replied. "So, how 'bout you give me some answers before I tell you what I've got here."
"Very well." She glanced into the camera, revealing her face to be covered by a white mask bearing the expression of a winking cat. "For reasons I'm sure someone like yourself could understand, I do not often reveal my face to those I've only just met. I am called Nago. And I have come searching for the genuine remains of a demon. I serve no one but the innocent harmed by that black-hearted devil, Aku."
"...Heheh..." The occupant of the house chuckled slightly. "Well, then, little lady, c'mon in." She heard the door unlatch. "Any enemy of Aku is a friend of mine."
She twisted the knob and pushed the door open, and wasted no time in stepping inside, shutting the door to keep out the rain. The house's interior was filled with oddities of most imaginable shapes and sizes. Artifacts from cultures now long dead, taxidermied creatures she had never seen alive, and a wide assortment of bones. She had come for remains, but at a glance, none of the bones appeared to have ever belonged to a demon.
Standing at the counter at the far wall was a large, well-muscled man with a full dark beard. She noted that he was wearing an eyepatch, and wondered briefly if Aku's forces had taken half of his sight as well. His bad eye was opposite to her own, a coincidence that might have been mildly funny, had it not been so unfortunate. "Well don't just stand there. You said you were looking for demon parts, right? Luckily for you, I think I've got just what you're looking for!" He turned around as Nago approached the counter, and moments later, placed a dusty glass box onto the counter—inside of it, was a severed hand.
Nago froze, her gaze fixated solely on the strange artifact. It was as black as coal, and it's fingers were long, slender, and claw-like. It called to her mind the image of Aku himself...she wondered what sort of body the hand had been connected to in life. At the end of its wrist, its internal flesh was an almost pretty shade of light blue. Nago smiled slightly, an involuntary reaction to the thought of a powerful and likely well-respected demon within Aku's ranks being quite literally blue-blooded. At times, life could be...fitting like that.
She finally broke her gaze from its focus on the hand, and looked to the seller. "...There is no doubt in my mind that this is the severed hand of a demon. Where did you get this?" She inquired.
It didn't take long for the man to begin spinning Nago quite a yarn. "The bastard this hand belonged to put me and several thousand others through a special kind of hell. It was decades ago that he got the better of me when my friends and I tried to launch an attack on those blasted beetle drones." The man closed his eyes for a moment, seeming contemplative. "He appeared out of nowhere, and before we knew it, we were swarmed not with beetle drones, but with ghostly warriors! We fought them for as long as we could..." He bowed his head slightly. "...But we couldn't win. Every time we destroyed one of the warriors, they would just come right back! It was endless...my friends were eventually killed in the struggle...until only I was left. Only then did the monster's army stop. I thought he'd finish me off...but instead, he had his soldiers hold me in place while he appeared behind me and sank his teeth into my neck! After that...everything went black." He paused, then shook his head before resuming his tale. "No, it wasn't black...it was blue, just like the still bloody flesh inside that arm. There I was, in the belly of the beast—literally! He'd consumed my very soul and trapped it within some sort of internal prison. There were thousands more like me as far as my eyes could see, all of us kept prisoner by rings of unbreakable flame. I don't know how long I spent in there, or how many fellow warriors I was forced to destroy whenever I was summoned...all I know is that one day, the target was the Samurai himself. I tell ya, miss...every legend you've heard about that man is the utmost truth. He did what no other warrior had ever accomplished...he freed us." The man began to smile in a manner that seemed almost wistful. "Course, after we were freed, the demon was rendered powerless...and us, well...we had a score to settle, all 3,999 of us. I think you can guess what we did." He gestured to the severed hand.
It was then that Nago noticed its claw-like fingers were frozen in a sort of permanent flinch, the fingers curled towards the floor of the case, as though it had been removed while its owner clawed desperately at the ground. She grimaced a bit, unable to keep from imagining the full extent of the demon's fate. Though, from the sound of the man's tale, the bastard had certainly deserved whatever he'd gotten. "...I'm sorry, but for my purposes I need more remains than a mere hand. Is this hand all that remains of the demon?" She thought to ask.
"Ah, then you're in luck. Far as I know, I was the only one who chose to keep a trophy of him." The man replied. "I got crushed bone and a bottle of blood in the back, but I haven't figured out what to do with them. I figured there had to be some sort of ritual that required those things, but so far no one's offered to take 'em off my hands." He smiled wryly. "I take it you might, though. One moment, I'll bring them in from the back." He turned and vanished through a doorway directly behind him.
Nago, in the meantime, continued to look at the hand. To think of such an artifact belonging to a demon who had served Aku for so many years...she could have rejoiced. 15 long years, and her grand scheme was finally coming to fruition. With the hand, ground bones, and blood, she would have everything the ritual called for.
The man at last returned from the back room, carrying a tied bag in one hand and a wine bottle in the other. He placed both upon the counter, neatly framing the hand on both sides. Upon closer inspection, the liquid inside the bottle was the same hue as the flesh inside the hand's severed wrist. "There. Genuine demon bone powder and equally genuine demon blood." The man announced. "Tell ya what...if they don't work in whatever ritual you're planning, bring 'em back to me for a fu—" He paused, and scowled slightly. "I mean, half a refund."
Nago arched a brow behind her mask, but relented. "So be it. For what I seek, no price could be too great." She retrieved a jingling bag from her poncho, placing it into the outstretched hands of the seller. "But I trust 15,000 is enough?"
The man beamed. "You're damn right it is!" She'd managed to make him quite cheerful with this generous donation. He paused though, and narrowed his eye at her. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, lady, but...what exactly do you plan to do with those parts?"
Nago paused for a moment...and then, she removed her mask. Staring back at the man was a sightless gray eye beside a darker one blazing with fury. "...I'm going to make the monster who slaughtered my people regret ever coming to this planet." It was a simple response...but it would tell the man everything he might have wanted to know.
The man stared for a moment, before he, too, lifted his eyepatch, revealing a milky eye much like her own. "Give him hell for me, then."
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@bittybonbon So this isn’t QUITE what you prompted, but the original thing I wrote got deleted T W I C E so I’m gonna just. Assume that idea is cursed and write this instead. This is actually a scene I was thinking of putting in future fics (I swear I won’t just be leaving that Laufey fic at one chapter), but for funsies I’m gonna write it from Kratos’s perspective instead of Faye’s. Hope you like it!
He wasn’t sure what the burrowing creatures were called, and he didn’t care to know. He only knew that they were irritanting, and he wasn’t keen on engaging them. He might have walked away had they been attacking an animal, but…
No, that was no animal. He recognized the hair immediately. It was the woman from before, the one who had nearly put an arrow in him. He couldn’t remember her name, but between the hair and the axe…no, that was definitely her.
