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revelinmagic · 1 year

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Sleepless Nights - the Bad Batch (Crosshair x Reader)

Pairings: Crosshair x FormerJedi!reader (romantic), Hunter x FormerJedi!reader (platonic) [gender-neutral reader]

Warnings: no smut, mentions of insomnia, fluff, first kiss, intense kissing tho (no use of y/n)

Summary: With your insomnia acting up again, you decide to take a late night walk to try and clear your head. Unknown to you, a certain clone who has trouble expressing his feelings follows you, worried for your safety. When you catch him following you, questions are asked and certain mutual feelings come to light...

Word count: 3,329

Authors note: so this is my first fic, hope y’all like it! It does have slow start but it speeds up fast. This story takes place outside of canon story. It exists in a universe where Crosshair came back to the batch after time spent with the Empire but before any of the events of season 2. (this is also cross posted on ao3 , but I did just start writing on there too so there is nothing other than this fic...yet)

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If the Marauder had to break down anywhere, you were glad it was this planet. The days were staying below too hot, but the night also did not get too cold. And you would know, seeing as your insomnia had gotten bad again over the past couple of weeks.

Sleep was constantly on your mind, and you could tell the Batch knew about it. Tech had “coincidently” started informing you on tips and tricks to sleep better, and had tried to pass it off as information he saw as beneficial for the entire team. Hunter was much better at being subtle, softly asking if you needed extra caf; he would also happen to forget to put you on the watch rotation recently. Echo and Wrecker were much more straightforward about their concern, with Echo offering his own extra pillows and blankets he kept to support his metal joints and keep him warmer while asleep, and Wrecker pushing Lula into your hands and announcing “She always helps me sleep!” Your squad truly cared about you.

Omega, too, had picked up on your habits after catching you awake far too late whilst she tried to sneak into the cockpit and scare Hunter (which, of course, never actually worked, though Hunter would sometimes pretend it did for Omega’s sake). Following Wrecker’s lead, she offered to share the stuffed Tooka doll with you.

The only person who had yet to comment on your nightly struggles was Crosshair.

Where the others cut you slack when you were sluggish in training, Crosshair would sneer and push you harder with his mildly cutting comments and sarcastic feedback on your abilities. You never fell behind in combat, though, the adrenaline always kicking you into focus and allowing your skills to shine through. And honestly, you know that is the only reason Hunter hasn’t sidelined you yet, or put you on permanent “Omega watch.”

And so here you were, yet again, lying awake while the rest of your squad slept soundly, or as soundly as possible with Wrecker’s snores snaking through the darkness.

Huffing to yourself, you twist again, trying to find a comfortable position in your bunk. A few more minutes pass with the same routine before you decide that it isn’t worth it to even try. Pulling on the sweatshirt and long pants from the foot of your bunk, you slip on boots as well, cause while the world outside was not cold, you didn’t want the air coming off the damp ground to give you a chill. Padding to the cockpit, you open the door to see the pilot’s seat swivel around, Hunter regarding you eyes containing the same worry they always seemed to have when he looked at you recently.

“Heard me coming?” You question, leaning against the door frame.

Hunter chuckles, crossing his arms before responding: “Heard you tossing and turning actually. Same as last night, and the night before.” You look down, not knowing what to say when he continues, “I suppose you are coming to let me know that you are going for a walk.”

He says it as a statement of fact, and it is. You had gotten into the habit of walking around at night under the guise of patrolling, though you were quite sure that at least Hunter knew that was bogus after you overheard a tense squabble between Crosshair and himself over the fact that you went out by yourself frequently. Crosshair had been saying how it was irresponsible of you to be wandering by yourself, and Hunter had chastised him for his comments.

You nod at Hunter, and he just sighs to himself before turning to unlock the ship’s doors, “Just make sure to stay alert. I know our scanners would have picked up on any threats, but take your blaster with you in case.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” And with that you make your way out of the cockpit, stopping by your bunk to grab your blaster before heading out the door, not noticing that the bunk across from yours was empty as well.

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He was laying on the roof of the Marauder when he felt the ship’s doors open and close. Sitting up to see who it was, it came as no surprise when Crosshair saw you step out from the shadows and into the moonlight. With his enhanced eyesight, you were more than just an outline, every detail of you perfectly clear as you took a deep breath of the night air before starting off into the night.

Crosshair was the only one besides Hunter that was fully aware of your nightly walks. The others had noticed your lack of sleep, but none of them seemed to notice the muddy shoes you hid under your bunk, none but Hunter and Crosshair himself.

While watching you walk away from the ship, Crosshair felt that familiar warm lurch in his chest that seemed to arise whenever he looked at you in the past couple of months.

When he had rejoined his brothers, he was surprised to see they had yet another addition besides his younger sister: you. Apparently you were a Jedi healer, trained not only in combat but also in how to use the force to close wounds and soothe minds. You had been rescued from slavers by the Batch, and since then you had stayed with them, becoming one of them and aiding on missions. Cid was also happy, as it had saved her money on supplies as well as the Batch needing less time between missions to inevitably heal back up.

Being the only one of the Batch that held no trepidation in interacting with him once he finally returned, you had since become stuck in his head. Well, interacting as much as he would allow. Crosshair kept his distance, not knowing how to act around you, and that space he kept between you only increased as feelings started to bloom from the seeds of kindness you showed him. And it didn’t hurt that you were one of the most stunning creatures he had ever seen.

So of course he was more worried than he let on about your inability to fall asleep. It distracted him when in action, feeling the need to check on you to make sure you had not fallen due to exhaustion or to simply make sure you were still there.

It was starting to get annoying. And so he of course worked through it the only way he knew how, with sarcasm and aggression masking his true emotions.

He pushed you in training in hopes the exhaustion would finally hit you and grant you at least a few hours of rest. He argued with Hunter about letting you on missions, trying to allow you time to yourself on the ship. Crosshair even convinced Hunter to take you off of watch duty, making the excuse that he would rather take your place himself than leave the safety of the team in the hands of someone who could not even figure out a way to sleep. And his heart had fallen when he turned to see you had heard what he said, not knowing he was trying to help you in the only ways he knew how. And by the gods, he wanted to help you.

As you disappeared into the sparse treeline, Crosshair decided that it did not do any harm to follow you, make sure you did not get into any trouble. Climbing down the side of the ship, Crosshair slung his rifle over his shoulder and followed you into the wood.

Moving quietly, he kept you in sight. He noticed your blaster and smiled to himself. That’s my girl.

Your movements were relaxed yet confident, he noticed, and he guessed it was not the first time you had taken this path specifically. But where were you going?

His question was answered a few moments later when a clearing suddenly appeared, boasting a small, still lake, a perfect mirror to the galaxies above it. Crosshair hid just within the trees as you moved towards the bank and sat down in the grass, pulling your knees to yourself as you gazed at the starry reflection before you.

He spent a few minutes like that, watching you watch the water. It wasn’t often he got to observe you outright like this, or for this long. He made sure to keep his glances short and excusable should he ever be caught by his brothers. But now, he noticed things about you that caused a thrill to run up his spine as he realized he was probably the only one to ever see you in such a relaxed state.

He saw the way the breeze gently riled your hair, how you seemed to sigh with the wind every time. He saw how you gently kneaded the wet ground, feeling the living force of each grass blade around you. He watched as you gently lifted tendrils of water with your mind, creating small spirals that would then cause ripples when they fell, your shoulders moving a bit in what Crosshair assumed was a light laugh.

Crosshair was so focused on you, on the minute details you were exhibiting, that he somehow failed to realize when you sensed a lifeforce you recognized.

“Are you going to come out and join me, Crosshair?”

His breath pushed out of his lungs in one swoop. How long had you known he was there? Did you know he had followed you? Could you sense his heart speed up at the sound of his name from your lips?

Crosshair silently took a deep breath before emerging to join you on the bank.

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You were internally cursing yourself for not realizing he was there sooner as Crosshair came to sit beside you. You blame your sleepless state as the culprit of your failure to stay alert. You had only sensed him when you reached out a bit further with the force to check the trees for any creatures, but there was no way you were going to let Crosshair know that, knowing he would not let it go that a Jedi had failed to notice a threat so close.

The two of you sat together, staring out across the lake you had discovered four nights ago. Glancing at your companion, he was staring at the ground, not likely to speak first, so you again broke the silence.

“So we both know what I am doing out here this late, question is why are you here?” you spoke each word particularly soft, not wanting to scare him off. In truth, your heart had skipped a beat when you recognized his energy. Excitement, nervousness, and heat had rushed through you. How long had he been watching you? Had he followed you? Did he come after you because he cared?

You hoped beyond all reason that he was here because he was worried, because he cared. Kriff, you wanted him to care. To feel something for you beyond the stiff formality of a co-worker’s relationship.

Ever since you had met him, you felt a pull towards the Marksman. You knew that as glad as the other members of the Batch were that he was back, they were just as wary to trust him again. But to you, you who could sense the battle raging in his head, he proved himself without having to say a word. His love for his brothers and Omega was palpable to you, and it had almost knocked the breath out of you when you sensed his determination to gain their trust, to earn back their faith and love (though, you knew they had never stopped loving him). Crosshair seemed surprised when you showed no animosity at his presence, and even more so when you went out of your way to try and befriend him.

That first meeting had been near 200 standard rotations ago, and at least for you, the want to be his friend had grown into something more. You wanted him. All of him; the dark, the light, and everything in between. And here he sat, mere inches away, where to touch him, all you would have to do is shift your weight the slightest bit in his direction. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want you. Why else would he have built so many walls between the two of you. Why else would he cut conversation short and turn away whenever you managed to start talking about anything real. Why else would he flinch when you had to touch his skin to heal him, and then leave without looking you in the eyes as he muttered a curt “thank you.”

All of this ran through your head as Crosshair didn’t answer your question. He just kept staring at the ground, playing with the grass you yourself had been grabbing at just moments ago.

Typical.

With a sigh, you went to push yourself off of the ground.

“I -” Crosshair started. Freezing, you don’t dare to move. Crosshair takes another breath, “I saw you leave the ship, so I made the decision to follow you. Is that a crime now?” His voice had switched from soft to standoffish, and you knew he was embarrassed to admit he had intentionally filled you out into the forest. That is when you felt it, his unease and… Crosshair was nervous?

Relaxing back onto the ground, you move the slightest bit closer, just brushing your ankle against his, and you hear his quick intake of breath at the contact.

Impossible… Did he actually feel the same?

It is now or never, you realize. This is the moment. You cannot keep living in a state of pining and confusion. You need to know, whatever the outcome. Either he wants you, or he will reject you, and you can start to move on.

“And why did you follow me?” You speak softly, the same way you would speak to a beast prepared to run.

His leg keeps bouncing as he formulates an answer in his head, so you decide to be bold.

Placing a hand on his knee, you lean into his line of sight, “Cross?” Crosshair goes still at the contact and shortened version of his name, gaze switching between your face and your hand on his leg. He makes no attempt to move. He decides on your face, eyes wide guarded but laced with…hope. He looks hopeful. You push again.

“Were you worried about me, Cross?”

Wordlessly he nods, swallowing hard as he can feel something shifting in the air. And he too knows that this is it. This is the moment that will define your relationship for better or worse.

Moving closer again, you raise your hand to cup his cheek, giving him every opportunity to grab it. To tell you to stop. To get up and laugh at you. But he doesn't.

Crosshair can scarcely breathe as your hand meets his face, a shudder running through him as your thumb slowly traces the bottom of his tattoo and his eyes close. The force around you shimmers with tension and warmth, and without even trying to can feel your energies reaching out to each other, begging to unite.

Just one more push, you think to yourself as you brace on the edge of something new and inevitable. And you pray to the force that you have not misread this entire situation.

“Do you care for me as violently as I care for you?” The words are a whisper against Corsshair’s ear, you being closer than even he realized. Though they may as well have been a gunshot the way they tore through him.

Eyes shooting open, his hand grasps the wrist of the hand touching his face. Chest rapidly rising and falling Crosshair studies your face: searching, reading, hoping. You hold your breath as you stay still as possible, all of your cards on the table as you wait for him.

After what feels like a lifetime, Crosshair’s eyes focus on yours. And whatever he was looking for across the rest of you, he must have found it in your gaze because just as your heart starts to fall, one word is muttered from his lips: “Yes.”

You don’t know who moves first, but you also don’t care. The force explodes in and around you as his mouth finds yours. His lips come crashing onto yours with a passion that can only be found in a person who has longed for what they now possess.

Pulling on your wrist, he drags you onto his lap, your legs straddling his thighs and waist. You hear Crosshair gasp your name as a whimper escapes the stoic clone. His hands then find the back of your neck and your waist as your hands come to run through this coarse silver hair that has grown long enough to grab onto. Tugging slightly elicited a groan from the Marksman, and you take the opportunity to swipe your tongue into his mouth for just a moment before retracting it.

Growling, Crosshair flips your positions, pinning you beneath him and taking a moment to meet your shocked face with a smirk of his own before he takes advantage of your open mouth with his own tongue, eliciting a moan from both of you. His hands travel to your hips while you dig your nails into each of his biceps, earning you another growl.

