#this one has been in the drafts so long the wip referred to them as coral kids funfact

[thedo0zyslider]

Your Love Is Like A Wave (And It's Drowning Me Out) - 9k Words

A series of Majorwood drabbles, starting in Double Life and going through the next season, and bleeding into New Life as well

Or: 9k words of majorwood just for all of you 💖

A03 Link

Martyn is currently sitting by a cobblestone box, giggling to himself slightly. Said cobblestone box contains Jimmy, a red life, who he and the rest of his weird little quartet of yellows managed to kidnap. He doesn’t know exactly why he’s giggling though.

Well he kinda does, because this whole thing is a little funny. Jimmy still has air, and can see the sky, so for now he’s just loudly complaining and calling for his rancher to come to rescue him, all the while slinging curses at the other four. Pearl’s sitting on the edge of the box, dangling a hand in ever so often. Like the caged canary were some sort of wild animal that could bite at any moment, instead of ya know their friend? (To be fair Jimmy had tried to bite her once, but it probably wasn’t serious. Probably. )

Cleo is closer to him than Pearl is, making her own comments and jabs about the situation. And sandwiched right between them is Scott, and that man is the whole reason why Martyn isn’t sure why he’s giggling.

Making fun of Tim like this is always funny to an extent, but at some point Martyn’s brain laser focused on Scott and decided to never focus on anything else ever. Pearl and Cleo might as well not even be here, and Jimmy is only there to his brain because of his near constant back and forth with Scott. The man is close to him, very close, and taking quite a good amount of joy in teasing his former husband. All Martyn has been able to think about for the past five, maybe ten minutes is the sound of Scott’s voice and how nice his laugh sounds.

He already knew he had sort of a thing for Cleo. That was a given, they were soulmates, and Martyn was very weak for pretty people. But he wasn’t expecting Scott to be lumped in as well. It’s not like there was anything wrong with Scott, or that he wasn’t attractive or something. It’s just that their relationship has never been….positive in these games? And especially not now that Cleo hates him.

He ends up staring apparently, and maybe looking a little too taken with the man beside him at one point. Scott does catch his gaze for a moment, but that doesn’t stop Martyn from zoning out and staring. Cleo does though, her icy undead gaze seeing right through him. He looks aways, ears turning a little red, just as they hear Tango’s voice coming from over the hill.

“Ya know he’s into you, right?” Cleo says one day.

“What?” Scott mutters back, having literally no idea what they're talking about. “ He ” could literally be eleven other people on this server, most of whom claim to be in a happy relationship or something. So for their sakes Scott hopes the mysterious he does not like him, even if being a homewrecker and stealing Bdubs’s dream would be kinda funny.

“Martyn, he’s into you.” The zombie repeats herself, giving him a slightly unimpressed look. “You’ve noticed the staring, right?”

“Yeah,” Scott huffs, looking back over the ravine. “But I thought he was staring at you, because you were right next to me, or he was being…..being well Martyn. ”

“ Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Cleo exclaims, looking at him like he’s a ghost. “I caught him staring at you the other day and he blushed! ” They look like they’re ready to grab Scott by the shoulders and shake him for being so oblivious. He also gets the vibe that she’s trying to push them together for some reason, which is weird because the zombie absolutely despises that man right now. Scott would know, she’s told him as much on late night “our soulmates suck” rants.

He hums in response, deciding that looking anywhere else was better than meeting Cleo’s gaze at the moment. She was giving him a look, one of those I can’t believe your this stupid looks.

“Pretty sure I’m not into him, so…” Scott mutters after a moment.

“You were staring dreamily at his base when I brought that up.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but promptly closes it when no words come to him. He’s not into Martyn, wouldn’t be in a million years. Even that sounds like the words of a man in denial, and Scott has to stiffen a sigh; eyes now purposely staying very far away from where the blonde's ugly little baston lies. It is always there though, in the corner of his vision, tempting him to look over again.

Martyn sat on the edge of the island, humming absentmindedly to himself; feet dangling in the water below. He was taking a break for…whatever he’d been doing before, and was now just watching the grass slowly spread across the manmade island, pondering all the while. He wasn’t pondering anything bad, no not at all! He didn’t have anything bad to ponder about in the first place. He loved being a Mean Gill, and was very grateful that Scott had allowed him to stay. There was just a slight, erm, issue .

His little….lets call it an infatuation from the previous season had come back. It was in full force too, to make matters worse.

Martyn could feel himself blushing red at the thought, and tried very hard to stop that. How would he explain sitting there, randomly red as a tomato, to anyone who saw? Because TIES could very easily see him, and Scott was probably somewhere nearby. The awful, pretty, beautiful, absolutely horrible man that was making him like this in the first place.

The blonde kicked at the water, watching it ripple and splash. Why did emotions have to be so weird?

Ever since he’d teamed up with the man, Martyn's thoughts had become filled with nothing but Scott. He’d laid awake, bed agonizingly close to the others, and thought about how pretty his eyes were. How he could drown in them and wouldn’t even complain. He thought about his hair, how soft it looked, how he desperately wanted to play with it and run his fingers through it. He thought how not only did Scott have fish features now, which were a little hot honestly, he also had freckles; which were fucking adorable , actually? Martyn didn’t even know he had a thing for freckles or fish people before, but you learn something new everyday he supposed.

He thought about pressing kisses to each of Scott’s freckles, of holding his face and cuddling him late in the night. He thought about how he always had to keep his gaze away from Scott’s lips, how he had to ignore the impulse to kiss him out of the blue because that was weird and wrong and Scott didn’t even like him back.

Martyn kicked the water again, with more force this time. He watched the ripples and splashes again, ones that were now more forceful, and was aware that his face was probably souring a little.

It was never like this before, never like this with Ren. With ren they’d just…. been something from the start it felt like. Maybe that was because Ren’s affection was loud, something he wasn’t shy about; so Martyn hadn’t been shy either. That feeling had burned pleasantly, it had been all consuming and the light he clung onto in the darkest days.

But now Ren wasn’t here, and Martyn didn’t have that light, that comfort . Martyn didn’t have that all consuming fire anymore. He’d been a little taken by them both he thinks, in Double Life. But back then Ren was bright and familiar and well….his usual self. Scott had been hurt, had been colder, would sneer at him and Pearl after throwing them out. It was hard to admit a guy was pretty when you saw his actions drive someone closer to insanity is all. (Though Martyn had also left her, which he felt bad about in hindsight, but at the time it was never their fault to his head. It was always Scott and Cleo ; they were always the bad guys . And now he knows there were no bad guys in that situation, that yeah maybe all four of ‘em kinda sucked and treated each other like shit.)

WIthout Ren, without the complications that came with soulbonds, this feeling had creeped up on him. It had ensnared him and wouldn’t let go; it’d stuck its tendrils in him and he couldn’t pull them out. And Martyn didn’t want to let go of it either, because Scott made him feel warm and fuzzy and bright and he adored it. He adored him , even if this was the most painful unrequited slow burn he’d ever been tangled up in.

Scott’s voice called his name from somewhere behind them, presumably their shared house, and Martyn jumped. His heart skipped a few beats in his chest, and dear god the blonde could feel himself swooning and he wasn’t even within bloody eyesight of Scott yet. He took a deep breath, tried to calm his probably flushing face and stood up, wincing at how soaked his sandals were. Yeah, maybe this was more than an infatuation , and he’d be an absolute idiot to keep thinking that. Maybe he was a little down bad, if you must. Maybe he had a little crush even.

He called back to the other, slowly walking back. He briefly thought about the teasing flirts Scott gave him, and the ones that sounded a little too shy, when Scott flushed the slightest bit of pretty light pink as he spoke. Those were the ones Martyn didn’t think were his teammates normal “flirt with every man in a five mile radius” bit. He thought, desperately hoped, that they were real.

And if Scott was going to flirt so much Team TIES asked about it once, why not play into the bit a little more? Martyn normally wasn’t one to be shy with his affections like this, and just because Scott made him feel like a lovesick schoolgirl, made him feel like no one else ever would, didn’t mean he had to be.

Martyn reached their storage room with a smile and decided yeah, he'll have some fun with this. Maybe he’d get a yes or no at the end of it too.

They're standing there, talking with Jimmy when it happens. Scott’s forgotten why they were at the mansion in the first place really, just that they were there. The conversation had turned to friendly teasing at one point, as it always does with the blonde avian. The two Mean Gills admittedly aren’t very good at not taking the mick out of him.

Today the teasing is because of how Jimmy looks at them both. His gaze is shifting in between them, focusing on the way Martyn stands a little too close to Scott; close enough to be something more than friendly. Close enough where if he wanted to, Scott could easily slip a hand into Martyn’s warm ones and never let go.

The two islanders exchange a subtle little look at one point, and it’s clear both of them have come to the same conclusion. His teammate turns back to Jimmy, a devilish little smile dancing on his lips, and Scott is a little excited (and maybe nervous) to see what he does with that new information.

"What Tim?" Martyn teased lightly, a smirk forming on his face. "Ya jealous that your ex got a new partner?" And oh . That’s where Martyn’s taking this. Scott’s breath hitches slightly, and he hopes the other two don’t notice as the word partner starts to repeat over and over again in his head. The word is soon on loop, like it’s coming from a broken record player, and Scott has to tell himself it means nothing. They're not partners….like that . They’re base partners , allies , and most disappointedly just friends ; even if half the server does think otherwise.

Scott gets a grip of his reeling thoughts after a moment, replacing them with curiosity. He decides to say nothing, and let Martyn go…wherever he’s going with this still.

"No." Jimmy replies a moment later, his voice stiff and controlled. He's still looking at them, and at how close they are. He isn't fooling anyone with that, because they can both see the jealous glint in his eyes and how his wings have puffed up behind him.

"You sure about that?" Scott gave the blonde a smirk of his own, a little more light than Martyn's was. He didn’t want to actually upset Jimmy with the teasing, just to poke a little fun at him. He'd also be a massive hypocrite if he made the other man feel bad or something about being jealous, because he'd literally been jealous of Tango and Jimmy last season.

However, and a little frustratingly, Martyn seemed to be working against him. The blonde moved, and before Scott knew what was happening there were arms around his waist. He blinked, feeling heat rise to his face as Martyn hugged him from behind. The blonde rested his head on Scott's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck a little. This man was horrible actually, Scott decided, and he didn’t like him at all anymore.

Jimmy caught his surprised look, and the merfolk desperately wished he didn't blush so easily. It was clear that the blonde was surprised as well, because that was a bold move Martyn had just done. The avian glanced between them one more time, clearly gathering that this was unexpected, before speaking again. "Yep, pretty sure. Goodbye now!" He huffed.

With that Jimmy turned away, clearly not wanting to witness anymore of their PDA, and scrambled his way back to the top of Bad Boy Manor. Martyn just giggled lightly next to Scott's ear and moved away.

When they returned to their island, Martyn did it once again. Scott had been standing in their little newly built storage area, searching for a material he swore he put in that chest. It almost wasn't a surprise when his teammate took a chance to hold him again, warm arms wrapping around his waist again.

"Hey" Scott whispered, letting himself lean into the touch this time.

"Hi" Martyn responded, resting his chin on Scott's shoulder once more. He heard the triumphant smile in the blonde's voice, and presumed there was blush spreading down his neck. His face felt like it was on fire, so that wasn't too surprising either.

"Was Timmy actually jealous back there?" Martyn asked against his neck, having started to nuzzle it again. Scott was really hoping that no one decided to come over right now.

"Yeah, he was." He responded, letting out a small humorless laugh.

"Probably shouldn't have pushed him so far huh." Martyn sighed. "Especially not doing….this." He'd stopped nuzzling Scott, and just buried his head in the crook of his neck instead. Scott shivered, able to feel the others warm breath ghosting over his gills and scales.

"It's fine, I'll message him later" Scott said, finally resuming his search for that material. He’d been so wrapped up in Martyn's presence, he hadn’t even realized he'd stopped doing that.

He let silence fall for a few minutes, Martyn watching as he shuffled through a seemingly endless pile of items, and listening to Scott’s mutters about how badly he needed to organize their stuff. He felt the blonde smile against his skin, before swaying them gently. This whole interaction felt so….domestic, and Scott wondered if he was wrong for wanting more.

"This is nice, though.." Scott muttered into the silence, barely audible. His frills swiveled back in embarrassment, and he felt his face start to heat up even further. There was a sudden, barely there heat against his neck, and he was pretty sure he'd made Martyn blush as well, possibly for the first time that day. It was a small win, but he'd take it. Scott had one point so far and Martyn had like five probably. Yeah that was a good guess, and Scott wouldn't be surprised if it was more. That man was very good at flirting, he had to admit.

Martyn nuzzled him again as a response, and warmth fluttered wildly in his stomach. Okay then, never mind. Martyn six , Scott one.

"I need to move, Martyn." Scott mumbled when he was done searching, fondly glancing at the other. He would love to stay like this, but he tragically could not reach the crafting table from here.

Martyn mumbled something unintelligible and maybe a little grumpy, before starting to let go of Scott’s waist. Before he let go fully, when his hands rested nicely on the merfolks hips, he leaned down to press a small kiss to the side of Scott’s neck. He pecked the other right under where his gills lay, sending yet another shiver to course though Scott.

Scott stood there for a moment, eyes wide. Hadn’t been expecting that when he woke up that morning, that was for sure. He placed a hand on his neck, feeling around his gills absentmindedly. He felt Martyn’s sly smirk on him as the blonde turned and left the room, walking back towards the upper part of their house.

Martyn hummed, standing beside Scott idly. The latter was talking with Cleo about something or other, something Martyn wasn't interested in. He wasn’t here for chatter, he was here to protect Scott. No one had tried to come from them yet, but his teammate had the most time by far. And he'll be damned if he lets anyone take that away.

Maybe he ends up staring at Scott and zoning out, just like he did back in Double Life. But by now Scott’s used to it, because Martyn can't help himself from looking at something so beautiful. By now Scott is already prepared to tease him for it on a moment's notice, so it's not a big deal like it used to be.

It had taken a while for Martyn to notice this consciously, but he found Scott's fins adorable. He liked the way they moved, how they shone and shimmered under the sunlight. They folded in when he was embarrassed or flustered, which made Martyn want to flirt and fluster him even more. And the freckles, again. God how he wanted to press kisses into each one of those.

He was blinked out of his thoughts by Cleos mildly amused gaze, and the wonderful sound of his merfolk voice.

"Did you hear me, darling?" Scott asked. Beside them, Cleo failed to muffle a wide grin.

Martyn stood there for a minute, cogs beginning to turn in his head. Scott had called him darling. Darling . He concentrated a little too hard on his rapidly beating heart, on not losing his composure and turning red a tomato, that he entirely missed the awkward silence that stretched out after the question.

"Martyn?" Scott asked again, giving him a slightly concerned, yet amused, look. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah I'm fine, perfectly okay!" Martyn smiled back, voice going a little higher than intended.

"Okay!" Scott smiled, turning to resume his conversation with Cleo. The merfolks smile had been a little slow and mischievous, and Martyn wanted to shrink into himself in embarrassment. Scott now knew that he was weak for pet names, and was sure to use that against him very often from now on.

Cleo just leaned in to whisper something in Scott’s ear, something that made him flush. A little perplexed, Martyn watched as he slapped her lightly on the arm; the zombie giggling all the while.

There was water rushing all around him, blood pumping through his veins and pounding in his ears. Water splashed nearby, and Martyn turned to kick at Jimmy again. The avian, who was foolish in the water when he had wings, just coughed up a bit of blood, Martyn’s shoe having caught him in the face slightly.

Jimmy wasn't made for swimming, and the yellow wings just made it harder for him too. They started to drag him down a bit with how thoroughly soaked they were getting, which made Martyn's job just a smidge easier. He knew Jimmy kinda hated swimming, so the fact that he was in the water was a testament to how desperate everyone was for time.

"Scott? Scott!?" He called, desperately splashing in the shallows by their island. He couldn't see Scott anywhere, and panic behind to swirl violently in the blonde's stomach. Where'd he go? Did someone get him? What if he's dead, what if-

"Martyn!" Scott's answering yell came from the other side of the island, a few feet off, and Martyn wished he hadn't called out. Their others now knew where his teammate was as well. Which was fine, he could handle that, he just had to swim faster.

He reached Scott in record time, having to kick and fend Jimmy off at least two more times. The other pursuers were gaining as well, and Martyn had never been more relieved to see Scott’s living face, a sword clutched closely to his chest.

"Scott!" He gasped, swimming over till they were floating face to face. They were farther out than Martyn had initially thought, but he didn't mind at all. Deeper water just made it easier to drown people. Under the water, Scott grabbed his hand and squeezed.

"Martyn! Martyn you have to kill me please!" He exclaimed, casting a fearful look over the blonde's shoulder. They could hear splashing sounds, ones that were getting rapidly closer.

If they had the time for it, Martyn's brain would've slowed down, long enough for him to sit there and gape at Scott, horrified, for at least a few minutes. But they didn't have time, quite ironically, so he just squeezed Scott’s hand back and yelled. "Why?" He asked, voice close to breaking. "I can't do that to you Scott, I-"

The merfolk cut him off by placing a hand over his mouth. "I don't want anyone else but you to have my time!" He said, staring serious into the ocean blur of Martyn’s eyes. Scott’s tone started out harsh, but turned softer with each word.

" Please. " He begged one last time, removing the hand from the blonde's mouth. Martyn said nothing for a moment, letting Scott’s sword be shoved into his own hands. He hadn’t even used it and the weapon felt dirty to hold, as if the mere suggestion was tainting it.

Under the surface two sets of legs moved to keep their owners afloat, and a tail flicked in a wild panic. Behind them the splashing got even louder, till it was roaring in Martyn's ears again. It was then he realized he didn't have a choice, did he? And pulled Scott in closer.

Scott’s breathing hitched, from fear or something else Martyn didn’t know. His hands shook, but he managed to get a surprisingly firm grip of the sword. He was going to burn it later, and make Scott a newer, better one, one that didn't remind him of one of the worst incidents of his life.

