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bananasmores · 2 years

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Talking about what I’ve learned recently about art block/motivation in a way that I hope is helpful

I have art block more often than I don’t have it, I think I just always have it and sometimes I can push art through the cracks of it very rarely, but it doesn’t seem to go away at all; making art has always been uncomfortable for me (personally) I’ve always been really frustrated because the only thing I’ve been passionate about is art, but if you don’t have any strong interests besides art and a vague idea of ‘getting good enough’ then you dont have things to draw and things come out stale and lifeless. honestly the best art advice that i didnt understand well enough when i heard it the first time, and only really GOT when i fell ass-backwards into figuring it out, was “find interests/hobbies that arent related to art”.

if you let obsession with improvement and nothing else get ahold of you, it’s going to get out of control fast. ‘why am i not better yet when all i do is think about this and try to paint ladders on the wall to get out of this hole’. it gets really embarrassing to yourself. It’s really really hard if you have this mentality but you have to draw for yourself, learn to be self indulgent. I’ve read literally those words a hundred times and didnt fully absorb them in a way i could act on, so i dont know that typing them here for other people having the same problem is helpful. actual actionable advice that has helped me with this specific problem: -chase passing interests in anything, just enjoy things. put the idea of art out of your brain, itll come back. (personally the way that worked for me is “im very passionate about this subject and i want to tell people about it AND communicate how it makes me feel”)

-have secret hobbies to let yourself be bad at. pick up a new creative thing and make stuff that way without focusing on improvement, just enjoy whatever comes out of playing around. make some kind of pseudonym/secret blog/whatever so you can collect what you make. even if youre not trying to improve, its going to happen and being so new to something that youre constantly improving a ton is exciting and this will help you feel something about creating things without expectations. its especially fun if the specific avenue you go with has a reputation for being “cringe” or “childish”. have fun, cringe is fun.

-if you post art and then keep checking back to see if people like it: holy shit do not post something when you’ve just finished it and you’re proud of it; make the art and then drop it in the queue for a few days away, make the time longer if youre antsy about it. try really hard to not tie your feelings to other peoples reactions to your art.

-i dont know how universal this is, maybe it’s just me being avoidant, but i make art and personal accounts separate, and turn off notifications for art accounts. if its important and for professional stuff, have a contact page. if its a tumblr sideblog where i doodle horses, i turn the askbox off. i don’t remember who said it but “i drew this for myself but you can look at it too if you want” has stuck with me and has been one of the most helpful things about art ive heard.

i think because of the entire Capitalism Thing, if you do art for a job, there’s a feeling that if it’s real work it needs to be miserable and hard or else you’re goofing off. but if you burn yourself out for years because you think art as a job needs to be torturous or it’s rude to people working other jobs then.obviously thats not sustainable. take care of yourself and your mental health. ive worked a lot of (non art, physical industrial) jobs and while i’m glad to do art now, please remember you’re a person before you’re your job title. (especially right now) i hope this is understandable, ive been dealing with this issue (+avpd) for years and am finally starting to get ahold of it and i want to shorten this struggle for anyone else that has it if at all possible.

#askbox is briefly open for this #verryy briefly and super selective about answer things bc. avpd #i appreciate nice comments and i save them in my inbox but its hard to answer them publicly without feeling like a jerk #but sincere thank you your nice comments mean a lot to me

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

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Everything I Wanted (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,700 + Warning: Adult language, adult situations Premise: After all this time, her social media posts have a way of captivating him...until he turns the tables on her. Part 3 of Lovely and Ocean Eyes.

________________ Ethan walked down the corridor on a seemingly normal workday, far too aware that his steps were lighter and the smile he fought so hard to conceal made its appearance more often than not. For the sake of his reputation, he schooled his features into his usual unwelcoming and severe expression, though part of him worried that he was fooling exactly no one.

Perhaps his face betrayed the way his pulse picked up pleasantly at the memory of the shy smile she offered him every time they crossed paths. The simple gesture was enough to brighten his mood, no matter how stressful his day. Somewhere down the line, Ethan had surrendered to the effortless way Dr. Lilac Allende drove him to distraction.

His good mood quickly soured, however, when he walked past the locker room on the third floor. Typically, he studiously blocked out all the mindless conversations that drifted out into the hall, but a particular name caught his ear.

“Damn,” a tall, burly intern was saying as he glanced at his phone. “I knew Dr. Allende was hot but.. just wow.”

His friend closed the locker door and walked over to glance at the screen, nodding in approval. “What's her deal? She single?”

The first intern scoffed, almost derisively. “Thinking of asking her out, Reyes?”

Reyes looked unabashed, maintaining an easy grin that was almost arrogant. It made Ethan want to punch it right off his face. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Is she still with Lahela? They were a thing a while back, I think?”

Ethan had the mad urge to step in and correct the false statement, but he abstained. The two morons before him had no right to Lilac's personal life.

Reyes stared at the phone screen again and gave a low whistle. “Her Pictagram is a work of art. The things I'd do–”

“The things you're going to do, Dr. Reyes, are your actual job duties,” Ethan said through girt teeth, stepping into the room.

Perhaps it was his sudden appearance or the downright murderous glare the older doctor was sending their way, but the pair of interns fumbled, the first one almost dropping the phone. By the time they straightened up to face Ethan, they looked far too rigid, uncomfortable, and downright terrified. The verbal lashing he unleashed on them was one for the books. In the end, there was no trace of arrogant smirks as both interns walked away, pale and with the extra workload Ethan assigned.

Finally alone, he exhaled a sharp, steadying breath. At least there were a few guarantees in life, even if things had changed: he could still reduce grown men to tears and these damn interns were going to drive him to an early grave.

Considerably calmer, Ethan produced his phone from his pocket and opened the too familiar Pictagram page. One glance at her latest picture and the two idiots' reactions made sense, even if they were still not justified.

Fucking hell.

Just like his moronic predecessors, Ethan almost dropped his phone, stifling a cough. Any trace of gentlemanly thoughts vanished as his eyes took in her bare shoulder, exposed so intentionally and coyly. All he could think about was running his lips along the curve of it, his fingers slowly tugging the black robe lower until it pooled on his floor.

Before his primal mind could add his teeth and the moans she'd reward him with to this fantasy, his eyes fell on the caption.

Stay?

Ethan could hardly fight back the grin the single word inspired. The previous morning, as she had stopped by his office to use his coffee machine, he pointed out how useless Pictagram was. Lilac was quick to remind him that he seemed to be enjoying it, referencing the reaction he'd had to her previous posts. Determined to save face, Ethan had blurted that he might even delete his account.

A smug smile over her shoulder had been her reply along with a sultry promise. “I bet I can make you change your mind.”

She had accomplished just that along with taking root in his every thought. The need to see her became so acute, that he sought her out in every hallway he turned into. Finally, he found her in one of the break rooms, laughing and chatting with her intern, Dr. Ortega.

“This coffee machine is the worst,” he heard Ortega complain. She rattled the cup as though the action would force it to hurry. “I can't believe I'm going to be late because of shit coffee.”

Lilac laughed. “Shit coffee is better than no coffee.”

“Spoken like someone who has a mysterious coffee source.”