That was her, and she was in trouble. She was doing a valiant job holding her own, but the creatures were quick, and there was more than one, and it looked as if she were injured already. Had it been anyone else, he might have considered walking away, or perhaps waiting until he was sure they would not be able to hold their own, but…
She had been kind to him. She’d had no reason to be, but she had. And the memory of that overrode his self-preservation and his desire to avoid more violence.
By the time he reached her, she had managed to kill one, and was engaged with a second. The third one was starting to burrow into the ground, likely trying to flank her. This was the one Kratos rushed to, grabbing it by the tail and dragging it free of its tunnel.
A few good slams. That was all it took. A part of him felt sick at the sound, but he could at least say he stopped when he heard its skull crack. No more force than necessary.
“Look out!”
Kratos turned around in time to see the one the woman had been engaged with leaping for him. He was barely able to throw it back, allowing her to throw her axe into it. The blade cut deep into its throat, sending it sprawling to the ground. It lay there twitching, trembling, until the woman recalled the axe and dealt a killing blow.
Silence fell over the forest. Kratos thought about running, especially when he turned and saw her staring at him, eyes wide, as if she were seeing a ghost. “…oh,” she said. “Hello again.”
That was when her leg gave out. Kratos barely made it in time to catch her. To his surprise, she didn’t flinch away from his touch. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she did; this was only their second meeting, after all, and the first one had only barely ended well. “Son of a bitch,” the woman hissed. When Kratos looked down, he saw her leg was bleeding. “Well, this is embarrassing.”
Again, his instinct kicked in. He’d had run-ins with those creatures before, and while their bite had not been fatal to him, they had been more painful than he’d anticipated. Some kind of venom, if he had to guess. She would need to act quickly to treat the injury. “Is your home far?” he asked.
“Yeah…” The woman grimaced. “I have a poultice, I just need somewhere to sit down…”
“I’m…”
Was he really about to say this?
“…I have bandages. Clean water. If you…” Kratos paused and cleared his throat. “I still owe you for the venison.”
The woman hesitated, looking at him in quiet confusion. He expected her to turn him down, but instead she straightened up slightly and said, “That would be helpful. Thank you.”
Part of him thought this was a mistake. That he should take the offer back. But instinct returned, and he started walking the both of them back to his encampment.
As they walked, he struggled to remember her name. She had given it, he was sure, but that day had been long, exhausting. Faye, he remembered after some thought. Her name was Faye, and she was nearly as tall as he was. Her red hair was starting to come out of its braids. A splatter of blood crossed her nose, accenting its slight crookedness and the scar that marked it. Kratos was starting to wonder if she was in the habit of getting into fights. That or she had terrible luck. “Lucky you found me when you did,” said Faye, trying to sound cheerful despite the obvious pain in her voice. “I thought you were just passing through?”
Had he told her that? He really didn’t remember. “Here seemed as good a place to stop as any,” he said, perhaps more honest than he should have been. “At least there’s water.”
“That’s true. And it’s beautiful if you can avoid the tatzelwurms.”
“Is that what they’re called?”
“Sometimes. You hear great fucking annoyance more often.”
Kratos almost smiled at the comment. Almost. “That does seem more accurate, yes.”
His reservations only grew stronger as they grew closer, but he forced himself through them and kept walking. He did owe her. If he helped her with this, the debt would be repaid, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. (It certainly wasn’t because he was worried about her. He barely knew her. Kindness or not, what reason would he have to be worried?) He had to be careful leading her down to the cave; the ground sloped, and she nearly lost her footing once. She had to hold onto him to stay upright. “Sorry,” she said. “Oh…”
It didn’t occur to him then how the cave might look to an outsider. When he’d chosen it, he’d only been thinking of the fact that it was hidden, not immediately within the line of sight of any pathways, partially obscured by vegetation, out of the way enough that he could hide in peace. He had never stopped to consider how bleak it must have looked—not until then, at least. “It’s dry inside,” he said, unsure of what else to say.
“That’s…good. That’s…ow, damn it all…”
Her hiss of pain killed any potential conversation about his living conditions. Kratos lead her inside and carefully helped her sit down. He passed her water and bandages and stood back to let her tend to the wound, making sure not to stand in between her and the mouth of the cave. The injury was already red and inflamed when she took off her boot and peeled back her torn pants to start applying her poultice. “Will that help?” he asked clumsily
“It will draw the venom out, yes…and I think the little bastard only nipped me.” Kratos had to run what she said in his mind, making sure he understood her meaning. He was reasonably proficient in the local tongue, but she spoke very quickly and fluidly, and he still wasn’t used to conversation. “I’ll be all right. Just hurts.”
He felt an ache of sympathy for her. Brief as the feeling was, it was enough to startle him. He barely knew the woman. Yes, she had been kind to him, but…
Soft, said a disparaging voice in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure who that was supposed to be anymore; sometimes it reminded him of his father, other times Ares, sometimes Athena. Today it felt like all of them at once, mocking him for latching in to the first person to show him any kind of kindness. If she knew what you truly were…
He heard Faye curse quietly to herself. She had been able to clean the wound and apply the poultice, albeit somewhat messily, but her hands were shaking too badly from the pain for her to bandage it properly. At least she seemed more annoyed by her pain than distressed. It reassured him that she would likely live.
“Do you…” Kratos froze. No, why had he offered? She would never agree. She barely…
“Actually, do you mind? I think I’m still a bit rattled, and…” She held out one trembling hand. “Usually get the shakes before things get better.”
No backing out now.
Kratos hummed quietly and knelt next to her. He was careful to put as much space between them as possible while still being able to work. “This has happened before?” he guessed.
“Yeah, got me in the foot. That was worse, I think. I mean…I won’t have an easy time walking either way, but have you ever put weight on a foot injury?” She laughed awkwardly. “Don’t know what I did to deserve that kind of pain, but whatever it is, I am sincerely sorry.”
Kratos only hummed in response and focused on bandaging her wound as quickly as possible. His one solace was that she seemed more at ease than he felt, though he couldn’t imagine why. He may not have been trying to harm her last time, but he could have, and he was sure she knew that.
And yet, there she was, letting him bandage her wounded leg as though this were nothing out of the ordinary. She must be desperate.
Kratos moved back once the wound was bandaged, allowing Faye to start re-lacing her boots. She was still trembling, but didn’t seem on the verge of death. He would have to trust that she would be all right.
Still.
“You can stay a moment, if…if you wish,” Kratos said clumsily. “Until you’ve caught your breath.”
She seemed surprised by the offer. He expected more fear in her eyes, more apprehension, but instead she looked…surprised. Grateful. “If you don’t mind…”
He shook his head. “As I said. I owe you for the venison.”
It was the first meal he’d eaten in some time. He hadn’t forgotten.
