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retrievablememories · 3 years

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matched | ten (m)

title: matched pairing: alien!ten x black!reader genre: sci-fi, angst, fluff, romance, smut summary: the quest for love leads you to a new dating app with a slight twist—and straight into the inbox of someone who’s light-years out of your usual dating pool. word count: 9.7k warnings: familial conflict, strained parental relationship, mentions of cheating, prejudice/discrimination based on species, body modifications/alien biology, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), dom!ten, photography during sex, cumshot, squirting, some spanking a/n: as always, i lose all impulse control whenever i get a ten request so i have finished this sooner than i expected

i decided to lean more into the romance plotline than stress too much over the realism of the science-fiction elements with this fic, so there are some inaccuracies/impossibilities...but that’s fiction for you 🙃

AM 2074 (After Migration)

You are lonely.

Your last breakup did not end well, to say the least, and you haven’t dated for a while since then. It seemed like a smart move—a safe one—to shun all romantic relationships until you felt ready again. At the beginning, you were glad to be alone for a while, to regroup and rediscover yourself worrying about another person’s opinions on everything you did. To not have to deal with someone else’s drama.

The toll of not having companionship is gradually getting to you, though. Even if your last relationship was a mess more often than it wasn’t, you still long for those good moments, like going on night dates on the weekends and sharing pillowtalk into long hours of the early morning. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed those things until all the emotions of it crashed down on you at once.

Your friend Malika claims to have a solution for your loneliness. Now, sitting at this outdoor cafe, you’re simultaneously eager and hesitant to hear what she has to propose, knowing her track record for silly plots.

With twinkling eyes, she looks at you and says, “You should try a dating app.” She clasps her hands together and puts them on the table like she’s made a grand announcement. You absorb her words for a few moments, looking out at the street across from you and watching cars—some hovering above the asphalt, some driven autonomously, and many still with human drivers—pass by.

You eventually sigh, your shoulders slumping. “That’s the big solution you called me out here for? People have been using dating apps for decades, that’s nothing new.”

“Exactly! The fact that they’re still popular even in 2074 is proof that they work, Y/N. You can put yourself out there and talk to dozens of guys without even meeting them in person. If one connection doesn’t work out, you don’t have anything to lose, and you don’t have to see the guy ever again.”

“Maybe I’ll lose my sweet time and patience during the process, though.”

Malika shakes her head and types something into her hologram pad, then holds it up for you to see. The hologram displays a dating app called matched—it reminds you of what Tinder was supposedly like before it became eclipsed by more advanced platforms, though that happened years before you were even born. “This one is kinda new, but it’s gotten popular fast and has good success rates. I’ve tried it before and met some nice guys. Give it at least one chance before you hate on it.”

“Ugh, I don’t know...there are always so many weirdos hanging out on those apps. What if I meet someone who keeps a collection of severed alien tentacles in an icebox in their house? Like that one guy who showed up on the news?”

“...Really?” Malika rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Stop getting in your own way and just take a risk for once.”

You shake your head at her optimism. “I’ll do it because I know you won’t leave me alone about it, but don’t expect me to find some great love story on this app.”

Once you download the app and start making an account, it becomes pretty obvious that this isn’t just a regular dating platform.

Choosing your gender and age preferences is normal enough, and you pass through those screens quickly until you get to one that gives you two new options.

➤ Species Preference ❐ Human ❐ Extraterrestrial

Whoa. Aliens? An alien-friendly dating app?

You weren’t overly familiar with the mechanics of dating apps, and you certainly didn’t consider that ones allowing aliens might’ve existed until now. It had been 15 years since the first contact with aliens was established, and a little less than a decade had passed since aliens began migrating to Earth and taking up permanent residence—and vice versa.

Humans had little problem with accepting aliens’ technological adaptations and claiming them as their own, though they were far less welcoming of the aliens themselves. That resulted in strained interactions between the two species, with aliens trying their best to assimilate and humans questioning their every motive. As far as personal relationships went, interspecies mingling between humans and extraterrestrials was still fairly uncommon—something that only people who were considered to be on the fringes of society participated in. There were “normal citizens of society” who built relationships with aliens, but many of them also kept it solely as a kink or fetish to be done only in the dark.

You decide to check both options. It feels a little scary, like diving headfirst into the unknown, but you are open to it either way. You’ve interacted with aliens before, both as kind acquaintances and near strangers, and they’ve always been relatively normal in the grand scheme of things—beings trying to survive and make a life for themselves like anyone else. Certainly not plotting how to take over Earth as many people have speculated. If they really wanted to, they possess the technology to have done that ten times over already.

You take a while trying to come up with a clever bio and spend an even longer time mulling over which pictures of yourself to choose, but you eventually complete your profile.

The first few matches you make are not very successful.

Whether it’s human guys feeding you terrible pickup lines or alien guys who can’t make it past the language barrier—or who ask you to move back with them to their home planet after two days of talking—you don’t see any potential love interests during your first two weeks of using the app.

You’re not sure what kind of skills Malika used to make multiple good matches, but maybe you need to interrogate her so you can sharpen your own. So you decide to do exactly that.

“Don’t give up on it just yet. Just be yourself—which also means not being afraid to cuss someone out if they come at you crazy. Some of these dudes lowkey like the mean girl shit, though, which is kinda weird.” Malika speaks from the shimmering translucent mirage of your hologram pad as you walk through the park one afternoon. She couldn’t make it out to meet you today, but you managed to snatch a moment to talk to her even if it couldn’t be face-to-face. “You probably shouldn’t expect to find a boyfriend in the first few days—”

“Girl, I don't think anyone was expecting that. Duh.”

“I’m saying, just give it time!”

“Okay, but listen. You didn’t tell me it’s also for aliens. Have you dated one before? You never told me!” You lower your voice then, not wanting anyone nearby to eavesdrop on your conversation and hear that part. You feel kinda bad for even thinking that way, but it’s hard to shake the stigma associated with interacting with aliens.

“Yes, and it was the best sex I ever had, but maybe I’ll tell you about that later.”

“Sis. Don’t withhold tea from me!”

“Someday when you’re not literally standing in the middle of the park, okay?” Malika shakes her head, smiling.

“Don’t forget about it, either.”

“I won’t. And you know what to do if you find a guy. I want to be the first to know!”

“Sure, sure. I wouldn’t hold my breath on it, though.”

You decide to spend some more time on the app after that conversation instead of just deleting it like you’d planned to initially. And one day, you get another new match that catches your eye out of the many others.

“Ten? Like the number…?” Besides the interesting name, you immediately see that he’s an extraterrestrial. From the Sommu race, as it says in his bio.

You click on his profile.

You’re a little surprised by how pretty he is, which isn’t to say the other aliens you matched with were all hideous. But he doesn’t have tentacles coming out of his face or two sets of eyes, either. The most noticeable thing about his alienness is his blue skin.

“Likes...dancing, art, music, okay so we have an artist type here...dislikes...fruit. Huh. That’s...interesting.”

The pictures of him on his profile are all deliberately artistic, as in they aren’t just some half-baked selfies he took with a hologram pad. You grow increasingly curious. It’s safe to say he’s either super into himself or just appreciates the art of good photography, and you figure there’s only one way to find out. You decide to take the first step and message him.

➤ Nice pictures :)

You don’t know when or if you’ll get a message back, since he’s not online when you send it, so you try not to get your hopes up too much. Maybe you should’ve tried to come up with something more cool and funny—nice pictures?—but you try to remember Malika’s advice and roll your eyes to yourself. There’s no point in getting stressed over a dude you don’t even know yet.

You eventually get a reply back from Ten.

➤ thank you 🙏 are you into photography too? you have talent for taking beautiful photos

You giggle quietly to yourself; another line, but it’s definitely one of the tamer ones you’ve received. Why not see where this one goes?

The first conversation you have consists mostly of the regular getting-to-know-you talk, such as your personal interests and favorite things. You get him to talk more about his photography hobby, which he’s eager to tell you all about—as well as his penchant for art.

To your optimism, you and Ten quickly get comfortable with each other. You soon forget about all the other potential matches you have, but those don't matter much to you anymore. So far, you’ve connected the most successfully with Ten, which means you’re more than glad to stop spending your time reading boring messages from guys who’ve only pretended to have things in common with you.

Things go so well, in fact, that he asks you to meet in person not long after you begin talking to each other.

For your first meetup, you decide to meet at a park nearby—the same one you’d been walking through the day you were talking to Malika about that very dating app. You and Ten have talked through the hologram pad on multiple occasions, so you’re more reassured that you’re not starting from scratch with some faceless being. Still, the thrill of seeing each other in person for the first time is undeniable.

“Y/N?” You turn your head at the sound of your name, and you see Ten walking towards you.

“Ten!” You give him a smile, waving at him. You feel a little more nervous than you usually would on a date, though you can’t tell if it’s the good kind of nervousness. You mostly chalk it up to not having been out with anyone in a while.

Ten’s just as pretty up close as he was in the photos and on camera, if not even more attractive; he’s breathtaking in the light of the sun. His hair is styled nicely, meticulously-place strands curling over his forehead, and his clothes perfectly outline his slim body. He looks pleased to see you, his lips curving into a coy smile.

“You could’ve given me a warning,” he says as he outstretches his arms to you. You hug him, but not without a questioning glance on your face. He is warm and smells good, like juniper, which almost makes you forget about your question.

“Warned you about what?”

“How you’re even more beautiful in person.” He says this at your ear before pulling away, and it makes the back of your neck bloom with heat.

“Oh, you’re laying it on thick.” You giggle nervously, shifting on your feet.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks.

“Yes, let’s go!”

You leave the park to go to an aquarium nearby, which is the biggest one in the city. You find out quickly that Ten is easily fascinated by the wide range of creatures there. Despite living on Earth for a few years now, he hasn’t seen a lot of them until now.

You walk through the blue-lit hallways together, surrounded by water everywhere you turn. You observe the different animals up close and from far away, reading information about them from the signs beside their tanks.

“What the hell is that?” Ten says through laughter, looking at the squished-up mouth of a stingray as it floats in front of the glass, baring its pale underside to you both.

“It’s a stingray!”

He scrunches his nose up. “It’s ugly. But kinda cute, too…”

You both end up staying at the aquarium longer than you expected, with Ten wanting to see practically every animal they had on display; plus, you got to see some you weren’t familiar with before either.

After visiting the aquarium, you go downtown—which is otherwise known as food truck central, where you can get pretty much anything you’re craving. This area is always quite busy this time of evening, especially on the weekends. Food in hand, you and Ten end up walking through a few of the quieter back streets where there’s not as many people—streets where the closely-packed buildings give way to the grassy yards and paved roads of nearby neighborhoods.

“Should we talk about our families now, or is it too soon?” you say jokingly. “You know, that seems to be the only thing we haven’t mentioned after talking about everything else under the sun.” You’re not entirely sure why you bring this up while knowing your own relationship with your parents isn’t great, but you are curious to hear about Ten’s family.

“I don’t really know mine,” he replies.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You feel a little bad about it, thinking there was definitely a reason why he never mentioned the topic.

Ten looks confused for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. Sommu never form close bonds with their parents or siblings.”

You give him a curious look. “Why not?”

“Well, we aren’t born or raised the human way,” he explains. “Our parents have a bunch of us at once, raise us for the first couple of years, and then go off to reproduce again and continue the population.”

You’re startled at that. “Just for a few years? How do you survive?”

“We age faster...both physically and mentally. We become independent around 4 or 5 years old, and we can live without our parents.”

“That’s...definitely very different.” You try to wrap your mind around that information, though it’s difficult. Even with your not-so-healthy relationship with your parents, you couldn’t imagine having no family whatsoever at such a young age. You also can’t even begin to comprehend what it’d look like to be taking care of yourself at only 5 years old, fast aging or not. “But, you said a bunch at once...how is that possible?”

“We are formed inside things like eggs. It’s not like your form of childbirth. See?” And you become flustered when he lifts his shirt up to show his lack of a belly button, right there in the middle of the street.

“Uh, wow.”

“The human concepts of ‘family’ and ‘relationships’ are...very new to me.” He seems a little embarrassed to admit this. “That’s why I, um, joined a dating app, for more experience...I was told I need to learn to be more…” He searches for the word. “Im...pertinent?”

“...Empathetic?”

“Yeah, that.”

“So, did that come from a previous partner, or…?”

“Yeah, I’ve had two relationships since I’ve been here.” He seems wistful now, maybe a little sad. “They didn’t work out well. Maybe we were too different.” Before the mood can shift too far into negativity, Ten turns to you with a soft smile. “But maybe that’s not the kind of thing you want to hear while we’re on a date.”

You shake your head and smile. “I don’t mind, it’s interesting to know about.” More than interesting. You want to ask him a hundred more things about what his life was like when he first got to Earth. “Anyway, you can never have too many new starts in life. Let’s enjoy this one.”

At the end of your date, Ten walks with you back to your place. It’s almost midnight at this point, with you both walking all the way back from downtown. You’d drawn more than a few skeptical stares over the course of the day, but you both did your best to ignore those and just focus on each other.

“I’m really glad we got to go out today, it was fun,” you say, hugging your arms to yourself to shield against the cool spring breeze.

“I think I haven’t had that much fun in a while,” he agrees. Ten smiles wide then, the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his teeth, and you have to do a double take.

“What—”

“Oh, that. Sometimes I forget everyone doesn’t have this...” And when he sticks his tongue out, you see clearly now that it’s split halfway down the middle. Sort of like how a snake’s would be. “D’you like it?” His expression is wicked when he asks this, and a strange heat sweeps through your body.

“Wow.” You cringe at your lackluster answer, but that’s the only thing you can muster up at the moment, too busy internally questioning yourself. You’ve seen body modders with split tongues in documentaries and on the internet, but it’s never appealed to you like this before, and you don’t know what to do with that new realization.

“It’s okay, it takes some getting used to.” He gives you a smile that might be called innocent by anyone else, but to your eyes it’s quite obvious he’s proud about making you flustered.

“Getting used to...yeah, I’m sure.” There are about 15 different questions you want to ask him about that, too, but you aren’t going there on the first date.

“So...can I expect to see you again?”