You let out a whine as his lips leave yours, only to gasp as Crosshair begins lavishing your neck. He kisses down your throat, only to lick up the same strip of skin. Finding the sensitive spot just below your ear he sucks slightly, pulling another moan from you that causes him to chuckle, his stubble scratching slightly against your earlobe. Kissing along your jaw, he dips his head to nip at the base of your neck, soothing each small bite with his tongue. Before long, you can’t take it anymore and pull his lips back onto yours.

After a few more seconds, you each have to pull away, gulping down air. Lifting your head to meet his eyes, a smile starts to form on your face, mirrored on Corsshair’s own. A giggle erupts from your chest as you lean your foreheads against one another. With a dry chuckle, Crosshair pulls away from you and stands, offering you his hand which you gladly take.

Once standing, Crosshair stares at you for a moment before speaking in that spine tingling voice of his, “In case that was not enough of an answer, mesh’la, I will reiterate.” He grins cheekily and you have to look down as you blush at the Mando'an pet name. That is when he takes his finger and raises your chin to him, making sure you are looking him in the eyes for the next thing he says.

“Yes, cyar'ika, I care about you. More than I can probably admit now or ever. I followed you because I was worried and because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be there for you. Because,” his voice drops an octave as he steps so that you are pressed together once again, “I want you, and everything that comes along with you.”

He presses a kiss to your lips, not as fiery and wanting as before, but instead filled with love, devotion, and promise. Pulling away to see that you fully understand what he is saying he watches as you nod, tears threatening to spill from your tired eyes.

Without another word, he reaches down and takes your hand, leading you back to the Marauder just as the first light of day begins to spread its fingers into the sky.

And if the others notice you snuggled up and sleeping soundly for the first time in weeks against Crosshair’s chest, or if they notice the sniper’s normally expressionless face set in a grin while asleep, no one says anything. Or at least not yet.

For now, they let you rest.

#bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #bad batch x reader #the bad batch crosshair #tbb x reader #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #star wars tbb #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch x reader

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anonofseasons · 8 months

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The reason the rest of Seasons went up is that I figured I'd better just do it before I lost all drive to share ever again and didn't at least complete Seasons for the remaining readers. It's the only thing I've written (outside of fandom) that has gotten much attention. It was nice, and I really appreciate that anyone would read it. But outside of that, I cannot get more than the tiniest handful of people to care about what I write, and it has been that way for years. It's discouraging, I'll be honest. My already-low confidence keeps taking beatings. I used to be more active with fandoms and posting fics, but one fandom/ship soured the experience for me. (Long story short, a lot of that ship's writers were bullied out by much more prominent writers. One of those popular writers mocked content from my fics in vaguetweets every time I posted, and I couldn't keep calling it a coincidence after a while.) I'd hear "you only write manbabies" (yeah more than once) and "you write too much of this" or be told my characterization wasn't realistic. But mostly? It just goes ignored. So I think, "I have to work harder and be better so people will be interested in reading it."

I don't know how other people manage to get word out about their writing. AO3 is great for sharing what I don't plan to publish/what can't be published, but what about what I do want published? I want to be a career author. And I struggle bc I'm dealing with problems that have a hand in worsening each other: financial struggles, living with my shitty parents, and bad health/disabilities. I need something in my life to work out for once. The pressure is on to be successful at something, but I just keep getting older and physically worse. My friend is willing to take me in when they find a place, we hope that's this year, but I can't live off of them, and I can't just sometimes cook and clean when I have spoons to make up for that. I need an income. I want writing to work out. But it just dies on my social media, with very few interactions, if any at all. I had a ton of stuff I wanted to finish for Seasons this month and into October to share with everyone in my excitement. But I'm losing my will to share anything. I only feel foolish when I try. Everything I do only proves my critics right, so it's embarrassing. Why even bother to try? It's been fourteen years of trying to get anything I write seen. I don't plan to stop writing btw, it's the sharing that's so difficult. I've been told countless times to write for myself when I express my despair, and guess what? That's good advice I've been taking this entire time! Who else could I be trying to please at this point? I have no one to please lmao, it's just me doing stuff I wanna do! The reaction to the ending of Seasons has me hesitant to give up on sharing, bc clearly lots of people connected to it in different ways, and that's wonderful. It makes me think sharing isn't so bad! But I just don't know if - at my age and health - if I can keep trying. I have two books I want to self-publish soon, and they feel like they'll just end up like everything else I post over at @mcalhenwrites - 6 notes and 5 of them are my reblogs! (And it's the same across all social media platforms - or it's even worse.) I'm really thankful that sharing Seasons gave me a taste of what it was like to connect with people through my writing, though. I don't think any of the people who commented or sent me asks realize how much it really helped me through this year, but it did. I started to have a little hope that maybe it wasn't a skill issue on my part, at least? ;A; And here's the thing: I don't really hate my writing all that much. I just fear it's got things wrong with it that I can't recognize, and that's what's putting potential readers off. I do believe my hard work shows, but hard work =/= good enough. My style is getting closer to the skill level I dreamed of having. I'm proud of my characters. But what's missing? I know that being a creator of any kind - even professional - is extremely tough, especially right now. I know this is a struggle for a lot of authors, artists, etc. :'( I just... I want to write as a career so I can keep doing more of it. I rarely have the spoons to keep up with anything. Writing is flexible. I love doing it! I just want to explain how I feel and what I'm dealing with, and why I'm so desperate. If you read this, know that it really helps creators to have our work recommended, boosted, etc. Authors matter as much as artists. I've been trying to train myself for the nth time to not be online and talk about my writing in any capacity. It hasn't worked before - I'm always too stupid to commit to giving up - but at what point in 14 years of complete failure with a side of humiliation does one just learn to give up? And to give some further insight into my thinking process: when I uploaded the remaining chapters, I put Seasons in my private collection (which holds 87 of my works out-of-bounds to anyone but me) so I could upload all the chapters without risking annoying my subscribers. Since 11 chapters in one night is a bit much, eh? :') Ugh, idk why tumblr won't let me edit anything or post long stuff. So I'm cutting this short I guess!

#this is a bit of a long post sorry

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eternalglitch · 2 years

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Hi there! First of all, I’m not kidding when I say lfls is one of the best stories I’ve had the pleasure to read in a looong time and I can’t thank you enough for sharing such a wonderfully written story :D

When I started reading the fic it had about 5k kudos and not many chapters were plagued with comments. Now there’s like more than a hundred comments in the latest chapters with 10k kudos and still growing. How does that feel? Does it get overwhelming? What kept you motivated when the numbers weren’t as high? I’m so curious to know how the growth in popularity has been on your part!

I’m also loving the lfls playlist. Have you heard Karma by AJR? Idk why but I feel like it goes really well with the story.

Hoping you’re having a great time in your day to day and once again thanks for sharing your work!

youtube

The numbers and statistics on every single one of my social media accounts don't feel real to me, I will be honest.

In 2017 I had another decently big fic (or so I thought), and I was (positively) overwhelmed by waking up to about 24 new comments the next morning when I posted a chapter and that was about it for that chapter's comment count. Now I get maybe 50 within the hour of posting and about ten new ones every day.

I think the first three months of writing lfls I had no concept of anyone really watching. Chapter two got maybe two comments within the week it was posted, but I was also studying abroad at the time and had plenty of things irl to keep myself busy with over in Singapore.

I never had an issue by the (lack of) numbers in the start, because I thought the fandom was too small in the first place to get numbers. I was just writing this for myself. In a fun reversal, sometimes it's harder to write with the bigger following because of stage fright for me. What if I make the wrong call on a plot twist? What if I leave an embarrassing typo that thousands of people will now see? These weren't issues when it felt like no one was watching. But if I get stuck in that mindset for too long, I simply vanish for a break. Make like Avatar Aang and go hibernate for, say, 6 months away from my fic. I've done it before, long enough that I forgot that there was anything to really be nervous about. That was back when this first started really snowballing in attention though, and I think I've grown a bit more used to it all.

Still, my friends make fun of me because my brain can't fully understand just HOW MANY people follow me. It feels like I have 50 followers, when this is not the reality. As a fanfic writer surrounded by very talented artist friends my entire life, I had grown used to the idea that on social media I would never really get a following and would just cheer my friends on for that. The usual script is that the artists get more attention on Tumblr and Twitter, and the writers get their time to shine on ao3 or fanfic.net, but not elsewhere. And I was totally okay with that! I am always very happy for my friends' success. Visual art gets consumed faster and is quicker to draw attention and that's that. But then suddenly this was not the case AT ALL for me. I made it as one of the exceptions. It's really nice to have this weird power to boost other people on social media and get their work seen and recognized in turn.

Because of this popularity, I'm also exposed to a lot more opinions about my work because usually people only find and talk about the fanfic that meets what they are looking for. Now that lfls has fully escaped containment and is in most Rise fandom areas, people that do not seek out or read angst are trying angst. My condolences to those poor souls, I would say my writing is not actually that dark to people that enjoy these tropes but it sure is quite the shocker (lol) if you're new to the scene. Or maybe I'm just terrible at judging how dark I write, I genuinely think some chapters are breathers and yet have seen jokes online that those are some of the most emotionally heart wrenching ones.

But yeah, getting fanart and comments every single day is SO GOOD for keeping up enthusiasm for a long fic. I dread the final chapter a little because it's been an awesome ride that I don't want to end. Excited to show everyone the rest of the fic too, though! And maybe some people will stick around for my next writing adventure.

I think the real crisis is I'm about to maybe even OVERTAKE in kudos one of the fics I really look up to and have aspired to write in that kind of quality for the past 6 years. Which sounds fake. That is FAKE, I haven't gotten my skills sharp enough to do that yet.

And yes I do know that song!! I can definitely see it for lfls. I found it with a Steven Universe amv a few years back.

Thank you for reading and enjoying my work in turn! :}

#glitch answers #and it feels full of it to talk about tbh AHAGJDKG #just know I am very greatful to everyone that helped get me here and still stunned so many people are willing to spend time on lfls art

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fireolin · 7 months

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Hi! How are you? I hope you're doing well.

I re-read The Wishing Hunt and I was amazed! You are really doing an incredible work! The fact that you're writing it on the go and depending on the votes to know how the plot may change is... wow! It's not easy, I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must be! When reading it on one go, it seems really well-planned. Truly, everything —the writing, the characterization, the relationship, the plot, the world-building, the so many winks to canon and more— is soooo but sooooo well done, and to think you started it a couple years ago!

I'm enjoying it a lot, and I'm so looking forward to read how the story develops. I just wanted to come by and tell you this, but I'll try to write a more detailed comment next time in ao3 (so many things to say). Thank you so much for writing such an engaging story!

Thank you so much for this incredibly kind comment. It's just so good to hear you enjoyed reading the entire thing again, and especially that it's all hanging together, lol. I won't lie, you're right that writing this isn't easy (but writing usually isn't for me, unless it's something quick and spontaneous). I'm tracking the plot events and emotional arcs through a spreadsheet with columns for each aspect, so I don't rely only on my memory. It's harder now because more of the plot is set in stone and drawing to resolutions rather than being open to spontaneous branching. (If I let it keep branching, it will never conclude - although it's the kind of story and world that could keep going if I wanted.)

I'm still loving the world and every chapter pulls me in as I write. My process takes a few passes, and by the end I feel I've 'discovered' that chapter, while at the start, sometimes I have no clue myself how it's going to work out, only faith that it will.

Even for characters that have smaller roles, I often need to sketch a back story so I can get to know them and write them in a way that works for me. A lot of that never makes it into the fic, but it adds to my sense of the world.

It means so much to know you're still enjoying this after two years, with my updates that are spread weeks apart. It's a labour of love for me, but I'm not sure how I'd keep going without the kind of encouragement you and others provide. It really makes a difference and motivates me, letting me know the effort is worthwhile.

Thank you again so very much for being kind enough to send this message!

#the wishing hunt #asks for me #truly it makes a huge difference #i hope you have a great day! you made mine :D

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breakaway71 · 6 months

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20 questions writer meme!

