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carraville · 6 years

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year in fic review (2017)

using the wonderful @neyvenger ‘s template! everyone should do this i wanna read <3

Year at a glance: Total number of completed stories: 25 (26 if u count hockey) Total word count: 146929

Overall Thoughts:

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? LOTS MORE it’s probly bc i wrote a hella lot while jumping from train to train traveling all of Europe, and probly bc i gave up on school by mid-sem last year, and probly bc the only thing i can do at work that looks like i’m still doing work when i’m not is write

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? The fuCKING GERMS i blame it on germs like i 100% would never have thought i’d write 16k of thomasfips who does that also joemilly??? but i luff

What’s your own favorite story of the year? i dont have one i love and hate them all equally... i guess strangeways here we come just bc i took so damn long to write it and tbf i didn’t write a lot of carraville this year so it was kind of like my One and Only

Did you take any writing risks this year?

writing a lot of people I didn’t know how to write, writing about a lot of Big Things (particularly on the bridge between starshine and clay) that i wasn’t sure about, writing a lot of aus i’d never done before, writing ??? PORN???? even tho ive never banged anyone in my life

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? all 12 months of football prompts! hopefully! and writing more new ships and meeting more people and reading good fic also finally doing all my historical aus bc if there’s one thing i’ve learnt this year, it’s not to give a shit what other people want and just write what u want even if no one is going to read it xoxo

From my past year of writing, what was…

My best story of this year: from a writing perspective i think an die nachgeborenen just bc it was the most? complete, i guess? and plotty? like if i changed the names and pretended it wasn’t creepy i could probably send it for rejection

My most popular story of this year: strangeways, here we come i guess cos i published it around that time the r*dditors were sneaking around lmao

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: the wonder of my world cos it’s niche and manc but!!!!!!! i love my mancs

Most fun story to write: fuckin. 30 Shades Of Red

Story with the single sexiest moment: The Anonymous Present That Appeared For Sab’s Birthday That Doesn’t Exist

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: Again, The Anonymous Present that Doesn’t Exist

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: I’m pretty set when it comes to characters, I guess, because I only like writing when I understand them, but maybe Aubade bc I’d never written Iker till then and I really liked how it turned out

Hardest story to write: summer sang in me a little while bc it was a) wrestling with a Lot of Football feelings that I didn’t know how to talk about, b) wresting with trashbag xabi alonso and what I thought of him vs. what other people thought of him, c) writing ships and people I had 0 idea about

Biggest surprise: i like germs! wtf

Highlights + Wrap-up: ok I TRIED TO PICK DIFFERENT ONES FROM ALL FIC

Favorite Opening Lines (3):

when the world was ours

There's a crunch. There's a crunch and it's over.

the setting sun is sweetest last

When all the hands have been shaken and hugs exchanged someone presses a microphone into his hands and he fumbles, not quite sure how to put what he's feeling into words. Eventually he settles for something about looking towards the final on Saturday and he sees David from the corner of his eye shaking his head, almost as if to say: god, Gaz, how do you manage to make everything about United when this should be about you.

In the end, it's simple.

cheesed to meet you

Philipp calls Thomas first, because he always calls Thomas first.

"I didn't do it," Thomas says immediately, with the kind of well-practiced plausibility that only comes from doing the things he says he hasn't done.

Favorite Closing Lines (4):

yes, yes, we are magicians

You jog back to the halfway line. Your face must be shining under the lights, and you wonder if mum's in the crowd, smiling. Let's go to Wembley some day. Rooney rolls the ball to you and you're off again, no marcus's ball scribbled into the patchy leather, no divots and pot-holes in a sandy, well-worn pitch.

You're nineteen years old and going to the Euros.

Every blade of grass here is the exact same height.

in this story we belong to ourselves

Liverpool is. A river that runs before two men who used to have numbers on their backs and now have a house no longer empty. A stream of memories and breaking apart and going again. The Mersey, quiet, grey, flowing gently through the Narrows and out into the great big sea, ever so slightly out of reach.

Variation IX

He says I've missed you, mate.

I say You know, I thought you might.

He says I hope you missed me too.

I say Well of course, otherwise where would I go for Christmas this year?