“Of course.” You smile again at the hopeful note in his tone. “Just let me know whenever you want to go out again.”

Before Ten leaves, he places a hand on your shoulder and kisses you on the cheek. It’s a simple and short kiss, but it still makes you blush beneath your brown skin.

You wave goodbye to him from your doorstep as he goes, feeling like you’ve finally done something right for the first time in a long time.

You’d taken a chance with dating an extraterrestrial, someone so different from yourself and your species, and you figured it would be a new experience. Obviously. What you did not bet on, however, was the idea that you’d fall for Ten so fast.

After three months of dating exclusively, you feel like you could say you love him, which is frighteningly quick for you; though you don’t tell him this yet.

You’ve decided to bring him to meet your family. The idea frightens you, because your parents have never been very receptive to the aliens’ migration. But you are still holding out some hope that maybe they’ll realize all their assumptions were wrong, and that you’ve found a nice man who you love and who you’re sure loves you just as much. Whether he’s human or not shouldn’t matter.

You manage to set a date when all your schedules match up so you can bring Ten over to your parent’s house. Ten is nervous—more nervous than he was when you went on your first date—which you find a little surprising. You’ve gotten used to him being the one who you can lean on, who always seems to know the right answer.

“Do you think it will go well?” he asks, his tone implying he’s not confident of the answer.

“I hope so.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring and squeeze his hand.

When your parents open the door, there’s visible surprise on their faces. You’d already told them your boyfriend was not human, which drew doubtful responses when you first said it, but they’re acting as if they never knew that information—as if this is the first time they’re seeing an alien, period.

“Um…hi, mom, dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ten says, though his own tone is overly formal, like he doesn’t know how he should speak. “I’m Ten.”

Your parents pause for a few moments longer. Finally, the awkward quiet is broken. “We thought you were just messing,” your dad says, though he steps out of the way to let you both come in, if a bit reluctantly.

“I—no.” You’re uncertain how to respond to that, though you don’t feel optimistic about what it entails. Your mother doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at you and Ten like you’re both strangers who’ve just waltzed in uninvited. She goes back in the kitchen to finish dinner once the door is closed, not saying anything to either one of you, and you already feel a cold pit settling in the bottom of your stomach.

Your dad sits in the living room with you and Ten, and another awkward silence ensues as your dad gives a stiff smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He clasps his fingers together and pulls them apart repeatedly, like they’ll give him the answers for what’s going on.

“This is just a fling, right? Of course you won’t be staying with this ma—” Your dad almost says man but then stutters, thinking maybe the term isn’t appropriate since Ten isn’t human. He makes a vague gesture to fill in the space of the missing word.

“It’s not a fling,” you say, feeling like you’ve had cold water poured down your back. You’re sitting straight and still on the couch, and it’s not comfortable, but you’re too tense to move. Ten is almost equally stiff beside you.

“Y/N, we just want you to make good decisions for yourself.” That’s what your dad says out loud, though the look in his eyes finishes the rest of that sentence: And I don’t think this is a good decision.

“I am,” you insist. “I don’t need to be told that over and over again.”

“Me and Y/N are happy together,” Ten explains, and your dad seems a little shocked that he’s decided to speak.

“Do you truly think you’re what she needs?” your dad asks. You’re not sure what makes you more angry; the question itself, or the fact that he keeps his tone non-accusatory and light, as if he’s only asking something like where do you work? Like the answer doesn’t matter because he’s already made up his mind.

“As long as Y/N wants to keep seeing me, there’s no reason to stop our relationship.”

A sound of displeasure comes from your mother in the kitchen, and your skin prickles. Your dad nods to Ten’s answer, but he does so in a way that conveys he just wants this conversation to be over rather than consider anything that was said.

You deeply regret not leaving straight after that failed discussion, but you soon find out just how bad it can get once you all make it to the dinner table. Your mother is chillingly silent for the first half of the dinner, acting like neither you nor Ten exist, while your dad attempts to make awkward small talk about how things are going.

There comes a point where you can no longer handle the cold sweat and the nerves, and you put your utensils down. Not that you had much of an appetite anyway.

“Why won’t you even talk to me?”

Your mother glares. “You can’t guess? What kind of question is that to ask?”

You falter. You don’t know why she always does this to you. Ask ridiculous rhetorical questions that you both already know the answer to. Now you must sit here and explain why you asked like it isn’t already obvious.

“I’m visiting after I haven’t been here in a while. With my boyfriend. I thought...I don’t know. The least you could do—” Your mother shakes her head at the word “boyfriend,” and you already know everything else you said went in one ear and out the other.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t just stay with Christian?” she interrupts. “He had a decent job, came to see us often, and was NOT an alien.”

“But he cheated on me,” you say, a sickness rising in you.

“That’s what men do sometimes, Y/N. You deal with it and move on. You’re supposed to be strong—fix whatever is making him do it.”

You and Ten exchange a tense look, and there is clear confusion whirling in his eyes, but you don’t say anything to each other. “That relationship is over. I’m trying to do something for myself for once, not whatever you think I should do.” Even saying those words makes you internally recoil, unsure of what the reaction will be, but you don’t take them back.

“You may be an adult but we’re still your parents. Frankly, you need to be with a man of your own race and species—not this blue Martian here. How would you even have kids?”

Ten gives a humorless laugh, like he wants to respond but doesn’t want to make the situation worse or offend you. “You know what, I should just leave,” he says abruptly, rising from his seat.

You get up quickly after he does, but your mom slams her hand on the table. “Y/N, you better not walk out of here.”

You feel defeated and exhausted, like you always do when dealing with your parents and their objections to every single thing you do, but you decide not to give in this time. “Stop treating me like I’m still a child, ma.”

“What does being an adult matter when you still act childish? Don’t come back here crying when this doesn’t work out. I’ve already warned you more than enough.”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

“So now you think you know better than me, when you couldn’t even keep a man the first time around.”

“This is hopeless,” you sigh, feeling wounded and angry at all these cheap shots.

“Y/N, please just listen to your mother for once…” your dad interjects, but you try your best to ignore their protests as you grab your things and follow Ten to the door. You can still hear your mother’s angry complaints as you close the front door behind you, though you’re surprised—but grateful—that neither of them attempt to follow you outside.

The ride back home is uncomfortable and mostly quiet.

“I’m sorry, Ten,” you say, feeling like you’ve been frozen from the inside out despite it being nearly summer. You’re near tears when you speak. Ten shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“It’s not your fault…” he replies weakly, though his words aren’t very persuasive to either of you.

He still walks you up to your door when you arrive back at your place, trailing slightly behind you. The night air is distractingly humid, wrapping around the both of you like a physical thing. Neither of you know what to say to each other.

When you get to your front door, you turn to look at him. “I shouldn’t have made you come. I should’ve known...”

“I wanted to come,” he points out. “You didn’t make me do anything.” Ten’s tone isn’t outright harsh, but the words are noticeably sharp. Maybe he realizes it, because his face softens as if he’s said something wrong.

You nod. It’s as if there’s a mountainous gap between you two that you just can’t cross right now. “I get it.” You say this almost mindlessly, because you’re not sure what you’re getting, exactly. Your hand rests on the doorknob. You don’t want to end the night on this awkward and painful note, but neither of you are making any progress with this lack of a real conversation. Maybe now isn’t the right time to try to talk about it.

“I think...I’ll just go home tonight.” You expected he’d say that, but the words still make your heart hurt, even if you don’t want them to. He looks like he might say something else, but he just gives you a small nod before starting off.

“Ten…” You don’t know what you want to ask of him or tell him, if anything, but his name slips from your lips like it’s something you can’t keep inside.

Ten stops for a moment and turns back to you. He steps closer again, leaning forward to give you a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulls back, his eyes hold you in place.

He mumbles, “I’m not mad at you,” before leaving.

More than anything, you want to know how Ten is doing, but you’re too ashamed to contact him for the first couple days after that mess of a night. Maybe he thinks you’re just like your parents and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. His reassurance at the door wasn’t enough to soothe your worries, and you end up tearing yourself up internally over it—repeatedly recalling the warmth of his lips and wondering if that’s maybe the last time you’ll ever feel it.

Similarly, nothing but radio silence comes from his end. He doesn’t respond even after you finally muster up the nerve to send him a text—a short text, but still a message all the same—and you fear he must really be done with you.

On Ten’s part, he does have one justification for it; he’s preoccupied with dealing with the avalanche of unpleasant memories and emotions that incident resurfaced. Everything about what your parents said and how they looked at him reminds him of his past and ongoing struggles with trying to assimilate on Earth.

Even though he’s often very sure of himself and what he wants, he begins wondering if he’s “enough” for you. Maybe you’ve just been humoring him this whole time, or you’ve decided your parents are right and you’d be better off with another human.

Those thoughts keep him up into the early morning hours, and he soon realizes he doesn’t want to let you go. In fact, he’s not sure what he’d do with himself if you decided to walk out of his life right now, and the idea of it makes him ill. Which makes him feel even more foolish for tuning you out.

Ten’s anxiety over losing you culminates in him standing on your doorstep again after almost a week of emptiness and not knowing how you were thinking or feeling—which has been killing him in its own way.

You’re not quite sure how to feel when you open the door and see him on the other side, but relief shoulders its way to the forefront.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“Can you please—”

You both speak at the same time, your words breaking afterwards.

“You can talk first,” Ten says.

“Come in.” You let him in the door, and the words start spilling before you know how to stop them. “Ten, I-I’m...really sorry. I should’ve known better than to put you in that situation, but I thought…” Your words trail off. You don’t want to let him know just how desperate you still are for your parents’ approval sometimes. Even though it’s a fruitless case. “I just wanted it to go well. I want things to work now, for us. I really, really want things to work for us.”

Ten surprises himself with how quickly he moves to take you in his arms before the last words have even finished settling in his mind. He hugs you tightly. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me anymore,” he whispers, like he’s telling you something forbidden.

“That couldn’t happen.” You’re saddened he’d come to that conclusion. “But...it’s not fair for you to leave me in the dark, either. I want to help you...so would you please let me?”

Ten squeezes you a bit tighter, as if you might disappear from his arms. “I’m sorry I ghosted you...it brought back bad memories of how things were when I first got here. When people were more open about treating me like some kind of enemy. I didn’t know how to deal with it.” You tuck your chin into his shoulder and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of his words. “Y/N, I’m not sure if I’m very good at love, or if I even know enough about it. Maybe the others were right and I’m kidding myself with something I’ll never properly learn. But, I…” His voice cracks. “I-I think I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Entirely overwhelmed, you answer his admission with a long kiss, cupping his face in your hands. His response to your kiss is automatic, the knots of tension unraveling in your embrace.

“I love you, Ten,” you whisper against his lips after you separate. Here and now, it doesn’t feel too soon at all; there couldn’t be a better time to say it. His expression is a lot of things at once. Relief, happiness, contentment...he’s blushing, but it shows up as a darker blue on his already blue skin. When he smiles, it turns his whole face into a picture of joy.

“I want to go away.” Quietly, you tell him this as you rest your head in his lap.

You’re both lying on your couch, the room dim and the sound of rain occupying the silence. A downpour started coming down soon after Ten got to your place. You’ve sat there just like that and listened to the rain on the windows for the past couple hours, not wanting to do anything else or separate from each other. You knew he wouldn’t want to go home, and you didn’t even have to ask him to stay.

Ten’s been petting your hair the whole time. The motion of his fingers in your kinky strands makes you sleepy, but now the movements pause at your words.

“Go where?” he asks.

“Away from all this. My parents hate me, and they won’t let me have any peace as long as I’m with you. I just want to go away for a while.” Despite you overflowing with love after finally getting your feelings out in the open, the thought of your parents’ disapproval has lingered steadily in the recesses of your mind. You close your eyes against the tears that begin to well up. Ten’s quiet for a few more moments, and then begins stroking your head again.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

A few tears fall despite you trying to keep them in, and your eyelids flutter when you feel Ten’s fingers on your face, wiping them away. “Then we’ll go away.”

Ten’s homeland is a planet where the sun—or rather, a star called Proxima Centauri that’s much like the sun—is always out, no matter what time of day it is. There are days where it rains or gets cloudy, but night never falls and the star never dips any lower in the sky, always staying pinned in that same spot like a tack on a corkboard. That everlasting light throws your body clock off, and combined with this weird new form of jet lag associated with space travel, you are a mess for the first week or so after your arrival.

Ten makes a few jokes about fragile human bodies, but for the most part he tends to you as best as he knows how and tells you stories about how he grew up to get your mind off the discomfort. He feeds you these neon green drinks that don’t look like anything on Earth you’ve had before, and although they do make you feel better, you begin to think maybe you should’ve had a wellness plan before running off-planet.

You aren’t the only human who’s ever visited or even lived there, though, which gives you reassurance about adjusting to everything. By now, there’s a small population of human beings living here due to the interplanetary exchange initiated by Earth.

Before you left, Ten told you he had a small home in his homeland. You didn’t quite expect to hear this, since he’d been on Earth for a while now and had no family to return to. Though he’d migrated, he still expected to come back to his planet every so often, if only to visit. Now was as good a time as any.

Although many differences exist, the scenery is much like Earth’s; there are ecosystems with plants and animals and other living beings—like the Sommu themselves. Ten’s homeland is not filled with wall-to-wall technology like you’d expect an alien city to be, based on the small examples you’ve seen on Earth. You might compare it to the tropics back on Earth, with the Sommu yielding to nature’s rightful place in their ecosystem instead of clearing out whole forests or continually mining for resources. Ten is amused by your struggle to comprehend the newness and unfamiliarity of it all.

When you feel good enough to explore, he starts taking you to the beach often. It looks mostly like any other beach, but there are large coral forms that grow out of the ocean, reaching up towards the impossibly blue and constantly illuminated sky. Because there is no moon to guide the tides, the water is eerily still, the surface mirror-like—like a huge lake or pond that extends in almost every direction for miles. You’d almost believe it was a mirror if you hadn’t seen a bird-like creature skimming across the surface as it flew by, creating fleeting ripples.

You swim around a little in the still waters after Ten convinces you that you aren’t going to turn into a fish or something equally scary. He has to hold both your hands the entire time to get you to step in, and he doesn’t let go until you’re confident enough to explore the water on your own.