His eyes flicked down to Scott’s lips, then thought better of it. Martyn knew he didn’t want to do it this way, so he moved to press his lips to Scott’s forehead instead.

The merfolk let out a strangled cry of pain, the sword being shoved through his ribs. As he pulled the cursed weapon out, Martyn moved closer, eyes pressed shut. He peppered more kisses to Scott’s forehead, to his hair, muttering comforts; that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He buried his nose into Scott’s soft blue locks and murmured that he was sorry, tears falling from his cheeks. He did so until Scott had despawned, and there was nothing but the murder weapon for him to hold anymore. The thirty minutes that washed over him felt disgusting and vile, and he almost couldn't wait to die and lose them.

Martyn stayed there, floating on exhausted limbs, until the splashing was gone, until the roaring in his ears stopped, and until he felt okay enough to go inside and see his teammate once more.

He broke down anyways, poorly retrained tears dampening Scott's now yellow jacket. The merfolk said nothing, just let him cling to his chest and cry.

"Martyn?" Scott asked, voice groggy with sleep. He'd been awoken by shuffling sounds from somewhere else in the house. At first, he'd assumed it was Martyn using the restroom or something else you normally did at one in the morning. But then the sounds had continued, and woken him up again less than ten minutes later. He was pretty sure it was just Martyn, but got up to check anyways, in case they were actually being robbed or trapped. He didn’t wanna wake up in the morning by being exploded after all.

“Martyn?” He asked, stifling a loud yawn. Scott now stood in the doorway, his hand gripping it as he watched the blonde prepare what seemed to be some sort of drink. "Oh sorry." Martyn said, turning to face the other man. A hot mug of coffee was held in his hands, the distinct smell of it quickly crowding Scott’s sleepy senses. "Can't sleep." He mumbled the explanation a little sheepishly, like Scott would be bothered by his teammates having one off night in a death game.

He was going to not think about how the other man made coffee in a server with limited resources, because as far as Scott knew this map did not have a jungle for cocoa beans. Though it might, in the unexplored area. He wouldn’t know though, because it was unexplored and it was also one in the morning. Scott simply waved a goodbye, stifling another yawn as he turned to tiredly shuffle back to his bed, the blonde's gaze on him all the while.

An hour later, when Martyn still hadn’t gotten any quieter, was when Scott decided to make him sleep. Or else.

"Oh shit, sorry-" The blonde said a little blearily when Scott walked into the room for a second time.

"Why can't you sleep?" Scott asked bluntly, hands resting on his hips. There was a certain bit of annoyance in his voice, he was sure of it. Scott was aware he probably looked like some sort of sleep deprived, scary mother of three, but if that was the look needed to get his question answered, then so be it.

"Nightmares…about the, ya know…" Martyn seemed to shrink into himself, and not because of his teammates' tired gaze burning holes into him. He sounded so small, voice getting smaller with every word he spoke.

"No, I don't know." Scott huffed, a little more gently this time. He removed his hands from his hips, and walked till he could sit next to Martyn. The blonde had been leaning against one of their bookshelves, back looking uncomfortably pressed into the wood. Scott sat beside him now, legs crossed and a softening look on his face.

“About yesterday.” Martyn managed to choke out after a minute, hands tightening around an untouched mug of coffee. “Everytime i close my eyes all I see is you in the water….bleeding because of me.” His eyes stayed firmly focused on the dark liquid in his mug, gaze clouded and full of self hatred; if Scott wasn’t mistaken.

He didn’t think about it, just reached over and pulled Martyn into the best side hug he could muster. The blonde stiffied under him, and the merfolk could tell he was stopping himself from returning the embrace. “It’s not your fault, I told you too.” Scott mumbled, burying his face into Martyn’s shirt best he could.

“I know….” His teammate just gave a low murmur of response, slowly setting the mug of coffee on the floor next to them. Martyn moved to give him a proper hug, and Scott clinged to him like a koala clings to a tree; hoping it conveyed what he was thinking. He thought that Martyn blaming himself was stupid , because he’d asked him to do. Scott had wanted Martyn to kill him, he wasn’t bothered by it at all. He also thought he wanted another kiss, maybe in a different place than the forehead, but that wasn’t a good thing to do right now.

The blonde didn’t pull away, just held onto him tighter, moved the merfolk into his lap and buried his face into Scott’s hair. He didn’t even bat an eye when he felt the blonde’s body wrack with quiet sobs, just tried to get even closer and offer more comfort, trying to communicate that it wasn’t Martyn’s fault, because Scott had a feeling this stupid idiot wouldn’t listen to him if he just said it. He had a feeling he needed to show that it was okay as well.

Martyn didn’t cry for long, and they ended up just sitting there, holding each other until Scott had an idea. It was one of those ideas that was either going to go horribly and ruin everything, or shift something else in their dynamic. He was really hoping it was the latter as he untangled himself from Martyn, slowly getting to his feet. The other just looked at him with undisguised curiosity.

"Come on." Scott sighed, taking Martyn’s hand in his. The blonde blinked as he laced their fingers together, and Scott basically pulled him to his feet fully a moment later. The darkness of the night did its best to hide the blush spreading across both men’s cheeks, all the while Scott led Martyn back to their shared sleeping area. The other grip on his hand was tight, squeezing, and he pretended not to notice.

He let go of Martyn’s hand, albeit a little reluctantly, to move the potted plant that separated their beds. He felt a questioning and curious gaze on the back of his neck, the blonde watching as Scott quickly put their beds together. He wasn’t sure his bed would fit both of them, so he decided it was safer to just pull a Bad Boys and push all their beds together. "Don't be weird about this. It helps with my nightmares." Scott said over his shoulder, turning his head to look at his teammate.

Martyn looked a little dumbfounded, his eyes flicking between Scott and the now double bed. If either of them were in a more awake state of mind, the merfolk was sure one of them would’ve made some sort of inappropriate joke. Not that Scott would’ve minded sharing a bed that way, just not right now when he was tired and Martyn was an emotional wreck.

He flashed Martyn a fond yet toothy smile, and patted the sheets before moving to lay down. Scott felt the blonde join him under the covers a minute later, and drifted close to the warmth almost unknowingly.

They laid awake together for a few minutes, before one of them finally gained some confidence. Martyn, probably thinking Scott was asleep, moved closer. He wrapped his arms around the merfolk slowly, eventually holding the other in his arms fully. Scott held back a content little sigh, fully melting against the blonde. He snuggled even closer, back comfortably pressed against his teammates chest.

The two woke up in a similar position in the morning, holding each other and legs tangled together. They didn’t comment on it, Martyn only muttering thanks, and that it did help his nightmares. Scott said he’d push their beds apart later.

He never quite got around to doing that in the end, but Martyn never complained.

Scott blinked in the dim light, Martyn now leaning over him slightly. Oh . He was being pressed against a wall, their underwater hideout suddenly becoming more cramped and small than it already was.

"I thought you were gonna die back there." The blonde mumbled, resting his forehead on Scotts. His eyes were firmly pressed shut, and his body seemed to relax for the first time all day, shoulders sagging. Stress lines seemed to litter his face as well, and the merfolk hated to be the cause of them. Scott’s gaze softened, pressing his own forehead against Martyns in return. I'm here. I'm alive.

"I didn't die, not yet anyways." The last part was added with a humorless chuckle. Martyn didn't find it very funny, as his face scrunched up even further.

Scott apologized by placing a delicate hand on his cheek, gently thumbing it and Martyn readily leaning into the touch. The blonde's own hands went to rest on Scott’s waist almost unconsciously, and he leaned into it with a quiet sigh.

Scott slowly titled his head to the side hesitantly, only once the blonde had opened his eyes again. It was only after Martyn himself leaned forward did Scott feel confident enough to close the gap between them, pressing their lips together softly. Martyn melted into the kiss rather quickly, which surprised Scott. It had honestly been a spur of the moment decision. He hadn’t expected Martyn to reciprocate at all, or do so readily. Martyn's lips were warm against his own, and Scott quickly realized he found it intoxicating.

One of his hands begins to tug at Martyn's hair, trying to pull his ally even closer. Martyn responded by nicking his bottom lip, and eventually slipping his tongue into Scott’s mouth, deepening the kiss. Scott happily let him, muffling a pleased little noise. Warmth fluttered in his gut, the blonde's tongue mapping out the back of his teeth, as the merfolk finally got what he'd been wanting for weeks now.

Martyn whined softly when Scott pulled away after a second, panting. Scott giggled, his frills puffing out in joy. Martyn just recaptured his lips again, Scott letting out a surprised chirp and melted into the contact even more than he had the first time.

When they parted again it was Scott's turn to whine at the loss of contact, but he understood why they'd separated so soon when he felt kisses peppering the rest of his face. The blonde kissed every part he could reach, Scott’s cheeks, his forehead, his freckles and his nose. Scott smiled, cupping Martyn's face in his hands after the other left one particularly risqué kiss on his upper neck.

They both leaned in for a third and final kiss. It was soft and chaste, and tasted sickly sweet, and everything he wanted and more. Afterwards Scott wrapped his arms around the blonde's neck, letting his weight rest on the other. Martyn just rested his head on top of the merfolks lovingly, kisses occasionally being pressed into soft blue hair.

"I love you." He said, voice slightly mumbled as he pressed his face into Martyn's shirt

"I…" The blonde seemed a little lost for words, a little choked by some emotion that Scott couldn't discern at the moment. "Yeah, me too" Martyn mumbled just as quietly, wrapping his arms around his teammate and holding him tight. Scott made a contend purring sound from the back of his throat, and allowed himself to be lost in the moment.

It was all he needed to say.

It was a nice day out, a calm day, and the Mean Gills had decided it was a good time to spend the day together. It was getting later and later into the game, and quiet days like this were becoming more rare and much more valuable. Martyn wanted Scott all to himself for as many minutes as possible that day, really he did, before the manhunts started up again and people were trying to take his partner’s from him. Time with his beloved wasn’t a thing he was willing to waste anymore, not after the first hunt for Scott and the end of it, one that still made him wake up in tears.

They stood at the side of the house together, Scott having surprised him as he went to feed their chickens. Martyn giggled, the other wrapping his arms around the blonde’s neck pulling him in for a slow kiss. He leaned into it as he always did, the pleasant feeling Scott’s lips now achingly familiar to him.

The blonde soon put the chicken feed into his inventory, sensing that the merfolk wanted to take this just a little further. And oh Martyn was so not opposed, he was the opposite of it really. Scott nipped at his bottom lip with unusually sharp teeth, and Martyn allowed the other's tongue to slip inside his mouth with ease. One of his hands went to rest in Scott’s hair, occasionally pulling it.

They parted for air after about a minute, both of them smiling and panting just a little bit. Scott looked at him lovingly, one hand beginning to play with Martyn’s ponytail idly. The ponytail was a new thing, he had figured now was a good time to try and grow his hair out, because what else did they have to do other than not die? The decision had paid off greatly, Scott saying he liked the look very much.

Martyn hummed, leaning down to place a kiss on Scott’s jawline. The merfolk giggled above him, and he took that as a sign to place even more. The kisses slowly started trailing down further, being placed under Scott’s chin, around his gills, everywhere the blonde could reach. They became gradually more open mouthed as well, until eventually a bruise was being sucked into his partner's neck. Scott, who’s knees buckled more with every kiss until he was practically leaning on Martyn, muffled a sound; one that sounded suspiciously like a whine.

"Martyn!" Soctt laughed, tugging the other away from his neck. "People can see us out here!"

"You don't wanna give them a show?" The blonde muttered against Scott’s throat, feeling the latter’s pulse begin to quicken underneath.

“No, I only want to give you one,” Scott’s response was a low and sultry murmur, one that sent shivers straight down his spine. Martyn let his face be held in gentle hands, meeting the merfolk's now half lidded gaze.

"I think I'd like a ticket to that." He mumbled in response, A hand was teasingly slipped under Scott’s jacket, and the other man let out a slight shiver. His tail began flicking around Martyn’s lower legs, the contact burning like a hot iron.

"You already have one." Scott murmured against his lips, giving Martyn another passionate kiss. The blonde made a muffled noise, moving the two of them back towards the edge of the island. His hand stayed under Scott’s shirt the whole time, roaming and exploring to his heart's content.

They had to part once they reached the water, Martyn obviously needing air to be able to hold his breath. But once they reached the cave the two were quickly on each other, Scott allowing Martyn to slam him against the stone wall. Their lips smashed together once again, the action now having a hungry air to it. Scott slipped his tongue into Martyn’s mouth, causing the other to groan. Hands went to tug at blue hair, which made the merfolk make his own sounds in response. Sharp teeth nicked at the pirates lips, and his knees damn near wobbled underneath him.

He groaned, Scott’s tongue exploring his mouth until he couldn’t breathe, lungs burning and screaming for oxygen. When they pulled away Martyn dipped his head back down, resuming his earlier work on Scott’s throat. He smirked at the low moan that came from the merfolk, and pressed another hickey into his scales.

At some point he’d picked up Scott, carrying him the short distance to the bed they kept in the secret room. He pinned the smaller to it, hands gripping his hair nicely and dagging Martyn’s head back to Scott’s neck. The blonde resumed his work, not needing to be asked twice; especially if it elicited those sounds from Scott.

Hands roamed under his shirt, ghosting over his chest before beginning the journey downwards again. All the while Martyn tried to shove Scott’s own jacket off him, moving that and his undershirt so he could have even more access. More whines came from Scott, his partner's lips now pressed to his collarbone and beginning to bite down gently. Martyn let out a groan of his own, fingers beginning to tug at his waistband.

He moved back up to Scott’s lips again, kissing him into the bed like a starving man. Scott’s hands quickly moved to grab the back of his head and keep him there, the merfolk very content to let Martyn’s tongue do whatever it pleased in his mouth. They pulled away for a final time after that, both taking in large gasps of air.

Scott cupped Martyn’s cheeks in his hands, moving the blonde’s head down until they’re foreheads touched. “We should make out more.” He stated quietly, eyes closed as he leaned into the other’s presence.

“You don’t say?” Martyn huffed, amusement leaking into his tone. Scott just hummed in response.

The pirate would’ve loved to stay and cuddle Scott more than anything, but they still had chores to do around the island. So Martyn stifled a sigh, and slowly moved off of the merfolk. Scott made a disappointed huff, and sat up on the bed.

“Gotta feed the chickens, sorry.” He mumbled. Martyn pressed a kiss to Scott’s hair, before going to exit the underwater base. The blonde heard the tell tale signs of Scott’ swimming after him a moment later, and smiled.

They reached the surface together, Martyn noticing that Scott’s shirt was still not fixed once they were on land. He flushed cherry red, wordlessly moving to fix it and hide his glorious work from the world. Scott just giggled at him, tail slapping happily against the ocean’s surface.

“Hi guys!” Skizz’s voice came from the mainland, and Martyn wanted to die right then. He wanted to be striked down by lightning right now because that was proper embarrassing and absolutely motifying .

“What were you two doing in there, huh?” Tango’s voice joined in with his teammates, just as Martyn managed to cover most of the bruises lining Scott’s fair skin. He really hadn’t realized how many he’d left, which made this interaction all the more horrible for him. Scott however, though probably a little embarrassed, was leaning into the teasing. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He called back with a giggle. Martyn just groaned, resting his head on Scott’s chest, hands still gripping the latter’s shirt. His partner just laughed louder, pressing a fond kiss too the top of his head

Scott woke up one night with a loud yelp, loud enough for most of their neighbors to probably hear. He ripped himself free of Martyn’s grasp, breath coming out in short gasps as he did so. Tears were pricking at the corner of his vision, clouding it and making it harder to see what exactly was in front of him. In the merfolk’s panic he kicked off the covers as well, the feel of them being too overwhelming.

Martyn stirred next to him, obviously quite startled. Scott felt his partner's concerned gaze on him as he sat on his side of their beds, shaking. The blonde moved toward him slowly, and lightly placed a hand on Scott's thigh. When the merfolk didn't flinch away, his grasp became a little firmer.

"You okay?" Martyn mumbled, voice muddled with a strange mix of worry and sleep. Scott tried to open his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt as if someone had locked it in place, and now it wouldn't seem to budge. He held back a frustrated noise, and just shook his head no.

"Wanna talk about it? If you can?" Scott nodded again, and tried to get his mouth to work for the next few minutes. Martyn moved closer as he did so, bumping their shoulders together lightly. His fingers drummed on Scott's knee idly, a motion the merfolk found more comforting than he'd like to admit.

When he finally did make a sound it wasn't coherent, just a strangled sound that was supposed to be a word. Martyn smiled softly at that, and kept quietly waiting.

"….Had a nightmare." Scott muttered. "'Bout the first game."

"Third life?" Martyn clarified softly. Scott nodded.

"I saw the grave again." He continued, trying not to recall the dream too vividly, lest he start crying again. "I, ah, remembered the bunker, his death. Then it wasn't Jimmy it was…..it was you -" Scott cut himself off with a sob, the memory of the dream rattling him greatly. Martyn moved quickly, and before Scott knew it he was dampening the other’s shirt with his own tears.

He remembered how he'd lost his husband the first time, how he had been shattered into fragments with just one message. Scott didn’t even have to search his feelings for long before the grief came rushing back, crashing over him like it used to every day back then. His heart twisted painfully inside him, the moment still crystal clear in his mind.

"That's not again happen again, I promise." Martyn mumbled into his hair, gently running his fingers through it.

"How do you know that?" Scott asked, voice cracked with long ago grief. It could happen again, he could so easily lose his lover once more. It was the thing he worried about everytime Martyn tried to defend him, when Martyn shoved himself in front of a ranid army of yellows and reds to keep him safe. He always worried about having to bury Martyn, like he'd had to bury Jimmy with nothing but dirt and a lone poppy-

"Because this isn't Third Life." The blonde muttered, grip on him tightening. "There's no flower field here, and there's no banner to burn."

That made sense, Scott supposed. It made him feel better, so even if it hadn't made any sense it would still be a reasonable explanation he supposed. At that he sunk into Martyn, his teats gradually beginning to calm down. He still clung to the blonde like a lifeline though, the fear induced by the nightmare never quite leaving.

