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clairelsonao3 · 7 months

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Author Ask Tag Game

Thanks to @i-can-even-burn-salad @tabswrites and @mysticstarlightduck for this tag a few weeks ago, around the time I took a break from tag games. Back on the horse, though.

1) What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

I don't really "choose" lessons or themes. They emerge. But if Good Slaves Never Break the Rules had a lesson, it's probably about The Power of Love, not only romantic love, even though it's a romance, but love for our fellow humans and love for ourselves. And the power of choosing love over hate, despite how cruelly we may have been hurt in the past -- or how we may have hurt (or perceive that we have hurt) others.

2) What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

The world of GSNBTR owes a lot to (mostly) fanfics with modern slavery AUs that I have read and enjoyed over the years. I basically took all my favorite elements from those stories, mashed them together, and threw in a few of my own unique touches. And of course, the worldbuilding has expanded from there, in many cases in much more detail than I imagined it would when I started.

3) What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

My two MCs both start out with their separate goals -- her to get through university and become independent, him to find his sister -- which end up merging into one singular goal (save their loved ones and defeat the villain, essentially) by the end of the story. Learning to trust and work together is part of the journey they undergo, and with their individual strengths, they end up making an incredible team. So I guess demonstrating that is what I'm trying to achieve with them.

I want to make readers feel something. It doesn't even have to be necessarily what I feel, or what I set out to make others feel. If you feel anything -- love, fear, sadness, shock, hate, disgust -- while reading this, my work here is done.

4) How many chapters is your story going to have?

At this point (I just posted Ch. 27), I suspect not more than 40, give or take. (But take this with a grain of salt; the number has already expanded several times). We are in Act III and it's outlined in detail, with may of the scenes at least partially written, but I'm just not sure how long each chapter/scene is ultimately going to be and how and where they'll be divided. I have an idea of that, but I can't decide it ahead of time; I only know when I sit down to write and edit the chapters.

5) Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original (although I'm not afraid to admit there are some fannish elements/tropes to it) and I'm posting it on Ao3! It will eventually be an ebook as well. It probably won't ever migrate over to Tumblr, unfortunately, not only because of the time and energy that would require but also because the NSFW and romance elements make it much better suited for Ao3, I feel. Also, having it in one place only allows me to gauge exactly how many people have read it and engaged with it (not that that really matters, but still!)

6) When and why did you start writing?

When? As soon as I could pick up a pencil and string together letters on a page to form words. Why? Because telling stories is in my blood (literally; my dad is also a writer).

7) Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

Write what you want. It sounds simple, but I spent way too many years of my writing life writing what I thought OTHER people wanted, and it almost derailed my ability to write altogether because it made me so damn miserable.

For newer writers: If you find yourself beginning a writing question with the words "Is it okay to..." or "Can I..." just stop right there. The answer is "yes."

I follow more people than just about anyone I know and I think most of them are writers; it's in the 4 digits. So I'm going to put this question aside for now and start working on a post of my favorite Tumblr writers and stories, so for future similar questions, I'll be able to direct you to that.

This one was going around a few weeks ago and IDK who's done it so OPEN TAG!

Template under the cut

1) What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

2) What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

3) What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

4) How many chapters is your story going to have?

5) Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

6) When and why did you start writing?

7) Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

#my writing #gsnbtr #tag game

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charliespringverse · 8 months

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iwbft — thursday: a brief summary of my annotations

all highlighted quotes: 135

· ouch/ow/owie: 7

· real/felt/relatable/so true: 0

· aroace: 0

· ☹/☹☹/☹☹☹: 3

I like knowing that I've been there since the beginning. — lol hipster... me w BiT tho

I can't stop myself laughing, trapped under the cape, and I catch a glimpse of Lister grinning at me, a soft smile, one that reminds me of years ago, back when this was all new and exciting and fun, back when we really were children. — god i love this bit . it is so gentle and tender

People are coming up with some hilarious explanations for the Jowan photo and the Rowan/Bliss reveal, such as it's a ploy by their management, out to stir up some extra publicity to keep attention on The Ark [...] — devastating phrasing for rpf shippers everywhere

it didn't destroy me in the way I thought it would when the news eventually came that Jowan, love itself, wasn't real.. Maybe I sort of knew it was a lie all along. — 10 points for recognising that rpf ships aren't real, -2 for the nihilistic depressive worldview . get therapy x

Unpleasant phone call? Yesterday morning? I heard nothing about that. — well u definitely heard Hints but i'll let u off due to the autism x

Playing our songs when the entire audience is empty is always a laugh, because we're just playing for ourselves, and we can deliberately get stuff wrong and play games like Lister trying to get us out of time and Rowan adding in harmonies where there aren't normally and me changing the lyrics of our most famous songs. — i'd die for them fr LET THESE BOYS HAVE FUN MORE OFTEN

every time the laughing stops his expression drops and he looks like he's about to cry. — me when i leave my friend's house & the mental illness comes back

He just leans in and kisses me. My stomach lurches. Not because I'm excited, but because I'm shocked and I'm getting flashbacks of the last time I did this. Never my idea, is it? I want to, I want to kiss a boy in some dramatic way but I don't too, not when it doesn't feel right. — ☹ bad parallel

You think you've got it all sorted but you don't! You're just the same as me. You're both just as bad as I am. — ,,,,, he's not far wrong tbf

'You don't have to... like me back,' he says, and his voice breaks but I can't tell whether he's laughing or trying not to cry. 'But please don't hate me.' — AGONY (note: this is written in huge letters)

I thought the three of us would be friends forever. I can't deal with these unsaid feelings. I don't want to know about them. I don't want to think about them. — kick me in the cooch it'd hurt less

'Everything's bad.' 'Nothing bad is going to happen to you.' But it feels like it is. 'I am not afraid,' says Rowan softly. 'Remember?' — KILL ME OFF (note: this is written in huge letters)

I'm gone, I'm already gone, I'm up above the three of us and gazing down at the three bodies and wondering who on Earth decided that these three pathetically flawed human beings deserved so much worship. — i wanna write an essay on depersonalisation in jimmy's narration

Jimmy's smile is so wide - a youthful, dreamlike grin - as he gazes over the crowd — to the tune of the maybelline jingle: maybe it's a youthful dreamlike grin, maybe it's dissociation

There is something inexplicable tying them together. — it's trauma

Most fans would defend them until their last breath, form an army to keep them from harm or discomfort. — can't speak to how deliberate this was but . army in the bts sense is a fun connection

I didn't get to meet The Ark. I didn't get to tell them anything. — give it a day luv x

I am dragged into the flood. — BORN TO SURVIVE THE STORM BORN TO SURVIVE THE FLOOD

He doesn't look like himself without the airy smile that I always see in the photos and videos. — false! he looks more like himself then you've ever seen!

Of course he looks impossibly beautiful too. I desperately want to hold him. — NOT THE TIME

He's afraid of me. Me. Me. The human embodiment of a caterpillar. — something something self perception vs other ppl's perception, parallels the fandom vs celebrity experience something something

His eyes are wide and fearful. The beauty that I'd admired there has gone. — he's becoming real...

It just makes me feel like I'm really here. Holding this piece of me in my hand. — depersonalisation & grounding .......

God, I want to hug him. I want to hold him and let him cry gently into my shoulder. — not the time for a wattpad self-insert y/n imagine queen

I just stop registering what's happening around me. It's not really happening to me. It's all just happening to this body that people call Jimmy Kaga-Ricci. — depersonalisation!!!!!

It's funny because it's true. — TORI?

'I'm not in here any more,' I say, pointing at my chest. 'This is all happening to someone else.' 'Are you... okay?' I laugh at him again. — depersonalisation (note: this is in big letters and double underlined)

I'm sure that when The Ark arrive, I'll feel happy. I know that when The Ark arrive, I will feel happy. — ow . it's almost like relying on external factors to fix ur mental health is like a plaster on a bullet hole

I'm sure that when we start playing, I'll feel happy. — they're so nsync

Why do I feel like he's died when he's right there in front of me? — because you loved a fantasy and now reality has kicked in amen

I just turn back and stare up at them, waiting, praying for something good to happen, something good to make me feel okay again, just as it always has until today. But I don't feel anything. — yeah yeah the emotional void we all know it

— future college/uni essay idea: religion vs fandom with a specific focus on the osemanverse/hstv fandom w iwbft & rs as backup

#posting this at 4am friday bc i was toddler sitting all afternoon and then Wiped Tf Out w a pain & fatigue wave all evening #but heyyyy to those of u that check the tag like the morning paper #iwbftreread #side note i should've added a counter for how many bastard times i reference depersonalisation #a job for a future reread i think #also that final one isn't tied to a specific quote i just find it interesting . bc the way the exact fandom toxicity alice has been —#— exploring in their work for years has started playing out in (some parts) of the hs fandom is so interesting to me #also infuriating . but also i find the most interesting things tend to also be a fair bit infuriating

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mars101 · 6 months

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Act 3: -> Scene 2: about that..

WRITTEN PART -> (0.8) -> no ss after text

"oh no, what if im too slow omg"

yin was currently dashing towards the entrance of the small hotel. her quick steps leaving behind a trail of dust, lies of course but she's still sprinting pretty fast.

she eventually reached the entrance where she saw three familiar looking men standing around the small outdoor area. before heading out to greet them she looks in a nearby mirror to tidy up herself after running to where she's at currently.

“can i help you guys?”

excitement fills yin's body as she approaches the three men. her hands sweating behind her back as she's having trouble with the fact that she's looking at her possible father.

“Ah yes, we're here for the wedding! I'm Lee Juyeon”

“Lee Hyunjae”

“Kim Younghoon.. you are expecting us right?”

“yes! welcome, it's good that you all made it”

The three men look at the familiar features of Yin, “Are you.. Y/n's daughter..?” Younghoon asks Yin as he takes a small step forward.

“Of course she's Y/n's daughter! Look at her she looks just like her, Yin right?”

yin gasps at the fact that juyeon knows her name, “omg how do you know my name?” her hand lightly covers her mouth as she looks over at him.

“Hmmm lucky guess, I had an aunt that lived here with the same name”

“oh? im named after a yin..who lived.. here..”

the two of them tilted their heads in confusion.

“hmmm….”

“Is it alright if we head to the room now? I feel like we should ready ourselves before we see your mom, it's been a while for all of us..”

“oh right! uhm lets go there now, wait- lets go through the side instead of the main entrance.. its a shortcut..”

Yin led the men torwards their makeshift room in the attic of the garden's backhouse. She didn't want her mom to notice their names on the list of guests in the hotel so she made the place as cozy as possible for them. Which wasn't a problem considering Yin and Y/n always kept it clean.

“Oh… Uhm, can we go to our room now..?”

Juyeon pats Younghoon on the shoulder, “I'm pretty sure this is our room, it's cute by the way.” He then lays on one of the “beds” that Yin set up, getting cozy.

“thank you and uhm.. there's one tiny small thing i gotta tell you..i sent the invites my mom doesn't know anything..hehe”

“Oh god..”

“okay well i think this would be a good surprise for my mom since well she's done so much for me and she's always talking about you guys and the good old days,” lies. “and i thought what what an amazing surprise for her.. that you are all going to be at my wedding..”

Younghoon sighs and plops down on the bed Juyeon was laying on, “Look Yin, if it was you who sent the letter then I can't be here. Last time I saw your mom she said she never wanted to see me again

“well that was years ago! please, it would mean a lot to me..”

“Why?-”

“look, when i sent the invites i didn't even know if any of you would even see them. but the fact that all three of you are here after seeing my mom's name on the letter means something…doesn't it?”

Groans and chuckles were shared among the three men at the words of Yin, “You are just like your mother do you know that? Such trouble”

“hey! i love hearing that i'm just like her, i'm very proud about it”

Just then, Y/n's humming is heard from outside of the place. The men perk up at the sound of her, “Is that..?”

“yes! but..stay quiet, make sure she doesn't see you guys” yin opens up a window and moves to hop out, “Yin do you need help?” “oh im good, done this many times before. please make sure you come to my wedding byebye!” she hops out of the window, closing it with a slam.

as she fixes herself while on the ground she notices karina and yuna behind a tree waving her over. with a confused look she heads over to them, “are you guys ‘hiding’?? you are two people behind a single tree” yuna shushes her, “shh, we followed your mom here, are they in there?”

“yes they’re in there, i’ve never been so nervous in my life”

“you proposed.”

“and for that i was more excited..anyways-”

“do you know which one is your dad?”

“about that..”

the girls roll their eyes at yin, “go figure, omg we expected this

“babe, it’s only been a few minutes how would i know??”

“okay miss “ill know it when i see them” you are a liarrr”

their conversation was cut short when they hear the door being slammed open and they see y/n bolting out, eyes slowly filling with tears.