Tagged by @galauvant, thank you bb! Retrospectives like this always give me the best kind of nostalgia about my writing, and I could use that right now, in the middle of some heavy projects. <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 242

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 1,200,157

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently? Julie and the Phantoms, Back to the Future, and Stranger Things are the biggies. I also always include Supernatural, because one way or another it always drags me back in unexpectedly.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Say it Sweet (Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles, truth serum)

2. Give All My Secrets Away (Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, hurt/comfort, wing!fic but not in the way you expect)

3. All That's Best of Dark and Bright (Teen Wolf, Dere/Stiless, trans MTF Stiles and falling in love and rescues and ~feels)

4. Family Matters (Julie and the Phantoms, gen, Ray accidentally adopts the whole ghost band and Reggie in particular and some stuff happens, idk, lots of good dad stuff)

5. Ad Astra Per Tentaculum (Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles, space AU, Stiles is an alien. With tentacles.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try really hard, but often fail. Not because I don't appreciate my readers, I do, so much, but it often feels like social interaction in my brain, and some days, that's a lot harder than others. It really comes down to how many spoons I have. I have better luck with new fics, and even then, it's a real toss-up if I manage. *hides face in shame*

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oh. Hmm. I don't write a lot of angsty endings, honestly, but probably all those things i didn't say. Supernatural Dean & Sam gen fic, and it's. I mean, it's major character death, but in a weird way, and the ending...okay, yeah, it's a lot, but it was also meant to be hopeful?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Basically everything lol. No, really, I love me a happy ending, if I tried to pick, we'd be here all day. I guess one of my more recent(ish) ones I have a serious soft spot for is the 88 mph (take off, last stop) verse (Julie and the Phantoms band-as-family time travel gen fic) - the ending of the main story itself is pretty damn fluffy and happy, but the timestamps kind of add to the feeling. :)

8. Do you get hate on fics? I've been very lucky that in a couple solid decades of writing fanfiction, I've only ever gotten a small handful of negative comments. And maybe only one or two I would consider actually hateful.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Rarely, these days. I did so a lot more before I realized I was deeply ace. Sometimes I still indulge, but the mood of a story has to fit just right for me to go there. As for what kind, I mean, I've hit a lot of bullet points lol, but overall it tends to be more about ~emotions than the actual smut itself.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? CROSSOVERS ARE MY WHOLE ENTIRE JAM, seriously, I live for them, the crazier I can write and make work in a way that makes people screech about me using black magic, the happier I am. Probably the one I'd consider "craziest" in terms of HOW DID THESE TWO FANDOMS WORK TOGETHER THEY ABSOLUTELY HOULD NOT HAVE WORKED TOGETHER was Good Dreams, Sweet Prince - a Julie and the Phantoms/The Sandman crossover, canon-compliant to both universes, where Reggie is Dream's son. (It's also probably one of the crossovers I'm most proud of, honestly.)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not any I'm aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I've been asked many times, but it was never something I was comfortable with. There's a level of trust you have to have, not being able to be sure that a translation is true to the spirit of the fic, and it's a level of control I've never quite been able to give up. I feel bad about it, honestly, because I'd love more people to have access to my work. Maybe someday I'll get past my brain stuff about it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No(t yet)

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? This question is deeply unfair and I rebel, I have too many I love with every piece of my heart, too many I've never been able to give up even when my fandoms have shifted and changed. I can't even pick an all-time favorite just for Supernatural!

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? There are a lot of them, unfortunately, but I'll probably say my Julie and the Phantoms/Voltron Reggie/Keith crossover fic for sure. It was something I started at the height of my love for both fandoms, but the ideas got way too big for me at the time. Then I lost the fic notebook with most of my outlines and notes for it, and that was kind of the nail in the coffin.

16. What are your writing strengths? Overall, I think my ability to get into a character's head and really nail the characterization. (Which is not to say it's always perfectly true to canon - I've taken a lot of liberties with Reggie, for example, because the show didn't give us a lot to work with besides "comic relief". But I at least know when something I write is veering a little too far from canon to be believable anymore.)

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Action scenes, for sure. And plot. Most of my fics are just ~vibes where plot occasionally creeps in. Sometimes it works and comes together surprisingly well, sometimes it's just ~vibes right through the bitter end lol.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I will do so very sparingly, but it's not something I generally trust myself to do well.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Pokemon, although Harry Potter was the first fandom I ever finished anything for. (Sadly (or, well, not) none of those stories exist on the interwebs anymore, they were all on older sites/forums that either no longer exist or went through a few too many purges. I still have a few of them fics in theory, but they're on floppy or zip discs I can't access, and most were written in programs that don't exist anymore.)

20. Favorite fic you've written? Oh hell. My answer to this changes with the tide, honestly, but one of my most favorites is my Detention trilogy. Dean/Gabriel, student/teacher AU. I think a lot of people were scared to read it because, well, teacher/student (not to mention an unpopular ship), but I worked damn hard to balance a very fine line with that fic, and I was so proud of how it turned out.

Tagging @ladyeternal178, @bananakarenina, @zubenpics, and anyone else who sees this and wants to participate in the fun!

#writing meme

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glove23 · 2 years

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💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

💖 What made you start writing?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

💋: I think First Kiss fics are cute!! Sometimes they're just the thing I want :) There's a lot of awkward tenderness in writing them that's very fun to explore.

😈: hehehehe yeah. I have an entire Main Character Death series on AO3. Sometimes it's just fun to cause chaos and suffering

💖: Ooo, yeah. Back in like? 2010-2011ish on good ol fanfiction dot net, I was an avid commenter on various Percy Jackson fics, and after a while someone replied and asked me why I hadn't written any fic of my own yet. I don't remember who they are or if they're still around, but it is fully because of them that I started writing. The thought of writing my own fic hadn't even occurred to me before then, wasn't something I thought I could do. So I wrote some truly horrendous Percy Jackson fanfiction, and people supported me and helped me and encouraged me, and they all helped me become the writer I am today.

Truly, if not for commenting and the fanfiction community, I wouldn't have nearly 100 works on AO3 and who knows if I ever would've began writing at all. So thanks 🥰

✨: compliment my writing. okay.

my writing. i think I write good dialogue, and characters who feel and sound like themselves. my writing is simple but pretty

this one was harder to do than it should've been KDHAHSHA

thank uuu 🥰🥰

#rie #ask #fanfiction #how do u compliment ur own writing asking for a friend #what do i compliment #i can see all fhe issues how do i compliment that KDHSJDHSJ

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shardofhope-fanfic · 2 years

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Hi! i'm a big fan of you works in Ao3, im just wondering how do you write comedy that is so ridiculously funny but in context still kind of down to earth and logical?? You have like the best deadpan comedy i've seen in fiction yet. Also your dialouges, oh my god, i eat up your fic dialouges like its breakfast. They are so good. Like, how do you write the characters in a way that is out of character but still in character, you know what i mean?? I think its like an extention to their personality you are expanding. it sounds so real to the character but so ridiculous that it can really only work in that certain situation they are being scened in. okay, if you don't get what i mean (sorry explaining & describing isnt my strong suit) basically its, me love the way you write dialouges + comedy Okay fangirling aside, do you think you can share some tips on dialogues and comedy? i write as well, and i'd love to learn from the best.

Aw thank you a lot! It means the world to me that people appreciate my strange sense of humor! Believe it or not you're the second ask I have ever gotten on this little tumblr blog, so with that, I'm gonna give you all the little deets you desire, and perhaps more. Although I'm going to fight you and say I am not the best. I ain't no Terry prachet, but thank you for the compliment either way

As for the so far out of character it loops back around, that is something that's mildly intentional, in a strange sort of way. What I love about the Omori cast in general is that they have such strong, varied foundations to built upon, any situation you could throw at them would be plausible. It's something I've even taken into account with my own book (however thats still in progress, and will not see the light of day until its ready.). From that, you gain a lot of freedom to mess around! The key in my opinion, is to branch out juuuuust a bit father than you would think they could go, then yank it back. Its branching off from that foundation in a logical way, then exxagrateing it for a moment for comedic or serious effect. It allows you a lot more flexibility while not being too OCC.

As for tips on writing comedy, the first one I can give you is write what you find funny. I know thats lame duck as hell, but there is a kernal of truth in there. For you to write something hilarious, you have to be the person to find that hilarious first. Trust me, trying to write something someone else would find funny is just a awful time. Over time, you'll begin to get a grasp of your own comedic styleing, and those that find it funny will be attracted to you! But just focus on situations, plots, and jokes that make you giggle like a little goblin when you write them.

Accept that some people won't find you funny. It is a fact that just like music, comedy is very subjective. It's all a matter of taste, and some people will not vibe with it. Thats okay! Some people may not like the edge I sometimes have, and that's valid AF. Were all funky little organisms looking for a decent time. However that goes both ways too! I've had plenty of comments calling my stuff dumb, but such is life.

Let a story breathe sometimes! This is the one thing that I see people fuck up on the most, and I can understand why. When you're trying to be funny, the natural impulse is to stuff as much funny as you can into a story. This is a pitfall that can just cheapen the entire thing. Sometimes, a nice little bit of a breather between punchlines is all you need to make them hit all the harder. But to explane why, I need to make my next point.

CONTEXT IS KING. Let me repeat that, CONTEXT, IS, KING. If anything, above all else, consider the context of the funny thing you are trying to make. A lot of my humor works a well as it does because I build a context where it would be funny as hell. It's also how I get away with my more edgy work. For example, I thought homophobic Mari could be funny, but without the context of her being a lovable, gullible idiot who is prone to being influences (in this case by a redhead she found attractive) than it wouldn't be funny, it would just be punching down, or worse, blatantly homophobic. Context can allow you to make something horrifically grim hilarious, and the other way around. Mastering the art of context is the real skill you need to master! It also helps every other kind of writeing, but in comedy it is the make or break.

Don't punch down. This one is p self explanatory, but it needs to be said.

To round out this mostly theory of comedy, let me give you some of my FAV tools I use in writing my comedies, as well as some literary quirks that make for amazing reading.

fortunately, (bad thing), Unfortunately(good thing that will lead to bad thing. fortunately (awful thing that will make everything end out better.0 The quick contradictions of these make for a fantastic tone, and one of my fav writeing tropes.

Treating something mundane as life or death, or treating something absurdly dangerous with no seriousness whatsoever (seen best in Mari's overly busy afterlife.)

Pointing out people's lies in the narration, or in the body and not the dialog.

There are probably more examples, but I can't think of them at the moment! Now, dialog is something that is a paradox. Its absurdly easy and flows like wine, Until it don't. So let me give you some general things that helped me up my game.

Separate your characters into paragraphs. No teo people should talk in the same paragraph. Not only dose it flow better, it allows people to always know whos talking when while keeping the he said she said stuff to a minimum.

Conclude with things other then a adverb for talking. Sure said, replied, mummered and the like are all good ways to conclude a sentence in a paragraph, or continue, but their not always needed. You can fill that pause with damn near anything! Actions, thoughts, the narrator talking mad shit, anything really. it helps vary up how Converstations feel!

Rapid fire sentences. I'm suprised people don't use them more! When only wto people are converseing, sometimes you can advance the conversations without putting any description between the sentences. Just alternate and let the sentences fly, like this.

"Person one" descriptive writeing. "Person one"

"Person two"

"Person one"

"Person two"

Its the best way to get to that one bit you really want too, and it can feel really snappy and good when done spareingly.

Lastly, most importently, and all that jazz, one simple fact. People do not speak in perfect grammer. The one thing that stories can get wrong about people, in general, is they speak out in these perfect little sentence. Having been a english speaker my entire life, this is horse shit. People talk with slang, blatantly wrong grammar, and weird phrasing all the time. To strip this all away can really strip the veneer off of them. It ain't a excuse to be too sloppy, but it is something to remember. Speaking in these perfect little sentences all the time can feel almost alien.

Well, thats all I can think of RN, off the top of my head. I'm not the best at giving advice, but hopefully this helps you along your journey! Don't hesitate to drop more asks if you have questions, it's what this tumblr is made for!

-Shard.

#a03 writer #writeing #writing advice

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt: NMJ gets caught in a time loop that makes him repeatedly relive the day Meng Yao leaves for Langya, until he realizes that it's a bad idea and stops him from going?

Time Loop - ao3

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn, mind already racing ahead to his tasks for the day: getting in some morning saber practice, working on a giant pile of sect business and even more giant pile of work related to the war, making time to write a letter scolding Nie Huaisang (for what, yet to be determined, but inevitable – if he didn’t, Nie Huaisang would complain of neglect), trying to find a replacement deputy (or seven) to do the work Meng Yao did now that he’d headed off to the Jin sect…

There was a lot to do, and even less time to do it in – and moping about it would only make it build up even more. Nie Mingjue sighed and swung his legs to the side, intending to get up and get started right away.

He stopped as soon as he saw the calendar on his desk.

It was the wrong date.

Now, there were two possible reasons for this. The first was, of course, that he’d simply forgotten to mark the day as completed on his calendar yesterday evening, even though that was generally the very last thing he did before bed and longstanding habit had trained him to have trouble falling asleep if he didn’t do it.

They said forgetfulness was one of the first signs of mental decline.

Easy enough to check, though.

He got up and walked to the tent door, cracking it open. “Hey, you,” Nie Mingjue said to one of the guards going by on patrol. “Where’s Meng Yao?”

“I believe at this hour, Viceroy Meng would be checking over the supplies,” the guard said. “Would you like me to call him?”

“Mm,” Nie Mingjue said, because that wasn’t definitive; the guard didn’t know for certain, and he might just be making an assumption based on past precedent. “What about Lan Xichen?”

“Sect Leader Lan hasn’t yet arrived – I believe he’s due in for later today, closer to noon. Did you want –”

“No, I don’t want anything,” Nie Mingjue said, deeply relieved to have identified that he had not, in fact, forgotten to fill out his calendar. “I’m stuck in a time loop.”