“Just focus on me, okay?” His smile is bright and shining against his blue skin, and he looks you directly in the eyes as he backs into the water, breaking the surreal stillness of it with his movements. “It’s just like the water on Earth.”

“Okay, okay,” you say uncertainly, gripping his hands and stepping in tentatively. The water does feel like any other water you’ve touched throughout your life, which helps you calm down slightly. His hands stay tight around yours as you get waist-deep into the water.

When you’re finally able to let go of him, he claps his hands more enthusiastically than the situation probably calls for. “Yay, you’re a big girl now!”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re not funny, Ten.”

On a bright afternoon, Ten lets you into a room of his house you haven’t entered before. You’ve passed by this shining white door several times, but it’s always remained firmly shut until now.

“What’s in here?” you ask as you hold his hand.

“That’s what I’m going to show you.” He laughs and pushes the door open.

You think it’s a darkroom at first, seeing nothing but dim light and the shiny surfaces of what looks like photographs as your eyes adjust. But when he touches his hand to a panel on the wall and the lights come on, you realize it’s not a darkroom. More like a small gallery for all his pictures.

The “pictures” are physical, but they aren’t like the old Polaroids or film photos that have begun fading out of existence on Earth. They’re small crystalline squares that play eternally-moving videos on their glossy surfaces—a bit different from the translucent holograms Earth adopted. You step further into the room to look at them. It’d probably take days to explore them all, there are so many. Different scenes play out as soundless movies, and when you look for long enough, you realize they’re split into different categories. Numerous events within a life.

Many are of the beach, other scenic places around his homeland, oddly-shaped buildings, and plants in colors that there are no names on Earth for. You step closer to one of the walls to look at the collection of images more closely. You actually do “recognize” a select few, linking them together with old memories Ten had shared with you only weeks ago. There’s so much happening in these small snippets of time, so many stories you haven’t yet heard, that you feel like you could look at them forever and not get enough.

“This is...something else.” Your words seem inadequate, but you don’t quite know how to express your sheer wonder.

“I could take some of you,” Ten suggests, from somewhere behind you. “I want to.”

You glance back at him. “Hm, yeah.”

“I’m serious.” Ten comes up behind you to clasp his arms around your waist. He tucks his chin into your shoulder. His lips are close at your neck, and you let them linger there. One of your hands goes to his own hand that’s over your waist, and you run your fingertips over his knuckles as you gaze at the photo wall before you. “I think you’d be the perfect muse.”

“You could do that.” You’re still entranced with it all, and you already know you’ve made up your mind to let him take as many photos of you as he wants.

The next time you go to the beach, Ten takes some photos of you standing near the huge coral forms—or at least as close as you are willing to get—and he laughs at your lingering hesitation.

Still, the crystalline photos he takes of you are the embodiment of perfection. When you look over them later, watching yourself twirl around and strike silly poses in the water, you can almost hear the sound of your laughter twining together and feel the warmth of a star that’s not the sun on your skin.

“What if we stayed here?”

You ask Ten this while you’re lying in his bed, watching a kaleidoscope of shapes on the ceiling. The bedroom window is open to allow the breeze to come in. The ceiling of the bedroom—and every other room in the house—is more like an ever-changing reflection of shapes and colors than an actual ceiling. You might compare it to a mirror, like the surface of the ocean, but you think it’s much more complex than that. Sometimes you can see the distorted outline of yourself in it, like a funhouse mirror. Other times, you see the sky above.

Ten lies beside you with one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, and he turns his head to look at you.

“Stayed?”

“If we just decided not to...go back to Earth.”

He pauses for a few moments. “Is that a good idea? You have a whole life there...and your friends…” Ten doesn’t mention your family, which you are grateful for.

You sigh. Nothing like a quick injection of reality after letting your imagination get ahead of you. “We’d have to go back. I’d have to tell them goodbye. And sort some other things out. Maybe it wouldn’t happen right now. But, after I do everything I need to do on Earth...maybe I could migrate here.”

“That’s a big decision to make...and it should be yours to decide.” Ten pauses again, like he’s weighing his words. “You know I don’t have many connections on Earth…” In other words, leaving Earth and returning home for good might not be as big of a deal for him as it would be for you.

You sit up and look out the window, seeing how the warm wind stirs the trees outside. “I want to.” You say it almost inaudibly, your words nearly carried off by the breeze. You turn back to him only to find him already there, sitting across from you and looking at you closely. Your faces are only inches from each other’s as he searches your eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ll do anything you want to.” Ten’s voice is earnest, like he’d follow you to Hell and back if you asked, and you believe him.

Resting your hand on his cheek, you kiss him.

This kiss is a little different from the ones you’ve shared before—more yearning. More desperate. You kiss like there won’t be enough time to do all the things you want to do with each other—to each other. His split tongue bumps against yours, caresses it, and it causes a shiver to go down your spine, like it always does.

You end up lying back on the bed again with Ten’s body crowding yours in, legs tangling together and hips pressing against one another’s. Neither of you have made a move to take the other’s clothes off yet, but then he separates from your lips for a long moment and studies your features, from your eyebrows down to your mouth.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Your mouth drops open slightly.

“I want to see it.” He takes one of your hands and guides it up under your skirt and between your legs, pressing your fingers against your sex through your underwear, and you look at him with wide eyes, taking a deep breath. He lets go of your hand, and you keep yours right where it is. You’re slightly nervous about his black gaze trained on you, unrelenting and prying, but you begin to move your hand anyway.

Over your underwear, you press your finger between your lower lips, sliding between them and over your clit, and a little tremor goes through your body. You find yourself getting wet more quickly than you normally would with Ten watching you as you tease your entrance. You breathe a little heavier but make no sound yet. One of Ten’s hands reaches out for your ankle, though he doesn’t do anything other than keep his fingers there, a light touch that keeps passing back and forth over your ankle bone.

You circle your fingers across your clit more insistently, your legs tensing as the pleasure mounts higher. Ten’s lips part as he watches you, a heavy breath escaping from his chest. The hand on your ankle slides higher up your leg, just below your thigh, like he wants to slide his fingers into the mix and take over, but he doesn’t make a move to do so just yet.

Finally, Ten reaches under your skirt to pull your sticky panties off, sliding them slowly down your legs and leaving them somewhere on the floor. You want him to touch you again, the brush of his hands against your hips not enough, but he doesn’t grant your desire. “Keep going,” he says, leaning back on his hands, and you can see he’s growing hard.

You bring your hand back to its original place between your thighs, sliding through the wetness more easily and shuddering when your fingertips graze over your clit. You slide a finger into yourself then. A small moan slips out, and you close your eyes, but Ten’s fingers pinch your chin—not enough to hurt, but the sudden touch makes you look at him. “Keep your eyes open.” His thumb presses into your lower lip, and he stares at your mouth for a moment like he’s imagining sliding something hard and hot between your lips.

Ten kisses you on the lips again, and this time he trails the kisses down your body until he’s gripping your thighs on either side of his face. You pause in your movements when he reaches the junction of your thighs, and you watch as he grabs your hand and slips your finger out of yourself. He sucks the slick digit into his mouth, and you cannot tear your eyes away from him.

He lets your hand go and pulls you a few inches closer to his face, dragging you across the bed, and you can barely get your bearings back to sit up again when he slips his tongue through your lower lips. You moan, and he responds to that by repeating it again, catching your clit between the split in his tongue, and wiggling both sides.

“Oh Jesus...oh fuck.” Your hands go to Ten’s hair, pulling on it as you push your hips closer to his mouth, your back curving up. He is alluring tucked between your thighs like this, teasing and sucking your clit with his split tongue and prodding his fingers at your hole until he chooses to slide two of them inside.

His free hand keeps you close against his face as he eats you out, that wondrous tongue sliding against the most sensitive part of your body and making you gasp with boundless pleasure. Little droplets of moisture bead at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, your stomach tensing and releasing as you try your best to keep still.

He has to keep his grip on your body tight when you come, as you try to squirm away from his tongue because of how stimulated you are. He only lets you go after he’s satisfied himself with licking up all the wet that’s spilled from you.

Then he strips your skirt off for you, because he knows you’re not quite in a state to do it for yourself right now. He peels the rest of your clothes off similarly, which doesn’t take much time or effort to do; you’ve dressed lightly for the weather.

Ten looks at you lying beneath him on the bed, his gaze stuck somewhere between awe and lust.

He slips out of his own clothes with a certain practiced ease. Yes, he’s really blue everywhere. He looks mostly human-like everywhere, too, except for the lack of a belly button.

Ten kisses you deeply as he slips into you, and you clutch at his sides. He tries to keep his pace slow at first, maybe for your sake or to just savor how it feels, but he gives into the feeling of you squeezing around him and starts thrusting into you faster. There is already sweat sliding down to his jaw, though you think it might be because of the heat, too.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” comes out of you in a voice you hardly recognize as your own.

His pelvis sliding against your clit from the proximity of your bodies makes you curl your fingers into the strands of his hair, wanting to touch every part of him you can. His lips go to the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder, leaving little wet kisses behind as he wraps an arm around your waist and simply fucks into you, his shaft dragging against your walls.

He eventually separates himself from your neck, though it comes with some effort, to gaze at your face again. However, he finds that your eyes have drifted shut.

“Do you wanna come?” Ten asks, softly, gently, like you might break apart if he speaks too loud.

You’re a little winded from how he’s thrusting into you and can’t yet see the motive behind this question—because of course you do—but you answer with a shaky “I-I want to.”

“Then don’t look away from me.” His voice becomes harsher on these words.

“I…” Your lips move without any real words behind them as he thrusts into you harder, sinking all the way into you before pulling out to the tip. You want do what he’s just told you, but you find it difficult with the way he’s intent on burying himself into you, his eyes piercing into your own. “Mmm, I-I…”

You don’t know if you can, but the way he’s kindling your rising heat with each thrust makes you want to try very, very hard. Ten keep his hands on the sides of your face so you cannot look anywhere but at him.

The pleasure bears down on you more with each second, and you try to keep your breathing steady as another climax approaches.

“You’re almost there, come on baby,” he coaxes you, sloppily kissing the corner of your mouth before slipping his tongue in again. The way you gasp against his lips and tighten around him signals him to your orgasm, and he sits back to watch it play across your face, smirking at how you moan his name desperately.

Ten’s continued thrusts make you shiver from the flood of sensations overcoming your body, and you whimper at his movements until he pulls out and comes on your abdomen.

Ten gives you time to recover after you come down from your second orgasm, though he makes sure to lay a few more enamored kisses on your weakened body. He gets off the bed and exits the room after that. You don’t bother to ask where he’s going, because you know he’ll be back anyway.

When Ten comes back, he has his camera with him. The teasing tilt of his lips never leaves his face as he points it towards you. He takes a photo of you lying on his bed nude, with the breeze coming in and rustling the tree leaves and your hair, your skin shining bronze under the light of the eternal star. Then he comes closer, making the bed sink under his weight, and nudges your legs apart. He takes more photos of your lower stomach glistening with sweat and his cum—and photos of him sliding his slender fingers between your thighs and bringing you careening into another bout of euphoria.

The camera is soon forgotten after you come again. Ten climbs fully back onto the bed now and pulls you into his lap. His dick is hard again, and the length of it nudges against your lower lips, making you whimper from how sensitive you still are. He shushes you with a kiss and lifts your hips so he can slide into you, his shaft nudging that soft spot inside you and making you grip onto his arms.

You’re too mushy and dazed to do anything but let him push his hips up into you while you cling to him, your head lolling back. Ten’s mouth goes to the open expanse of your neck, and he wets your skin with his tongue.

The kaleidoscope of shapes above you on the ceiling morphs into one glistening reflection, throwing the blurred shapes of your bodies back to you. It’s like looking through a dense fog. You’re a little caught off guard by it, and you stare up at your nude forms. Ten looks up as well to see the cloudy figure of you cradled in his lap, and he only grins and thrusts up into you harder and smacks your ass in reply.

He grinds into you while he has you sitting full on his dick, and you think he must have set off your internal “reset” button somewhere between landing slaps on your ass and repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your mind is blissfully, amazingly blank. The only clear thing you can distinguish is how he feels in and around you.

When you come this time, it comes with a gush of wetness that makes Ten whisper several smug praises into your ear for being such a good girl and making a mess on him.

As you quickly find out, Ten’s refractory period seems to be nonexistent, while his stamina is overflowing.

Ten knows how to mix the pain with pleasure in a way that enhances both feelings, and you don’t know if you’ve ever experienced anything more perfect. One moment, he’ll say something romantic and fairytale-like to you before shoving your head into the pillow and taking you from behind in the next moment, pulling one of your arms behind you for leverage as he thrusts into you hard. You want him to do whatever he desires to you, and so you let him hammer into you until you think your hips and ass will be bruised by the next morning.

You’ve never knew that sex could be so carnal and so loving at the same time, but this is all of those things, and it makes you feel so full that you could split at the seams. You scream, cry, and moan more times than you can count, so enveloped by pleasure that it seems like the atoms of your body will simply dissolve from the intensity.

When you both finally become too exhausted to continue, it’s still daytime. Of course. But Ten draws the blackout shade forward and seals all the light out, and so you know it must be time to sleep. Time blends together here. Even if it’s not yet the midnight hour, it will be as long as you deem it so.

“Come here,” he says, and rolls you over on the bed so you don’t have to sleep in the wet spot. You grin in sleepy amusement against his neck as he hugs you to his body. “Let’s stay right here.”

You know he’s talking about sleeping for the next few hours, but you can also imagine he’s referring to your new life—one you’ll create together.

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thecelestialchapters · 2 years

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Wildcard By Marie Lu

General review:

Rating: 8 hacks

Short review: For a good portion of the book I had thought that it would have been better if I had stuck to just Warcross and let my imagination bring the end but towards the latter part of Wildcard, I am very glad I read it. Writing a review for this book is very hard because the tiniest details I can give might spoil the book, which I don’t want in case someone hasn’t read it. It’s just so well written, okay? I’ll do my best.

Some spoilers for Warcross because they are inevitable. I’ll do my best to not spoil much because literally nobody else has read these books and I don’t want to ruin it if someone decides to read it later on.

