#part two of this fic is mostly finished. i'll probably post it next week!
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Guilty Pleasures
18+ 3.3k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 1/4. AO3 link. CH 2 CH 3
Homelander is on top of the world. He can say or do whatever the fuck he wants, and the sycophants around him will bend over backwards to make his word law, with few notable exceptions.
He never expected you to be one of them. When you put him in his place after a workplace incident, he becomes fixated on the promise of a firm hand alongside a soft body.
It’s Thursday, which means Homelander is currently bored to tears less than ten minutes into Vought’s weekly digital marketing meeting. These monotonous discussions of percentages and trending graphics gradually begin to feel like a drill pushing slowly into each of his ears, but they’re a necessary evil if he wants to have input when it comes to his image.
He taps his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his chair. The tapping pauses, however, at the appearance of a new presenter.
You.
You’re a far cry from the dime a dozen jackass in a suit that had been presenting before you. He’s sure he hasn’t seen you before, which means you’re new. His gaze drifts from your round face to the sensible cut of your blouse, the garment buttoned nearly to your throat. Anything less would be considered lewd given the size of your breasts. He wets his lips absently, adjusting himself to sit a little straighter.
He’s completely lost track of what you’re talking about in favor of watching the way your hips sway each time you walk from one end of the board to the other, tactfully engaging each observer. You have a resonant voice, commanding attention without sounding harsh. With a rack like that, you must have to fight to have a word you say heard by anyone with even a passing interest in a good pair of tits.
Not that the cheap fabric of your bra is doing them any favors. Silk would be better. He’s always liked the shine of it. Softer, too. It wouldn’t scrape against your shirt the way he can hear that cotton blend you’re wearing is doing.
Curious, he focuses his vision to peer through your blouse. Your undergarments are plain and sensible. Boring. Still, it elicits a distinct pang between his legs. His mouth waters slightly. Even from where he is, he can smell you, fresh and clean, slightly sweet smelling–like vanilla. Your clothes may be pedestrian but at least your perfume is nice.
Letting his gaze slide lower, he admires how the curves of your body flow into one another. He can tell just by looking at you how soft you would feel against him, under him. How good you would feel to grip and hold in place, sink into and lose himself in. Your voice has a soothing quality to it that lets him easily imagine you’re breathlessly singing his praises instead of rattling off bullet points in a presentation.
Fuck, he’s getting hard, his cock throbbing lightly against the cup of his suit. It’s the only thing that allows him to fantasize as freely as he does. The best part of it is that he’s fairly certain he can sense something warm and wet throbbing between your thick thighs.
He suspects he’s not the only one fantasizing.
The room is quiet for a second too long, and Homelander abruptly tunes back in to realize you’re staring directly at him, expectancy in your gaze. He pulls a blank, realizing he hasn’t processed anything you’ve said. “Say again?”
There’s a flicker of irritation in your eyes before you tightly school your expression back into polite professionalism. His lips slowly split into a devious smile that he consciously fine-tunes to be more neutral. How close you came to some sort of heated response was kind of… cute. It makes him want to give your proverbial pigtails another tug just to see what else he can evoke.
The thought of pulling your hair is good. The thought of you pulling his hair is better, though.
“I asked if you have any feedback for our campaign leading up to the premiere,” you say, though Homelander finds himself more interested in the flash of your tongue he gets as you run it along your teeth afterwards. Your temperature is up a notch, too. You must not be used to such direct attention from someone like him.
“Nope,” he says glibly, turning on one of his patented knock-out smiles. “Looks good to me.” At that, he pointedly looks you up and down, meeting your gaze with a quick wink.
Judging by the slight tic at the corner of your mouth, you aren’t charmed by his response. Still, he waits in preemptive satisfaction for you to appease him by returning his smile.
You don’t.
Instead, you say nothing more than a terse “Wonderful,” the singular word barely passing for civil, let alone professional. You move on, and Homelander finds himself taken aback. You don’t meet his eye for the remainder of the presentation, and while that gives him plenty of opportunity to ogle you, it bothers him.
Towards the end of your time, he clears his throat. Everyone looks at him.
Everyone but you.
“Thanks so much for your time,” you say to the committee, smiling, finishing your piece with a small incline of your head. You go sit, and there’s a slightly awkward pause before the next presenter takes center stage.
Homelander sits in stunned silence. The idea that you, some fresh faced nobody, think you’re in any position to blow him off is laughable at best. Who cares if he didn’t pay attention to your little presentation? That’s not his job. You’re lucky he’s even here, lucky that someone like him would think to give you time out of his day.
By the time the meeting concludes, you haven’t spared him so much as a glance. Indignation builds hotly in his chest. He’s had more than enough of being snubbed lately. He’s not going to tolerate it from the likes of you.
You should be on your hands and knees begging for his attention.
He watches a handful of your peers congratulate you on your first presentation, though plenty of others cast him wary glances and decide not to approach you. They know better. They know who’s really in charge around here. Naturally, they all skitter away like roaches when he strides towards you.
“Not bad for your first presentation,” he tells you, his smile toned down into a thin, lopsided smirk.
You look around yourself, no doubt taking note of how the other little insects around you have scattered. Maybe now you’ll realize your mistake.
“Thank you, sir,” you say, your body angled slightly away from him, as if you’re ready to bolt at any second.
“Got a lot on my mind, though, so I don’t think I absorbed as much as I could have,” he says, laying on that boyish charm a little thicker than usual. “Would really appreciate it if you could stick around and run that by me one more time.”
Your gaze flickers away from him–he wishes you would stop doing that–to the others who’re filtering out of the room, slowly leaving the two of you behind.
“As I said during the presentation, all the documents will be available online,” you say, finally looking back at him. You actually have the audacity to look annoyed that he’s talking to you.
“I don’t have a computer,” he replies, his own voice beginning to flatten.
“I’m sure someone in IT can help you with that,” you say, undeterred by his attempts to corner you.
His smile tightens minutely. “Do you have some kind of problem with me?”
Your heart jumps. He finds satisfaction in that, at least.
“No, sir,” you say sharply, a barely discernible hitch in your voice. “What I have are deadlines. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to meet them.” With that, you manage to squeeze by him. Despite the steady confident tap of your shoes against the floor, your heart races rabbit-like in his ears.
He contemplates you as you go, momentarily stupefied by your flagrant disregard for him. You weren’t entirely unaffected by his presence, though. If you’d had less of an avenue for escape, would you have been so flippant? He continues to focus on the beat of your heart as your steps carry you further from him. It doesn’t slow. You’re still full of adrenaline, the scent of it lingering alongside your perfume. He inhales a slow, deep breath, the leather of his gloves creaking as he curls and uncurls his fist.
Homelander finds himself wondering what your agenda is, what makes you so desperate to break from the norm and catch his attention. It’s clear to him that’s what you want. Why else would you be so stubborn where anyone else would yield? He scoffs to himself.
God, it’s so obvious in hindsight.
He has no doubt that your brazen attitude would shatter if he pressed in closer, if you felt the heat of his breath on your lips. He could part your soft thighs and paint the face of God on the ceiling above you with his tongue inside you. You couldn’t dismiss him so easily then, could you?
You’re so determined to be noticed that it’s almost pathetic. He shouldn’t reward this kind of behavior, and yet he feels strangely inclined to commend it. What you’ve done is brave in a way. Insolence and sycophants he can’t abide, but a touch of bravery? Well… That can be rewarded.
Your heart thunders in your ears as you make a beeline for your office. You can feel a terrible burn crawling up your chest and into your cheeks, the reality of what just happened finally allowed to sink in. You had spent all morning preparing yourself for presenting your work in front of not only your new peers at Vought, but in front of the world’s most prolific superhero. You were solid, you were ready.
Until you felt the gravity of his gaze on you. The weight of it made you stutter where you shouldn’t have, lose your train of thought mid-sentence. Every time you dared to look at him, he was looking at you like he was going to swallow you whole. Never have you felt more acutely aware of yourself than you did beneath his stare, feeling the way he was picking you apart as keenly as you would feel his hands undressing you.
It left you as furious as you are flustered.
That arrogant bastard!
You close the door behind you with a rough breath, closing your eyes. You can’t even sit, you have to pace your office instead, shaking your hands out as you walk. You know you weren’t imagining it. He confirmed as much for you when it took a solid eight seconds of silence for him to tear his gaze up from your chest, smiling as wickedly as any devil and caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar.
You couldn’t look him in the eye after that. It was humiliating to be reduced so thoroughly and obviously in front of your peers. Worst of all, he seemed damn pleased by it.
Though that isn’t the only reason your heart is still racing. You’re not quite ready to address that yet. You’re fairly certain if you’d been forced to speak to him any more than you had, you would have said something that would cause you to lose your job. You just need space to breathe, to collect yourself, to–
There’s a brisk knock at your door. Great. What now?
“Just a m–” You’re stopped dead in your tracks by a familiar flash of red, white and blue as Homelander lets himself into your office, closing the door securely behind him.
“Howdy,” he greets. He looks cartoonishly wide and brightly colored against the neutral colors of your office, even more larger than life than he’d seemed in the conference room. He has a smile that looks like it belongs in the mouth of a shark about to take a bite of you. It sets you off kilter completely–not that you’d been much on it to begin with.
You gawk a moment before managing to close your mouth. “Homelander,” you say, your voice curt in your own ears. You have no idea how to address him, still frazzled from not only the presentation, but your interaction that followed it. You should ask him what he needs.
“What’re you doing here?” That came out ruder than you meant it to. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Still, you’re trying to keep this job.
“Are you always this pleasant?” He asks, cocking his head slightly as he comes to a stop in front of you, his arms held behind his back beneath his swaying cape. “Or did I catch you on a bad day?”
Is he serious?
“Your conduct today was inappropriate,” you say flatly, settling your hands on your hips.
Homelander scoffs lightly. “Oh, relax. You gonna ‘#Metoo’ me over a wink? Christ, you’re done up tighter than that blouse of yours,” he says, his gaze dipping. A chill rolls up your spine as you watch his tongue roll along his teeth. He’s like an animal anticipating a meal.
Your jaw drops, cold shock settling in your gut alongside that blistering heat. Of all the things you had prepared yourself for before coming to Vought, Homelander being a misogynistic sex-pest hadn’t been on your list.
Well. Not the sex-pest part, anyways.
You point to your office door. “Get out.”
He blinks, zero comprehension in those deceptively charming baby blues. His smile turns incredulous. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what’s happening here,” he says, his tone taking on a precarious edge. He lets out a breathy, mirthless laugh. “You know, most people in your position would be begging for my attention.”
There it is.
You suck a noise through your teeth, nodding slowly. "Oh, I understand exactly what’s happening here,” you say, shifting your weight like you’re winding up for a pitch. “I know you think you're special because you're famous, or a supe, or both. I know you think I should be grateful that you’d even look at someone like me, but you’re not special, and I’m not grateful. The reality of the matter is I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick–and I can get it without being humiliated at my job.”
The silence in the room is deafening. Homelander looks stupefied, but you decide that you’re not done.
“You're not blessing me by making entitled passes and crude remarks while I'm trying to work. You’re being a nuisance,” you say, your heart beating in your throat. “So please, would you kindly leave?” You ask, voice firm despite the friendlier nature of your phrasing.
Finally, Homelander is the one left gawking. He looks like a fish with the way his mouth keeps opening and closing, but it’s the dismissive, aborted little scoffs he makes in between that really sell his wounded bewilderment. You can see tension lurking just beneath the surface, an anger that skulks in the creak of his leather gloves.
Fear begins to creep up the back of your throat, burning like bile, but you hold steady as he seems to be deciding what he’s going to do with you. The longer the quiet stretches on, your focus entirely on the subtle spasms in his expression, the more sweat begins to prickle at the back of your neck. You refuse to fill the space, you refuse to back down.
For all his power, he’s still just a man.
Eventually, he swallows. “Okie-dokie,” he says, his tone unlike anything you expected. He sounds confused–a little dazed, even. He walks to the door, and after one hesitant look back at you, he leaves.
The door closes with a soft click that still makes you flinch, the sound of it loud in the silence of the room. You blink several times, the abruptness of his departure making the whole encounter feel like some sort of fever dream.
What the fuck just happened?
You’re not special.
The impact of those words struck Homelander’s ears like a loud, painful ringing that follows him as he walks out of your office. He feels off balance, each step leaning slightly to the right.
It’s a ludicrous statement. Objectively wrong. Who in the fucking world could be more special than him? He’s a literal god, and you’re no one. A faceless, nameless cog in Vought’s mechanism that hoists him to the top of it all. That’s your job. To elevate him. Worship him.
Instead you spoke to him as if he were nothing. He could have cut you down where you stood for that. He could have put your head through your office window, snapped your neck, held your skull and burned your eyes out of–
He shakes his head sharply, swaying. He all but stumbles into the bathroom, surprising one of the worker drones washing their hands. “Get out,” Homelander says gruffly.
“Uh, sir–”
“Get the fuck out!” He snaps, startling the man so badly he immediately rushes off, fumbling with the door on his way out. Homelander slams it shut and lets out a ragged breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, then his temples as he paces the bathroom. His reflection taunts him from his peripheral vision.
He hasn’t been able to look himself in the eye since he snapped his Doppelganger’s neck while he knelt before him.
That’s what he wants from you, isn’t it? Mindless desperate praise and worship. Why, then, does the thought od it make his stomach churn so violently he can taste the burn of bile? He tugs compulsively at his suit collar, the press of it against his skin uncharacteristically hot and itchy.
“I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick.”
He shamefully palms himself through his suit, confusingly hard amidst a swirling turbulence of contradicting thoughts and feelings. He could be good for you, too, if you’d fucking let him. He knows he could make you crumble, take apart that carefully constructed demeanor of professionalism and make you see him for what he is. He can prove himself to you. He will prove that you’re wrong about him, and then you’ll show him the love respect he deserves.
Hurriedly, he unzips his pants. His eyelashes flutter as he shoves his hand into them, roughly grabbing hold of his cock. He braces his forearm against the bathroom door and lets his head drop forward, watching his crimson glove pump the leaking head of his dick. His mind bounces between scenarios. He imagines himself in your place, fully on display for you to ogle. He imagines you’re watching him even now, staring him down with that unaffected look of indifference, of irritation, of disgust.
He bites back a whine, gritting his teeth. He wants so badly to imagine his face buried in your soft tits while he fucks the plush space between your thighs, but he knows you won’t let him. Not right away. You’d make him earn it, wouldn’t you? You’d make him watch you please yourself before he ever got so much as a taste.
The glassiness in his eyes begins to sizzle, the moisture burning away as crimson light flares up in them. Would you laugh if you could see him now, or would you scold him for touching himself without your permission?
Homelander comes hard, tipping his head back with a loud moan as he paints the bathroom door with ribbon after ribbon of come. He barely manages not to blow a hole through the ceiling, the light of his eyes flaring and softening in time with each euphoric wave of release. He pants through it, head falling forward and thunking lightly against the door, resting there while he catches his breath.
“Fuck,” he exhales eventually, sighing. He wipes his hand on the wall and then carefully tucks himself back into his pants, his mind swirling hazily on the best high he’s had since…
Clearing his throat, he puts himself back together before leaving the bathroom. Clearly, the thing that he’s been missing is a challenge.
Luckily for him, you’ve kindly volunteered yourself.
( chapter two )
#part two of this fic is mostly finished. i'll probably post it next week!#homelander x reader#homelander#homelander x you#my writing#homelander fanfiction#plus size reader#i've had this in my wips since early december and i just really wanted to get something posted
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Bearhugsandshrugs Update – April '24: Discord, beta reader match ups, WIPs, book writing!
Hey all, it's been a while since I shared an update!
TL;DR: Updates on fics, community things, and my life!