With another laugh, Lilac mimed zipping her lips shut. Dr. Ortega snorted with laughter, which was a rare enough sight.

“At least rounds are not with Dr. Ramsey this morning,” Ortega continued as she sniffed disapprovingly at her cup. “I'd be dead meat for being even two minutes behind.”

“And that's considering the guy's mellowed out in the past few months,” a nurse chimed in from his place at the loveseat. “He was far grumpier before. Something or someone is putting that man in a good mood every night.”

Ethan felt his neck flare up, his eyes solely on Lilac, looking as lovely as ever and utterly unfazed.

“That poor soul,” Lilac commented so convincingly, Ethan almost believed it. “Whoever that is.”

The nurse had no reaction, invested in his newspaper as he was and Ortega threw a hesitant smile at Lilac.

“I always kind of thought you two had a thing,” she confessed.

Lilac did not even react, taking a sip of her to-go cup. “Because I'm his so-called favorite?” When Esme nodded, Lilac shrugged. “Being on his radar comes with its cons.”

At this, Ortega nodded solemnly. “Yeah, he's harder on you, for sure.”

That was his cue. With absolutely no preamble, he marched into the breakroom, startling the three occupants with his mere presence.

“Allende, if you are done with your morning gossip session, I'd appreciate you getting me those labs I asked for.”

Lilac pushed herself off the counter at once. “Yes, doctor.”

They stared at one another, neither betraying a single emotion.

“Now. It's not like lives depend on it or anything.”

Ortega shot Lilac a sympathetic look, no doubt reconsidering her previous thoughts of their involvement. Without another word, Lilac followed Ethan out of the break room. Once they were alone in a deserted hallway, Lilac raised a brow at him.

“You didn't ask for any labs,” she said at the same time Ethan blurted out, “'That poor soul'?”

Lilac laughed and he joined her with a chuckle soon after, their bodies comfortably gravitating closer to each other. His hands throbbed with the raw, poignant need to touch her and the blinding disappointment of being unable to. The way Ethan longingly looked at her then, drinking in every one of her beautiful features, he imagined he looked like some yearning nineteenth century gentleman straight out of an Austen novel.

“Mine was more believable,” she pointed out, that witty, playful challenge in her eyes. An Elizabeth Bennet to his hopeless and bewitched Darcy.

“Not remotely,” he returned without missing a beat. “No one would deem the person having sex with me every night as 'poor.'”

“They would when said person could barely walk the next day.”

That made Ethan pause, the bravado slipping as his eyes fell on her rosy lips. His breath caught audibly at his throat.

They were standing so close together now, eyes locked on each other with palpable magnetism. If anyone walked by they would be found out without a doubt. Even more so if Ethan gave into the burning urge to kiss her right there and then.

Lilac gave him a coquettish smirk. “Did you like my post?”

Ethan found his voice again. “It was…”

There was no appropriate word to describe the delicious, sinful perfection of it.

“Nice?” she teased.

“Dr. Reyes and his idiot friend definitely thought so.”

Lilac snorted. “That explains the DM that sits unopened in my inbox. Jealous?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Good. They're not the ones who have me in their bed every night.”

Ethan almost stuttered like an imbecile. He fought back all indecent thoughts and returned, “You forget I have you against multiple different surfaces, Rookie.”

She paused briefly, eyes dark as they traveled down his body and back to his eyes again.

Fuck, she had him. He knew the look too well.

“Or against no surface at all, as you proved on your birthday.”

Ethan cursed.

Everything in her expression suggested that she fancied herself the victor of their Pictagram debate. Matching her smug smirk with a dashing smile of his own, he decided then to give her a taste of her own medicine.

________________________

Ethan, ever the prophet, had predicted the board meeting they were both required to attend would be pointless.

He had been right, of course. They both sat in the boardroom forty minutes into it, listening to Dr. Cyrus drone on endlessly about something that had little to do with patient care. Listening was a generous term because Lilac remained focused on her laptop, diligently updating patient files. Ethan, sitting across from her, was doing much of the same, the glare of his screen reflecting on his glasses.

Soon, the buzzing of her phone on the table pulled her away from her concentration. Her heart leaped when she saw it was a notification alerting to his latest Pictagram post. Confused, Lilac glanced up at him but he was too invested in his work to notice.

After ensuring no one was paying her any mind, she opened the app and regretted it at once.

One quick glance at artfully sculpted muscles and Lilac was reduced to a coughing mess. Dr. Cyrus stopped mid sentence to glare at her. Everyone else in the room followed suit to stare.

“Dr. Allende, are you alright?” Naveen asked with concern.

Ethan wordlessly handed her a bottle of water, his lips quirking ever so slightly, his fingers brushing hers. After a quick sip, she mumbled, “I'm fine. Sorry.”

Convinced, they resumed the meeting.

Lilac, meanwhile, attempted to catch Ethan's eye to throw him a glare, but he remained laser focused on his screen. Having no other alternative, she returned her attention to the picture. Soon, she was texting him.

Your one follower approves.

Her phone dinged almost immediately after with his reply. Her pulse spiked with excitement, which was ridiculous because she slept with the man every day.

I am aware. We all saw.

Cheeky bastard.

That was a low blow, Ramsey. And with a picture I took too.

He almost smiled when he read that.

Pay attention, Rookie.

She bit her lip, glancing up at him. Ethan was the perfect picture of professionalism, his stoic expression betraying nothing as he worked. Her eyes returned to the picture, her cheeks flushing.

Oh, I am.

To the meeting.

Oh. Dr. Cyrus has my undivided but unwilling attention.

Liar, he returned at once. For a man who claimed to hate texting, he was a master at sending them without anyone's notice.

I can tell because you actually look interested in what you're doing.

Lilac almost laughed out loud at that. She quickly turned her head away from the front of the table to avoid suspicion.

I am studiously taking notes.

Unless you're jotting down all of Cyrus's brown-nosing remarks to Naveen, I highly doubt that.

This time, a small squeak of laughter escaped her. Luckily for her, she was able to mask it perfectly with a dainty cough. No one at the table gave her a second glance, except for Ethan. Handsome as ever, his mouth quirked ever so slightly.

I don't need to take notes on that, she replied. I already know how to get on my boss's good side.

She watched as Ethan imperceptibly read her text, having no visible reaction.

Time to go in for the kill.

And the best side to get on is under him.

This time, it was Ethan who sputtered slightly and coughed. A furious blush started to color his neck and ears in a way that was entirely too satisfying. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't finished yet.

Although he actually enjoys me on top of him too.

Those piercing blue eyes found hers instantly, so dark and smoldering that she was struck motionless for a second. A familiar, molten heat pooled in her belly as Ethan's lustful gaze remained on her, unwavering. The longer they stared at each other, magnetized, the more evident it became that he would take her right there and then if it weren't for the company surrounding them.

When the meeting was adjourned for a break twenty minutes later, Lilac was assured that her texts had the intended effect. The tall, hard body of her boyfriend pressed hers flush against the door of his office the second it closed. A second after that, his full lips hungrily kissed her neck, his powerful hands gripping handfuls of her hips.

“You're determined to kill me,” he muttered darkly against her skin.