Martyn just laid them both down gently, Scott still clutched in his arms. He pulled the covers over both of them, and mumbled something about trying to get a few more hours of sleep.

Martyn respawned with a yelp, a little surprised still. He’d be killed by a random TNT minecart drop, and he was a little irritated over it. Stupid Skynet and the stupid minecarts. He was ready to go out there and shoot whoever had done it, that was an hour of his time they’d gotten away with!

“Didn’t expect you to be on top of me today.” A voice came from under him, and Martyn looked down in surprise. Under him was a very flustered looking Scott, the frills on his face pressed back in surprise. It took Martyn’s brain a few seconds to process how he’d ended up in this position, cogs turning at a painstakingly slow pace in his head.

He’d respawned in their hidden bed, naturally. It was night time. Scott was probably trying to sleep the night away. Right. Sure . That made sense, but it didn’t make either of them any less flustered. Currently Martyn was being distracted by how he was basically straddling Scott, and his partner was being pushed slightly into the white bedsheets.

“Well, I don’t think you’re minding it much.” He responded, entirely on impulse. Scott’s eyes seemed to light up with that, and he moved closer. Martyn met the merfolk’s half lidded gaze, nose bumping and breaths mingling together. The air had turned from awkward to heated very fast, and the blonde was soaking it all up like a wet sponge.

"Ya know I always had a thing for pirates…" Scott said, voice dipping lower. He ran a hand along Martyn’s chest area, where the shirt was left slightly unbuttoned, caressing his skin. The blonde shivered at the motion, his own hands running up Scott’s arms slowly.

"And I've always thought merfolk were quite sexy." He huffed in response, leaning downwards. Scott flashed him a toothy grin, going to meet the other in the middle. Their lips connected, and Scott pulled them further down onto the bed.

Martyn muffled a noise, the merfolk’s tongue slipping into his mouth for the millionth time. When Scott had said they should make out more he hadn’t been expecting this, but the pirate was so not going to complain. His fingers twisted in the other's hair, and a hand tugged on the back of Martyn’s head to keep him in place.

He pulled away first, the feeling of fire in his lungs. Scott just looked up at him with a pout, lips puffy and red. Martyn ignored the urge to lean down and ruin them some more, slowly shuffling off the bed.

“People are gonna be suspicious if I take too long respawning.” He muttered a quiet apology, watching as Scott tried to drag him back down. His partner just let out a dramatic sounding sigh. “Fine.”

“We could continue this later tonight?” Martyn offered, and Scott’s eyes lit up immediately. “Oh absolutely~” He murmured, giving the blonde one last peck on the lips. A hand thumbed over the waistband of his pants, and then Scott finally let go of him. Martyn laughed at that, ignoring the warmth fluttering inside him. “Eager aren't we?” He called as he exited the room, not waiting for the merfolk response before diving into the cool sea water.

Time was running out.

Scott stood with Impulse at spawn, discussing. They were the last three left, and they were supposedly going to have a fist fight to the death. The winner would be picked fairly, no foul play or whatever. Martyn stood beside them, oddly silent. Martyn was never silent like that. Scott wanted to reach out a hand to his partner, to hold the blonde’s own one last time. To feel Martyn’s loving embrace one last time, because this wasn’t going to end pretty.

He didn’t want to kill Martyn, and Martyn didn’t want to kill him. Unless the red life got to him, he didn’t think he could. And he didn’t want the bloodlust to get to him. He didn’t want to win again, and just standing here had already brought him far too close to that for comfort. So if it did come down to a fist fight, he would let Impulse kill him, because there was no other way to avoid it.

He didn’t reach out a hand to hold Martyn’s. Maybe because part of him knew what was going to happen, because he knew Martyn as well as a fish knew the ocean it swam in.

Impulse said something, then there was a burning in Scott's back. He screamed, feeling the unmistakable burn of lava on him, feeling the liquid splash painfully onto his tail. Impulse let out a surprised yell, and a bucket clattered to the stone ground under them. Just before the magma could finish him off, a sword sliced through his ribs, just like it had during his first death. His lover was saying something, but the merfolk couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears.

Martyn had killed him again, and stabbed him right in the back. Figuratively and literally. If he turned around, Scott would see a flash of pain on the blonde’s face as he did so. Scott didn’t mind though, didn’t mind dying, because third was a fine enough place to get. And probably a higher place than he deserved anyways.

My own Mean Gill. He thought, allowing the world to fade to black. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Martyn huffed, kicking his legs idly in the air. He was at least a good thousand feet off the ground now, which didn't make him feel too great. He made a mental note not to look down too much, and pondered on how exactly he was going to reach the ground again.

He'd just wanted to see what that weird little geyser did, not be permanently levitated! Now he was worried about going too high up and dying, and he'd only had these powers for like less than a week! Martyn huffed to himself again, trying to spin himself around in midair.

There was a flash of blue and orange nearby, and Martyn whipped his head around. He was met with nothing, with empty air. Like everything else around him. He gave the surrounding area a suspicious glance over, and again there was nothing. The blonde huffed at that, figuring it was just his eyes playing tricks on him or something. If he was gonna float into space he wanted it to be paranoia free, thank you very much.

The flash of color kept happening though, so much so that Martyn became more and more convinced it had to be another player messing with him. He also wished they would help get him down, not play an unwinnable game of peekaboo.

The person playing it also seemed to be getting bored, because the next time an orange flash appeared, there was a hand coming out of it. Martyn let out a small scream at that, and made himself float farther away. There was laughing beside him afterwards, and he once again spun to try and locate where the sound was coming from.

The flashes of light had apparently been portals of some kind, because one was soon open a few feet above him. Sticking out of it was the head of a man, similarly blue and orange hair falling in front of his face as he looked down at Martyn. The blonde blinked, watching the man laugh at his misery. The dude was quite nice looking, he had to admit, his features were slender and seemed to have a sort of elegance to him, and his eyes crinkled nicely when he smiled. His laugh rang through the air, a pleasing sound to listen to, and his hair was longer than it looked; most of his being kept up in two twin buns atop his head.

“Hi!” The stranger smiled down at him when the laughing fit calmed down, Martyn now having floated closer. His eyes were multicolored, one blue and one orange, and the blonde wasn’t even surprised by the color combo anymore. That seemed to be very on brand for this guy.

“Hi!” Martyn parroted, struggling to keep some irritation from his tone. “You mind getting me down now?”

The strange man blinked a couple of times, and for the first time seemed to realize how high up they now were. “Oh! Sorry!” He almost squeaked out the apology, before disappearing into thin air again. Martyn floated there, puzzled for a moment, before he was suddenly on the ground again. He made a noise of surprise, stumbling a bit as body readjusted to not being hundreds of feet in the air. Martyn’s vision spun a bit, and he felt a warm hand keep him steady while it did.

“You okay?” The stranger’s voice rang in his ears again, and when the blonde could see clearly he found that the other was now face to face with him. He nodded, staring back into those multi-colored eyes, the stranger’s breath brushing over his face ever so slightly. He had quite pretty eyes, this man did. Martyn could very easily see himself getting lost in them, especially if they kept meeting like this.

“Good!” At those words the other man was pulling back, another smile dancing on his lips. Martyn ignored how pretty that look was on him, deciding it was better to focus on what the guy was saying instead. “I’m Scott, bye the way!”

“Martyn.” He gave his own name, and committed the others to memory. Sometimes the blonde had trouble remembering names, but he figured this guy was the expectation. You don’t see a pretty dude who can teleport very often. Scott’s gaze flicked over him once, taking in his appearance. “Why were you even floating in the first place?” He asked, head tilted to the side curiously.

“Some stupid geyser sent me up there!” Martyn huffed, scanning the area for his new least favorite thing. “Over here!” He walked towards the damned thing as soon as he caught sight of it, wanting to warn his new acquaintance of what they looked like. He heard Scott follow after him, brown boots crunching against the light layer of snow on the ground.

“That thing!” He spat, glaring down at the small geyser, treacherous puffs of air still billowing from it. Scott stopped beside them, tail brushing against Martyn’s legs unconsciously. The blonde hadn’t even seen the tail till just now, and it only made him more curious about the guy.

“Ah, so that’s what those do!” Scott hummed, leaning forward slightly to get a better look.

“You’ve seen ‘em before?” Martyn’s now curious gaze flicked to the transporter again, and he tried not to stare at the open side of the man’s shirt.

“Yep, but I was always too scared to test them out.” Scott glanced at him, his features becoming playful “But i guess you did that for me, huh?” Martyn snorted at that, moving away from the wretched thing a little bit. Scott followed him.

“Guess I did!” He smiled, watching as the other opened a little portal in the grass next to him.

“Gotta go!” Scott explained with another pretty smile, this one dazzling and lopsided. “See you later?” He asked, and if Martyn deluded himself he could hear a bit of hope in the teleporter's voice.

“Yeah, see you later!” Martyn called, freezing himself in excitement at the thought. Scott laughed at him, before falling into his portal, tail flicking in joy. If Martyn could smile while encased in ice, he would. He wanted the ice to melt quicker, to melt right now , just so he could see Scott as soon as possible.

#they r horrible and I hate them/pos #ron.writing #ron.fic #majorwood #scott smajor #martyn inthelittlewood #jimmy solidarity #limited life #limited life smp #double life #dlsmp #trafficblr #trafficshipping #nl smp #new life smp #this is just majorwood fluff for a few thousand words #I am the number one 'martyn was into scott during dl' supporter #this one has been in the drafts so long the wip referred to them as coral kids funfact #cleo is their number one supporter in this btw. she didn’t like martyn in dl but supports scotts lil crush with all her chest #'Bestie I hate his ass but you can fix him he's good for you and watching you two pinning is painful ' kinda vibe

[cosmicanakin]

i only have eyes for you.

adult content | minors do NOT interact

pairing. vinnie hacker x female reader.

outline. your feelings for vinnie resurface after years of denying them. a confession and passionate moment change everything, but dating publicly would bring unexpected reactions your love must withstand.

contains. angst, internalized anxiety, stress, uncertainty, references to past rejection, toxic fans, social media influence, alcohol use, marijuana use, & brief mentions of smut.

authors note. this wip has been sitting in my drafts since nov. it was because i didn't like how it was written but whatever!

you took a long drag from the joint, holding the smoke in your lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly. leaning against the railing of the balcony, you gazed out at the party unfolding in the yard below. lights danced around as people mingled and laughed together, lost in the warmth of the summer night.

beside you, your friend maddy plucked the joint from between your fingers and brought it to her lips. “so,” she said, breathing out a cloud of smoke, “what's really going on with you and vinnie?”

you sighed, reaching up to idly twist a strand of hair around your finger. “it’s complicated.”

maddy arched an eyebrow. “come on, girl. spill the tea. i know something’s been off between you two lately.”

for a few moments you didn’t respond, mulling over how to explain the tangled mess of feelings you'd been wrestling with for over three years now. ever since you first met vinnie at a meet-up for social media influencers, there had been an undeniable spark of attraction. he was smart, funny, and genuinely kind in a way that was rare in your line of work. over countless collaborations and late-night talks, your friendship blossomed into something deep and profound.

but there was always an underlying hesitation, a lingering question neither of you fully voiced - what would happen if things shifted from friendship to something more? vinnie was one of the biggest names in the influencer world, with millions of devoted fans on every platform. his followers were fervently protective of him, and the idea of a potential girlfriend stirred up their jealousy. you hadn’t wanted to put him in that position or deal with the backlash yourself.

a flash of memory cut through your thoughts - a party not unlike this one a year ago, where you and vinnie had both had too much to drink. in a private moment away from prying eyes, he’d confessed his feelings and leaned in for a kiss. but you’d panicked and pulled away, stammering some excuse about not wanting to complicate your friendship any further. the hurt on his face haunted you for weeks after.

things had been awkward and stilted between you ever since. even though you missed his friendship dearly, you had distanced yourself to avoid facing the raw emotions still simmering under the surface. the same painful longing lingered in his eyes whenever you were together by chance at events like tonight.

you sighed again, passing the dwindling joint back to maddy. “i think i’m in love with vinnie,” you admitted softly. “have been for a long time. but i was too scared to admit it.”

before maddy could respond, the glass door behind you slid open with a rattle. “well isn’t this a party,” came a familiar voice rich with amusement.

you froze, stomach dropping as vinnie sauntered onto the balcony with his friend jordan in tow. heart thudding, you took in his windswept hair and lazy smile, eyes lingering on the tantalizing strip of toned abdomen where his shirt had ridden up. even after all this time, his natural charm and good looks still made your insides twist pleasantly.

“hope we’re not interrupting girl time,” jordan said, reaching to yank the joint from maddy’s hold and take a hit.

“not at all,” maddy shrugged, meeting your gaze meaningfully. you shot her a pleading look, silently begging her not to spill what you’d just admitted. thankfully, she took the hint.

an awkward silence fell as the four of you forced small talk, dancing around the suffocating tension hanging thick in the air. you could feel vinnie’s gaze burning into your skin but didn’t dare meet it, keeping your eyes trained downwards.

after what felt like an eternity, maddy stood and smoothed down her skirt. “jordan, i think i saw some old friends by the pool - wanna go say hi?”

jordan seemed bemused by her sudden eagerness but didn’t protest. with a quick wave, the two of them slipped back inside, leaving you alone with vinnie for the first time in over a year. your heart was now pounding so loudly you were sure he must be able to hear it.

the silence stretched on, heavy with everything left unsaid between you. finally, vinnie spoke up softly. “are you ever going to tell me what actually happened that night?”

you chanced a glance at him, taking in his imploring eyes and the rawness of his expression. all the tangled emotions you’d tried to bury for so long welled up inside you, spilling uncontrollably into the truth. “i was scared,” you confessed in a small voice. “i care about you so much, vinnie, but i didn’t want to deal with the backlash if we got together. your fans can be so cruel, and i didn't want to put you through that.”

vinnie’s face fell. “so you pushed me away to...protect me? is that what you’re saying?”

you nodded miserably. “i know it was shitty of me. i should have been honest instead of shutting you out. it’s just...easier to avoid all the drama, you know? we work so well as friends.”

“is that still how you feel?” vinnie asked quietly, taking a measured step towards you.

you closed your eyes, heart in your throat. in a strained whisper, you said, “no, that's not how i feel. not anymore.”

vinnie reached out tentatively, cupping your cheek to turn your face towards his. “hey...look at me.”

reluctantly, you met his gaze. the tender understanding in his eyes made the dam finally break, tears welling uncontrollably. “i’m so sorry. i’m such a fucking coward. the truth is...i think i’m in love with you too.”

in an instant his arms were around you, pulling you close against the solid strength of his chest. you clung to him fiercely as all the pent up emotion came crashing down - grief for the wasted time, fear of opening your heart, and overwhelming relief at finally being honest. vinnie held you through it, stroking your hair softly and murmuring gentle reassurances until your tears subsided.

when you pulled back, his thumb brushed delicately under your eyes to wipe away the lingering moisture. “you don't have to be afraid anymore,” he said, cupping your face entreatingly. “i don’t care what anyone says. i just want you, okay?”

heart in your throat, you nodded. vinnie’s eyes shone with an intensity you’d never seen before as he slowly lowered his head. when his lips met yours it was warm, deep, and tasting faintly of beer and promises. you kissed him back fervently, pouring all the pent up longing of three years into the moment. his hands roamed your sides eagerly, holding you flush against him as if terrified to let go again.

when you finally parted for air, vinnie rested his forehead against yours, grinning broadly. “so does this mean you’ll be my girl?”

you couldn't help matching his smile, ecstatic joy bubbling up inside you. “yes,” you breathed, cupping his jaw to place another ardent kiss on his lips. “i want to be yours, vin.”

his responding smile was dazzling. taking your hand in his, vinnie leaned down to discard the abandoned half-smoked joint. “come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, threading his fingers through yours and tugging you towards the door.

you followed willingly, heart soaring as vinnie led you through the pulsing party. his bedroom door clicked shut behind you, muffling the sounds of revelry below. alone together at last with nothing left unsaid, you gave in fully to the passion and promise of the night.

vinnie’s kiss seared away any lingering hesitation, hands wandering eagerly as you grazed your palms over his lean torso, still hard despite the late hour. with a gentle nudge, he laid you back against his pillows, lavishing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the sensitive skin of your neck. you sighed blissfully, carding your fingers through his soft curly hair.

his lips were warm and soft, his tongue teasing the shell of your ear, and you shivered with delight. “i love you,” he whispered, voice husky. “i’ve loved you from the moment i first met you.” you smiled into his hair, fingers twining in it.

“i love you too, vinnie.” he grinned, his eyes shining. “then why are we still wearing clothes?” he rolled off you, sitting up to peel off his shirt. you followed suit, tossing yours aside as he pulled off his jeans.

you watched him, breathless, as he stood before you, naked. he was beautiful, every inch of him, and you couldn't wait to explore. you sat up, pulling off your panties, then reached for him, tugging him closer.

you kissed him again fervently, and he moaned into your mouth, his hands roaming over your body. you broke away, eyes dark with desire, and slid your hand between his legs, wrapping your fingers around his hard cock. he gasped, thrusting into your grip.

“oh, fuck, yes,” he groaned, leaning forward to kiss you again. you quickly broke away, a wicked smile playing on your lips, and stood up. you straddled him, lowering yourself onto his waiting cock, sighing with pleasure as he filled you completely.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured, cupping your ass as you rocked your hips against him. your fingers tangled in his hair as you rode him, harder and faster, until you both cried out in ecstasy, collapsing against each other.

you lay there, breathing heavily, his arms wrapped around you. “that was amazing,” you panted. “you’re amazing,” he replied, kissing your neck. you smiled, snuggling closer. “i love you,” you whispered, and he smiled.

“i love you too, baby.”

you fell asleep, content and happy, knowing that you had found the one person who understood you better than anyone else.