“…ah,” the guard said, looking taken aback – he must be new to Qinghe, like many of the cultivators in the army. Like Meng Yao, for that matter. “Is that…bad?”

“No, it’s fantastic. I’m going back to sleep. No one is to bother me all day.”

“But – Sect Leader Lan –”

“Meng Yao can host him,” Nie Mingjue decided. He’d write out Meng Yao’s recommendation letter, put a big red mark on the calendar right now just to make sure he didn’t forget, and go back to sleep for the entire day like he hadn’t done in what must be literal years. “Like I said: don’t bother me.”

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn. He looked at his calendar.

No big red mark.

“Fantastic,” he said, and went back to bed.

He slept for four days.

“Sect Leader Nie?” Meng Yao said, poking his head in. “Sect Leader Lan is – I’m sorry, are you painting?”

“I haven’t had time for it in ages,” Nie Mingjue said, scowling at the paper. “You know, I thought he was just trying to get out of practice, but actually Huaisang’s right. It really does require quite a lot of dexterity.”

Meng Yao opened his mouth, then closed it again.

After a few more moments, he asked, voice very cautious, “Are you painting a battlefield map?”

Nie Mingjue stopped, appalled. “Is that what it looks like?” he asked. “I was trying for a beaver. You know, the small furry swimming mammal from Xinjiang.”

“No, it looks like a beaver,” Meng Yao said, though now Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. “I just thought it might be some sort of – code. Maybe.”

Nie Mingjue conceded that this made sense, given what he was normally like. “No, no code,” he said. “Just a beaver. Thought it’d make for a funny fan painting to give to Huaisang.”

“I see,” Meng Yao said, and seemed to struggle internally for a moment.

“Is this about Xichen’s visit?” Nie Mingjue asked. “You can just show him around yourself if you like. I’ll see him tomorrow, should it ever come.”

“…right,” Meng Yao said. “I’ll – do that.”

“If you want a recommendation to leave to join the Jin sect, you can pick it up on the desk on your way out,” Nie Mingjue said, already turning back to his painting. “Have fun, good luck, kill Wen-dogs. The usual.”

Meng Yao didn’t say anything, just bowed. His expression was very strange.

Turned out that painting was a lot harder to accomplish when your supposed ‘friends’ kept trying to spring unwanted and unnecessary medical interventions on you.

Ugh.

Actually, that Song of Clarity shit from round 13 seemed really helpful? He’d have to look more into that.

Apparently, reading novels was even more concerning than painting.

What, like he wasn’t allowed to have hobbies? What else were time loops for if not to catch a break, damnit?

“Oh all right,” Nie Mingjue said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll fix the time loop.”

“You’d better,” Nie Huaisang said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “What in the world did you do to freak them out at the crack of dawn such that they flew all the way to get me and back before it reset?”

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “Nothing.”

“Did it involve sex?”

“No comment.”

“Did you forget that they’d reset when you woke up?”

“No comment.”

“Just fix the damn time loop, da-ge.”

“That sounds like someone who is not getting a beaver fan.”

“…beaver? Fan? For me? Wait, did you paint it? Da-ge! I want it! No, don’t go to sleep, I want to keep -”

“Please sit down,” Nie Mingjue said to Lan Xichen and Meng Yao. “I’m going to need your help on a strategic question of great importance.”

“Anything we can do to help, of course,” Lan Xichen said, and Meng Yao nodded.

“I’m always at your service, Sect Leader,” he said.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said. “Now – what do you know about time loops?”

It took about five days, but he finally managed to figure out how to word the explanation so that it only took as long as a cup of tea to explain and got them to believe him without immediately deciding that he was insane. At that point, they were able to finally start seriously brainstorming solutions.

“We just need to figure out what it is that went wrong and fix it?” Meng Yao asked, sounding dubious. “What is considered ‘wrong’ in this context?”

“Things resulting in massive amounts of death, usually? Sometimes your own.” Nie Mingjue shrugged. “It’s a matter of fate, a natural opportunity to avert disaster; you only encounter one when you’re very lucky. Otherwise do you think my father would’ve died the way he did?”

“…an excellent point,” Lan Xichen said, grimacing. “Very well, let’s make a list of all the things you did, play out the possible consequences to see which ones could potentially result in disaster, and then you can try to change them one at a time.”

“Worth a shot,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Good morning, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao said, saluting. “What do you need me for this early? Sect Leader Lan has not yet arrived.”

“I need to talk to you about your future,” Nie Mingjue said. “And what you hope to get out of it.”

Meng Yao straightened his back and blinked owlishly, looking wary. “What do you mean, Sect Leader?”

“You want to go rejoin the Jin sect, don’t you? To earn a position with your father?”

Meng Yao blanched. “Sect Leader –”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable ambition to have,” Nie Mingjue assured him. “Unfortunately, I don’t think a letter of recommendation from me will cut it. I’m too young, and one of his rivals; Jin Guangshan doesn’t give me face – and what will you do if he sidelines you and puts you under someone awful to suppress all your achievements? Wouldn’t it be as good as throwing away your life, ruining your best chance for success?”

Meng Yao frowned. Nie Mingjue was pleased to see it was having an impact: he’d consulted Meng Yao the day before on precisely what wording to use, since his own versions were having no luck.

“I have no objection to your ultimate goal,” Nie Mingjue said. “But we’re going to need to be a bit more clever about it. When Xichen gets here, we’ll put our heads together and think about what we can do to make it impossible for your father to reject you. How does that sound?”

Meng Yao swallowed. “Thank you, Sect Leader,” he said, his voice low and sounding, if anything, a little touched. “I – appreciate it.”

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said, and put a red mark on his calendar. “Also, there’s another issue to discuss involving yourself and Xichen –”

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn. He looked at his calendar.

There was a big red mark.

“Oh good,” he said, and turned around and laid back down.

“What’s good?” Lan Xichen muttered into his collarbone. “Mmm, A-Jue, no, don’t lie down. It’s time to get up.”

“It is not,” Meng Yao said from the other side. “It’s time to sleep in.”

“Listen to Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said, settling his arms around him. “The world can wait a little more.”

“It really can’t, though,” Meng Yao said with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and starting to sit up, which was obviously the wrong move. “We’re in the middle of a war, and we all have important things to do today.”

“That’s true,” Nie Mingjue said, a little reluctantly. “I owe Huaisang a beaver.”

Meng Yao blinked.

Lan Xichen blinked.

“…it’s a long story.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #meng yao #lan xichen #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #time loop #silly

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

“All you have to do is ask.” Epilogue - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index

Summary: Oh, just a cheesy happy ending for our favorite couple.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Category: FLUFF. So much FLUFF.

Content Warning: Literally none, unless you’re allergy to sappy fluff.

A/N: I rewrote this chapter after I got a comment from someone on Ao3 that demanded the story not end this way. Sadly, not only am I the author, I’m also the petty weight world champion.

In all seriousness, I have never even attempted to write something this big before. AYHTDIA is almost 60k words and I’m incredibly proud of it. This has meant more to me than anything.

-- Epilogue - The End --

Time passed differently after I started loving Spencer Reid. Before him time always seemed to move in lurches, some moments taking a lifetime to pass and others speeding by too quickly. Now the moments without him seemed to drag on for an eternity, but the time I was with him never seemed like enough.

Not every moment of loving him was easy because it wasn't. We argued like any other couple...even if how we made up was a bit different. Sometimes I loved how he rambled about everything and nothing for hours on end, other times it drove me insane. Sometimes little remnants of the walls I'd had up for most of my adult life reared their ugly heads.

It had been six months since I jumped in front of a bullet to save the love of my life, and five months since I’d allowed him to love me.

What was miraculous was that I never doubted that he loved me. Sure, he said it every day, but his actions are what truly made me feel it. Spencer’s love was like a tangible thing to me; it was warm, safe, and something I don’t know how I survived so long without.

My boy still brought me iced coffees after a fight, or whenever I needed a pick me up. He’d watch cheesy rom coms with me after we had a hard case. And in the mornings right when he was waking up, he’d always reach for me, pulling me closer into his arms.

Part of loving Dr. Spencer Reid was accepting what a strange individual he was He never wore matching socks, he was obsessed with Halloween, he was always ready to perform some sort of magic trick, and he was also the smartest person in almost any room he was in.

One night I was lying beside my boy in his bed when he asked me an odd question. “Do you want kids?”

I turned my head towards him, blinking up at his face. “Right this second or in general?”

He poked me in my side, scowling at me. “Both.”

I chuckled. “I don’t think I want them right this exact second. But yeah, I’d like to have kids, I think. I guess it would depend on who the father of said kids would be,” I teased.

My boy didn’t respond in the way I thought he would. He flopped onto his back; his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“What is it, bug?” I moved closer to him. Propping my body up on my elbow, my head resting on my hand.

“Schizophrenia is genetic,” he said softly.

Ahh. I grabbed his hand in my own, bringing it up to my lips. “And you don’t want to pass the risk on?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if that’s responsible.”

I brushed a kiss over his knuckles. “Mental illness isn’t a death sentence, Spencer. Your mother could not have schizophrenia and your child still end up with it anyway. Life is a fucked-up game of chance, Doc.” I leaned closer, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Any rugrat would be lucky to have you for a dad. And if you don’t want to have a biological child, we can adopt.”

That caused my boy to smile. “We?”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Brat.”

I realized something was coming a few days after our conversation. It might have been how squirrely Spencer was every time I was near him. It might have been the smiles Derek Morgan kept shooting at me.

But, truthfully, it was the squealing Penelope Garcia did when she saw me on Thursday morning that gave it away.

Like I’ve always said, just because you know something is coming doesn’t mean you’re ready for it.

I knew what was going to happen the next day when Spencer suggested we cook dinner together at his apartment.

Doesn’t mean I was ready for it.

“You know, I think I knew you loved me the first night we made dinner together,” he said, his eyes lifting from the stove to meet mine.

I smirked. “Was it the spilling my darkest secrets to you or the fucking you that gave it away, Doc?”

He bumped my hip with his own. “Are you sure I’m the brat?”

“Absolutely.” I smiled up at him. “The chicken is about to burn, my love.”

We were sitting at the kitchen table after dinner when I just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Doc, you have got to relax,” I whined, letting out a big puff of air. “You’re gonna give yourself a stroke.”

“I’m relaxed!” He insisted despite his shoulders tensing even further. “And that’s not how strokes work.”

I shot him a withering look. Sure, Doc.

“Why wouldn’t I be relaxed?”

The look on my face didn’t change.

My boy heaved out a sigh. “You know, don’t you?”

I smiled, reaching out to tap the tip of his nose with the end of my finger. “I have a strong suspicion.”

“I could just be nervous to ask you to move in with me.”

I pretended to consider this, tapping my chin. “You could be. But, that’s very fixable.” I smiled at him, resting my chin in my palm. “Spence, I think we should move in together. We’re at each other’s apartments all the time anyway. Now, I prefer the coffee shop near my house, but I like your apartment better, it has more character.” I wrinkled my nose. “We will need a new headboard, though. Or different restraints.”

The love of my life just laughed softly. “Well,” he said softly. “I guess that clears that up.”

Had I ever really loved anything before this moment? Before I sat here at this table with this man? How had I ever thought I was in love with a person before I met this curly-haired force of nature? My beautiful, nervous, darling boy.

“Just ask me, Doc.” My voice was a whisper, tears pricking in the corners of my eyes.

Spencer let out a shaky breath and gave me a very self-deprecating smile. “You’re not supposed to know I have something to ask.”

I just laughed. “Hurry up or I’ll say no.”

His shoulders relaxed at my joke and it hit me then that he was actually nervous because he thought that I might say no. It’s not even possible, baby. Not even for a second.

“Y/n,” he began, both of his hands gripping my left. “I had this whole long rambling speech planned out. I wanted to describe the moment I knew I loved you, and the moment I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” Tears were starting to escape my eyes and run down my cheeks. “I had statistics on the current divorce rates, and I had arguments about how we were the exception,” he laughed, glancing down at my hand in his own. “But none of that matters now,” he whispered.

Spencer moved out of the chair he sat in to drop to one knee in front of me. I knew it was coming, but I still felt my heart stutter at the sight.

"Y/n y/l/n, you're the most amazing thing in the entire universe. I don't need data to confirm that. You make me feel warm and safe…you make me feel happier than I ever knew was possible. I…sometimes I've felt like I was trapped in darkness, but you shine so bright I'm not afraid anymore. The only thing I'm afraid of is losing you." He took a deep breath before reaching into his right pocket, pulling out a small black box. When he opened it, I saw an antique-looking ring nestled inside. "It was my mom's," he said. "I hope that's okay. But…y/n, will you marry me? Please?"

I felt something inside of my chest inflate. Like my heart was a balloon and his words had filled me with so much love that I was about to burst. I dropped out of my chair to join him on the floor, bringing my hands up to the sides of his face, my thumb brushing away a tear that was rolling down his cheek. I tried to open my mouth and respond. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, and how I wanted nothing more than to spend every moment of the rest of my life with him.