“But what a way to go,” she said in a whisper that gave way to a moan at the last word.

He agreed in the form of a husky groan that resonated deliciously against her throat. With almost lazy effort, he turned her body to face the door, strong hands guiding her backside to press urgently against him.

“The way you tease me, Lilac,” he whispered hotly in her ear, sending a powerful shiver through her. His hips began guiding her toward the nearest table with ease, his fingers slowly skimming their way up her thighs and under her skirt.

“You like it,” she challenged breathlessly.

Ethan hummed against her shoulder, pulling her blouse down in a perfect rendition of her post.

“It's torture.” Another searing kiss. “Seeing the way you look at me and not being able to take you against the nearest wall.”

Lilac had a witty response ready, but at that exact moment, his thumbs hooked around the lacy fabric of her underwear.

“Are these for me?” His voice was nothing more than gravel. Lilac's legs quivered, every sense proudly dominated by him.

“Yes,” she moaned, eyes fluttering closed in a heady rush. He had her bent over the table, her skirt bunching to indecent heights around her thighs.

Without another word, he removed the garment skillfully, sliding it slowly down her legs and bunching it in his fist. Lilac pressed herself further against him, aching painfully for him.

“Use them to tie me up,” she suggested in a ragged whisper.

Ethan cursed.

His hips jerked against hers, sliding the thick, hard column of his body against her. Lilac was so overcome with maddening need that her arms almost gave out from balancing her on the table.

She never found out if Ethan was delirious enough to take her whispered advice because both of their pagers went off with infuriating insistence.

“The meeting from hell that never ends,” he groaned. “Break is over.”

Lilac straightened against his chest, smirking when he made no movement to let her go. “To be continued?”

Ethan leaned in to kiss her neck. “Your bed or mine?”

Lilac swiveled in his hold, facing him with a smile that made her cheeks hurt. “Doesn't matter as long as it's you next to me.”

He matched her smile with an unfairly charming one of his own.

Though they were needed at the Board meeting, they stole another minute together in each other's arms. Lilac studied his handsome face briefly, feeling her heart restart as it often did when she realized he was finally hers. Perhaps he was hers in secret for the time being but he was hers nonetheless. The thought that after all the strife and hardship, she still found herself where she belonged, in his arms, made her smile grow wider.

“What?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I love you,” she told him, not for the first time.

It was his turn to give her a smile so incandescent that it stole her breath. “That's a relief,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Given that I am madly and desperately in love with you, Rookie.”

_____________

Author’s Note: Are we okay after those two new OH chapters?

I’m not! I have some ideas for future fics but we’ll see if the writing gods are in my favor.

Thank you for reading this senselessness. I love you for it.

-Bree

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Please let me know if I need to add/remove you. You might have asked me already but I can barely keep track of my life atm. Sorry!

@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite | @angela8756

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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secret-rendezvous1d · 3 years

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how about an alex first christmas home with his wife or gf? if your uncomfortable writing this prompt i completely understand

Hello, hi!

Welcome to Blogmas 2020. A couple of days later than I promised, and I apologise for that, but here we are.

Hopefully, the idea of how Blogmas 2020 is planned out will become a little clearer than how my very poor explanations explained it, haha.

Many more blurbs, many more chats and a lot more festivities to come; my inbox will be open all through December this year for blurb prompts for Blogmas so don’t feel afraid to pop in a prompt to get written for tis year; all I can say is that if you’re asking for a lengthy prompt, I’m not the right person right now, haha.

I’m welcoming absolutely anything for this year; any AU, any characters, any ideas.

Reblog, like, comment and share your thoughts with me. Please let me know what you think because feedback is always appreciated on here; much more appreciated now given that I’ve not written a lot in a long while. Please let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

A song to listen to throughout the second scene; Bing Crosby, I’ll Be Home For Christmas

“Look at the size of those toms,” Alex gushed in awe, rushing from his place at the kitchen cabinet, where the kettle was whistling on the stove, to grab the woven basket full of fresh garden vegetables from his wife’s arms, saving a couple of apples and pears from becoming bruised by the floor. “They’re massive.”

“There’s something in the soil, I think,” YN teased, wiping her soil-covered fingertips on the pink and white polka-dot apron tied around her waist. Traces of wet mud and dry soil clinging to the material, tiny specks falling to the floor but nothing bad enough that couldn’t be sweeped with the brush and pan. “You should see some of the runners growing in the corner. Nice and long, they are. Perfect for dinner tomorrow eve.”

“How are the potatoes coming along?”

“They’re good, I was going to dig them and the carrots up tonight before the nighttimes cold comes in,” she said softly, standing beside her husband as he unpacked the fruit and placed them in the empty fruit bowl. The kettle coming to a gentle boil, soon being warm enough for them to make a warm cup of tea to drink by the fire to warm themselves up.

The vegetables left in the basket - varying from cabbage and cauliflower to Brussels sprouts and onions - needed a good brush down and a wash under water but looked good enough to enjoy as part of their meal the next day. A meal that would be enjoyed by her parents, Alex’s parents and a couple of good friends who hadn’t had time to make it back home for Christmas, missing the last train out of London for a few days and unable to find a kind-hearted soul to take them two hours up north. It was also a meal that YN had been panicking over for almost the entire month of December… her first time cooking a Christmas dinner and she wanted it to be as perfect as possible to end a year that needed some cheer.

With the war coming to an end, for a second time, she felt safe and happy. Much safer and much happier than the last time a war was declared to have finished.

Maybe it was the fact that the four-year long terror of air raid sirens and bombings and unexpected blackouts had come to its end; maybe it was the fact that Britain had won the war and there was no more fear to live by; maybe it was the fact that her husband had been one of the lucky ones to come home safe and sound, able to celebrate Christmas as normal without worry that he was going to be called back to fight in the trenches and on the frontline; maybe it was the fact that everything was slowly going back to how it had been and life was on track to getting better.

“Dad’s always saying they taste and cook the best after a night in the cold,” Alex shrugged, taking a bite of an apple and feeling the juice trickle down his chin, something that YN’s thumb caught and wiped away, “I’ll go and dig them up tomorrow morning.”

“I wanted to start peeling and cutting them now,” she frowned, looking at him with furrowed brows, “go dig them up for now, please, darling?”

He mirrored her expression and folded his arms, half-bitten apple still in his hand, a smile toying his lips.

“Do I have to? It’s getting cold out there, I’ve got no jumper on and I’ve just put the kettle on,” he playfully whined, pouting his lips.

Her own eyebrows furrowed deeper on her browline, a silent plea for him to do what she said because she was stressing enough and didn’t want to be panicking so early tomorrow morning. All along he was going to do what she asked him to do, no word of a lie, but he found pure enjoyment in giving her the idea he had no intentions of helping. He placed his half-eaten apple on the kitchen counter and took a step towards her.

“Alright, as long as you do me the best cup of tea possible.”

“Of course, aren’t all my cups of tea the best?” To which he nodded and she grinned, squeezing his cheek and leaving a blush pink behind on his cheekbone, “I love you.”