“wtf happened…”

synopsis = a day before her wedding day, Yin decides to find her father so he can walk her down the isle, the problem? There's three candidates: Lee Juyeon, Kim Younghoon, and Lee Hyunjae.

last/next

masterlist

taglist:

@boomhoon, @sanasour, @loonaluvz, @jaerisdiction, @cowsmicwu, @jundundun

#tbz imagines #tbz smau #tbz x reader #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz smau #the boyz x reader #hyunjae x reader #juyeon x reader #younghoon x reader #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae smau #juyeon smau #younghoon smau

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isaiahbie · 5 months

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The Way Up Is Down

William Carey said, “Expect great things from God. Attempt great things for God.”

When I first heard those words, I began forming thoughts about “great things for God” and how I might someday be a part of them.

That was a little over ten years ago. Since then, I have grown cautious, even reluctant, about Carey’s words. To be sure, William Carey was a humble man whom God used mightily. His call to action meant and still means a lot to me. But there can be a fine line between attempting “great things” for God and attempting those same things for oneself. Not all are able to discern that line. It is easy to conflate the two, and Scripture urges caution about the latter:

“Do you seek great things for yourself? Seek them not” (Jeremiah 45:5).

The world’s mindset tends to think success is God’s reward for faithfulness. “God helps those who help themselves,” we have heard it said. But biblically, success is more a test of faithfulness than it is a reward for it. As Josef Tson once warned, 90% of us will pass the test of adversity but fail the test of prosperity.

Because He knew how the human heart operates, Jesus warned His disciples as they became enthralled with their own ascending “influencer” status:

“Do not rejoice in this. Instead, rejoice that your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20).

Jesus was fully God, but took the low place among humans. In doing so, He became the model for what Harvard scholar Henri Nouwen called “downward mobility”:

“In the center of our faith as Christians stands the mystery that God chose to reveal His divinity to us by submitting Himself unreservedly to the downward pull. . . He moved from power to powerlessness, from greatness to smallness, from success to failure, from strength to weakness, from glory to ignominy. The whole life of Jesus of Nazareth was a life in which all upward mobility was resisted.”¹

Nouwen followed in the Nazarene’s footsteps when he left the prestige of Harvard for the relative obscurity of serving women and men with intellectual and developmental disabilities at the L’Arche community in Canada.

Long before Nouwen, there was Jesus. After making galaxies, banana trees, eyeballs, and fingerprints by the word of His power, He made His own debut on earth as an infant born of teen parents with meager means and the vulnerability of migrants. He received no formal education, did blue-collar work, never married or had a traditional family, and had no place to lay His head. His appearance was unremarkable (Isaiah 53:2). Most misunderstood Him and kept their distance including His nuclear family, closest friends, and ministry colleagues. All of these stood by Him when His popularity was intact, but fled when He lost favor. Falsely accused and slandered, He got kicked to the curb like vermin. He wore the scarlet letter, but with purpose. It was the only way that our sins, though they be as scarlet, could be washed whiter than snow.

Jesus made Himself nothing, and we were willing to label Him a villain and treat Him as our scapegoat to reap the benefits. Compelled by love for His enemies, He embraced the role. He was born for it. It’s why Christmas happened.

Following Christ includes being less concerned with chasing platform, power, likes, follows, “influencer” vibes, and winning, and more focused on getting low. The way up is the way down. We ascend by descending. We become more by becoming less.

For Christ, this meant death. For us, it means accepting loss and obscurity if that’s what it takes to be at home with Christ. It means valuing steady, humdrum faithfulness more than shiny, shallow platforms. It means becoming at ease with brokenness, contrition, and humility and distancing ourselves from ego, pride, and “project self.” It means chasing character more than chasing reputation. It means nurturing a kind and curious heart, and moving past needing to be respected or right.

I don’t know how your year has been, but 2023 has been hard for me. By themselves, the harder chapters of life can discourage. But with God, future glory will resolve all past regret, present hurt, and future fear. As C. S. Lewis reminds us, heaven will work backwards and turn agony into glory. Today we see through a mirror dimly, but on that day, we will see everything face to face. What better reason could there be to live in hope? If Christmas teaches us anything, it is that downward mobility is good, and the best is still to come.

Notes:

¹ Henry Nouwen, The Selfless Way of Christ: Downward Mobility and the Spiritual Life, 2011.

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yellowfractures · 11 months

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2014

Hi,

I promised myself I would write you something…..since 2 years ago. But,I just not could not think of the… hook. I could not figure out the central theme, or the right keyword. Perhaps I also have so much to say. And perhaps, you did too good of a job. 12 AM Facetime, after work dinner, new demo snippet on Whatsapp, you were present for it all. Patiently listening to all my ramblings on the other end, and brilliantly summarising my feelings for me.

But I got it this time around. It’s been around for a few weeks, and I have been mentally draft this letter when I am driving or during my lunch break. The keyword is:

Our 17-year-old self.

The year before we met.

When I revisit my 17-year-old self, through the writings, Tumblr posts, journal or the scribbles in all my novels. “Not too bad”, I would say to myself. In fact, I was quite impressed with the wisdom etched in between all the paragraphs. The codex, weird metaphors that strangely still could be deciphered (but requires a lot of effort). I wrote so much about wanting to be understood and yet I didn’t make it easy. Huh.

At the same time, I think about how weird it must have been. For her. For me. My bubble-wrapped sheltered reality. The pastel blue and pink painted building of my school. Just exactly what did I think I go through that I would go mopping around listening to Bon Iver,

“Only love is all maroon”

When the rain falls at night time, our wired earphones on, iPod playing Lydia’s Hospital and we could almost feel, oh no we didn’t just understand. We feel it in our bones when she said “So I’ve been sleeping with this silence in my mind”

We felt so much. Whatever gibberish Alex was writing about in No 1 Party Anthem. I take it for what it is, and it creates a silhouette. That, if I were to dote on someone someday, it must have felt like this.

I kinda want to celebrate her. Her hopefulness for this world, bright-eyed clueless about what life was gonna throw on her next. I kinda want to celebrate her wisdom. In the caution and the fear.

The first dip in loneliness. Those were some strong themes in my writings too, back then.

And I would have imagined, they were present in yours too. All the intensity, all the “overwhelming-ness”, the

“You felt too much”

If our 17-year-old selves would meet, I think they would hit it up right away. Can you imagine, us attending the same driving school? In the middle of the break from the insane 9 hours class, I caught you listening to Franz Ferdinand. And I would definitely for sure, nudge at you quietly. “Those are great songs” and we would excitedly scroll through each others’ playlists. And we would spend the rest of the class sheepishly giggling over stupid jokes we would make.

But of course, we did not meet through driving school.

And to be honest, it did not matter how and why we would meet and become friends.

It was just only a matter of time.

We were always going to be friends.

Always will.

All the things that moved us (and trust us to be moved so easily by things), all the times we have told “too much”, “touchy-feeling”, overflowing with emotions and all the metaphors that kept on going in circles. At that time, they have just not met their Aida yet.

And we grow bigger. So does the span of our emotions. We found our ground to walk on. We read books we used to find boring, we tried out things that we used to be so scared of. And they turned out okay. The ocean inside ourselves, which used to feel like swimming inside an infinite of self-doubt now has become a depth that we can comfortably navigate. The reflection in the mirror, these days feels less distorted. And we accept the fact that these things may change too one day.

But now, we have wisdom collected from our own experience to navigate that changes. Thank God. I accepted the fact that Ghost Stories can only explain a snippet of longing, yearning or grieving. But my own experience is encompassing.

The laughter. The joy. All the tears. Anxiety. Humour. Tragedy.

And at the heart of it all.

You.

Never cynical. Full of kindness. Sincere.

Our fated friendship, and trust me that I would insist on being part of your life for a very long long time. This is love that is a gift from God.

I would have really loved you at 17.

And I still really love you at 26.

Happy birthday, my best friend.

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minorhoursmagazine · 2 years

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Issue 15, containing: A Giving of Thanks, A Holiday Meal Plan, A Chili Recipe, Letters, Commonplaces, &c.

------------------------------

SOME EDITORIAL NOTES

It would be very nice if I could be consistent with these -- but then, many things would be nice. I think I can find some pleasure in the fact that I've made it to 15 issues. And that the weather continues fine, and that banana bread muffins remain delicious.

------------------------------

A GIVING OF THANKS

My children are not alone, I think, in a general disdain for the "normal" foods of Thanksgiving -- they are iffy on the topic of turkey, are uninterested in mashed potatoes and gravy, and have a horror of the multitude of vegetables available. As a single mother with two small ones, I long ago had to find a balance between things like "overwhelming leftovers" and "ornery tastebuds" to come up with a holiday that actually made sense for everyone.

(Additionally, I'm not hugely interested in perpetuating cheerful historical lies, so that whole aspect has also been thrown out the window.)

After exactly one Thanksgiving where I put together a traditional meal and then had to live with weeks' worth of leftovers that no one but me wanted, I changed my approach. The next year, I sat the kids down and asked them what food they felt thankful for. Not what they thought they should want, or what was traditionally part of Thanksgiving -- just, the food that they were glad existed in the world.

I don't make them justify their choices, and we inevitably end up cutting down the potential menu so that it's actually manageable within a day. But ever since we started approaching it from that angle, it gives the children a chance to choose their own menus based on their own likes, and every year there's a change that reflects who they are and who they're becoming.

This has extended to how I approach Thanksgiving for myself as well. One of my favorite Thanksgivings was one I spent with friends who'd mistaken the day a Friendsgiving party was supposed to happen, and we found ourselves at 2 PM on Thursday with an empty pantry and short tempers. I went out to a late-open shop and considered the foods that I myself was thankful for -- and I ended up with a bag full of eggnog, pecan pie, cranberry orange relish, and about five different weird cheeses. I brought it back, and laid out the food, sharing the food I loved with the people I loved.

That, I think, is the basis of how I approach this holiday now. I spend it with people I love, and we share what we love with each other.

------------------------------

A HOLIDAY MEAL PLAN

Spaghetti with butter Pizza bagels Croissants McIntosh apples Clementines Roasted potato wedges Jello Chocolate cake Apple pie Banana bread muffins Apple juice Lemonade Chocolate milk Chili (for me)

------------------------------

A CHILI RECIPE

I get my love of chili from my mother, who despite being born in Florida was Texan through and through. The chili recipe I have from her is (as she wrote herself) more guidelines than anything else, and I've modified it for myself as well. It bears her principles, though. And as such, I don't have a proper recipe. I have, instead, a list of ingredients not to forget, and the gentle belief that it'll turn out all right in the end.

meat

1/2 onion

green pepper

corn

beans

diced tomatoes

tomato paste

garlic

pepper

chili powder

cinnamon

cumin

salt

ground chili

thyme

rosemary

apple cider vinegar

soy sauce

sriracha

I'm thankful for this chili. I'm thankful that I got to watch my mother make it, and the warmth and fullness it gave me over the years. I'm thankful that I have those memories. I'm thankful that I'm here to make it in her memory.

------------------------------

LETTERS

From the Potatoes, to the Children, "We Are Reasonably Surprised You Enjoy Us":

We had thought that potatoes in any form would be tossed out with the rest of the traditional Thanksgiving menu. This appears to not be the case. Can we interest you in potato soup? How about scalloped potatoes? Potatoes in any form that can't be readily mistaken for french fries? Maybe?

******

From the Magazine, to the Chili, "Wow":

We think you might be the best chili we've ever made. Thanks. To whoever.

------------------------------

COMMONPLACES

From Richard Jackson's "Basic Algebra":

“It was a mistake to keep this single knife in my heart so long, but it is my knife, and my heart, too.”

******

From lookninja's "767":

It all gets swept away, of course I’m not arguing that. It all falls into the lake; it all is covered in kudzu, japanese knotweed; it all goes in the end. But there are other worlds than these, and there are beginnings that haven’t happened yet and you can lose something you love and still fall in love again tomorrow.

******

From Danusha Laméris's "Small Kindnesses":

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.

------------------------------

ANNOUNCEMENTS

If you would like to write a letter to be produced/answered in the magazine, please email me at [email protected] with the subject line:

Letter to the Magazine: [subject of letter as you would like to see it printed]

If you wish the letter to be anonymous or under a nom de plume, please state so in the body of the email; similarly, if you'd rather not be printed at all, please also state so in the body of the email. It will otherwise be assumed that mail sent to that address is intended for print.

Alternately, commenting on the Patreon post will get you a similar result, with much less fuss.

******

As always, you can find me at my regular website, katherinecrighton.com, or via twitter, at @c_katherine.

To support the magazine and get it delivered directly to your inbox, join the Patreon.

-Until next week, be safe.

#the minor hours and small thoughts magazine #katherine crighton #november 29 2020

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conscious-love · 3 years

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Why Holding On To Past Relationships Is The Worst Thing You Can Do For Yourself, Period

by Daniel Dowling via MindBodyGreen

Three years ago I was a 24-year-old failure-to-launch who lived on his mom’s couch and shared a bathroom with two teenage sisters. My friends had their own houses, degrees, and independence. And there I was, broke and depressed, totally reliant on my parents. It hadn't ever not been that way.

But in 2014 I made one small decision, which led to results I still sometimes can’t believe.