Last time I told you about the book proposal I wrote for my agent, and I managed to complete that and submit it! Even better news was that she liked it. So I will refine parts of the story I wrote to incorporate her feedback, and then in a month or so it'll go out to publishing houses in the hopes that someone buys it! Keep your fingers crossed for me so your girl gets published :)
Admin: Discord Server, Community, Pinned Post
In case you missed it: I launched a discord server where we hangout to talk about Gort and writing. Last week we finished the first writing buddy match up, where I paired six writers with a buddy so they can beta each other's fics. It made me super happy that the community came together in that way!
There will also be a super cool event coming soon that @littleplasticrat came up with, I'll share more on that next week when I have more headspace to give this the hype post it deserves. Just teasing a bit: it does involve Gorty and fashion :3
I also published a new lore & theory masterlist for BG3 and I'm working on compiling the drabbles and headcanon lists, too.
WIPs
In March I already told you that I was moving all WIPs to May, maybe even June. Since I'll be traveling in May, I might or might not have time to work on the WIPs.
Worthy Chapter 3: Structure is drafted. ETA hopefully in May
Folie Chapter 7: I scrapped the entire structure. While I'm motivated to write Raph and Haarlep again, I'm not particularly fond of my original idea so I have to redo the last chapter, ETA probably June
Durgetash series (concept linked) and Raphael series (concept linked): on hold for now. Neither of them grabbed my attention long enough for me to do more with it.
There's one fic/art trade I'm going to write for @tatterings and it's likely either going to be Astarion or monster fucking. So keep an eye out for that.
Series
Both MAD and Gorsimp are continuing! I'm sketching out Act 3 for MAD which we're about to enter. Due to life stuff I changed to posting schedule to every two weeks for MAD, while Gorsimp continues to update 1-2x a week (mostly thanks to @bloodlessbhaalbabe's incredible discipline on keeping us on a schedule).
And in more MAD news, I made a playlist for that fic! Give it a listen if you want to cry.
Other stuff
I'm slowly coming back online after a few really bad months of physical and emotional health turmoil. I'm okay for now and I've been taking care of myself, creating some distance from the fandom to protect my peace of mind, and I'll probably continue to take it slow for a while.
Last time I said I'd do another giveaway when I hit 1k followers. Since I've barely been on I haven't made much progress – it's about 50 followers or so away, but this blog isn't really growing right now. Guess I'm getting a much needed break from taking on too many WIPs :D anyway, I just wanted to say it's still on my mind, but I don't particularly feel the need to promote it because it'll happen when it happens.
Something cool to celebrate in the meantime: Folie à Deux hit over 1,000 kudos on AO3! Crazy to me!!! Thank you all so much. I can't believe that many people pressed the kudos button on my unhinged monster fucking fantasies <3 And to give you a peak behind the curtain here are the non-public stats for that fic:
Last but not least: If you do want to show me some love consider tipping me on Ko-fi? I promise for every coffee you buy me I'll share a pic of that beverage on here or the discord!
Hope you all take care of yourselves!
– Em
#bearhugsandshrugs#pinned#bearhugsandshrugs update#m.a.d.#gorsimp#my writing#worthy#folie a deux#fic writing#bg3 fic
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for you wip Wednesday posts, do you just post as you write? like are the parts all continuous or is there parts between that you don’t post? (sorry if this is dumb, I’m just curious how you do yours:))
okay so (get ready for a long winded explanation of how my writing works sorry in advance)
for wipw, i have sort of a basic outline for plot points and stuff. i know roughly how each of the stories go and how they end. that being said, i have two docs (or more) per au. one with the outline and the other is the draft i'm posting for you guys. like here's the actual docs in my bookmarks (ignore my joke titles okay)
(ID: a screenshot of my Firefox, with a folder of bookmarks showing.)
cutting here because sweet lord this got long
as you can see i've got all my wipw docs in a bookmark folder so i can find them easily. DIH, BB, OG, 🦊, and 🦊WIPW are all writing folders. DIH is a long fic for another fandom. BB stands for 'big bang' and is for all my 'cosmic lost and found' stuff. OG is my ocs stuff :). Fox is anything aftg-related that isn't for wipw. and finally wipw is... wipw.
ALSO 'strips and tags' is the doc where i keep my little 'headings' for wipw posts as well as the tags so i don't have to type that shit everytime! (ex: 'WIP Wednesday (10/25) | Guardian Angel Neil (Part --)'
anyway! i write on them and cut them into chunks for wipw. the size of the 'chunk' each ask gets depends on how well the story flows and if it's a good stopping point. so sometimes it's just a couple paragraphs and sometimes it's almost a full fucking page because i couldn't decide where to chop it?
also usually i like to work a bit ahead so i'm not starting with nothing the next week. so when i don't and i get a lot for a certain au it stresses me out bc i don't know where we're going and i have to come up with it on the fly so i can answer asks??
this is also why i write in order and i could never write bits and pieces here and there all over the timeline like Ash does. it would Stress Me Out sooo bad lol
to answer the actual question: yeah.
for the most part, it's mostly how the final draft will be. but in the final i'll probably flesh out certain bits to make it make sense. like we just Jump into the scene a lot in wipw posts and it makes sense for wipw posts. but it wouldn't in an actual longfic on ao3? you know?
also in angel neil, some of the events are out of order. i never expected people to care about it so much so originally it was gonna be a lotttt shorter so andrew talks to betsy about it right away. i think in the Finished Fic (whenever that will be) he won't mention neil to betsy for a while?? but idk for sure we still have a long ass way to go.
thanks for asking this i'm sorry if you didn't want to read my life story but i don't have anyone to talk about writing with really and also i'm insane and can't just say yes/no i have to EXPLAIN
#anon#answered#diaerie#WIP Wednesday#related anyhow#anyway sorry for rambling i'm embarrased to show yall this but i need u to understand that my brain is not Normal lol#if you're absolutely insane with how you write let me know so i won't feel so stupid lkdgjlkd
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PROGRESS POST
(12/18/23)
If you're interested in what I've done recently, the state of my projects, and what I plan on doing in the new year, read on! :)
By Fandom
Linked Universe Projects
Shatterproof: I have more backstories cooking, and a half-finished fic or two, but that's about it. I plan on updating a story at least once before January
Council (1931 AU): backburner, haven't really had inspiration. Still on my radar though, and it spins through my head on occasion!
Marvelous Misadventures: been plucking away at this! I recently had an epiphany regarding the next part of the plot, so hopefully that gets me more excited to work on it
Considering expanding the coloring pages I made into a whole series, that could be cool
Misc stuff includes a couple half-abandoned oneshots, a few drawing ideas, and a major art project that probably won't happen because I'm trying not to burn myself out 😅
Four Swords Projects
Fairytale AU: recently gained fire for this again. Reread and organized all my existing material, edited the outline, and I desperately want to finish it soon. Hesitantly scheduling for before the new year. Draft currently maybe about 30% of the way, at 8k.
Isekai AU: I don't think I've mentioned this to anyone outside discord, but ta da I'm deep in this. I'm probably 90% done, about 30k. This will be a Christmas fic, I hope!!
Vampire lords AU: rambly vampire plot is going. Somewhat slowly. I've been trying to not overload myself with too much, so this has been demoted slightly. :) Bite fics happen spontaneously, though, and there might be another coming.
Rinthia AU: my original world, the one seen in Nothing New Under the Sun. This is kind of a passing thought, definitely in planning stages, but I would kind of like to expand this—see where the other characters are, give y'all some answers, because the answers are there
Non-fandom
I want to do more traditional art, graphite and watercolors mostly, and that usually means using photos or life instead of fandom stuff. Makes it a bit less exciting, but maybe I can find a way of doing that. I miss my lil oil paint studio area but I can work with what I have
I'm crafting a few Christmas presents instead of buying them because I do not have much money. That is something I need to spend like, this next week doing
Sanderson merch: I have a goal of getting a booth at Dragonsteel next December, and selling some small souvenir stuff. My plans involve making more pins (I ordered a couple already, and they're very nice), drawing some coloring pages, and maybe advertising here a little once I actually have some stuff I'm proud of up. This will ideally take a year to get together, though, so no rush.
By Month
November
I spent most of November working on The Worst Thing About Earth, kind of an impulse fic that spiraled out of control. I think I burned myself out a little on this, so I've been taking it slowly. Trying to, anyway.
December
So far, I've mostly worked on holiday gift exchanges and some backburner stuff. Like I said, I've been taking it kind of gently. I plan on finishing the FS isekai AU this month, and getting most of the way through the fairytale AU. Getting those off my plate will free me up to think about other things, I think. I also plan on maybe one more bite fic and one more LU disability AU thing before the new year.
January On
I'm not sure what the next month will bring! Ideally, I'll be wrapping up the fairytale AU and intermittently posting a few little things. I'm hoping to return to a couple of my older projects soon, mostly Marvelous Misadventures, because I've left that thing unfinished for LONG ENOUGH.
This next year, I want to try to devote more time to doing things for myself that aren't fandom things. I'd like to reread Stormlight Archive before #5 comes out in December, play more video games, and do more painting. I would like to establish a better habit of making and eating food. I want to play board games a little more often.
Still, the muse can be fickle, and as you probably know by now, I am very good at chasing my inspiration!!
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"Spring Break '86" *Chapter 14*
Chapter 15
Chapter 13
ALRIGHT GUYS, this is it.
This is the last chapter before Part 2. And I've already changed the ending. Lulz.
I said this in another post, i really don't know what's gonna happen over the weekend.
If Eddie dies [god forbid] in Vol 2, i don't know how i'll react. It might fuel me to make this the best damn fix-it-fic of all time, or it might throw me in a spiral of despair, unable to finish this.
No no, i'm kidding. Mostly. I will finish this no matter what, but if he does it might take me a few days to recover.
SO I posted this today because either way, it will probably be about a week before you get the next chapter. I'm sorry, please don't leave me in that time!
I'm also sorry this chapter isn't super long, but I was running out of plot leading up to the ending of Vol 1 , and I didn't wanna just start writing bullshit to fill up pages. That's not fair to anyone.
SO, here we are. I hope you all enjoy my interpretation of the ending, even though I flipped who gets stuck in the UD.
Which honestly shouldn't be that different because all the trailers we've seen she's been FINE, so obviously she gets out of the UD pretty fast.
Oh PS-- Per usual, i highly recommend listening to this song before/after/during your reading. I cannot believe I didn't use this song earlier, it's so fucking accurate.
But better late than never, right?
PPS--- Okay like 3 or 4 screen names don't work in my tag list. If they are yours, please tell me what I did wrong. Otherwise i'll give the spots to other people.
Alright here we go!
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You and Eddie had decided to head off towards the direction of his trailer, whether or not you’d make it. At least you had each other.
“....You find it weird Vecna hasn’t said anything to us lately?” you asked him.
“What are you doing?!” Eddie hissed as his eyes darted around frantically. “He could hear you!”
“Baby,” you gave him a look. “He can hear us no matter what, and he hasn’t said shit, like I said!”
“Still,” he took your hands and continued to walk with you down the streets of Upside Down Hawkins.
“But seriously!” “What else has got his attention?!” You asked again, looking up to the sky.
“Can we maybe not, think about the monster that’s going to kill us all right now? Focus on us?”
“Us?” You gave him a surprised smile. “There’s an ‘us’?”
“Are you for real right now, Princess?” he laughed sarcastically.
“Well, you never exactly asked me to be your girlfriend, Munson,” you teased him with a tongued smile.
“I proposed!” He reminded you.
“Almost proposed,” you clarified.
“I gave you a fuckin’ ring, Y/N,” He held up your hand, but the ring was gone. “What the--?”
“Oh my god,” You gasped, immediately looking around. “Oh my god, no--”
“Babe I’m pretty sure it’s long gone by now,” He put a hand on your shoulder. “Think about all the shit we’ve been through in the last two days,”
“Oh god,” you whimpered, realizing he was right. You stopped looking around and looked at him apologetically. “I’m so sorry Eddie,”
“Hey, don’t be,” he pulled you into a tight hug, your head up against his chest. “It’s not your fault,”
“It was your favorite though!” you cried upseteddly.
“Nahhhh, it definitely wasn’t,” he shook his head with a smile, holding out his right hand. “THIS is my favorite,”
You recognized it immediately.
“Eddie…” you bit your lip. “Y-You still have that?”
“Are you kiddin’?” He laughs, kissing the top of your forehead. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten,”
-------------
Eddie’s 14th Birthday
“....Happy birthday dear Eddie, happy birthday to you!”
“And many mooooreee,” you added with a giant flourish.
“God be more lame, please,” Eddie blushes as he looks around the diner, making sure no one heard your god-awful singing.
“Shut up and blow out your candles before you get wax on those pancakes!” you hit him softly.
Two candles on a stack of pancakes wasn’t ideal for a birthday cake, but Eddie appreciated any effort you gave him. God knows no one else did. Eddie sighed and blew out the candles, to which you promptly started loudly cheering and clapping.
“Yaaaay!!!” you giggle as Eddie shoots daggers at you for making such a show of yourself.
“I hate you,” he grumbled.
“You love me,” you teased, but both of you stopped as soon as the words left your lips. You just stared at each other while Eddie tried to suss out how serious you were being, and you were mentally kicking yourself for even joking about it.
“...Anyway,” he coughed awkwardly as he cut himself a bite of pancake. “You really didn’t have to do this, Y/N,”
“Well of course I did Eddie,” you began cutting yourself your own piece. “It’s the last birthday I’ll have a chance to,”
“You act like I’m going off to war, Princess,” He chuckled as he stuffed his face with pancakes.
“High school is war Eddie,” you held out your fork making a point. “Everyone knows that,”
“Right,” he rolled his eyes.
“Shut up and open your present,” you took a small box from your purse and placed it on the table, sliding it towards him.
“...I thought this was the present,” He gestures arounds the booth that had been decked out with balloons and streamers, and the Pan “Birthday” Cake.
“Uh no, this is the party doofus,” you shook your head.
“Some party Princess,” he gestures around the empty booth.
“Well I can’t help it that people find you weird,” You pulled
“US weird,”
“Oh people like me fine,” you teased. “It’s just you,”
“...Right,” he nodded with a small, soft laugh. “Well, I guess you’ll have a hell of a good time next year without me then, huh?”
“Eddie,” you held out your hand, realizing you had stuck your foot in your mouth. “I didn’t mean it like--”
“Yeah I know,” he shrugged it off as he took the box from you. “So, what’s this? It’s pretty small. Spend too much money on the party--??”
He stops teasing you when he pulls out the ring. It shines brightly, reflecting the glow of the fluorescent lights of the diner. He looks at it for several seconds before speaking, just admiring it.
“....You don’t like it,” You said softly.
“W-What?” He’s knocked from his trance. “No, I-I love it,”
“Oh don’t patronize me Eddie--” You started to take it back.
“No,” he grabs both of your hands, making you look at him. He looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him; he even looks like he might cry.
“I love it, Y/N, It’s…it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever gotten me,” he could barely whisper, refusing to cry in public.
“Really?” you bit your lip, doing your absolute damndest not to look at his lips at that moment. His hands holding yours with that look on his face, it felt like the most intimate situation you two had ever been in since you’d known him.
“Really,” he rubs the tops of your hands with his thumbs, the ring already on his finger. “It’s like an elvish ring,”
“Um….okay,” you smiled nervously, not understanding what he was saying, but not caring as long as your hands were in his.
You two just sat there in that booth, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes.
“Eddie, I um--” This was it, you were going to tell him how you really felt. How you’d always felt.
“Yeah…?” His eyes widened a bit, hoping you were going to make this the most perfect birthday by saying the words he’d waited to hear his whole life.
“I--”
“Y/N!!!” All of a sudden your little brother was calling your name. Eddie instantly dropped your hands and stuffed them back under the table.
“Shit,” you muttered as a ten year old Dustin came running up to the table.