“I love you the most,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to her cold forehead, reaching around her to grab the basket and tuck it under his arm, “I’ll have a look at these nice, long runners you’ve been speaking so highly about, too.”

“Mum called earlier. She’s grown some strawberries and rhubarb and said she was making a pie for our dessert tomorrow. I told her that with how hard you’ve been working with the garden, on all the veggies, we won’t need a pudding to eat because we’ll be so full of Christmas dinner,” Alex chuckled, peering over the newspaper in his hands to catch a glimpse of a smile on her lips, eyes still trained to the book she was reading in the gentle, almost, silence.

The radio crackled quietly in the background of the living room, playing a Christmas song that had a frequent place on the station they had programmed to work properly. Adding a sense of merriment to the room they were sat in; tinsel hanging on a scarce Christmas tree, with ornaments made from paper and cardboard, and Christmas cards on the windowsill from family and friends. There wasn’t much they could do but it was enough for them.

“Your mum makes a good pie though,” YN admitted, placing her finger between the pages she’d gotten to, “she didn’t have to do that though. She’s already done a lot for me this year and the last four so tomorrow is, kind of, all about giving back to her and your dad and my parents, too.”

Alex’s family had been a huge constant in her life during the wartime.

His mother had been non-stop on the phone with her about new gardening tips that her friends had told her about and seeds to share amongst themselves to grow a healthy batch of fruits to bake with - because they baked, a lot, and his mother had sent her back home with a brain full of new treats to bake and recipes to try out - and they took care of a flower patch in the front garden of Alex’s home, which seemed to pass the time. His father had been just as helpful to her, whenever he wasn’t in factories or working in machinery, coming by to put shelves up for her or to fix a hole in the roof that had begun to leak. Always popping by with a loaf of bread from the bakery and a tin of meat, that YN would put together as a sandwich and they’d eat until he knew his wife would be questioning his whereabouts. They allowed her to stay when she was feeling lonely, always looked out for her during the raids and insisted she stayed with them to wait it out, always insisting that she stayed with them until Alex was home so she wasn’t suffering with loneliness or panicking when blackouts occurred.

It had always been his mother cooking a Christmas dinner, promising she didn’t have to do anything but sit at the dining table and enjoy a healthy meal with family, with no worrying or getting upset that her own husband wasn’t there to enjoy the family festivities.

So it felt surreal when YN saw Alex dressed in his uniform, on the train station platform with a bag swung over his shoulder, in and amongst crowds of reunited families, knowing that they were about to have their life back on track. A Christmas together.

“My dad’s made a good sherry for us to have. Mum said he’s been working on it for almost a year now. Growing currants in the front garden and chasing kids away when he saw them picking at his bushes as they passed,” Yn giggled softly, because the image of her father chasing active youths down a street was rather amusing to her, reaching for her bookmark to keep her place in the book resting on her lap, “she says she’s barely seen him because he spends his time at the allotments, with his friends.”

Alex snuffled a laugh and folded his paper up, setting it on the floor beside the crackling fireplace.

“We should get an allotment. Could build a shed there to hide in when it rains, have you come and sit and watch me dig the veggies up, let you grow some flowers there. We’d be the best there,” he grinned, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “what do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea, baby.”

“Christmases only get better from here,” he stood to his feet and wiggled his fingers in her direction, “let’s have a dance.”

She smiled shyly and stood to her feet, toes all toasty and warm from the fire, reaching for his hands as he twirled her under his arm and let her dress, all dark green and red (which she insisted was her most Christmas-y dress in her wardrobe) billow out at the knees. With the occasional step on his bare toes, and a trip over his own feet, they managed to move themselves around the room with such an elegant sway to their hips as the gentle voice of Bing Crosby filled the room, with the ever so delightful song that YN imagined must have felt so personal to so many around Britain. And she couldn’t help but think of how many others were dancing, singing and crying as the tune filled merry homes, both happy and sad.

And she didn’t want to let her mind wander to the agonising pain of not having a loved one, let alone a husband, arrive home safe for Christmas… but it was planted there and she never ever wanted an experience so heartbreaking.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he hummed and it was in that moment that he felt a dribble of tears against his neck, his feet coming to a stop as the music carried on behind them, “hey now. No crying, we said. This is a happy end to the year, eh? A happy one.”

“I know but,” she choked on a tear and pulled away to look at him, “I’m so lucky you came home to me. To us. But, some women, they never got to say goodbye to their husbands, their brothers, their fathers and grandfathers. They never got to see them for Christmas this year, last year and the years before that. They never knew what was coming,” she whispered with a hushed voice that felt like if she spoke too loud, she’d have the entire country hearing her, as if the music was bad enough to bring out the emotions.

“I promised you, didn’t I, baby?”

She nodded softly and his thumbs wiped away her tears, collecting moisture on the tips of his pads, their eyes locking for a brief second.

“I promised you I’d make it back to you and I did, safe and sound,” he held her face in his hands and brushed the tip of his nose to hers, his warm breath flushing over her face as she sniffled and sobbed, “I’m never leaving you again. Never ever. I promise, no selfish bastard is going to keep us apart, not even for Christmas.”

#alex!au #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles prompts

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rkivepacks · 4 years

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TITLE: In the blurry memories from the other side of my dreams Originally posted on: AO3/dtgloss Pairing: taekook/kookv/vkook (Kim Taehyung & Jeon Jeongguk) Rating: PG13 Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2,889 Trigger Warning/s: Swearing Disclaimer: Title is from Lucid Dream - Monogram. This work is solely from the idea of the author. Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you!

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Summary: Jeongguk, Taehyung learns, has a habit of cancelling plans. Plans that were predetermined by Taehyung’s dreams. In his defense, he was not aware that Taehyung has these kinds of dreams. Jeongguk, Taehyung learns, can prove that habits, in fact don’t die hard. or the au where taehyung’s dreams become reality and jeongguk accidentally stops them from becoming a reality until one day he doesn’t that nobody honestly asked for

He remembers this. He learned the difference between deja vu and his dreams when he sees them, or dreams about them, rather. Taehyung would like to think it just happened and not some kind of accident where he hit his head and suddenly he happens to dream about things that eventually becomes real or some asteroid shit he stumbled upon when he was thirteen suddenly gave him his supposed talent. He noticed the pattern when his dreams become real, and he admits quite a handful cant be that pretty. He also learns how to use them to his advantage.

Like that one time he had a dream where his boyfriend in twelfth grade had dumped him. He had four days to prepare himself from the classic ‘it’s not working out’. Or that one time he saw Jimin getting into a compromising situation, prompting his best friend to be careful if he won’t let Taehyung stop him from going to that one club.

And this, he remembers. A dream he once had involves him performing in a theater, a full house at that. He remembers it being a musical. He also remembers the reason why he ended up as a performer is this. He also remembers the most memorable part of his dream - he was apparently romantically involved with the other lead actor who plays the role of the other half of his character.

However, this he does not remember. He does not get along with the said co-actor.

“He’s still salty not getting my role, hyung.” He grumbles for the second time when his Namjoon hyung insists the said co-actor was probably pining for him, because who the fuck goes behind your back and bad mouths about you to the director? Surely not someone who likes you, and your supposed other half as his dream told him. He feels quite betrayed that his dream did not tell him about the said asshole, or maybe he does not remember at all.