Today, I’m leading writers in a national campaign to rebrand my hometown, and I write for the best entrepreneurial and self-improvement sites in the world (mbg being my favorite; no lie). I make a great living coaching others to become the happiest and most successful versions of themselves. That’s a lot of change in just three years, from any perspective. And I can trace the transformation of my life back to one single thing: letting go of my exes—completely.

Breaking free from serial monogamy.

For most of my adult life I’d been a serial monogamist. I thought I just really loved love, but it turns out I was just really, really afraid of responsibility. So, for my personal dissatisfaction and unhappiness, self-improvement wasn’t the cure—it was a new girlfriend! And when that one didn’t work out, I'd find another. Yay for love!

Except it wasn’t love because I wasn’t becoming the best version of myself through these relationships. So after the last one ended ignominiously, I quit the love game—just not quite all the way.

I still kept in contact with my exes. And Jen—my former fiancee—was a particular crutch. We still visited each other even though we lived in different states. We kept in regular contact through texts and phone calls, especially during crises. I was still depending on her to make me happy.

Every time we talked, I renewed the connection to my former ways of thinking and behaving. It strengthened the conviction that, deep down, I could only be happy with Jen. She was my way out. If things got too tough, I could always come to her, and she could come to me. We even promised that if we weren’t married by 30, we’d get hitched. Talk about a safety net… (and, yes, also the plot of My Best Friend's Wedding).

Unfortunately, that safety net was keeping me from being the bold, successful, independent man I wanted to become. I just couldn’t seem to cut the cord on my own.

Flying without a net.

Then one day I was listening to an audio course from my favorite self-improvement mentor, Zig Ziglar. He was talking about how to right our wrongs and forgive ourselves. He advised writing apologies down and sending them to the appropriate people. But he had a special step for exes.

"When it comes to the forgiveness you want from your exes [Zig has a drawling Southern accent], I want you to follow all the steps I just gave you. But instead of sending off the letter, I want you to fold it up, light a fire, and burn the damn thing. Cuz there’s no point in renewing emotional connections with people who aren’t good for you. That’s why they're your exes! It’s time to move on from them and fully embrace your own life."

When one is slapped by truth, one’s jaw has a tendency of dropping, and the eyes have a tendency to glaze over, lost in a thousand-yard stare. That was the picture of my face. Might’ve even drooled a little.

I thought about Jen, and Em, and Katie. I thought about how important they’d been for me and how much security they’d brought me. And I knew I had to let them go for good. For good.

No more texts or calls. No more being Facebook friends. No email updates. No nothing.

I had anxiety about the decision, naturally—severing ties with my past and obliterating a huge comfort zone. But I had a future to step into. I had to do that on my own.

Dealing with the emptiness.

I missed my former girlfriends like crazy. But instead of feeling sorry for myself and longing for them, I prayed for them. I asked God for the same things I was asking for my own self-improvement journey—courage, faith, hope, positivity, inspiration, grace, and so on. I prayed for them to meet amazing and inspiring friends who could help them become their best selves. I prayed for my future wife. And I prayed that I would become the fully independent man capable of supporting her.

In all this praying, I completely changed my focus. Instead of relying on my girlfriends for faith and reassurance, I relied on God and my own ability to handle my problems. I took back the misplaced faith in my girlfriends and put it squarely in my own hands.

That’s when I finally launched.

Do you believe in life after love?

Just like Cher, I found my power only after letting go of my past relationships.

Without my exes as safety nets, it was just me. Nobody else was going to make me happy. So I did what I needed to do to make me successful—all the writing, studying, practicing, pitching, researching, and self-improvement. I actually become part of a community and made new friends. I fully embraced my own damn life.

Three months passed and I still missed my exes. But I was making money through my writing and making new connections.

Six months passed and I still missed my exes. But I’d started earning a full-time living through my writing. And I was growing more confident by the day, especially in my community.

A year passed and I still missed my exes. But I was fully independent through my passion. And I’d outgrown the anxiety and depression that had haunted me since I was a teenager—a by-product of my newfound faith in me.

It’s been three full years since I cut out my exes. I’m 100 percent over each one, but I’m human—I still miss them! Who wouldn’t? They were brilliant and beautiful women who were insanely fun to be with. I made thousands of joyful memories with each one.

Sometimes I’m reminded of them by hearing a certain song or watching a movie. But that’s just another opportunity for me to thank God for them and to pray for them. It’s another opportunity for me to be the independent and faithful man I know I can be for myself, for my wife, for my clients, and for my audience. It’s another opportunity to find security in myself and in a higher power. And through these opportunities, I’ve found the happiness and fulfillment I always wanted.

I advise all of my clients to go on a yearlong relationship fast, which most of them do. But the real growth comes when they fully let go of their exes and stop using them as crutches. It’s hard, hard, hard to do but absolutely essential if you want to grow.

Here are five tips to help you let go of your exes for good:

1. Start a self-improvement routine, complete with daily, weekly, and monthly goal setting.

Read this article as a primer.

2. Meet with someone weekly to discuss your personal growth and your journey.

This person will help keep you accountable to your goals and lifestyle choices. Can be a friend or an amazing coach.

3. Stay single for a year—totally single.

If you can’t be happy with you, you won’t be happy—truly happy—with anyone else. Love that you! Commit to being successfully single for a year. That means happy, connected in your community, fulfilled in your work, and in a state of continuous personal growth. (Your daily routines and long-term goals will be critical to this step.)

4. Surround yourself with positive, uplifting people.

Join a faith community where people strive to live out the values you identify with. This is where you’ll find the deep connections that you can grow with—and that will prevent you from leaning on your exes as crutches.

5. Pray or meditate often.

Use your emotions as mindfulness cues. When you miss someone, pray for them. When you’re lonely, pray for the courage, positivity, and fortitude to make good decisions. When you think you can’t go on—that happens to everyone—pray for what you need. This will help you grow faith in a higher power and yourself, which is an absolute must if you want to be happy alone.

And being happy alone? That’s an absolute must for loving someone unconditionally in a relationship that can last a lifetime.

Link to article on Mind Body Green

Author: Daniel Dowling

#Daniel Dowling #mindbodygreen #article #relationship #love #breakup #heartbreak #moving on #strength #recovery #healing #self respect #personal development #quotes

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batmansymbol · 3 years

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hi riley! read this recently and would love to get ur perspective on this as a YA author https://tinyletter.com/misshelved/letters/did-twitter-break-ya-misshelved-6

hi anon! yeah, i read this the day it was posted. thoughts/supplementary essay below.

firstly, i'd put a big "I AGREE" stamp across this essay. i think it's well-cited and thoughtful, and i agree with pretty much everything in it. i especially appreciate it for introducing me to the terms "context collapse" and "morally motivated networked harassment" - seeing internet sociology studied and labeled is ... odd, but useful.

i left twitter in 2017, but i keep an eye on things, which seem similar now to the way they were four years ago. the essay describes the never-ending scrutiny, the need to seem perfect, and the pressure on writers to out themselves. all of that is spot-on. twitter is an outing machine. there is so much harassment and anger on the platform that in serious conversations, good-faith engagement becomes something that must be earned, rather than something that's expected. and in order to earn good faith, strangers expect you to offer up an all-access pass to who you are. otherwise, things might take a swift left turn into verbal abuse.

obviously twitter is a cesspit of harassment from racist, homophobic, and transphobic people, but i think the most painful harassment comes from within the community. i, and most people i know, wouldn't give a single minuscule little fuck if ben shapiro's entire army of ghouls came after us and told us we were destroying the sacred values of Old America or whatever. but the community at large does care about issues of racial justice and queer liberation and economic justice. which is why it's painful to see this supposed "community" eating its own over and over again.

how cruel can we be to people and pretend that we are their friends? that's the emotional crux of the essay to me. what we're doing to ourselves - people who do share our values and want to achieve the same goals - because this one platform is built on rewarding the quickest, most brutal, and most public response.

god forbid you don't have your identity figured out. god forbid you have an invisible disability, or are writing a story about something sensitive you've personally experienced but had an off-consensus reaction to. on twitter, if you are not a paragon of absolute and immediate clarity, you may as well be lower than dirt morally, because you're unable to do what the platform requires of you: air every private corner of your identity, up to and including your trauma, to justify not only your everyday actions and opinions but also your art.

(this is all honestly incompatible with interesting art, but i'll get to that in a bit.)

it doesn't take a genius to see how troubling this environment is when combined with twitter as a marketing tool. i remember that around the time of my debut, i'd tweet out threads of private, painful, personal stuff, which felt terrible to recount, but i'd watch the like count increase with this sense of catholic, confessional satisfaction. all of this was tied to the idea of my potential salability as a writer.

i was around 21 at the time. i felt a lot of pressure as a debut. i wanted people to like me and think i was exceptionally mature and confident. i wanted to do my job and build buzz for my book. i saw that all these publishing professionals and authors spent day in, day out angry and exhausted on twitter. every few days, a new person fifteen years older than me would say, "i can't take this anymore, i'm so fucking tired of this, i'm logging off for a while." i thought, well, this must be how online activism feels: like running on a sprained ankle.

i can still remember book after book after book that inspired blow-ups, big explanations, and simmering resentment: carve the mark (whose author was forced to admit that she suffered chronic pain after relentless criticism of that element), the black witch (a book explicitly about unlearning racism that was criticized for depicting ... racism), ramona blue (a book about a bi girl who thinks she's a lesbian but winds up in an m/f relationship, because she's still discovering her identity) ... etc

each book, each incident, followed the same pattern. firestorms of anger, a decision of where to place blame, the desperate need for a single consensus opinion in the community. i think a lot of people on book twitter see these as bugs inherent to the platform, but really, in twitter's eyes, they're features. the angrier and more upset twitter's userbase is, the more reliant they are on the platform.

i wound up leaving around the time i realized that not only was twitter making me anxious - NOT being on twitter was beginning to make me anxious, because of vaguely dread-infused tweets all around like "i'm seeing an awful lot of people who are staying silent about X. ... why are so many people who are so loud about X so silent about Y?" etc.

that shit is beyond poisonous. people will not always be logged on. the absence of someone's agreement does not mean disagreement. actually, someone's absence is not inherently meaningful, because it is the internet and silence is everyone's default position; internet silence in all likelihood means that that person is out in the universe doing other things.

this is already a ridiculously long response, so i'll try to wrap up. firstly, i think that progressive writers and readers have GOT to stop thinking that a correct consensus opinion can exist on every piece of fiction, and on every issue in general, and that if someone diverges from that consensus, they're incorrectly progressive.

secondly, i think that progressive writers and readers have got to uncouple the idea of a "book with good politics" from a good book, because 1) there are books about morally grimy, despicable subjects that help us process the landscape of human behavior, and

2) if, in your fiction, there is only one set of allowed responses for your protagonist, you will write the same person over and over and over again. you see this a lot in religious fiction. the person is not a human being but an expression of the creator's moral alignment. (not entirely surprising that this similarity to religious correctness might crop up with the current state of the movement. i read this piece around the time i left twitter and it shook me really, really deeply.)

i understand that in YA, there's a sensation of immense pressure because people want to model good politics and correct behavior for kids. this is a noble idea - and maybe twitter is great for people who want to be role models. but i've become more and more staunchly against the idea of artist as role model. the role of the writer is not to be emulated but to write fiction. and the role of fiction is not to read like something delivered from a soapbox, or to display some scrubbed-clean universe where each wrong is immediately identified as a wrong, and where total morality is always glowing in the backdrop. it's to put something human on paper, and as human beings, we might aspire to total morality, but we fall short again and again. honestly, that's what being on twitter showed me more clearly than anything.

#reply #ya lit #personal #the discourse tm #essay

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dracosathenaeum · 4 years

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Soulmates ii

Summary: You could only spend so much time running from the inevitable.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,455

PART 1 | PART 3

Draco sat in his usual spot of the astronomy tower; he found himself spending more time here than he had before, it was the only place in the castle that he could truly be alone. He had spent every evening for the last week locked up in the tower, thinking about what you had said.

From when he was a child, his father had told him to cherish his soulmate, that ‘no matter how dark us Malfoy’s got, no matter what situation we got ourselves into, our soulmates were the backbone of the Malfoy’s, our better halves.’ His mother and father were happy, they found a life with one another, a happy one. Maybe he was delusional to think the same was possible for him.

He didn’t even know you; you’d never even spoken before that quidditch match, how could you hate him already? Was he that hard to love? Did you really despise him that much? Thoughts of why he wasn’t enough of you plagued his thoughts the entire week he avoided you, he just didn’t know how to fix what was never there.

He wasn’t about to give up though, he had spent a lifetime waiting for you, he would change your mind no matter what. That was also part of the reason he had spent all that time alone, he needed a plan, a plan to make you see that he wasn’t the cold-hearted monster you thought he was. He was fine with the rest of the world thinking that of him, but not you. He didn’t even know you, but you were supposed to be the one person who was on his side.

You felt guilty to say the least. Calling someone unlovable, (whether or not they actually were) was cruel, your friends made sure you were well aware of that. Perhaps you had gone a little hard on him but surely everyone could see where you were coming from, there had been bets going on since first year about 2 people’s soulmates. Harry Potter’s would be the luckiest and Draco Malfoy’s would be the unluckiest, so why was it you.