In-depth review:

After Warcross, I expected a lot from this book. And I wasn’t disappointed to most extents. My biggest fear from Wildcard was Emika turning into a major simp and she didn’t, thankfully. Do you know how easy it is to have the MC go all simpy and lovey-lovey over the dude they used to love? The whole “I can fix them!” trope, which is all over Wattpad. And things that are famous sell. So I am oh so glad Marie didn’t go that path and give us another character who has no personality trait other than being in love. And then their dominant love interest gives them undeserved power and then they go around having s*x 237867834327478 times a day and that’s the whole book. What do you mean I was supposed to review Wildcard and not diss Rhysand?

Warcross had ended with all the ties loose so I was more or less forced to read Wildcard, and that’s literally the only complaint I have as a reader. My CS nerd self might have a few, but those aren’t relevant here. We assume the logic provided is universal in fantasy books.

The plot continued from the last book, obviously, but it was far, far more convoluted. Multiple plot points were in action at once and they all worked simultaneously. One supported another, and they both pushed the final goal further. As the book itself says, Warcross was just games. Wildcard has brought the characters to life-or-death situations outside the virtual reality. Assassins, mafia, dark world organisations, everything.

Kinda triggering stuff ahead. Skip the next para if you’re not in the mood.

I was first interested in Marie Lu’s works because I was told the Legend series was very dark. And from personal experience, once you start making your stories dark, there’s no going back. And I could really see in Wildcard. Except for Zero’s part, most other F-ed up things were written vaguely, but they were there. Be it su*cides, literal m*rders, kidnapping, or complete erasure of a person’s humanity. And those things aren’t completely fictional. We live in a world where it is all possible and still happens.

One thing about Marie’s writing that I liked the most is that she knows her sh*t. She knows what questions the scenes would create in readers’ minds and she knows how to answer them, too. My dumb brain loves finding mistakes and each mistake was solved in the book itself sooner or later. And obviously, she has some plotting skills. I mean just read the books, you’ll find out.

The circle that we came along with Hideo creating Warcross as a cope and then the same thing being used by his enemies and all that was actually genius. I can’t say much without spoiling. Just. Read. The. Book.

Characters:

I know this is unlike my usual self but I won’t be going too deep into the characters for two main reasons: 1) They are the same as Warcross, which I have done once. I just have to talk about their development. 2) Spoilers. Me saying anything about the new characters is bound to spoil the book in one way or another.

Just know that Jax and Jinx look the same in my head and nobody can take that away from me.

Emika Chen:

Like I have said before, Emika is one of my favourite characters ever. And it stayed the same after Wildcard, too. Still the same intelligent, courageous, critical thinking, ingenious bounty hunter we met in Warcross. With a few extra skills in hacking, I might add, although the code block was given to her by…. Can’t even say that. See? This is what I mean. Can’t say one thing without giving away major spoilers.

The biggest development I saw in Emika was teamwork. She learned how to work with her friends, which was one of her biggest challenges in the previous book. And thankfully, her friends were trustworthy. I would have rioted if she were to go against anyone in the Phoenix Riders.

I’d like to take a moment and appreciate how bloody mentally strong this woman is. No, seriously, put yourself in her place. Betrayals, twists, and turns from all eight sides. Do you think you could have survived it? Apne exams to jheli nai jaate, bade aaye heartbreaks aur betrayals jhelne vaale. /j.

Hideo Tanaka:

Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry.

This guy is actually worthy of Emika Chen, and that’s saying a lot. Of course, he’s the genius who made Warcross at an age I was dumb as sh*t but we got more humane sides of Hideo instead of the idealised version people saw in Warcross. And I must say, I like him better that way. Making a character overpowered and a God is easy, making them a person is very, very hard. GG, Ms Lu.

Mild spoilers but this dude kicked a metallic killing machine? Multiple times? Damn, man. I am free this Valentine’s day in case… ahem, we are getting distracted. I was talking about his human side. We got his emotionally scarred (and scared) side, his anger, his sorrow, his true ambitions, everything. Despite everything, he’s just a kid. A kid who lost the thing he loved the most.

Hammie and Asher were almost the same so we’re skipping over them.

Roshan Ahmadi:

I realised how underappreciated this dude was in my previous review and this is my attempt at fixing it. While Asher’s the captain and Hammie and Emika are the ones that bind the team together, Roshan is their protector. Out of everyone, he is the one that is the most concerned about Emika’s safety. He’s the one that jumps in to save someone, quite literally if you count his shields. Roshan is the one that sees everyone’s backs when they are running forward.

In short, all I am saying is that Roshan Ahmadi is the friend that will stay behind if your laces are loose. He is the friend who will call you to make sure you have reached back home safely. And we love Roshan Ahmadi in this household.

Might as well add his humbleness despite his family being super-rich and super-powerful. It wasn’t entirely necessary, but Marie did write about the class difference between him and Tremaine in Wildcard. The prejudice rich people have against poor people.

Conclusion:

I know the review is shorter and less detailed than usual, and I am sorry for it. I’ll do better next time.

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pencilofawesomeness · 3 years

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Fics I Absolutely Adore and Would Recommend to Anyone

I’ve been meaning to do this for a long, long time, because I love reading fanworks and they deserve a lot of love and I love sharing things that I love.

Obviously this isn’t everything, and if it’s not on this list that doesn’t mean I don’t love it, it just means I forgot at this moment. I will be adding to the list and I remember things or come across it again. (Trying to sort through my bookmarks and subscriptions is like trying to catch a fish bare-handed.) I’m also gonna shy away from the one-shots, even though I adore fun one-shots, just for the sake of organization. The list would be super long otherwise, and those are best sorted by fandom. Here... Here are just some brilliant works I want to rant about.

Disclaimer: I say “recommend” because I would recommend these works, any time any place, but do keep in mind the story’s rating and tags and stuff. Not everything is kid-friendly.

There is absolutely no hierarchy to the list below. They are added as I add.

Fairy Dance of Death

by Catsy ( @fairydanceofdeath )

Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 660,282 Status: ongoing

「AU reboot of the entire SAO storyline, beginning from the premise that Kayaba Akihiko was obsessed with magic and Norse Mythology rather than swords and pure melee. As a result, he created the Death Game of Alfheim Online rather than the floating castle of Aincrad—a world in which player-killing is not a crime, and the nine player races are in competition with each other to reach the top of the World Tree. Multi-POV epic following the stories of multiple canon characters throughout the game.」

If Catsy wrote the SAO light novels and anime, SAO would be among the legendary series. Fairy Dance of Death has this amazingly simple premise of making Alfheim Online, the video game from the original series’ less-than-stellar second part, the game that the main cast becomes trapped in. However, it’s so much more. They took the characters and made them characters, and everyone gets ample spotlight—even background characters that normally wouldn’t receive a second thought. It’s masterful work, and to boot, there is a lovely frame of in-game mystery and player conflict. The organization is phenomenal and I aspire to world-build the way they did. Not to mention that stakes are so much higher and this series has ripped my heart to shreds more than once.

It has also brought me great joy, and even when I was in the dumps and didn’t want to read anything, a FDOD update made me pick up my phone and read when I otherwise wouldn’t have. It has a really special place in my heart. It updates once in a blue moon, but that’s okay.

Even if you have never seen a single piece of Sword Art Online, Fairy Dance of Death is still a great read. In fact, it’s the Better Version of SAO, if we’re all being honest, so I would especially recommend it if you hadn’t seen the original. Or if you have. The characters are given so much love and detail, to the point where Fairy Dance of Death’s characterizations are More Canon to me than Kawahara Reki’s work. It is just a beautiful piece of fiction, and it makes you question the depravity of man on levels that SAO shied away from.

Poisoned Dreams

by StrangeDiamond

Fandom: Genshin Impact Word Count: 82,852 Status: Complete, with a complete sequel and more to come

「 Every night now, Diluc dreams of death. Usually Kaeya's. In between these nightmares his life is falling apart. It doesn't take Kaeya long to realize that this is something much more insidious than simple bad dreams. His brother's life and sanity are on the line and there is nothing Kaeya won't do to save him. Bonus chapter added.」

In a growing fandom from a new game, StrangeDiamond swooped in and characterized these bad boys so well I think it’s canon. It really breathes life into the video game lore, and it’s an A+ depiction of awkward sibling re-bonding post-Terrible-Happenings. Poisoned Dreams can be read alone with a basic understanding of Genshin storybuilding, but StrangeDiamond has an entire group of fics and oneshots set in the same headcanon, and they integrate them really well and subtly together. Not to mention that the narrative style is really clever with making you question what is real and what is dream (a big point in this story) and the inner voices of the point-of-view characters are very compelling.

One Word to Change the World

by AgentMalkere

Fandom: Fairy Tail Collective Word Count: 43,988 (30 parts) Status: probably never coming back

「 In just one universe, Ultear called out to her mother instead of turning away and the fate of Fairy Tail and the world was irrevocably altered. These are glimpses of a world where a single word made all the difference.

In other words, welcome to the Butterfly Effect - Fairy Tail style. 」

It’s a really cute canon-divergent, and while the series makes no attempt to re-write Fairy Tail, it addresses the major events and just snippets in between. It does a good job at giving the vast cast ample spotlight, but it’s also an easy read. It’s special to me because it was the series that made me really pay attention to Bickslow in particular, and I respect that.

Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis

by aradian_nights

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 399,226 Status: Complete

「 Five years ago, an accident freed Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, and Armin Arlelt from an experiment that forced the most extraordinary powers onto them. After five years of separation, of being raised apart to be heroes by a set of three very different adults, they meet again. As they uncover the truth behind their captivity they realize being free and being heroes are sadly nothing but an illusion. 」

This wrecked me.

I still remember when I read it. It was the beginning of 2018, and I had the flu and a lot of time on my hands, so I binge-read this. It was simultaneously the best and the worst thing I have ever done, because I resonated with it so deeply there were times I was just staring up at the ceiling wondering what was real. I empathized with the characters to a level I rarely achieve, and I empathize easily. I laughed. I cried. It was amazing.

I refer to this story in conversation to this day. It handled themes published authors have only dreamed of achieving. Heck, if Dani (the author) took out the names of the AoT cast and replaced it with new ones, it could be its own stand alone novel. It is worldbuilding from the ground up, and any fandom knowledge you take in with you is used against you like a knife leveraged against your throat. Yet, no one is out of character. It’s phenomenal. I would say more, but this is something I daren’t spoil for anybody, because you must be as wrecked as I was. Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis is a level of writing I achieve to gain as a writer myself. It is a masterpiece in every sense of the word.

Life in Glass Houses

by blueskyscribe ( @blueskyscribe )

Fandom: Transformers (Transformers Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass) Word Count: 119,900 Status: Ongoing (maybe, I hope)

「 No one would have thought Bumblebee and Knock Out were capable of getting along, but when they're stuck in a strange new world and their only hope of survival is cooperation . . . Yeah, they're probably doomed. 」

I could be biased because Knock Out and Bumblebee are two of my favorite characters, but it really is brilliant. Two enemies, stuck together—but not in an overly cliché way. It’s the right amount of cliché, with heaps moral conflict and inner conflict and sometimes just beating each other with a broom when no one is looking. It’s also a fascinating look into what makes a character the way they are in relation to the morals they possess, and how stalwart those morals can be. I can’t help but think of this story whenever I see or write a “role reverse” or mirror-verse AU. It does an excellent job at making all of the characters engaging and their own character, despite being in a mirror-verse.

Yesterday Upon the Stair

by PitViperOfDoom ( @pitviperofdoom )

Fandom: My Hero Academia Word Count: 424,070 Status: Complete

「 Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it's not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it.

But truthfully, the "weird" part is the only part that's accurate. He's determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he's not actually quirkless. Even before meeting All-Might and taking on the power of One For All, Izuku isn't quirkless.

Not that anyone would believe it if he told them. 」

As a person who normally doesn’t read these kind of minor canon divergences, especially at the time of reading, I frickin’ love this fic. In fact, I think YUTS gave me a deep appreciation for canon divergence fics. It’s MHA in all of its glory but it’s so much more, and even the parts that rehash canon give new light to the characters and their points of view.

I had read Viper’s work before and saw Yesterday Upon the Stair filling my inbox, and then I finally watched My Hero Academia. It was one of the first MHA fics I read and it still has a very special place in my heart. I recommend this series to people who don’t even watch MHA; in fact, there are some who might prefer the darker tones and themes of heroism vs apathy to the main series. Not to mention the writing style is phenomenal, and I aspire to be that good. It made me laugh. It made me cry. Yes, tears streaming down my face crying. It is the best ghost story I have ever read.

the Vantage Point Universe

by Aggie2011 ( @aggie2011whoop )

Fandom: The Avengers (MCU) Collective Word Count: 1,032,651 (35 parts) Status: Ongoing (just slowed down)

「 Six months after the Loki incident, Clint isn't adjusting well. When an enemy from his days in the Army comes back to haunt him, he'll be forced to face a part of his past - and to move past Loki, if he has a hope of finding his place with the Avengers. (First of a universe created to center around Clint Barton) 」

// description taken from first installment

Have you enjoyed the MCU, especially the first-era Avengers phase, but like me, were disappointed in the fact that Hawkeye was barely there? The VP universe is for you.

I honestly have a hard time remembering what was canon and what was VP. And if it’s not canon, it should be. The VP universe gave so much life to Clint and to Natasha and to all of SHIELD and even the rest of the Avengers. It’s just...so good. It’s completely immersive. It focuses a lot on Hawkeye and Black Widow from before the Avengers team-up, as well as after, and it all flows together so beautifully. Not to mention that I can be reading a mission that happened pre-series, so I know that they are going to live with all of their limbs, and I still sit there on the edge of my seat the whole time.

The OCs, minor as they are, that are created for this are also wonderfully done. I can’t believe Dan and Phil don’t exist in canon. Every character, canon or no, is engaging and dynamic, it is a pleasure to follow each point of view. The emotional turmoil is also handled very well, and the VP universe carries the MCU trend of humanizing its heroes and takes it so much further.