“Did you forget you were supposed to take me to the arcade or what?” Dustin whined. “I’m tired of sitting over there by myself,”
“Dammit Dustin!!” you snapped at him. His eyes instantly went to those huge puppy dog size, big crocodile tears forming in his eyes.
“....I’m sorry,” you sighed, ruffling his hair before giving Eddie an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Eds. I need to--”
“Yeah, yeah sure I get it,” he nodded in understanding, nodding at your brother. “Sup Dust?”
“Yeah,” Dustin nodded back at him awkwardly. They didn’t really know each other yet.
“Alright you, let’s go,”
You scooted out of the booth and took your brother’s hand, giving one last longing look at Eddie
who was now admiring his ring with a huge smile.
------------
“I should’ve said something then,” you sighed, running your hands through your hair.
“Why are you doing this, Y/N?” Eddie asked you seriously.
“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed.
“Why are you forcing these trips down memory lane, when you know they all lead to the same place?” he elaborated.
“What are you--”
“You realize what all your little ‘memories’ have in common?” He snapped. “They’re all moments where we came ‘this’ close to being together, but inevitably one of us chickens out, or gets interrupted, or something else!”
“Well yeah but--”
“I don’t wanna look back at that!” He kicked a rock angrily. “I don’t wanna focus on the fact that we could’ve been together so much longer, that we wasted all this time,”
“Eddie--”
“No!” He shakes his head as he grabs your face. “What matters is that we know now. That we’re together now. That I love you, now,”
“Oh just now?” you half laugh, trying to ease the tension.
“You know what i mean, Y/N” he gave you a look.
“Yeah, I know…” you looked down as you played with your fingers.
“So what are you doing, huh?” he asked again.
“I don’t--” you looked up at him, confused.
“You wanna know what I think?” He answered his own question.
“I know you’re gonna tell me--”
“I think you wanna bring these up so you can ‘atone’,” he accused. “You think that one of us or both of us is gonna die, and you wanna apologize and get everything off your chest before we do,”
“Eddie…”
“And I’m not accepting that, do you hear me?” He moved his hands to your face. “I’m not letting you give up on me, not now. We’re not rolling over and accepting death. We’re gonna go make it to this portal and get the fuck out of here,”
“Baby…”
“No!” He pressed his forehead against yours. “Knock it the fuck off,”
“Okay okay,” you put your hands on his face now, trying to calm him down.
“Good,” he sighed as you moved your hands to his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.
“So, what now?” you asked into his t-shirt.
“Whaddya mean ‘what now’?” He rolled his eyes at the question, stroking your hair while your face remained on his chest.
“Well what are we gonna talk about now, goof?” You shook your head with a laugh as you started to pull him along, resuming your journey.
“Hmmmm, well--” He pretended to think. “Let’s talk about the future, y’know when we get out of here, which we will,”
“Oh?” You smiled in amusement. “Thought you didn’t wanna talk about our imaginary kids,”
“Okay we don’t have to go that far,”he blushed. “ Just like…y’know, after all of this,”
“You mean, next week?” you clarified warily.
“....Maybe…” his voice sank, the reality of your situation sinking in. Even if you did both survive this, Vecna, the world ending; you still had to deal with the fact that technically you lived almost 200 miles away from each other.
“I don’t…” you played with his fingers interlaced with yours as you walked. “I don’t know…”
“Yes you do,” he nodded his head sadly. “You have to go back to school,”
“Well, yeah obviously,” you half laughed.
“And you’ll just forget about me again, and I’ll see you when you graduate,” he added in a mopey tone.
“Seriously, Eddie?” You dropped his hand and stopped walking. “You really think--”
“Well what else are you gonna do, huh Y/N?” he was suddenly getting very defensive, suddenly feeling as if walls were closing in on him.
“Okay first you don’t want me to start ‘atoning’ for mistakes, and now you’re accusing me of making more before they even happen?!” you had to laugh at the situation, it was ridiculous.
“No, but--”
“For fuck’s sake Eddie, I almost died for you! You really think I’m just gonna go home next week and forget the love of my life?” you gestured to your leg for emphasis.
“I just--”
“I love you, Eddie Munso,” you pulled him close to you, stepping on a curb to be taller. “I love you, and I’m never letting you go again, do you hear me?”
“Yeah…” he nodded softly.
“It’s me and you, okay?” You tugged on his shirt. “This is it,”
“Alright so what do you think is gonna happen?” he challenged you, not fully accepting your cookie cutter solution.
“Well,” you pulled him on the curb as you started to walk again. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“To Chicago?” he laughed. “How am I gonna do that, if I’m in my millionth senior year?”
“You realize there are things called GED’s, right babe?” you asked.
“Yeah, you think I don't know that?” he grumbled. “But I don’t wanna just give up,”
“Seriously?” You half laughed. “You’d rather sit here in Hawkins for another three months to prove something to people? You?”
“Well, why not?!” he argued. “You don’t think I deserve to walk across that stage and flip off the principal?”
“Eddie,” you rolled your eyes. “Come on,”
“Come on what?!” he threw his hands up.
“Why do you need to--”
“Because everyone in this town thinks that I can’t do this, and I wanna prove them wrong!” He gestured wildly.
“Just now, all of a sudden?” you didn’t mean to laugh, but the thought was idiotic to you.
“Excuse me?” he looked at you seriously offended.a
“Eddie you’ve been there three years longer than you’re supposed to be,” You half laughed. “Why now all of a sudden is it so--”
“Wow,” he scoffed with a hurt laugh. “Wow, okay,”
“Eddie come on--” you reached for him but he jerked away.
“NO,” He shouted. “I just want--”
“Why does it matter what anyone else thinks about you but me?” you exclaimed in distress.
“Because you weren't around, Y/N!” he barked back.
“Wha--”
“I spent years trying to not care about what you thought of me, d’ya get that?” He laughed tearfully. “I spent years trying to downplay the shit you and your sheeple friends would say about me, do to me,” His blood began to boil just thinking about it.
“So excuse me if your opinion isn’t going to be the ‘only one that matters’!” he sputters angrily.
“Eddie, I--”
“Y’know, honestly at this point your brother’s opinion should matter to me more than yours does!” he cut you off. “He’s been nothing but nice to me, hell he admires the shit out of me! Shouldn’t you want me to impress him? Set a good example to him by walking across that stage, not giving up?”
“Oh yeah, Eddie,” you laughed. “I really think you flipping off the principal after a lifetime of senior years is a great example--”
“SHUT UP!!!” He screamed, causing you to flinch.
“Eddie--”
All Eddie could focus on in that moment was how condescending you were being. Telling him he was wrong, like you always did. Like how you always had. Like you always would be, until the day he died.
“No, this is always what it comes down to, Princess,” he wasn’t backing down this time. “You think you’re better than me. You will always think you’re better than me. No matter what I do, or say, or how much you claim to love me, that will be always be true,”
“No it won’t!” you protested.
“Yes it will!” He started to walk away from you. “We’re never gonna be on equal ground in your mind, ever,”
“This isn’t you,” you trailed after him. “You know I’m not like that, not really,”
“Maybe I do, and I’ve just been pretending you’re not because I was so idiotically happy that you finally seemed to feel the way that I have,”
“That is so ridiculous--” you dismissed his thought.
“SEE?” He raised his voice again. “You’re still doing it!”
“Eddie you’re ridiculous,” he mocked you. “Eddie that’s stupid. Eddie you’re a fucking moron!”
“I’m not saying that,” You jogged quickly to catch up to him and stopped him. “I’m saying listen to yourself: Two minutes ago you got pissed that I kept dragging up memories that I felt bad about. You got mad for me trying to-- atone, or whatever,”
Eddie looked away, trying not to accept what you were saying.
“And now I think I'm better than you? Th-That all of this has been some kind of sick prank? Like I have been risking my life for the past two days to just-- what, make you feel like a moron?”
Eddie knew you were right, deep down he knew that. But for some reason all he could think about was how cruel you had been to him in High School, how you had always been too good for him. That none of this was real.
“I don’t wanna do this anymore--” He shoved past you and kept walking.
You knew what you had to do-- you knew this wasn’t Eddie This was Vecna, finally getting to him. It made sense since he had connected with him earlier, now he had a hold on him. But what were you going to do? You didn’t exactly have a band, or a record player. And you wondered if the same song would work on two people.
Then you had an idea.
“I can’t fight this feeling any longer…” you started to softly sing, making Eddie stop in his tracks.
“And yet I’m still afraid to let it show.” You kept singing, tears choking your throat as you mentally willed him to turn and look at you.
“What started out as friendship has grown stronger…” you started walking towards him. “I only wish I had the strength to let it show,”
The lyrics were so hauntingly accurate, you knew this could probably be your song. It was your song. And it was the song that was going to bring him back to you.
“I tell myself that i can’t hold out forever,” you walked closer, he still refused to look at you. “I said there is no reason for my fear,”
“Yeah right,” Eddie mumbled with a sad laugh, Vecna’s voice still in his ears.
“Because I feel so secure when we’re together,” you were approaching him closely now, taking his hand softly as you stepped in front of him.
“You give my life direction, you make everything so clear…”
Eddie felt his anger shifting as he saw the sincerity in your eyes and truth in your words.
“And even as I wander, I’m keeping you in sight,” he felt himself singing softly back to you, thinking about all the years you had lost. The years you were so close yet so far from each other. And deep down he knew he had never given up on you, not for one second.
“You’re a candle in the window, on a cold dark winter’s night,” you took both hands in his now, sincerely meaning the words you were singing.
He had always been a beacon to you, even when you had tried to deny it. He had always been there in the back of your mind, keeping you from ever being truly as awful as the rest of your ‘sheeple’ friends.
“And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might…” you both sang together, holding tightly to each other’s hands now.
God this song would’ve been so perfect to actually admit your feelings to one another before all of this bullshit had gone down. You could have stood up at your graduation and sang it to him. Hell, you could have stood up at any dance or school function and sang this to him. You could have announced to the world that you, Y/N, captain of the cheer squad, valedictorian, all american girl, were in love with Eddie Munson, the ‘freak’.
“And I can't fight this feeling anymore. I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for,”
You couldn’t believe how stupid you had been, trying to fight your feelings for him. For not fighting for him, for you, for the two of you. Why you hadn’t just said what you were really feeling, telling them to go to hell. But you were saying it now, and you were saying it to fight for him. Fighting for him against something far more nefarious than a bunch of white-bread Americana sheeple.
You took his face in your hands, looking deep into his chocolate brown eyes as you sang the last line of the chorus, needing him to hear you more than ever.
“And if I have to crawl across your floor, come crashing through your door. Baby I can’t fight this feeling anymore,”
WIth those words, Vecna’s hold on Eddie was relinquished. He grabbed your face in his hands now and pulled you into a long, luxurious, kiss. You both stood there for a while just exploring each other’s mouths, being taken back to the moment you had kissed for the first time.
When you both had been so relieved to see the other alive, knowing how you felt about each other. When your lips had finally cascaded against one another after almost a decade of wanting, waiting, yearning.
And now here you were again, all of those feelings coming back at once. It was as if you started again, feeling like you had almost lost him in those five minutes Vecna had a hold on him.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours as tears dripped down his cheeks, his mind clear of any bad thoughts.
“No, I'm sorry,” you shook your head with your own tears falling down. “If I hadn’t made you feel that way Vecna wouldn’t have anything to hold onto,”
“You do whatever you feel you need to do, Eddie,” you went on.
“I just-- I can’t stand the thought of leaving you here again, not for any reason or any amount of time. I just want-- need, us to be together as much as we possibly can, because I lost so much time with you and I don’t wanna lose any amount of time with you, ever, ever again,”
“I know, i know,” he pulled you closer as you cried into his chest.
“And I want to stay here with you, I do. I just--” You cried.
“No,” he pulled you back to face him.
“No, don’t you think for one second of just-- dropping out, to stay here with me. That is the absolute one thing I have dreaded about us being together, me holding you back,”
“You don’t--” you put a hand to his face.
“Maybe not now, but if you do that it will actually be true, yeah?” He gave you a sad smile. “So you-- you do what you have to do, and I’ll do the same. And we’ll--”
“I’ll come back for you, Eddie,” You cut him off, knowing he was having his doubts. “I swear to God, as soon as school ends I will be right back here,”
“Hopefully not here,” he joked, gesturing around you.
“You know what i mean,” you hit him lightly.
“Yeah, I do, Princess,” he smiled, kissing you again. “And who knows, maybe this summer I might just come to you, being a free man and all,”
“I love you, Eddie,”
“I love you too, Y/N,” He smiled, kissing you once again. “Now let’s get the hell out of here,”
-----
Eddie’s Trailer
Dustin, Max, and Lucas all paced around Eddie’s living room, the gaping portal hole in the middle of all of them.
“Where are they?” Dustin worried out loud.
“I mean, they were walking on foot Dustin,”
“But still,” he paced unnervingly. “I just want them--”
Suddenly sounds of running and chattering interrupted his thought. All three of them looked down to see Nancy, Steve and Robin running to the opening in the ceiling.
“Where is Y/N and Eddie?” Dustin immediately noticed his sister was missing.
The three of them looked at each other awkwardly, trying to figure out what exactly to say to him, and who would say it.
“Dust…” Steve stepped up, knowing him the best out of the three of them.
“No,” Dustin shook his head, refusing to hear whatever he was about to say. “No, don’t say it,”
“She didn’t…” Steve tried again.
“Shut up,” Dustin spoke over him.
“She didn’t make it,” He finished.
“Yeah I think that was obvious, Steve,” Robin hit him lightly.
“But what about Eddie?” Lucas asked.
“He uh,” Steve looked at the two girls. “He wanted to stay with her--”
“Stay with her?!” Max gasped out of nowhere. “He wanted to stay with a dead body?!”
“MAX!!!!” Lucas hit her violently, gesturing to Dustin who was silently imploding, trying to take everything everyone was saying in.
“So you’re telling me I’ve lost my sister, and my best friend--?” Dustin stammered.
“I’m not your best friend?” Steve blurted out.
“REALLY, Steve?” Max scoffed.
“...It just came out,” He muttered, embarrassed.
“NOT the point!” Dustin yelled.
“You just let him stay there with-- with Y/N?” He couldn’t bear to refer to you as just a body.
He was dying inside, trying like hell to keep it together. You were more of a best friend to anyone in the vicinity at that moment. You had been his first friend, his big sister. You taught him everything. His ABC’s, how to count, what made the perfect burger and pizza, which ice creams were good and which were downright toxic.
He had waited for what seemed like forever for you to come home from Chicago, wanting to ask you about girls. He knew you’d be reluctant, but he wanted to tell you all about Suzy. You had been the first person he wanted to tell in the first place. But when he called your dorm the person who answered said you were out, and then never gave you the message.
He had felt the two of you growing apart since you had left, and it would have killed him if he hadn’t been so busy with the literal apocalypse happening every other minute of the day. He wanted to keep you from it, from all of this. For this exact reason. He didn’t want you involved because he couldn’t lose you, and now his worst nightmare had happened.
“We tried to--” Robin tried to explain to Dustin how they had pleaded with Eddie to come with them while he lay there sobbing, holding your ‘dead’ body. His anguished cries were forever burned into her brain as they tried dragging him away from you.
He was bigger than all of them, even an inch or two on Steve, so he had easily ripped away from their grasp and ran back to your side, cradling you in his arms. She had finally been the one to beg Nancy and Steve to just let him be. She couldn’t take hearing him cry anymore, it was too tortuous.
“Dustin we really tried to--” Robin tried telling him.
“No,” he stopped them, moving away from the hole. “No I don’t wanna hear anymore, do you hear me?!”
“Okay can we just focus on getting the rest of us out of here, please?” Nancy had enough of all of the drama. She just wanted to be back in the real world.
“Jesus Nancy, way to be empathetic,” Robin scoffed under her breath.