Faye smiled, remarkably gently. “Thank you,” she said. “Hey, I don’t think I ever got your name?”
This time, when Kratos froze, there was no pushing past it. He wasn’t sure why that was suddenly too far. There was certainly no way she’d know who he was. But he couldn’t introduce himself. He didn’t want her to know. Better to be the strange man who lived in a cave in the woods than...
Monster. Monster.
“It’s all right,” Faye said quickly, interrupting his thoughts. “You don’t have to tell me, just…funny that we’ve run into each other twice now, isn’t it?”
“Hmm. Yes.”
He was just grateful the circumstances of this second meeting were different. Less harmful. That he was able to repay her kindness, even in part.
What he didn’t know how he felt about was the possibility that they might run into each other again. It seemed, after all, that the woods were not as large as he once thought.
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I was not technically tagged, but at least two people on my dash were like DO WHAT YOU WANT NO ONE IS YOUR GOD, and you know what? They’re right and valid.
1) How many works do you have on AO3?
96! And 90% of them are from just this year. Can’t wait to find out what the big 100 is gonna be. Any one of my WIPS could be Disney’s next 100th fic.
2) What’s your total AO3 word count?
455,024 (also mostly from this year...)
3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?
In my entire life??? Since I was twelve??? I don’t even know, man. I wrote a lot of ooc crackfic and fic for cartoons when I was on FF.net, and then I was on LJ and wrote for a TON of different fandoms, but on AO3, I have written for Critical Role (so much CR), Yashahime/Inuyasha, Guardians of the Galaxy, His Dark Materials (TV), Steven Universe, Bleach, Alias, Supernatural, Dollhouse, Pushing Daisies (the last four were all transferred here from LJ, though)
4) What are your top five fics by kudos?
- turning wine back into water (Critical Role, de-aging fic with plot, 30457 words)
I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE HOW POPULAR THIS FIC IS. It beat out two of my super popular GotG fics that have been up since 2017 BY A LOT. Apparently, there was a market for the Mighty Nein being adorable cocktail brats and saving the world. Thanks, Liam’s Quest!
It is probably one of the most wholesome fics I will ever write too. I love it.
- Sunshine Came Softly (Guardians of the Galaxy, Rocket and Mantis friendship, 3188 words)
THIS FIC STILL GETS HITS EVEN TODAY. It was written right after I saw the movie so it hit hard and fast on the hype train.
- Mine Is Just a Slower Sacrifice (Guardians of the Galaxy, Rocket-centric, 2248 words)
BOY YOU CAN TELL THESE FICS ARE ANCIENT BECAUSE I HADN’T DEVELOPED MY TITLE NICHE YET. where are the lower caps and Seanan McGuire lyrics!!
Anyway, this was written probably IMMEDIATELY after I saw the movie and had to process Rocket’s emotions during the last moments, because of who I am as a person. For what’s mostly a character study, it got some mileage on it.
- they drink dreamers up like brandy (Critical Role, 1625 words)
Back to Critical Role! I wrote this one when I was in a fucking blind post-finale haze and producing massive amounts of Kingsley content and I wanted to write a silly fic about Caleb being tiefling catnip.
- if adversity breeds character (we’ve character enough for two) (Critical Role, Beau and Molly-centric, 1824 words)
I feel like most of my most kudos-ed CR fics are Beau-related, which is funny because I never really wrote her EVER. I guess I need to write her more often. ANYWAY, this one got jossed immediately after 141, but I needed to write Beau and Molly bantering and I couldn’t get her flipping him off after revealing her card is Rumor out of my head.
(Incidentally my sixth most kudos-ed fic is my Fjorester next gen fic, WHICH I WAS NOT EXPECTING AT ALL. IT’S A FIC BASED ON MY OC FANCHILDREN!! I’M VERY EMOTIONAL ABOUT THAT!!)
5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?
Usually!! There are times when I forget and then it’s been so long that I never go back, but I like responding to comments. They make me so happy and I want to make sure the people who take the time to comment know that I see them and appreciate them. Especially if they give me long comments. You long commenters know who you are and I value you and also flail incoherently in your direction.
6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
God, probably this church takes no conversions simply because, like, the whole ending scenes are MISERABLE AND FULL OF ANGST and then it has the hopeful ending that is actually a bullshit lie.
But second place probably goes to what couldn’t i offer, what couldn’t i give, which is just misery porn in disguise as a character study. Sorry, Cree.
7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?
Okay, so back in the day when I was a tineh fanbrat I wrote a lot of self-indulgent crossovers featuring my friends and I in true Mary Sue format being ~saviors of the world~ alongside our favorite fictional characters and after I grew out of that, I very rarely did it again, because as someone who can only write AUs if they’re high concept and can only write crossovers if the canon welding is pristine, it’s difficult.
I have ideas for some! I just haven’t written them yet. Or they’re sitting in Google Docs partially written.
8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?
Not to my recollection, which is insane, because I’ve written some things in my youth that deserved it, but also I was a kid, so maybe I definitely did not deserve it. Don’t send hate to kids!!
9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?
The first smut I ever posted on AO3 involved some fucking American Gods flesh horror shit, so that answers your second question.
Basically, yes, but I write smut to facilitate character development in a way that regular story beats can’t, mainly with characters who are in some way deeply fucked up and have unbalanced dynamics.
So basically chances of me writing smut that isn’t Creecien or Lucigast? Very low. (I haven’t written Lucigast smut yet but I will. Inevitably.)
10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that anyone’s told me, but one time when I was a teenager someone ripped off an entire group messageboard RP I was in and tried to pass it off as a fic they wrote.
11) Have you ever had a fic translated?
Not that anyone’s told me!
12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I tried and it did not work out, because of (non-wanky) reasons, but it’s just not something I’d be very good at. I was the kid who wanted to work alone on group projects. I’m bad at group work.
13) What’s your all time favourite ship?
That I’ve WRITTEN??? Because that at least narrows it down significantly. Sesshoumaru/Rin hands down. It’s a good dynamic and they’re fun and sad at the same time.
My self-indulgent ass does also enjoy writing Creecien though. I’m putting it out there because I want it.
14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
GOD POOR SUPERNOVAS OF ALL SOUND AND LIGHT. THAT FIC COULD’VE BEEN A CONTENDER, but I unfortunately posted it RIGHT BEFORE the White Diamond episodes aired and it became so jossed by canon so fast that I gave up on life with chapter two half finished. I need to delete it but I can’t bring myself to bury my shame.
15) What are your writing strengths?
Dialogue and meta-narrative and character-specific stuff. I go into every story with CHARACTER FIRST mentality, which is how I end up writing so many damn character studies or why my word counts explode. I’m just out here naval gazing because I love character stuff SO MUCH.