All I managed to get out was a choked sob while I frantically nodded my head.

Spencer’s smile only made me cry harder; and when he kissed me after he slid the ring on my finger, I couldn’t remember what it was like to feel broken anymore.

Series tag list: @abschaffer2 @liaabsurd @brokenanxiety @thisiscalmandits-dr @less-intelligent-spencerreid @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @cielo1984 @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @101donuts @heyitssarahk @creepingfromthecorners @fanfictionislifetho @annestine @boiled-onionrings @gublerspublers @dolanfivsosxox @lamusaeuterpe @publiusvirgilius @suzystuff @differentkettleoffishalltogether @georgiamae @thatsonezesty13 @addie5264 @hopefulfangirl24 @april-14-blog @whateverthefuckm8 @alissablake

Comment/message me if you’d like to be added.

Taglist for all my writing: @rachelxwayne @pinkdiamond1016 @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace @nanocoool @andiebeaword @imjusthereformggcontent

#Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid fluff #Criminal minds fluff #dr. Spencer reid #dr. Spencer Reid fluff #reid fluff #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y/n #ayhtdia

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not-poignant · 3 years

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Hi Pia!! I love your work and have consistently been reading it for over a couple of years, currently every TIP update u post makes my days a bit brighter 🥰

It is also thanks to you that I started posting fics last year after more than three years not doing so. While some of my fics have been wildly popular in a fandom some others don't seem to have landed as well within the same one, so I wanted to ask, what do you do about those stories that excite you but that don't seem to have found an audience yet, or that they never will?? How do you work through the fear of them not being worth your writing time?

Have a lovely day 💚🍀

Hi anon,

This is a hugely complicated question.

For a start, for writing that is for income, if I think it won't do well, I don't write it (although only to a point, I wrote The Gentle Wolf because asexual representation mattered more to me than sales, but it still hit hard when that turned out to be true). I don't like to mess with things that pay the bills. I hate that I have to look at metrics in that sense, but I do. But thankfully we're not talking about original fiction:

For fanfiction, things are different, and there might be a lot of different things going on.

For a start, almost always, when people ask me this question they are still getting some interaction on their fics, just not as much as they wanted or imagined. It can really help to like, remember to be grateful for every person who interacts, and not just the 'quantity' of interactions.

I think like... I am a big fan of 'write for yourself' but it's also true that I write for interaction on AO3. Just... only you can decide how much of the former will compensate for not much of the latter. There are people out there who are like 'if I was only writing for myself I'd keep it in my computer.' I'm not like that, and I don't vibe that way. I write for myself but enjoy sharing it, in case something that worked well for me, works well for a stranger. Everyone is different and that's eventually going to be what the crux of this post is, lol.

Popularity is influenced by the fact that some fandoms are more dead than others and lack interaction across the board in general (Persona 5, for example, is notorious for this). Some fandoms like certain tropes more than others. Some fandoms are massively popular for three weeks and then die almost immediately. And so on and so on.

Ultimately fandom is fickle, it's loyal to the stories they like more than the authors they like, and you can't predict what will be a flash in the pan and what won't be, and it doesn't always have anything to do with the quality of the fic itself or the tags you used. (This is sort of like how sketches will sometimes get tens of thousands of notes and a 300 hour single piece of quality art will get 400 notes, while a professional artist tears their hair out in pieces).

Sometimes, a fic will be more interesting to me than the reality of fandom interaction and I'll write it. Touching and Melting for Houseki no Kuni is a good example of that. A tiny fic for honestly an extremely quiet and tiny western fandom in terms of fic, which looks like it had a lot of interaction 3 years on, but had almost nothing in the first few months. And sometimes the fic idea won't be more interesting to me than the reality of the fandom interaction, and I won't write it. I go story idea by story idea.

But I've also taught myself to really think about a) the way I talk about interaction and b) to really value every individual that leaves a kudos, or comments, or public bookmarks. When I sort of started out with Shadows and Light, I remember being so bummed when a story didn't do as well, and thinking that meant it was doing 'badly.' Let's be real, Game Theory when it started out had less than a tenth of the interaction of SALverse, and I thought I had failed. If I'd given up at that point, well... all of this wouldn't exist.

And then just looking at fanfiction, it's like.. well, sometimes fics do a lot worse than other fics, there's usually at least one person who will read it and leave a kudos. I remind myself that to that person, the story mattered or meant something, which meant I didn't just write it for myself anymore, there is interaction.

This is much harder on stories that have zero comments, and zero kudos, obviously, no one likes to feel as though they are shouting into the void. But it's also my experience that writers who've had popular fics, don't often have 'zero kudos fics' when they say a fic is doing really badly. They just..maybe need to value the individual interactions alongside how good a 'mass' of interaction can feel, or alongside how good 'quantity' can feel. I do really think that's a skill that a lot of like...enthusiastic fanfiction writers have mastered or at least are learning.

Sometimes it really helps to have somewhere in private to vent to when you feel emotionally overloaded or insecure, and honestly sometimes it can help to re-evaluate.

For some people, writing fic when a certain threshold of interaction isn't reached, just isn't worth it. I can't convince people like that to keep writing. If there's a deep seated 'this isn't worth it' then stop doing it.

If there's 'this is insecurity and I'm not good at valuing everyone and I feel down right now but it'll pass' then...work quietly and patiently and compassionately on strengthening your resilience and your trust in your own writing, and your ability to value individuals who interact and engage on your fics. If you don't do this, you may end up bitter and resentful, and that can influence your entire relationship with fandom, and worse, the people who interact with your fics.

Also, finally:

How do you work through the fear of them not being worth your writing time?

In fanfiction, I do not base whether something is worth my writing time on the quantity of people who will interact with it. It is worth my writing time because I'm really excited to write it, and I want to share it, even if people don't respond immediately, or even if only one person ever comments.

I don't...have this fear that you have based on the things you're basing it on - my fears are different to yours. It's fanfiction. It's worth my writing time because I'm eager to write or fix or alter something in canon or I want to make the two boys fuck because no one else was going to, and because I can generally trust that one person out there will probably read it, even if I go back over 10 years ago and my Livejournal fics were only getting like one comment per chapter. If that.

If your metric for 'worthiness' is 'quantity of interaction' then - I'm the wrong person to talk to, I'm literally motivated to write fanfiction by completely different factors to you. I didn't start SAL knowing it would get popular, I thought people would hate me because I killed Jamie in the first chapter, and up until that point none of my fics had been popular.

I can't convince you on the things that convince me, when our foundational motivations are different. If you want quantity and that's what 'worth' means to you, I don't know what to tell you, I would never have written SAL in the first place if I hadn't been the kind of person to just write fanfic for almost no / or no interactions, and still enjoy that single person who said 'I really enjoyed this thank you for writing.' I didn't spring into being as someone who was writing fics that got a lot of interaction, that came...years later, y'know?

So what is worthy to me sounds like it's also just different to what is worthy to you. Ultimately, there are people only writing fanfiction on the basis of how many people interact with them, and...I don't know how those people keep choosing to write honestly, and I think a lot eventually abandon it, because there's no algorithm to crack in order to be successful every time. Maybe...remind yourself that you've had popular fics in the past and therefore you will again? And that you can't get to that point without less popular fics on the step ladder in the meantime? Therefore, even a fic that doesn't feel 'worth your time' will be a stepping stone to the one that is?

Imho, I think my fics are worth my time because I enjoy reading them once they're finished. And then I think they're worth my time because other people enjoy them. Having a popular fic is fun and nice, but honestly, often a fluke, and doesn't always say anything about the quality of the writing (some of the most popular Yuri! on Ice stories with 10,000+ kudos were like...not always...the most well-written stories, but people were desperate for Content, and it was certainly that).

But yeah, how I think about fanfiction is very different to how I think about 'fiction that has to earn an income.' Ultimately I don't want to apply the latter philosophies to the former, other people do. If you're applying 'this needs to hit a certain threshold of interaction to be worthy' as your basis for writing fanfiction, then...we have very very different motivations for creating content in fandom! And I'm the wrong person to ask.

As I said, it's complicated, lol.

#asks and answers #pia on writing #pia on fanfiction #people have different values they bring to writing fanfiction #i've seen folks just say 'it's not worth it' if they're not getting like a certain amount of kudos or comments #and idk #i don't relate to that #which i know is hard to believe now but like #i *literally started out*#posting fics on livejournal and on livejournal communities #thinking it was a small miracle if like #*a single person commented*#and that's what sustained me for years #if that would've made you quit #we're here for different reasons anon

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hood-ex · 4 years

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Can you give any pointers for fanfiction writing? It's something I've considered trying, but I've never done creative writing and it's a bit intimidating. I'm mostly interested in writing Nightwing, and maybe having other characters (Batfam and Titans) but still always having Dick as the center.

Welcome to Fanfiction 101! I’m here to keep you from making the same mistakes I’ve made in the past.

Pre-Writing Process

There are some people who enjoy outlining the shit out of their story, and then there are people like me who just kinda make the story up as they go. Whatever you decide to do, try to at least have an ending planned out. That way while you’re writing, you can start to craft the pieces you need to get to the ending you have imagined. You can even work backward and plan your story out from end to beginning.

For example, let’s say I want my ending to be Dick and Damian hugging in a hospital. Okay, what pieces do I need to get to that point? Well, if they’re in a hospital then one of them needs to be hurt. Who do I want to hurt? Let’s go with Dick because I want this story to show how much Damian cares about Dick.

Great. Now how does Damian find out that Dick is hurt/how does he save Dick? Let’s say Damian is in the cave when the batcomputer gets an alert from Nightwing’s suit. The alert shows that Dick’s vitals have gone haywire. Damian panics, tracks down Dick’s location, and then both him and Alfie take the flying batmobile to save Dick. They find Dick and take him to the hospital.

Cool but how does Dick get hurt in the first place? Hmm, well, Dick usually always rides a motorcycle, right? So let’s say Dick gets into a motorcycle accident. How does he crash his bike? Maybe it’s because of the weather or because a baddie crashes into him. I don’t want to write a huge action scene so let’s say Dick accidentally drives over black ice, spins out, and crashes in a ditch.

And there you have it. A whole story right there from end to beginning. You can plan things out in a more detailed way before you jump in and write if you want. A basic outline like that ^ is usually enough for me to go off of. The details just come to me while I’m in the process of writing. Try and see what works best for you.

One-Shots vs. Multi-Chapter Stories

If you haven’t done a lot of creative writing, I would suggest you start off by practicing with one-shots. Now, one-shots can be shorter content, but on the flip side, there’s also one-shots that are like 50k words. Totally depends on what the author is willing to put into it in terms of plot, description, character development, etc.

I personally have a hard time finding the motivation to finish multi-chapter stories, which is why I usually stick to one-shots. Short one-shots can be easier because they don’t have to be super fleshed out. The action is quick, the dialogue is impactful, and the scene is memorable.

You can also just jump into the action when it comes to one-shots. You don’t have to do as much build-up. For example, I could jump right into a scene of Dick having trouble breathing like this:

Dick’s having a hard time making sense of things. Vaguely, he can hear Bruce shouting for Alfred. He can feel hands on him. His vision is going in and out. Then, suddenly, there’s silence. Dick wakes up, confused. Tim is sitting at his bedside, holding his hand. Bruce is close by, and when he realizes Dick is awake, he immediately goes over to him. Bruce explains that Dick had a bad reaction to a drug he was injected with. Bruce cards his hand through Dick’s hair to comfort him, and Dick reflects on when Bruce used to do the same thing when Dick was a kid.

End scene.

Okay, so, obviously a real story would have way more description than that, but you get what I’m saying, yeah? That whole scene could be the entire story and it would be enough. But if you have the motivation to do way more than that with a ton of character development and what not, you totally could prolong that one-shot into 50k words. Or just break everything up into a multi-chapter fic.

The problem with writing one chapter at a time for a multi-chapter fic is that it’s hard to keep the motivation to keep writing each chapter. You write one chapter and then put the story to the side for a few days, and suddenly, you keep making excuses about why you don’t want to write the next chapter. To be fair, this can also happen with a basic one-shot, but yeah, tis the life of a writer. Don’t be discouraged if it happens to you. Trust me, it will at some point.

Character POV

Listen, I love writing in first person. In other fandoms, I used to write a lot of my stories in first person POV. I’ve got some bad news for you, though. Generally, people don’t like to read fanfics that are in first person POV. They just don’t. Nowadays, even I tend to skip over stories that are written in first person POV.

Third person POV is going to be your best friend. Get comfortable writing it.

Admittedly, sometimes it’s easier for me to grasp a character’s voice if I first write the story in first person POV. I then go back and change all the “I’s” and “me’s” to he, his, her, hers, etc. That’s just a little trick I do sometimes if I’m having a hard time getting a story started.

Characterization

If you’re not 100% sure how to write a specific character, try and figure out a few facts about them. Like if you want to write Dick then think about some key qualities of his. Sprinkle those traits throughout the story to make the character sound more authentic.