Ghosts of the Future

by Evan Stanley ( @evanstanleyportfolio )

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog Word Count: comic (18 issues) Status: ongoing

「 About 200 years in the future, Silver the Hedgehog is an average kid living in San Francisco... except for his strange and terrible dreams of a dying Blue Hedgehog, a Black Hedgehog, and mysterious gems called "Chaos Emeralds". What will he do, when these "figments of his imagination" appear before him in his real life? 」

// description taken from first installment

Okay so this is the only one that isn’t an Ao3 story, but rather a comic on DeviantArt. However, it is still one of my favorite stories. Even though it takes the commonalities of Sonic canon and turns them on its head, GotF really treats the characters well. There are enough familiar world elements to create intrigue, but it is set in a completely different take of the future, so there is ample opportunity for world building and being able to engage with a completely new thing. I wish SEGA put as much love in the series (namely the games, because the comics are *chef’s kiss*) and all of its possibilities as creators like Evan Stanley do.

The friendship and family relationships in GotF are so diverse and all so fantastic to witness. It’s a keynote example of the new hero and the old veterans, and both parties are active and trying their best.

Do not be alarmed by the starting art style. Sure, it’s rough around the edges at first, but then it gets better, and then it gets gorgeous, and then you’re left there so stunned that it looks like just life canon art. And then you could be like me, blinking slowly as my small brain finally connected that this Evan Stanley is in fact the Evan Stanley. GotF is an amazing fanwork, but she also draws and writes for the Official Canon comics (the IDW ones now) and that work is also phenomenal and should be supported.

Whirlwind

by Lynse ( @ladylynse )

Fandom: Danny Phantom, American Dragon: Jake Long, Miraculous Ladybug, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja Word Count: 75,556 Status: Complete

「 Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny really should've expected something like this when he got that phone call from Jake. (Secret Quartet fic) 」

I have to start by saying that I adore all of Lynse’s fics, and I chose this one simply because it is one of my favorites. But it’s all fantastic, one hundred percent. I also love Mirrored, the sort-of prequel to this fic, but Whirlwind just has the chaotic pure bean energy that each of the shows bring and it foils against each other so perfectly. This is the epitome of the Secret Quartet crossover, truly.

All fandoms and all characters get ample love, and the way the reader gets to see just how badly the characters’ assumptions are going is positively wonderful. It’s so easy to fall into the “I know what’s happening and so do the characters” trap, but Lynse leaps over it gracefully and lands in greatness. The fic had me smiling like a maniac one minute, and feeling sorry for my babies the next. Wonderful. Simply fantastic!

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thetypedwriter · 4 years

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The Ruin of Kings Book Review

The Ruin of Kings Book Review by Jenn Lyons

Boy, oh, boy, was this a wild ride.

Those of you who have been following me for a while know that I occasionally delve into adult fiction here and there. I mainly stick to my vegetarian course of YA novels, but every once in a while I can’t help but pick up a slice of bacon, or in this case, an adult fiction book.

Or, even more specifically, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that it’s adult fantasy instead of fiction. High fantasy at that, which is characterized by a whole new world with fantastical elements and not just a novel in the known primary world with fantasy elements.

With that literary lesson out of the way, let me get started.

The Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons came recommended by one of my favorite book bloggers, Paperfury. She counted this as one of her most recent book obsessions she couldn’t stop thinking about and in general I trust her judgement (although she was way way off on The Queen of Nothing, yikes).

This massive installment is definitely not the short and sweet page length I’m used to with YA, and neither does it have the comforting and large font that makes me feel like an accomplished reader after just an hour of skimming.

No, this installment is large and beefy and could probably give someone a concussion if you threw it at them, so just keep that in mind.

The whole fantasy revolves around a boy named Khirin. Khirin is your typical fantasy hero, equipped with the luscious blonde hair and the sparkling blue eyes and most importantly, the wickedly sharp tongue reminiscent of a male character from the Cassandra Clare universe.

He’s sharp, he’s witty, he’s charming, and he also has terrible, terrible luck.

Or does he?

When you first meet Khirin he is being sold as a slave to the highest bidder. He’s cold, he’s injured, he’s starving, and he’s broken. You, as a reader at this point, are completely and irrevocably confused.

You’re thinking: Who is this boy? What is happening to him? Why are people betting so much money for him? What’s with this necklace around his neck? Where did he come from? Where are we? What world is this? Where is he going? What the hell is going on???

To say that Lyons starts out strong would be underhanded hyperbole. You are forcibly drop-kicked into the fantasy world of Qurr and its many raging empires and states, and putting them all together is frankly daunting and largely impossible until a good chunk of the book is devoured.

Frankly, I still have trouble figuring out all the locations and gods and god-kings and factions and lore and people and how they’re all related, Game of Thrones style. But that’s part of the fun.

One of my biggest complaints with YA is that the reader is generally treated like they’re pretty stupid.

Often a YA author feels the need to explain every single iteration and modicum of interaction between their characters or spend too much time describing things, and it leaves very little for interpretation or inference on the side of the reader. Lyons is almost the complete opposite, which is as refreshing as it is frustrating.

As you are introduced to Khirin and this gargantuan universe that Lyons has created, you will feel stupid. To be fair, I enjoyed it most of the time. I relished the challenge of learning to differentiate all the different families of the Court of Gems, of distinguishing the Goddess Thaena from the Goddess Tya.

I liked when I was finally able to smugly look at the map at the beginning and recognize all of the city states like Doltar or Kirpis or Manol. I liked when I understood the different races like the Thriss or the vané and the implications of what that meant.

If that was a whole load of word vomit for you, that’s okay.

Again, it’s part of the fun.

What I do want you to get out of this, however, is the knowledge that Lyons has created an expansive universe with multiple creatures, including dragons and witches, rivaling royal families, gods reminiscent of the Greek Gods and their interference with human affairs, a rivaling world split with so many seams that you’re not even sure who to root for, an emperor, magical jewelry, demons and even a dose of piracy and musical competition.

This book honestly has a little of everything — which, to be fair, it should, considering how damn long it takes to get through it’s never-ending pages.

To make this as simplified as possible, the plot goes like this:

Khirin is sold into slavery and finds himself in the hands of a group called the Black Brotherhood. Over time, Khirin learns about this group and their intentions, learns more about himself and the Stone of Shackles (the necklace he wears around his neck), divulges his past and how he got sold into slavery in the first place-his upbringing, his musical talent, his stay at the Blue Palace, his eventual betrayal at the hands of someone he loves.

You learn over the course of each chapter what brought Khirin to his current fate and more of what he is trying to do now,: which is to return home and save the world from the likes of the two main antagonists (although not all of them by any means), Gadrith and Darzin.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that is the most bare- bones summary I have ever written. But honestly, this book is about a hero named Khirin and his adventure to rid the world of evil as he learns about himself and his past.

Like many, many, other books before it, this book explores what it means to be a hero, what it means to be a god, what it means to be involved with the fight of good vs. evil. This book is not special in that sense regarding these themes.

However, there are some really cool aspects of this novel that I thoroughly enjoyed that I’ll relay now that the summary (as condensed as it is, sorry) is out of the way.

The two things I enjoyed most about this book were the writing itself and the POV. Most high fantasy novels that I’ve attempted to read have this ridiculous notion that every character must speak in some dead medieval language rife with historical inaccuracies and banal, clipped speech. Lyons does nothing of the sort.

Her characters are creative and crass and downright funny. The dialogue is immersive and natural and oftentimes, other than the backdrop of a dragon or lizard-people, it felt like two modern-day people were having a conversation, which I greatly appreciated.

Lyons is also a very big fan of building up her writing and then smacking you down at the pinnacle. For example:

“Before us lay the Mother of Trees.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing. I couldn’t comprehend. It just seemed like a humongous wall at first, one that had been built up with palaces and verandas, graceful pavilions, and stained-glass windows glittering like jewels. Only when I looked up could I perceive the sweep of branches, the distance velvet of green leaves. This was a tree to hold up the whole world, the sort of place where Galava must live, if any place were consecrated to her. It seemed ageless and immortal, a tree that had always and would always exist.

Naturally, we were setting it on fire.”

I personally found this style of writing hilarious. Lyons often built up the tension, beauty, or conflict, and then would deliver these one-liners that would leave me gasping with laughter. This creative juxtaposition was super enjoyable and one that made the book a big success for me.

Secondly, while this book is told almost entirely (keyword almost -there are some outlier chapters) from Khirin’s perspective, it technically oscillates between present Khirin and past Khirin.

The whole book switches from one timeline to another every other chapter, with the chapter starting with Khirin being sold into slavery being the “present” and told from Khirin’s first-person POV and then switching the next chapter to his “past” and being told from Khirin’s third-person POV.

I loved this. I thought this was so creative, and up to this point, I have never seen this done in another book. The subtle shift from first to third person every chapter, but still from the perspective of the same character, was so interesting and complex.

I loved that we were simultaneously getting current-day Khirin, but also Khirin from two years ago telling us the events that led up to the present. It was imaginative and intriguing, and I loved trying to fill in the holes before the book presented me with it (which even then was difficult).

In addition, throughout the whole book are also footnotes from another crucial character that offer information, clarification, and also humor. While I’ve primarily read footnotes in academic papers to cite sources or offer commentary, these footnotes were just as fictional as the rest of the story, but offered insight outside of Khirin that was often dripping in sarcasm, irony, or humor.

I thought it was another really creative way for Lyons to get across information without boring everyone half to death or releasing a 100- page guidebook to help you along.

Bottom line, people,: This book isn’t for everyone. High fantasy in general is not for everyone. That’s okay. It’s not usually my taste either, at least not the adult fictional kind, but something about this book really intrigued me.

Moreso than the actual plot, which is confusing, I enjoyed the writing, the suspense, and the act of playing detective. It’s been so long since I’ve read a book that’s made me think this hard, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. That being said, the same praise is a double-edged sword.

If you don’t want to have to think and draw out charts and make graphs on Excel, then perhaps this is not the book for you.

If you don’t like high fantasy or made-up worlds, or very interconnected family dynamics, then this is not the book for you. This book also contains elements that can be triggering to some, like rape, drugs, character death, violence, imprisonment, slavery, etc.

When I say this book has everything, I mean it has everything. And that can be good or bad depending on the person. For me, I liked it. However, I did get frustrated at certain points at the lack of clarification more than once, just for full disclosure.

Recommendation: If you’ve been bereft ever since the Game of Thrones disaster-of-a-finale, then you are not alone. The Ruin of Kings has everything you’ve ever wanted in a high fantasy book: action, kings, queens, palaces, war, dragons, magic and so much more.

This book was creative and funny and complex, and if you’re willing to sink your teeth and time into a universe that demands attention then you’ll find yourself rewarded with a brand-new world to fall in love with and characters that you can’t seem to forget.

Score: 8/10

#the ruin of kings #jenn lyons #popular fiction #books #book blog #book review #fiction #Book Recommendations #booknerd #writing #fantasy #high fantasy

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alleiradayne · 5 years

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There’s Something Strange A Reader/Sam Winchester Series

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part VI - The Cleansing

Summary: A ritual and a few spells. Sap, cap, trap. What could possibly go wrong? Warnings/Tags: Characters get beat up by a poltergeist. More fluffy flirting. Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 3,064 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me.

“She seemed genuinely terrified you would destroy the pen,” Sam noted as he flipped through a book.

Across the table Dean glared at her as Y/N opened her mouth to speak. “Yeah, about that,” she started, then cleared her throat. “I knew it would work. I did the same thing when I released her. That's why she didn't kill me. But I thought I had actually gotten her to move on to… heaven? Hell? Whatever afterlife that may or may not—”

“Heaven, probably,” Dean said, his glare softened. “You don't go to hell unless a demon collects you for some reason. Or you choose it.”

Y/N blinked at him for several seconds, then opened her mouth multiple times, each with the start of a different question, only to move on. “I'm going to… log that away as if you didn’t just tell me heaven and hell are real and ask my fifty-seven million questions after we’ve taken care of this poltergeist.”

Dean sipped from his drink as he nodded in wordless agreement.

Y/N returned to her book and stared at the page, unable to focus. Too many competing thoughts vied for her attention, and when she tried to give one that very thing, another weaseled its way in to distract her. At least after all this, she would have one hell of a book on her hands.

Sam prodded her arm then and pushed a book to her as he dragged his chair closer. “I think I might have something.”

Though Y/N heard him and understood him, her mind wandered as his presence overwhelmed her. So near, Sam smothered her, and not unpleasantly. Far from it, Y/N wanted little else then, aside from maybe her book to write itself. But since that would never happen, she settled for imagining Sam Winchester in all manner of ways.

“Y/N?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I asked you if the trap made sense,” he said. “It’s… not going to be easy.”

Sam pointed at the open book where Y/N found Latin mixed in with English. As she scanned the page, the plan clarified. “A ritual and two spells. Gives all three of us something to do, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed as he smiled. “It does. Do you need help with—”

“Non opus auxilium cum latine.”

Sam’s smile brightened as he laughed. “You speak Latin. Of course you do.”

Her chest tightened at the brilliant flash of excitement in his eyes. “I do,” she said as she smiled and averted her gaze. Looking at Sam was like staring too long at the sun, but oh how she wished she could stare for days.

“Huh,” he breathed as he leaned ever so slightly closer. “Of all the civilians to get involved in a hunt—”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean groaned. “Just give me my spell so I can go memorize it on my own.” He brandished his open hand as he leaned across the table.

Sam tore a page from her notebook and jotted down the spell. “We need some components for the ritual, too. Can you grab this stuff from the car?” he asked as he handed Dean the paper. “The bowl, too?”

Dean shot Sam a flat glare before looking over the paper, glanced at Y/N, then back at the paper. “Alright. We’ll meet up in the ballroom in an hour. Unless someone shows up again.”

Sam flashed a quick smile as he said, “Thanks.”

Dean disappeared around the corner of bookshelves, the thump of his heavy boots fading into the distance until silent. Y/N stared at the chair he vacated, too many thoughts warring in her mind. But the comforting warmth of Sam’s long fingers and massive palm enveloped her shoulder, and she startled as she turned to face him.

He, too, jumped as he reared back and withdrew his touch. “Sorry. I shouldn’t do that—”

She silenced him with a touch, cupping his cheek. “Sam, please don’t second guess yourself.”