I’ve been told I’m good at fight/action scenes too, which... Shocks me, but I think watching and playing a lot of D&D stuff has really improved how I write fighting and action sequences.
16) What are your writing weaknesses?
[whispers] too much naval gaze. dial it back, bitch.
I get really caught up in character stuff and forget to do important things like ADVANCE THE SCENE OR DESCRIBE THE SCENE OR LITERALLY ANYTHING. I also don’t think my prose is all that great, but I’m pretty sure every writer feels that imposter syndrome bullshit, so /waves hands. All I’m saying is I have seen some writers on AO3 who are writing some fucking vivid imagery and stringing flawless sentences together and weaving introspection and description together like beautiful baskets and they are stronger than any US Marine and I salute them and wish to be them.
17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
Iiii try not to. There’s times where I want to throw in, like, a little Zemnian for Caleb flair, but I try to stick to things that are either untranslatable (like German compound words), common phrases (like please or come here), or insults/curses/ pet names. Things that I don’t think Google will fucking lie to me about.
18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?
I think it was a Sailor Moon crackfic about Haruka being forced to enter a beauty pageant which was just a blatant rip-off of Ms Congeniality and oh my god was it awful. I don’t even wanna talk about it.
19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?
this church takes no conversions, probably BECAUSE it’s my little red-headed stepchild of a fic involving so many things that are just never going to make it popular (backstory fic, fic that is almost 85% headcanon, doesn’t involve popular characters, etc.), but godDAMMIT I love that fic so much. It was fun and I use every bit of that headcanon in almost everything like it’s my job.
shattered stage is a close second, because it was such a crazy concept for a fic that I PULLED OFF SOMEHOW and is this wonderful mix of crazy plot and character and lore and my three favorite tieflings having to work together. And also Jayne Merriweather as the main villain.
A lot of love went into both of those fics and they are my babies. this time next year we’ll see if I add Creedemption and shoot at fate to this list- probably. All of my epic long fics resolve to be my babies because I spent so much time on them, and I have to love them and cherish them because I raised them into gigantic wordy attempts to write a doorstopper.
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Author interview tag
I was tagged by @therealsaintscully! Thanks, you! :)
Name: SilentAuror
Fandoms: Just Sherlock, though I also follow some Old Guard blogs. :)
Where you post: AO3. Though I was almost knocked over the other day when I got a comment on an old HP fic over on skyehawke.com! It’s been literal YEARS since I got a review on anything over there! :P
Most popular multi-chapter fic: Against the Rest of the World for sure. :)
Favourite story you’ve written so far: With 87 posted fics and 2 more currently on the go, I can’t possibly answer that. That’s cruel. Lol.
Fic you were nervous to post: This, on the other hand, is easy, haha! Three stories, all for very different reasons:
1. The A.G.R.A Complex. This was my first Freebatch fic and I thought I might well be burnt at the stake for even writing any RPF. The notion for this story caught my muses’ attention, though, and they eventually forced me to write it against my will. I can’t be held responsible. Lol. It still amazes me that people continue to read it to this day. The notion: Martin and Benedict are friends. There’s a car accident and Martin suffers a fairly mild brain injury. While in his coma, dreams the entire first three seasons of Sherlock, which in this universe, haven’t happened. The nature of the brain injury is such that he keeps shifting mentally between the reality of who he and Benedict (and Amanda) are, and seeing himself and everyone else as their characters in the Sherlock universe. When I posted it, I intended it to be left up to the reader whether to see it as kind of an AU to actual reality, or else a prequel to the filming of Sherlock. When I finally decided to write a sequel, it meant that I had to be the one to make that clear, which made it a prequel. It became a three-part series, with the second part set during and just after the filming of series 3 (the dodgiest in the moral sense, since it dances around and into real life events), and then the third story takes place ten years later.
2. The Final Proof. Why? Easy. Major character death, and it’s Sherlock. That’s clear from about the first sentence, I think. I had written At the Heart of it All, which features Sherlock running an experiment using the hearts of people who lived lives where they had loved and been loved, and people who hadn’t in an effort to prove his own ability to love to John. He says something at the end of that story about wishing he could see his own heart at the end of their life to see which of the hearts his own resembled by then. And then my muses, my terrible, terrible muses said, “hey... you could write that: you know: Sherlock at the very end of his life, making John promise to look at his heart after he’s died, and complete his experiment.” I, like, teared up just at the thought, and honestly, I cried for most of the writing of that story. I’m assured that about 99% of the people who have read it have also cried throughout, so... sorry. Yeah.
3. Scars. Why? Easy, again: the entire story is riddled with gaslighting and other types of emotional abuse and mind-fuckery, and an actual rape scene. It was painful to the point of being interally corrosive to write, but I still felt it was a story I needed to tell. I did my homework on this one, consulted multiple therapists who work specifically in the field of men who have been absued (emotionally, physically, sexually) by female partners. I thought no one would read it. I thought I might lose half my followers on tumblr. But I still wrote it. It still amazes me that people read it, even more when they actually like it, and still like me after. Lol.
How you choose your titles: Hmm... each title genesis is different, I would say! Sometimes it’s a general theme of the story, sometimes it’s a specific concept or single word, occasionally (but not often) it’s a song title. Sometimes it’s another language, particularly Latin. In The A.G.R.A Complex, the title of the story is also the name that the neurologists given to the brain injury Martin experiences. Vena Cava is titled for the name of the vein that Mary’s bullet punctured in Sherlock’s heart, based on a medical analysis I had read. Scars takes its theme from both Sherlock’s external scars from what he went through during his time away, and John’s internal scars from Mary’s emotional abuse. I also have a whole series of (unrelated) flower-themed stories: The Green Carnations comes from ACD era coding for homosexuality. The Yellow Poppies is the story I wrote after the deleted scene about Magnussen’s hospital visit came out, which features both he and Mary as dual villains, and yellow poppies placed in Sherlock’s room as a threat from one or the other of them. The White Lotuses has a leitmotif of Hinduism and slow-blooming self-awareness and romance. The Red Roses is a Molly POV where she helps Sherlock and John get together in spite of her own feelings, and The Wisteria Tree is an amnesia story that has Sherlock forget the past six years of his life, including the five years that he’s been married to John, and how they find their way back together in spite of that. Rosa Felicia - bonus, both a flower name AND Latin, lol! - is a coming-of-age story about Rosie at the age of 19. Where My Demons Hide is a mid-series 4 story that I wrote after The Lying Detective aired, but before The Final Problem did, and is the title of an Imagine Dragons song. Pater Noster is Latin for the title of the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, but also quite literally just means “our father”, and is a story that centres around the events surrounding the death (murder) of John and Harry’s father. You get the gist.