For example, I know Dick doesn’t like cucumber sandwiches. Sometimes I’ll have him or other characters mention this in the story. I also know Dick can struggle with perfectionism. I can make that something he has to struggle with in the story. It doesn’t have to be what the whole story revolves around, but if I just throw in some things here and there about how Dick is mad at himself for failing about something then that makes him feel more in character.

Character Interactions

At first, writing multiple characters interacting at once can be really difficult. It can fuck up the pacing of your story, it can be hard to insert each character enough to make sure they aren’t ignored, and it can be hard to make sure each character is getting a chance to speak.

If you find yourself struggling with this, try and just stick to two characters at first. Once you’re comfortable writing a conversation between them, try adding in another character. And another. And another.

The more you practice, the more you’ll be able to write multiple characters interacting in a scene in a way that feels more natural and realistic.

Genres and Tropes

When it comes to figuring out what you want to write about, you need to know what kind of content your audience wants. For example, fantasy niches (fairies, vampires, etc.) can be harder to “sell” in this particular fandom. There are people like myself who enjoy those niches, but just know that they may not be the most popular niches within this specific fandom.

What are some niches that the majority of fandoms do like? Hurt/comfort, sick fics, whump, fluff. Those kinds of fics are always in demand. People love it when their favs get hurt. People love it when other characters worry about their favs. People love it when their favs get hurt while protecting others. People love it when their favs are getting along and being affectionate with one another.

Go on AO3 and sort the fics in this fandom by “most comments” or “most kudos.” Now look at the most popular fics that come up and look at the tags they use. See what kinds of things those authors are writing about. Read their summaries and try to get an idea of what the stories are about.

Once you get an idea of which kind of genres and tropes are most popular, try and write a story that includes those genres/tropes. People will be more likely to read stories that have tropes they usually like to read about.

Now, of course, you can also just write whatever the hell you want without trying to appeal to your audience. This is what I do a lot of the time. Turns out that the things I like to write about tend to fall more in line with the tropes that are already popular in this fandom.

Spelling and Grammar

People really hate to read stories that have tons and tons of spelling and grammar mistakes. Make sure before you post anything, you put your story in Word or Grammarly (I use the free version) to check for spelling, grammar, and punctuation mistakes. Trust me, your readers will thank you for it.

Practice, Practice, Practice

I’ve been writing creative stories since I was 11 years old. The stories I wrote back then are absolutely shit compared to the stories I write now. So please don’t get discouraged if you write a story and you don’t feel like it’s very good.

Keep trying! Just like with anything else, the more you do it, the better you’ll be at it. There are so many things you’ll learn as you continue to write. Seriously, just recently, I realized I wasn’t always putting a comma in my compound sentences to break up the independent clauses. But hey, hey, now I know.

Pacing, characterization, and plot are also things that will improve the more you write. Writing drabbles (stories with maybe just a few hundred words) will help with this. It will help you learn to choose the most important scene or dialogue and write it in an impactful, emotional, and compelling way.

Okay, class is dismissed! If you have any other questions then feel free to send me another ask!

#writing #writing advice #fanfics #batfam

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elduwrites · 3 years

Text

Reminders That I Love You - Chapter 3

“Don’t be a brat.” Cas tugged his hair again. It was harder this time and lasted until a small moan escaped Dean’s lips. Then the contact was gone. Damn. He usually had more control than that. But they had been very busy, and angry with each other, lately. This was a welcome change of pace.

“Anyway, I believe in you.” Cas grinned. “Now be quiet, I need to concentrate on my work.”

Also available on AO3

Word count: 4916 (story total: 7603)

Chapter 3/3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

When Cas returned, Dean laid naked in the middle of the bed, legs spread and hands beneath his head. He grinned up at his boyfriend who stopped in the doorway for a while, just starring at him.

“See something you like?” Dean asked, letting his tongue dart over his bottom lip for good measure.

“Yes, you’re very beautiful Dean,” Cas replied matter-of-factly. Then he walked closer, keeping his eyes plastered to the man on the bed the entire time. “And you’re being very good for me.”

“Not like you asked me to do anything complicated.” Dean looked away, lightly biting his lip. He wanted to be good, especially after the evening they had, but he had to earn it.

“The complexity of the task does not dictate how pleased I am when you succeed,” Cas said sternly as he sat down on the bed, leaning over the other man. “Some days I want you to prove just how good you can be for me. Today is not about that. For now, I want to remind you how wonderful you always are to me Dean. Even when you don’t see your own worth.”

“What if I want, or need, to prove that I can be good for you?” His voice was small even to his own ears, but it needed to be said.

“Then that’s for another day.”

“But-”

“No,” Cas said firmly. “On Saturday I will have you collared on your knees with my cock in your mouth while I research my next paper, but I have a different plan for tonight. Are you going to be a brat and question my decisions, or will you be still and obedient like my good boy ought to?”

Dean swallowed hard, but kept his lips closed. Saturday could not come soon enough. But Cas knew what he needed, and what he could take. If he said that this wasn’t the day for proper play, then he was right. Of course he was. Dean looked up, meeting the others gaze and held it until his boyfriend smiled.

“Good,” Cas said. He ran one hand through Dean’s hair, tugging slightly before letting go. Dean leaned into the touch, whimpering slightly as it disappeared. “Remember these?” Cas pulled a bunch of pens out of his pocket. Except, these weren’t normal pens. They were the temporary tattoo markers they had bought for when Claire was desperate to draw on them. Cas had insisted that they were better for their skin than regular pens, and their niece was overjoyed with the vibrant colors that were much easier to cover their arms with.

“I remember,” Dean replied. How could he not? The guys at work always commented on his wonderful new tattoos whenever Claire had spent an artistic weekend at their place. They were rather hard to wash off too. Not that he really minded that part, it was usually a nice reminder of a good family weekend.

“I presumed you would. Now you’re going to lay back, relax, and stay as still as possible, while I cover your skin in all the reasons I love you.”

“Kinda hard both to relax and stay still,” Dean said. Mostly just to say something back to that declaration.

“Anyway, I believe in you.” Cas grinned. “Now be quiet, I need to concentrate on my work.”

Dean took a few deep breaths, relaxing into the mattress as well as he could. Meanwhile, his boyfriend’s big hands ran down his chest, barely grazing his nipples, down his stomach and up his sides. He whimpered again, pushing up into the touch. Why had he denied himself this closeness for so long? Those hands on him were better than almost any sensations. Perhaps except for those fingers in him.

“So beautiful,” Cas said, leaving a small kiss slightly under his left nipple. It was followed by the familiar sensation of the marker on Dean’s skin. Familiar, but still different than when their niece was ‘making him pretty’ as she liked to call it. Cas’ hand seemed surer and less hesitant than Claire often was. And the skin of his sides and stomach was more sensitive than his arms and calves, which were usually the body parts decorated. As the pen stopped its motion, Dean looked down his body. Sure enough, the word beautiful was written in red over one of his ribs.

“Incredibly kind.” Cas left a kiss under the first word, then wrote with a new pen over that same spot. Soon the word kind shone out in orange letters.

“You’re so good with Claire, Madison and little Bobby. The best uncle and godfather anyone could wish for.” Another scribble over his skin. Dean focused on keeping his breathing even so as not to disrupt the others work. When he looked down again, amazing uncle, was written in bright yellow.

Another kiss, halfway down his side, then. “You’re so open and accepting of everyone who need it. I’ve never seen you judge anyone for anything other than being hateful assholes. And those people always deserve it.” The pen moved over his skin once more. As it stopped, Cas moved his hand to squeeze his hip lightly. Dean squinted at the newest word. It looked like it said accepting in deep green letters.

“Dude, are you making my stomach into a fucking rainbow?” Dean asked incredulously, while his boyfriend put down the green marker in favor of a blue one.

“Why are you surprised by this? I make everything into rainbows.” That much was true. After years of hiding his sexuality from overly religious parents, Cas had put all that repressed energy into buying and creating rainbow colored-everything. There were at least seven different flags, and far too many t-shirts. They had rainbow-colored throw pillows in many different designs, and a shower curtain decorated with a tree with rainbow leaves. There were rainbow coasters, cups, water bottles, and at least fifty different buttons and stickers. Everything Cas painted these days were either rainbow inspired, bees, flowers, or, somehow, all of the above. Dean had barely kept him from hanging up rainbow curtains in their living room. That shit was just tacky, and therefore banished to Cas’ office. The office that contained a stuffed rainbow unicorn next to the stuffed bee on top of the bookshelf. Not to mention the queer section of that bookshelf that had the books sorted by rainbow colors. So okay, this was not actually surprising. Still though…

“Don’t mean you have to make me into one.”

“Why does it bother you more that I’m writing in color that that I’m doing it in the first place? You seem to have your priorities mixed up sweetheart.”

“I dunno… It’s just real obvious is all.” That was a bad excuse. He was aware of that. It just felt different in all these colors than it would have otherwise. Even so, his boyfriend was right. It didn’t actually matter. So why’d it feel like a big deal?

“It’s not like anyone else is going to see you this way. Right Dean?”

“Of course not.” It was far too cold for him to go shirtless anywhere other than inside their house. And even during summer, he preferred to wear at least a t-shirt. Only Cas got to see him shirtless for long periods of time.

“Then why does it matter? I like you like this.”

“I dunno.” Dean looked away, biting lightly at his lip. It was hard to argue his point when he didn’t actually have any reasoning, and Cas was all cold logic. The rainbow thing wasn’t a problem either. Not really. He was just caught off guard was all. But there was no way he could admit that now.

“Do you know what I think?” Cas moved so his knees where on the other side of the other’s hips, rested his hands next to Dean’s head, and leant down so their faces were mere inches apart. “I think you’re trying to rile me up. I think you’re being difficult on purpose. This,” he ran his right hand down Dean’s side, stroking over the words, “doesn’t actually bother you. You’re just clinging to the only argument you could find because affectionate words make you uncomfortable. Perhaps you’re even angling for a punishment?”

Dean whimpered lightly at that. Trust his boyfriend to psychoanalyze him in a situation like this. As if they didn’t have better things to do than trying to get to the bottom of his issues. His fear of intimacy as both Cas and Charlie was so fond of calling it. This was not the time.

“Is that it Dean? Are you trying to make me be rough with you because that’s easier to deal with? Would you rather have me spank you till you’re a writhing mess or perhaps slap you hard enough that you’ll feel it for days?”

“Please.” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but his boyfriend seemed to have enough ideas of his own. As long as Cas gave him something.

“Too bad really, that I already told you we’re not doing that tonight.”

“Cas. Please.”

“I’m not changing my plans just because you’re being a brat,” Cas almost growled. “However, I can’t let that kind of behavior go completely unchecked either.”

“Please.” Dean repeated. By now it could be called pleading, almost begging. His boyfriend usually liked that, was more likely to fulfill his wishes when he asked nicely. But it didn’t seem like he was budging this time. His expression was blank, not betraying any of his thoughts. Would whatever he was planning be good or bad? Well, it was always good with Cas, but sometimes that also meant torturous. Then again, that was often the best of all.

Cas suddenly sat up until he was kneeling over him. Then he ran his hands slowly down the other’s shoulders and chest, stopping to pay extra attention to his nipples. Dean swallowed the groan that wanted to erupt as both his nipples were pinched hard.

“Don’t be quiet on my account,” Cas said, pinching even harder. Then he let go off the left one, only to bend down and bite it. Dean moaned, arching his back into the pleasure-pain sensation.

“There you go. Keep making those pretty sounds for me,” Cas grinned down at him before leaning in to capture his lips in a rough kiss. Dean quickly opened up for him, allowing his boyfriend to dominate his mouth completely. As the kiss broke off, Cas moved so sit next to him on the bed again, one hand resting comfortingly on his stomach. Dean put weight on his elbows, wanting to follow, but one sharp look from the other man made him rest back onto the bed. That earned him a soft smile and a gentle hand playing with his hair.

“Touch yourself for me,” Cas said, giving a significant gaze down to the others cock, then back up to his eyes. Dean starred at him for a moment before he followed the order, slowly jacking himself off. This seemed too simple. Was this evening really all about pleasure? And affection or whatever?

“Faster. Put some effort into it.”

Dean fastened his grip and speed his movement to a pace that would have him desperate in no time.

“Good boy,” Cas murmured into his ear. “Tell me when you’re close.”

Oh. Of course. Dean closed his eyes, jerking himself in all the ways he enjoyed the most. Firm grip. Fast movements. A twist of his wrist on every third or fourth upstroke. Pausing for a moment to run his thumb over the slit, coaxing more pre-cum to ease his movements. He was hurdling steadily towards an orgasm, feeling his boyfriend’s heavy gaze on him the entire time.

“’M close,” he moaned out.

“Stop. Hands on the bed.”

Dean quickly followed the order, breathing hard as he tried to calm down. He whimpered sightly at the receding orgasm. It was so close, but far out of his grasp.

“So good for me,” Cas murmured, then leaned down to kiss his stomach. “I love seeing you like this. So desperate to please.”