#﹙ kari writes 𝜗𝜚 ﹚ #vinnie #vinnie hacker #vinniehacker #vhackerr #vinnie smut #vinnie angst #vinnie fluff #vinnie hacker x female reader #vinnie hacker x y/n #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker angst #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie imagines #vinnie x reader #vinnie imagine

[the-angriest-author]

Writeblr intro

Hallooo..

not sure if I'm doing this right... tbh, idek what to put on here. Anyhow, I've been writing for about two years now (YAY!!). I mostly write poetry although as I write this most of my posts are short stories of the fantasy variety. I like reading swoon-worthy romances so if you write anything that makes me blush and kick my feet like the teenage girl I am, I will follow you and maybe stalk all your posts. If you are the grammar police I must warn you that you will be forced to arrest me after reading my posts (I'M WORKING ON IT, not really tho).

I've been on Tumblr for idk how long but I keep ghosting the app (Life and whatnot) I'm craving community, especially with fellow authors, maybe ones with more writing experience (I am a newbiiieee). Guys... I swear I won't ghost again 🤭.

And here are all my labels for all my lovely people:

She/Her

WOC

Queer (bi or pan idek man this sexuality shit aint for the weak of heart)

Retired Stoner (Moved to a place where I can't smoke)

Raging bitch (Moved to a place where I can't smoke)

Capricorn Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Capricorn Rising (Raging Bitch)

Not actually a raging bitch, just think it's funny (Please like me)

ADHD (Prone to run on sentences and overusing parentheses)

Chronically misunderstood (Capricorn)

Very Annoying (Sagittarius Moon)

Certifiably Woo-Woo (Hence the astrology references)

Not Funny (I think I'm hilarious and spent 5 minutes straight laughing at this little section)

Current WIPS

To The Stranger Who Stumbles ~ A collection of poetry written during a time of my life when I was experiencing some intense change and coming to terms with certain childhood events that were... not so fun.

Genre: Poetry

Word Count: 5953

Stage: Beta Reading (message me if ur interested)

The Mad ~ Mildred the Mad and her crew of dangerous and mythical women are charged with kidnapping and delivering the Seelie Prince to the Unseelie kingdom. But with every plan comes complications, some in the form of brooding king's guards.

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Action

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Found Family

Current Word Count: 4434

Stage: ROUGH DRAFT and planning

P.S. My messages are open! Let's connect!

Published Works

The Hidden (w)Hole of a Heart ~ Literally my whole heart shat out onto paper. But seriously tho it's available on Amazon now and I would appreciate any support. In actuality, it's a story about a young woman (Yours Truly) coming to terms with her deeply feeling nature and Depression. The poems describe the heaviness of emptiness and the overwhelmingness of intense emotions.

Excerpts:

Haunted House

Feelings stick to my walls like ghosts,

How is an exorcism performed on a memory?

How do I let them pass through me?

An Apology to The Crone

Pressing my tiny fleshy palms to my ears,

I refused to hear the wisdom of the crone.

Her voice was scratchy with use,

As she warned me of my journey.

I’d close my eyes with every disaster.

The niggling feeling would whisper a wrong,

And I’d pray to God my feet were swift,

So, they could carry me away.

I’d refuse to harden,

Reasoning that beauty is only found in the soft.

I waited to be taken by my knight.

I never cared that the gleam in her armor was an illusion.

I stand unprepared for the cruel world.

Preserved in my maidenhood.

Having grown tired of disobedience, 

The crone has abandoned me.

Only now do I see the clarity of your wisdom,

I will forever be sorry.

A Terrible High

on occasion

there are quiet moments

where minds begin to fill blanks

when small things grow

rock to boulder

smashing me against the ground

flat

nothing 

2D

I’m nonexistent.

If I were nonexistent

the boulder would simply blow through

and I’d be nothing.

And I’d be okay.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #queer writers #writers and poets #writerscommunity #write

[tisiphonewolfe]

Writeblr Intro

Heyo!

I'm Tisiphone - or Tiss, or Tizzy, I don't mind (she/her). I mainly write SFF, but I intend to try my hand at horror and potentially espionage thrillers in the future. I also can't seem to write anything without women being very gay in the middle of it all, so I'm leaning into it.

I follow from @princessw0lf

About me:

I'm a disabled trans lesbian from the UK

What I like seeing in books? Mysteries woven through the plot that resolve satisfyingly. Characters that bounce off each other and grate against each other in interesting ways. Weird romances that don't dominate the plot, but are a key part of it. Great character development.

Favourite books? The Locked Tomb Series by Tamsyn Muir, The Unspoken Name by A.K. Larkwood, Malice by Heather Walter, The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon. And a lot of Terry Pratchett.

Fiction I probably won't enjoy? Something where the plot is purely interpersonal drama or romance with nothing interesting happening outside of it. Literary fiction. YA.

Outside of writing? By day I'm a software developer. The rest of my time is spent drawing, playing games both video and tabletop, and playing electric guitar (badly).

DMs/Asks/Tag games? Fire away!

@sam-glade is my pal and you should go check them out too!

With this blog I'm aiming to post writing updates, inspiration, and probably writing-related memes.

About my writing:

At the moment I'm primarily writing high fantasy/epic fantasy, with a view to trying out some more genres later on.

Admittedly a lot of the classic elements of western fantasy are in there, but I've been trying to get back to the mythological roots of creatures like elves, gnomes, and dwarves, and to present them as not being all white and vaguely British.

The world of The Tectomancy Saga is also, like that of my childhood writing hero Sir Terry, an odd shape. There's a reason for that, and we'll get to it eventually.

While my stories are currently third-person multi-pov stories, I intend to experiment on that at some point in the future.

My stories will probably all revolve around two things; a central mystery and a central relationship. I love a plot where you can pick at the smallest words and phrases, theorise about absolutely everything. I want to write stories where people have a thousand ideas about what the truth is, and each one of them knows there's a good chance they could be correct. I also, as a queer trans lady, want to write about sapphic relationships and include many people who are not cis.

My favourite themes to write are anti-authority, people breaking out of systems they've been trapped in for a long time, people being more important than power.

I'm definitely a plantser. I know kind of where I'm going, but let's see where the journey takes us along the way!

Finally, you can expect the tone of my writing to be trying to find that sweet spot between serious and dry humour that makes you groan, with a healthy sprinkling of subtle meme references.

Current projects below the cut

The Tectomancy Saga

On a bowl-shaped world suspended far above swirling blue mists, nine goddesses, witches, or geniuses, blessed their peoples with divine magics, then disappeared. Now, the world is decaying, tensions are rising, and people scramble to control the magics in order to shape the future.

Made with Crown and Claw

WIP Intro

High Fantasy: The classic Princess-in-a-tower-guarded-by-a-dragon story, but we see the machiantions that put her there, and what happens afterwards.

Releine Sholt is hand-picked by the heir to Tectomancy, Princess Almyra Tectus, to be her new bodyguard. The role has one ominous stipulation: nobody can ever speak to the Princess, on the threat of dire punishment.

'There was only one bed' turns out to have horrifying consequences.

Progress: Fourth draft done at 129.5k

Bound by Stone and Blood

High Fantasy: The saga continues from different perspectives, having different adventures, that will eventually conjoin.

Almyra vies for control of her kingdom. Ellimane tracks down two misfits who are being hunted by a rogue automaton. Releine visits hell. A new threat rises in the shadows of Versewelt, the decaying land.

Bitter exes who technically never dated are definitely not thinking about each other.

Progress: First draft underway at 69k

Snippets and Short Stories:

Flash Fiction Friday: On the Edge

Flash Fiction Friday: I Can't Tell

Her New Captain (Alternate Chapter)

Other

Naenia, through Murder

WIP Intro

Naenia, the reaper who is responsible for death through murder, is shellshocked when a murdered homicide detective returns to life before her eyes and promptly asks her out on a date.

Detective Carina Choudhry has an odd - very Goth - new girlfriend, who saved her from the serial killer she was on the trail of.

Progress: Complete at 46k

Fay and the Red Kite (Title pending)

Fay Orrel, a trainee mech pilot, finds that her beaten-up old training machine holds an AI that has replicated its deceased former pilot. She tries to keep the other woman secret from the PMC that owns the mech, who would be certain to wipe the AI's memories, destroying Mina forever.

Progress: Well, I wrote the prologue and some of the first chapter. Being dabbled with!

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writing #writers of tumblr

[raayllum]

I know you love The dragon prince and that’s great. I binged the show after season three released. I listened to podcasts about the show . I listened to yours and felt really happy when I found people who also liked the show. Unfortunately I fell of during the hiatus between season three and four. I am patient person but three years was long. Also I watched the show for rallylum and through the moon just kind killed my love for them.Then I found your blog and was really happy. Then I saw how you felt about the owl house and it bothered me. As a neurodivergent person the show made me feel really seen. I know it’s stupid to be upset about an opinion. As a person who wants to be an English major how do find parallels between relationships and characters. You talk about certain ones and I don’t see them at all. Your probably more seasoned as a writer than I am so

Ps : sorry this is long and hope tdp ends well in your opinion

Few things:

1) I'm also neurodivergent (hi!) - specifically Autistic - and I have also largely wanted to be understood my whole life, much like Luz (according to S3). While a show making you feel seen can certainly be wonderful, meaningful, and sometimes even life changing, to me that's not enough to make it a Good (per my subjective tastes) Show. That's not to say TOH is a bad show - far from it - but it's one that didn't appeal to my particular tastes due to 1) too many characters and not enough screentime, 2) a lack of theme (which many kids shows don't have a ton of because they're, y'know, for kids), and 3) all of the characters have very black and white morality, and that's just less interesting to me.

Being upset about opinions is very natural, and it's not stupid, but it is also important to acknowledge that 1) you can't control how anyone else feels or interprets things and 2) no one else can control how you feel or interpret things.

2) I adored Through the Moon. Rayla's tendency to leave (and why) is always a hurdle I expected them to have to tackle at one point, and given that it's her main character flaw, I'm really excited and happy with the way it's been handled so far and how TTM kicked it off. The graphic novel also really resonated with me in Callum's place, as I too have loved many of my loved ones through incredibly difficult periods regarding their mental health, and the graphic novel felt very honest about the toll that can take on both parties in different ways, and how love/support can help, but ultimately isn't enough if the person isn't ready (or willing) to start trying to get better. It's not an easy pill to swallow, but it is a realistic and important one and I've enjoyed how the show has continued that storyline with Rayla (and Callum) into S4 and S5

3) Being an English major is not for everyone! I know many people who love to read and who are very good writers where an English degree would not suit them at all. It's a lot of reading (by my final year, there were some weeks where I was reading an entire 400 page book roughly every week, if not multiple at the same time). It is also a lot of writing (and my professors regularly chewed me out for my grammar). You also tend to kind of double being a history major as depending on what you're reading, you learn a lot of the religious/historical/cultural context in order to understand the language, references, and messaging intended by the author (and then whether or how much to disregard it, lmao). Being able to analyze — to see connections between characters and themes in particular, but other forms of symbolism and messaging — quickly is probably the main thing that saved my ass and let me stay on Honour Roll throughout my undergrad.

I have also been writing pretty seriously for a long time (I 'started' at age 10 but only really count age 12 onwards, cause that's when I first started writing 70k+ drafts every 1-2 years for original WIP stuff). A lot of what makes a good writer is being a good reader, taking your favourite stories (books or otherwise — movies, musicals, tv shows, etc can be gold mines) and figuring out what works in them and why, or why you like them (or don't like them), etc.

For example: The Owl House is a primarily character driven > plot driven story. In book form, it'd likely be Middle Grade to early YA. It's interested in character relationships among the main cast (any of the more villainous characters like Belos are never given the same amount of development or screentime) and some mild worldbuilding. It has some social commentary (mostly on the school systems through Luz and mental health through Eda) and an overall theme of "being different is good," breaking away from abusive systems/dynamics, and the importance of solidarity.

If I compare and contrast this to TDP, The Dragon Prince is far driven in equal parts by the plot (because it's wholly serialized) and by character. It is also very thematically driven — most notably how to break intergenerational cycles of trauma and violence, but also self-destructive tendencies, abuse, responsibility, power, grief, and concepts of justice and punishment. This is also reflected in the fact numerous villainous characters (Viren, Claudia, etc.) share close to equal screentime with the 'good guy' protagonists and heavily explores morality across a decently wide spectrum. It thereby has a more mature tone in its subject matter and would easily be YA in book form.

Which is to say: the best way to get better at analyzing is to break characters down to their basic plot structures (Character A does this, they want that, Character B does this, they want that, etc.) and see what pops up (for example, in Avatar The Last Airbender, Aang and Zuko both cannot go home, and duel Ozai when they're 13 years old, ultimately refusing to be violent against their opponent). You can also look at similar personality traits (curiosity, selflessness, carelessness, etc). Practice looking at the stories you love and figuring out what works and doesn't work for you personally — and then go beyond relatability to look more at subtext and symbols. Some of the best things I've ever read were books that had nothing relatable to my personal experiences in them (like The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini), and that was why I loved them because they got to broaden my horizons.

#thanks for asking #non tdp #forbidden op lore #long post #anonymous #requests

[thirteenemeraldcats]

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

tagged by the terrifyingly talented @kvetchinglyneurotic and the impossibly incredible @sighonaraa

1. How many fandoms have you written in?

One! Uno! Eins! All of the ridiculously emotionally evocative writers in the Ted Lasso fandom completely broke my brain and launched me into the undiscovered country (fic writing).

2. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Since January, so about .3 years 🤗

3. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Definitely read. I am perpetually mentally exhausted in my free time and usually can't concentrate enough to write. That being said I also haven't had much time to READ fic lately. So. Help???

4. What is one way you've improved as a writer?

Hmmmm. I'd say embracing the draft process? When I started writing fic (OH SO LONG AGO I KNOW) I was very 'this needs to be good' and now I'm appreciating the 'this needs to be FUNCTIONAL' mindset more.

5. What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Definitely not weird BUT I did accidentally fall down a research spiral for ONE WORD in 'i learned to walk while he was away'. For context: I am not Jewish, but I head-canon Roy as Jewish and there is ONE LINE that references this in that fic. I wanted to double check if there was any significance to the different spellings of Hanukkah, lest I accidentally step on a cultural landmine. Cut to a day later where I'd fallen deep, deep down an equally enjoyable and educational rabbit hole about Jewish holidays, (fostered my ongoing vendetta against the English language,) and found a Jewish bakery that's local to me because I wanted to try Challah very badly. (It was great.) (There is not a large Jewish population where I live [in case that wasn't obvious] I'm blaming my now-semi-remedied culture blindness on that. But Em, you took an elective on world religion in University? SHUT UP I KNOW.)

6. What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

ANY COMMENT. I made an ao3 account last year because I wanted to not lurk quite so much, stop being a 'consumer' of fan-creations, and LEAVE SOME COMMENTS. And I'd seen authors talk about how great getting them was but holy guacamole nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of people liking something I wrote enough to leave a comment or a heart or an 'ah'.

7. What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Errrrrrrr. I guess just gen-fic? Looking at the numbers of ship-fic in the archive, it certainly feels fringe-esque to write gen.

8. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I was going to say 'short' because things just keep happening when I try to write succinct outlines (somehow NONE OF THOSE 'THINGS' ARE PLOT), but after applying a bit more scrutiny to anything I've ever written; it's action. Fast-paced action. I don't know her.

9. What is the easiest type?

Assorted emotional whacks! When I was writing original fiction a solid decade ago as a teen-bean I favoured physical-whump, me now has found it a lot easier to write emotional-whump. Not sure why??? But here we are. (Either way someone's suffering.)

10. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Okay this is actually a very involved story that I might tell later, but I just changed what platform I was using. SO! As of about a week ago I've been writing on google docs. Beyond that, it's a laptop/couch combo whenever I have the brain power (which is almost never 😭).

11. What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

OOOF. There are a few wips in the assorted-mountainous-pile of non-active development that are. Heavy. Heavier than the various fics/wips I've published/am actively poking at. I'd like to write them one day but I am also very 'hmm' when I look at them.

12. What made you choose your username?

So 'Em' is a real-life nickname, smash that together with my love of the colour green and tada! You get 'emerald'. 'Cats' is about... cats. I am obsessed with the little creatures, despite never owning one. (Initially I spelt it as 'kat'- no idea why??? I think I just like the letter 'k'???? Potassium?????????? B A N A N A???????????????) And 'thirteen' is my favourite number, just because I find the concept of a number being considered 'unlucky' hysterical and the idea that some airlines genuinely leave out a row thirteen because of superstition always makes me grin like an idiot. The order is purely because I like the image of a bunch of green cats running around together.

I have done a quick investigation and everyone I know has either already done this or already been tagged. (I have once again shown up two days late with iced-coffee to a tag-game. [At least I showed up, I forgot to do like three of these things despite loving them, I'M SORRY 😭])

If anyone sees this and they HAVEN'T been tagged, consider this your green-for-go flag and feel free to tag me as your tagger.

#THANK YOU BELOVEDS #feel very lucky to have stumbled onto this corner of the internet/fandom/world(??) full of such amazing people #always grateful for you all #tag game #writing tag

[mareenavee]

Is there anything specific about your writing which you can pinpoint that you have improved upon since starting writing? Where have you seen the most "gains"? Is there anything in particular that you'd like to tweak? (I have been thinking about this a lot for myself personally, and I thought it would be an interesting question for you.)

Hello WINTER 🫂!! Ah this is such a fantastic question! Thank you for asking it. Let's talk about level ups below the cut!!! It'll be a long post with rambling, advice and snippets.

Without further ado...

What really is a Level Up and how do I notice one?

I have been seeing a lot of you guys really level up lately with your writing. The joy and effort is super, super apparent in our circle and I am seriously proud of you guys. I'm floored reading the work all ya'll are sharing for WIP (whenever.) It's interesting to me that I can so easily see the skill gains for others but it's much tougher for me to look at mine and SEE it. There's a bit of a perception about our own craft that it's not as "good as it should be" but it's really part of a cycle. (This post here can explain it with graphics.)

At a certain point we hit an overlap where we see/evaluate craft in ways we're still working on putting into practice which can skew our perspective of our own work until we catch up with ourselves. It's important to understand this, at least for me, because it's like...partially turning a page in a book. We're still processing what's been said, but we don't know the rest of the story yet :> And the only way to get the rest of it is to keep going, and finish turning the page.