His eyes closed as he nuzzled her hand, turning into her palm. A deep breath expanded his broad chest, and his lips pressed to her palm where he kissed her. But then he grasped her hand in both of his and held it to his chest, and his eyes opened as he said, “I'm scared. This… you, helping us, isn't exactly how we do things. And even when a civilian gets involved, it…”

His words faded as he stared into her eyes, that familiar, profound look of simultaneous longing and pain. “It never felt like this?”

“It’s been a while,” he said. “Let’s just put it that way for now. After this, after we zap this poltergeist back into its trap, we’ll talk. I promise. Is that okay with you?”

Not a hint of a lie hid in his eyes no matter how hard Y/N searched. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe everything he had said. But she knew how the story ended. Sure, they might lock the poltergeist away. Except the cost might be greater than they understood. Or worse, Sam understood that cost intimately, and because of that, had chosen to put off talking with her.

Y/N lurched from her chair into his arms, hers wrapped around his neck, and her lips planted on his. And God bless Sam’s embrace, for in it, she had never felt safer. At least she knew he would be there for her, do his best to protect her. There she found a modicum of solace, that whatever happened next, they would face it together.

When they parted, Sam breathed through his smile as she touched her forehead to his. “You know, if Dean came back right now, that’d make a hat trick.”

“Wow. A hockey joke. In Minnesota. Don’t quit your day job,” Y/N teased.

He turned to the table with a frustrated sigh. “Speaking of day jobs,” he said, “we should get to memorizing this stuff. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer the ritual.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him as Y/N returned to her chair. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“As capable as I think you are, the ritual is… the most vulnerable part of this process,” Sam explained as he pointed to the text. “You’d be exposed to her at her strongest.”

“And I won’t be when we’re trapping her?” she asked.

“Correct,” Sam continued. “The ritual is going to sap her of her paranormal energy. Dean’s spell will bind her to the pen. And your spell,” he paused as he pointed to her page, “will actually trap her in it. Sap, cap, trap.”

Her gaze drifted to the pen where it sat in its holder beside its twin on the base of the inkwell in the center of the library table. “We’ll have to do something about it then. Hide it? I’m guessing it can’t be destroyed if it’s holding a poltergeist.”

“Correct again,” Sam laughed. “We can think of what to do with it later, though. For now,” he took a deep breath and pushed the book towards her, “we’ve got some memorization to do.”

“Great.”

If she made it through the night, Y/N vowed to hear Sam’s laughter every day for the rest of her life.

“Did you two actually memorize your spells or just make out the whole time?”

“Aw, poor Dean, hasn’t been laid in weeks,” Y/N teased.

He stared at her with a flat, thin-lipped glare until he rolled his eyes and handed her the bowl full of ritual components. “Yeah, fine, I’m jealous. Go give this to that damn gorilla over there and tell him I said not to fuck it up.”

She crossed the large ballroom to give the bowl to Sam as she asked, “Why are we in here anyway? Why not the library?”

Over her shoulder, she watched as Dean approached a table, fingertips teasing the tablecloth and eyes dancing across the banquet settings. “Because,” he started, “there’s more space. Library’s too cramped.”

Sam stood as she approached with the bowl and took it from her. “He’s got a point.”

A rapid rush of fabric spun them both about to find Dean with an entire tablecloth in his hands, his eyes wide and his mouth wider. “Holy shit, I did it.” He pointed at the table where, sans tablecloth, stood place settings for six and a wide centerpiece full of fall flowers, all shifted two inches towards him.

“He… I am so sorry. He watches too many movies,” Sam muttered as he shook his head.

“At least the flowers are still standing,” Y/N said with a wink.

The bowl dropped to the table with a dull thud as Sam groaned. “Great, now there’s two of you.”

Though she laughed, the moment of levity faded in a wisp of smoke as she watched Sam work. A ritual. Real magic again. And a spell. She was going to cast a spell, something that, eighteen hours ago, she had known to be fictional. All that had come crumbling down around her, and since that moment, when Sam had told her the truth in the library, Y/N had oscillated between elation, fear, and sadness. Innocence lost, her books no longer represented an escape from reality.

Life had proven to be stranger than fiction.

“Ready?”

His baritone pacified her conflicted thoughts, settling them to a dull roar in the back of her mind. She turned into his touch at her shoulder and hugged him as hard as she could.

“You're gonna be fine, Y/N,” he said as he smoothed her hair. “I promise.”

When she looked up into his eyes, she found the same fear that gripped her chest. “You shouldn't make promises you can't keep.”

“I don't.”

Serious as a heart attack, Sam’s dark stare lingered on her a moment longer before he parted from her. Back at his table, he stood before the bowl, final components in hand.

Y/N took up her position two tables away, hidden behind a large pillar. Across from her, Dean stood behind a similar pillar, and gave her a thumbs up. Between the two of them, she knew she should be reassured. But the nagging worry that everything would go terribly wrong never loosened its vice-like grip of her racing heart. And as Sam’s commanding voice filled the cavernous ballroom, Y/N hoped—prayed, even—that he and Dean would prove her wrong.

Spiritus, dico vobis, et ita erit tibi reaponsum. Spiritus, ego dicam, et sic tibi manifestatur. Spiritus, ego præcipio tibi, et ita, so obedieritis.

He tossed a component into the bowl, followed by an ignited matchbook. A slow kindling crackled to life as a subtle simmer caught the twigs and powders. At first, she thought the ritual had failed. She saw no sign of the poltergeist. Or any spirit for that matter. But when Sam repeated the mantra, the fire in the bowl flared three feet in a gout of violent green flame. Sam recoiled as he shielded his face with his arms, but he maintained his cadence, repeating the ritual’s words as the fire settled, then turned a beautiful shade of blue.

A sharp gust of wind whipped through the room bearing the same chill she had felt twice that night, and it seeped into her bones once more. Her breath clouded and condensed before her open mouth, and her eyes widened in shock, not only at the freezing air but at the sight of Sam bathed in blue light from the flames of the ritual bowl. He towered over the table, spine straight and shoulders held back as he commanded the paranormal powers of the afterlife to bend to his will.

And bend they did. Dust and dirt gathered in a swirling cloud in the center of the room. Strikes of lightning darted across the windows and illuminated the ballroom in staccato flashes. Sam repeated his ritual as he leaned into the howling wind and the form amassing in the center of the solidified into the spirit of Y/N Hillstead once more.

An ear-piercing shriek shattered the glass of the windows in a wall of sound as the poltergeist threw back her head in wild rage. Pain lanced like fire through her entire body as Y/N collapsed to her knees, hands clamped over her ears but to no avail. Endless seconds stretched as darkness encroached, and Y/N willingly submitted to that painless nothing, so ready for it all to end in so few seconds.

The screams stopped with a sputtered choke, and as the wind settled, her vision cleared. Chill and pain all subsided in a wave of warmth as Dean's deep growl recited his spell. She peeked around the pillar to find Sam brandishing an iron poker in one hand and a can of salt in the other as the poltergeist struggled against invisible bonds. Sam’s ritual had worked, sapping the spirit of her power and priming it for Dean’s binding spell. And Dean, his booming voice filling the ballroom, commanded his spell as though second nature.

Spiritus, ego catenam, et sic te manere. Spiritus, ego dica te, et sic manebitis. Spiritus, adiuro vos, et ita vos peregrinamini.

He held the pen out before him as the veins of green glowed in angular shafts of eerie light cast across his face. The poltergeist wheeled about and rushed him in that last second before Dean whipped the pen across the room to Y/N where she leaped out from behind the pillar and caught it.

As the poltergeist towered over Dean with a clawed hand raised, he shouted, “Get her!”

Sam threw his can of salt at the poltergeist only for it to pass straight through her head. Dean caught it and flung an arc of salt at her, but Y/N Hillstead continued her pursuit, bearing down on Dean like a wolf on its prey.

“Y/N! Do it!”

Sam’s shout shocked her into action, one confident step after the other bearing her towards the poltergeist. She gathered all her willpower, breathed in a breath so full, and spoke.

Spiritus, ego confinium te, et sic te erit perseverare. Spiritus, ego cohibere te, et sic te erit ferre. Spiritus, ego imprison te, et sic te patietur. In aeternum.

The pen flashed so bright Y/N shielded her eyes as her last step faltered. The pen warmed in her fist brandished before her, gold and green lights glimmering from it and dancing on the floor and ceiling as a strained hiss sought release. The poltergeist wheeled about as that hiss rose to a howling of wind, drawing her towards Y/N when she opened her hand. She wanted nothing more than to run in that moment as the poltergeist started for her, drifting agonizingly slow, each second longer than the last.

“Say it again! Keep saying it!”

Dean’s bellow barely sounded above the wind, but Y/N heard him. And so, she repeated herself, poured her entire soul into that spell, believed beyond everything she had ever thought possible. It had to work. Sam wouldn’t let anything go wrong if he was there. He had found the spell and said it would work.

Cold crept up her arms, her spine, and settled in the pit of her stomach as the lights flickered, dimmed, then snuffed out like so many little lives. The icy fingers of death closed on her throat as Y/N Hillstead reached her and squeezed, lifting Y/N three feet off the floor, and screamed an unholy wail that wracked her entire body with pain the likes of which she had never felt before.

The last of the gold and green light in the pen sputtered and died, and as the darkness returned, Y/N witnessed the last thing she would ever see. Dean tried first, ambushing from behind, but a casual flick of the poltergeist’s wrist sent him flying across the ballroom and through a table where he stilled amongst the rubble. Sam followed, hot on his heels with the iron poker, only to be thrown aside much the same, a ragdoll discarded and forgotten in a crumpled pile beneath a shattered table where the ritual bowl had once stood.

All for naught, their magic had failed. And all three of them would die because of it. Because of her. Because she let loose a century-and-a-half old vengeful spirit in an impulsive bid for inspiration. What was worse was that Sam and Dean’s last memories would be of her, the woman that had gotten them into the mess that ended in their deaths. And she had no one to blame but herself.

But only if she let it happen that way.

Y/N dug deep for the last of her strength and reached for her back pocket. Numb fingers fumbled at the handle as she cursed in her delirious state. The poltergeist turned her attention back to Y/N in that single second, and as their eyes locked, time stood still. For that infinitesimal blip in her life, death seemed inevitable.

The click of the torch drew both of their eyes down to her hand where Y/N had shoved the pen into the hand-torch’s bright blue flame. The poltergeist dropped her to her feet as her strength wavered, bits of dust flaking from her outstretched hand. Shriveled fingers reached for her face, clawed at her flaking flesh as her jaw opened, but no scream sounded. Her hands faded, followed by her arms, and then her body. As the pen charred and burned, her clothes drifted to pieces, and bit by bit, her face disintegrated. In so few seconds, it was over. The remains of Y/N Hillstead sat in a pile of ash at Y/N’s feet, a threat no longer.

A groan and clattering of rubble snatched her attention as Sam roused from his ruined table. His eyes swept the ballroom until he found Dean stirring from his own pile of dinnerware and wood. He rushed to him, tossing pieces of the table aside until he reached Dean, then, when he was sure he was okay, hugged him so hard, Dean gasped.

On his feet, Dean, too, scanned the ballroom only to settle on Y/N, the pile of ash at her feet and clutching her hand-torch.

“Son of a bitch.”

Sam looked between Y/N and Dean. “What?”

“C’mon, you friggin’ ape,” Dean started. “We’re going to the kitchen.”

“Wha-why?!” Sam protested. “I want to know what the fuck just happened!”

“Y/N can tell you,” he said.

Sam checked over his shoulder as she followed them from the ballroom. Sheepish, she smiled as she averted her eyes.

“Why are we going to the kitchen?”

“Because I owe Y/N a drink.”

“For what?”

Dean shot her a smile over his shoulder.

“For saving our asses.”

If you want to be tagged for this series specifically, send me an ask or a DM! If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO MASTERLIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @seenashwrite @canadianspnhunter @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27 @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons @karouwinchester

There’s Something Strange:

@peridottea91 @amanda-teaches

#alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic #spnfluffbingo #spnfluffbingo2019 #reader/sam winchester

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strangevoyages · 5 years

Note

Very cool of you to start this! I was wondering... as someone who would like to publish a traditional novel someday (romance, if that helps) and was wondering if you could outline the publication process for novels? It's a little intimidating for someone like me and I would really appreciate the clarity. Thank you!

Hi there, thank you so much! :) And okay, I’ll do my best to outline how it generally works:

Traditional Publishing

Step 1) Complete your novel.

Step 2) Edit and revise your novel to the best of your abilities! You only get one chance to impress an agent (the next step) and you want to start with your best foot forward. Do not send an incomplete or unpolished manuscript: it must be as close to the finished product as you can get on your own! If you feel you need help, shop it around to people you trust (friends or family, creative writing workshops, writing partners, mentors or professors, etc). Professional and freelance editors (like me!) are also always an option if you need an experienced second pair of eyes!

Step 3) Find agents whose work you love. The best way to do this is to go to your favorite novels (preferably in the genre you want to publish in), turn to the back of the book, and find the agent of that novel’s name in the “Acknowledgements/Thanks” section. Look them up and read carefully to see if your story fits the kind of work they read and are looking for.

Step 4) Write a query letter. This is possibly the most intimidating aspect of the publication process because many authors love to write fiction, but don’t love to write about themselves and their work. The query letter is essentially the marketing or elevator pitch to give an agent a preview of what to expect in your work (and is your chance to intrigue them). There’s a wealth of resources out there on how to write a query letter, and here are some of my favorites:

How to Write a Darn Good Query Letter

How to Write the Perfect Query Letter

Query Letters

Samples of Query Letters

The long and short of it is, query letters contain your book’s introduction and stats (what its word count is (), what its genre and title is), its summary (picture what its blurb would be on the back of the hardcover copy and write that), your credentials as an author, and why you’d like to work with that particular agent.

Some other tips: don’t let the letter extend beyond one page. Agents (and editors) appreciate conciseness, not least because they’re busy and it shows your skill as a writer when you condense important information into a small space. Don’t oversell your work. NEVER describe your book as “the next Harry Potter” or “the masterpiece of our time” or whatever. Let the agent decide that for themselves! But don’t undersell or self-deprecate, either (“you probably won’t be interested in this, but I thought I’d give it a shot...”). It can be hard to have confidence in your writing, especially when entering the pro arena, but you need to inspire an agent’s faith in you as much as in your work (without exaggerating or boasting!)