And then he starts laughing and I start laughing and we laugh and laugh and don’t stop until he kisses me again.

yes, there will be song

You step back and turn, take the steps two at a time. Somewhere outside Anfield there's a man with a shirt that's as as red as the names on the back. He's got a scarf around his neck like a docker, and he presses his face to the Shankly gates like he's kissing a trophy. Make us dream, he whispers, a secret he's never told anyone else, his heart heavy and his eyes tired but his body trembling with a belief too full for words. Above him, the sky is golden.

Favorite Lines From Anywhere (5):

strangeways, here we come

It's weak against Paraguay, it's tired against Paraguay, but the England fans are singing and they have to listen. Countries are not clubs. This sinks deeper than loyalty, at once more insular and more ubiquitous than Liverpool or United could ever be. There are little flags hung up in Sainsbury's, strangers with their arms round each other in pubs, the radios of an electronics store tuned in to Radio 5 Live. Come on England. Bandied about like a mantra, a swear word, a secret password offered by old hands who brace themselves for more disappointment with a nudge and a wink. England always - a host of words go here, crash out , fuck up , lose , but -

Believe rises above them all. Maybe it's delusional. Maybe it's arrogant. Beckham takes a free kick that delights and astonishes the way his free kicks do and it ends up in the back of the net. Every four years St George goes back up and people who still remember '66 are bought a pint, and for every we'll go out at the group stages there's an underlying thread of god help me, we might win this yet, because what is hope if not alive?

Come on England. The cup awaits you and is yours.

sekrit yuletide fic

In his dreams he doesn't leave. Salvador Iglesias Sr. doesn't die and Chava doesn't become a dickhead. He keeps the number on his back and the band around his arm. He doesn't cheat on Ximena, but he tells her, and they part as best friends. In his dreams they win the championship. And again the next year, and again the one after that. Each time Potro scores the winning goal and Moi runs to him to celebrate and Potro kisses him for the whole world to see, over and over, until their lips are numb and all they know are themselves.

summer sang in me a little while

Why are you still here? you ask him. It is easier that way. He turns to you, dark circles under his eyes, and doesn't reply. Only reaches over to tangle his calloused fingers in your hair, rests his forehead against yours. This time you are the one who leans forward to kiss him, immersing yourself in the warmth of his skin. You taste his blood. You taste the salt and iron of his blood.

the wonder of my world

What makes a club? Love, belief, hope - and someone to attach it to, the player everyone grows up watching, whose name is instantly recognisable to the point that you don't have to mention who he plays for next. Who pours his soul into the game and hammers his heart onto the crest. You don't get that kind of player very often. United were lucky to have three.

So here. The last musketeer. He's not looking at the crowd anymore, just the middle distance. Still the thousands sing. Love, belief, hope, and memories. Ryan might never run again but Paul realises that it doesn't matter. It's that he's already run. And in a hundred years from now someone might pull up a grainy youtube video and watch the number eleven on the left wing and fall in love, all over again. The way he was meant to be loved. Ball at his feet. Red.

an die nachgeborenen

"I don't need a plan," Thomas says, like he's talking to a child. "That's the beauty of it. All I have to do is wait and see what happens. It's only – " he smiles again, wan, quiet. "Well. You know."

The refrain arcs, jagged, through Philipp's head.

"I promised you wouldn't die."

"I won't." Thomas stands up, leaves a hand on Philipp's shoulder. His palm is still warm. "I'm invincible, didn't I tell you?"

And with a single, chipper whistling note, he hits the exit button and slips out, the door closing immediately behind him with a gentle click .

Fic Goals for 2018:

i wna write gifts that people will like :> aka MORE NICHE BULLSHIT

#my fic #self indulgent trash xoxo

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eorumverba · 6 years

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Hi! The Angel fic is seriously stunning. Reading it, softness and warmth is present throughout. I cried a bit, more sensitive due to circumstances; this doesn't mean I wouldn't have cried otherwise, but it lend another layer of emotion to it all, a more personal one. This is probably one of my fav works of yours. You could grasp the differences in the relationship with Jjong and each member, and also between the rest of the members themselves. (1/2)

I’d like to tell you which interaction I liked the most for each of them, but I can’t quite pin point it now. I’ll be reading it again in the future, so hopefully after a few times I get a better idea. Or it may be that I won’t ever decide at all. Overall, I loved the writing and I’m very thankful you chose to share it with us. As a side note…(3/3 next, oops!)