As with art -- I love looking back on old work and noticing just how much things have changed and for the better, too. Part of learning how to level up is also learning to be gentle with ourselves, which is my next point.

Something that has helped me immensely and has been so invaluable in my journey is mindfulness and mindset shifts. Instead of using negative self-talk on myself, on my writing, on my craft -- I try to reframe it into statements like "I can change how I convey x, y or z if I try this." It is not an easy thing, and is a constant journey. But it does help the level ups. I speak from painstaking experience.

For specifics about my writing -- I'll begin from when I started writing World because I have been writing for ages at this point (I started when I was 7 years old after I first read The Hobbit lol).

Gains

I have seen immense improvement with my scenery descriptions and describing how characters feel about a space and events going on in them since the beginning of World. I have aphantasia so it's really almost impossible for me to visualize anything in my head regarding scenery especially. I tend to rely on sound for this, but imagery is important. Also when I began World, I was in full challenge mode and didn't have the time or confidence to look up the references I needed. I can compare draft versions here for example.

Old Chapter 9 - First version

She took his hand and led him down past the now-recovered Gildergreen, whose ethereal flowers still bloomed in the cold of Sun’s Dusk. They walked almost to the entrance of the city, right before Adrianne’s forge. Nyenna guided him up the stairs of a little house which had stood empty for as long as anyone could remember. Recently, the old, faded boards that had scarred its surface had been replaced. She pulled a fine chain from around her neck and revealed a brass key hanging on it. She unclasped her necklace and unlocked the door of the house.  Athis looked around in awe at the tiny, perfect cottage. There was not a speck of dust, and the fire had already been lit. New dishes lined shelves that had been made by hand. Candles scattered around the room glowed like miniature stars. The light shone off of their matching rings as they walked toward the back of their kitchen. “Welcome to Breezehome,” Nyenna said. “I’ve been working on this for weeks.” “You did all this yourself? For me?” Athis asked, still stunned. He ran his hands over the rough hewn table in the back of the room almost as if he couldn’t believe it was real. “For us,” Nyenna corrected. He turned and lifted her up in one motion, spinning her around in pure joy before setting her back down. They sat down together at the table, and he kissed her gently. “Our home,” Athis said, voice thick with emotion. “Our home,” Nyenna agreed. He pulled her into a tight embrace. They sat like that for some time, warm in each other’s arms.

New Version (Now Chapter 7)

She took his hand and led him down past the now-recovered Gildergreen, whose ethereal flowers still bloomed, even in the cold of Sun’s Dusk. They walked almost to the entrance of the city, right before Adrianne’s forge. Nyenna guided him up the stairs of a little house which had stood empty for as long as anyone could remember. Recently, the old, faded boards that had scarred its surface had been replaced. She pulled a fine chain from around her neck and revealed an old brass key hanging on it. She unclasped her necklace and unlocked the door of the house. She led Athis into the tiny, perfect cottage. There was not a speck of dust, and the fire had already been lit. New dishes lined shelves that had been made by hand. The kitchen area next to the hearth in the center of the main room was outfitted with second hand, well-loved pans Hulda had given her. Tundra cotton and lavender hung from the ceiling, drying alongside other bundles of herbs and braids of garlic. Candles scattered around the room glowed like miniature stars. The light reflected off of their matching rings as they walked toward the back of their kitchen. She fell even more in love, if it was possible, as she watched him look around in awe at all her hard work. All she had achieved for them. “Welcome to Breezehome,” Nyenna said quietly. “I’ve been working on this for weeks, between everything else.” “You did all this yourself? For me?” Athis asked, still stunned. He ran his hands over the rough hewn table in the back of the room almost as if he couldn’t believe it was real. Farkas had actually found that for her. She had repaired it herself. “For us ,” Nyenna corrected. He turned and lifted her up in one motion, spinning her around in pure joy before setting her back down. They sat down together at the table, and he kissed her gently. She giggled. “Our friends helped, too.” “This is really our home?” Athis asked, voice thick. He smiled, garnet eyes shining with held-back tears. “Our home,” Nyenna agreed. He pulled her into a tight embrace. They sat like that for some time, warm in each other’s arms. She pulled another fine chain out from beneath her dress. A brand new brass key she had Adrianne make for her hung from it. She handed it to Athis. He held onto it like it was the greatest treasure he’d ever seen before he slipped the chain over his head, links catching in his hair and tugging more strands loose from the braids. She knew he’d never thought he’d be able to have a place to call his own. It was why she had been working so much, and sleeping so little. To give him this, that they could share together. It was the least she could do. She wanted a home, too. It had been so long since she had felt this kind of safety, this kind of comfort. Normalcy, of any kind. He had given her that. Freely and with his whole heart. They had already started to build a beautiful life. It was more than what she had asked for. It was everything she could have imagined and more.

Changes

I think if I were to pick one thing I'd still like to push more it'd be the visual descriptions of things for sure as mentioned above. I do rely a lot on sound to convey a lot of what I'm experiencing in my mind while I'm writing. Sound has never been an issue for me to remember or to imagine. But balancing that with actual descriptions of what the character can see is still super important and I do try very hard to do this :D

Final Thoughts

Leveling up and improving at writing takes a lot of practice generally speaking, and the drive to want to do the thing. Life can get in the way of creativity sometimes, I speak from experience. So the biggest advice I can give is to normalize being proud of your journey. Each step, past, present and where you're trying to go in the future. Your words matter more than you realize, more than the numbers will have you believe, more than your own self-talk will try and convince you otherwise.

Level ups occur because you are doing something you love, acquiring good input (ie reading widely, and writing often and noticing what works about these stories and what doesn't and asking WHY) , and making a concerted effort to try your best. And your best can look like different things at different points. The next step after that is like I said above, be gentle with yourself, especially each of your past selves. Their work got you where you are today. And where you are today will become a past self that provided a foundation on which you level up your craft.

So be kind to yourself. Keep practicing. Be mindful. When you are inspired, don't forget to write it down. Save pieces of your work for later. Review your own writing with pride.

I know it's not the easiest to see in ourselves and our work, but all that we do, all that creativity -- it's absolutely worth it. The level ups will happen. It takes time. But you'll get there.

(And Winter specifically? GIRL. You are leveling up. You got this. I see you. (: )

#AskMareena #MareenaWrites #on writing #writing advicec #writing advice #writing tips #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr

[365runesoftheamalgamations]

The Not Yet Forgotten Introduction

hello and how are you?

This has been far too long since we have been active and we've wanted to get back into the flow of things! And we believe it is time for a Reintroduction! So, without further ado,

A Proper Introduction

Welcome to the Writing Blog! We are the Not Yet Dead Authors, the Natsume Rune! You may refer to us as Natsume as a whole, or say hi to any of the specifics who run the blog/do the writes! Our pronouns are we/they, and we are an aromantic/asexual genderfluid cluster of whispers drowning in the Void for more than two decades. So just another set of Wanderers who wish to reach out and touch the Worlds in a more pronounced way!

Full Writeblr Introduction under the cut!

Getting To Know Us

We are most comfortable writing and conversing in italics! It just feels like it speaks with our souls, so please be aware that most of the posts and such will be within that realm of writing.

Our most comfortable sense of writing is in third person present tense! We also write in first person (sometimes) and second person (rarely) but our comfort lies in others and their present.

We write mostly fantasy but also dabble in horror, science fiction, dystopian and other works and writing styles. We do hold our own universe, the Storyverse, that we will hint, note, and talk about, depending on things, as well as a multitude of Worlds that will be given over to the Stories happening within in. Hardcore about both worldbuilding and storytelling, so we will probably have a lot to say about both the Worlds and Stories that come with our hyperfixations.

Our writing forms include: fanfiction, short stories, drabbles, flash fiction, novels, poems, and role playing! We enjoy rolling through forms and trying out different ways of telling and sharing stories, so please note that there will be a lot of everything on here.

We follow from the System's Blog, @365runesofthesystem, and will try to be really active in the community, so if you see us around, then feel free to indulge us! We love to be tagged in games and sent asks and the like and will try to get to all of them in due time. [ yes, we do hoard Tag Games, shut the fuck up about it. ]

If there is anything else anyone would like to know, do not hesitate to ask or message us! But be aware that we are not afraid to deal with anything impolite or inappropriate, we have a zero tolerance standard and we will keep it without hesitation.

The Amalgamations of our Creations

We have a lot - and yes, we mean a fuck ton - of Works and Stories that we want to tell at some point in our lives, so this list will definitely grow and expand and shift as we go through our journey.

If you want a full list of all of our Works, check our both our Original Works Masterlist and our Fanworks Masterlist!

All Links to WIP Pages and Intro Posts will be added as we get things sorted and settled!

But here are a few of our more pronounced Works, [ yes, they can and will probably shift and change. No they are not in any particular order, we hate figuring out orders. ]

Grayland's Shadow

Original Work | Fiction, Low Fantasy, Horror Elements First, Second, Third Person | Second Drafts

Ecstasy. The screaming, the struggling, the pleas for mercy, he loved them all. He loved the way they always seemed to think that he would set them free. That, if they were good and tried hard enough, he would just let them live, bleeding and knowing. As if he would ever let anyone go. He never did. He never wasted an opportunity either. So when a girl, around her way into adulthood, sat down next to him on the bench that day, he had no intention of letting her go. None.

Constellations By Orion

Original Work | Fiction, High Fantasy, Action and Adventure Third Person Present Tense | Scene Drafting/Worldbuilding

Orion is the first one she goes for, as he always points North. "I am just saying, your little stowaway is pretty cute." "I don't need a man Orion, I need directions across the sea." "Trust me, if you want a purpose, you should find Ursa Major. She's the guide of adventure, new life." "And where can I find her?" "At the heart of the ocean. She is the Guardian of Polaris and her baby, Ursa Minor."

The Queen & The Heir

Short Story | Fiction, High Fantasy, Medival Third Person Present Tense | Scene Drafting/Prompt Response

She hates herself for hesitating. She stares at the note, gentle cream instead of stark white in order to hold the same connotations of the maid notes that she, and more importantly he, was accustomed to seeing. She glances at the Guard, barely catches the door closing completely, locking her in with the words that would prove herself justified. Or truly and quietly mad.

The Rapunzel Witch

Short Stories | Fiction, High Fantasy, Fairytale Retellings, LGBTQIA+ Third Person Present Tense | Chapter/Scene Drafting

Vibrant and sharp, it is another small check to his identity; the Queen is staring at him, though instead of the hard determination of a leader, he stands before the soft gentleness of a person unused to such direct contact. Something shifts in those eyes; the Royal Majesty frowns more before he lets his eyes drop to the ground between them. “Well, that’s that then, isn’t it?” The Knight feels a soft pang; he almost takes a step forward, hand twitching at his side before the Royal spins around and walks away from him. “Your obligations are fulfilled; the Rapunzel Witch lives.”

The Plague Begins With Me

Original Work | Dystopian, Horror Third Person Present Tense | Scene Drafting

Lost to the devastation of the Plague and destroyed by the aftermath of Humanity’s Fall, the World of Zeomia holds nothing but the dystopian devastation of disease and decay. Shouldering a responsibility that no one else is allowed to know, Zero tries to give mercy to those who have fallen from her own twisted fate.

Main Tags of the Blog

rune ⊹ writings | general writing tag rune ⊹ works in progress | where you can find all of our works rune ⊹ wanderlust | general tag for other blogs rune ⊹ nonsense | fun and silly things outside of the writings/writeblr rune ⊹ beloved | general tag for the mutuals of the writeblr rune ⊹ asks | tag for answering asks and anything from the inbox rune ⊹ authors | writing updates and softer thoughts of us rune ⊹ background noise | anything to do with the blog

#rune ⊹ authors #writeblr #writing community #writeblr intro #creative writing #tumblr writers #writers of tumblr #writerscommunity

[yoonia]

foreword: 2023

back to writing ✍️

Happy New Year 2023!! 

I know I’m late for this, but I had to start the new year with a massive hole inside my heart. Last year was a rough ride, and I just want to thank everyone who had been there with me through it all. For those of you who have been following me for years, for those of you who had only found me last year, and for everyone who had just stumbled upon my blog recently, I truly appreciate every single one of you. 

Usually, I would end the past year and start the new with an overview of my journey, but after a hard year, I figured I’ll change things up and simply drop this post to say hi and give you a quick update. Nothing much is going to change in my blog, but I am trying to do my best to grow as a writer, so let’s just say that I have many things to offer. 

Coming into the year, I have set a goal to finish a few of my impending series (eg. About Time, In Motion, Shifters series) while working on to post most of the WIPs that have been sitting in my draft for an entire year. Please be patient with me as I start working on them one at a time. Meanwhile, some of my discontinued series/fics will be taken down and moved into my Patreon, which has been in the process of happening starting from last year. 

For more updates and announcements—whether it’s about my blog, personal, or my writing process—I will be adding them regularly into my Schedule Post. So please always refer to the post mentioned for any questions regarding my update/posting schedules. 

My Patreon is still open with more special contents coming up, and my Ko-Fi is available for those of you who enjoy reading my works and are interested to send some support. You can find all the links on my navigation page.

As a little bonus for everyone, I will be giving you a sneak peek of my WIPs that will be coming this year (aside from the series mentioned above). I’m crossing my fingers while hoping that this year will be much better than the last, and I do hope that you will all be there to join the ride.

Until we meet again.

xoxo, Dia

!!Bonus: Sneak peeks of my upcoming WIPs!!

⟶ Title | Eternal Sunshine - Epilogue for Spotless Minds ⟶ Character | Hoseok x reader ⟶ Genre | Past Lovers!AU, New Beginning, inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Minds (yes, the movie) ⟶ Summary | You had always felt like meeting him was a chance of fate. He had always been the missing piece of the puzzle that you had been searching for, the beautiful stranger who had somehow become your home. But when your soul seems to refuse to stop searching, you begin to find scraps of the past that had somehow gone missing, erased and forgotten, hiding the pain that would have tainted the perfect life that you had built together. Suddenly, you are given a chance to open the pandora box, to collect the missing scraps of your past. Would you dare to open it and risk what you have with him, or would you leave it alone and move on, just the way you had decided to do a long time ago? ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18/Mature

read here

⟶ Title | Alpha’s Inferno ⟶ Pairing | Namjoon x OC/female original character ⟶ Genre | Vampires!au, Werewolf!au, Alpha!Namjoon, Vampire!OC, Smut, Angst ⟶ Summary | Alphas can only be stronger with a mate. Losing his Destined had almost sent Namjoon into the wilderness, to an illness known to shifters as the Mating Sickness. Fighting his illness, the Alpha continues to lead his pack of misfits all on his own since. Facing betrayals, living constantly with distrust, losing his allies, and finding his own pack slowly crumbling into disarray as he slowly succumbs into his sickness. But the war has turned enemies into allies, and hate becomes love, and he wasn’t completely ready to find the Moon Goddess giving him a second chance to find love in the form of the being that he had once distrusted the most. ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature

read teaser here

⟶ Title | Flux: Blindsided - from Flux! the series, final instalment ⟶ Character | Yoongi x reader x Jungkook ⟶ Genre | Polyamorous!AU, Smut, Angst ⟶ Summary | Yoongi never knew that he did not only take your heart and soul when he walked out the door, but Jungkook’s as well. He had left the two of you behind by making you both believe that he was giving things up all due to his fear and insecurities. Little do you know that nothing is truly that simple. And it never really would. ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18/Mature

read teaser here

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Faerie au, Angst, Mystery, Smut ⟶ Summary | Being the only daughter of the Wicked King has kept you living in a sheltered life. Never once you were given the chance to see the world beyond the walls of your father’s old castle, and yet, it had never stopped you from hearing all the dark rumours of your father’s indiscretions which had left you to continue living in the shadows. When the day comes for your father to send you to live in his castle by the sea, he left you with a new rule set in place. You are left with a set of keys, one which would lead you to travel through the thousand magical doors inside his castle, but you are to never leave through the front door or to step foot through the golden door at the end of the hall. (A twist from Bluebeard. Spoiler: the Wicked King is Bluebeard himself) ⟶ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature ⟶ Warnings | Dark topic, explicit sex (more warnings will be added as I continue writing this)

read here

⟶ Title | The Whispers in The Mist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Ghost!Yoongi, Reincarnation au, Angst, Mystery, Smut ⟶ Summary | He first came to you through your dream, luring you to find him, only to always wake up with his shadows fading with the rising sunlight. But when you can still feel his presence in the daylight, when you keep finding traces of his existence wherever you look, you start to wonder if perhaps he is more than just an object of your lucid dream. Perhaps what you have been seeing at night are your forgotten memories, and he is finally here to help you unravel every part of it, until you could finally remember who he really was.   ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; Dark topic, sacrilege, explicit sex scene (more warnings will be added as I continue writing this)

Teaser available on Patreon!

⟶ Title | G.H.O.S.T: The Hacker’s Tale — Carousel side story ⟶ Pairings | Hoseok x OC/female reader (feat. Yoongi/Jungkook) ⟶ Genre | Hacker!Hoseok, Assassin!reader, Detective!Jungkook, CEO Yoongi, angst, suspense, mystery ⟶ Summary | Always have an escape plan. Jung Hoseok has always been the curious boy, too smart for his own good, and has lived on the edge for as long as he could remember. Living in the shadows, he had operated under the name “G.H.O.S.T” and nobody had ever managed to catch his trail. All except for one man, who had not only given him a chance for redemption, but also a reason for him to survive, and you, the shadow that he had overlooked for a long time, but always ready to come out into the light before he gets far too deep into his own darkness.