“I’m sorry!” She threw her hands up. “I’m sorry I’m tired of being in this god-forsaken place. I’m sorry if I'm a tad anxious when I’m literally steps away from freedom!”
“Alright alright,” Steve put his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down. “Okay, we’re getting out okay?”
“Thank you,” she mumbled, rubbing his hands on her shoulder.
“Do you have something to get us out guys?” Steve asked the kids.
“Yeah,” Lucas grabbed the ‘rope’’ Dustin had made since Dustin was busy having a crisis over you and Eddie.
He threw it up into the ceiling, and to their shock and amazement it stuck. In the Upside Down, he had thrown it ‘down’ to the group for them to climb.
“That is so trippy!” Robin gasped. “Okay who’s first?”
“Ladies first,”
“Nance,” Robin pointed at her.
“Thank you,” She smiled gratefully as she pulled herself up the rope and into Eddie’s living room, crashing onto the mattress they had put in front of the hole.
“Alright Robin, c’mere,” Steve nodded to her as she followed Nancy.
--------
Meanwhile
You and Eddie were reaching the entrance to the Trailer Park, when you saw the portal and the group starting to go through it.
“Shit,” Eddie muttered. He didn’t waste any time grabbing your hand and sprinting towards the portal. “Let’s go baby, let’s go!”
You were practically howling in pain as Eddie pulled you through the park, your leg throbbing in pain. BUt you did your best to keep up with him, lest he drop you and leave you there. Though you knew he’d never actually do that.
“HEY! GUYS! WAIT UP!” Eddie screamed across the park, hoping to get their attention.
-------
At The Portal
Steve was about to head up the rope when they all heard Eddie screaming. Even Dustin could hear it from across the trailer. He leaped up off the couch and ran to the portal.
“Steve!” He yelled. “Steve who was that?!”
“It’s Eddie,” Steve answered in disbelief, staring at the two of you racing towards them. “...And Y/N!”
“She’s alive?!” Dustin began to cry happy tears, he didn't care who saw them. You were alive.
“She’s alive!” Steve smiled up at him. “And they’re coming! They’re gonna make it!”
“Thank God,” Dustin breathed a sigh of relief, wiping his tears away.
----------
You and Eddie were still almost to the portal where Steve was yelling encouraging words to you both.
“Come on guys, you can do it!” He called.
You could hear your brother yelling for you, tears in his voice. “Y/N!! Y/N I’m here!!!!”
You began to smile at Eddie, who was thinking the same thing: You were gonna make it out of here. Together.
You were so elated in thinking about getting out of there you didn’t notice a rock in your path. You tripped on it just before reaching Steve, sending you sailing on top of it, banging your head against it. It knocked you out cold.
Eddie had the inertia of still running when you toppled over the rock, releasing your hand from his grapes unintentionally as he stoped a few feet away from you.
“Shit!” He began to panic, about to run to your side. But something stopped him.
Before he could make a move, Vecna appeared in front of him, blocking your unconscious body from his view.
“I don’t think so,” He wagged a finger.
Everyone gasped and gaped in horror as they watched Vecna physically pick up your body and throw it over his veiny shoulder.
“You tell Eleven if any of you want to see your friend alive, she’ll come to me,” He smirked.
“What the--” Eddie began to panic, looking at Steve and up at his friends, then back to Vecna.
“We don’t know how to find her!!!” Dustin screamed down to Vecna.
“Well, you’d better pray you figure out a way,” He chuckled darkly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Y/N and I need to get better acquainted,”
He ran a gray finger down your thigh, smelling you with a perverted smirk.
“You SON OF A---” Eddie started to make a run at him, but Steve held him back as hard as he could.
“Don’t you fucking TOCH HER!!!” He screamed, angry tears stinging his eyes.
His cries fell on deaf ears, as Vecna began to float back up into the sky with a mighty evil laugh, disappearing into the red horizon.
‘What just--” Dustin looked down at Steve and Eddie. “What just happened?”
How were they going to save you now?
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#eddie x you#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x you angst#protect eddie munson#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things 4#stranger things#spring break 86#Spotify
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20 questions for fic writers
tagged by @zannolin. Not tagging anyone but never let that stop you from doing something.
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
98 (100 by early next week. the wonders of posting two short stories a week)
2. What's your total A03 word count?
274,925 (over 100,000 from works posted this year. Again, the wonders of posting two little things every week)
3. What fandoms do you write for?
The exhaustive list (but only what I've posted to public places), in no particular order
The Transformers
Brave Police (Mostly just a beta reader on that one, though)
Marvel Cinematic Universe
Star Trek/Enterprise
The Expanse
Inheritance Cycle
Torchwood
Rowland Sinclair Series (by Sulari Gentill - yes, I will encourage you to read/listen to the series! Also, the smallest fandom for which I write, ie. I created the tags and it's basically mine to control. Gosh, I should really finish my current WIP so the characters don't feel abandoned.)
Redwall (technically, the only things I've posted in a podfic of someone else's story)
Sherlock Holms
Temeraire
Detroit: Become Human
Beyonders (Another WIP I should finish so I can once again say I own more than 10% of the fandom)
Rings of Power (I'll separate it from the works that Tolkien was actually involved in)
Lord of the Rings/The Silmarillion (the source of the 2 stories per week)
-I sure hope that's everything-
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
In order of greatest to least
It Started With A Fever (Detroit: Become Human)
Interruptions (Transformers)
Checking Samples In Real Time (Detroit: Become Human)
Dawson's Christiana (Temeraire)
Scavenging More Than Parts (Transformers)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I respond to every comment. Why? Because I like it when authors respond to my comments and I want readers to know that I see and appreciate that they not only took time to read my story but also to say something kind about it.
Admittedly, I am sometimes very late to responding when I'm busy or the comment left me very flustered (because how do I adequately convey how wonderful the reader made me feel?)
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Probably, It Started With A Fever. It's a sickfic and the sick character isn't better by the end but there is a plan for diagnostic testing and treatment. So, more open ending than angsty.
Actually, I looked back and realized that Spy in the DMD (Transformers) is angsty because readers don't know what will happen to the characters at the end (live? die? etc). Yeah, so that's probably my angstiest ending.
Though now that I'm thinking about it, Negligence (Silmarillion) is also a but angsty and certainly more likely to actually get people to have feeling over the characters and want a good ending than Spy in the DMD.
Okay, okay, I'll stop thinking about it and just move on (but Dawson's Christiana is--)
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Home (Inheritance). Ok also a little angsty, but the entire purpose is saving a character who died in canon and at the end he finally gets to go home with his best friend, even if he isn't totally healed from everything.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Nope. Most I've had is someone taking the time to comment about how they disagree with the premise of a story/how I interpreted why the directors/designers of a TV show did what they did.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Awkward smut? Like, I've only written it a little so it's probably still pretty clunky for people to read.
But in all seriousness, I write enthusiastically consensual slash and het smut. Basically, I want everyone to be happy and have a good time while I use them as writing guinea pigs. I'm sure that the more I write, the more I'll branch out into trying various things.
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
I have not written a crossover (beyond crossovers between various series/universes in the Transformers franchise. Does that count? Like, it's canonically established that that's a thing that can happen).
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Nope (when your writing is only so-so, you fly under a lot of radars)
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Nope again (see above)
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I am a co-author on two stories (Transformers and Brave Police). For both of those, I was mostly just a beta reader but I did end up writing 2 chapters for the Transformers story when the author wanted a different POV (most of the story was first person and then I did more of an omnipresent third person).
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
Across all fandoms? That's actually very hard. I'm not a huge ship person, like, let everyone be with whoever they want to be with. BUT, if we're going based on ships I've written and that I enjoy writing, Celebrían x [loving and devoted person, usually Elrond] is pretty high up there (Silmarillion). It's good soup.
But also, Carn x consequences of his actions and pinning for Roran is near and dear to my heart (Inheritance).
15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
The sequel to It Started With A Fever. I would love to explore how my medical and scientific training could fit with android diagnostics/medicine, and you know I love me some good angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending. However, I just don't really see it happening because of how much work it will require and the fact that I'm not even reading fics in that fandom now and have my writing time filled to bursting with LOTR/Silm stuff.
16. What are your writing strengths?
I'm reasonably good with grammar? Like, I passed all my English courses and writing classes? I write what I want to read so at least one (1) person enjoys it.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I spend too much time working out exactly how I want to say something and end up not actually writing very much. I'm not very confidence with figurative language, so my writing tends to be quite straightforward and literal (which isn't bad, but I WANT to use more figurative language). Editing, my nemesis.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I'm not opposed to it and I've seen it done very well with non-sense languages from Transformers. If someone does it, I prefer that the narration indicates at least the general idea/mood of what was said so that I don't have to translate it. Also, it feels clunky when the author just writes the direct translation after what is said (if it's important enough that you want the readers to know exactly what is said, why are you using a different language in the first place?).
So, that's my two cents.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Publicly? Transformers.
But way back in the distant years of my youth, before I knew what fanfiction was, I did a lot of fanfiction and story planning for Redwall.
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
I am very proud of It Started With A Fever. I put a lot of time into writing the story and even worked with a wonderful beta reader. In the end, I think it really improved my capacity as an author.
On the other hand, I love Home because I SAVED CARN!!! My sweet, pathetic little spellcaster who gave it his best and had a death that was at both times thematically appropriate and sadder the longer I thought about it. *gently hugs him so he doesn't break before passing him back to Katrina and Roran*
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keeper aro week qpr (part 1!!)
local tumblrina starts fic ri knows full well is going to be in the 4-10K range and then proceeds to act shocked when they can't finish it in less than a week, more at seven
notes: I wanted to get part of this out while the week is still technically on, so here we are! it's still technically a one-shot, so I'll post the whole thing on ao3 when it's fully finished (... whenever that ends up being). anyway i love keefe's pov he's such a sad, silly little guy. what we have here is a soulmate au with some childhood friends and a dash of angst thrown into the mix. much thanks to @xanadaus and @gay-otlc for hosting :)
~
The first time someone tells Keefe about soulmates, he nods as if he understands and turns back to assessing how to sample the platters of absurdly decorated sweets when he still can’t reach the tops of the white-clothed tables. It isn’t one of his parents, just some family friend who fancies themself good with children.
It would have been hard to entirely avoid the idea thus far—his parents flaunt their status tastefully, the only sign being the careful designs on each of their ring fingers, intricate enough to emphasize that a tattoo could never fake such a bond. Stray marks have appeared on his own skin from time to time. He can never be sure whether they’re his or not, as they’re the same clumsy evidence of a kid experimenting with colors, shaky-handed and wandering.
But it’s the first real explanation he’s ever gotten. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s disappointing.
The woman continues. She should be able to tell she’s unwanted. “It means you’re meant to be with someone,” she explains. “It means you’re going to be in love forever. It’s destiny. And it’s what tells us that any children the union produces will be absolutely perfect.”
Keefe’s pretty sure she’s wrong. He knows he’s seen couples who couldn’t possibly have kids with the same colors splayed across their bodies, but maybe they really are just tattoos like his father always claims. That seems like a lot of trouble to go through for a lot of nothing. He doesn’t think he’ll ever love even his soulmate, so why pretend to have that with anybody? But then again, maybe it’s impossible to love anyone else. Maybe that’s why people delude themselves.
He squints across the room. The area around one of the dessert tables has vacated, and it’s right by the stairs up into the rest of his house. That’ll work well enough. “I’m not feeling so well,” he says, and makes as if to leave. The woman follows him, because of course she does.
By the time he reaches the other side of the suffocating party, he’s pretty sure he’s done a good enough job of holding his breath to make his face pale. He sways in place, carefully timing his dizziness so he can pretend to go down when someone jostles him and grip onto that stupid white tablecloth. His weight brings the dishes crashing down.
A hundred-odd gazes land directly on him. With one hand, he stuffs as many sweets as he can find into his pockets and puts on a show of tired confusion. The annoying woman rushes to his side. At least she’ll probably help head off his parents.
The treats, he finds later, are more decoration than food with their cloying tastes against his tongue.
~
Though there has always been a house next door, with two children Keefe will see very occasionally in their yard, mostly he’s alone in the towering five stories of his home. It’s especially silent in the afternoons, when he’s been dropped off from school.
His father works, and while his mother doesn’t she still manages to be gone more often than not. He’d ask them for a sibling if he was under the delusion that they liked children. He knows better.
No matter how much noise he makes, Keefe can’t break the quiet. He certainly tries. He runs through the hallways and slides down the banisters, banging makeshift pot and pan cymbals. There isn’t much to do in his house. Nothing in it is built for children. He draws, of course, but he isn’t built for being still and there’s only so long most acceptable activities can keep his attention.
So when the weather permits, and often when it doesn’t, he whiles away his days outside. His pride and joy is the treehouse tucked back in the yard so it can’t be seen from the street. It isn’t like the treehouses he sees on TV, with a slide or swings, or even like the ones some of his friends boast, achingly home-made with their messy wood planks. His is carefully built with sturdy slats of oak. It’s all polished. He takes his markers out to draw on the walls. On the days when he falls asleep out there, wrapped in a woolen blanket, his parents say nothing. It suits him fine.
Then one day there’s a boy in the treehouse. He sits primly, back straight, the way Keefe’s father always tells him to. He doesn’t startle or even look ashamed at Keefe’s entrance. There’s a game of solitaire laid out in front of him.
Keefe doesn’t take the time to think through what he’s going to say. “What are you doing here?”
“If my parents can’t find me, they’ll leave without me,” the boy answers as he moves a king of spades into an empty column. “And they won’t look here.”
“What do you need to get out of that badly?” Most of the time, Keefe jumps at the chance to leave the house. He rarely goes anywhere interesting, but it’s nice, to leave the same stale air behind. He picks up the stack of cards and shuffles three of them out—he thinks that’s how you’re supposed to do it, anyway.
“Do you mind?” the boy snaps.
Keefe shrugs. “It’s my treehouse.”
“And my deck.” The boy takes his cards back, scowl affixed firmly in place. If he’s trying to be intimidating, he’s failing badly. “It’s some kind of play, I think. I kept almost falling asleep at the last one they dragged me to but my mother just kept elbowing me in the side. Plus I’d have to wear my itchiest suit.”
“I think that’s just how suits are. I’m Keefe Sencen.” First and last name, like his father taught him, even though nobody in his first grade class gives both.
“Tam.” He flicks through the draw pile until at last he finds the one he needs, slotting it carefully into place.
Keefe frowns. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”
“Who cares? It’s a made-up game anyway. You lose half the time no matter what you do—that doesn’t make sense. Usually my sister plays with me.”
“Oh. Do you know any good games?”
Tam rolls his eyes, sweeping the solitaire spread back into a deck. “Of course. We can play war. You only need two people.”
“I don’t really have anybody else at home,” Keefe admits.
Usually, the people at his school react weirdly when he says stuff like that, but Tam takes it completely in stride. “That’s okay. I’ll teach you.”
Keefe agrees, easily, and the treehouse morphs from being his spot to their spot. Often, when he enters Tam will already be sitting there, or else he’ll clamber up after he arrives. They start to leave notes taped to the walls—are you busy today? I won’t be here tomorrow, my father’s making me try out for soccer. Someone at school gave me a bag of gummy worms and we can share them later.
They hoard candy in one corner, behind a propped-up pillow. The treehouse railing becomes the bow of a pirate ship or a palace balcony or the top of a beanstalk. All the lands beneath them are subject kingdoms, or occasionally enemy territory. And though Keefe has never had a best friend before, he takes to it quickly.
Unlike the kids at school, Tam doesn’t laugh at him when he falls or messes up simple math problems—at least not much, anyway. He likes to think about things more than any other kid Keefe’s met, tilting his head to one side to contemplate what superpower he’d most want and whether he’d rather have toads for ears or spaghetti noodles for feet. And he explains things much, much better than anyone else.
Like soulmates.