The line “what do you think it means to be strong, little bee?” reminded me of a book I picked up during holidays. Everyone’s a Aliebn when ur a Aliebn too by Jomny Sun. It’s such a cute simple book, but the thoughts behind dialogue and style choices are much more deep. Its an easy and short read, but I’ve gone through it a couple of times and I’m still finding new things and understanding others that I had glanced over before. I thought you might find it as enjoyable as I did~ again, thank you!

ahhhh this message was so ;;;;;;;first i hope your crying wasnt Bad crying;;;; but im very glad u liked it ♡♡♡ if u do figure out your favorite interactions pls send !! my favorite is…i think #4? just the ‘veins of starshine’..i rly like that image . and just any part that compares jong and space/stars, but…overall, i think it’s my favorite fic by me as well. the line you chose though is rly interesting though, and not even one i’d really planned out to have that kind of meaning? it was just the first question in my mind that didn’t sound too silly, but i like the meaning you put on it.as for the book !!! i will definitely try and read it when i have time !! which might not be terribly soon because im Rly going to Not do any all nighters this semester like i am now so !! as soon as things calm down, i’ll read it ♡ thank u for the rec !! n thank u so so so much for reading and commenting ♡♡♡

#asks #anonymous #dont be an architecture major if u like sleep !!!! thts al i have t say

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anyway-i-love-vanderwood · 7 years

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I really love your writing and now I'm pan for vanderwood i hope you're happy >:3 If it's no trouble, could you please write rfa + minor trio reacting to a usually hyper and happy mc feeling really down (because they feel misunderstood or got triggered)? I hope I don't bother you with that request, I could just really use some love and care from the baes ^^;; Love and hugs, have a wonderful day!

✿ *cracks knuckles* Boy, it’s been awhile, huh? I polished off my finals a few days ago, and while I won’t be churning headcanons out at a super fast rate, I thought it was time I give this blog some TLC!

Yoosung

His brain goes into terror-alert mode when you don’t tackle-hug him the minute he gets home from work. Living with you is sort of like living with a hyperactive puppy, and his first thought is, oh god, are you dead? Did you slip and fall in the shower? Did aliens kidnap you and are now experimenting on your lifeless body? W h e r e a r e y o u.

The answer to “where are you” is “in the bedroom, having a lie-down”. He breathes a sigh of relief when you turn over and look at him, but still, that weak way you smile as you say hey leaves him concerned.

He immediately asks you what’s wrong. Are you feeling sick? Should he get you anything? Do you have a cold? Have you been eating enough fruit? Have you…–??

This manages to make you laugh a bit, and you sit up enough so you can pull him back down to the bed. You just want a hug, you say. And some comfort.

Yoosung is happy to oblige. After all, he’s a vet, isn’t he? He’ll always take care of you, his adorable little angel.

Zen

When Zen finds you staring absently out the window, his first cheer-up attempt is to call you by every pet name he knows. Starshine! Sugardrop! Love! Darling! Gooey-sweetie-snuggle-bottom hunie bear!

(you smack him lightly for that last one.)

Next, he tries every pick up line he knows. He compares your beauty to the moon shining on the lake, he recites poetry, he even sings you a little sonnet, and when he finally gets you to smile a little, he asks you what’s wrong.

(he wanted to make whatever it was feel a little less fresh before you talked about it, after all.)

He takes you on a motorcycle ride after, since that always helped distract him - though he obeys all the road laws on this one, because his precious, precious blossom is with him right now. He takes you out to one of his special places, and he helps you forget whatever it was that upset you.

It’s hard to be unhappy when the warm wind is on your face and a handsome man is at your side.

Jaehee

She finds you in the closet of the bakery, and you apologize, because you wanted to be better before she found you. You didn’t want to bother her. You know that you’re supposed to be the happy one, the cheerful one, the person rooting her on and keeping her sane when the world is building up around her.

She tells you that’s nonsense, brings you a cup of tea and a new cake she’s working on, and asks you to tell her what’s wrong.

Jaehee is so good at listening. She’s careful, attentive, and treats everything you say seriously. She never makes fun of you, or tells you that you’re overreacting or silly.

Jaehee would probably dropkick your problems if she could, but she can’t, so she settles for hugging you, petting your hair gently, before bringing you another drink and some of the flowers from the rosebushes outside.