Teaser 1 is available on Patreon; read teaser 2 here

⟶ Title | Bad For You: Undercover - A Spin-Off ⟶ Character | Taehyung x reader ⟶ Summary | They say only the strongest women can love men like him. You thought you could take the challenge, but what happens when life and everything around you challenge you back? ⟶ Genre | Stripper!au, Stripper!Taehyung, Smut, Angst, Mature theme ⟶ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

⟶ Title | Nefarious; In Motion - a side story ⟶ Character | Jimin x reader | note: with POV changes ⟶ Summary | Welcome to Club La Rouge, where your sexual fantasies come to life. For the past year you have been a member to the club, never once had they failed to help you indulge in your deepest and darkest need, the desire to embrace a part of you that you had never been able to show anyone else before. Tonight, however, you are met with a disappointment when your arranged ‘date’ had bailed on you. But just as you are ready to turn away in defeat, you cross path with the lovely attendant whose gentle gaze and soft smile have always been able to make you fluster more than any dates you have been with. You know that accepting his offer might cause some inconveniences for both of you, but do you really have it in you to say no? ⟶ Genre | Sex Club!au, Gentlemen Club!au, Smut ⟶ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

— © 2023 @yoonia​, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. translations are not allowed.

#💌 by dia #misc: announcement #2023 foreword #misc: work in progress

[cheeto-flavoured-pasta]

An (Albeit Late) Writeblr Intro

I'm seeing all the Writeblr introduction posts going around and I'm starting to realize that, damn, I should have started my blog that way. But I didn't, so I might as well post my intro a while after I've written and reblogged other things, because it's the least I can do.

So, with that out of the way: excuse my fuck-ups, and here's a really late Writeblr intro…

______________________________________________

Hi! I don't think anyone wants to type out my long username whenever they're referring to me, so just call me 'A.' (He/him). I've been lurking on Tumblr for a while and I figured I'd actually get up and make a blog for writing. I don't exactly have any particular focus outside of just "random crap that relates to writing in any way, shape, or form" so I could be putting up memes, drabbles I wrote, excerpts from my WIPs, writing memes, etc. etc. I'll make other blogs if I wanna focus in on one specific writing aspect later, but for now, I'm keeping things general. 

My current major WIP as of now is APS (stands for 'A Powerful Secret' but I usually just call it the acronym since it sounds cooler). It's a sci-fi dystopia trilogy centering around the idea of superhumans being discovered by an already-corrupt government. There's also a spinoff I want to work on, but that's way off into the future. I'm currently working on B2 of the trilogy; it's currently in the first draft. Considering that this series is still a major work-in-progress, I might not be able to post anything about it until a bit later.

I do have plenty of other side projects that I most certainly want to share on here, since I feel more confident posting those first (when I get back to writing them, of course). Some of these side-WIPs include: 

The Devil On My Shoulder: A fiction centering around a depressed college-aged student, and how his life changes when a demon is kicked out from hell and comes crashing right into his home. 

This is probably the story I'm most excited to work on, given that I've mapped out all the twists and turns in my head already, and all I need to do is write it.

ATM (placeholder title): A story — possibly a series — revolving around a civilization that relies heavily on elemental magic which takes the form of specific jewelry (ex: elemental rings, necklaces, wristbands, etc.). It's often used to fight back against the monsters that invaded the world decades ago. The source of the creatures is something that nobody knows, but the protagonist, Nadeline, is dead set on finding out. 

This story may take a longer while to write, considering that it's a high-fantasy type of story, which is a genre I don't write often but want to write more of.

Don't Leave: (That may or may not be a placeholder title; it depends). A novel that focuses on the town of Bayholde, which forbids anyone from traveling outside of it and has closed itself off from the world almost entirely. Kaguya, a young man who is fed up with being trapped inside, makes his escape from Bayholde one night just to see what lies in the outside world. What he finds is most certainly not pretty.

______________________________________________

You can bet I'll be posting at least something related to the first or third WIP sometime soon. In the meantime, though, I'll probably fill up the blog with all the other things I mentioned before: drabbles, excerpts, memes, maybe the occasional writing prompt/idea if I feel like it. 

I really look forward to seeing what the rest of Writeblr brings, along with reading everyone else's works/WIPs! :)

— A.

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing #writing community #writeblr introduction #writeblr intro #wip intro

[sparkagrace]

Hii!!! First, I just wanted to say that you are one of my favorite steve/bucky fic authors, like, I've read religiously each one of your fics since lane lines was a wip🥹💕.

Please don't feel pressured at all to answer if you don't have time, but I was wondering if you could give some tips on how to outline a story for a fic, especially long ones, and how to easily remember facts/things that already happened/don't mix information... about characters throughout long fics.

I've never posted any fic but I've been writing drafts here and there and I have a few ideas for longer fics. And lately I've been feeling hopeful about putting in the work and maybe write something decent out of those ideas? But honestly writing a long fic intimidates me a lot. Sometimes when I try to outline some small plotline, my mind just diverges in so many different scenes that I either end up avoiding the main plot, or just turn a short one shot into something longer that I feel has a lot of unnecessary or irrelevant information in it (I also blame this on wanting to know and imagining every single thing about the lives of the steve and bucky of each story)😭

I don't know if I explained myself at all or not 🫠

So, (and again, only answer if you have time for this and want to) if you have any helpful advice or tips for this problem, I'd be really really thankful for them🥹

Hiiiiii! Thanks so much for the kind words. I'm so glad to hear you're looking into writing your own fics! That's super exciting 🥰

Long fics are definitely a big undertaking and can feel daunting; I absolutely understand how it feels. Writing any type of fic is such a process and there will be times (no matter the length) where you might feel like it's too hard to go on, but keep going.

I can't speak for everyone but I know for me, personally, I'm hardly ever going to write a fic I'm ready to post within a few hours. I tend to be someone who needs to sit with the idea and then chip away at it, with occasional larger bursts of creativity, and then an editing process.

That said, here are my tips for outlining long fics in particular and keeping all of the information together:

Every single one of my fics has an outline mostly so I can write down the major story beats that I want it to have. Sometimes I won't have every single part of the fic figured out yet, but usually it's a scene or general concept that I'm brewing (e.g. the 2IM final is what I came up with first for lane lines).

Write down ALL your ideas for the fic in bullet form, including headcanons and histories in the verse. You'll learn how to weed out the parts that don't fit. Sometimes it happens right away, other times you're scrapping half the scene. It's better to have it down than to try and remember it later down the line. Just remember that unless it's going to be a long epic, you'll probably cut most of it out. It's really just throwing ideas at a wall and seeing what sticks and what feels useful and important to the story.

For me, personally, I tend to write the story as if it'll be a long one-shot first. This helps me not get stuck on what should be in each chapter (if it's in a single pov). Once I have the outline fully written out, I'll start seeing where I want chapters to form and then start splitting it up.

With many of my long fics, I have a document I keep that is just the basic outline and all the information I want about the characters (i.e. ages, jobs, background info) that I can refer to. For example, lane lines had a lot of technical stuff I needed to remember so I had a document that was just the results of each race, the schedule for each day of the Olympics and what each character swam (see example below).

I'm not sure how you write, but I am a non-linear writer, which means that I write scenes in any order and then fill out the rest. This might not work for everyone! I still have struggles, but I can't work linearly. I find that doing it this way helps me find which parts of the outline work for me/the story I want to tell.

In all, I tend to have about 2-3 docs that I use to help me as I write: a basic outline, a fully fleshed outline/chapter breakdown, and a working document of the fic.

Writing is a process and you'll find what works for you! I'm definitely someone who writes out in depth outlines and yet a lot of the story develops as I write. Don't be afraid to divert from the outline if you feel the story naturally bends; it's a constantly changing idea that is yours, and you're the only one to tell it!

I hope that this was somewhat helpful! I hope that you have a great time writing and please let me know how you get on! If you have any more questions, don't be afraid to ask 💖

#anon ask #writing

[sunset-a-story]

Pumpkin Pitch Event: Sunset Volume 1: Sunrise

Cover art by my co-writer @touloserlautrec

A huge thanks to @writeblrgarden for putting this event on! I've been loving seeing all the awesome pitches!

Joey sees the history of everything and everyone he touches as translucent blue ghosts acting out the past all around him. And this includes his own past, which is how Joey knows he wasn't born, he was made. Made and thrown away.

What he does doesn't know is that the people who made him, SolCorp, are actively working to find him and bring him "home." Neither party has any idea how much that will change them both forever.

Sunset is slow-burn serial of building tensions with a queer ensemble cast of people with unique superhuman powers that make their lives harder more than anything. If you love slow-burn romance, slow-burn action, intrigue, and a winding web of storylines, then stick around.

It's told in three arcs (Sunrise, High Noon, and Sunset) through a series of storylines that seem unconnected until they collide and collide with ramping action and conflict.

After over a decade of working on this WIP, Sunset is live now for Patrons and then one week later on Wattpad & AO3. My co-writer is creating "issue covers" for each installment like the one above and I'm super excited about that.

Details Genre: Slow-burn 18+ science-fantasy Format: serial release POV: third person, multiple POV Cast: Queer ensemble cast Stage: - Volume 1: Sunrise = complete. 116k words/250 pages Volume 2: High Noon = in beta. 307k words/683 pages Volume 3: Sunset = drafting. Currently 995 pages

Please comment or DM for taglist +/-

A sneak-peek of the first page of Sunset can be found here but here's another little snippet from the first issue:

Marek leaned over farther. “Have you heard anything?” “Like what?” Marek shrugged. “Has it definitely happened yet?” Louis shook his head, mouth tight. “No, I don’t think so.” “How will we know? I doubt there will be an announcement or something.” Marek couldn’t imagine getting a memo just letting them know Neptune had carried out a death sentence. Louis heaved an annoyed sigh and tilted his head conspiratorially. “We won’t be told formally, he’s an Icarus after all, but it’ll get around.” It was odd to hear a department head referred to as an Icarus, the name Sol gave to its agents who committed crimes against the company. Once you were dubbed Icarus, your name was taken from you, replaced with a number until you’d either been considered redeemed or… well, the former Venus was a prime example of what happened if the transgression was bad enough to warrant erasure. Your name would never be spoken again. “How did he get caught after so long?” he asked. “His Second--” “Enough of that,” Nancy’s voice interrupted. They looked up. The others had settled in and gone quiet. “Sorry, ma’am,” Marek said, switching to formalities in a setting like this. “You know I’m easily distracted.” Well, he could only be so formal. Nancy scowled. “No one’s fooled by your pretend incompetence.” “Maybe if you didn’t tell everyone...”

Content Warning List

Mind control/telepathy

Violence/gore

Guns/weapons

Death

Substance use/misuse (prescription and recreational)

Off-screen child death

Mention of off-screen child abuse and the concept of CSA (specifically talking about how CSA did not happen)

Mention of monsters

Nudity

Religion

Medical procedures

Patriarchy B.S. and railing against it

Questionable-to-problematic relationship dynamics (eventually)

I would be remiss if I didn't note that these are the warnings for Arc 1 but Sunset is a slow burn and it starts slow so please note that these themes will only intensify. Some CW for future arcs include explicit sexual content, monster violence/gore, homophobia, threat of sexual assault, and confinement.

#writeblrgarden #pumpkinpitch #sunset a story #writeblr community #slow burn #science fantasy #queer characters

[fuckitwebhaal]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 (Also any advice for someone who's trying to start writing, for themselves primarily but still like. looking at my text and man :/ how do I start getting better? and yea it's a durge fanfic lmao)

“Well… you’re one of Lathander’s soldiers, right? That’s why you were in there. Lord of the Dawn and all. I know! I’ll call you ‘sunshine’. That’s much easier to remember.” Karlach beamed, evidently proud of her work. Bedivere couldn’t help but smile back. “So, sunshine. It’s a bit of a long story and probably one best told over dinner. You’re welcome to come back with us."

Ah! I've never been really asked something like that before, but I'm happy to give you some of my best advice. I'm a little scatterbrained with COVID atm, so if you need any clarification or have follow-up questions, please feel free to reach out.

Writing is a skill that's best honed through practice! And, truly, the best practice is to read. Start by reading authors whose work you admire. Why do you admire them? Is it the way they structure sentences, or tie together the plot, or handle character interactions? Dig into that! How do they do that? Don't just 'read', take notes. I am constantly highlighting and writing in the margins of books I love, especially when I see an excellent use of an author 'showing' and not 'telling' emotion; I struggle with that a lot!

And read and take notes on authors you wouldn't normally pick! Expanding your horizons is the best way to learn new things about yourself and new tools to pack your author's toolkit. I detest sci-fi, personally, but I do try to make an effort to read something in the genre now and then (maybe I'll like it this time! Or, maybe I'll just learn something new about how an author can build worlds)!

In a more technical sense, the best way to strengthen your writing is editing. This website has a lot of useful and practical PDFs explaining how to effectively proofread your work and strengthen your writing. This PDF of writing exercises may seem juvenile, but I refer back to it because it truly is the basics that can set you up for success. In my opinion and experience, proper grammar and sentence structure are the basic building blocks to get your writing to really take off.

"But how do I make it sound eloquent? And pretty? How do I make it sound the way it appears in my mind?" Practice! Your first draft is probably gonna suck. But every draft ever will get better and better! For my fanfics, I usually go through about three or four drafts before I let my beta readers take a look at it. And after they look I draft again! So usually five drafts before anything goes up on Ao3. (For Tumblr, I usually just throw up my second pass after my basic grammar has been fixed).

The more you practice, the more you will find yourself growing into your own voice, and that's something that can't be easily replicated. The way everyone tells a story is unique! And, personally, I would love if you would send me your durge fic once you've posted it! I would even be happy to take a look at it if you'd like some fresh eyes after a few rounds in the drafts--I'm full of free time, with COVID and all.

Send me a 🌹 and i'll post a line from my current wip!

#askbox #fiwb writes #bg3 fic #advice?

[marrowwife]

- A WIP INTRO - Parable Of The Hound

"I'm sorry," Flea said, surprised to find that she did in fact feel pity for the mundie, "You're soul has been bargained to a demon."

"My soul?" The woman's mouth stuttered open in a gasp, hand crawling up to clutch the cross at her neck.

"Unfortunately so."

Flea had never understood the mundane preoccupation with the sanctity of a soul, to her it had always been just another possession. A thing that could be taken if she wasn't careful. She expected the woman to cry, but instead her eyes, brown like obsidian in the candlelight, met Flea's with a strength that twisted something in the pit below her rib cage, winding her.

"Right then," the woman said, "How do we get it back?"

- ABOUT -

Genre: queer gaslamp fantasy

POV: third person limited

Status: planning / drafting

Trigger Warnings: fantasy typical violence, body horror, death, gore, tba

- BLURB -

Magic is not natural. It is bargained for, won, bestowed or stolen. But it has never occurred on its own in the earthly plane. Not without the coaxing of a demon and the hunger of a magician.

Phoebe 'Flea' Saint Vindictus was born into a long line of magicians, nebulously tied to Saint Vindictus, one of the first. Flea hasn't played the game of the old blood for nearly ten years, however, fleeing her home after a failed ritual killed her mother. Instead, Flea has taken up the thankless title of Praetorian (refered to as the derogatory Hounds by magicians and parading as detectives for the mundanes), those who clean up the often bloody, demonic messes left by magicians who break the rules. Shunned by magician society and estranged from the mundane, the life of a Praetor is a lonely one, and Flea would choose it ten times over returning to the cult of the old blood.

But when a string of possessions begin to torment the mundane world, Flea and her partner catch onto the scent of something bigger than magician arrogance. A demon may take hold of the body of a human, may walk in their skin until it's possession eventually kills the host and the demon is sent back to its own plane. But the last time demons walked on earth with their own feet, only flood and fire and near extinction drove them back behind the gates. And someone is trying to open them again. Someone who is close to succeeding.

- CHARACTERS -

Phoebe 'Flea' Saint Vindictus; The Hound

"Flea had kept very few things from her childhood, a handful of scars and her nickname, cruelly bestowed by her brothers. Lovingly crooned by her mother. All she had left."

Thomas Harcroft; The Haunted

"Flea could never tell what exactly was spinning and weaving behind his colourless eyes, but it always led them exactly where they needed to be. That was why she never requested a transfer. Even if Thomas Harcroft was better known by magician and mundie alike as Cerberus, the last thing one saw passing through the gates of death."

Margaret 'Greta' Lowell; The Cursed

"Margaret Lowell's smile was quite lovely. Flea could almost forget the brand attached to to her soul, the slow progression of possession that would rot her flesh from the inside, when that smile was aimed at her. She wondered, briefly, if that was what mundies felt when their Christ gazed down at them from church windows; a strange, ignorant peace."

Montgomery 'Monty' Saint Alludian; The Charlatan

"'Monty!' Flea called again, her heavy handed pounding upon the door unceasing. From within she could hear the sound of someone cursing. The door wrenched open and Flea barged through, shoving past the beautiful man haloed by the light of a glittering array of stained glass at his back. Montgomery Saint Alludian, loosely garbed in vibrant silk and a tumble of dark Grecian curls, slammed his own front door behind her with a rare scowl.

'No, of course, do come in little cousin, how am I? Wonderful. Enjoying some well earned solitude actually. Very peaceful.'"

Hyacinthus 'Cin' Saint Vindictus; The Heir

"Cin reached for her, fingers faltering just short of the top of her head.

'You cut your hair.'

'You would too if you ever had to rinse demon guts out of it.'

"Of course," Cin's hand retreated to his own head of golden locks and he cast her a rueful smile. Her mother's eyes peered back at her from his face and she looked away, teeth gritted.

'Why are you here?'"

- TAGLIST -

(ask to be +/-)

@touchingmadness @dreamwolves @philocalizt @wildswrites @aeipathys

#wip: parable of the hound #wip intro #introduction #writeblr #marrow writes #fantasy #gaslamp fantasy #demons #magic system #ch: flea #ch: greta #ch: monty #ch: thomas #ch: cin #aesthetic #graphic #writers on tumblr #queer #wlw

[usedtobeguest123]

The Dream

Hola, Casita! It's been a while since I've been on here, but this little draft of a chapter has been tickling the back of my mind nevertheless. It's pretty quiet in the Encanto fandom these days, so I thought I'd post it here and perhaps that would motivate me to polish it up and come back to my long lost Encanto WIP -- La Traes. This piece of writing can mostly be read on it's own, with a few references to the story it comes from that don't take away too much from the overall one-shotness. I haven't posted it to A03 yet, but hopefully I will eventually.