Taehyung eyes the milk he badly wants to have, weighing the pros and cons of having it the morning he needs to leave for the call time of his show that day and the consequence of being lactose intolerant before he runs up to his room to grab his bag. He reminds Namjoon of the tickets he reserved for them and that he put them inside his bag already because, hyung if you lose them I will strangle you with the curtains, and leaves his apartment.

Taehyung’s favorite part of being a theater performer is the adreline rush behind the curtains that just closed, signaling the end of the performance. It was a good mess, people congratulating each other, talks of the next performance, and the food. Taehyung was in the middle of texting his friends to wait for him in the lobby so they can all walk to dinner when Director Kang knocks on his dressing room, with people towing behind.

“Kim Taehyung, playing one of the main roles.” Said the director who introduced him to the three people standing near the couch inside his dressing room. One of them was also a director, one he recognizes from the plays he may have seen in the past, the stage manager for this very play he just performed in and -

“Jeon Jeongguk. He was supposed to play the role of Cunnings.” There was a hint of regret in Director Kang’s voice and oh, honestly.

“Really? Why didn’t you?” Taehyung asks just because, why the fuck?

“Minor accident. I insisted on pushing through with rehearsals but recovery will take up half of it.” Jeongguk explains, noticing the inner turmoils inside Taehyung’s head. “Congratulations by the way.” He offers to which Taehyung gratefully accepts with sincere appreciation.

This, Taehyung doesn’t remember. He feels betrayed by his dream because honestly, not informing me of this important information? Life threatening.

Taehyung finds himself explaining what took place in his dressing room to his friends because, Jimin, I could have saved him.

“What are you gonna do? Stop the car? Take the hit? Push him behind you?” Namjoon snorts, followed by a horrible rendition of his infamous line “Why did you do it?” from one of his plays before where he was stabbed and died.

The Performing Arts Theatre has a small community, they would see each other again. Just wait, soulmate.

_______________________________________

They had met sooner than they think. It was at the audition of the next major play for the First Quarter of next year. Going through heaps of aspiring actors aiming to earn a role for the major play.

Taehyung had a dream about this. Which is why he came prepared in the form of his best clothes he only wears for his dates. Namjoon thinks he is being a flirt and straightforward, to which Seokjin adds gayforward, Namjoon. Taehyung is gay as fuck. Taehyung thinks he is smart and Namjoon is a little bitch.

Which is why, Taehyung sits at the table with the profiles of the actors in front of him and Jeongguk to his right, in his all black glory. They have shared glances and notes in the first half of the auditions and Jeongguk even got him a water bottle that Taehyung contemplates bringing home with him, because you gotta save the environment and all that shit yadda yadda.

Taehyung had a dream about this. Jeongguk sitting across from him at the sizzling plate diner 2 blocks away from the theatre. Jeongguk talks about the newly-opened diner that was on its soft-opening that he wanted to try, and Taehyung doesn’t wonder why the other members of the panel were not invited because he honestly couldn’t care. Not when Jeongguk has been laughing at him as he blame Jeongguk for leaving him to work with an asshole.

“I met him also. Was a bit smug he got the role instead of me.” He chides.

“He sucks. I just hope he wouldn’t be in the first quarter productions.” Said Taehyung.

“You said you had a minor accident? That’s why you didn’t get to play my other half.” Taehyung bites his burger, still guilt-tripping his future man (he damn will be, Jimin. Watch me).

“I fell funny during dance practice. Therapy kind of took a long time and its compromising with rehearsals. I told them I could do it. Doctor said I’m annoying as fuck.” And maybe Jeongguk made up the last part just to see Taehyung laugh.

Taehyung can’t remember if he had a dream about this. But he doesn’t care. Not when they had to go back to the theatre to be in the second half of the auditions. Not when Jeongguk walked him to his car and got his number. Not when Jeongguk hugged him before he left. Not when he bursted through his apartment and hit Jimin’s back with the door knob and got hit by the slippers because sue him. He’s met the love of his life (My Dream, 2014), he’s happy. Contented--

Jeongguk also ignores the way he doesn’t feel guilty that his packed lunch soiled inside his bag just to get lunch with Taehyung. He also ignores the way Director Kang was looking when he said he had to be somewhere for lunch and had to quickly leave with Taehyung without them knowing. He also ignores the script he needed to memorize just to construct the first message to Taehyung.

“Taehyung what if he’s being nice. You work together.” Jimin says with a pout. The one where he’s honestly just trying to ruin Taehyung’s fun.

“My dreams said otherwise. She also said fuck you Jimin.”

“You knew each other for only a week.” Namjoon adds, breaking Taehyung’s train of thoughts where he had already planned their wedding, their honeymoon in Malta, their first two children named Taehan and Jungmin.

“He’s probably already taken or straight.”

“You’re paying for my fucking drinks tomorrow or I’m stealing your m&m’s stash” Taehyung makes sure of the threat with the force of the pillow he threw aimed at Jimin’s dick.

—————————————————————

“What’s your star sign, Tae?”

“Capricorn. Why?”

“I can trust you. Good to know.” Also good to know we’re compatible, Jeongguk adds.

“And you, Jeonniboy? You act like you’re an Earth sign.”

“Virgo.”

“Ah, kinky.” Taehyung inappropriately comments, making the two of them laugh in the middle of Burger King.

“I’d like to defy stereotypes for us virgos and prove we’re fun. Would you grant me the honor of having a drink with you this Thursday?” Jeongguk inquires, raising an eyebrow, getting too close for Taehyung’s health.

“Is that where you bring your dates?”

“Yeah I get them drunk and dump their bodies behind the bar. Don’t tell anyone.”

“You’re killing the person who’s willing to dispatch a dead body for you?” Taehyung tries his best to sound hurt.

“We’ll if you bring bleach I’ll reconsider.”

“Cut up the bodies and I’ll bring the plastic bag.” Taehyung sounds serious, earning a strange look from the table beside them.

Thursday morning comes too quick but Jeongguk doesn’t mind. He may have prayed for it to come quick but no one questions him aside from Yoongi, who has been judging him for being awake before ten in the morning.

His phone lights up with a message from Taehyung, saying ‘Mind if I bring friends? You can say no, I can tie them up and hide the keys.’ to which he replies with ‘as long as I still have your attention. And because I’m competitive, I’ll also come bearing gifts.’

Fast forward to the night they see each other, respective friends in tow, the group quickly falls deep into conversation. Taehyung sits in the outer part of the booth, with the excuse of having low control for peeing, and Jeongguk excuses himself to the bathroom and comes back to a different seat, now parallel to Taehyung. The two have been in a competition on who can stay sober the longest without having to stop drinking, and Taehyung never failed to give his attention to Jeongguk.

Their current game is a staring contest, where nobody won because Jimin just had to ask-

“do you want a separate table?” Really loudly, gathering the attention of everyone at the table, and snickering.

“Jimin, eat.” Taehyung warns, shoving a big chunk of bulgogi inside Jimin’s mouth, Hoseok laughing really loudly at him.

Jeongguk looks to his left where Yoongi sits, eyeing him that’s almost teasing.