Dean smiled, relaxing further into the bed. He was still on edge, desperate for release, but it seemed somehow less important. He was pleasing Cas, and his boyfriend would surely take care of him.

A sudden feeling of a marker over his skin almost made him flinch, but he managed to stay still as not to mess up the other man’s work. Peering down, he saw his boyfriend with a blue marker in hand, obviously continuing where he had left off earlier.

“Cas? What?”

“You didn’t think I was done, did you? I already told you I wasn’t changing my plans. I don’t like leaving my projects half-finished.”

“I guess not.” It certainly had seemed like he’d changed his plans. Dean really should have known better. When Cas first made up his mind, he stuck to it. He peered down at his stomach, seeing desperate to please written under the green accepting.

“Dean. Look at me.” Cas laid a hand on his cheek and starred intently at him as their eyes met. “Indulge me in this. Let me show you affection. You deserve to be loved.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean tried to look away, but the other’s eyes were captivating, holding his gaze steady. “Indulge yourself or whatever.”

“Imprudent boy,” Cas smacked his hip lightly. “I want to worship you, just let yourself enjoy it.” With that he picked up a purple marker, putting the tip of it against the skin right above Dean’s hipbone.

“You deserve to be loved,” Cas repeated while writing what was probably the same words into the other’s skin. Dean barely suppressed a shiver as those words finally washed over him. How many times had Cas told him that by now? And how many more times had he found himself doubting it?

“Now continue touching yourself.”

Dean’s hand moved almost on autopilot, wrapping around his cock and jacking it with sure movements. He kept his eyes open this time, taking in all the emotion in his boyfriend’s eyes. No one could convey emotion through a look quite like Cas. And he was using that ability now to express all the love he insisted that Dean deserved. It was enough to make a guy believe him.

Pleasure built up within him even faster this time around. He jerked off until he was moments away from orgasm before he moaned out that he was close.

“Stop.”

His movement stilled immediately, but he clutched the base of his cock for a few deep breaths before he was calm enough to place his hand back on the bed. Perhaps even closer than Cas would have taken him if the former had been doing the touching.

“You’re doing remarkably well.” Cas left a kiss to each of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Dean whimpered in return, struggling to keep himself from pleading for release. He really needed to come. Preferable five minutes ago. Instead, his boyfriend took up the red marker again, and started writing on the right side of his stomach. Dean couldn’t find the energy to read the words anymore, but it was impossible to ignore the several times Cas murmured “good boy” into his skin while he kissed around the new words. In return, Dean let out an undignified sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan. He was being good.

“Yes. Good boy with his pleasing sounds.” Cas smiled down at him, while stroking over his stomach in small circles. “And you are so good to everyone Dean. You care so much. I’m in awe of the love you show to all the people around you. Such a wonderful, caring man.” There were more pen scratches and kisses against Dean’s stomach. This time he simply breathed through it, letting the words and affectionate touches wash over him.

“Not to mention the love you put into your food. Before you, I mostly ate just to sustain myself. Now I do it for pleasure as well. You taught me that through your food, you’re such an amazing cook Dean.” More writing on his skin. More fingers tracing patterns on his stomach. More kisses to his side and chest, followed by a sharp bite to one nipple. He arched into it, chasing the mouth as it moved away. His boyfriend chuckled and pushed him back down with a flat hand on the middle of his stomach.

“Touch yourself again.”

He did. With fast strokes, spurred on by the hands exploring his body. Every time Cas pinched his skin or twisted a nipple, he moaned loudly. All the touches went straight to his dick, and within a couple of minutes he was writhing on the bed, barely able to contain the orgasm.

“’M so close. Please Cas.”

“Stop. Now.”

His movements stopped, but he looked pleadingly up at the other man. “Please Cas. I can’t… I need to come.”

“Patience sweetheart. You can wait. And you will.”

Dean whimpered again, but kept his mouth shut. There was no use arguing with Cas’ decisions. He had made that mistake in a similar position once before. That night he was not allowed to come at all. Taking several deep breaths calmed him enough to remove his hand, and finally look up at his boyfriend once more.

“Good boy. Now, where were we?” Cas looked down at his writing, tracing the words with a gentle finger. At that point, even the small gesture was enough to push Dean towards the edge. He shook with self-restraint, clutching the sheets hard and focusing on his breathing.

“Oh yes,” Cas continued in an even voice. “You, Dean Winchester, is one of the most selfless people I have ever met. You give so much of yourself to others. You say yes to helping out whenever the chance occurs, with no regard for how it will affect you. Every fiber of your being seems determined to change the world for the better. Your selflessness was one of the first things I noticed about you.”

“You’re way too articulate,” Dean half-moaned, earning him another chuckle. Then the pen was back, tracing over his skin. Followed by warm lips, copying the pattern of the letters. Every point of contact sent tingles through his already over-sensitive body, forcing small sounds of out him.

“You keep me grounded and sane. I’ve spent so much of my life with my head in the clouds, not really wanting to partake in the world around me. You changed that by showing me how good reality can be. I want to experience real life with you Dean.”

The statement was followed by more pen scratches, then kisses to his stomach, up his chest, and then peppering his face. Dean whimpered, lifting one hand to clutch at the others arm. A tear found his its way down his cheek, but was soon kissed away. It was all too much.

“Shhhh, just one more thing now,” Cas murmured into his skin. “You are doing so well for me.” Their lips met in a long, soft kiss that swallowed all the sounds coming out of Dean’s throat. Then Cas moved to write a last word on his stomach with slow, steady movement. As the pen disappeared, one hand traced all the words on his torso while his boyfriend left three small kisses to his stomach, chest, and forehead.

“Do you want to know what it says?” Cas asked, his lips curling into a smirk. Dean inclined his head in a way that was meant to be a nod. Apparently it was enough, as his boyfriend continued. “It says excellent cocksucker. The things you do with your mouth are downright sinful.” Dean almost chocked on air at those words, and his lips fell open of their own accord. Cas took the opportunity to push two long fingers into his mouth.

“Suck.” That was a command he didn’t really need. Closing his lips around anything Cas put between them was second nature by now. His boyfriend had a borderline obsession with that part of his body. Not that Dean would ever complain. It fit perfectly with his own love of having his mouth filled. Oral fixation Cas sometimes called it, his voice always filled with awe or deep pleasure. “Now touch yourself.”

He was slower to follow the command this time, more focused on the fingers pushing slowly in and out of his mouth. Even so, his entire body lit up with pleasure as his hand wrapped around his dick. It only took a few pumps before he was back on edge again. Cas was tugging at his hair and moving his fingers steadily faster and harder into his mouth. Dean almost gagged a few times, but forced himself to relax. The pleased expression on his boyfriend’s face was more than worth it. Pleasure built with every jerk of his hand, and every movement of Cas’ fingers. He was hurdling towards an orgasm, and this time it didn’t feel like he could stop. Moaning around the fingers, he tried to say that he was close, but it came out as a garbled mess. Fuck. He was so close, but he didn’t have permission to come. And he didn’t have permission to stop jerking off. Starring up, he tried to convey his desperation, tried to plead with his eyes. It was hard to focus on anything else than delaying his orgasm, the world seeming hazy around him. As such, he didn’t notice Cas’ face coming closer until a dark voice whispered into his ear.

“Come for me Dean.”

Two more jerks of his hand and he did just that. The orgasm tore through him, almost making him black out. His whole body convulsed in pleasure as cum coated his stomach. It was so good. Cas always made it better than he managed by himself. Even when he technically was doing all the work himself. He kept jerking in slow movements, drawing out the orgasm while he slowly came back to himself. Soon he grew oversensitive, but kept up the movement until strong fingers wrapped around his own and dragged his hand away. He sighed in relief and pure exhaustion, blinking up at the man above him.

“Hello Dean,” Cas murmured with a pleased smile. “You did perfectly for me.” Dean blushed at that, looking away. That only earned him slightly annoyed sound from the man above him before his face was peppered with kisses. “One day you will believe my praise.”

“One day yeah. Maybe.”

“You will. I intend to remind you of it as often as necessary until you do.” The statement was followed up with more soft kisses to Dean’s face, and a hand carting through his hair. Sighing contently, he leaned into that touch. This was, possibly, his favorite part. Cas was always so affectionate after sex. All soft touches and endless skin-to-skin contact. And like this, during the afterglow, Dean allowed himself to drown in it. Except, they weren’t both basking in the afterglow. With more effort than he was ready to admit, he lifted a hand up to Cas’ hip, squeezing lightly.

“Want me to get you off too?” He asked with a grin, eyes slowly drifting down the others body.

“Not tonight. I already got all I wanted.” He did this every once in a while. Actually, he did it rather often. As if he got more pleasure from getting Dean off than actually having an orgasm of his own. It wasn’t anything Dean could pretend like he understood, but Cas surely knew his own wants best. He was certainly direct enough about shoving his cock down the others throat when he felt like it.

“You’re sure?” Dean met the other’s gaze again, searching for any shred of indecision there.

“Yes Dean. I just wanted to watch you come apart. I might, however, fuck you in the morning.”

“Yeah. Okay. Awesome.” He grinned again, probably looking dopey as hell, as he relaxed back into the bed again. This time determined to stay put. Everything was right with the world again. Well, except for the rapidly drying pool of cum on his stomach, but that was a problem for future-Dean. That guy had energy for all sorts of things.

“I’ll get a washcloth,” Cas said as he stood up from the bed. Because he was freaking perfect. Dean told him as much, causing a fond smile to appear on his boyfriend’s face. Cas’ hand found his, giving one last squeeze as he started to turn away. Pain flared from Dean’s knuckles at the contact, making him flinch. His boyfriend froze at that, starring down at him.

“Dean? What?” Cas dragged his hand close, inspecting the tender area closely. His face turned from confused to worried, eyes scrunching up in familiar fashion. Dean looked at the hand as well. Now that they gave it attention, it was obvious that it was red and slightly swollen. A miracle that it hadn’t been noticed before. “Dean what happened?”

“Umm… I got into a fight with the shower wall.” The last thing he needed was for his boyfriend to blame this on himself. Sure, it happened because Dean was angry about their fight, but that was on him. Neither of them needed Cas to deal with any misplaced guilt over that.

“You got into a fight with the shower wall,” Cas repeated slowly.

“Not my finest moment.”

“Dean,” Cas sighed. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I know.”

“You can’t hurt yourself just because we fight.”

“I know.”

“Next time you decided to fight an inanimate object, please make it a verbal match. That one you at least have a chance to win.”

“That’s uncalled for.” Dean tried to scold his face into annoyed, but couldn’t keep a smile from breaking out. Apparently Cas was not in a lecturing, or self-hating, mood. This was going much better than expected.

“You know I’m right.” Cas smiled lightly, then looked more serious again. “Does it hurt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle man.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah. A bit.”

“Okay.” Cas nodded solemnly, then put his hand down and turned towards the door. “Wait here.” With that, he left the room, leaving Dean to study his knuckles. They didn’t look that bad really. He’d damaged them much worse on several occasions, but he’d mostly outgrown that part of his life. That was a teenage and early-to-mid-twenties thing. Which was probably why they looked more painful than they really should, they were no longer hardened by abuse. Or maybe he’d just hit that wall harder than intended. He shook his head lightly and laid the hands back on the bed. It didn’t matter now anyway. With a yawn, he closed his eyes, making himself more comfortable.

He was almost asleep when Cas returned, so he just grunted noncommittedly as a greeting. Sleep seemed more important than anything. Until a bag of freaking ice was dropped on his knuckle. His eyes flew open, and he starred down at the offending item. His boyfriend gave him an amused glance as he placed an ice bag on his other knuckle as well. Okay, they weren’t actually ice bags. When Dean looked closer, he saw they it was frozen peas partly packed into a dish towel. That didn’t change the fact that they felt like big bags of ice.

“Why?” He grunted, giving the pea bags a dirty look.

“Because you refuse to take care of yourself, so someone has to.” He couldn’t exactly argue with that. Instead he sighed, watching as Cas took a warm washcloth to his stomach, wiping off all the dried cum.

“You’re really confusing my senses here.”

“Sorry sweetheart.” Cas gave him a quick kiss to his forehead, before throwing the washcloth towards a corner, turning off the light, and getting into bed. Moving around with the freaking pea bags was complicated, but his boyfriend was efficient as always when cuddling was involved. Soon their legs were tangled, a comforter pulled over them, and Cas had an arm around his waist and head resting between his chest and shoulder.

“I’m glad you came back,” Dean murmured into the darkness, half-hoping the other wouldn’t hear him. Of course, he had no such luck.

“Me too. And Dean?”

He hummed lightly in response.

“I promise to be better at reminding you how much I love you. Maybe even stop walking out every time our fights get too intense. But you have to stop pushing me away.”

“Yeah I…. Fuck, I’m sorry Cas. I’ll do my best.” He took a deep breath, starring into the darkness of the room. “And I love you too. You know that, right?”

“I do. Most of the time.”