After all of this, no one could blame you for being surprised when he started sending you letters. Well you assumed they were from him, the cursive ‘M’ on the green seal was enough of a clue. If you weren’t feeling shit about yourself before, you definitely were once the letters started arriving. They came at breakfast every few days, but as the weeks drew on, they turned into one each day. You never opened them, shoving them straight into your pockets to stash away in your drawers, too afraid to open them, afraid of what they would say.

Your friends saw you do this each morning, yet no number of disapproving looks would change your mind. You just weren’t ready to be tied to Malfoy for the rest of your life. You didn’t want any part in his life, everyone knew what the Malfoys were like, and how much they valued their precious reputation. You just weren’t suited for it, the morals the old family kept so dear disgusted you.

So why did he keep trying? If you were in his position you would’ve stopped trying weeks ago. You weren’t sure what was keeping you from opening the letters. The guilt over him overhearing you those weeks ago? Or that you’d avoided him for so long that it was just second nature to you. The whole school knew you were soulmates, but everyone knew you were avoiding him like the plague, they gave you looks of pity when they walked past you in hallways, you wondered what kind of looks they gave Draco. Not that you cared.

As you made your way to the library, you heard rapid footsteps approaching; afraid it was Draco, you start to pick up your pace, refusing to turn around for a second. “Gods, Y/N slow down. I’m not a quidditch player like you, this is not fair.” Whoops, it was just Liam. Smiling sheepishly, you turned around to apologise to the sweating boy, maybe you ought to whip him into shape on a broom sometime soon, he was not looking good.

“I’m so sorry! I thought you were Draco! But seriously, you need to work on your stamina, if not for you own sake then for Mina’s…” Liam sent you a glare and a vulgar gesture which you admittedly deserved.

“Y/N listen, I know you don’t want to hear it, but Draco came up to me during study hall and he asked me to pass a message to you, he seemed pretty upset, and yeah I am talking about THE Draco Malfoy. Even I’m starting to take pity on him, just listen to his message?” All your friends were traitors, you decided. You knew they all wanted you to give him a chance, but you thought they would understand that if it ever did happen it would be on your own terms, and many many years in the future.

“Fine, what does he want?” You could never win against your friends; you had learnt that the hard way in second year…

“He says he’ll leave you alone but only if you meet him in the astronomy tower at 7pm tonight. He really seemed desperate, I think you should give him a clear answer at least, instead of just straight out avoiding him. I mean you have been a bit of a dick to him, no matter how bad he may be. Soulmates are supposed to be a support pillar for each other through thick and thin, you need him just as much as he needs you. Consider it please? For you own sake if not his.” Tom gave you a sad smile before turning and walking away. Typical, he had just dumped a heavy burden on you and ran away, some friend he was. Your thoughts were more confused than before, even though you didn’t think that was possible.

Draco was an awful human being, you had seen what he was from first year, you had heard the rumours, everyone had. So why was the universe so keen for you to be with him? Why couldn’t you have had someone ordinary and nice as your soulmate. You had questioned yourself over this a hundred times in the past month yet every day you woke up with his name still on your wrist. Maybe your only option was Draco, every day you woke up with nothing changed, was a day closer to accepting the reality that you really didn’t want.

18:00

Draco was shitting himself, truly shitting himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have said he wouldn’t try again after this, what if it didn’t work? What if you said no? What if he fucked up his last chance and you truly didn’t want him at all? He had imbedded crescent marks into both of his arms at this point, pacing back and forth across the dusty floor, reciting what he would say to you. It would have been a lot easier if you had read your letters, but he understood why you hadn’t, he understood that he needed to change to have you. He’d do anything.

19:00

Draco should’ve guessed you weren’t going to show. Of course, you wouldn’t. You hadn’t responded to any of his letters so why would this time be any different. But he’d gotten used to it by now, sitting and waiting in the tower hoping you would’ve read his letters and would give him a chance. But just like the past 3 weeks, it was just him in the tower.

You on the other hand were sat in your common room with your friends, ready for a night of card games and firewhiskey. Everyone knew exactly what you were doing but no one said anything but still gave you a disappointed look every minute or so. You were used to them at this point, besides, the firewhiskey helped to numb everything.

20:00

He had nowhere else to be, an extra hour or two was nothing, and he would kick himself if you showed and he wasn’t there.

You were too sober to be where you were. You were used to your friends being all coupley with each other, you had been since last year yet right now you would rather be anywhere than right there. You found yourself slipping from your common room, just wanting to take a walk and get away from the disapproving stares aimed at you and affectionate actions they gave each other. This sucked.

20:59

Draco had held onto hope this entire time, hope that you would give him this one chance. God if this is how people felt when they lost all hope, he understood why people hated villains, he didn’t want to feel ever again if this was what it was like to care and to have hope.

Shaking his head at his own patheticness, Draco pulled the door handle, ready to leave and just drown in the prefect’s bath that was waiting for him. What he hadn’t expected was for you to be on the other side, pushing the door open as he pulled causing you to fall straight into his arms.

You truly didn’t think you’d end up going to meet Draco, but your legs had ended up taking you up to the astronomy tower after you had spent an hour walking around pretty much everywhere else in the castle. You didn’t think he’s still be there; you were almost 2 hours late after all. You didn’t know what you were doing standing outside the door and not opening it. He wasn’t inside so what was holding you back. You took a deep breath before pushing the door open… and falling straight into someone’s arms.

[#A/N: I really considered ending it here but I was feeling nice ;)]

You scramble out of his arms, running your hands over where his hands had been, but Draco must’ve mistakenly thought you were cold as the next thing you knew, his robes were being draped around your shoulders.

“Thank you but I don’t need it, here take it back.” Your hands moved to remove it from your shoulders, but he brought his hands up to stop you before you could. “You’re just in your pyjamas and I have a jumper on, just wear is please?” You just dopped your arms back down to your sides, a little grateful for the warmth the material brought you, and you really tried not to focus on the scent surrounding you.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.” You broke the heavy silence that fell between you too, the remnants of alcohol in your body leaving you a little more open than usual.

“I didn’t want you to come and for me not to be here, I was serious about that one chance y/n. I promise I’ll stop trying if you just hear me out.”

The guilt that had been subdued from the alcohol was back looking at his solemn expression. This was the first time since the first incident that you had spoken to him, second time overall in your life, yet talking to him didn’t cause you as much anxiety as you had initially imagined. Maybe your friends were right, maybe you owed both Draco and yourself a chance.

“5 minutes.”

“That’s all I need, thank you.” His shoulders practically sagged in relief, tugging on your heart strings more than you would ever admit.

“I know what you think of me, what the whole school thinks of me. We both heard what you said that day but I’m really trying, can’t you see that? I’ve spent my entire life living in one way and it’s hard to suddenly change everything in my life, but I’m more than willing to do it for you. I just want to make you happy; I want to be happy. Whether we like it or not, we’re bound for life, can’t you give me a chance? A clean beginning? I can show you that I can change, that I’m not the unlovable monster you think I am. I might be a Malfoy but let me prove my worth to you.”

“That’s just it Draco, I don’t want you to have to change, because you think I’ll give you a chance for it. It literally has no meaning that way. You are who you are, it’s literally in your blood! You have been despicable these past 6 years, if you’re going to change then change for yourself and not for me. Your attitude towards non-pure bloods, your hatred towards Harry Potter and every other non-Slytherin, your superiority complex; it’s all a part of you don’t you see? That’s not something you can change overnight.” He was biting his lip so hard it started to bleed but neither of you did anything about it, just stood in tense silence as you waited for a response.

“Okay.”

“Okay? This isn’t ‘The Fault in Our Stars Draco’, you’re going to have to give me more.”

“What is ‘The Fault in Our Stars’? Anyways that’s not important, I meant; okay, I’ll change for me. If that’s what will make you happy.” Your jaw dropped, how was everything you were saying going in one ear and coming out the other, wasn’t he supposed to be one of the top students next to Hermione?

“You’ve literally missed the entire point. I don’t want you to change because of me, I want you to change because it’s the right thing to do, I want you to change and actually believe in what you’re changing for. I want you to be a better person for yourself and not for someone or anything else.”

“How- how do I do that?” he looked like a child whose ice cream you had just stolen.

“Figure that out yourself Draco, I’ll give you a chance when you can prove that to me.”

“But you just said this doesn’t happen overnight, how can I make you see that I mean it?”

“I don’t care if it takes you a few months or a few years, I can’t be with you as you are now Draco. And I don’t want you to fake who you are around me. If I’m going to be with you, I want to love you for you, and right now, I just can’t.” With that you turned to leave the room, completely forgetting about the robe draped over your figure until you got back to your room. You balled it up in your hands and shoved it in the same draw you kept his letters in, out of sight out of mind.

PART 3

#A/N: The first part of this got so much love and I just wasn't expecting that, thank you to everyone who’s read these!! I hope the next part will satisfy youu. This was supposed to go up like 2 hours ago but I got distracted playing among us 👀

TAGLIST: @bbeauttyybbx @pipppaaaaalouisee @theslytherinprincessworld @fangirl-3d2y @tttyrus @scriptingslytherin @justmimithings @purpleskymalfoy @minigigglybabi @malfoyquinn @secretaccshh @obbrssession @whatwoulddracodo @thatoneniceslytherin @thehumanistsdiary @mariah-can-dream @futureofanthropology @ccabian @tobarmaidswhodontcount @potatothingsz @xuckduck @dreamyginny

SOULMATES TAGLIST: @landocalrission @sunsetsofanemoia @yucksiedoodles @hey27 @frau-moon @slytherinbaddiee @celestialpuff

#draco #draco malfoy #harry potter #soulmates #redemption?#draco x reader #soulmatesau #draco x y/n #Draco Malfoy x reader

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enha-woodzies · 3 years

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➸ CHAPTER 10 | " AT LONG LAST PT. 2 "

starring: enhypen ft. daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @gyeraniee @fluffi @stxrryemxlys @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3 @lost-lepord-beanie @hyunsunge @hooniecore @thenoceurgirl @thonkingdeepo

[ PREV. CHAPTER ] | [ M. LIST ] | [ NEXT CHAPTER ]

One of the strangest things about love is that it will make you feel rooted one moment, then wavered by the next; all by the person whom you treated like your resting place — only for them to be tired of you in their next waking day. In Jungwon’s case, he didn’t feel threatened by the marquess’ efforts to acquire his girl. Despite Y/n’s plead to stop the unlabeled thing going on between them, Jungwon refused to feel daunted. So he did what he does best: expressing his sentiments in the form of written words— the language of the unsaid.

The night Y/n ended things between them, Jungwon made a quick stop to their library to write down a few of the many things she did to him on the daily; it contained some of the uncountable things he wanted to say to her if she’d only listened. He poured out his heart, writing to the best of his ability with all the love and warmth she deserved, hoping his adoration would reach her if it wasn’t too late yet.

Crumpling away various parchments and scratching several more, he finally had it neatly tucked in between the pages of their favorite Jane Austen book she threw at him weeks prior. Before leaving the said book upon the large, round table in the center of the room, Jungwon topped it off with a little quote, once again, peeking from the worn-out cover of the antique novel.

“I will go if you need me to go, but bear in mind that I don’t want to leave. I have no other homeland but you. So I will patiently sit in the corner of your heart and wait for our time.”

If it weren’t for Jay’s knowledge about his friend’s almost parting gift, Y/n wouldn’t be rushing down their manor’s library with an eager yet tormented heart the day after. She immediately clasped the book, the repertoire of their precious memories and Jungwon’s poetic affection, the instant she saw it lying on the surface of her late father’s desk.

Y/n pulled out the tiny parchment with Jungwon’s last quote, putting down the book back on the wooden desk. She carefully muttered each word as if it was an ode, constantly bouncing in her mind back and forth.

Her heart found a bit of relief behind his written words, yet she still found it vague that he couldn’t face her and tell her himself. Y/n picked the book again and as she flicked through the pages, a small, handwritten envelope caught her attention. Her heart began to thump.

She gently tore the envelope open only to be welcomed by several folded papers brimming at the edge of the torn covering. Jungwon got her used to the underlined phrases and pieces of quotes, and almost nothing from Jungwon’s heart itself. And now suddenly, all the letters were about her, from the depths of her lover’s affection.

“Be still, my heart.” She whispered under her shaky breath.

My dearest Y/n,

We made quite a mess, don’t you think? Or rather, I did.

When I didn’t react to your efforts of reaching out,

I'm sure you thought I'd gone on or despised you.

I bet it never ever occurred to you that I just couldn’t

bring myself to say "hello" and risk another goodbye.

You wore your best dress that day we departed,

and you were there to watch me leave.

And all the times you let me in just for me to screw things up and leave again.

I’ve been trying to undo what I did to you by making amends.

I’m trying so hard, believe me.

Everything I said in the past and the phrases I underlined in attempts to confess to you,

They were all true.

I cannot stop thinking of you, my thoughts of you never end.

They’re so loud they prevent me from sleeping at night.