Do you outline: I always say that one should know how a story begins, how it ends, and at least a few of the major points between those two events. So yes, but loosely. I think that over-plotting kills creativity. It’s not an essay. But even essays need space to grow.
Complete: 105 stories back in my skyehawke days, the vast majority of which are HP, totalling in about 1.5 million words. 87 stories in the Sherlock fandom (though those include my 4 Freebatch fics), totalling in over 2.3 million words now.
In progress: I have two stories currently pending: a Christmas story called The Secret of Hazel Grange, and a trauma-based, co-sleeping fic called Nocturne.
Coming soon/not yet started: I never comment about fics I haven’t yet started. Might curse the entire process, lol.
Do you accept prompts: No, alas. Neither prompts nor commissions. While I’m constantly desperately poor, it takes something out of the writing process for me once it becomes a job. I just feel like that’s not what fanfic is about for me. No judgement to anyone else who does write for commissions, whatsoever - we all have our own process! For me, I’m happy (make that incredibly grateful!) to have donations or supporters through my Patreon (eep: x), but writing to order just doesn’t quite jive for me. I also don’t take prompts, not because I don’t want them, but because I have such a huge backlog of my own ideas that I’ll never get to as it is. There will never be enough time to write all the fics I want to write! That said, don’t think that you can’t still suggest your ideas. My “official policy” (lol) is that I don’t take prompts (for the aforementioned backlog reason), but that doesn’t mean that if you do send me one, my muses won’t seize upon it and force me to write it. You never know. I certainly don’t, at least. :P
Upcoming story you are most excited to write: I’m super excited by the notion of actually getting my Christmas fic finished by Christmas. Lol. Here’s hoping!!
Tagging: Anyone who reads this and is a writer, or thinking about becoming one. You’ve been tagged!
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i had this ask on queue but??? i noticed for some reason my “read more” is....placed within the ask aaand i can’t take it out (like even if i delete everything and start all over again).... i’m so confused lol
so anyway, here’s my reply anon! :) ↴ ↴
this was in reference to my smutty series recs...several months ago...so y’all know the drill. idk how to keep things short. and i always take forever to reply. so here u go <3
there’s a lot of smut out there...so i’ve restricted this to only pwps. maybe i’ll do a comp for smutty fics with plot in the future.
also i’m kind of vanilla LOL so none of these should be too wild 😂 sorry if you were looking for a wild anal fisting blood play orgy adjfeajl
KEY: (*) = haven’t read yet but i’ll rec anyway cause i can
NAMJOON
.•° As The Cauldron Bubbles by @winetae
°•. Summary: What makes for a potent potion? Step one. In one room, gather two people who seemingly dislike each other. Step two. Stir in a pinch of snark and four ladles of sexual tension. Step three. Wait until everything simmers to a boil.
.•° Attitude by @fightmejeonkook
°•. Summary: Namjoon is your best friend and a quick dare quickly changes everything between you two, a kiss leading from one thing to another as pent up tension surfaces.
.•° Bitten & Knotted by @jamaisjoons (*)
°•. Summary: As different as night and day, your two lovers have many differences, after all, one is a vampire and the other is a werewolf. They have their similarities too, namely their supernaturally long life. Something you don’t share. Something they’re going to rectify tonight.
.•° Chemi-beat by @hoseokiehopie
°•. Summary: Your fun plan to seduce your boyfriend in his studio backfires when it’s broadcasted on VLIVE for the entire ARMY to see.
.•° Choke by @writingseoul
°•. Summary: You help him to relax.
.•° Feeling Good by @ethertae (*)
°•. Summary: A wonderful threesome with Kim Namjoon, and Kim Seokjin.
.•° Forbidden by @junghelioseok
°•. Summary: A dance with the devil under the pale moon.
.•° Hunger's Only Friend by @bangtanbullies
°•. Summary: Namjoon has a philosophy that while some women are prettiest with their masks of cosmetic, a slut is at her most beautiful when she is freshly fucked.
.•° His Roomate by @joondaily
°•. Summary: When your boyfriend suggested the two of you spice up your sex life, you never expected that to include time alone with his roommate. (feat. Jungkook)
.•° Peaches and Cream by @jinpire
°•. Summary: “Baby,” he says, the sheer arousal in his eyes melting most of your resistance. He shoves the laptop back onto the coffee table before grabbing your hands, his thumbs running over your knuckles. “Y/N. Give me ten minutes between your gorgeous thighs, and you’ll never want to miss out again. I swear.”
.•° Please, Santa by @floralseokjin
°•. Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and you and Namjoon are about to partake in some peculiar roleplay…
.•° Through The Phone by @imaginethisbts
°•. Summary: The sexual frustration is real when Namjoon goes on a month long business trip, halfway across the world. So when the chips are down and the tides get rough, and you can’t actually get to one another… what do you do? You go to the next best thing of course - phone sex.
.•° Under The Mistletoe by @11-ish
°•. Summary: In which you’ve met your high school lover, Namjoon in the eve of Christmas.
SEOKJIN
.•° A Saint In Her Halo by @winetae
°•. Summary: Beneath his immaculate appearance and flowery words, no one would expect such filth to spew from his lips or; Kim Seokjin is simultaneously the best and worst kind of distraction.
°•. m/n: ok, so this isn’t smut per say. Moreso sexually suggestive. But it’s good ok. So good.
.•° Charm Me by @jungblue
°•. Summary: You have a test in charms tomorrow, and you know that you’re completely screwed, but luckily your boyfriend Jin, who is an expert in the subject, offers to help—however you quickly learn that he might actually be a bit too good at them.
.•° Daydream by @dom-joonie
°•. Summary: Your literature professor has a bit of a…gift. A gift that let’s him see other peoples thoughts when he wants to. And despite the fact that he warns his class openly about this gift, one day you forget, and find yourself in a bit of pickle when Kim Seokjin reads your mind, and finds you imagining some not so school appropriate scenarios…involving him.
.•° Dr. Kim by @btsfiles
°•. Summary: He’s the hospital’s best surgeon, and you’re more than just an admirer.
.•° Green Room by @hoseokiehopie
°•. Summary: You blow your boyfriend in the green room after a concert when neither of you can hold yourselves back.
.•° Hazy by @yoonia (*)
°•. Summary: “You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.”
.•° In the Mood by @kinktae (*)
°•. Summary: With the second world war finally over, soldiers are coming back home to their families, and famous Hollywood actor Seokjin is no different. Eager to get to babymaking with his wife but plagued by the need to re-establish himself in the film industry, Seokjin is to forced to engage in a more unconventional conception method.
.•° Pink by @tayegi
°•. Summary: “Stop undressing me with your eyes! Use your teeth.”
.•° Sehnsucht by @johobi
°•. Summary: An embarrassing run-in with your new boss is only the start of your destructive infatuation.