“Hyung, also want one?” Jeongguk threatens, pulling a tight smile, as he picks up a rather bigger chunk of bulgogi.

The night ended with Jeongguk walking Taehyung, helping him pull a very drunk Jimin to his car.

“Designated driver?” Jeongguk asks as Jimin hit his head on the door and Taehyung nods. “Want me to drive you?”

“It’s fine I can manage. You need rest.” Taehyung shrugs, opening the door to his side.

“Text me when you get home.” Said Jeongguk, who later on adds, “please” earning a chuckle from Taehyung.

“You too, please.” And Taehyung would like to think he had a dream about this, of Jeongguk diminishing the space between them to place a kiss on his cheek, and he knows he did not imagine it when his body tilted back a little because of the force. He helpes Taehyung get inside, watching him drive away, before walking back to his own car where Yoongi had been waiting for him, threatening to leave with his car.

—————————————————————

Taehyung and Jeongguk have been locked up in the latter’s apartment since the latter had called Taehyung to come help him practice his lines, and Taehyung agreed, will always agree to Jeongguk’s wishes. They had been throwing lines back and forth, Taehyung looking down at the slightly tattered script while forcing Jeongguk to drop scripts.

“Hyung, do you want brownies?” Jeongguk suddenly asks.

“That’s not a part of the script.” Taehyung replies and Jeongguk throws the softest pillow. “You bake?” He gapes.

“Hell no. It’s pre-mix.” Jeongguk yelps as he gets a slap on his thighs.

The two has long abandoned the script and made a bee line towards the kitchen, where Jeongguk has started mixing the butter with the brownie mix and Taehyung sits at the counter top for moral support. His best role.

“Taste.” Jeongguk has his point finger covered in the brownie mix near Taehyung’s lips and the latter tries not to jump the opportunity that quick. “Good?”

“Tasty.” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, earning a chuckle and a flush from Jeongguk.

Jeongguk assigns Taehyung the task of mixing the batter while he prepares the oven only to turn around and catches Taehyung dipping his finger on the brownie mix and what seems to be not the first time he’s been doing it. Taehyung has his fingers mid-way to his mouth newly-dipped, covered in brownie mix when Jeongguk gets a grip of his arm, halting his actions causing Taehyung to jolt.

“Traitor.” Jeongguk grumbles playfully, contradicting his first action by guiding Taehyung’s hand to his mouth. And Taehyung, who got a slightly horrible hand-eye coordination, missed his aim a little, a slight whip of the mix getting to his chin, making Jeongguk chuckle. Taehyung, with flushed cheeks and brownies on his chin, aims to wipe it off with his free hand, and Jeongguk with his fast reflex catches his other arm, causing him to practically back hug Taehyung.

“I’ll get it for you.” Jeongguk mumbles, leaning down to wipe the mix on Taehyung’s chin with his own lips, pausing for two seconds, before moving closer to the corner of Taehyung’s lips.

And Taehyung is glad he did not dream of this. Glad he knew he was gonna make a little mess of himself. Glad that Jeongguk was there to clean up for him. Glad of his own way of helping Taehyung. And suddenly, Taehyung has 20 ideas of ending the script he was trying to write.

The smell of the butter pre-heating in the oven pulled Jeongguk away and he’s glad. He wouldn’t know how to explain his actions to Taehyung. “Set up the console?” He asks Taehyung as he pulled away, putting a safe distance between them, before grabbing the brownie mix and turning to the oven.

Later that night, the two (unsurprisingly) are sitting too close to each other, with Jeongguk sitting behind Taehyung, who was sitting between his legs, in an intense game of the classic overwatch. Hoseok comes home and sees the two in a slightly out of context position before turning on his heels quite fast, with the excuse, oh shit, I left my wallet at Yoongi’s. Jeongguk ignores how the back pocket of the older is bulging with his said missing wallet. He doesn’t care. He’s contented.

That night, Taehyung left his apartment with packed brownies and a kiss more secured than the one they shared earlier in the kitchen and Taehyung goes home with a bounce in his steps, wallowing in happiness while munching the brownies, swatting Namjoon’s hand when he tried to sneak a small piece, claiming they are pot brownies.

That night, Taehyung dreams of a laid back date with Jeongguk, going to see a much-anticipated play that was half and an hour away from where they are and a dinner at that damn diner that was still on it’s soft-opening. Taehyung wakes up in the morning with a to-do list that includes preparing his outfit and a rehearsal to attend to. The following night, Taehyung’s dreams include Jeongguk bringing him donuts and milk tea for a working breakfast while the two sit in another auditions, and another intense game of fortnite in his apartment.

————————————————

Jeongguk, Taehyung learns, has a habit of cancelling plans. Plans that were predetermined by Taehyung’s dreams. In his defense, he was not aware that Taehyung has these kinds of dreams. Jeongguk, as Taehyung’s dream told him, had rightfully brought him his donuts and a milk tea. However, Jeongguk couldn’t attend the second half of the auditions, as he needed to oversee the technical dress rehearsal of the major play of a close friend directing the said play.

————————————————

Jeongguk, Taehyung learns, can prove that habits, in fact don’t die hard. The former had sent him a text that says I’m picking you up, is thirty minutes enough? to which he replied sure, before screaming and scrambling for his closet in panic. Taehyung sure is wearing the outfit he has prepared the morning after he had the dream where they had a date.

“Where are we going, good sir?” He asks Jeongguk who chuckles.

“Just somewhere.” He shrugs. And Taehyung knows. Knows what they’ll do, where they’re going.

The night happened just as it did in his dream. Turns out the play they have seen was the one Jeongguk was overseeing that one time they had to cancel their second date (as Taehyung’s dream called it). However, Taehyung’s dream purposely left out the part where Jeongguk has his hand wrapped around Taehyung’s the entire time. Or the random kiss he received in the middle of the play (Taehyung swore he cried because of the scene). It also left out the part where Jeongguk stayed the night in his apartment, Jimin and Namjoon caught in the act of munching over his brownies, the one he baked with the person sitting beside him, arms wrapped around him.

[end]

#armysource #bangtanhq #goldenclosetnet #taekook au #dtgloss #aus #taekook #vkook aus #kookv aus #dtgloss 1 #rkivepacks aus

4 notes · View notes

the-prophet-lemonade · 5 years

Note

do you have any advice on getting a story to be seen? i made an ao3 account not too long ago so no one has seen my fic at the moment but i was wondering if you had any tips on that, or would i just have to wait?

hello! i can’t claim to know what makes a fic popular as it’s 99% luck, but i can speak for the remaining 1% that has worked ~reasonably~ well for me in the past.

i think there are three key elements to getting a fic “seen”: marketing, branding, and presentation, and they’re all very important. this post got very long, so please find everything under the cut! i hope it helps :-)

i. marketing

fic marketing may seem a bit narcissistic if you haven’t done it before, but trust me on this: it’s the best way to attract readers and you deserve to promoted your story as something you worked hard upon!