I’ve been restlessly rehearsing the words I’d tell you if time didn’t forbid.

But unfortunately, it appears that my time in your heart is up.

Truth be told, we were something, don’t you think?

I cannot shrug away the thought that we were nothing when

I could feel your calm breath against my heaving chest,

It felt like you were meant to reside there, in the warmth of my embrace.

I’m afraid I couldn’t bear myself to write more of these.

They don’t deserve to be kept in any longer.

If you still wish to talk to me and hear me out before giving your hand away,

Meet me in the Queen’s Garden at dusk tomorrow.

Jay has agreed to chaperone you there,

But he must leave us to ourselves when we reach the Catalpa tree.

Until then, I will remain in the state of waiting, for the last time.

— Forever yours, Jungwon

The awaited dusk came upon, and it was a shocker for Y/n that she rejected Sunghoon’s plea to spend the day together over an impulsive meeting with Jungwon. Jay helped lift his sister from the horse, firmly securing his grip on her corseted waist. Her heart was in a weary state; she feared it would be a cycle again of Jungwon acting out his affection and leaving her hanging when their moment’s up. She couldn’t trust him fully anymore, knowing he had recklessly wasted so much borrowed time and promises.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine? I can stay by the gazebo and wait for you.”

“It’s alright, Jay. Didn’t he promise you that he’d send me home? Ride safe, brother!”

Jay walked closer to her and draped his arm around her shoulder, planting a long, soft kiss on the crown of her head. “See you at home, sis.”

Y/n heaved a deep breath before taking baby steps towards the Catalpa tree where Jungwon had been lounging hours prior. With a heavy heart and romantic complications in mind, she stood in front of the lover she forced herself to detest; eyes never leaving his.

But Jungwon, being easily distracted by her tantalizing eyes, quickly averted his gaze to the grass he had been standing on. His confident stance stripped away though he mustered the courage to look at the beautiful pair, as the object of his affection gradually approached him.

“Why didn’t you come and talk to me yourself?”

“Would you have listened?” Y/n ran out of retorts as she was guilty enough, cutting Jungwon’s explanations that night in their garden.

The boy drew closer to her, softly lifting her resting hand to interlock it with his. “Y/n…” only to be shrugged away by the maiden.

“You must have gone crazy, coming here like this. Tell me, are you that desperate to impel your pride-”

“This is not about my pride! I-” Jungwon ran a hand through his hair as he let out a frustrated sigh, realizing what he just did. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. It upsets me to know that you still think this is all for my ego, supposing you’ve read the letters I left you.”

“So you’ve been living in denial all these years?”

“I never meant to come between you and him.”

“Yet here we are. Someone’s caught in the middle, and it’s definitely not you, Jung.” The boy stared down at his worn-out boots, million-dollar thoughts running through his mind, yet he couldn’t find the ones he needed to say.

“Do you want me to start it off for you?” Y/n crossed her arms, trying her best to compose a cold approach to Jungwon, although the chap’s been looking unkempt like he hasn’t slept for days in every passing minute of their imminent bickering.

“Haven’t you gotten the letters?”

“I did.”

“Is there anything you want to say about it?” Y/n scoffed at the timid boy who was shattered by the lady’s callousness.

“You asked me to come here, Jungwon! All this time you’ve said nothing but a few words to me. Are you even serious right now?” She half-yelled in frustration.

“I’m trying to prevent myself from saying the wrong things.”

“You’ve barely been able to look me in the eye!”

“For the reason that I cannot bear witness to the misery I’ve caused you!”

Y/n gulped when she saw a tear grazing down Jungwon’s dimpled cheek. It was the first time she’d seen him cry in a long time, the last one being the day he left her for university five years ago.

“It pains me,” he stammered, breaths shaky as tears kept dripping down the grassy lawn. “It pains me to know that I’ve yet again, caused you another heartache. If there was anything I could do to bring back the hands of time, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat. If I could go back to when we were thirteen, on the exact day I left you for London, I would vow to you then and there that I will spend every lifetime with you when I get back.” Jungwon went on and on, eyes now fixated upon her sparkling orbs that reflected the full moon above them.

“But I was a stubborn, scared, idle bloke who’s now deserving of punishment. It’s long overdue, but I still think I deserve this, and I’m sorry. I’m tremendously sorry that it took your beautiful marquess to be caught in the middle of our mess for me to realize that you were my all and more. You are my all and more, Y/n. I couldn’t bear this any longer. My feelings will not be silenced this time, and I must let you hear of how I truly, madly, and deeply love you now more than ever. I’d hate myself for eternity if it came to the conclusion of having to lose the one real thing I’ve ever hoped for in this lifetime. If the mighty heavens don’t forbid us to love again, I swear I’d love you right.”

“Why are you telling me this now? You had all the chances, Jung. Why did it have to be in the most unsuitable moment where Mother and the Duke are preparing for the imminent wedding?!”

“Sometimes you don’t fully know the answer until someone’s breaking badly in front of you. I’m sorry, Y/n. But I’m here now, in all my glory, swallowing my pride, and laying my armor down if you choose to rather love than fight.”

Jungwon approached her. Too close until an inch of distance was left between them. His eyes had been watering with tears the entire time he was rambling his feelings, but he wiped her glistening tears away instead, bearing in mind that he’s making up for lost times. His face was mere inches away from hers, breaths fanning against each other as Y/n sniffs lightly with Jungwon’s nose bumping against hers.

“I love you, Y/n. My longing for you aches like piled-up bricks pushed against my chest, as my love for you burns, heavily and passionately, like a thousand suns set ablaze right before our very eyes. My heart is, and always will be, yours. You’ve imparted me this quote once from a book you found scattered around my room. ‘Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony’ and I had carved it into the depths of my soul, putting myself under the commitment of being worthy of your choice. I grew confident because I know you love me truly more than him.”

Jungwon raised her flimsy hand and kissed it with much intent before placing it around his shoulders and having his hand rest on the small of her back. With his other hand hanging freely to his side, he lifted it up to graze his gentle fingers upon the lady’s soft cheek, carefully taking in her satisfied reaction to his touch as she kept her eyes closed and her lips parted. Jungwon pulled her chin up with his forefinger, his thumb softly pinching it in the aftermath. He brushes his nose against hers, bathing in each other’s warmth and shy touches, bodies electric.

“Marry me.”

Y/n shoots a concerned look at Jungwon, “but what about Lady Choi? I thought you two-”

“No one else could make me the happiest man in this world, Y/n, no one but you.” Jungwon wasted no time and crashed his lips against hers. First, and long-awaited kisses are finally shared under the illuminating beam of the fullest moon of the year. The gent tilts his head to the side, gaining more access to the lady’s lips as Y/n heaves a deep breath, slowly taking in his upper lip within hers.

He pulls away mere seconds after to get some oxygen into his system while taking the opportunity to continue his unrehearsed proposal. “My heart will only rest in yours. Marry me, Y/n, will you?”

The lady buried her face against his chest that was clad in blue, velvety frock coat adorned with gold embroidery upon its hems. She sniffed his immaculate scent in before letting out muffled whispers. “Give me time to reflect on it. Only then will I give you my answer.”

“Time, of course. As much as you need, my love.” Jungwon gave her a quick and final kiss on the lips before freeing her from his embrace. “I must get you home now. Your mother would be frantic if she knew you were frolicking around with me while she worries about your wedding plans with Sunghoon.”

“Don’t say that. He hasn’t proposed to me yet.”

“But when he does, I’m certain your mother won’t pass up the chance.”

Y/n kissed him back. Fleeting, but full of love. “It’s me who’s getting married, Jung, not her.”

“I love you.”

“You’ve said it already.”

“I will say it again if I have to.” Y/n chuckles lightly, feeling relieved now that Jungwon has trampled down the barriers preventing them from transparency.

The gent lifts her up to his white horse before following after. He instantly took hold of her hands and had them wrapped around his small waist. “Hold on tight. We’re past my promised hour so I’m going to have to speed up, okay?” Y/n didn’t say anything, instead, she hugged Jungwon tightly by the waist and snurfled her cheek against his back. It was enough affirmation for him, so he yanked the thick rope, revving his horse on the cobblestones on their way home.

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series’ taglist!

ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

#kpopscape #enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #neothestars #of lords & mischiefs #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen series #enhypen jungwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki #iland daniel

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mariannesketchnotes · 3 years

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Fanfic Rec List (mostly Timeless)

Since starting this blog, I created 24 fanfic sketchnotes & I can now create a mosaic that covers nearly a square meter. So, in celebration of all these amazing stories I got to recommend, join me in this (massive) compilation post with links to all the stories & the sketchnotes (for more detail on my recommendations). I categorized the stories and I wish to celebrate all you amazing writers & artists today! Thank you for sharing your stories & art.

I hope you forgive the massive amount of namedropping I am about to do. (Also: I love reading the responses when people see my sketchnotes - so feel free to respond, sent me a note or engage in conversations :-) ). I’m also always on the lookout for more stories to read: I particularly like found family, recovery, mission fic, general or rare pair stories & maturity in characters & conversations. I like adults leaving teen drama behind and dealing with things like the adults they are. Angst is a favorite too, and I enjoy the multiverse of AUs. (Honestly: I’m a pretty eclectic reader).

Timeless

The show that pulled me back into fandom & fanfic & to all you wonderful people. The full list is under a read-more, cause this post got LONG.

Historical / Mission

The Only Way Out by @sallyexactly

Author’s summary: Chinatown leaves the team shattered and grieving, but their only option is to stumble forward. To save the world, they'll need strength of character they didn't know they had, to defeat depths of evil like they've never seen. Meanwhile, they need to find a way to decide their own future, not give up hope... and save the fighting for the actual bad guys. It's honestly a toss-up which of those will be hardest.

This story is my headcanon of how the series ended. It is long (300000+ words) but well-worth it. It's got history, slow and mature development and an intelligent resolution. I reread it frequently and although I have wanted to capture my response in a (series of) sketchnote, I never managed it to my satisfaction. The story is beautiful and feels cathartic (and well-worth rereading over and over).

The Road Ode by @sallyexactly - my sketchnote

Post-canon. Roadtrip with our favourite historian & lots of historical markers on the way. 107937 words.

The Gutter and the Stars by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels - my sketchnote

Oscar Wilde. Short (1397 words) & funny.

No End, No Beginning by MandyCandy - my sketchnote

Ambitious plan & canon divergent. Tecumseh. With a full bibliography. 65068 words.

Parallel Lines by @x-voyevoda - my sketchnote

Multiverse. Post-canon. Rated mature. Work-in-Progress. 71911 words.

Zajednički by @insane-sociopath - my sketchnote

Retelling of season 2. PTSD. More missions included. Incomplete. 129474 words.

Evocative / Poetic / Philosophical / Makes Me Think

Burn the Witch by barefootwithneonhands - my sketchnote

Evocative. Poetic & fascinating to no end. 19534 words.

Two Roads by @oldshrewsburyian - my sketchnote

How do you live your life while waiting for a future you once so tantalisingly glimpsed but barely dared hope for? Denise Christopher pondering her choices. 835 words.

The Nuclear Option by RedGold (@timelesshonesttrailer) - my sketchnote

“Sometimes… sometimes change happens because a thousand voices cry out and make themselves heard, many moving parts of some Rube-Goldberg Machine. But… from time to time… it just takes one person, making one decision, and that changes the fate of the world.” Jessica-centric. 6036 words

A Shot of Remembrance by @doctorliamsr - my sketchnote

Garcia & Karl. Season 1. 1093 words.

Scorched Earth by @sallyexactly - my sketchnote

Garcia & Lucy. Evocative language. 2695 words.

Ballet-Feerie by @oldshrewsburyian & @qqueenofhades - my sketchnote

Ballet AU. Dance as language. Authors’ summary: “Garcia Flynn teaches ballet to a class including Amy Preston. Lucy Preston has been her younger sister's guardian since they were orphaned. Hesitant conversations and fraught silences ensue. Also, there's Tchaikovsky.” 16799 words.

Alternate Universe

Finding Light in Darkness - by Ultra - my sketchnote

19-century Governess AU. 40199 words. Found Family. Wholesome story.

Incandescent & Adolescent (Wonders Never Cease) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels - my sketchnote

She Loves Me AU. 1930s setting. Lots of letter writing. 18438 words.

Ballet-Feerie by @oldshrewsburyian & @qqueenofhades - my sketchnote

Ballet AU. See above. 16799 words

Blood Sins - A #FlynnFriday Imagines Series (E-rated) by @doctorliamsr, @timelesshonesttrailer & @ununpredictableme - my sketchnote

Vampire AU. Ongoing story that fascinates me to no end. Reading any snippit I can get my hands on. Garcia/Lorena/Lucy & Jiya/Rufus relationships. The E-rated parts are clearly marked and can be skipped if it’s not your cup of tea. Currently at 47403 words.

The Assassin’s Holiday by @secretnerdprincess - my sketchnote

Murdervision. Assassin AU. Got me giggling all the way through. 12224 words. Rated mature.