.•° Self-Indulgent Fantasy by @bxebxee
°•. Summary: You try your best to wrinkle Seokjin’s vest, but he’s not having it.
.•° Urs by @floralseokjin
°•. Summary: Seokjin’s been dreaming of this moment for so long…
.•° Washing Machine by @btssmutgalore
°•. Summary: Jin shows you another way to use the old washing machine.
YOONGI
.•° 1:32 AM by @mikronysus
°•. Summary: Your eyes narrowed into slits as you glared at the scene unfolding in front of you, your fingers grasping the straw of your drink as you silently seethed to yourself. You watched as the girl laughed at whatever it was your boyfriend had said, her fingers grazing his arm as she looked up at him with eyes that were clouded over in a drunken haze. Sneering at the sight, you clenched your jaw as you watched her move closer towards him.
.•° 7:30 AM by @prolixitae
°•. Summary: It isn’t often that you get to wake tangled in each other.
.•° A Lesson by @btsxyou (feat. Jungkook)
°•. Summary: Maybe it was the thought, in the back of your mind, the thought that had swirled around inside, about how Yoongi could take you from the equal you were when you were with Jungkook, and turn you into a puppet. How he knew what he was doing.
.•° A Brush of Silk by @jinpire
°•. Summary: His lips curl around your neck, whispering, “I want slow today. You good with that, baby?” “You say that like you ever want anything else, old man,” you quip back, your voice a tad breathless.
.•° Between Chocolates & Candy Canes by @yoonia
°•. Summary: This day was supposed to be the best day of your life. After a long wait filled with curiosity, excitements and a bundle of nerves, you are finally here, walking between the other members in the tour group invited to visit the magnificent and renowned Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. (feat. Jimin)
.•° Boyfriend Jeans by @bangtanboysboo
°•. Summary: Yoongi is leaving for tour and he needs his jeans.
.•° Buzz by @floralseokjin (complete series)
°•. Summary: In which you’re unsure if you’ve ever received an orgasm and when you finally pluck up the courage to use the vibrator you bought that one day on a whim, Yoongi barges through the door…
.•° Chardonnay by @btsxyou
°•. Summary: You lifted your gaze, turning your head towards him, and giving him a half smile, not too nicely, but that perfect smirk that you know would eat at him the whole night. Because he wanted you, but he couldn’t have you.
.•° Diaphanous by @yoongisbbydoll (*)
°•. Summary: Yoongi has missed you more than anything. Staying away for a long time it too much on him, but he knows it is much harder on you. Therefore, whenever he can, he brings home presents you could never have imagined.
.•° Firsts by @badbhye (*)
°•. Summary: You and Yoongi had been dating for a good six months, and you had told him from the get-go that you wanted to wait until you were ready to have sex. It wasn’t as if your virginity was something you held sacred, you just wanted to do it with someone you were comfortable with and trusted completely. And Yoongi was that.
.•° Ink by @guksthighs
°•. Summary: Yoongi needs to remind you who you belong to.
.•° Jitters by @versigny
°•. Summary: Yoongi read you like an open book, and judging from your blown-pupils and faintly parted lips, he probably definitely knew what you were thinking about.
.•° Long Distance by @miss-noo-na
°•. Summary: Yoongi misses the sound of your voice.
.•° Sticky Honey by @minlattes
°•. Summary: Yoongi’s every day life with you is a gift, you’re his favorite human.
.•° True Love Cafe by @versigny
°•. Summary: Make me fall in love with you.
.•° The Honeytrap by @jamaisjoons
°•. Summary: What can you do when your bees aren’t producing the amount of honey they should be? Ask your neighbour, the honeybee king, for help of course!
HOSEOK
.•° 100-to-1 by @mytaerminology
°•. Summary: “I have an idea” Hoseok said, way too enthusiastically for your liking.
.•° Adjustment by @yminie
°•. Summary: At Kim-Jung Chiropractics, they meet your every need, and today it’s not just your back that needs aligning.
.•° All Toy, No Mercy by @prolixitae (*)
°•. Summary: As an amateur porn couple, you’VE got roles to uphold. Said roles leave hoseok at your mercy when you conjure up a sick little theme for this week’s video. Two words: Orgasm torture.
.•° Barbarian by @httpjeon
°•. Summary: Your husband, Hoseok, comes home from a raid with the need to make you pregnant with his child.
.•° Cold Showers by @chillingtae
°•. Summary: Everyone has bad habits. Yours just happens to be long, hot showers - it’s not like it’s that bad. Long showers were a habit you couldn’t break despite the fact that Hobi told you on the daily not to use all of the hot water…Which brings you to your current situation. You decide that Hobi will just have to get over your habit, and you’ve got the perfect plan thought up of how to do just that…
.•° Gumdrops & Lollipops by @winetae (*)
°•. Summary: A visit to Jung Hoseok’s chocolate factory does not turn out the way you expected it to.
.•° Hatefuck by @njssi (*)
°•. Summary: Perhaps pissing off Hobi during dance practice wasn’t that good of an idea. Or perhaps it was the best idea you’ve had in a while.
.•° Sunlit Affair by @ubemango
°•. Summary: Twenty-five is a good look on Hoseok.
.•° Take Me by @yoonia
°•. Summary: “I don’t want you to stop.”
.•° The Last Day of Summer by @whichwaytowonderlandep
°•. Summary: 365 days in a year. Three months dedicated to a summer vacation and you wasted no time to fuck around with some guy you had met at the hostel you were staying.
.•° To the Beat of My Heart by @jeonggukingdom
°•. Summary: When you walk into the studio that Sunday afternoon, all you expect is a lonely and chill practice session but, a few hours later, your programs are shattered in thousand pieces by the unexpected presence of Jung Hoseok. And nothing could have prepared you for what he had in store for you.
.•° War Game by @yoonia
°•. Summary: “You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into"
JIMIN
.•° A Bite of The Apple by @jinpire
°•. Summary: The thought of Jimin not being able to feed from someone other than you is troubling in more than one sense– there will be times, like the past week, when you physically can’t be there for him, and what would happen in an emergency, if he somehow got hurt and needed a transfusion, if his body rejected the blood of someone else. And that’s not even considering the long term implications of that….
.•° A Matter of Pride by @jincherie
°•. Summary: You make some comments that wound Jimin’s pride and threaten his standing as Best Lover of the group so he sets out to prove you wrong the only way he knows how.
.•° Barefoot And by @dovechim
°•. Summary: I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk and I have to feel your cum drain out of me until I remember how to move.
.•° Birthday Boy by @polaritae
°•. Summary: You’re the best present Jimin could have asked for.
.•° Breaking Of The Fast by @versigny
°•. Summary: “Why don’t you want me?”