“Well I love you all the time,” Dean insisted, then gave his boyfriend an awkwardly placed kiss on his forehead. It seemed like he had to get better at those reminders too. He looked into nothing for several long minutes while Cas’ breathing turned heavy, soon making way for soft snores. Shaking off one of the pea bags, Dean circled an arm around his boyfriend, holding him close as sleep finally took him as well.

#destiel #destiel fic #eldu writes #finally finished this thing #minors dni

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the-lincyclopedia · 3 years

Photo

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime.

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is.

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute.

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault.

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always.

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other.

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad.

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity.

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap.

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form.

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story.

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

#mine #omgcp #omgcheckplease #check please #fic recs

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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years

Text

The Things We Don’t Say (modern AU - Actors)

Summary: No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit

Warnings: This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF

- or read below the cut -

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for further updates.

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4

Chapter One

Emma scrolled through the email her manager had sent detailing the new role she was being offered. It was something fresh, something different from what she normally focused on—no hint of a police procedural in sight—and based on the tone, it sounded like they were very interested in getting her signed for one of the leads. She stretched her legs out along the couch, digging her cold toes underneath the pillows in search of some warmth, only to yank them back when she encountered something both crinkly and wet.

“Dammit, Neal! What the hell is this?” she growled, glaring at the brown sludge coating her foot.

She leaned forward, careful to angle her toes away from any other surface, and peeled the throw pillow from the couch. Smeared across the white fabric and the expensive leather was what looked like the remainder of a milky way bar, the wrapper still clinging to the puddle of caramel and chocolate.

“You have got to be kidding me. Neal!”

The only response she got was the sound of something hitting a pan full of oil in the kitchen, the apartment filled with the sizzling hiss of something frying. Dropping her phone and forgetting all about the email she’d just been reading, she hobbled down the hall into the bathroom to clean up, wondering how in the hell to get out a chocolate and caramel stain. Why he couldn’t just learn to clean up after himself was beyond understanding. Sometimes it felt like she was living with a teenager who never wanted to grow up, and she couldn’t help but long for the days when her apartment was clean and didn’t smell like whatever weird odor it was that Neal always brought home—grease and cigarette smoke, maybe.

Her foot finally clean enough to be walked on, she headed into the kitchen to get some paper towels only to be greeted by what looked like every dish she owned spread out on the counters and island. Every surface was dusted in flour and drips of batter, measuring spoons leaving trails of oil and sugar across the floor and counters alike.

“Oh my god,” she cringed, knowing the mess would be left for her. “What are you doing?”

“I was wondering when you’d get off the phone,” Neal poked, giving her a quick glance over his shoulder before motioning proudly over the mess that just seemed to get worse each time she looked at it. “I’m cooking.”

The casual way he always stabbed at her phone use was exactly what she didn’t want to hear right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have to spend so much time working if he bothered looking for something himself. He’d had a recurring role on a family comedy when they met, but he’d been fired not long after, and for the last six months, Emma was pretty sure he hadn’t even gone to any of the auditions she’d mentioned. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if he had an agent anymore.

“When was the last time you had a Milky Way?” she asked, choosing to ignore his snide comment. She just wasn’t in the mood.

“That’s a weird question. I don’t know, maybe last week? You didn’t pick any up the last time you ran to the store.”

Emma nodded, her lips drawn tight as she tore paper towels from the rack and returned to the living room, pulling what she could of the melted mass from the couch and thinking she’d need to resort to Google to get the rest out. Her anger bubbled with every sticky string of caramel that wrapped around her fingers. Why couldn’t he go to the store on his day off? He only had seven of them. She stomped back into the kitchen, hitting the garbage can a little harder than necessary and tossing the mess of chocolate and paper inside.

There was just enough room in the overload sink—what had he used the colander for—that she could wash her hands.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge. What was so important that you had to turn the entire kitchen into a complete disaster?” she questioned, already adding up how much time it would take her to wash and wipe everything down.

She’d be lucky if she was able to get back to her manager before tomorrow as requested.

“You remember that travel show we watched the other night?” he prodded, his eyes glued to the pan as it hissed on the stovetop, a spatula held ready in his hand. “You mentioned you hadn’t had good churros since that trip to Mexico, so I thought maybe I’d make you some.”

The anger that had been just about to boil over slipped away to that place far enough below everything else that she could just go back to ignoring it.

“Neal,” she sighed, suddenly more exhausted than anything else. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Ems—anything for you.”

In the living room her phone blared to life, the dark tones of The Imperial March echoing as it vibrated across the coffee table.

“Work calls,” Neal sniped, a trace of resentment running beneath the pleasant smile he fixed in her direction. “Wouldn’t want to keep Regina waiting.”

It was amazing how quickly that anger came right back to the top of everything, and she found her feet pushing her as far away from Neal as possible, snatching her phone from the table and forgetting entirely about the couch as she stormed into the bedroom.

“What?” she hissed, slamming the door behind her and clenching the cell like it was something she wanted to crush. “What is so important that you couldn’t give me a few more hours, Regina?”

The other end of the line was silent, as if Regina had either hung up, or was waiting for an apology. Well, she wasn’t getting one—not today.

“Is there something you needed, Regina?”

“Are you okay?” Regina asked, not as a friend, but as an employee that was curious to know how soon she would have to contact Emma’s PR team and inform them a mental breakdown was imminent.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bad time. I got the details you sent. I just haven’t read through everything yet.”

“Well, that explains why I haven’t heard from you. Honestly, I thought you cared more about your career than that. I was quite clear this was urgent. Don’t take your time with this one, Miss Swan—they want you, but they can’t wait much longer.”

The line went dead after Regina had delivered her scolding and Emma sighed, dropping to the bed and rolling onto her back as she flicked back into her email and started again from the top. It was an interesting premise with even more depth than she’d originally thought—a new series that centered on the mental health of a man who had developed delusions after a car accident that took his brother, leading him to believe everyone in the hospital was a character from a fairy tale world—but then she got the part that Regina really focused on, the money.

“Holy shit!” Emma gasped, double checking the figures and thinking how she’d never seen such a good offer—not for someone in her bracket. It was unheard of. “I guess they really do want me.”

It wasn’t until she read through the rest of the itinerary and details that she wondered if the big paycheck wasn’t recompense for the filming location and duration—the middle of Nowhere, Maine, as if Maine wasn’t already considered the middle of nowhere.

She read everything twice before she shot Regina a quick text.

E: I’ll take it

The message had only just sent and there were already three ellipses following. Emma could practically hear her manager’s smug response.

R: I knew you would. I’ll be in touch.

There should have been nerves fluttering in her stomach, or at least a solid pit of dread at the prospect of having to walk into the kitchen and tell Neal, but there was nothing. It was a big decision to move across the country for what could be a long-term role, but it was still her decision to make.

Hopefully, he would be happy for her, he would understand that this had the potential of lifting her out of her rut and providing great income for the foreseeable future. There were some great names attached, veterans of the industry that were looking to branch out into a new genre.

She was excited for the first time in a long time.

She didn’t need to feel guilty, at least that was what she told herself as a niggling pang of guilt worked its way into her chest.

It would be good to break it to him gently though, to put a good spin on it.

The minutes ticked by and she finally realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she wandered into the kitchen, her arms crossed in front of her as she looked for him, but the apartment was empty. The stove was turned off and a plate, probably the last clean one, was waiting on the counter with a pile of golden churros perched on top of a greasy paper towel.

Next to it was another torn paper towel with a note scratched onto it in sharpie.

The boys called and I’m heading out for a few beers. Don’t wait up. Enjoy the churros.

She waited for the anger to bubble back to the top, but there was nothing—no anger, no guilt, just a deep, hollow nothingness that grew and yawned as she fingered the scrap of a note transparent with oily fingerprints. Feeling like maybe this job had come at the best possible time, she picked up the plate of churros and walked over to the trash, watching them slide in with the rest of the garbage.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #modern au #actors #the things we don't say

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pragmatic-optimist · 3 years

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☀️ IBoatedHere 👀

send me a ☀️ + your ao3 and i’ll tell you my fav fic(s) of yours

Rae!!! I went back to read through my bookmarks to help me with this ask. This led to me re-reading each fic (again) and realizing the task of picking favorites would be a tall order. In order to narrow this down, I decided to choose from fics that I have not commented on previously. But in the time it took me to answer this ask, you shared two more incredible stories. I stuck to my original choices, but there was a moment of second guessing. So thanks for making this harder! 😆

Prepared and Shared:

This story is a GIFT to Carlos Reyes fans. I don’t think it is a secret that Carlos is my favorite character on this show. I am pretty vocal about it. 😂 Sometimes one of the hardest things about being a Carlos stan is the limited details we get about his backstory. So this story was much needed and appreciated. You gave us the insight into Carlos’ background we've been craving and it’s a lovely journey from beginning to end. In addition, you also provide us with a wonderful explanation of where he gets his gourmet chef skills and love of cooking, along with an excellent depiction of how cooking is an extension of his caretaking.

Several parts of the story were excellent codas for season 1 and 2. Specifically, I love the moment you wrote following the 1x02 dinner scene. I won’t spoil it here for folks, but what you wrote is canon in my head. The way you wrote Carlos in that scene, the insight into his thoughts after that spectacular failure of a meal, and TK’s disbelief that Carlos could still be so Carlos after everything? Glorious tension and I ate it all up.

Your entire depiction of TK and Carlos’ relationship and its progression? ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

THE FRENCH TOAST. THE DOG TREATS. So much teasing. These scenes were incredibly funny and profoundly heartwarming at the same time, which are two key elements I associate with your writing. You consistently have me back and forth between these emojis: 🥺🤣😍

The Reyes Family + TK dinner scene was SO GOOD. The Andrea and TK stuff you write is some of my favorite, I love their dynamic so much. I really want them to be BFFs, even if Carlos will pay the price lol. We know he will secretly love it.

The flash-forward had me grinning like a damn fool. I want to give a special shout-out to your Judd (you capture his voice exactly as it is on the show). The back and forth between Judd and TK, plus everyone else in the scene, was reminiscent of a classic sitcom comedic moment.

I remember you once mentioning that you wanted to write Carlos in a way that makes him as complex of a character as he deserves to be. This is just one of several stories where you accomplish this goal. You’ve done a stellar job of fleshing out his character in a nuanced way and it feels authentic to the Carlos in canon. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

A Shared Weight:

Surprise, surprise. Another Carlos-focused fic. Lol. I chose this story because it contains so many of my favorite things: TK being a soft, supportive boyfriend; the 126 rallying around Carlos; FOUND FAMILY FEELS; an Andrea and Carlos mother/son moment; the Reyes family ranch as the setting (I am very emotionally attached to the Reyes ranch and we’ve never even seen it in canon 😂).

Everyone being there made sense and every job/task they had fit them so well. Again, this is another moment I wish we could see on screen. Sometimes on 911 LS, it feels like the writers are stuck on how to bring the whole group together outside of work. They really leaned into game nights and parties this past season, which I did enjoy because it gave necessary screen time to characters we love. I just wish we also had them come together as a group to rally around Tommy towards the end of the season. I love the quiet moments as much as the celebratory moments between the characters. This story was a great example of how to use a quiet moment to build meaningful relationships between the characters. You wrote all of the interactions here so beautifully. 🥺

Quality Andrea and Carlos scene. I love their chat about found family and TK. I’m actually a little emotional thinking about it as I write this. Carlos Reyes is a mama’s boy and no one can tell me otherwise.

The end scene with TK and Carlos. Once again, you had me 🤣😍🥺. It was perfectly them.

I really love this story and the focus on having Carlos be comforted/supported when he needed it most. He is definitely not the type to ask for help to avoid feeling like an inconvenience or a burden. You wrote this before 2x12 and up until that point, we had only seen Carlos being a pillar of support for TK and Michelle. So reading this story was especially touching because we had not yet seen Carlos being cared for in this way on screen. You are really keeping Carlos fans fed through fanfic, bless you.

Honorable mentions: When You Think You Are In Pieces (There are many parallels between Judd/Grace and TK/Carlos in canon. This story does a nice job of mining one of those parallels so that Judd can help TK come to an important understanding about his relationship with Carlos. Loved it.) + This Is How You Fall In Love (I am such a fan of missing moments, especially ones focused on key moments in a relationship. I really enjoyed this, each scene for each stage was well-executed. Honesty and Stability were my favorite. Everyone should read this one, I can’t believe this was your first Tarlos fic. You were knocking it out of the park right out of the gate.) + Soapy Dishwater Drips (Sometimes nonlinear writing confuses me because I get a little lost. Lol. But this was great, each vignette was better than the one before it. This is the kind of story that makes the reader fall even more in love with TK and Carlos’ relationship. I reached the end and knew I would be back to read it again and again).

#why yes i am still answering these lol #thank you rae for writing for this fandom!#and for loving carlos as much as the rest of us!#my apologies for how long this took #i’ve been working on it in pieces #and i am incapable of being concise when i am excited to talk about things i enjoy 😂#i am who i am 🤷🏽‍♀️#ask games #my favorite 911 ls tarlos fics #tarlos fic rec #iboatedhere #rae tag

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