Step 5) Send your query letter and manuscript to the top 5 agents you’ve been looking at. Sending too many will be overwhelming (and many agents hate “simultaneous submissions,” where you send copies to multiple places at the same time) and sending too few would be putting all your eggs in one basket.

Be careful to read exactly how each agent would like to receive your manuscript! Some only accept physical copies in the mail, in manila envelopes; some only accept attachments by email; some only accept PDFs and not Word and vice-versa! If you don’t follow their submission guidelines, you often won’t get a second chance or a courtesy reminder.

Oh, and format your manuscript according to their instructions. If there are no specific instructions, it’s always best to have your novel in standard manuscript format. Shunn’s guide to story formatting is a bible in this industry, so following those guidelines will make you look professional. Please avoid kooky or unique fonts as well: you may think it helps you stand out, but speaking from experience, most agents/editors really hate this!

Step 6) Wait.

Some agents have a projected time of response to get back to you (“if we don’t get back to you within 8 weeks, we are declining to represent your work”) on their website. Some don’t, and you’ll just have to wait (sending a follow-up query 6-8 weeks after sending your manuscript can be reasonable unless their website asks you not to do this).

If those top 5 agent don’t get back to you (or decline to represent your book) don’t be discouraged! All the greatest writers of all time struggled to find their agents and publishers at first. J.K. Rowling suffered through “years” of rejection from agents before she finally found one to represent Harry Potter, and even after that was rejected by 12 publishers (many very rudely!) before someone wanted HP. So send your manuscript out to the next five and keep going!

Step 7) An agent wants your manuscript.

Ideally, they’re over-the-moon in love with it: you want an agent who’s passionate about your work and will shop it tirelessly to their connections in the publishing industry.

(I feel I should add: do not send your work to or proceed with any agent who wants to be paid to represent you, or who charges a fee to read your work! This is a scam! Like sports agents or real estate agents, literary agents only take a cut of the profits after they’ve sold your book to a publisher. (Usually around 15%, though this could be higher or lower depending on the agent). This way, they’re motivated to sell your book for the highest rate possible, because they only make money from it then, too! If they want you to pay them out-of-pocket for anything, be extremely suspicious!)

After you’ve met with your agent, agreed to work together, and signed a contract (always read these carefully or get a lawyer to look over them), your agent will probably give you some tips or requests to polish your manuscript up even further before sending your work out. After this is done, they’ll shop your manuscript to the publishers they think will be the best fit for it!

Step 8) An editor at a publishing house reads your manuscript and falls in love with it.

This is the dream! There will be some negotiation, and this is where your agent comes in: they will protect your rights and negotiate with the publisher on your behalf to get as high of a selling price for your novel as possible. The publisher will often pay you an advance (an initial lump sum for the book) and will then usually offer you a percentage of the first sales after tax (say 10%, though depending on your publishing history or type of book or a whole slew of factors, you may get a higher/lower percentage or none at all). Your agent will guide you through this process and explain everything, so I won’t get into much more detail beyond that.

Step 9) You accept the terms of agreement with a publisher, and the book goes to their editing team: AKA your new editor.

You will likely go through several months or even years of editing with your editor’s feedback. A good editor won’t change your vision of your work drastically, but you may have to rewrite whole sections of your book to improve pacing, cut out unnecessary plot lines, and etc. Be patient with this and be flexible: your work isn’t perfect (no one’s is, not even after publication) and your editor knows what they’re doing. However, you do also have power here and can push back if there’s something you feel extremely strongly about changing.

Step 10) Your book is on the way to publication.

Now it’s just a waiting game. Your agent (or you) might ask other authors to be advance readers for your edited manuscript: these are the people who give the quotes and blurbs on the back of the books--the ones with glowing praise!

Depending on the publishing house, you may get some input on the cover and design of your book, or you may not. Your agent/publisher may also talk to you about foreign translations and licensing, etc.!

Step 11) Your book is published!

It took a while, but you made it, and now your book has hit the shelves (or the Internet, or both). Not counting the time it takes to find an agent, the whole process takes a minimum of a year to... well, I won’t regale you with the authors who took ten, fifteen, twenty years to get to publication, but needless to say, it’s a slow-moving process.

Getting an agent is arguably the hardest part (once you get one, they really do most of the work for you), and if you’d like to skip this hurdle, there’s always chancing submitting your work straight to the publishers. However, for the big publishing houses, this option has an extremely low chance of success, to put it bluntly. Unless you’re submitting to a very small independent publisher or what’s known as a “vanity press”, almost all major publishing houses nowadays don’t even look at books without agents, and those submissions get lost in slush pile hell. Agents are the first barrier to publication, and once they’ve vetted your book and found potential in it, publishing houses are more comfortable with reading a manuscript that they’re more sure won’t “waste their time.”

Of course, if you don’t want to split your profits with an agent, there’s always self-publishing! But since this post is getting so long, I figure I’ll talk about that another time. Thanks for the great question, and I hope this helped! (And good luck with your romance novel(s)!)

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femnet · 5 years

Photo

Submitting your writing can be intimidating, scary, confusing even. Cover letters, submission guidelines, all of these can add stress to the writing process that you don’t need. Here are some tips and tricks so you can focus on your writing and get yourself published.

1. Edit Your Work

This seems self-explanatory, but it’s important. Misspelled words, odd formatting, and grammatical errors can turn an editor off of your piece before they’ve given it a chance. This also means reading your story aloud, analyzing it for continuity, for the impact of your narrative choices. It’s about polish, but also making sure your story or poem is as good as possible. Once you’re certain the characters aren’t flat, you’ve got tension, and a solid storyline for your short stories or flash fiction, and you’ve said what you wanted to say in your poem, then it’s time to find the appropriate market.

2. Identify Your Genre (and Style)

Do you write sci-fi? Fantasy? Fairytales? Do you tend to write about isolation? Confusion? Heartfelt pieces? This step is about genre, but also about the vibe you write. Some magazines tend towards more sharp pieces, other softer, heartfelt ones. Take time to find some magazines that match your writing style. They often have what they’re looking for in their submission guidelines, but also in the works they’ve published before.

3. Submission Guidelines

Now that you’ve identified a place or a few places that fit your genre and style, it’s time to find their submission guidelines. How do they want you to format your piece? Font, size, spacing, pagination, all of these things are up to the magazine to establish. Be sure to see if they want your name to be on the piece, either in the title, the header, or even the file name. Many magazines judge blind, so your name shouldn’t be included anywhere on the piece. Be careful with that. This can get your work rejected instantly.

4. The Cover Letter

Cover letters can be scary, but they shouldn’t be. I’ve posted a template below so you can get an idea of what’s gotten me accepted before. The first paragraph is about your piece, the second is about you. Be sure to check if they specify if they want your bio in third person or in first.

Dear Magazine,

Please accept the attached piece, “Title of Piece”, for consideration in your X Issue/competition/etc. The piece is x words and is formatted to the specifications listed on your website. It is a piece about blank and blank. *This piece is a simultaneous submission.

I have had short fiction, poetry, and scripts published in x, x, x, x, and x. I was selected for x opportunity. I work at x and like to do x in my free time.

Thank you for your consideration,

NAME

*NOTE: if this is a simultaneous submission, meaning you’re submitting it multiple places at once 1) be sure the magazine okays it in their submission guidelines and 2) mention that here. It’s common courtesy.

5. Submit!

Proofread everything, being sure to double check you’ve formatted your piece appropriately, and then hit submit. It’s easy as that!

6. Be Patient

Yes, this part can be frustrating. It can take months to hear back. But do not, I repeat do not, email to ask about your status. It is inconsiderate to the editors and their time. Let them work through the work they have to. They’re often underpaid, sometimes doing it for free. Give it time. Work on other stuff. Find more places you want to write for. Write for them.

I often find it helpful to put together a spreadsheet of your submissions. I’ll list the date I submitted, when (if at all) they said they’d get back to you, when you get a response. This ensures you don’t submit a piece you’ve already submitted a few weeks ago, and also is a good way to see if your pieces are getting accepted. If not, re-evaluate. Edit some more. Do some rewriting. Then, try again!

Now, get submitting!

#writing #writeblr #on writing #art #writing advice #by addison #february 2019 #books and writing

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kerbieaddis · 5 years

Text

How I Got My Agent

Well, here's a post I never thought I'd have the chance to write.

After 6 years of writing seriously, several manuscripts, multiple contests, hundreds of queries, and a metric ton of determination, I am over the moon to announce I have an agent.

I can't even begin to tell you guys how happy I am. I have a long road ahead of me still, with revisions and going on submission, but having someone in my corner is such an incredible boost to help me fight through self-doubt.

My writing journey has been long and (literally) bloody, but for this post I'll just focus on the book that got me an agent. Before I wrote this book, I'd made up my mind to only write something if I really loved it. I was finishing up my master's degree, making plans to move to Philadelphia, and really didn't have time to write something new.

One night, after calming me down from an anxiety attack, my husband, Chris, said: "Don't you wish there was a machine that could erase all the bad memories?"

I thought on this for a moment. Part of me welcomed the idea of erasing bad memories, but as someone with a family history of Alzheimer's disease, it simultaneously terrified me. For that to work, I thought, it would need to be an artificial intelligence. Something that could sort the memories. I thought of my miscarriage from years earlier and how even though it was a terrible memory and had brought on several new anxiety triggers, it had lit a fire under me. Would I want to erase that? How would an artificial intelligence understand that I valued the bad memories?

I told Chris my thoughts. "But what if an artificial intelligence couldn't tell the difference between bad or good memories?"

"Sounds like a good science fiction idea."

But I can't write science fiction, I thought. I'm not smart enough. I don't know anything about science, how could I write science fiction? So I tucked the idea away as something that someone else could write. But not me.

And I didn't write anything on that book for a year and a half. But one day, when washing dishes, I heard in my head the voice of the villain. He only said one line, which is a spoiler, but it made the rest of the book suddenly click into place. I stopped washing dishes and scrambled for my computer, typing frantically with soapy hands.

Within an hour, I had my outline.

What I didn't understand about the science behind my plot points, I researched. I live near an academic library and spent many exhausted nights over quantum computing textbooks and articles about the ethics of artificial intelligences.

In one month, I had a first draft.

In three months, I had a final draft and a thumbs up from all my critique partners.

I started querying, knowing I had lots of rejection ahead of me. Previously, I had queried manuscripts for about a year before giving up, so I expected the timeline to be similar.

I had difficult classes, which was a welcome distraction from thinking about my queries floating in cyberspace. To finish a 25-page paper, I stayed up for two nights and finally turned it in, signaling my completion of that semester. Before passing out in bed, I checked my query email. I wasn't expecting anything, really, since I'd only been querying for a month and just a few people had responded so far.

I had one email. An agent wanted to talk on the phone.

I became lightheaded. I staggered down the hall and mumbled something to Chris about "someone wants to talk" which he found hilariously ominous. I was so sleep-deprived I could barely comprehend what was happening, so I asked my husband to read the email.

"They want a phone call," he confirmed.

It was Friday, which meant the phone call was scheduled for Monday. This agent's timing couldn't have been more perfect. I think if I would've gotten their email while still writing papers, I might have failed that semester because there was no way I could concentrate on anything else.

Monday came, finally, and we had our phone call. I vibrated with anxiety the entire time. Chris had "phone call duties" which involved herding our pets, keeping them quiet, and sitting by with a notebook to write down all the key points of the call since I knew I would be utterly useless to remember anything once the adrenaline faded.

It was an offer! The agent loved my book. They had ideas for revision, which I agreed with. They were kind and supportive and had great ideas. I got off the phone with my heart soaring. They were perfect.

But then I had the task of notifying all other agents. I only had out around 20 queries, so luckily that didn't take long.

More full requests came in. Each time, I nearly threw up with stress. One agent asked for the full, an agent I'd admired for a long time, but I didn't get my hopes up. I queried them because they liked my previous manuscripts, but I always assumed dark/horror wasn't their cup of tea.

A week later, when eating salad at a restaurant with my husband, I got an email from that very agent. They wanted a phone call.

I tossed my fork and grabbed a spoon, shoveling salad into my mouth. "They want a phone call in two hours," I explained to Chris, and he too, began scarfing down food.

We raced home and I panic-prepared for the phone call. Chris resumed his "phone call duties." Can I just say thank God for supportive spouses?

The phone call happened. Another offer! The agent was absolutely incredible. They talked about the themes in the book, themes I thought most people wouldn't catch. They wanted heavier revisions than the other offering agent, but as they explained what worked and what didn't work, I made a suggestion, and they added to that suggestion. I was suddenly overcome with an itch to work on the story again, because their enthusiasm and ideas sparked my creativity.

I told the agent I was surprised they liked the book so much, since I'd always assumed they disliked horror. "Pure horror, yes," they explained, "but not books with horror elements. Plus your book reminds me of Annihilation."

I swooned. Annihilation is one of my favorite books, and I had been trying to recapture the ominous unknown fear of that book in my own.

I got off the phone, shaking. Now I had a decision to make. I loved both agents, but I could only choose one.

I made a pros and cons list. I asked my friends their opinions on each agent and their agency. I did hours of googling. Each time a new email popped up, I was actually praying it wasn't another offer. I didn't want the decision to be any harder. My deadline was soon after Christmas, so several agents did email to ask for more time. More than one said they were leaning towards offering, but that they never offer without finishing a manuscript.

After lots of stressful crying, throwing up, and cramming chocolate in my face, I had my decision.

I officially signed with Bridget Smith of Dunham Literary. She was the agent I believed I had zero chance with, but in the end, she was the one who understood my book the most. Her revision ideas were so incredibly brilliant and they made me crave writing again, which is exactly what I want in an agent.

Anyway, I know when I read these stories, I loved to see statistics, so here's the querying stats on my sci fi:

Queries Sent: 20

Rejections: 8

No Response: 4

Full Requests: 8

Offers: 2

I think if there's anything I want other writers to take from this, it's don't give up and don't self-reject. I rolled my eyes when reading that on other "How I Got My Agent" stories, but it's true. I self-rejected a LOT. I even put off writing this book, which is probably the best thing I've ever written, because I assumed I wasn't "smart enough" to write it. You can do anything if you put the work in.