drumming up hype for a fic is great. you can do this by posting on social media, providing sneak peaks on your twitter, involving yourself in the fandom community and discussing your wips with other fans, and just generally being excited about what you’re creating. engaging with other people’s writing is also a great method to help boost your own stats … get involved with reading other work and leaving comments for other people, because they will be more likely to return the favour! when someone comments on my fics, i often go and check out their profile and see what they’ve written, as it’s highly likely we enjoy the same things!

making promos is one of my favourite ways to engage with people about fics. once i post a fic/new chapter to ao3, i also crosspost promo posts with links and graphics to my twitter and tumblr. you will need a good hook to get people interested, but also an eye-catching image that summarises the story pictorially can be a great asset (you don’t even need photoshop, just a nice moodboard will do!). when using images however, it’s always important to think how the image size will appear in tumblr’s dimensions and on your own blog … make sure it’s not stretched or the resolution too low, and create something with a good visual flow i.e. the title appears first, then the necessary information, then any teasers or extracts. you need to make your fic post stand out on someone else’s timeline, which may already be filled with a bunch of other fic posts, jostling for attention. make it neat, clean, informative, and professional.

make sure to use the tagging systems efficiently for your chosen social media platforms: only the first five tags count on a tumblr post, so choose them wisely (i.e. use the key fandom tags first and save your personal blog tags for after), and only two hashtags count on twitter before it’s marked as spam, so go for the ship tag!

creating your own fic tag on twitter can also be fun, and i’ve seen a lot more people doing it lately too. you can encourage people to tweet along with a specialised hashtag and then you can find their reaction and engage with them later, which once again expands your fandom circle and will increase engagement on tweets associated with your fic.

another trick i’ve learned is utilising time zones and understanding the demographics of the audience you’re trying to reach. i am very careful to post my fics at certain times of day in order to reach key people e.g. i will try to hit either europeans or americans during the evening, as this is when most people are home from work and wanting to read fic. as a european myself, especially involved in fandoms with high levels of european fans, i usually post during the early evening for CET time zones i.e. 7 or 8 pm and i tend to find this works for me.

with tumblr, i often delay my promo posts so that i post when it’s likely to get maximum interaction (you can see when your blog is most active using your tumblr analytics) … use your queue if need be!

i also take care in reblogging/retweeting my promo posts at certain times of day too. i will usually bump the post just before i go to bed, so as to grab americans in their early evening, and then i will bump it again in the morning when i wake up, to catch australians and west coast americans still awake. i then usually keep bumping my promos once a day for two or three days on my social media to cast a wide enough net to catch as many people who might be interested, as not everyone checks their timeline every day and social media swallows up posts so quickly, especially tumblr which is not built for original content creators to do well (lol). i will usually bump a promo post 5 - 7 times before retiring it and this is a model that’s worked well for me in the past, especially for droplets, which would get 500+ notes per chapter! if you’re anxious about this, know that most people will only see your post once or twice because tumblr moves fast and swallows posts up very quickly, and sometimes people need reminders to read if they decide to save things for later when they have more time

ii. branding

the benefits of branding mainly come from experience, so it’s a tricky thing to utilise if you haven’t published fic before … but there are still tricks worth trying!

certain fic writers will attract readers to new fics just because their name is attached to it, and people know the sort of story they’re getting, they know how it’ll be written, the sort of tropes that will appear, that sort of thing. obviously, building up this sort of brand requires publishing a lot of work, and so it must be said that practice makes perfect: the more you write and publish, the more your fics will be seen and your audience will grow. people will regularly see your username in the tags on ao3 and be more inclined to click on you as someone who reliably produces good content. it’s important to remember that everyone starts from the same place and works hard to improve their craft; success doesn’t just come overnight (unless you’re in the right place at the right time) and any creator will tell you that compliments to their talent aren’t what matters, but instead, it’s compliments to their dedication and hard graft.

another key thing about branding is how you present yourself online. the most important thing in my opinion is cohesion across your social media platforms e.g. having the same username on ao3 as you do on tumblr/twitter/wherever you promote your fic. having an easily navigatable blog with working hyperlinks and archiving of your fic work is also great. basically, building a clean interface for people to engage with your work is vital! having the same icon and username across all your social media makes it so much easier for readers to navigate between your fics and your promo posts … basically, the easier you can spell something out, the better

branding is mostly to do with how you advertise yourself, rather than the particular fic, although much of it overlaps. get your name out there by engaging with other writers and making friends and appreciating their work! this is often the best way to get inspired, plus you get to meet some amazing people. i recommend trying out for zines and big bangs and writing challenges, as these are good ways to show your work to already-established audiences. also, make yourself available by interacting with commentors or by opening up your inbox on tumblr to anons. try linking your social media and your inbox as hyperlinks in the authors note of your fic

iii. presentation

this is really fundamental and is often the main reason people will close out of your fic and not read to the end. people want to read fics that are easy to digest and have had care put into them. this includes a lot of things:

correct tagging i.e. are the tags coherent and not just rambling? are there appropriate trigger warnings in place? have you unnecessarily tagged every side pairing under the sun, rather than just the main relationship?

grammar and spelling. goes without saying … people are more likely to read things that look professional and have had care poured into their preparation. make sure you know how to use speech punctuation. revise how to use commas. avoid epithets (especially racially-aggravated ones). get yourself a beta if you’re worried, because betas are godsends!

paragraphing. so many people will close out of a fic if it isn’t correctly spaced. double spaced paragraphs look best on ao3 and i often won’t read a fic if the paragraphs are too long because it hurts my eyes to read. make sure you’re starting new speakers in new paragraphs. new ideas deserve new paragraphs. basically, every time the “camera” changes, you should be starting a new paragraph. not just a new line.

summaries. i see so many fics on ao3 with summaries that are either apologising for being bad at summaries or apologising for a fic being bad/being a first fic, and like … stop this! own what you have written, no-one else will have written it the way you have and you should be proud of it. if you’re saying in your summary that it’s a bad fic, i’m not going to click on it as a reader. instead, utilise your summary to get people hooked … good hooks can be written a load of different ways, but the best ones i see often involved a snippet from the fic as a taster, and then a couple lines of blurb. get people excited!

titles: i’m personally more likely to click on a fic where the title is either (a) correctly capitalised or (b) is clearly chosen for its aesthetic or meaning (i love long lower case titles with parentheses lol). choosing a memorable title is really helpful, especially one that can be shortened or abbreviated for social media (e.g. for hashtags)!

all this being said, traffic on ao3 is a crytpid at best and obeys little in the way of rhyme or reason. you can put blood, sweat and tears into marketing your fic, but sometimes, just being in the right place at the right time (writing for the right niche) is what does it, so being a fic writer requires a lot of patience. first and foremost, write for yourself. write what you want to read and enjoy doing it, because if you get sucked into obsessively checking stats, it’s only going to disappoint when you don’t achieve what you want to achieve.

just keep persevering and keep writing and appreciating each and every person who takes time in interact with your fic and its promos … because ultimately, all it takes it that one reader to fall head over heels in love with your fic for everything to change. for now, just be proud of your work and keep writing!