“Everyone in my class is obsessed with finding theirs,” Tam complains. “Ever since Mrs. Albright read that book last week, with the people communicating through art. I can’t stand it. If soulmates actually meant anything, my parents wouldn’t snipe at each other every chance they get.”
Keefe nods in solemn understanding. They’re both splayed out on their backs, a blanket thick and warm beneath them and curling around their legs, trying to see the stars. It isn’t that dark out yet, merely enough so that the trek back to his house is a treacherous mission, and the sky is cloudy dull with pollution. “So what do you think soulmates really are?”
“An accident,” Tam says.
“That doesn’t make sense, either,” Keefe points out. “No one at school really cares. Except the kids who like to tease that I’m soulmates with Alice.”
Tam’s nose wrinkles.
“She’s blond like me and once she kissed me on the cheek on the playground because she was playing Marie Antoinette.” Keefe stumbles over the name, trying to sound it out like Alice said it. She’s nice. But if soulmates end up like his parents, he wouldn’t want that with anyone, no matter how nice they are.
“See, that’s silly. I bet really some people are born with too much skin and some people get too little, so they take some people’s skin to give it to others, and that’s where the connection really comes from.”
“Ew.” Keefe rolls over to look at Tam directly, pinching his own arm and making a face. “What if this isn’t really mine?”
In the night, Tam’s dark eyes are big and mischievous. “You wouldn’t know. You never do, until you get older and finally all the adults let you in on the secret. And that’s why soulmates all get married, because they want to be close to the rest of their skin.”
Keefe nods seriously. “I do want it back. If I had extra, I could have webbed fingers, or maybe I could flap it and fly.”
“That’s smart,” Tam says, breaking off to yawn. He’s missing one of his teeth. He pulls the blanket tighter around himself, eyelashes fluttering as he seemingly fights to stay awake. Both of them need to head back home, but they won’t yet, not if it means leaving their bubble of warmth and stars. Nothing can touch them in their treehouse. So long as they stay here, safe, they’ll be friends for forever.
~
Not many people are allowed to watch Keefe when he draws. Out of the entire third grade, he’s by far the best, with his artwork nearly always hanging up in the hallways. He doesn’t like it when his parents look as he sketches or when his classmates crowd around to see in art class. Some of it’s private, just for him, and some of it just shouldn’t be seen until it’s exactly how he wants it.
Tam is a rare exception. Maybe the only exception.
As Keefe paints onto the treehouse walls, layering a new image over faded markers, Tam clambers up behind him. There’s the sound of a body plopping into a beanbag and then attentive silence. Keefe smiles and keeps working. He’s been trying to redo parts of the original decorations, as he hadn’t been this good when he’d done them. Sometimes he can’t help but laugh at his past self when he’s in here.
He’s never exactly been a neat painter. He has a tendency to dip his elbows in the paint, to streak it over his eyebrow or on the back of one shoulder. His workspace always ends up splattered with color no matter how hard he tries to keep from flicking his brush. There’s no cause for concern when he smears a healthy blob of green across most of his thumb. He just kneels to grab his paper towel, and then he notices Tam just staring at him, eyes too wide for his face.
Suddenly self-conscious, Keefe asks, “Is something wrong?”
“Your hand.” Tam fidgets in place with nervous energy. He lifts one arm up, splaying his fingers out to display the shades splattered across them. “I’ve—I’ve been watching them appear for a while today. I knew they weren’t from me, you know?”
“Oh.” Frowning, Keefe presses the brush to his forearm, scrawling out every curse word he knows and laughing at the consternated expression on Tam’s face. “What? I’m testing it.”
“Dude,” Tam complains, “my parents are going to flip if they see that.”
Keefe snickers. “You can’t call me dude. I’m your soulmate.”
Tam sobers, still-round face going solemn. “What now? Does anything really change?”
“No,” Keefe says decisively. “I haven’t changed my mind on soulmates. And it doesn’t really matter, does it? We’d be best friends with or without it.”
“Good.” Tam lets the silence sit for all of half a minute before asking if he wants to play Nintendo. Keefe could almost forget the conversation happened at all, if not for how their skin quickly becomes a rapid form of communication. Throughout boring school days, they trade doodles and jokes back and forth, though when they get home the treehouse remains their sanctuary. They keep writing the notes and tucking them under rocks for the really important things. Nothing changes, but everything should, Keefe figures.
It doesn’t matter. He likes their friendship as is just fine.
Well, more than fine.
~
The first year they’re in the same class at school, it’s fifth grade, and Keefe’s father has just transferred him to the same fancy private institution that Tam has always attended. The rules are strict and the academics prestigious. And while at public school Keefe had grown into a sort of ringleader of children with sheer confidence and natural charisma, here he finds most of the kids irritating.
At recess, where the playground is more of a yard than anything else—a vast space of green without any true play structures to be found, Keefe takes to climbing the tall trees. He likes it up high. He likes that there’s a place where his teachers don’t know to look for him, and sometimes when they call everyone inside he’ll stay silent and still, evading notice so long as no one thinks to look up. They never do.
Except Tam. He cranes his neck up to look at where Keefe rests on the broadest limb, one leg dangling precariously in the air. “How’d you get up there?”
“Flew,” Keefe shoots back.
Tam rolls his eyes. He’s unfairly good at that. Keefe can’t stop his eyelids from fluttering when he tries.
When Tam starts up, he’s tentative, testing every handhold before daring to transfer his weight. He stops before he gets to the first true branches, frowning down at the ground and tightening his grip around the trunk.
“Don’t look down,” Keefe advises. “Well, not more than you already have, anyway. There’s a knot to your right, it’s pretty sturdy. Once you’re up on it, the rest of the way’s a lot easier.”
It takes more shouted instructions and some curses muttered under Tam’s breath, the ones he’d taught Keefe a while ago after his dad lost his temper on a waiter, but eventually Tam clambers up and settles beside him. “Scooch over.”
Keefe shifts a couple of inches. “Why do you get to sit closer to the trunk?”
“Because I’m not about to fall.” Tam rests his head against the bark, keeping his arm loosely wrapped around the tree.
“I don’t think that would help you if the branch did break.”
Tam shrugs. “Who said I was worried about the branch breaking? Maybe I just don’t trust you to shove me off.”
“No matter how much you try to strangle the tree, I could still shove you off if I really wanted to.” Keefe bumps his shoulder against Tam’s just to see his unimpressed glare. Both of them have black pen scribbled up and down their forearms from a particularly boring math class earlier. Keefe’s intricate little doodles sit beside Tam’s messy sketches, the mocking caricatures he likes to make of Keefe with his hair all wild like the blue jay’s nest near their treehouse. It had descended into an argument over whether Squirrel girl or Bugs Bunny would win in a fight.
“Not worth it. If you killed me, you’d never get rid of my ghost,” Tam says. “Face it. You’re stuck with me.”
Keefe sighs dramatically, barely remembering not to flop backwards in time. “I suppose so. You let someone into your treehouse one time and all of a sudden it’s a hostage situation.”
Tam laughs, opening his mouth to say something else, but then there’s a shout from below.
“Hey, lovebirds! What are you doing up there?” Below them stands Bryce, by far the worst bully in their grade with his tired taunts. “Tam and Keefe, sitting in a tree, K-I—”
Before he can finish the rest of the juvenile chant, Tam snaps a thin twig off the branch and pelts him with it. “Leave us alone!” he calls down.
Keefe joins in readily, and while none of their missiles hit Bryce gives up the game when the whistle blows for them all to head back inside.
Tam starts to shimmy down, glancing up when he’s halfway to the ground. “You coming?”
“After you,” Keefe says, waving one hand dismissively. He doesn’t know why his stomach’s dropped to his toes. He’s not scared of heights, and he’s definitely not afraid of Bryce. But Tam is his best friend. Always has been. Why should it be weird between them now? Keefe’s skin is crawling, and when he looks at his forearms again he wants to claw the ink off. He wants to forget why it stains his skin. He wants to yank a jacket on so no one else can see and make assumptions, so he doesn’t have to hear the same stories again, so he can pretend he doesn’t know what it means. Pretend it means nothing at all.
Because people care here. People care so much. They dream about the day that they finally meet their soulmate, and here Keefe is, close with his already. It doesn’t make sense. He has time. Maybe that’s all it is, all he needs, time to get there on his own terms.
But he doesn’t want to get there. He wants to want it. Can that be enough? Can he be whole if he pretends hard enough?
Tam’s standing on the grass, looking up expectantly. Keefe follows him down, the way he always will, and when they trade grins after Tam dares him to race back to the school doors that messed up thing in Keefe settles into place again. Because they’re best friends. Because today, after school, he’ll go back to the treehouse that this oak at school isn’t a true substitute for and it’ll all be okay again. Okay away from the rest of the world.
~
The worst happens. The worst is worse than Keefe could ever have predicted, and he’s a pessimist who masquerades as an optimist, so he can predict a whole lot. There’s no warning. No closure.
Because after a weekend away with his parents, spent with his frustrating extended family—who all say things he doesn’t like but doesn’t know how to argue with, the last pf the moving trucks is pulled into the neighbor’s driveway. The tasteful Song mansion has clearly been cleared out. Even the carefully tended orchids have been dug out from the soil, transplanted into pots and leaving the garden gouged and tattered.
Keefe is already running when he sees it. He can’t make sense of it.
He doesn’t know what he’s looking for until it’s not there. The letters are where they put everything important, hold it down with paperweights and reply when they can, translating messy elementary school handwriting into words. There’s no letter. Tam has left nothing behind. His blanket is gone, the one with the silly Lilo and Stitch pattern he’s had since he was five. All that remains is a single forgotten plush cat, lying discarded in one corner and half-hidden by an old and empty pizza box. Tam’s favorite. Keefe had helped him name it—Artemis, for Sailor Moon, and now it’s here but Tam isn’t.
Tam’s gone.
The treehouse is empty. Quiet.
Keefe isn’t used to the quiet anymore. For so long, the treehouse has been an escape from his hollow, hollow house. It rings with laughter and light. It’s the kind of closeness a younger version of himself would never have dreamed of. As much as the treehouse had began as his own space, his one refuge, it doesn’t mean anything anymore when he’s relegated to this loneliness.
The swell of hurt builds and builds in his chest. He can’t be here anymore. He can’t look at these four wooden walls and wait, wait like Tam will come up the ladder any moment, because he won’t. He never will again.
How dare he? How dare he leave like that? In a fit of anger, Keefe kicks over the empty water bottles and overturns their careful collection of colorful erasers, letting them spill across the floor and fall onto the dirt below. He rages until there’s nothing else to take his anger out on and hurls Artemis against the wall. Again and again and again.
He grabs a black marker, thick-tipped, and writes I HATE YOU on his arm until it crowds out all the empty space. He writes it, and doesn’t stop, teeth clenched and anger boiling out his blood. It feels like absolution. It feels like victory, because maybe he wasn’t the first to leave but he will be the first to get over it. He writes those three words until he believes them. Until the feeling subsides.
And then he picks up Artemis again, and pretends that, when he clutches her close to his chest, the wetness he hides into her soft surface isn’t tears.
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Coming Attractions!
First Monday of the month, so here we go!
As per usual, this is also an Open Question Night--anything I've posted about here or on AO3 is fair game; my askbox is always open but tonight I'll be keeping an eye on it and responding. I do take prompts, but no guarantees on how quickly I fill them.
Not a whole lot to report this month--mostly because moving took up A Lot of time/energy/etc., so I didn't get as much writing done as I would have hoped, so just a quick blitz through:
OTP Meme fills--
I'm still super behind, haha. I caught up on June, but I need to do July, August, and September for all five ships this month, so that'll be fun.
PodTogether--
It got posted! It ended up being not quite all I'd hoped it would be (our plans were a lot more ambitious than our execution, haha), but the three bits that did get finished/posted I think turned out pretty well. I do enjoy doing this event a lot; next summer should be less busy for me, too, so hopefully it'll go a little smoother/I'll get a little closer to whatever my partner(s) and I end up planning (although I think I might take Leverage off my fandoms list next time; we'll see.)
Other SW--
No real updates here, other than we at SWBB got an ask about next year's event already (signups don't open til like December!!!), so I'm going to dig up what I started last year and hopefully actually finish it so I can participate. I've been involved with that event for so long that it felt weird to only do modding/betaing/podfic and not Write for it this time.
(Precipice!verse has the same update it has for the past several months. It will not die until I leave this fandom, but it hasn't been getting much/any active focus lately.)
BSG--
Signups are still open for GBB! We could use a few more artists and betas. Story detail submissions are coming in, and I'm excited for what I'm seeing.
I also want to get a little more into actively working on TOB over the next few weeks/by the end of the year. It's been floating around in the back of my head for so long and I thiiiiiink I've named all of the people and patched enough of the plotholes to get started...of course, now I need to figure out exactly when/where I need to start (especially since...you know, need to introduce a bunch of OCs plus explain why Baltar ends up in a different position...so yeah XD)
I do still have various crossover snippets that might get worked on (like the one I reblogged the other day; there's also the Zeb and Helo one that I thought turned out pretty well); plus The Blood of Angry Men which I do genuinely plan to write at some point, but structuring it is a complicated question XD (Zarek character study/backstory piece; mostly focused on everything that initially sent him to prison, told through the lens of him looking back on it as he faces down his execution in S4; some stuff about charisma and followers he's lost/led to their deaths; the balance between him believing in his rhetoric and wanting power/using that rhetoric to gain it...a lot of really interesting things to think about here, lol)
Les Mis--
P&J will update soon; I'm also working on Acheron which I'm super excited for. I've written snippets of dialogue for Provenance (companion to P&J) but that won't get posted until the main fic is complete (because it's probably more fun to watch Ari solve as much of the puzzle as is possible given modern-day available records/evidence before filling in some of the gaps with a somewhat more traditional-style fic, lol)
Castlevania--
Not really much to say here other than at some point I will pick up Incinctus; also when Nocturne starts airing I will probably be Very Tempted to do a more active/actual crossover with Vampire Chronicles (bookverse) because. Like. The Theatre is right there lol (I know the vampire rules are very different in the two canons; which is part of why Marius existing in Incinctus is only a quick Easter Egg cameo; also Alucard and Armand would hate each other so much lol and I love them both so I'm not...suuuuuper interested in writing about that XD) Anyway, we'll see how much Nocturne actually draws me in, but at the moment I'm looking forward to it.
...I think that about covers it! Moving is exhausting and expensive but while unpacking/setup is still going on we are Fully Moved at this point, so...yay! Hopefully next month will pick up some.
#coming attractions#miscellania#open question night#shadowsong writes star wars#shadowsong writes bsg#shadowsong writes other fandoms
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Update - 10/29/21
All my future updates are going to be under a cut because there's been a few gnarlier things going on so, medical jibber jabber, reproductive health, and descriptions of surgical wounds below.
Update - 10/29/21
It's been a while so I figured I'd give another update, it's been 3 weeks since my surgery and I am fairly mobile and walking around the house and preparing my own simple meals. I can't bend over still, but my incision is mostly closed about 55% except for the bottom where it was opened up and a few inches on the top where it's scabbed instead of skin to skin. The scabs seem to be holding everything together though so I'm not worried about them opening up or anything.
I have my post op follow up on Monday afternoon, I'm glad that this is almost over and I'm thinking about letting my teachers know that I can start to work on my class materials again. I'm somewhat worried about being able to catch up, but I'm also trying to not stress about it because of it being an extraordinary circumstance and my teachers generally seem to be understanding.
I will update again in a few days after my post-op appointment.
Update - 10/20/21
I got my staples removed on the 18th, which was good, but there's a little complication with the bottom part of my incision. The top half closed beautifully, the lower half did not. It's healthy and clean, just- open. So instead of being able to be up and about a bit more I'm still stuck resting for two more weeks minimum before I can start being up more. On the bright side I can use my laptop so I should be able to start getting some things done again!