.•° Class President by @btssmutgalore
°•. Summary: Class president candidate Jimin would do anything to get your vote.
.•° Clone-a-Willy™ by @dovechim
°•. Summary: “I’ve had this plug in me all day, when do I get to feel your cock instead?”
°•. Sequel: Heightened Secrecy
.•° Euphoria by @94hixtape
°•. Summary: “Let’s have a threesome when we graduate, if… uh, we’re still single that is…”
.•° Gingerbread House by @readyplayerhobi (feat. Jungkook)
°•. Summary: Do you have a sweet tooth? Or do you prefer a bit of spice in your treats? Gingerbread House has all your needs met with our large range of confectionery that’s sure to meet everyone’s tastes. For those looking for something a little more personalised, we’re always willing to create bespoke confectionery to suit you. Give us a call or visit our store, you’re sure to find plenty to sink your teeth into!
.•° Little Monster by @floralseokjin
°•. Summary: You’ve been good friends with your roommate Jimin for a while, occasionally flirting with each other, especially when you’ve had a drink, but nothing has ever happened between the two of you…until that is, he secretly listens to you and Namjoon have sex one day…He thinks you don’t know, but he’s wrong…
.•° Lower by @parkmuse
°•. Summary: After six months you finally break the sexual tension… with phone sex.
.•° Mischievous Maintenance by @dark-muse-iris
°•. Summary: Like many adults who are trying to make the best of working in a field unrelated to their degree, you greet Mondays with the same enthusiasm as an ex with shared custody. You don’t to be there, but adult responsibilities require it and you need money. And coffee. And the salacious advances from the head maintenance technician working in your office.
.•° Nursemaid by @noona-la-la-la
°•. Summary: Jimin’s crush comes over to his house to help him out after he suffers an injury that leaves him with limited use of both hands.
.•° One More Time by taepott
°•. Summary: You can’t resist Jimin, even if he is a fuckboy.
.•° Raw by @btsjeonjazz
°•. Summary: A demon and an angel are trying to win over you. But who will succeed?
.•° Watch Me by @swoonjoon
°•. Summary: Who knew watching some camboy would turn into so much more?
TAEHYUNG
.•° Bad Decisions by @94hixtape
°•. Summary: Taehyung sighs in the curve of your neck, lips roaming the soft expanse of skin as his hands can’t seem to find a resting spot in the curves of your body. It’s one am and the silence in his dorm room is as overwhelming as it is exciting; you blame on the bottle of vodka the two of you had while studying for finals. One hour ago it seemed like a good idea. One hour later, not so much.
.•° Desideratum by @junqkook
°•. Summary: You had no idea you’d fall for a Hufflepuff, especially not the seeker with a big smile and wandering hands that you spent more time in bed with than you cared to admit.
.•° Fever by @yoonia
°•. Summary: “I wish I could hate you.”
.•° Good Girl by @suga-kookiemonster
°•. Summary: You don’t really know much about kim taehyung. What you do know is that he’s your handsome coworker and that, since you just accidentally sent him a nude, you’re good and royally fucked.
.•° Heatwave by @curly-bangtan
°•. Summary: When your town is hit with a heatwave, and the air conditioning at your shared place coincidentally malfunctions, you start to go a little crazy at your shit luck because there’s nothing you hate more than clammy pits, while Taehyung goes a little crazy thinking you’re trying to seduce him with your tiny shorts and popsicle-sucking skills.
.•° H is for Hairpulling by @polaritae
°•. Summary: You continue your work, trying your best to gently untangle his hair. For the most part, you only have to give the strands a tug and they unravel, but some knots are worse than others. A particularly large mess has you yanking at the strands. Taehyung whimpers.
.•° Of Lace and Lust by @hobidreams
°•. Summary: Friendship rule number one: Don’t imagine how amazing your best friend’s cock would feel inside you. Except that’s all you can think about after accidentally discovering Taehyung’s kink for panties. Specifically, the lacy ones you’re so fond of wearing.
.•° On The Significance Of Names by @wildernessuntothemselves
°•. Summary: Despite living in a world where romantic or sexual relationships with witches could be punishable by death, you, a witch, still feel confident enough to ask your friend Taehyung, a werewolf and prince, to allow you to relieve your intense curiosity that could’ve only sprouted from years of sexual repression, and give you the chance to feel what it’s like to pleasure a man.
.•° One Night Snap by @taesjpg
°•. Summary: [23:09] Kim Taehyung: DO NOT OPEN THE SNAP I JUST SENT TO YOU FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE DON’T
°•. Sequel: Part 2
.•° The Fanmeet by @ellieljade
°•. Summary: Taehyung is jealous over Jungkook flirting with his girlfriend and decides to teach him a lesson in front of their fans.
.•° The Name Game by @drquinzelharleen
°•. Summary: You invite some of your friends over for a small party. When a tame night in turns into a dirty one. Your friend Hoseok comes up with a fun game for you all to participate in.
.•° The Silver One by @prolixitae
°•. Summary: You didn’t mean to swipe right but now you’re sleeping with a hot jewelry salesman who makes fun of bottoms as much as you do.
.•° Voice Note by @kpopfanfictrash
°•. Summary: Taehyung: did u listen [4:16 PM]
JUNGKOOK
.•° A Sip of the Grail by @jinpire
°•. Summary: You take in his expression curiously, trying to understand this new Jungkook that’s somehow both bold and shy, before tilting your chin to the left and exposing the curve of your neck. A quick hook of your finger into the collar of your sweater unveils more of your shoulder to his gaze. “Go ahead, Jungkook,” you murmur, voice just above a whisper.
.•° All I Want for Cockmas by @junqkook
°•. Summary: You tell Santa exactly what you want for Christmas.
.•° Arm Candy by @bisougi
°•. Summary: “Yes, Mr. Jeon.”
.•° CaptainAmerica!Jungkook by @hayjeon
°•. Summary: His shield clatters to the floor as he rips off his mask and presses desperate, hard kisses to your lips, sucking the breath out of you and swallowing your mewls.
.•° Desiderium by @jeonggukingdom
°•. Summary: “We’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still so horny?”
.•° Fast and Definitely Furious by @parkmuse
°•. Summary: “Car sex looks so much easier in the movies.”
.•° Heat Wave by @iq-biased
°•. Summary: As soon as the ice touches his glowing skin, it begins to melt instantly - the jagged edge moulding into a smooth surface that ghosts lightly over his flesh.
.•° Mastur-bait by @kookswife (*)
°•. Summary: You drunkenly touch yourself in front of your neighbour, hoping he’ll take notice. You can’t help but do a double take when he actually does.
.•° Soft Touch by @minnpd
°•. Summary: “Thank god you’re home. I need a favor.”