#lucy replies #writing

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enidrhee · 5 years

Text

Something Wicked - Supernatural

request: none

pairing: Logan Winchester x big brother! Dean Winchester, Logan Winchester x big brother! Sam Winchester

other characters: John Winchester, Michael

based upon: season 1, episode 18

a/n: ooo another logan winchester fic!! i wrote this in less than a hour so if it’s rushed i apologize. also i get that the backstory in the beginning might be ooc for dean but i had to do it in order to make the story work. logan is 8, sam is 22, dean is 26. i don’t know what else to sayyyyy so if u have any questions or episode requests leave me an inbox message also follow me on ao3 at gayenid!! also i’d appreciate kind comments thank uuuu happy reading!!

——————————————————————————

A tough decision had to be made about how the Winchester siblings were going to approach killing the Shtriga, the shadow that struck in the night. Dean and Sam had explained to Logan that a mistake was made six years ago, and it was their fault the creature was still stirring the pot. The brothers were tired of obeying orders from their father and decided to grab food at the diner across the street from the motel they were staying at. Logan, who was two, was asleep and their dad would be gone for a few days, so being caught wasn’t in the picture. Dean, being eighteen at the time, was the instigator and Sam, who was fourteen, took his word.

Dean told Logan it was the worst call he ever made. When the pair came back to the motel room, the Shtriga was over top of Logan, feeding off her soul. The two of them froze, the sight in front of them was hard to handle. Luckily, John had entered the room and was able to strike the creature before it was too late. John was pretty much fuming, confused as to why his eighteen year old son, who had no problem with hunting before, froze. After a heated lecture, which the oldest Winchester took to heart, Dean vowed to never let Logan out of his sight again, which is why he couldn’t complete Sam’s request to take her to Bobby’s.

Now the same creature was lurking around the town and putting young children into comas. The next target was the son of the owner of the motel they were perched at. Dean thought using Michael, the target, as bait would be the best idea at killing the Shtriga once and for all. Sam, on the other hand, disagreed. He believed him or Dean should hide under the covers and wait it out. Logan had other ideas.

“I could do it. I can hide under the covers so Michael doesn’t have to be the bait,” Logan explained, her eyes still sparkling from crying over Dean’s story. Dean was quick to shake it head.

“Absolutely not, Lo. I told myself I would never put you in danger ever again. This is too close to home for me,” Dean admitted. The youngest Winchester wrapped her arms tightly around her brother’s torso, silently apologizing for the pain he was feeling. Dean ran a hand through his sister’s hair. Sam squeezed Logan’s shoulder.

“We’ll go talk to Michael. This has to happen tonight, no matter what,” Sam spoke. The siblings nodded and grabbed all necessary weapons before heading out the motel doors.

——————————————————————————

“You’re crazy! Just go away or I’m calling the cops,” Michael yelled with a phone in hand.

“You have to believe me, okay? This thing came through the window and attacked your brother. I’ve seen it. I know what it looks like because it attacked my sister once, too,” Dean explained, causing Michael to put the phone down.

“This thing... does it have a long, black robe?” Michael asked genuinely.

“You saw it last night, didn’t you?” Sam asked, even though he knew the answer.

“I thought I was having a nightmare,” Michael opened up. Logan related to his confusion of dream and reality. Her visions were getting stronger, and most of the time it felt real, but she was just sleeping. Her brother’s technically didn’t know that her visions pained her as bad as they did, but they didn’t need anymore worry on their plate.

“I’d give anything not to tell you this, but sometimes nightmares are real,” Dean commented, rubbing Logan’s back soothingly. Dean realized how big of a toll Logan’s nightmares had on her. She barely slept and was in a constant state of panic. It was no state to see an eight year old in.

“Why are you telling me?”

“We need your help. We can kill it. It’s what we do. But we can’t do it without you,” Dean pleaded. Dean explained that if Michael didn’t help, more kids were going to get hurt. It was safe to say that Michael was not up for the task.

——————————————————————————

As the siblings discussed a new plan, there was a knock at the door. Logan was praying that Michael changed his mind so they could save him. Sure enough, Michael was on the other side of the door.

“If you kill it, will Asher get better?” Michael directed towards Dean and Sam.

“Honestly, we don’t know,” Dean didn’t want to lie to the kid.

“You said you’re big brothers?” Dean and Sam nodded in response. “You’d take care of your sister? You’d do anything for her?”

“Yeah, we would,” Sam responded, looking back towards Logan who was on the bed with a grin on her face. After that, Michael agreed to help the siblings.

——————————————————————————

Later that night, the Winchesters were sat in Michael’s room setting up cameras and loading their weapons. Logan was actually allowed to handle a gun for this case, since they needed all the firepower they could get. Dean told Michael that all he needed to do was hide under his covers and wait, and when the siblings come in, he needed to crawl under the safety of his bed. Logan watched the two interact with a smile on her face. Even though Dean didn’t admit it, he was good with kids.

The clock struck three and nothing. Logan feared the Shtriga wasn’t going to strike tonight, and if it was, they were in the wrong place.

On cue, a shadow of a hand appeared outside the window. The siblings got their guns ready as they waited for the monster to get close enough to Michael. Logan’s hands shook as she gripped her weapon tightly.

“Now?” She asked, and Dean replied with not yet.

The Shtriga approached closer and closer until it was right over top of Michael. It began to feed, and that’s when Dean gave the green light. The siblings busted through the door with their guns at ready, distracting the creature so Michael could get to safety. Once they were in the clear, bullets flew and hit the Shtriga in the chest. They didn’t stop shooting until the monster was down. Dean and Sam slowly walked towards it, checking to see if it was really dead. Logan stayed back, checking to see if Michael was okay.

The Shtriga suddenly appeared in front of the brothers, throwing them into the wall. It threw Logan to the ground and pinned her against the floor. The youngest Winchester tried to fight it off and grab her gun, but it was too strong for an eight year old to fight. Its wrinkly hands grabbed Logan by the throat, dipping its head down in order to take the girl’s soul. Logan tried to scream out, but the Shtriga worked too fast.

“Hey!” Dean yelled out, grabbing its attention. It looked up and Dean shot his gun, knocking it off his sister. Logan gasped for air once it’s hand released from her neck. “You okay, bug?” Dean said with concern. Logan gave her brothers a thumbs up. Logan slowly got up from the floor with Sam’s help. Dean decided to empty his chamber into the Shtriga, causing Logan to jump from the sudden loudness.

The only thing Logan could think to do was give Dean a tight hug. Her eldest brother picked her up and rubbed circles into her back, leading Logan to give him a kiss on the cheek. Sam smiles at the sight, copying Dean’s actions after she’s set back on the ground. Logan wiped the tears that were stuck on Sam’s cheeks, causing him to laugh out loud. Their work was done.

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That morning, Michael’s mother came home to say that all the kids were out of comas at the hospital, and that they were going to make miraculous recoveries. Logan was enthused to hear that, knowing that all their hard work had paid off, and that Michael’s bravery saved his brother.

As the siblings walked to the Impala, Logan spoke up. “Sometimes I wish that...” She trailed off and Dean asked what she was talking about. “I wish I could have that kind of innocence,” She said in regards to Michael and his little brother.

“If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could, too,” Dean agreed. Logan had never seen him open up and be vulnerable like that.

It was a nice sight, and she hoped it would happen more often.

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