My cyst was 100% benign, but they were able to determine that I have the very early stages of endometriosis. At least I'll know for the future so no doctors can try to bullshit me if I say I'm in pain. Ugh, I'm feeling really all over the place emotionally about all of this because with that cyst being so large it was probably throwing my hormones all out of whack so my body is going to have to find a new normal which means I get to have hella mood swings until that happens lmfao. I cried like five times yesterday over the stupidest bullshit and I'm lowkey dreading these next few weeks.
Update - 10/10/21
I've been in the hospital for the past few days for monitoring and I've been doing really well, I'm actually going to be going home today, so I'm excited about that! I'm not allowed to drive or lift over 10 pounds for 6 weeks, so I should be fully recovered by the end of November. I'm really glad everything is going so well and thank everyone whose sent me well wishes, I appreciate them a lot!
Update - 10/8/21
I've had my surgery and my cust has been removed. It weighed 22 pounds and my incision is about a foot long, but there's no cancer so that is a win! I'll be in the hospital for a few days before going home to finish the recovery. Thank you gusy for the well wishes, I'm doing pretty okay!
Hiatus - 10/7/21
I'm not sure how many people are going to be wondering where/if I have new content coming out, so I'm making this to pin to my page: On 10/3/21 I went to the ER with severe abdominal pain and they discovered I have a massive ovarian cyst and I'm having to have major surgery (on 10/8/21) to have it removed. For the time being I'm unsure how long I will be out of commission, so Whumptober and my fics are going on hiatus.
I will try to keep this post updated as events occur, but I will be in recovery for at minimum a month. My queue is still running so posts should still come as they normally would, but I will not be checking tumblr as much as I usually do. If you want to contact me directly, my DMs are open and it's probably the fastest way to get my attention.
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Please take some time to read this post.
My fellow Tumblr users in the Luca fandom, I need your help. I have a fanfiction author friend of mine who is going through some hard times.
And that Fanfiction author is this one right here:
Might seem boring at first glance, but trust me, her stories are AMAZING! And her Luca fic, A Sea Dog's Tale, has some pretty impressive rankings, but not very good in terms of comments.
She specifically asked me to request for ANYONE to take at least fifteen minutes of their day to comment and vote on her story. It would bring her much joy.
And for those of you who don't have access to Wattpad, I will post the first chapter under the cut. And I will ask you to note this post if you liked the chapter! It's called "The Ballad Of An Italian Street Dog."
Again, I would very much appreciate it if you'd take some time out of your day to read this. On here, or on Wattpad.
This story is also on Fanfiction.net and A03.
A Water Dog originating from Spain
Is in no way, shape, or form vain.
While exploring the country he resides in
He happily and politely takes what the town provides him.
Misunderstood for eating sea monsters his entire life
For him, befriending one gives him nothing but strife.
After living three years of living in solitude
He finally befriends not one, but two
And is given a new aptitude.
Italian-to-English translations are in parentheses.
.............
It's a quiet morning in Portorosso, Italy. Birds are singing, people chatting among themselves, waves crashing against the shore...
And... Dogs are singing?
Figaro... Figaro... Figaro... Figaro... Figaro... Figaro... Figaro... Figaro... Figaro... Figaro...Figaro... Figaro!
Figaro! Son qua. Ehi, Figaro! Son qua.
Figaro qua, Figaro la, Figaro qua, Figaro la, Figaro su, Figaro giu, Figaro su, Figaro giu.
Pronto prontissimo son come il fumine: sono il factotum della citta. (della citta, della citta, della citta, della citta)
One building away, a large, gray, and now ornery Cane Corso rose to greet the morning sun. And it wouldn't be that way if not for whoever's uproarious singing was coming from.
Turning the corner, the large dog came across a trash can... With two black legs, hind legs by the looks of them, with white paws, sticking out. The lid was barely open. Whoever was singing in there, not only did the trash can amplify the noise, it woke him from the depths of sleep.
Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo; Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo; a te fortuna a te fortuna, a te fortuna non manchera.
la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
A te fortuna a te fortuna, a te fortuna non manchera.
"I bet I know who it is." The dog said in its guttural voice. As the animal in the trash can continued singing, the dog materialized a stone, getting ready to throw it.
Sono il factotum della citta, Sono il factotum della citta,
Della citta,
Della citta,
Della citta~!!!
Negligent whether or not the animal finished its impressive but loud singing voice, the Cane Corso threw the glass bottle. It made a loud and startling noise upon contact. The hind paws disappeared. And a speaking voice rang out.
"Ah! Cos'è stato (What was that)?" Something popped out of the trash can. The animal in the trash can, he was mostly black in fur color, but his chest, paws, chin, and belly were white.
He is incredibly handsome... And also incredibly misunderstood. Like the American Pitbull.
You're probably wondering, how do I know so much about this dog?
I'll tell you why.
THAT dog... Is me.
My name is Galileo. Like that astronomer Galileo Galilei back in the sixteen hundreds that discovered Earth's Orbit, the solar system, and how the planets don't revolve around Earth.
It's a pleasure to meet you. We don't usually get new people around these parts.
I am a Spanish Water Dog, a herding and waterfowl retriever. I take pride in being THE fastest swimmer, and fastest swimming dog, in Portorosso. Life's okay most of the time, as a homeless street dog. The food supply sucks sometimes, but the water supply is in the best condition.
You're probably wondering why I described myself as misunderstood, right? Admit it, you're asking yourself now. Why am I considered misunderstood?
Well, I am rumored to have eaten, get this, SEA MONSTERS, my whole life. Pretty weird, right? And just because, making friends with one... All the ones I tried to meet, they have REALLY BAD trust issues.
Portorosso prides itself in hunting and killing them. Honestly, I'm not sure why. They seem pretty decent to me.
Course, I'm not gonna tell you the story just yet. We've just met! First I gotta deal with the idioto that decided to wake me up.
Lifting the lid off my head, I saw an angry-looking gray Cane Corso. They're HUGE! This one looks like it eats twice its body weight every day, and looks as healthy as me.
And that's saying something, because coming from someone who either eats out of the garbage, or begs for food, I have the best diet in the world.
Anyway, enough about me for now.
"Can I help you?" I asked the large dog. "Yes, actually. Your singing woke me up!" He barked. "And I don't like being woken up!"
"Well, unlike you, I don't scare other dogs half to death by banging on something." I retorted, tilting the trash can so I could slip out. I regretted it. He's even bigger up close and on the ground...
"Heh. Typical medium dogs. Talks a big game, loses in a fight within the first minute."
"It's early in the morning. I'm not in the mood for a fight." I said, going to walk away. But the bigger dog decided to get in front of me. "Ah, but I am, cagnolino (puppy)."
"No. I'm in the mood for something to eat."
The Cane Corso smirked in the general direction of the harbor, just in front of the fountain. "How's about you do a little hunting with me? Surely I can find a nice sea monster for you."
"Uh, no thanks, Signor Corso. I'd rather—" I got cut off by the bigger dog. "Signor Corso?" Then he burst out laughing. "You don't know who I am, do you?"
"I can't say that I do."
The Cane Corso turned his head and stared down at me with a smirk. "Then allow this legend to introduce himself. I am Socrates, the most well-known canine in Portorosso. Named after the Greek philosopher, I take pride in having brute strength, only the best hunting and tracking skills, and above all, the best master of them all."
The last bit is up for debate, because I've run into people who threw glass bottles, stones, and even ceramics at me. And they all owned a dog with a better status than me.
"What is your name, cagnolino?"
"I'm Galileo. Like the astronomer."
"Ah, piacere di conoscerti (Nice to meet you), Galileo. It's a delight to meet a street dog with such little social status, unlike myself."
"Oh, grazie, Socrates... Wait, what?" I asked. Did he just nonchalantly insult me?
"I think you heard me." Socrates said, his friendly grin turning into an irritated frown. I shook my head with a confused grin. "Ugh, why am I even talking to you? I am a famous icon around here. I haven't the time to blab with scrubs like you."
I looked and felt disrespected. How dare he? "You know, for someone so big and so popular, you're kind of jerkish." I snapped. He turned around with a sharp glare.
He struck me down with one paw to my head, knocking me to the ground. "You got that right, I'm a jerk. Everyone in Portorosso knows it. So let me leave you here, injured without batting an eye, with a warning. First of all, this town here, belongs to my master. Second, he wouldn't want a wuss like you in it. And neither do I."
"I'm not a wuss. I'm a pacifist." I said, standing up. Irritated, Socrates barked loud enough to alert the rest of the block. Just getting a glimpse of his sharp front teeth made me back away with a yelp. Socrates chuckled, non-verbally saying 'that's what I thought.'
Growling at my show of weakness, I stood up. "Next time I see you here, you won't leave scot-free. You've been warned. And you will only be warned ONCE." Socrates said, before turning around to leave.
I kinda want to know who this guy's owner is. Just so I can tell him how much of a jerk he was to A SMALLER DOG.
I huffed with a roll of my eyes. I don't wanna run into THAT guy again. Well, looks like it's foraging.
Or... OR...
Maybe a little hunting in the ocean wouldn't hurt anyone.
I have to sneak to get to the water. Why? Because I get sick of children seeing me and urging to pet me, telling me I'm cute, or that I'm a good boy, and all that.
I don't always enjoy the compliments. Children younger than ten, in my anecdotes, are too energetic for me. I have preferences, even though I'm a street dog.
As I check my reflection in the water, I dunked my paw into it. It turned a bright teal. And the black fur on my leg turned yellow.
Why this happens when I get wet? I'll tell you now, I'm not (entirely) a sea monster. On that note, I don't even know why they're called 'monsters.' They look more like bipedal aquatic lizards to me.
Remember when I said I was misunderstood for eating sea monsters my entire life?
That rumor is a far cry from the truth.
I only resorted to eating a sea monster on ONE occasion. Two years ago. As a desperate survival instinct. I ate one single sea monster.
His name was Giovanni, and he was already fatally injured by a harpoon. He specifically told me to put him out of his... His misery and... and... I did so and consumed him.
I would have dropped dead in a couple of days or less without that nourishment. I was starving to death. Literally. Do you judge me for that?
A week later, my fur changed color when I was wet. The news of my kill then spread like wildfire. And so, when I swim off into the ocean, I can overhear people saying 'he's off to save us from those wretched sea monsters,' and stuff like that. It's getting old.
In conclusion, the rumor was born, and it has lasted up until this very day.
I've also gotten more webbing between my toes, much sharper teeth, and I'd say about 2.3% higher swimming speed.
So help me, Neptune, I better not have more changes in my physical appearance within the next few days. I just got the sharp teeth yesterday. Now I can leave a gigantic teeth mark on a rock.
I am a predator sea monster/dog.
I'm known as predatory down here, but, they don't bother me, so I don't bother them. And they rarely bother me. Because, they're scared of me. Like I want them to. *sigh*
But NOW I'm wondering; if I was born a regular dog and gained sea monster attributes, does that make me a sea monster or the same old dog?
Or I could just call myself a sea dog.
When I'm down here, I pretty much eat what I want. I have the guilty pleasure to steal someone's livestock, such as goatfish, when they're not looking, swim far enough away, then eat it. One could call me a lone wolf.
I don't do it as much anymore, but I can't eat kelp or seagrass every time I come down here. So, at rare occasions, I go to the deep for some of the best tasting meat I've tasted...
Whale carcass!
I know what you're thinking, but believe me, it tastes better than it sounds. It is PACKED with protein and nutritional value. If there's nothing else I feel like eating, I go there.
Hopefully without bumping into this giant anglerfish that creeps me out to high heaven. He never gave me his name... He's usually rambling on about how great life is down there. And I care more about my empty stomach than having a full-blown conversation with that guy, so when he does try to talk to me, I don't always pay attention.
Until he mentions whale carcass.
There's not a ton of oxygen that deep down, anyway, so I'm quick to eat until I'm satisfied, then leave before I start suffocating.
And here I am rambling about my ocean life, when I just found a nice sea cucumber!
No, wait, two! Three! Just sitting there on the rock! Four upon closer inspection!
Oh, Galileo, this is the best part of your cruddy morning!
Licking my chops, I made a beeline for the sea cucumber infested rock and started eating. Oh my... I lied before. Sea cucumbers taste great. They supply me with enough energy to take on the day.
I haven't had these in so long...
.............
You know what I sometimes do at night when everyone's finally asleep?
I check on some of the sea monsters, making sure they're okay, even though I overhear comments like 'the ferocious Galileo is stalking his prey.'
I ignore those comments. They're merely the wind beneath my wings. They only lift me higher!
When I'm patrolling in the ocean at night, not much goes on... But what was about to happen tonight is gonna be big, I can feel it in my fur!
Anyway, it started when I saw a boat, with two fishermen conversing. Something about sea monsters being stories, I wasn't paying attention.
After hearing operatic music, I started lulling me to sleep, but before my eyes involuntarily closed, I saw a hand grab a few things from the boat. All I saw was a wrench, a cup, and I think a playing card. I was only a few feet away from the boat, so I couldn't really tell.
My newly gained night vision is at its best underwater. I decided to go under and get a closer look. I heard one of the fishermen shout, then I saw what I wasn't expecting.
A sea monster.
My eyesight, now enhanced, but still blurry, I could only see slit green eyes within a black silhouette. A black silhouette, that got caught in a net. I gasped. It grunted as it tried to escape, but it only got more tangled. Whether it's scared of me or not, I'm helping him! And I know exactly how.
I paddled towards the animal in the net. "Don't move. I'll make this quick." I told him, then I bit at the net, cutting it off with one bite. Then, getting to the holes, a small prick from my teeth cuts it, and within seconds the sea monster is freed. It jumped in the air, then back in the water. I went to follow him, but I stopped when a harpoon sailed through the water and slashed its arm. I winced as it let out a small pained cry.
I have ZERO good experiences with harpoons. Oftentimes even I am mistaken for a sea monster, the humans unaware of what I am. I've been hit with harpoons enough times. How many? I lost count. A lot. But I'm lucky.
The only place I haven't been struck by a harpoon is my chest. And my neck. Clearly my neck. I'd be dead if I got struck in the neck. Humans can have impeccable aim with those things.
Also, and I'm only gonna tell you once: I have an immense fear of harpoons. Always have. Or just sharp objects in general. Hate 'em, hate 'em, stay away from 'em. That's my motto. Don't get me started on knives.
Again, regardless on whether it's afraid of me or not...
"Are you okay?" I asked it. He didn't answer at first. He just held his arm in pain. I'll take that as a no. "Okay, let's get you on land, and I can fix that for you."
The sea monster, finally, spoke a word. "Okay."
Side by side, we swam to the shore of the island. "Okay, let me see it." I told him, reaching for his arm. "Don't touch it!" His voice was in the baritone vocal range.
"I'm not gonna touch it, I just wanna look." I gently took his arm and inspected the cut. He sucked in air through his teeth. The wound was bleeding a bit, but it wasn't deep, so fixing it up won't be a problem.
"Okay, I know what to do, but you're gonna have to trust me." I told him. "Do you trust me?"
I didn't expect him to answer straight away (he didn't), since we just met and don't even know each other's names. He answered me with a nod. "Okay, stay right there, I'll be back in a flash."
I went back down underwater and searched for the closest patch of seaweed I could find. It doesn't have to be very long... Perfect. I found a foot long piece of kelp, pulled it off from the root, then surfaced back to the island.
"Okay, I'm gonna try to clean that wound out. You can hold my paw if you need to. Kay?"
He nodded.
I sucked in water into my mouth, then held it in until I got to his arm again. He took a hold of my paw if it hurt. I squirted the water out on the wound. He only squeezed my paw a bit, moaning in pain. Once my mouth was emptied of water, I wrapped the piece of kelp around the cut and tied a knot.