For now, enjoy this Tío Bruno - Mirabel family fluff, and check out the full story if you want more. Summary: Mirabel has a nightmare, and Tío Bruno offers some unorthodox advice.

TW: Brief description of main character deaths, but only in the context of a dream. I always write with a PG rating.

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“…the miracle is dying because of you!” The words flew out of her mouth before she could think about the consequences. She watched them strike her Abuela, watched the light dim from her eyes as the accusation settled in her chest. Mirabel reached out, but Abuela was already fading before her, a hand on her heart, her edges shimmering and shivering as if Mirabel had dropped a stone into a pool that reflected her. 

BECAUSE OF YOU. BECAUSE OF YOU. Her own words echoed around her, her voice distorting as it layered over itself again and again, growing in intensity until it was deafeningly loud, incomprehensible and terrible. 

CRACK. Behind her, the echoing words converged into a single point. When she turned to look, all she saw before her was a huge void where the magical candle should have been, a split forming down the middle of Casita, yawning away from itself and then suddenly caving inwards in a cascading avalanche of destruction. The dust filled her lungs and made her cough, it stung her eyes. She blinked rapidly, desperately trying to clear her vision so she could see…she needed to be able to see to–to find them, to help…

The horrific, ear splitting sound of cracking plaster and crumbling stone echoed around her, so loud it felt like her chest was breaking apart along with it. She covered her head and ran forward, feeling debris pummel her arms. She skidded to a stop on her knees as the sound reached a crescendo, bending forward to protect the precious thing that was suddenly in her lap. Her arms had been empty only a moment ago, but suddenly they were full and she knew she had to protect whatever it was with all she had, with her life. 

Then silence. Complete and total silence.

She looked down in her arms. It was Antonio, she was holding Antonio. He lay there, covered in dust and dirt, unmoving. A sob broke from her chest. She shook him but he didn’t wake, she was too late, she didn’t save him. She looked up in horror, searching for someone, anyone to help her. She was surrounded by the broken body of Casita, and in the rubble before her she could see buried faces peeking through. Her mother. Her father. Abuela. Camilo and Luisa. Tía Pepa, Tío Felix, Dolores, Isabela. Tío Bruno. 

They were all gone. She could see it in their blank, uncannily still faces that all seemed to look toward her, accusingly. They were all lost, buried in the brokenness and destruction around her, and it was all her fault. It was all her fault. It was all her fault. 

And she was alone.

Through it all, though she yelled and screamed with all her strength, until her throat hurt from the effort…all that came forth from her chest, all that surrounded her, was silence. 

Mirabel bolted upright in her bed, a strangled cry bursting from her throat as she grabbed frantically at the blankets and sheets that lay bunched in her lap. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, as she slowly realized it was a dream. It was a dream, it was a dream, it was a dream…she repeated it to herself, squeezing her eyes shut with a single, quiet sob. 

She was shaking. She tried to take a deep breath, but it was shaky, too. She wiped at the tears on her face and blinked rapidly at the ceiling, trying to dispel the haunting images from her head, to keep them from jumbling with the very real memories of that horrible night a year and a half ago. Behind her, Casita opened her bedroom shutter with a squeak, reaching toward her in concern, but Mirabel jumped away in response, wincing. The sound was too similar to the echoes in her dreams. 

“I-I’m okay, I’m f-fine,” she said to the window, trying to reassure Casita, but each attempt was more a sob than a sentence. She repeated it until she could say it more steadily.  “I-I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” 

It had been a while since she’d had this dream, and the shaky aftermath wasn’t entirely unfamiliar…but tonight was different. Tonight, she’d been holding Antonio. Not the candle, not the miracle—instead, her sweet, beautiful primo lay lifeless in her arms. All her fault.

It had felt so very real. She could still feel the ache from the thundering cracks in her ear drums; her throat felt dry with the layers of dust. She could still feel the weight of him in her arms. He was so heavy. 

She wanted nothing more in that moment than to race to Antonio’s room and see him with her own eyes, hug him, touch his face, kiss his cheeks, reassure herself that he was in fact safe and well and…and…alive. She needed to touch him, to feel his realness and his solidness in order to convince herself that the dream was not. 

She sniffed as a new round of tears escaped down her face. She wiped them away roughly. She was not going to do that. 

Antonio is fine. She knew that, she did, and she wasn’t going to wake him up and scare him just because she was terrified from a nightmare, like a child.

…still though. Her room still felt too stuffy, the walls too close, and her chest was tight with lingering fear. Every little noise of Casita moving around her, each grate and grind and creak, set her heart thundering anew as if it was just the start of something worse to come. No matter what that reasonable part of herself tried to say, her body continued to feel as though her world was crashing down around her all over again, and no matter how tightly she held herself, she still felt like she was falling apart.

She needed air, needed to move. She flung her blankets aside and hurried to her door, not bothering to grab the shoes that Casita jostled toward her.  The door swung open without her having to touch it, and she ran forward until she reached the railing of the upper balcony, leaning her stomach against the turquoise wood to press all the air out of her lungs. She gripped the railing until her knuckles turned white, digging her nails into the wood and shutting her eyes, taking in a big gulp of fresh air and letting it out in a silent, hitched flow. 

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m…

“Mirabel?” 

She stiffened, her eyes shooting wide open at the unexpected sound. It took her a moment to see where it had come from, and it was so quiet she almost wasn’t sure she’d heard it at all. Across the house from her, near the darkened right corner of the hall by the stairs, stood a slightly hunched, shadowed figure. It was blurred—she had forgotten her glasses as she rushed from her room—but she could tell by the swishing edges of the silhouette that it was draped in green fabric, and it was then that her mind connected the voice with its owner. Tío Bruno. 

He was hovering like a shadow at the bottom of the stairs to his tower, and she couldn't tell if he'd been heading down or up them. She hesitated for a moment, frozen in the unexpectedness of encountering anyone in the middle of the night, and then suddenly took off without thinking, padding on bare feet around the hall, nearly knocking them both down as she collided with him and wrapped her shaky arms around his middle. He grunted on impact, but quickly recovered, bringing his hands up to her shoulders to try to pull her away enough to look at her. 

“Mira–Mirabel, what’s wrong? A-are you hurt? Should I–should I get Julieta? Where–”

He was frantically looking her up and down, looking for some kind of physical injury. She felt his grip tighten on her shoulders when his worried eyes finally reached her face. 

“...Mirabel?” He searched her face, his expression falling at whatever he saw there. The honest concern in his voice squeezed at her heart, and she felt tears begin to escape down her cheeks again. A panicked look gripped his face, and he jumped to pull her back in, wrapping his arms around her and carefully tightening his embrace. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. She buried her face in his shoulder, as much to hide her embarrassment as for comfort, and he leaned his head on hers, rubbing her back tentatively with one hand. She tensed her shoulders, willing herself to hold back the sob that threatened to break free, and in response she felt his posture soften with his words. “Ah, Mira. You’re okay, mija,” he murmured. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I-I've got you, kid. You're okay."

It was so silly. This was all so ridiculous, running to her Tío after a nightmare like she was six and not sixteen. It was absurd. But she couldn’t let go. He was real—he was real and tangible, and his hand was warm on her back, and his scratchy voice was comforting and kind, and he was okay. He was okay. He wasn’t buried in rubble, wasn’t lost forever. And the more she hugged him and let him hug her back, the more her terrible dream started to fade back into obscurity. 

They stood there in the hallway for a good long while, his muttered assurances eventually falling silent but his arms around her never loosening. His shoulder was gritty, his clothing dusted with particles of sand that she could feel sticking to her face and eyelashes. Had he just had a vision? The reasonable part of her brain slowly started to regain control. She realized she was gripping the back of his ruana with tight fists, and slowly made herself release them. Her breathing had evened out, and she took one last deep, shaking breath before slowly stepping back from him, her face down, unable to meet his eyes. She wiped shamefully at her face and nose—geez, she was a mess. He kept a heavy hand on her shoulder. 

When she didn’t speak, he broke the silence, his voice taut and just a little too high. 

“You know what? I-I could use some tea. Yeah, let’s…let’s go make some hierbabuena, okay?” 

She sniffed and nodded in quiet acceptance, letting him put his arm around her shoulders and steer them both to the stairs. 

—

He led her to one of the stools that stood at the butcher block island in the center of the kitchen. She scooted onto it and leaned her elbows onto the wooden counter, wrapping her arms around herself in a pitiful hug. Though the night was temperate and the air still, she suddenly felt oddly cold now that Tío Bruno had removed his arm from around her shoulders. 

Bruno paused and looked at her helplessly, his fingers twitching anxiously in front of him. He suddenly began glancing abstractly around himself, his brow bunched in concern like he was trying to find something, patting his torso as if searching nonexistent pockets. After a moment of tight-lipped thought, he seemed to reach some sort of silent conclusion and clumsily shrugged himself out of the ruana, sending a quiet hiss of sand raining to the floor. Bruno grimaced at Julieta’s no-longer-spotless kitchen tiles, but then shrugged dismissively and turned to dump the unwieldy fabric unceremoniously over Mirabel, pulling carefully at it until her head popped through the ruana’s neck hole. She let out a weak laugh and pulled the fabric closer around herself.

“Thanks,” she said softly. He nodded at her, satisfied that she would no longer freeze in the warm night air, and turned away to set water to boil in the kettle. A tinkle of metal pulled her attention down to her feet, where Casita was delicately bouncing her glasses back and forth with the kitchen tiles. 

"Thank you," she whispered again, her voice dampened with tight-throated chagrin. She'd been so ridiculously panicked, she hadn't even thought to get them. The quiet calm of the kitchen now felt painfully damning to her previous behavior. She sighed as she slid them on her nose and blinked into clarity.

She glanced down at the mass of fabric bunched across her. The moss green ruana hung much too big on her, but it probably fit her about as well as it fit Tío Bruno. Tiny maroon mice trailed down the front—it was one of the first she'd embroidered for him. She ran her finger over one of the mice, absentmindedly appraising her work. Not bad, the stitches were still tight and unbunched. The lengths of green fabric hung heavily from her shoulders, and she thought she could perhaps see why Bruno liked to wear it so much. With her arms tucked inside, it felt like being wrapped in a blanket. The weight was comforting. 

She looked over at her tío now, where he moved about his task in jerky, uncertain movements. Casita was nudging him through the tea making process with patiently tilting tiles. He'd retrieved the kettle and was shifting from foot to foot with it in his hands before suddenly jumping to fill it in the already-running sink, as if he needed a moment to remember the next step. She couldn't be sure, with his back turned to her, but he seemed particularly nervous. Probably from the undignified display she'd just put on upstairs. She winced.

Poor Tío. 

She was thankful, though, for her sweet, strange tío. She considered him carefully, watching him move about the kitchen to grab the tetera and tea leaves, looking even slighter than usual in just his pajamas and bare feet. She blew air out her nose in mild amusement as he rose up on tip-toes in order to reach the cups. It had only been a year and a half since his return and she was already gaining on him in height. She’d likely be taller than him by this time next year, a fact not helped at all by his tendency to hunch in on himself all the time. 

He muttered and waved a dismissive hand at Casita, who was now tipping the tiles under his feet to keep the hem of his nightshirt from catching on the small flame under the kettle. 

Tío Bruno’s return had brought something new to her life that Mirabel didn’t know she’d needed—someone who understood her without looking down on her. Someone closer to…an ally, maybe. 

She'd always had her parents of course, and she knew without a doubt that they loved her deeply. But Mamá, for all her adoration and assurances, had always tried to make up for Mirabel's deficits. Her well-meaning, constant fussing only confirmed in Mirabel's mind that her mother saw something lacking in her as well, something that couldn’t be fixed. 

Pa was less overbearing in his love, but he still didn’t quite get it. He’d always tried to relate to her on the basis of their shared giftlessness, but he’d never been expected to have a gift. He didn’t understand that it was just different for his disappointment of a daughter. And so, though she had always been surrounded by a family she knew loved her more than anything in the world, she’d always felt…alone. 

But Tío Bruno was different. Tío Bruno knew what it meant to live on the sidelines of a fantastic family, to be missing that unnamable something that made fitting in a natural thing. And so, though she’d always had a lively Tío Felix who could teach her to dance and make her laugh, and a goofy Pa who excelled at distracting her when things got hard, she realized that she now had something she hadn’t known she was missing. Now she had a Tío Bruno—an uncle who truly saw her and cared for her, but who was also…a friend. 

Maybe she was just feeling overly sentimental because, you know, she’d just dreamed her entire family was dead and it was ENTIRELY all her fault…but she was suddenly just incredibly thankful. She was thankful it was Tío Bruno who’d stumbled across her, of all the ten other family members that could have witnessed her display of childish weakness. She was thankful to be sharing midnight tea with this uncle-friend who she somehow felt closer to than any of the family she’d known her whole life. And as she settled into the quiet of the empty kitchen, her jittery nerves slowly calming and her racing heartbeat evening out, she was thankful that—though she was perfectly capable of doing so—she wasn’t going to have to face the night alone. 

Tío Bruno carried the over-filled tea cups carefully to the table, setting them both down as soon as his outstretched arms could reach the edge of the wood. Once they were securely on the stable surface, he pushed one in front of her and settled in front of the other. He blew over the surface of the tea as he fidgeted into a more comfortable position on the stool beside hers. 

“Hey,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup and staring into its depths. “I’m, um, I’m glad you’re here.”

He looked up at her with a sad smile, his face still more worried than anything else…or, panicked, perhaps that was carefully managed panic in his eyes. 

“O-of course, kid, I wasn’t going to leave you like…um, like that.” He winced and nodded his head in the direction of the balcony, indicating the location of her breakdown. 

She grimaced. Yes, thank you, Tío. 

“I know, I just…I meant in general. I’m just glad you’re…here.”

He stared at her with his too-wide eyes. What fear lingered in his expression slowly melted, and he looked for a moment like he wanted nothing more than to hug her as tight as he could. He reached out a hand toward hers, but hesitated, settling for patting her forearm awkwardly instead. He held in a breath, shoring up his emotions into something more manageable perhaps, before giving her a small, grateful smile, filled with genuine, unguarded affection. 

“Yeah, me too, kid. More than you know.” 

She could feel the tears welling up again, all the emotions of her dream still too close to the surface. She looked away and blinked to dispel the tears, taking a sip of her scalding tea to hide them further. 

“So,” Tío Bruno said carefully, “so, you, uh, want to tell me what happened?”

Mirabel tensed and took another sip of her tea. 

No, she thought. No I most definitely do not. I want to pretend it never happened and then maybe it will be true…

“Um,” she tried, but the words got stuck in her throat. She took another sip. Bruno waited. “I, um,…I had a…bad…dream.” She cringed. Oh, the shame. She even sounded like a child. 

“Must have been a doozy,” he replied gently. 

She nodded without looking at him. 

“Do you, uh, want to tell me about it? I-I’ve heard that sometimes it can help to tell someone about it…makes it seem less scary when you say it out loud. It, I dunno, it takes away its power over you, or something like that. Now, I don’t know if that’s all true, a-a-and I know I’m not your ma or pa, but, I-I can still, you know, listen. I can always listen, when you, when you need it.” 

She looked up at him then, and something in the way he glanced nervously at her and away again chased away some of her embarrassment. This was Tío Bruno she was talking to—he had absolutely no motive to judge her. And maybe it would feel better for someone to know. She’d never told anyone. Maybe that was why the dream never went completely away. 

A long silence stretched between them. After a moment, Tío Bruno held up a pausing finger, interrupting her indecisive, circling thoughts. With one swift flourish, he reached out and pulled the hood of the borrowed ruana up and over her head. 

“There,” he said, matter of factly. “Now you, you don’t have to be afraid of anything.” 

She smiled weakly at him from under the hood, and he turned back to his tea, waiting quietly for her to find her courage. She tried to channel the dauntless spirit of Hernando. 

“It...was about Casita,” she whispered finally, so quietly that Bruno had to lean toward her to hear. “About when…it fell.” 

She could see him stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Everyone was…gone.” The tears pushed back at her eyes again, but she held them in. 

I'm scared of nothing. 

“I-it was all my fault. I tried, I really did—but I’d lost all of you a-and Toñito…I…I couldn’t save anyone. I was too late.” 

She bit at her lip, unable to look away from the cup in her hands. Beside her, Tío Bruno knocked rapidly on the wood of the table, sending miniature rippling shock waves resonating through the surface of her tea. 

“That’s…that really is a doozy, kid.” 

She nodded. 

“Have…have you had that dream before?”

She hesitated, then nodded again. 

“How many times?” he whispered. 

She opened her mouth, but then closed it again without answering. 

She used to have the dream almost every night, in those first couple months after Casita fell. Thankfully, the well-earned fatigue that dragged her into bed after a day of building and working would sometimes lead her into a dreamless sleep. But if she did dream, it was of Casita falling. The details would change, the order of events shift, but key elements remained–her home lost, her family lost, the fault squarely resting on her shoulders. 

She thought moving back into the finished home would help, and it had, a little. The dream would only come to haunt her maybe once a week, surprising her just as she’d been lulled into a false sense of security by several nights of its absence. 

Now, though, she rarely had the dream. Once a month, twice at the most. But when she did have it, she had a hard time shaking it. She’d sometimes read or sew or just go for a walk around the balcony of Casita, taking deep breaths as she went and trying to focus on tiny details around her, like Luisa had once told her to do. Sometimes she could fall back asleep. She never wanted to, but sometimes she still could. 

But this time…with Toñito. It was different. That had never happened before.

“A lot, I guess,” she finally whispered back. 

“Ah, kid,” he said, his voice heavy. 

Mirabel took in a quick breath and picked up her tea, spinning the cup back and forth between her palms to dispel the sudden anxious energy in her arms. She drew up her shoulders, trying to pull back from the heaviness in her own chest.

“But not as much now!” she chirped, willing some levity into her voice. She pushed back the hood and sat up straighter. “Only once in a while now, so it’s getting better. Really, you don’t have to worry, Tío, I know…I know it’s just a dream.” 