Amehrana by Redgold (@timelesshonesttrailer) - my sketchnote

Food Truck AU. Found family. Wholesome. Mature people. Lorena is awesome. 32589 words.

Lorena Lives

Rise Like a Reckoning by @amandamonroe - my sketchnote

Author’s summary: ‘"Lorena Flynn Has a Chance" Ex-CIA agent Lorena Flynn is back. She's got her daughter, her husband, and the woman who saved their lives years ago. She's taking command of the bunker and taking Rittenhouse down.’ Lorena/Garcia/Lucy hinted at towards the end. 6483 words.

Blood Sins - A #FlynnFriday Imagines Series (E-rated) by @doctorliamsr, @timelesshonesttrailer & @ununpredictableme - my sketchnote

See above. Also: Iris lives!

Amehrana by Redgold (@timelesshonesttrailer) - my sketchnote

See above. Yes, I’m recommending this twice. :-)

Due to the nature of the show, there are not many stories in which Lorena lives. I particularly like the Lorena focused stories that RedGold, @sallyexactly, @omnicat & @amandamonroe write. Lorena & Iris deserved better and these stories bring depth, humanity and grace to Lorena & her choices. I reread them frequently and recommend you do the same. These authors are amazing.

Recovery & Healing

To Find a Home by @misscrazyfangirl321 - my sketchnote

Rufus & Jiya & Garcia friendship. Extending grace. 4529 words.

A Butterfly Garden by @vita-s-west - my sketchnote

Post-Rittenhouse defeat. Slow recovery. Especially wholesome to read in these pandemic times. There’s now a sequel too! 3323 words.

Nisam Sam by @thealocksly - my sketchnote

Lucy’s processing her time in Rittenhouse & Garcia holds space for her. Soft & dark & visceral. 1225 words.

Q&A by @somekindofflowergirl - my sketchnote

Author’s summary: “Lucy and Flynn develop a routine during their nighttime chats. She's allowed one loaded question and he's allowed one loaded apology.” 22176 words

The Road Ode by @sallyexactly - my sketchnote

See above. This roadtrip fic inspired my own roadtrip where we found ourselves in Friedrichshafen, Germany and the Zeppelin museum there were there was a whole exposition on the Hindenburg. Felt very serendipidous.

Honorable mentions (especially in these pandemic times):

Disease Protocols for Time Travellers by hjea (594 words)

Also, I’d like to give a shoutout to @battleshipgarcy for their fan archive sites & meta posts with screenshots of the journal & all the meta content. I love seeing all those small details highlighted! (Plus: their Maria Thompkins in their story The Road Less Traveled intrigues me to no end!)

Other Fandoms

Hunger Games - A Standing Engagement (E-rated) by @bettsfic - my sketchnote.

Annie & Finnick AU within Hunger Games world. 56760 words. The Food Wars are so very appropriate in the Hunger Games world. It’s fascinating how well betts incorporates exisiting Hunger Games context into this story: this feels like it could have happened.

Temeraire - The Diplomat’s Dragon by indecisive_lotus - my sketchnote

Ongoing story. Post-canon. I love Churki & Hammond together & how Hammond especially gets out-manouvered. 20730 words.

White Collar - In Your Wildest Dreams by sahiya - my sketchnote

Post-canon. Sara Ellis focused. Author’s summary ”This was what grief did to you, Sara knew. It played tricks on your mind. But if it wasn’t Neal, then who could it be? Who else would send her an anonymous packet detailing all the ways someone could knock over the Louvre?” 14289 words.

White Collar - I’ve been bingereading the stories by Sholio. Especially the stories focused on Diana Barrigan. They are a delight. Breakout is especially bad-ass Diana (in heels nonetheless!)

I started this blog to show my appreciation of those wonderful fanfic stories that have entertained me endlessly and engage with these amazing artists (and other people in fandom who share my enthusiasm!) This recommendation list is obviously incomplete and I welcome additions & conversations!

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official-weasley · 3 years

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Love, William (Bill Weasley x OC) - Chapter 8

WARNINGS: maybe a little bit of angst

Chapter 8 - Dear Theodora

It’s been 2 days since Theodora’s birthday and she still couldn’t get over her letter to Bill. She hated that she gave in and wrote him back. What was she thinking? Bill will think she’s insane and she started to panic – forgetting what she wrote as she wrote the letter at 4 in the morning – wondering if she said too much.

How could she allow herself to do this? How could she be so stupid? Bill just wanted to give her something for her birthday and she blew it out of porpo...

Theodora’s thoughts were disturbed by a tap on her window. She let out a gasp as the owl startled her. She pushed herself off the bed and walked to the window to let the owl in.

Giving the owl some treats and letting the window open so that the bird can easily fly out when she pleases to do so, she sat back on her bed with the envelope in her hand.

With the two letters she received 2 days ago, she recognized the handwriting on the envelope as Bill’s at once.

She knew she made a mistake writing to him. He probably sent her a letter to tell her that she should stop writing to him or how inappropriate he found her reply.

Theodora opened the envelope with shaking hands and took out the parchment. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that if she waited for another second to see what he wrote to her, she would simply burn it and let the curiosity kill her.

Dear Theodora,

it brought a smile to my face to know you received the gift and that you liked it so much. Did you ever get to cast the spell on the rose? Do you still have it?

How did you spend your birthday? Fred and George told me that they are going to surprise you with a party – did they succeed? I hope you had fun and that they didn’t do anything that you wouldn’t like.

They also told me that you are having quite a bit of trouble with your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Has she calmed down? Fred said something about a new regime and her inventing rules all the time?

Are you alright? How is everybody coping with that?

I sure hope she isn’t intervening with your education. Remember that you will soon finish school and won’t have to see her ever again.

I know you are strong and can handle it. Just try not to get yourself into too much trouble. I know you’re a good student – I just don’t trust her, that’s all.

I apologize if expressing my concern went too far,

Bill

Theodora was once again thankful that her roommates were asleep. She couldn’t imagine how her face must’ve looked like reading the letter. Bill didn’t say anything about her letter being distasteful – on the contrary, it seemed he wasn’t bothered by her reply at all.

And he was asking her all these questions and he even seemed concerned for her and the twins.

He was just worried about his brothers doing alright and making sure they don’t get in trouble with Umbridge. She only made Bill worried and of course, now she has to reply to him otherwise he will worry even more.

She tip-toed to her desk – careful not to wake her roommates – and took out a piece of parchment and her writing set.

Dear Bill,

I did cast the spell on the rose and I am happy to say it’s still as beautiful as I found it on my bed. Even though it’s only been 2 days it’s a nice motivation to endure Dolores Umbridge.

My birthday has been as lovely as every year with your brothers around. I knew they were up to something for weeks but they succeeded in surprising me nonetheless after our Quidditch practice. The party was great – chill but amazing and full of laughter. I think I got to my dorm at 2 in the morning and Freddie and Georgie were over the roof that they succeeded.

Back to Umbridge – I honestly don’t know what to tell you. She is evil. That would be one way of putting it. She gives your brothers and me detention almost every week. I know we should keep our mouths shut but sometimes she takes it too far.

She keeps trying to convince us that You-Know-Who is not back and she made Harry write lines: I must not tell lies with a black quill. Honestly, I don’t know how she got away with it. The scar it left on his hand is still not completely healed and no matter how we try to stay out of trouble, we want to stay on Harry’s side. Merlin knows he needs all the support. It’s enough that there are barely any students who believe him.

I’m alright and so are all your siblings so you don’t have to worry. We are there for each other and we are thinking of doing something about her but we don’t know what quite yet.

She keeps attending other lessons and there are rumors that she wants to sack Professor Trelawney. Can she even do that?

I am not as concerned about myself, I know I am out of here in a few months. But what if she gets to stay? What if she will be around for years with Harry and Hermione and Ginny and Ron still at school? I don’t want them to be around that woman!

It’s nice to see how much you care for your siblings and expressing your concern so don’t worry about it being too much. I will protect them as much as I can, you have my word.

Theodora

She folded the parchment and since the owl was in no hurry to leave and kept pecking at her quill while she was writing, she decided to send the letter back immediately. She wouldn’t want Bill to be worried about his siblings so the sooner she can tell him they are all alright the better.

Dear Theodora,

if the rose makes you feel motivated to stay in school with everything you described in your last letter, I will gladly send you another one.

I am beginning to see what you said about the twins while we were at the Burrow last summer. They really are amazing friends to you and I am proud of them for that. They might like to joke around but I can see that they take you seriously and that’s a good quality of theirs – they are growing up.

Honestly, things have been chaotic everywhere. I don’t understand how she can have so much power either and it scares me to see what she can do to students. I believe Harry as well – we all do – but I hope that for his sake, he will stop talking back at Umbridge.

If she used that quill on him, who knows what else she is capable of. I know it’s none of my business telling you this, but be careful. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt or get in serious trouble with that woman because you had to defend someone.

I know how it sounds – you should stand up for what you believe but do so together if you can. Unfortunately, I reckon things will only get worse from here on out and Ron told me that you don’t have proper DADA lessons. I think you should try and find a way to learn some spells on your own. I can tell you about some that might come in handy.

You have to be prepared for anything and know that you can’t trust all your teachers anymore. Whether they would like it or not, they might not have the power to protect you, so you will have to do so yourself.

I admire you for trying to fight for what is right and I have no doubt that you and the twins are already sticking your heads together and thinking of what to do or how to make the situation better. At least try to do so quietly and strike when she’ll least expect it.

I think at this point, she can do whatever she wants. And if she starts firing the most innocent of professors then she might take all your protection away from you. Just know that you are safe at school as long as Headmaster Dumbledore is around.

Thank you for easing my mind and telling me all my siblings are okay – it means a lot. But know that I worry for you as much as for them.

Please stay safe,

Bill

Theodora didn’t know what to think of Bill’s letter. She has to ask Harry if he needs some help with the spells they are going to learn.

She was now even happier that they came up with the idea of trying to defend themselves and Bill was right – it will only get worse from here so she and the twins need to act fast and try to get that woman out of their school.

They had a rather peaceful time at Hogwarts and if there is anything she can do about it, she wants to help the next generations to have the same experience and she couldn’t see that happening with the toad on the throne.

It brought a smile to her face when she read that Bill wants to give her another rose. She would like to think that the gesture is romantic but she thought better of it. She knew now – Bill telling her that he is also concerned for her – that he sees her as a good friend and as much as she would like him to think of her as something more, she couldn’t deny being friends with him meant a lot to her too.

Dear Bill,

the rose is going stronger than ever. I had to get a bigger glass from the kitchen as it keeps growing and is not even close to withering away.

I know it would be better if Harry stopped talking about You-Know-Who around that woman but at the same time, I admire him for it. We should all spread awareness that our world might not be as safe as it used to be and don’t worry we are doing something about it!

Harry, Ron, and Hermione came up with an idea to have secret lessons on how to defend ourselves. We had a meeting a week ago and I have to say they are quite prepared. I will tell you if we would need any spells to work on but I think Harry has a whole curriculum for us and I can’t help but be excited about it!

We will have these meetings in secret, don’t you worry and all your siblings are a part of it, so they will all know how to defend themselves.

Fred, George, and I have an idea how to get back at Umbridge. It would take weeks to execute the plan but it might just work to make other students want to fight back!

I know you trust Dumbledore and so do I, but to be honest he hasn’t been around much. Perhaps that’s the reason she can get away with everything she wants.

We will keep an eye out and try and protect and get as many students on our side as we can. We are doing a great job so far, a lot of people that didn’t believe Harry before are on our side now and that gives me hope.

How is it on your side? How are you handling everything?

Expressing my concern for you in the hopes you are okay,

Theodora

Theodora came to her dorm late one evening – exhausted from another DA meeting. She fell on her bed – with her nose straight into the sheets – when she heard her body crushing something. She moved to see what it was and found a letter in the middle of her bed.

Dear Theodora,

I can’t express how proud I am of you, my siblings, and all your friends for doing what you are. I think you are doing the right thing creating this secret group of yours and I hope you won’t get caught.

I believe Harry is the best teacher you could have. He, after all, faced the Dark Lord many times and I think we could all learn something from him. I secretly wish to be there with you. It not only sounds nice to learn new spells but also fun for doing so with your friends.

I feel relief that Ginny and Ron are a part of it. I know that the twins are quite good with their spellwork but Ginny and Ron are still young and I don’t even want to imagine them fighting.

Dumbledore, unfortunately, has a lot on his mind and is also working on something else about which I can’t tell you for your own protection. Let’s just say that you are not the only one forming a group.

You are truly remarkable, do you know that? Wanting to help the younger students and promising to protect them without even thinking twice about it, makes me think that the Hat did a great job sorting you into Gryffindor.

Thank you for expressing your concern for me. I can assure you I am doing fine. I am thinking about leaving Egypt so I can be closer to home. I know it’s my dream job but family and friends are more important and if anything ought to go down, I want to be there to help and I can’t see myself doing so from Egypt.

Things here are okay otherwise. Of course, a day doesn’t go by without whispers and people expressing concern even though it seems we are so far away from troubles.