I made sure it was tight, but not too tight. I don't have any real bandages on me, so this is gonna have to do.
"Alright, that should do it. Leave that on overnight and see if it's still bleeding in the morning." I told him. This was my attempt at first aid, despite never performing it before.
"Okay." He said.
"Do you need me to stay with you for tonight?"
"No, I'll be okay."
"Alright, then." I turned to the water, ready to call it a night. "Hey, wait!" I turned to the sea monster one more time. He smiled at me, "Thank you." I smiled back. "You're welcome."
That felt good. He trusted me... Which is weird, because I don't remember seeing him ONCE. Could I have non-verbally made my first sea monster friend?
Perhaps...
But, its late, I better get to sleep. The thing is, I'm a little too tired to swim back to town. Last time I tried swimming while tired, I drifted into the ocean, and it took me an hour to find the town again.
Why not... Sleep in the ocean for a change? When I come here to vent, the tranquillity usually helps. Actually, I've slept in the ocean before. It was AMAZING. The seagrass fields are the most comfortable. Best part is, they hide you from predators.
So that's what I did. I decided to sleep on the ocean floor. I walked in a circle before laying down. I was instantly feeling more tired. I laid my head down and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Awaiting what tomorrow has to offer.
So... That's the end of this chapter. What do you think of Galileo? What do you think of Socrates?
I felt like putting the "Alberto getting hit in the arm by the harpoons in the beginning" concept in here, and having Galileo help the guy out. Whether he wanted his help or not...
I think we can all agree that he's a very good boy.
Next chapter, Galileo meets our other protagonist.
#luca paguro#alberto scorfano#giulia marcovaldo#ercole visconti#daniela paguro#lorenzo paguro#massimo marcovaldo#machiavelli#wattpad#spreading awareness#galileo the water dog#disney luca#pixar luca#luca 2021
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🏅, 📊 and 🧠 for the fanfic asks?
🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).
I completed the 50k goal for NaNoWriMo, but even more recently than that, I finished chapter 12 of As the Time Passes last night. I had to rewrite most of the chapter, but I'm glad it's done and I'll have had a year of updates for that fic as of next week.
📊 Current number of WIPs
45 that I can count immediately. There's probably more in my google docs folders, including some original stuff, but that's a hot mess that I don't feel like organizing and counting right now (I say this as I'm opening the docs to transfer them to Scrivener lol 😅). The 45 include:
- 14 posted on AO3 (7 of those in my WIP Wednesday series)
- 19 that will go up on AO3 in the next year or two as part of WIP Wednesdays
- 1 Big Bang project that will be finished by early next year at the latest
- 10 YOI WIPs that aren't part of the WIP Wednesday schedule yet (mostly because none of them have a completed chapter yet)
- 1 HP oneshot that's been lingering in my writing docs for YEARS because I can't figure out where it's going
🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?
I'm breaking this up into three parts: an HP idea, a YOI idea, and an idea for the Our Screaming Souls/Soul's Scream universe.
HP idea: Something based on the tv show The Returned or a Marauder's Era fic based on the tv show Revenge.
YOI idea: I've got two ideas for MerMay. One is with a seahorse-mer-Yuuri, the other involves Mer-Viktor being rescued from a circus/aquarium.
OSS/SS idea: A spin-off focusing on the Circle's second Hunt, ten years from where the fic is currently.
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Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader
Song of the day: Hurts - Something I Need To Know
Chapter warnings: angst, a lot of angst tbh, cheating if you squint, imma say abusive relationship just so there won't be any surprises
AN: Series of smutty / angsty fics inspired by songs by the band Hurts. Mostly angsty, because I'm a sucker for pain.
Reader is an Avenger with the power to create and control fire, and as they say, opposite attracts, so Loki takes interests in her.
MASTERLIST 🌹
Loki had a lot of patience. He just didn't like to use it, not when it was about things he really wanted. In this case he wanted to know what the fuck was going on between you and him.
You've been on one date so far, if you can call watching a movie and drinking whisky in the Avnegers' Tower a date.
You've shared few kisses, stolen in those rare moment when you've been left alone, hasty and innocent, nothing more than two pairs of uncertain lips brushing against each other.
But it was enough for his heart to quicken its pace whenever he thought of your soft, warm lips on his. The memory of your taste lingering in his mind long after you've left.
He assumed everything was going well, but then you suddenly stopped texting him back, ignored all his calls, and it's been almost a week since the two of you talked.
It would be much easier if you lived in the tower, but you were politely refusing moving in every time someone suggested it, jokingly saying that you didn't pay hell of a price for your own place only to abandon it after two years.
But it wasn't that hard to find out where you lived, it only took few hours of convincing and a promise to his brother that he won't do anything stupid or irresponsible with that information, and Thor asked Stark about it.
Gathering enough courage to actually go and see you was entirely different story. He really wanted to talk, to understand why you acted like this, but on the other hand, he had no rights to violate your privacy like that.
It was eating him alive, though, the fear that he did something wrong, that he somehow offended you, was creeping underneath his skin, present in his every breath, thought, beat of his heart. He was scared he's hurt you in some way, that he made you leave him.
It took him two days to finally snap. Whatever the truth was, he needed to know, for the sake of his sanity. And it was obvious you were hiding something from him.
It was Friday evening when he decided he's ready to talk to you, he was drinking Asgardian mead Thor brought from home, going through everything he said and did around you, and he couldn't find a single reason why would you ignore him.
He was tired of suspicions, tired of wondering why.
So he ordered a cab and went to see you in your flat in Hell's Kitchen, so sure of what he's going to say, so sure...
Until you opened the doors, dressed in an oversized sweater and nothing more, your hair messy, mascara smudged around reddened eyes, eyelashes still clumped with tears that already dried on your cheeks.
And all words escaped him in a split second, his heart dropping to his stomach, heavy, drumming, aching.
"It's really not a good time," you spoked in hoarse voice, barely above whisper, but it cut through air like a whip.
"Is it... Is it because of me?" He would rip his heart out if he was the reason of your misery.
"Why...? No, no," you stammered looking everywhere but his face, "I'll explain everything, just... Tonight isn't a good time," you repeated this like a mantra, hoping that will be enough to make him go away. But the look on his face was telling you it won't work.
"Y/n, I need to know, please..." He was ready to beg you for an explanation, but then his gaze fell upon a bag lying on the floor next to a couch, overflowing with clothes.
Male clothes.
"What's going on?" His firm voice made you shudder, your shoulders slumped even more and you looked like if you wanted the ground to open and swallow you whole.
You knew he noticed, and there was nothing you could say to make things better. So you remained silent, gaze fixed on his shoes, your eyes filling with tears again.
No one was supposed to know about this, about your stupid ex who didn't want to leave your flat for weeks now. Especially not Loki.
You planned on telling him about Derek, but after you're finally free from him, after you fix the mess of this horrible break up.
"Do you... Are you in a relationship with someone else, y/n?" You could hear the hurt in his voice, how he swallowed hard, it's must have been really difficult for him to ask this.
"Not anymore... We broke up two weeks ago for good," you answered honestly, a sigh leaving your trembling lips as you looked up at him.
It was over. You couldn't hide it anymore and Loki deserved better, much better. All of his emotions were written on his pale face, paler than usual, more tired and troubled, you noticed.
You knew what's going to happen next, so his outburst didn't surprise you. But it didn't hurt less just because you were prepered.
"Two weeks...? Two weeks?!" You stepped back, watching him with fear as he stalked you, closing the gap between you two, until you had nowhere else to run, back of your legs hitting the armrest of the couch. "You want to say you were with someone else when I kissed you for the first time?! How could you...?"
He knew he was probably overreacting, and that it was the alcohol speaking, but he was angry at you. He couldn't wrap his finger around what was going on in your head at that time when he kissed you for the first time, and then the second, and then another... And you were always kissing him back, despite having a boyfriend.
"I'm sorry, Loki... I didn't want to hurt you... I just didn't know how to tell you..."
"I wanted to know the truth, it's my fault," he laughed darkly, almost histerically, clenching and unclenching his fists over and over again, trying to calm down, to build a wall between you and him, his hurt feelings, and sarcasm was his way to do it. "I can't believe I actually thought I did something wrong."
"I know you're angry, but let me explain, please..." You wanted to make him understand, but it'd be very hard without telling him all the details of your previous relationship, without admitting how fucked up it was, how much you wanted to escape it. To the point that when Loki made a move... you didn't fight it.
"What, y/n? What do you want to explain? I already know everything," he half snarled, half laughed at you, and you could feel hot tears stinging your eyes.
"I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up, I know..." your throat was tight as you fought the tears, the clearly audible crack in your voice threatening to break your ability to speak. But you swallowed the lump in your throat, bravely looked up at his face, and continued, "You have all rights to be angry, but just listen..."
"You cheated on your boyfriend with me, y/n," he interrupted you once again, and suddenly, you got angry as well, "Prove me wrong."
You knew he was right, that he was hurt by your actions, by you ignoring him for a week, you really knew and understood... But something about him not listening made you so, so angry in that moment, because he knew the feeling of being misunderstood, he knew how it it feels when no one listens, no one lets you explain.
"I didn't cheat," you snapped at him, all those bottled for weeks feelings finally finding their outlet, and you felt good and bad at the same time, but it was too late to stop, so you continued, "I can't cheat on someone who's never here when I need them. I can't cheat on someone who's just using me as a stress relief and never listens to what I want! You think you know everything..." you smiled with sorrow, your brows knitted, folding arms on your chest, "But the truth is you know nothing about me. And you definitely know nothing about him," you finished with an angry huff, unfolding your arms and walking around Loki to your doors to open them wider. "You should go."
"Y/n, I had no idea," he muttered, turning around to face you, but you've had enough, you've made your mind.
"Yeah, but you decided to judge me anyway, so go. I already told you it's not a good time," your voice was cold, firm, he never heard it before, he didn't even know you were able to sound so aggressively. "He'll be here soon to pick up his shit. I have enough problems without him knowing about you."
You were no longer looking at him, and the entire anger clouding his mind faded away when he noticed how your shoulders trembled under the weight of anger, guilt, and sadness.
"Y/n... I'm sorry... You should've told me..."
"I want you out of my house, I won't repeat myself," you threatened, glancing at him, your eyes flashing red for a second, but you managed to control the fire spreading through your veins, only your fingertips were burning, foreboding flames that were soon to burst out of your clenched fist. "Don't come here again."
He wasn't going to challenge his luck, knowing that with your powers you can easily hurt him very badly, even kill him if you really wanted. So he walked passed you, his lips pursed, as he took in the sight of your broken face.
"I'm sorry," he only said again, and then left you alone, the sound of slamming of your front doors echoing long in his ears.
So after all, he was the one who fucked things up. And only because he didn't listen.
Tag list: @someonekeepstakingmyusernames
So... first of all, sorry it took so long, I'm struggling with a writer's block, but I really wanted to finally finish and post this. It turned out more angsty than I intended, and I promise the next parts are gonna be better. I have no one to check for mistakes and grammar errors, and I typed it on my phone, so I'm sorry if there are any. Dunno when I'll write the next part, hopefully sooner than later. I hope you enjoyed it anyway! <3
#loki x reader#loki x y/n#loki#loki laufeyson#loki fanfic#reader insert#angst#loki angst#loki x reader angst#the road#something I need to know#hurts#fanfic#fanfiction#charliesworkshop
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Delicate
Summary: after you lose everything you made friends with some Serpents, but you worry your new feelings would ruin what you have
Word count: 2,616
Warnings: mentions of sex (that's about it I think)
A/N: This is a song fic with Taylor Swift's Delicate! this is the first fic I've posted in a few months so it might be pretty bad :|
This ain't for the best
My reputation's never been worse, so
You must like me for me
You used to be at the top of the social ladder in Riverdale High. You walked the halls with Cheryl Blossom and Reggie Mantle and the like. You were a co-captain of the Riverdale Vixens, proudly wearing the uniform and looking down at the people who could only wish to be like you. To be someone everyone knew and was invited to every party. Someone who could get a boyfriend with the snap of her fingers and get everything she wanted just by saying it. You used to be that person. Until your mom lost her job sending you both tumbling from the richest parts of the Northside to Sunnyside trailer park. It was nothing like your old life where you had a closet the size of the entire trailer and any type of food you had a craving for. Now you had a small dresser and two cabinets that held Cheerios, Graham crackers, and ramen noodles. You traded your high and mighty life at Riverdale High for being the new soft kid from the Northside at Southside High. It was as if you were standing on the top rung of the ladder and someone pushed you off, sending you crumbling down to the bottom not even getting a grip of it. Your reputation in Riverdale was ruined.
That's why you were surprised when on your third day in hell a certain Serpent named Fangs Fogarty decided to take a chance on the Northsider that stook out like a sore thumb and invited you to sit with him and his friends at lunch. Fangs didn't have much of an issue with your past but it took the others about three months for them to consider you worthy of being called a Southsider. One of the people who scoffed and rolled their eyes every time you appeared or spoke was Sweet Pea. But he even came around to you eventually, you becoming part of the group. Part of the Southside.
We can't make
Any promises now, can we, babe?
But you can make me a drink
You were finally okay with your new life after a year and a half when the news of Southside high closing traveled around. You were sent a letter in the mail that you would be transferred to Riverdale High effective by Monday of the next week. Riverdale High where everyone who used to adore you would now glare down at you for being one of the transfered students. Riverdale High where you knew there were rumours about what happened to your family and you were had been receiving hate for it. As soon as you read the letter you threw open the door to your trailer and made your way to the Whyte Wyrm, sitting down with a heavy sigh and your face twisted into an expression of rage.
"See the letter?" Sweet Pea asks, appearing in front of you from behind the worn bar counter. You don't reply, simply nodding and drumming your stiff fingers on the wood. "It'll be fine. You already know everyone."
"You don't understand." You say with a humourless smile and a shake of your head, "They're ruthless to anyone with remote connections to the South. I'm not going to be able to walk the halls by myself without getting the shit beaten out of me."
"Serpents wouldn't let that happen." Sweet Pea says referring to you joining four months prior. "That's a promise."
"Might be a hard one to keep." You sigh. "Can you make me a drink?"
As anticipated by you the first two months of being back at Riverdale High was horrid and filled with you getting pushed becoming the students physical and verbal punching bag. They threw words at you about how now you're Southside Serpent scum and no longer one of them. But eventually most of the Northsiders got bored of bullying you all and dropped it, mostly only Bulldogs and Vixens starting feuds. You'd eventually made friends with a few Northside kids you'd never noticed when you went there through Jughead including Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge, and Archie Andrews.
"So, I convinced my parents to let me use our lake house for the break." Veronica says as she sits down in the student lounge. "I figured we could all use it as a romantic getaway."
"Sounds great." Betty smiles for her and Jughead.
"You guys have fun with that." You sigh, leaning back in the couch.
"Aren't you going to come Y/n?" Archie asks, everyone turning towards you.
"I would but I don't exactly have someone to go with." You answer.
"Why don't you bring Sweet Pea?" Jughead suggests, raising his hand that rests on Betty's shoulder.
"Sweet and I- we're not like that. We're just friends." You stutter, trying to stop the heat creeping up your necks and onto your cheeks. You didn't want to even admit to yourself you'd grown to like the tall, quick tempered Serpent as more than a friend. The butterflies that flew in your stomach every time you saw your friend scared you because you knew it would change things so you stuffed the feelings way down inside of you and locked them in a box. That nobody was allowed to unlock or even see. Those feelings were off limits and would just turn everything into a mangled knot.
You see Veronica and Betty have a conversation with their eyes before turning towards you. "Bring him, it'll be a friend thing instead of a romantic getaway."
"No, you guys can have your date thing I'll just hang out with the Serpents." You reject, not wanting an extremely awkward week or to ruin theirs.
"Hangout with that Serpent with us." Veronica says with her "I'm not going to stop bugging you until I get my way" look. You sigh and press your lips into a line, looking between the two of your friends before speaking.