.•° Stay by @kpopfanfictrash
°•. Summary: You and Jungkook are fuck buddies.
.•° Take Me to Church by @illneverrecover
°•. Summary: You can always tell when something is bothering your boyfriend, despite how hard he tries to hide it - and you have creative ways to get him to talk.
.•° Tinder 2.0 by @tayegi
°•. Summary: In disbelief over your good luck, you stumble down the hall towards the session rooms. A 9.8?! You’ve only been here twice. The first time you had been matched with a 6.5 and the second time with a 7, and both men had been so sexy and talented between the sheets that you had been walking on cloud nine for weeks afterwards. But now you were with a 9.8? You could hardly imagine what that would entail.
.•° Tooth and Claw by @johobi
°•. Summary: Sympathetic to the plight of the werewolves your kind have culled to near-extinction, life as a human informant has never been one of safety. However, when you catch the eye of an alpha, your situation only grows more perilous.
°•. Sequel: Moonsent
.•° Zipper by @parkmuse
°•. Summary: Your best friend thinks it’s a good idea to watch porn together, he’s dumb.
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ooh 1 and 6 (and in my chest, you knew me best)? for the fic writer ask?
wahhhh tysm abby <33
1. Of the fics you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?
i technically already answered this question here, but truly i have so many "favorite" fics i'll answer it again vikjsnksf!!! i do truly have a soft spot in my heart for That was my heart, the drums that start off night and day (figayda coffeeshop au) bc they're just so 🥺🥺
6. Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in and in my chest, you knew me best?
as far as i can remember i didn't cut any major scenes from that fic- or at least, not any major enough that i felt the need to copy paste them somewhere else or remember deleting them! and for the most part, i write my fics almost entirely chronologically so there aren't often a lot of scenes that are added in later, but there was one section I wrote a little later in the process and added in i think:
“What are you thinking about?” Fig whispered one night backstage. It was intermission, the thirty minute break they had mid-shift where they could drink water and go to the bathroom before the second half; and where Fig usually shoveled a granola bar or yogurt cup into her mouth at rather alarming speeds.
You, Fabian thought, before hesitating. He swallowed the word, forcing a smile as he attempted to brush off her curious glance. “Oh, uh, nothing.”
“Really?” There was a faint, teasing smile on Fig’s lips as she cocked her head at him. “Cause I think I can see the wheels turning up there.” She tapped him gently on the temple with the calloused tip of her finger.
send me fic author asks!!
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hiiii its me poppin in to ask q's <3 : c, d ( pk ), i, r, u, x
🥰🥰 For you, Kait, I will answer anything (except spoilers for PK)
C: What character do you identify with most?
On TVD, probably Caroline but I think she is (ignoring post season 4/5) the most relatable to most women. She and I have a shared neuroticism, love of organisation and control. However, according to a google search, I have the same personality type as Bonnie (INFJ - though I’m more Ambivert than either I or E) which makes a lot of sense to me but they really never brought out her full potential so I think it would be hard for anyone to fully identify. In the broader world of fiction, though, I’m Lisa Simpson. My mum says it all the time and even that one test puts me as highest correlated with her.
D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with Psychedelic Kicks?
It’s called To The Beautiful You (아름다운 그대에게) and it’s by Wonder Girls. It’s the reason this fic even exists and the last official release of my first ever K-Pop artist (I’m fine, everything is fine 😫). I made a fake playlist for it though here ✨
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
I really enjoy just the almost moments and there’s plenty of them in PK but it’s so fun to write it like I know all the readers will be suffering but it’s just...the d r a m a
R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?
@she-walked-away (Unexpected Exposure + Dirty Little Secret) @galvanizedfriend (We’ll Always Have New Orleans) @supernutellastuff (Picturesque) are definitely the most influential simply because a year ago almost to the very day, I had been considering deleting this account but reading and re-reading (in the case of she-walked-away’s stories) their fics really inspired me to return to writing. It’s crazy to think that if not for them, would I be writing right now? I went through a hiatus that was almost 2 years and I just kinda disappeared and I didn’t write more than a couple thousand words and now this year alone, I’ve written near 200,000 words. So a big thank you is in order for them ❤️
U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.
I’m just going to gush more about the three already mentioned:
she-walked-away: This writer is just a master at making drama come to life. It never feels forced or over the top and the dialogue revolving conflict feels so natural and realistic. I have read Dirty Little Secret...too many times just because it is such an easy, enjoyable read. I can read it in one day and be like well, ok let’s go back to the beginning and start again! Unexpected Exposure, is my favourite, however. I don’t read it often but it’s because when I do, I really like to savour every single scene. I always bring it up, but there’s this scene where they’re in a club dancing with each other and the sexual chemistry is just through the freaking roof! This could be a non-KC story and I would still regard it as a favourite.
galvanizedfriend: I found this story in the tumblr tags last year. I had finished classes a month before I was set to go home so I had a lot of free time and just ended up re-reading a bunch of fics. When I finished all my usual favourites, I looked in the tumblr tags and stumbled upon We’ll Always Have New Orleans. I am such a picky reader ESPECIALLY when it comes to dialogue and tended to prefer human AUs over canon-divergent stories but this story just blew me away (and now here I am, writing a canon-divergent story). Yokan writes so beautifully and I am in awe of how much she can write in such little time with such quality. The story isn’t available any longer and I will always respect her decision to make it so but from all that I can recall, the characterisation was just wonderful. (spoilers) It honestly broke my heart when they reunite and there’s just the gut-wrenching realisation that for her it had been a day or so but for him it had been like 3 months. I CANNOT EXPRESS THE LEVEL OF GUILT I FELT VICARIOUSLY THROUGH CAROLINE. Heartbreak aside, the romance is so fucking gorgeous and well-built, never forced, always well-timed.
supernutellastuff: I, like Yokan’s story, found Picturesque when I was done re-reading my usuals and I think I found it on a klarolinemagazine list for friends with benefits. This was a story that literally had me like ????? how had I never seen this story before?????? Like I said, I’m picky as fuuuuck and I just fell into this story and it swallowed me whole. The friendships in this story really make it come to life and the first scene (spoilers) where Klaus and Caroline are smoking together, and he’s like well it’ll just be us two left - I SCREAM the chemistry was already overflowing. This story builds upon their relationship gradually and it really feels like two freaking adults in a weird entanglement. It’s not filled with random plot twists and it’s not so true to life that it becomes boring, it is just the perfect balance.
X: A character you enjoy making suffer.
There isn’t really any one character in particular (Damon cough) but I kind of enjoy making them all suffer in some way but mainly because it’s I know the reader will suffer? And if that’s not sadistic, I don’t know what is lmao
#klaroline#klaus mikaelson#caroline forbes#the originals#the vampire diaries#klaroline fanfiction#ask game#ask games#a
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