Jumin

You try to smile at Jumin when he comes home, and you’re doing so well, but then everything cracks apart, your smile falters, and you find you’re sobbing on the couch with a baffled Jumin in the doorway.

He only stands still for a moment. He literally VAULTS OVER THE CHAIR because it is the FASTEST PATH TOO YOU, and if you weren’t emotionally compromised, it would have been hilarious to see this man in a ten-thousand dollar suit act like a college track star.

He basically scoops you up, much like you’re a cat, and he tells you to tell him e v e r y t h i n g. When you say you don’t want to trouble him, you know how much it means to him to have you waiting at home for him, all cheerful and happy, he says that is NONSENSE. It isn’t you being cheerful that makes him happy, it’s you being you that does. And sometimes you’re going to be sad.

And he’s going to make you feel better when you are.

707

Seven knows immediately that your smile is forced. How could he not? He’s faked so many smiles over his years of being alive that he’s become all-too able to recognize the same expression on someone else’s face.

He doesn’t want to force it out of you, so he turns off the lights suddenly, leaving the star-shaped lights you have suspended from the ceiling as the only thing illuminating the room, and then pulls you up to dance.

He twirls you, spins you, is surprisingly graceful with you, despite being a total and complete nerd - though, he was a former secret agent, perhaps dancing came with the job. And you don’t have to pretend, you don’t have to say anything, you just have to… dance.

It helps. And when he holds you, during the ‘slow dance’ portion, you tell him what’s wrong as he rubs your back gently. And then you dance some more, because the world keeps spinning, despite the trials and tribulations you have to undergo.

You reminded Seven that he had a future, and now it’s his turn to remind you that you have one too.

V sits with you quietly and never blames you, even though you know he’s been through so much already and shouldn’t have to deal with your shit. You should be happy! You should be cheerful! You ARE genuinely happy and cheerful most of the time, taking him on dates and bringing the world to him, but today you just… can’t.

You can’t. You feel guilty, but you can’t.

He tells you that it is not your fault. You are human. You are allowed to be sad. You tell him all these things, and the same applies to you, too. He bops your nose with his finger when you try to protest, and you lean against him, letting him hold you and gently rub your shoulder.

After awhile, he brings out his phone, and he shows you all of the cute animal photos he’s taken over the years. It’s hard for him now, but he has so many memories captured on his various memory cards, and he shares them with you in a quiet room and a fond voice.

Unknown (Saeran)

Saeran doesn’t know how to comfort you, so he makes a dozen pancakes using the container of Bisquick you have into the cabinet and then shoves one into your face like a burrito.

“What was that for,” you ask, after you’ve managed to chew and swallow, and he just puts another directly into your mouth, effectively using it as a fluffy batter gag.

You eat that one too, staring directly at him the entire time.

“Are you feeling better,” he asks once you’re finished, and you reply that you’re mostly just really confused.

One of the websites he’d read said that making pancakes for people was an expression of love, so he figured that would be enough to make you feel better, right?

You eat fruit to get better from a cold, so love should help you get better when you’re sad… right?

Right, you say, because Saeran is a prickly moron, but somehow his deranged antics make it hard to stay depressed.

Vanderwood

Vanderwood is really bad at this gooey, lovey-dovey shit, so when they notice you don’t have quite as much pep in your step as usual, they aren’t really sure what to do. They do know, however, that they should do something, so they decide to tell you a joke.

“Knock knock,” they say, and you do a bit of a double-take, because Vanderwood isn’t really the type. But you’re intrigued enough that it momentarily distracts you from what’s making you gloomy, so you ask, “Who’s there?”

“Etch.”

“…Etch… who?”

“Bless you,” they say, in a perfectly flat voice, and you laugh at how stupid it is.

“Knock knock,” they say again, hands in their pockets, and you’re delighted at this point.

“Who’s there?”

“Seven.”

“Seven who?”

They clear your throat. “Seven, you motherfucker, you know I don’t speak Arabic, so open your goddamn door.”

(You cover your face and snort.)

“Knock knock,” they say a third time, and you notice they look a bit shyer now.

“Who’s there?”

“Al.”

“Al who?”

“Al…” They rub their mouth, averting their eyes. “….Al give you a kiss if you open the door.”

You, sufficiently cheered up by this ridiculous display, peck them on the lips and thank them for being wonderfully embarrassing.

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