"If you guys can convince him to go, I'll go." You finally give immediately regretting it as the two of them look to Jughead.
You'd decided to leave to go to your locker, the others waiting for you to be out of ear shot before talking.
"Y/n and Sweet Pea like each other right?" Archie asks, turning to Jughead.
"Oh yeah definitely." He answers, stuffing a Dorito in his mouth.
"Which means we need them both to come." Veronica adds, quirking a brow as she smiles.
Your stomach flipped at the texts as you realized you just accepted to go on basically a date with Sweet Pea that you were technically forced to do. Still in disbelief the next morning you packed a bag filled with clothes and your basic necessities before walking outside, confused when you see Sweet Pea standing there.
"I was expecting to meet you there." You say, explaining your expression when he quirks a brow at you. He shrugs, hand scratching the back of his neck before falling back to his side.
"I figured I could give you a ride." He says, gesturing to his motorcycle leaning on its stand.
You look to your own propped against your house and look back at his, debating the decisions before walking towards Sweet Pea. He flashes you a small smile before swinging his leg over the seat, you doing the same and wrapping your arms around his torso. He revs the engine before pulling away from the trailer park and makes his way to the lake house using the directions Veronica had sent that morning. You tried to ignore how your heart seemed to stop whenever you remembered how close the two of you were, trying to keep your focus on the passing woods.
After about forty-five minutes you slowed to a stop in front of a house the size of the entire Sunnyside trailer park. The others approached you as you and Sweet Pea gaped at the building.
"You made it!" Veronica smiles, taking back your attention. "You two can set your stuff in your room."
"Room?" You ask, slight panic rising in your chest at the lack of a mention of separate rooms.
"My uh parents only gave me permission to use three so we're all two to a room." She says, not fully convincing you but you say nothing else knowing it would be a pointless conversation as you follow her into the house. "Last door on the right." Veronica says, you nodding and walking up the stairs with Sweet Pea behind you.
"Holy shit." You hear Sweet Pea breathe as you step inside. "This room is as big as four trailers."
There was a queen sized bed on one wall facing a wall made of windows with a door leading to a balcony. Another door sat on the wall next to it leading to a bathroom, the room complete with themed decorations. You both set down your bags and meet the others downstairs, the sun setting below the lake outside as you made small conversation and played a few games.
About an hour after the sun was out of sight you were all sitting in the hot tub with a drink in hand. While the others sat practically on top of one another you and Sweet Pea stayed a safe distance apart sometimes your arms brushing against each others causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You'd easily finished two drinks trying to loosen up and not be so tense when everyone was having fun. You just couldn't stop thinking about every little thing Sweet Pea did from the smile that grazed his lips when the others made jokes to how you could swear he was getting closer to you.
Events seemed to start blurring into each other, you hardly being able to give any of your focus to the others conversation. You hardly realized you were leaning against Sweet Peas side, his arm lazily hung around your shoulders.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." You excuse yourself climbing out of the hot tub.
"Are you okay?" Betty asks, observing your wobbled way of walking.
"I'm fine." You say, waving a hand at her right before slipping, twisting your ankle and landing hard on the stones around the water. You hear multiple people climb out as you groan and turn over on to your back, squinting your eyes.
"Y/n, are you okay?" Sweet Pea asks, helping you sit up as you rub your head.
"Totally." You groan, looking around at the others who give you looks of concern. "I'm probably gonna go uh lie down."
With that you attempt to stand up but wince and lift your leg at the pain from putting pressure on your ankle.
"Need help?" Pea asks, standing up next to you. You nod and he wraps an arm around you, trying to help you walk but you find it awfully hard to hop on one leg in your state. He shakes his head before scooping you up in his arms, carrying you the rest of the way inside. He gets you upstairs, setting you down on the bed but falling over and ending up on top of you, his cheeks burning bright red.
"I uh..." He says, opening and closing his mouth to finish his sentence but no words come out.
Third floor on the West Side, me and you
Handsome, your mansion with a view
Do the girls back home touch you like I do?
Long night, with your hands up in my hair
You look into his eyes, your hand coming up to cup his face before bringing your lips to his. He hesitates a moment before returning the kiss, moving himself fully above you. The once small kiss quickly turns heated, your hands roaming his body. Your lips trail down to his neck, sucking on the soft skin. His hands lace in your hair, tugging on the y/h/c locks occasionally.
That night you did something you'd never imagined would happen between you and Sweet Pea, not even thinking about how many boundaries were bring broken and how you weren't thinking of your delicate friendship.
The next morning when you woke up you immediately felt yourself go hot clammy finding your head on Sweet Peas chest with nothing but the bed sheets separating your skin from his. Your heart tightens in your chest as you back away from him, having to pry his arm from around your waist before retreating to the opposite side of the bed. Sweet Pea groans and opens his eyes as he sits up, the blanket falling off of his upper body as he does so. Your cheeks and ears burn bright red when he looked to you, your eyes holding his for a quick moment before looking down at the mattress.
Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it chill that you're in my head?
'Cause I know that it's delicate
Is it cool that I said all that
Is it too soon to do this yet?
'Cause I know that it's delicate
"Shit..." He mumbles. "Look I um-"
"It's fine." You cut him off in a small voice. You didn't mean to sound so scared but you were utterly terrified of this ruining everything the two of you had. "I just... I don't want this to change anything."
Sweet Pea nods, meeting your eyes again. You don't know why it hurt you to see regret slightly on his.
"I like you, Sweet Pea." You say, everything in you freezing as you say the thing you had barely admitted to yourself. You don't see any reaction on his face prompting you to rant out of nerves. "I thought that if I just ignored it it'd be fine but I can't get you out of my head. I know that you will probably not want to see me after this and I understand that it's just-"
Sweet Pea cuts you off by cupping your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your mouth went dry and you couldn't get any words out as your eyes scanned his face finding something you couldn't quite identify. One of the things on your mind was how you were practically shattering the delicate relationship you had. You felt like you were ruining everything and you just lost one of your closest friends because you were stupid and couldn't keep your emotions to yourself.
"I'm sorry. For all of this." You manage to say.
"Don't be." He says quietly. Neither of you quite understood the reason for being so quiet, maybe not to scare the other away with anything above a whisper. In seemingly slow motion he leans forwards until his lips are on yours soft and warm in a delicate kiss made of rose petals. Everything between you two was delicate from the way his hand gently held your face to whatever your relationship was now. But something that wasn't delicate was the fireworks you were seeing even though your eyes were closed, the colours exploding between the two of you. You both pull away, not getting very far as your foreheads press against each others.
"You're okay with this?" Sweet Pea asks, his breath lightly hitting your face.
"Of course." You smile before connecting your lips again, finally breaking through that delicate phase of your friendship and into a relationship that you'd always thought would never happen in that bed, a kiss being the bond in front of the sunrise over the lake making the whole moment even more perfect and warm and golden.
Cause I know that it's delicate
Delicate
#sweet pea x reader#sweet pea#sweet pea x you#sweet pea smut#sweet pea imagine#riverdale#riverdale fanfiction#riverdale imagine#veronica lodge#jughead jones#archie andrews#toni topaz#cheryl blossom#fangs fogarty#southside serpents#southside high
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11, please!
11. What are you planning to work on next?
Oh boy. What a loaded question you have chosen! 😅
So the answer is kinda complicated, and "planning" in and of itself is a dangerous concept for my brain when frolicking in the land of WIPs. But.
My attention in the last... maybe week or so? Has been on a mixture of Matador and Hazy 'verse items, with brief but earnest forays into Glassworks.
(more after the cut because I cannot stop talking but also don’t want to kill dashboards)
Matador: Of late, I'm in the fleshing-out stages of the "so you've caught yourself an asset" section. That is, our issues-laden Avengers crew (plus new-Avenger!Sam and considering-it!Sharon) will have a somewhat feral Asset!Bucky on their hands who is not there willingly and who does not trust his current captors. There's also plenty of other crap unfolding because I am incapable of simple plotlines.
Son of Matador: Of course, I'm also deeply enjoying the parts where we (and team Avengers) get to see the soft side of our murder dumpling, the excitement and fluff, the nicknames... (Tony is obnoxious, I swear, once he gets on a nickname kick).
And now it’s secret time. Every time I get comments on something, I run to read the comments, and then I read the something, and then my brain tries to drag me back to that something no matter what else I’m working on how how it’s going. So Hazy is also heavily on my mind, because there were comments on some Hazy things (this is also what put that last Fossilized thing out in the world--my brain is easily hijacked).
I'm revisiting and polishing up later chapters of Red Fish, particularly chapters wherein Things happen that are Horrible. (Naturally.) But also forest strolls with Polina and Vasily and the Soldier, and the baking of cookies with Vladimir and the Soldier, and yikes. Just all kinds of Red Fish stuff. Because that's the story that just... defies me, I guess. Refuses to get on with itself or let me work on "what happens next" as opposed to "what happens seventeen chapters from the last one you posted." Yes, that is an indication of how long that beast will be.
There's also a ton of one shots for Hazy that are clamoring for me to revisit them. There's the cooking grease. The eyeballs. The brick. But also the flower crowns, and the tree-climbing, and the bumblebee. So.
And Recovery wants some attention, even though I can't really start posting that thing until Hazy has another 100k in it at least, so... Sigh.
Aaaaand the Fossilized boys are digging at me to hurry up and just write some suffering so that I can write some relief from that suffering and then move on again. It's not often a Bucky wants me do this, but I do feel called to do it, and egged on by a Bucky no less.
Glassworks is still percolating, bubbling away, now that I've cleared out some roadblocks (with much help from @glittercake -- thank you, lady!) and gotten back in touch with my earlier intentions. That is for a Sambucky Big Bang, and so an item of some importance. That's probably why it's still playing coy.
Then there's two 'verses of the Sambucky bingo that I'm totally going to lose (but see Fossilized for an example of how I'll write every single fill even a year after the deadline if that's what it takes). Sam and Bucky are very intent on ruining my life with their demands, particularly since they follow those demands up by refusing to cooperate on the page, the little shits.
I've only got about 5 half-finished stories for the Got Milk series, and another two for the Selkie AU. So if any of those wanted to play nice and get themselves unstuck, I'd be ever so thankful, haha!
And of course Steve is wanting his chapter in the newest fic with all the goats to show up, mostly so he can show off his hair and be petulant and stuff.
Then there are the dark horses, lurking in the shadows and liable to pull a Matador and burst onto the scene with a flurry of activity and weekly posts until my need for sleep intervenes:
A second (technically the first, but not the one I started writing first) selkie AU featuring a very different Selkie!Bucky in a pairing with Tony. That one is way darker, with way more violence, way less fun magic, and oh so much more HYDRA.
A Venom AU (does it count as an AU?) where Venom and pals crash land somewhere else, far earlier, and Venom gets to bond with a still very brainwashed Winter Soldier.
Then there are centaurs, no-powers graduate students, merfolk, faeries, that Aquaman idea I'm trying not to think about...
So the summary of the really long answer is: Whatever I plan has no relevance whatsoever to what will actually happen, more's the pity. I have zero ideas what thing will get updated next, or which new thing will show up.
The actual short answer (and the short-sighted answer because plans are helpless against my brain's whims) is: I really want to work on the sequel to the Rescue Spooning Selkie AU, because I feel like I'm nearly there for that one, and it has some fun moments in it. Plus, if I can get that out, I can dump other one-offs from that 'verse into the series and not worry too much about continuity, preparing the way for the eventual third "big" fic in the series (where "big" means "anchor piece" rather than "large in size") where Sam and Bucky go undercover in a cryptid village.
Runner up is Glassworks, because once I dig back into it, I have a feeling I can make a ton of progress now that I have the course corrections ironed out. Clint and Sam have already been having "it's 3 am and the writer wants to be sleeping, so let's talk about how to help you woo Bucky despite him being a dumbass" conversations.
Thank you for the ask!
If anyone else wants to ask me something, please feel welcome! That post with all the questions is here:
https://flamingo-queen-writes.tumblr.com/post/619321117992189952/writer-ask-meme
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HAHAHAHA 😂 That'd be brilliant 😂
Hmm, I'd agree with the binging but minor details would get lost with such an approach as well 🤔 But yes, if the writer has been doing it for years and has been around for all of it, they really should not mess up so terribly, especially concerning such major things...🙁 (Sometimes I wonder if we are just too obsessed and in-love with details and perfection and everybody else doesn't give a shit about these things...😭)
Haha, thanks😊 Hopefully I'll get it outta the way by next week cause I seriously just wanna sleep and write stuff I actually want to write without ANY citing AT ALL. (I'd love to meet whoever came up with that just to punch them in the face for making many MANY people's lives unnecessarily harder...😑)
See! Finish your own first before you use mine as an argument!😝😂 (Apropos your stories: Just binge re-read a few of them and now I remember that I really did read "This Is The Life" like a year ago😂 And "Hard Rock Halleluja" never stop being funny tho I definitely forgot about that PatD reference... What do you have against them?😅 OH, and FINISH "NIGHT OF THE HUNTER"! Rereading that reminded me of the absolute brainfuck it caused me and I NEED TO KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING😭 Like, don't just leave so much mystery uncovered 😭😭😭😭)
Ohh, you learnt English mostly by yourself?😱 That's seriously amazing😍 And haha, I can definitely agree on it being brutal and a struggle (Seriously, I feel like any time I sit down to write I forget any and all vocabulary😅) but uff writing in anything but English would be sooo cringe-y for me, it'd just sound ridiculously awkward haha😂 (Tho now you make me wanna learn polish not only just because (which I'd love to do with all languages) but also so I could make you write in polish and read that and compare how different your writing might be in the two languages😂)
Angst genius? Yep 😂 But maybe let's not call her a "horrible horrible human being"?🙈 She's just SO nice, too nice🙊🙈 I can't even jokingly claim anything to the opposite🙈
...Oh, Wait, I just remembered I don't like humans, so calling her a "horrible, horrible human being" would kinda be a compliment since it twice negates thus she is awesome, right? 🤔 Okay, then yes, I agree with you😂
Yess, hopefully I'll get it done soon🙈💃🏻
Ohhh😍😍😍😍 I'm so itching to reaaaaddd itttttt😍😍😍🤩🤩🤩
Omg...Pinky and the Brain?🤣🤣 Ahh, the good ol' times 😁
XXXXX
Wonder if there are fics about it xD
I guess, but there should be some editors who would just KNOW the whole story and could point inconsistency. sorry not sorry but you can't tell me tehy are too POOR to hire ONE person for that.
Plus, seriously, sometimes all you need to do is watching an ep one times to remeber things. But yeah, i think you nailed the problem - we simply love the characters while I got a feeling the writers don't. As simple as thath.
Lol, citing? Goo dol' life. I'm happy this times are far behind me xD But go go go! You can do it! *Cas throat singing-cheering in the background*
But we talk about not unfinished fics, but about unwritten ideas :P
(Thanks xD I have nothing against PatD because I don't listen to them XD I just needed some popular bands, so most of the people whould recognize them, that's it :) sighs, I will write Night after i finish Definite. Probably I will need to refresh my mind, becasue half of my brilliant ideas are already forgotten, but don't worry, this bitch is going to finish it... someday. Probably much earlier than LW and PiaD, tho xD
I mean, I had English at school, but I can't call the proces learning, just surviving. I seriosuly started to learn it, when i started watching anime with English subtitles and read fanfics. Bascially, when I started needing it to understand a shit. And talking with people (arguing...?) online helped too.
Learn Polish, it's fun! W Szczebrzeszynie chrąszcz brzmi w trzcinie!
See? Horrible human being, at least on some parts.
Will be post... soonish. And people are going to hate me *MUHAHAHAAHAHAH* and then one more ep and we are finished!
Lol, I see most of the people I write for, know this cartoon, GOOD xD
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