I promise I will stay out of harm's way so you needn’t worry about me.

Bill

Theodora read the letter twice – as she did with every single one Bill sent her. She couldn’t deny that she was getting quite fond of them writing back and forth so much and it made her mind more peaceful knowing that Bill was okay.

She yawned and looked at the time. It wasn’t even 10 in the evening but she felt so tired. She folded the piece of parchment and promised herself to write him back the second she wakes up tomorrow.

Dear Bill,

Our meetings are going great. As you can imagine Freddie and Georgie are having no problems perfecting all their spells. Ron is doing a great job too! I think all three of them were pleasantly surprised by Ginny though. Your sister is one of the most powerful witches I have ever seen!

Her spells are so strong and she doesn’t need much time at all to master them. All your brothers are very proud of her and I think their mind is more at ease – knowing Ginny is perfectly capable of defending herself. She isn’t a baby anymore!

My heart is lighter knowing that you are doing okay. I fully support you if you decide to come back to be closer to your family. My brother Eric is thinking of doing the same. He doesn’t trust my mother to take good care of me and him being an Auror could help when things get bad.

I think it would mean a lot to your family to have you closer. I know Mrs. Weasley would sleep better at night. Charlie wrote to me a few days ago, saying that she is constantly asking him if he is alright being so far away. I can imagine you are getting the same letters.

I wish you could be able to come here and help us with DA but with you being in a similar organization you probably have a lot on your mind as it is.

Being in Egypt has its perks as the tension isn’t as bad as here I believe, but I know I would lose my mind not being here to help and to constantly think about how my family is.

Your number one supporter for you to come home,

Theodora

#harry potter fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world #bill weasley fluff #bill weasley fanfiction #bill weasley x oc #bill weasley imagine #summer at the burrow #bill weasley romance #fred weasley #george weasley #charlie weasley

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write-orflight · 4 years

Text

Like Real People do. Chapter 5

*Gif not mine*

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Very Angsty flashbacks to torture/death,

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N This Chapter is very short and backstory heavy and it’s full of angst so sorry. Message to be added to taglist. Much love, Cia

Chapter 5: What did you bury?

“Y/N!” You come back to with a start, you are seated on the ground next to your driver’s side door, Spencer is looking into your eyes intensely.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What did Hotch say?” He asks, helping you on to your feet. You brush off asphalt from your shorts.

“I have to go to the office.” You say absently, You move to open your driver’s side door. Spencer slams it shut.

“There’s no way I’m letting you drive when you’re this upset.” He holds his hand out for your car keys, which you reluctantly hand over. He was right, you shouldn’t drive.

The drive to Quantico is silent, Spencer seeming to know you didn’t want to talk right now. Instead, he kept one of his hands off the wheel and held yours, letting you squeeze as tight as you can.

When you arrive at the building, Hotch is already waiting in the middle of the bullpen. “Y/N/N.” he says, sadly. You nod at him. “Spencer what’re you doing here?”

“Umm, we were out for a movie when you called sir. She fainted, I just wanted to make sure she was ok.”

Hotch nods, choosing not to comment on the date he very clearly interrupted. “Let’s talk in my office, Y/N.”

You nod, standing up silently to follow Hotch, you spare Spencer a small smile as you walk by but all he does is look back at you with concern.

You step inside, sitting in the chair in front of hotch’s desk. As soon as you hear the door click you say the first word you’ve said in an hour.

“No.”

“Y/N…” Hotch levels, you cut him off.

“No Hotch, I’m not just going to sit across from that man and tell him exactly what he wants to hear. I-I can’t do that.” You shake, the tears are leaving you involuntarily. Hotch comes to sit next to you grasping your hands

“I know, Y/N.” Hotch says. “I’m not going to make you.”

“I’m sensing there’s a but coming.” You say.

“But…” He says. “I believe if we work his Victimology backwards we can figure out where they are ourselves but that means--”

“I’d have to tell the team about me?” You ask. He nods. “Ok, call them.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you have any idea why we’re being called in so late?” Derek asks the group, Emily and JJ shake their heads no, Rossi opts to stay silent. He knew why they were there, it was only a matter of time. He and Hotch knew about Ferguson’s demand but kept it quiet, choosing to not tell you until it was absolutely necessary. Now it seems that day has come.

Spencer stayed silent. He was worried about you, he’d never seen you this way. Your typically bright, sunny demeanor seemed to dissipate completely as soon as she got that call from Hotch. He didn’t know what i was about and because of that he didn’t know how to help and that hurt.

Later you, Hotch, and Garcia, file into the conference room. You feel eyes on you as you’d been crying heavily and everyone could tell. You took your seat next to Spencer who’s eyes seem to bore into you more intensely now. You try to avoid eye contact with him as Garcia presents the case

Your case.

“Gabriel Ferguson, age 46, killed 11 people between the years 1996-1998, All two parent families; with a teenage daughter.” Garcia rattled off. She looked at you awkwardly, before continuing. “He would break in at night, Slitting the parents’, starting with the dad, throats before kidnapping the daughter. Then he would keep the daughter’s hostage for 2-3 weeks before their bodies would turn up asphyxiated, laid with arms crossed over the chest.”

“Wait, we’re doing the Beechwood Killer case? That case is a decade old.” Derek interjects. “And isn’t he already on death row? Why are we reviewing that sick bastard’s case?”

“Yea, He killed 2 agents, didn’t he?” Spencer adds. Oh, god… You think. Feeling the bile that was rising in the back of your throat, you grimaced swallowing it down. “But they never found the daughter’s body.”

“There was no body.” you say quietly. Everyone’s eyes snap to you. Garcia and Hotch look at you sadly, you nod slightly to let them know you were ok, at least for right now.

“What do you mean? It completely doesn’t fit his profile to let the daughter live, her body’s still out there, most likely--” Spencer starts, you cut him off.

“He didn’t let me live!” You snap. Everyone was for sure looking at you now. You swallow the lump in your throat. You sigh. “The FBI did a decent job of covering everything up and sealing the records, and if it were still up to me none of you would have to know about this.” You take a deep heavy sigh before starting. “My mother was Special Agent Alice Y/L/N, she just worked in white collar crimes but my father was Special Agent Noah Y/L/N, he was a profiler for the BAU for years and investigated Ferguson's case with Hotch and Rossi. After a while, My dad started getting threatening letters from Ferguson, telling him to stop looking into him. Of course my dad didn’t listen and well--” You cut yourself off, trying to manage to sob that wanted to rip through your body. “He slit my parent’s throats in front of me and kept me hostage in his basement for 2 weeks before Hotch found me.” You finish, and look up at everyone. They were all looking at you with such pity, Garcia had tears in her eyes. Spencer looked livid, like he was boiling mad. “They never found the first family's bodies, He’s agreed to reveal where they are if I-- if I come talk to him. Guys, I-I can’t--” The tears you were trying to hold back were coming out of the woodwork now. Spencer's hand instantly finds yours under the table, he lets you squeeze his hand tightly.

“We’re not going to make you, baby girl.” Derek adds. “We’ll find them, ok?”

“Gabriel Ferguson's death is scheduled for the 13th, that’s five days from now. I hope I don’t need to stress time being of the essence here.” Everyone shakes their heads. “Alright get to work.”

Everyone files out of the conference room until it's just you and Spencer. You realize, you were still grasping his hand, you let go. He instantly moves closer to you, wiping the stray tear from your face.

“Are you ready to move yet?” He asks, you shake your head more tears involuntarily falling. “That’s ok, We’ll sit here for a second.”

---------------------------------------------------

Spencer drove you home that night, the team deciding it’d be best if you sat this one out. You didn’t want that but when Hotch leveled you with a stern look you left, feeling dejected.

Spencer walked you to your door, mouth opening several times as if he wanted to say something but he couldn’t find the words. You decide to make it easy on him by opening your arms. He instantly sweeps you into the tightest hug, your arms wrapping around his neck. You stay like that for a moment, stray tears falling involuntarily from your face. You eventually try to pull away but he doesn’t let you get too far.

“Spence, you’ve gotta let go.” You laugh, sadly.

“No.” He mumbles into your shoulder. He does release you though, squeezing you one last time.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

“No, you’ve got to help the others, besides I won’t be alone, Garbage is here.” You say, to reassure Spencer, he doesn’t look too convinced to leave you under the supervision of a 9 month old kitten. “Spencer, I’ll be fine. I’m probably going to sleep.” You open your door to go inside, Spencer grabs your hand before you can step out of the doorway.

“If you need anything at all, you call me.” He says.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, dad.” You start to close the door but his hand instantly shoots out to stop you.

“I’m serious, Y/N.” A stern look crossed his face, you’d never seen that look before and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it was hot. “Anytime. I’ll be awake.”

“I will, Spen.” You say. He nods at you once before turning leaving you alone in your apartment.

You didn’t lie when you said you were tired so as soon as your head hits the pillow, you fall into a deep slumber, Garbage mewling beside you.

--------------------------------------------------------

It’s been 3 days, and according to Spencer the team wasn’t any closer. You couldn’t blame them, it was a decade old case, the trail had gone cold a while ago. You knew the only way you could help those family’s get closure was facing Gabriel one last time.

You went to the office despite Hotch telling you to steer clear for a couple days, you had to go tell him you were ready. You stopped by your desk dropping your bag off, you noticed the bullpen was empty. Strange… you think. You head to the conference room, assuming that’s where everyone was.

You were right, you heard Spencer explaining the geographical profile he’d come up with, nothing could’ve prepared you for when you saw the boards. You were a profiler, you’ve seen crime scene photos before you knew what it looked like when you were working, pinned up pictures of victims, hoping they’d give you some type of clue. You knew this part of the job but nothing prepared you for seeing your parents the way they looked that night and despite your best efforts you were back to that night again.

“Beloved, I’m sorry you have to see this.” His gravel-like voice whispered softly in your ear. His breath was putrid, making you light headed. You struggled your bound hands, keeping your tongue back so you wouldn’t have to taste the dirty t-shirt he gagged you with. He used the knife to lift your chin slightly. “Usually, I like to do this part separately but something tells me you’re just like your father. So you need to be shown what happens when you’re disobedient.

He circles around you until he is in front of your father. “I told you not to look for me.” He stands behind him, knife pressing deeply into your dad’s neck. “Anything, you want to say to Beloved?”

Your dad looks at you with sad, scared eyes. “I love you, Angel. Look away.”

You shut your eyes tightly, you didn’t see it but you didn't need to. You heard it and to make it worse you felt it. The blood sprayed hitting you in the left side of your face. You didn’t open your eyes, you couldn’t. If you did it was proof this was real. You heard his heavy feet move until they stopped. You assumed in front of your mother. You heard her soft melodic voice one more time.

“I love you. Do good, Please.”

Then you heard the same awful noise again.

When you came back everyone was watching you, waiting for the shoe to drop you assumed. Spencer and Morgan’s bodies now conveniently in front of the board, obstructing the view. Your mother’s words played back in your ear. Do good. Right now, you weren’t doing good. You were being a coward.

“Take it down.” You say, Everyone just looks at you incredulously.

“Y/N…” Hotch says.

“Take it down, we weren’t getting anywhere anyway and my parents don’t deserve their last moments on display like that anymore.”

“But, Y/N, The bodies…” Garcia trails off.

“I’ll talk to him.” You say.

“Y/N/N, No--” Spencer interjects.

“It’s not up to you.” You snap. “If I don’t do it then I’m just proving him right, that he still after all this time, has power over me. That I still fear him. I can’t let him win again.” You say looking at the group. “Tell the warden that we’re requesting he be interviewed in an FBI interrogation room.” You tell Hotch. “If I’m doing this it’s my terf, not his.”

Hotch nods at you. “Of course, whatever you want.”

You nod, walking out of the conference room, preparing yourself to walk into the lion’s den.

Taglist: @haylaansmi @yoruebeautiful @kianagilder-blog @l0ve-0f-my-life @bihoeofmanyfandoms @dreamer7black @baby-banana @drreidshands @blameitonthenight21 @slyskyeey @liaabsurd @di-essere-amato @oliviamaerose

#spencer reid x reader smut #spencer x reader smut #bau x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader

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lilydalexf · 3 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Rachel Nobel / Rae Lynn

Rachel Nobel, aka Rae Lynn, has 2 fics at Gossamer, but she’s written many more X-Files stories than that. You can also find fics by her at AO3 and various other archives. She’s one of the rare, special authors who’s posted numerous fic during the show’s original run and again in recent years. Big thanks to Rachel for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)? Absolutely. I joined a Facebook group for fanfic writers where someone recognized my name and asked about some of my stories that have disappeared from the Internet, and I almost fell off my chair. On the other hand, I go back and read original-run fanfic all the time - the Wayback Machine is my best friend for all the late great fanfic archives. Like fine wines, they get better with age! What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? I was fairly young during the peak of the fandom - I was only 12 when I started watching the show and discovered the fandom online. A few years ago, right around the time we learned the revival was coming, I wrote an essay I called "How 'The X-Files' defined my adolescence," in which I wrote: "If you think about it, 'The X-Files' is a lot like adolescence: You start out thinking it's going to be a little hokey, NBD, and then you end up in its thrall, captivated and occasionally hugely let down. A lot of people behave strangely, and no one gets out unscathed. Mulder, in his own weird way, is the perfect mirror for an adolescent: He doesn't fit in; his life careens between being utterly consequential to the fate of the known universe and being completely pointless; he's socially awkward and can't quite nail it down with the girl of his dreams."