She looked up at him with a smile, but it grew strained when she saw his face. His mouth was a tight, thin line, his brows pulled together, wholly unconvinced by her efforts. His eyes didn’t flit away from her this time. 

“You haven’t told anyone, have you.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I don’t need to, I’m fine, really.” 

“Mira, that—" he pointed a twitching finger toward the balcony "—that didn’t seem fine.”

“I’m fine,” she urged, her voice more pleading than confident. He continued to stare at her, his mouth tightening even more. She tilted her head up slightly and held his gaze, something in her feeling oddly defiant. He sighed and looked away, no match for her resolve. 

“Look, kid, I just, I want you to know—,” he paused, his words seemingly caught before they could come out. She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly, but he just pulled in his lips and then blew out a puff of air. 

Tío Bruno was never the best at getting his words out, especially when he was unsure, but she suddenly wondered if this had anything to do with the vision he refused to tell her about, and her stomach clenched just a little. 

Bruno growled softly in frustration and knocked out a pattern on the table, knock knock knock knock knock, ending with one exasperated knock to his head. Mirabel softened her expression and tried to wait patiently, just like he had for her just a moment before. She briefly considered giving him his ruana back, for reassurance, but then Bruno took a breath and tried again.

“I-I want you to know that you…you don’t have to be lonely. A-and if you are ever feeling lonely, just, just don’t be…anymore. You don’t have to. Yaknow—b-be lonely.”

Mirabel tensed at his words. “I’m not lonely,” she replied, a little too quickly. “I have everyone, la famila, Abuela, Mamá, Pa. I have you.”

“Good,” he nodded, though he seemed a bit dejected, as if he hadn’t quite made the point he wanted to. “I’m glad…I’m glad you know. That you’ve got everyone, because you do, you do, we’re all here for you, kid. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” she assured him, a bit confused. He was agitated, as if he still had something more to say. “I know, Tío. Really.”

Bruno sighed and looked down into his tepid tea, as if there was something in there was looking for. She glanced at him one last time before returning to her own tea, taking a longer drink now that the liquid had cooled. 

He was acting so strange, and if she thought about it, he had been for a while. He’d been overly cautious around her, worried and hovering. Sometimes she'd catch him looking at her like something about her made him incredibly sad. Sure, part of that could just be counted off as classic Tío Bruno but…something told her it wasn’t. 

It had to be the vision. It had all started then, that day back in the forest, months before.

She tightened her grip on her mug. It took all of her self control not to ask him about it. She knew he had boundaries that she had to respect when it came to his gift, she’d learned that the hard way. She knew that if she was supposed to know, he’d tell her. 

He’d tell her, right?

“Tío, if you have something you want to say, you can just say—”

“I thought you’d died,” he blurted out, far too loud. Mirabel set down her cup and looked at him, her breath held. Her stomach clenched even tighter and she suddenly felt the fear from her dream, almost completely gone, return in full force. Bruno was staring at the table, his hands gripping the cup in front of him so tightly she actually worried for a moment he might break it. 

“W-when Casita fell, last year. I-I got myself out, and then I looked back and I saw…I saw you. And then, and then, and then, the tower, my tower…Mirabel, I thought you’d been crushed, and it was all my fault. I’d sent you off to Isabela, and, and put this stupid idea in your head that all of this was somehow up to you to fix, and there you were, right where I’d sent you, like a coward, while I ran and hid. I—” 

He stopped and took in a sharp breath. 

"I always run and hide," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Mirabel was frozen to her seat. The fear that he was somehow talking about the vision was rapidly fading, replaced by a void of swirling incomprehensible thoughts. She’d never heard him talk about that day, that almost-forgotten moment when they'd locked eyes right before everything came crashing down around her. 

Tío Bruno looked up at her, his eyes pleading and pained. 

“Mira, I-I will never let that happen again. I-I will never send you off to go at it alone, when someone should be there with you—w-when I should be there with you.” 

As the initial shock of his words began to wear off, her chest began to burn fiercely. She had no idea why, but as she suddenly understood what he was trying to say, the feelings flooding her were so convoluted, rising all at once from some long ignored part of her heart, that it was absolutely overwhelming. She felt the tears start up again, but this time she couldn’t stop them from falling. 

Bruno cringed distressingly and reached out to grab a corner of the ruana, wiping at her face clumsily and smearing her cheeks with sand and tears. He put his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly. 

“You…you saved me, Mirabel. In so many ways. I don’t think you even know—” he shook his head, started again. “You don’t have to do everything alone anymore, okay? I won’t let that happen again. W-when I was a kid, I didn’t have a dad around to, you know, because…because…of, well, everything, so I always wished—I mean, I-I know what it's like to-to-to…A-AND I know you have a Pa! A wonderful, amazing Pa, and I-I don’t ever want to get in the way there—I mean…I-I’m not trying to—Urghf.” Bruno blew out a raspberry in frustration, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with a bright desperation, imploring. “Look, kid, I’m, I’m not the best, at-at well, at anything, but, but I’m here! And I’m not going anywhere, not this time. Whatever you need, okay? I’m…I’m here. Right here.” 

She nodded fervently and reached up to grip his forearms. As another wave of tears began to fall, she pulled him forward into a crushing hug, glasses pressing firm against her nose as she buried her face into the curve of his shoulder. He had to quickly drop down a foot to keep from falling off his stool, but he regained his balance and leaned wholeheartedly into the embrace. 

“Just, just promise me you won’t let yourself be alone, okay?” he whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Don’t…don’t hide yourself away from everyone. You won’t gain a thing from that, really, b-believe me. I…well, I know.”

She nodded again into his nightshirt and gripped him even tighter.

 “Okay. I promise, Tío.” 

He hummed a relieved sound, putting a gentle hand to the back of her head and cradling it there for a moment. Then with one final squeeze, he let her go. 

As she sat back, he reached out and tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear, then patted her cheek gently. She smiled, surprised at the uncharacteristic gesture, but touched nonetheless. It reminded her of something Mamá would do.

With that, as suddenly as his vulnerable outburst had appeared, it was tucked nervously away. Tío Bruno fidgeted awkwardly in his seat and turned back to his cup, running his finger around the rim. Mirabel cleared her throat and swiped at her eyes, wiping away the last of the tears. He’d been right, about sharing her fear—she did feel…lighter, somehow. 

“So," she asked with a final sniff, "why were you down here in the middle of the night?” She suddenly perked up in realization. “Did–did you know I would…?”

“No, no,” he said, brushing away the idea with a wave of his hand. “I, uh, I have—I mean had, had a headache, and it was keeping me up, so I decided to get some fresh air. Worked out though, huh?"

"A headache? Tío are you avoiding your gift again?" The lingering thickness of her voice did nothing to soften the accusation.

"No! No, I…uh, well maybe, sort of yes."

"Why?" she cried out in exasperation. "You know what it does to you and—wait, is that what all that sand was from the other day? In your room? Is something happening with your gift?!"

"Ay, Ay, tranquila, mija, don't get all worked up again, alright?" he begged, wincing. "Please, no more crying." 

"I'm not crying." She groused, and she made a more concerted effort to swallow back the tears that were again pushing to the surface. She really did need to get a hold of herself. What was the matter with her?

"I am upset to hear that you're in pain for no good reason," she added grumpily, swiping again at her cheek. He frowned, his eyebrows drawing in mild offense.

"No good—a-alright, look, i-i-if you must know, Ms. Pushy,…yes, the sandy-ness you saw the other day was from…struggling…with my gift. I-I guess you could say I had a bad dream, too. A vision-dream. It's a whole thing, like a nightmare with a headache, covers my bed in sand. Bleh. Makes it impossible to get comfortable after, so, so, I was just…out. Getting some fresh air."

Mirabel watched him quietly. She didn't like the sound of that, not one bit. His room had been in total chaos when she'd seen it, and he'd looked just awful. A 'vision-dream' that caused that much mess must have been—to borrow Tío's words—a doozy. 

“Alright then," she challenged, "your turn. What was in your dream?”

Bruno sputtered into his tea. “Nah, nah, it was nothing,” he replied as he reburied his face in his cup. He managed to take a drink and then sighed. “Just a vision that really won’t quit, that’s all.”

Mirabel frowned. “That sounds like avoiding to me. And if you're getting headaches, too? I don't like this at all.”

"I'm not avoiding them. Not all the way, anyway. I'll have you know, I've been using my gift on purpose! In other ways. I’ve just seen enough of this one, particular vision, is all. I’ve seen it plenty. Maybe the miracle is on the fritz or something…or not! Or not. Um…sometimes this just, just happens. My old brain gets stuck on some future and doesn’t want to let go.” He knocked at his skull. “I’m okay, though, kid, really. It’s nothing disastrous, so I just…need to wait it out. Eh, iiit’ll go away.” He waved his hand beside his head as if he was chasing it away as they spoke. 

Mirabel hummed petulantly. “Well, you know your gift better than anyone, but…” she began, and he winced in anticipation of her unsolicited advice. 

She paused and carefully softened her voice. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“All I’m saying is that maybe you’re missing something. If the miracle won’t stop sending you this same vision…maybe you just need to look at it differently. You know, a new perspective.”

He nodded without looking at her. She sighed and dropped the subject. He would tell her if he needed her help. He knew the offer always stood. He knew he didn't have to be lonely, either.

Mirabel sighed at the bottom of her empty cup. She had no idea what time it was, but she did know it was seriously late. Tomorrow was quickly becoming today, and she was going to be exhausted. Despite his best intentions, Osvaldo was never an easy visit. She should really get some rest. 

“Well, then. It's late. I guess it’s time to go back to bed,” she stated dryly, and the knot in her stomach tightened at the thought. Though I’d really rather not, she added in a low murmur, more to the air than to anyone in particular. 

Bruno looked up and frowned at her as she grabbed his empty cup and took it with hers to the sink. The clink of the cups in the basin rang out with glum finality. 

“Then we won’t,” Bruno said suddenly, and she turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. He was staring at her as if he'd suddenly had some remarkable revelation about the whole situation.

“What?”

“You don’t want to go back to sleep…well, then we won’t.” 

“What?” she asked again. “That’s not a solution, Tío.”

“It’s not a good solution, but it is a solution.”

She laughed and shook her head. She couldn’t stay up all night, she’d already be useless enough as it was now. 

“Come on, why not?" he argued. "You got somewhere to be in the morning?”

She rolled her eyes at him. His usual half-joking argument. He was referring to their tradition of morning tea, but this time she did in fact have somewhere to be. She had to meet with Osvaldo to discuss the supplies for the surprise party, bright and early. A scheduling decision she was now regretting.

"Actually, I do. I have a…. meeting… at seven." Smooth, she thought, internally rolling her eyes.

"Well, that's what coffee is for, right?"

"Tío, it's like one in the morning," she replied. "You're crazy."

He scrambled up from his seat and rounded the kitchen island, pointing a finger high in the air. 

"Perhaps to be too practical is madness," he quoted grandly. She recognized that one. Don Quixote? She bit her lip. 

"Didn't he die in the end of that book?"

"Look, Mirabel, you've been making the responsible choice, what's best for everyone else, since you were five," he urged, his voice oddly serious. His words nudged at something tight in her heart. 

"Do what you want for once, instead of what you have to do," he continued more gently. "I'm your crazy uncle, I-I-I think…I think maybe I'm supposed to give you crazy advice like that. A-a new perspective." 

She fiddled with the edge of the ruana and mulled over his words. Do what you want. What did she want? She didn’t even know. She didn't want to go back to her dark and lonely room, that's for sure. Maybe she was just tired, but she somehow couldn't think of an argument to his unorthodox logic.

“Okay," she said reluctantly. "Okay. No sleeping. So then, oh wise uncle, what do we do instead?”

He scratched at his chin. "D'you like cards?"

—

"Sevens," Tío Bruno said. 

She squinted at her cards. "Uh…no. Go fish."

Tío Bruno leaned forward and glanced at the cards in her hand. She was sitting on the scratchy woven rug at his feet en la sala—an exercise in mild discomfort in an effort to keep herself awake. Her back was against his chair, so all he had to do was look down to get a full view of every single one of her cards…but they'd abandoned all reason long ago. They were on their third round of the game, and she was starting to lose her fight against fatigue. 

Bruno reached down and pulled a seven from her hand with more flourish than necessary, placing it in his own. 

"Oh, sorry," she muttered, stifling a yawn. "Didn't see it there."

"Mmmhmm, your turn."

"Um," she squinted at her cards again, leaning her head against his knee. "Nines?"

"Ve a pescar," he replied. Go fish. 

She could have sworn she instructed her hand to reach out and draw a card from the deck, but in groggy disorientation, she realized Bruno was instead carefully pulling all her cards from her slack grip and setting them on the table in front of her. She was clearly losing the battle against sleep.

"I-I'm awake," she slurred in protest. "Elevens." 

"Okay, kid," he laughed. "It was a valiant effort, but maybe it's time to head to bed."

"No! No sleep! Practical madness!" She swatted away his hand as it reached down to help her up and snuggled closer against his leg instead, pulling the warm, blanket-like ruana around her and adjusting her head more comfortably on his knee. "I just need to rest my eyes for, like, a minute …"

Stubbornly cocooned against the faulty wisdom of sleeping any length of time in her lean-to position on the floor, she let herself begin to drift off again. 

After a quiet minute of stillness, she felt Tío Bruno shift and carefully place his hand on her head, uncertainty evident in the tentative twitching of his fingers. She tipped her head back into his palm, managing to crack one sleep-blurred eye open just long enough to flash him a small smile. At that, his hand rested heavier against her hair, relaxing with obvious relief that she hadn't flinched or brush him away, like he probably expected.  

Mirabel was snug in the weight of the ruana, and Tío Bruno's heavy hand was like the safety of an anchor to shore, but she could still feel a dream lapping at the edge of her consciousness as the depths of sleep began to take hold. She pulled back from it warily, still tender from the nightmare. She frowned and squeezed her eyes tighter, trying feebly to clear her mind and shift away into dreamless rest instead. 

But then, quite unexpectedly, Bruno's scratchy voice began to murmur down to her, breaking through the shallow murk of her dozing sleep. She tensed involuntarily in surprise. 

Is he…singing? she thought groggily. He is singing…

She held as still as she could, willing herself awake to witness this strange boldness from her normally painfully timid Tío. As if on cue, Bruno seemed to hesitate, perhaps sensing her alertness. But then, ever so carefully, the hand on her head lifted and he slowly began to pull at strands of her hair, brushing them away from her face and tucking each gently behind her ear. He resumed the lullaby, a little louder this time.

The broken melody was slow and lilting, resonating and low. It reminded her of a hymn, but not any hymn she'd heard before. The words were not quite comprehensible in their soft murmur, but something about them held the shape of…hope, maybe, or solace. He was interspersing his scratchy singing with humming, as if he couldn’t quite remember all the words, but the effect was a soothing blend of sound that was tender and so genuinely loving in its imperfection.

As the moments passed, sweet and soft and safe, she found the tender combination of her Tío's voice and his hand brushing back her hair made it almost impossible to continue to resist the pull of sleep. Gradually, she let his lullaby ease her into a burdenless slumber, almost like she was six and not sixteen. Like…she half-realized before drifting off completely…like, perhaps, she’d long needed.

Read the rest of La Traes on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38318872/chapters/95750440

#Encanto #bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #Encanto fanfic #tio bruno #my writing #la traes

[weirwitch]

thank u for the tags @thenn & @huramuna!

1. How many works do you have on ao3 (or masterlist)? - none currently, but i’ve been focusing on two wips as of late!! i’ll be cross-posting them on archive of our own, wattpad, fanfiction.net, and here sometime soon.

2. What’s your total ao3 word count? - ^

3. What fandoms do you write for? - mainly a song of ice and fire/game of thrones/house of the dragon. i have some ideas floating around my noggin for star wars and harry potter, but i’m doubtful they’ll ever be posted

4. Top five fics by kudos - none until i get off my procrastinating tushie and excavate my fics from the drafts

5. Do you respond to comments? - every single one bc i fear my body yearns for validation like water...

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? - definitely my wip set during the dance of the dragons, very tentatively named moth to a flame 🤭

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? - i’d refer to it as bittersweet > happy, but i’d say my agot wip, witching hour

8. Do you get hate on fics? - i have not and i pray i never do

9. Do you write smut? - i have not... yet 😈

10. Craziest crossover? - feeling so vanilla rn saying no to all of these questions, but i have not partaken

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? - unfortunately 😵‍💫

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? - i haven’t, but i’m definitely open to that once i’ve posted!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? - not for one singular fic, but i am working on an asoiaf series of connected fics with my bffie @thenn! it's called the dream for dawn 🌄

14. All time favorite ship? - definitely maerwynn/pate/jon, aka the main ship of witching hour 🤭 they’re poly (bc jon snow is a bi king) and my fun way of subverting the love triangle trope!

5. What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? - probably my jedi: fallen order wip, sol invictus ☀️ the main oc is a force-sensitive bounty hunter whose name is jeska sol, and she’s paired with inquisitor au!cal kestis bc that has always been very sexy to me

16. What are your writing strengths? - felt too Cocky to answer this myself, so i relied on @thenn (as per usual)... according to miss dani, my ocs and lore changes/additions feel unique but still merge well with canon, and i tone-match grrm’s writing style very well (“u could ghostwrite twow and ados and no one would notice”). she also says house weir is easily her favourite original house. yes i have tears in my eyes, next question please

17. What are your writing weaknesses? - dani says my downfall is continuously writing the same 10 chapters over and over again bc i think they’re no good. and she would be right

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? - all good, as long as a translation is included!!

19. First fandom you wrote in? - this just unlocked the deepest, darkest memory... my friends and i used to write pokémon fics together in the first grade. we'd even print them off using the school printer and disperse them to the class. i wish i could read them 🥲i can still see the stapled pages and the comic sans font in my mind's eye, and i KNOW there was a dramatic arc of ash cheating on misty with may

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? - definitely witching hour, coming soon to a tumblr near you 😝

tagging: @starkladies @vecnacreels @cardeegans @jennyofoldflowers @sainteda

#my musings #tag game