So for me, the fandom is inextricably bound up with adolescence, that feeling of vacillating between desperate loneliness and being on the verge of something enormously significant. Take romance: I was a bit of a late bloomer, and when all my friends were exploring their first relationships I was watching Mulder and Scully navigate this beautiful, complicated, soulful relationship without ever even kissing. That was deeply affecting for me as a teen.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? I started out on mailing lists - there was an EMXC mailing list and one that I think was called X-Angst. [Lilydale note: There was a mailing list called XAngst Anonymous.] This was back at the dawn of the Internet when I only had 10 hours of AOL access a month, and I remember using what AOL called a "FlashSession" to log on, download all the fanfic from the mailing list and log off to read it. I vividly remember the excitement of watching all that new fanfic flood my inbox! Later on I was on atxc. During the long summer between "Gethsemane" and "Redux," it felt like fanfic was at its peak. There was a group of about a dozen women who got together (virtually) to discuss a work in progress by Lydia Bower called "Primal Sympathy." We called ourselves the "Primal Screamers," and we had our own website with fanfic recommendations and other discussions (it cracked me up to locate us as an entry on Fanlore.org). I was still in high school at the time and I was the youngest member; I felt like I had been accepted into a cool underground club. I worshipped these women, who were fanfic writers themselves. They taught me everything I knew about how to be a decent, respectful, enthusiastic consumer and writer of fanfic and fandom. [Lilydale note: I’ve talked enthusiastically about the Primal Screamers here before, including their fanfic primer.] What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? In the '90s, I would have been embarrassed to tell anyone I read fanfic, let alone that I was writing it. Now, I look back on it and realize how talented and smart and passionate we all were. It's something to be proud of. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? The first episode I ever saw was "Shadows," which was on in reruns between the second and third seasons. I don't think "Shadows" is an episode that anyone today would consider thematically significant, but something about seeing those office supplies float spookily through the air - it wasn't like anything I had seen on television, and I wanted in. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic? I've always been a person who, when I am interested in something, seeks to learn more about it. So I guess I got online as a 12-year-old with this new interest and discovered fanfic. It was thrilling to find out that so many talented people were taking characters I loved and bringing them to life for me. When the screen faded to black each week and I wondered, "That's it? What next?", fanfic was always there to fill in the blanks and take Mulder and Scully to the next level. As a teenager, I was self-indulgent enough to think I had something to contribute, too. Most of what I wrote in the '90s would today make me cringe. I remember literally paging through the dictionary in search of erudite words I thought Mulder and Scully would say! But occasionally I'll feel brave enough to read an old story and I feel encouraged to see a spark: a turn of phrase or a fragment of dialogue that I still feel proud of. I write professionally now, but I've never written fiction that isn't X-Files fiction, so it's something that has really allowed me to hone my creative juices in a different way. What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? Sometimes I feel like the Statler and Waldorf of the fandom, like I'm sitting up in the balcony grousing "Back in my day...!" Because the fandom is remarkably robust, and I've gotten involved with it to an extent on Twitter and AO3, and now all these young whippersnappers idolize Mulder and Scully just as much if not more as I ever did! Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files? Not really, no. I've of course consumed a lot of media since The X-Files that I wanted to discuss with others - I'm a huge "Harry Potter" nerd, and I was outraged when Netflix canceled "The OA" - but strangely I've never had the urge to read or write fanfic about anything other than "The X-Files." Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Every Thursday night! I watch a chosen episode with a group of fans on Twitter and tweet about it - #tbtXFiles. That's great fun. There are episodes I've seen dozens of times over the years and episodes I think I only ever watched once, and it's always enlightening to watch them again with a certain critical eye. When I was a fan during the original run, I really idolized Mulder; I loved episodes where we saw him in all his cracked genius glory. Scully was a trailblazer of a character, of course, but I think the fandom has evolved over the years to give Scully her due. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I was fairly stunned when the revival came around and I realized that people were still writing X-Files fic, and that a lot of it was so good. So yes, I do read fic on Archive of Our Own. But my heart is always with the early days of fanfic. In the revival when Mulder says "I've always wondered how this was going to end" - that felt to me almost like a love letter to fanfic authors who had been trying to answer that question for 25 years. Surprisingly, I've never had the urge to read fic in another fandom. Every time I try, it just feels like I'm cheating on Mulder and Scully. Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors? My favorite author back in the day was Kipler. Her stories were just like real episodes of the show I could vividly imagine in my mind. I adore syntax6, particularly "20" and "The Birthday Stories," because of the way she perfectly and poignantly captures vignettes that span the entire series. Another favorite is Dawn and her "Blood Ties" series - I started out as a "NoRomo," and Dawn was one of the authors who made me believe Mulder and Scully could have a romantic relationship that really worked. And I always had a soft spot for Profiler!Mulder stories, so to this day I mourn the unfinished state of the great Kronos fic "Ascent to Hell." One fic I always come back to that captures profiling Mulder really well is "Domination of Lies," by cslatton. And then there are stories that I consider classics: "Corpse" by Livengoo, "Oklahoma" by Amperage and Livengoo, the "Revelations" and "All Hallow's Eve" series by Windsinger. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise? I have a soft spot for a story I wrote called "Human Credential." I was attempting, a quarter-century after the first season of the show, to set a story in the very early days of the partnership (which these days is one of my favorite kinds of fanfic to read), and I felt like I nailed it. Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online? I have been doing both of these, as a matter of fact! Or in my case, they are oldies that made it online but vanished when Geocities went belly-up, for example, that I sometimes go back to and reshape. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work? As the swallows return to Capistrano, I seem to always return to writing fic at periods of transition in my life. The first time I "retired" from fanfic, I wasn't even in college yet! If one can be nostalgic at 21 years old for something one gave up at 17, I was nostalgic for fanfic, and I picked it back up again in grad school. Then I became a teacher and a wife and a mom and years passed, and the revival seduced me back into it again. But the vast majority of fanfic I've written is firmly planted in the first seven seasons of the show - poor Mulder and Scully never seem to get to grow up in my stories. What's the story behind your pen name? I wrote under a lot of pen names over the years! When I first started writing fanfic, no one knew anything about Internet safety and it didn't occur to me that it wasn't wise to use my real name. There was a period when I would have been mortified if anyone discovered my stories under my real name - now, at least I can write it off as a youthful indulgence! When I finally grew into a more mature writer, I started using the name Rae Lynn, which is almost-but-not-quite my real first and middle names. Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? As far as I know, unless my friends and acquaintances have done some sleuthing, only my husband knows I still write fanfic. And he's never read it, though he's kind enough to give me a glazed-eyes indulgent smile if I ever talk about it. Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now? I am xraelynn on AO3! I have about a dozen stories there - some of them I wrote 15 years ago and some of them are brand spanking new. Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Fanfic is a true labor of love. Fanfic authors don't write fanfic for money or fame; they do it because they love it. Sites like AO3 and Tumblr have made it so much easier to show your appreciation to writers (::gruff reminiscing voice:: back in my day, you had to send them an email, and now you can just click the "kudos" button!). I can only speak for myself, but I really thrive on that feedback - otherwise I'm just Mulder in his cramped hovel of a home office waiting for Scully to nag me to shave my beard. Every so often I think about the fact that there is so much high-quality writing about these characters I've loved for decades just available on the Internet for free and it feels like a true gift.

(Posted by Lilydale on May 4, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #rachel nobel #rae lynn

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cowboisadness · 3 years

Text

Found You {Arthur Morgan x F!reader}

Summery: She was there for Arthur through everything, being more than good friends but less than partners. They support eachother through the good and bad times, it’s not love tho, no, it’s not love at all.

Rating: M. Basically porn with plot. More plot than i planned i really got carried away with this. I’m mean to Mary i’m sorry. Includes angst, heartbreak and all that painful shit.

—–

Chapter 2 - Lost

He's piss drunk, I can smell it in the air and he's nursing an almost empty bottle of aged pirate rum. The strong stuff. He doesn't say a word as I sit beside him, not too close to invade his space, just far enough for him to know I'm here if he needs me.

I've never seen him this broken, his eyes puffy and unable to concentrate on anything around him. He tries, tries to concentrate on the flames ahead of him, they illuminate his face in a bright orange hue, dancing across his saddened features. I want nothing more than to embrace him at that moment, hold him tight and tell him he's going to be okay, that it's going to be better, that the pain will diminish with time, that I will be here for him through it all.

He lets out a shaken sigh as he takes in a breath, not looking to me before he speaks.

“She doesn't want me no more.” It’s barely above a whisper and I can't tell if he's saying it to me or himself. My body is screaming, my heart aching, remembering the promise I made to myself almost two years ago when we first started getting closer, that I would do everything in my power to protect him from any suffering. I instinctively moved towards him with haste, pulling him close and enveloping him in my arms. At first, I thought he would refuse and push me away but he didn’t, he leaned into my embrace, accepting the blanket of support I could give him, that I always gave him.

He hadn't eaten or drank properly for days, and after much persistence from him, I finally got him to eat something, saying I wasn't going to stop until he did. Urging him to drink my water instead of booze, knowing he would thank me tomorrow. When exhaustion finally took over, we retired into his tent, holding each other close but not going further than that. Fucking was how we used to manage our emotions, but this situation demanded something more delicate, I just hoped being here would help him. As he quickly fell into what I hoped would be a peaceful sleep, I tightened my grip around his waist and whispered: “You don't know what you mean to me.”

He wouldn't come back with me the next morning, saying he needed a few more days and promised to return soon. He did of course, then resuming to get back to business with jobs and helping the camp, seemingly pushing his feelings to the bottom of his heart and into the depths of his brain.

He seemed to get better over the months, us both flinging ourselves into jobs and robberies. It was almost like the good old days, his spark was back, he wasn't hurting or worrying anymore.

That was until he received a letter from a woman I never heard of, telling him of his son he now has. He explained it all to me, how he had met a beautiful young waitress on the night I had left him. He said he wasn't thinking straight, that his emotions made him confused, the alcohol making him desperate to feel something other than the pain.

He tried his best to be there for them when he could, sending money and visiting every couple of months. He would tell me how Isaac was doing, that he taught him how to fish and planned on teaching him to ride when he was a bit older. He was proud of his son but it pained him that he couldn't do more for them, the gang always had to come first. I was there for all the stories and even helped him choose gifts for Isaacs birthdays, giving whatever advice I could give on raising a child, not that I knew much. After a few years disaster struck, Eliza and Isaac were murdered for the little money that they owned. Arthur didn't know till he saw the two crosses by the cabin, their names etched into the dark wood. I thought he was broken when Mary left him, but this, losing something so pure and innocent, it ruined him. He changed dramatically, keeping to himself, closing himself off to everyone else. No matter how much I tried to get him to open up he would dismiss me with harsh words, no longer willing to accept mine or anyone else's support. I refused to break the promise I made to myself years ago and whether he knew it or not, I'd still support and look out for him whenever I could, even though it would be at a distance. Dutch and Hosea tried to help, they knew the pain of losing a loved one. Hosea suffered the most after Bessie passed, he turned to the bottle for a full year, losing himself and almost his mind. The ever-loving father figure didn't want the same to happen to someone he saw as his son. The five of us, including John and Tilly, would talk about his decline, how he seemed to close off his heart and become cold. We tried to distract him, help him to forget or cope in ways that would stop him becoming the shell of the man he once was.

The gang had grown a great deal within a couple of years. You would believe having a supportive family around you would assist in not feeling alone and prevent you from hitting rock-bottom. But when someone relentlessly denies any and all support from those around them, they can't be helped. Not until they realise they need it. I lost the Arthur I fell for years ago - No - I don't have those sort of feelings for him, never have.

Over the next few years the gang ran into the worst trouble we have ever gotten ourselves into, we had to flee into the harsh mountains and leave the west behind us before heading back down south when it was safer. We lost people, good people, lost a lot of money and supplies, basically starting from scratch once we made camp in Horseshoe Overlook, hiding from the law, large bounties over a few of our heads.

It was here Arthur received a letter from Mary asking for help. It brought back many hard memories for Arthur, unearthing his old emotions from the depths. He bent to her will of course, but after he visited her to help with whatever she wanted he found nothing would become of them again, a small part of him hoped there was a chance.

He was suffering again, confused again.

Mary was using him, using his still evident feelings for her to her advantage. Did she know how this was affecting him? Did she care? Seeing him being drawn back to her despite knowing it wouldn't work out, well, it enraged me, more than it probably should have. He had pushed me away not long after the loss of Eliza and Isaac, no longer was I able to be the one he could confide in but by God, I wasn't going to stand on the sidelines and watch him get hurt by her again.

I loved him too much to see that happen. I made a promise.

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