Maybe it won't be this manuscript, and that's okay. Maybe your writing isn't ready. Maybe the market isn't ready. But keep going, because with each manuscript you finish, it's another step on the journey.

Speaking of, I still have another journey ahead of me, and that's revision, so I should get back to it. If you got this far, thanks for reading, and good luck!

#querying #writing #literaryagent

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baddieromanova · 5 years

Note

Why do you attack and hate people just because they don’t like Falice?

This is my first ever anon message? Okay, I normally dismiss questions like these but since it’s my first I’ll oblige:

Anon, I don’t hate and attack people for disliking Falice. I mean, if my rants and posts on social media come off that way then all I can do is apologise I guess because that’s not my intention at all but honestly I don’t give a fuck if people don’t like Falice or don’t ship them, I follow plenty of people in the fandom who don’t, we all have our likes and dislikes and ship preferences and that’s fine, what matter’s is that we’re all part of this wacky fandom together for a show we watch and simultaneously wish to get cancelled.

Now onto my actual issues; I have an issue with Falice anti’s who’s reasons for hating Falice are beyond transparent, problematic or utter bullshit, because one thing in fandoms I absolutely hate is people going out of their way to sound deep and intellectual and listing off reasons (Which isn’t a problem, we all do it) to explain why they hate a ship when in actuality, it’s really a vague, shallow or simple reason behind their disdain and if it’s not that, they’re bordering into blatant hypocrisy or just being all around fake. Allow me to explain some examples of this I’ve seen in the fandom;

1) Suddenly Gladys, a character we knew very little about for 2 whole seasons, other than the fact that she was Jughead’s mother and left her alcoholic husband because he wouldn’t get his shit together, all of a sudden has tonnes of stans and she hasn’t even appeared on screen yet. She had stans before we even knew who was playing her, and who are the very people stanning her? Take a wild guess. Only the very sub section of the fandom who spent the whole of last season bashing her for neglecting Jughead. But of course, now that Falice is happening they’ve jumped aboard the team Gladys train, not because they genuinely like her, but in the hopes that she’ll get in between Alice and FP. I mean, if they wanna stan her then great but I don’t wanna see complaints when she’s written out or killed off, seeing as she’s only being introduced to start up some Falice angst, just saying. These same people have also started a campaign against FP and Alice calling them out as bad parents. This makes me laugh because where was this energy back in early season one when FP and Alice’s parenting skills should have been questioned? That season was definitely not their peak but I think we can all agree they’ve improved vastly in the parenting department since then but back to my point. It’s almost like the lack of Falice back then had something to do with their silence on parenting skills, but maybe that’s just a coincidence

2) A lot of Falice anti’s genuinely see Hal/ Halice as a better alternative, which it isn’t. Falice has it’s problems, with FP’s alcoholism and both of their marriages still being legal and all, but honestly what fictional ship doesn’t? And fandoms are always gonna find something problematic in a ship they don’t like, but Falice are by far miles better than H/lice, this isn’t even an opinion it’s a fact. First there’s the obvious, Hal is a serial killer who tried to kill Alice and their daughter which kind of trumps every problem with Falice, but even if you take the ridiculous Black Hood scenario out of the equation and pretend that plot never happened, Hal and his marriage to Alice was/is still very problematic. There was never any chemistry between them, not much love either, they always just stuck out to me as that one lame middle aged white couple in TV dramas who seem “perfect” to everybody in town but behind closed doors it’s a different story and have spent so much time being more concerned with keeping up their white picket fence facade that they have yet to realise they don’t actually love each other, mainly because the woman knows she should have married somebody else and is still in love with somebody else, which is exactly the case for H/lice and Falice

On top of that, Hal is kind of a scumbag, even before the Black Hood plot he was a dick and radiated small dick energy 24/7. I’m not going to list all the reasons here, this post is already much longer than I intended so I’m just going to add a link to one of my anti Hal posts (X). Do I think Hal and Alice cared for each other at one point? Of course but do I ever think they were in love? Hell no. Alice saw him as a ticket out of the Southside to a better life for herself and Hal saw her as a bad girl he had a hard on for, that he could tame. If people see that as love, then I don’t know what to tell them. I mean if you hate Falice then whatever but to continue to ship Alice with Hal? Come on, at least ship her with Fred or Hermione before jumping aboard the H/lice ship

3) I’ve actually seen people who spent the whole of season two wishing for Josie and Sierra to be killed off or written out and have attacked them for breathing, conveniently stan Josie this season and demand for Josie/Ashleigh to get more screen time “because she deserves it more than Falice” (She does deserve more screen time and better treatment in general but that’s another argument for another day) and make stupid Falice and Tierra comparisons as if only one Parentdale couple can exist. And they’ve done this all just to have a dig at Falice not because they care about the Tierra ship or are tired of the only dark skin black girl being used as a prop for a bunch of white character’s storylines, never having any storylines of her own and being relegated to a human radio almost every episode. How pathetic can you get? Like, don’t piss in my ear and tell me it’s rain. Fuck outta here with your faux concern

4) I’ve seen multiple lengthy posts highlighting how “damaging” the Falice coupling is FP and Alice’s characterisation and development in general which is bullshit. The minute Alice removed Hal out of her life she became a better mother and a decent person, she was more caring and began putting her daughter’s first, over keeping up a facade for the town, she was no longer the cold heartless cow she was in earlier episodes who was putting on the perfect Stepford wife with the perfect suburban family performance and prioritising how the town saw her and her family over her daughter’s needs. As for FP’s character development and characterisation, he changed his life around for the better for his son because he wanted to do right by him. He quit drinking, got a job, attended AA, quit the Serpents and sternly said he was done with gang life (Yes we all know how that actually turned out but it’s the attempt that matters here and take the circumstances into consideration) and actually began to parent Jughead. It was a far cry from what we were introduced to in season one where we he was drinking his breakfast, lunch and dinner, deep into gang life and appeared to not give a rat’s ass that his son was sleeping on the streets.

There’s nothing wrong with having a simple or vague reason for not liking a ship, absolutely nothing at all, there’s no need to type out utter bullshit to defend your hatred for a couple. For instance, I don’t like B/ghead because they’re overrated and Roberto’s obsession with them is slowly but surely damaging the show. That’s it! You won’t see me writing lengthy think piece’s on why I hate that ship despite all the problematic aspects within the couple that I do see because I could honestly forgive and dismiss all of it if B/ghead was not constantly shoved down our throats. They would just be a ship I didn’t care about. FP and Alice’s relationship had nothing to do with their development as people/parents or their characterisation, it hasn’t regressed them in any way, shape or form seeing as they changed for the better and became much better characters before their relationship began to blossom. So all of this talk of how their relationship has ruined them as people makes me laugh. Unless I’m mistaken, FP is still showing clear character progression. Alice was also showing clear character progression towards the end of season two, we’re going to exclude the cult story line from this discussion because while it has changed Alice’s character, the Alice we know and love will return to us soon and the Falice relationship still had nothing to do with that, but if these same individuals want someone or some ship to blame for Alice’s involvement with this cult, they should actually look closer to home.

5) Linked to #2 and #4. They also claim to dislike Falice for a myriad of reasons they think are deep when in reality they just hate Falice because it interrupted their already on the verge of dying ship or crackships that involve Alice and FP and won’t (and never will) happen. I don’t like to shit on people’s shipping preferences, I’ve been on the receiving end of that shitty behaviour in fandoms and even the people working on the show before and you really can’t help who you ship at the end of the day but one thing I’ve learnt from that experience is when to give up, admit defeat and accept that your favoured ship isn’t, never will be and never was a priority to the writing crew and show runner and move the hell on. Granted I moved on from that show a little too late but what matters is I did it. I abandoned the show, fandom, cast and never looked back and felt better already because trust me, that shit takes a toll on your mental and emotional state and I was going off the deep end so it’s a good thing I left that show and fandom for good. This would’ve been the case if I shipped H/lice, the minute I fell for them would’ve been the minute I told myself not to get too invested and prepare for heartbreak because it was clear from the get go that H/lice was not a couple the writers had interest in developing or writing well. Like I said prior, they were another typical suburban couple keeping up a facade for their neighbours but deep down didn’t actually love each other and they would’ve divorced eventually and had Lochlyn written out of the show, not only because Hal and Alice didn’t love each other but also because it’s clear that for each of the teens, the writers for some reason only want one parent around for each of them, for the boys it’s their father’s and for the girls it’s their mothers (Hiram’s a different case because he’s a villain but he’ll be killed off eventually). People say the Black Hood story line was only introduced to get Hal out of the way to make room for Falice but I guarantee you, if he wasn’t the Black Hood he would’ve definitely been one of his victims. The Riverdale writers would have gone down the route of having Hal killed off because it would’ve allowed them to put Betty at the centre of the story line, something they like to do constantly but that’s also another argument for another day. If H/lice shippers had realised that and accepted it, they wouldn’t be in the predicament they’re in right now

6) People re write canon and the established history on the show and between the parents to fit their delusions and beliefs and it’s just creepy. I get coming up with theories and trying to make sense of something but there’s a fine line between theories, head-canons and refusing to accept the truth or facts. Take Charles’ paternity for instance, that’s caused up quite a stir within the fandom in general. For some reason, for the longest time people struggled with the fact that FP was the father of the baby Alice had in high school, some people still struggle with this unfortunately.

Now, I’d understand refusal to accept FP as the father or seeing this plot being a retcon or rushed or even being a little thrown off by it, IF IT WASN’T FUCKING ESTABLISHED IN SEASON ONE, WHICH IT WAS. This is why don’t understand all the debates on Charles’ paternity. The very first Falice interaction had clear implications that the two had a sexual/romantic history and we found out two episodes prior that Alice fell pregnant as a teenager, yet people can’t do the math.

#falice #anti halice #anonymous

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dr-m-r-ma · 5 years

Text

Electric Shock

Part 29/30

Genre: drama, romance Rating: PG-13 Group: Monsta X Summary of previous chapter: Shownu gives Hyo-jin a meaningful gift and they confirm their feelings for each other. However, Shownu is shocked to find out Hyo-jin disappeared without telling him and that she had planned to leave from the beginning.

Disclaimer: This is 100% fictional and my own story. It is unrelated to the actual events and real persons of Monsta X and Starship. Hyo-jin Lee is a completely made-up character that I created for this fanfic. Parts will be written in Korean with English translations. I did not major in English/Korean, nor was I ever strong in English/Korean grammar, so there will be grammatical mistakes. This is also the first fanfic I have ever written, so please overlook small mistakes. This fanfic is written in third person and past-tense for ease of writing.

(A/N: if it’s not clear, this isn’t a real article, not a real website, not a real author, not a real date!)

< The next day >

Hyo-jin wasn't aware that the original photo of her had garnered more than a thousand retweets, but when she found out, she realized Starship had already taken control of the situation. Although other people tried to repost the photo on their accounts, a couple of hours later, they'd be removed.

Hyo-jin had visited Korea a couple of times, meeting Eunbi and PD Park. She told Eunbi everything that had happened... except her feelings for Shownu. It was hard to hide Monsta X from Eunbi since she had seen their music video with Hyo-jin in it and Eunbi had pestered her about how it all unfolded. She made sure Eunbi would keep quiet about it, but Hyo-jin realized much later that it didn't even matter since legally, the contract contained nothing about after she moved back. However, she didn't want complications, so she continued to keep things under wraps from most people.

Since PD Park was one of the few who had Hyo-jin's contact information and got the rough run-down from Starship, he often messaged her with thoughtful messages and wished her well. When she met him briefly on her second trip visiting Korea, he had asked if she wouldn't consider a modeling job, that he would keep her a secret. At the time, she had simply smiled and politely rejected the offer by telling PD Park she wasn't comfortable putting herself out in public. She let him know that he would be the first person to know if she became interested in that career path. They continued to talk about her move back to the U.S. and what she was up to now.

Only when Hyo-jin arrived back to the States did PD Park explain in a message that a couple of Monsta X members, Jooheon and Kihyun, came to visit him on separate occasions a few days before Hyo-jin met with PD Park. Jooheon had asked PD Park for Hyo-jin's contact information, but of course left with nothing, and Kihyun had come for the same thing. However, when he received nothing, Kihyun asked PD Park to relay the message that though Shownu has been diligently serving in the military, there will be a news article released about his relationship with Soyou, the former Sistar member. PD Park apologized in his message, stating that he pieced everything together and now know the real reason why she left so suddenly. Hyo-jin stared at his messages for a while before replying back with a simple it's okay and thank you for telling me.

She had seen Shownu wear the cuff wherever he went, whether it was on music shows or variety shows or V-lives, but she was sure he would forget once he went to serve. However, Hyo-jin couldn't stop wearing hers even after he went into the military. She continued to wear it every day, fumble around with it and unconsciously would touch it when she was nervous or anxious. Although they were apart, it seemed the cuff could protect and calm her down. Yet... looking at the news articles open in multiple portal websites about Shownu's and Soyou's relationship, Hyo-jin held onto her cuff defensively. In the back of her mind she thought, 'no... I ended it. I can't be more selfish... than I already have been...' but she couldn't help her gut twist as she read through all the articles.

< about one and half years later >

MONSTA X WORLD TOUR - SF - MEET AND GREET/ALBUM SIGNING

"저 사람... 어디선가 본 사람 같은데..." (Translation: "I feel like I've seen... that person somewhere...") Jooheon squinted and whispered as the theater staff started to line the fans up. All the fans excitedly held tightly to their albums and many of them had gift bags for the Monsta X members.

Kihyun smiled and waved at the fans before whispering back, "그런가...? 난 잘 모르겠는데." (Translation: "Really...? I can't tell.")

Hyungwon glanced at the person they were whispering about and grumbled,"누구 부탁으로 왔나 왜 저렇게 불만있는 표정이야" (Translation: "Did she come as a favor for someone why does she look so upset") All of them looked at the girl, who seem to have noticed the attention and looked back at them. They quickly looked elsewhere and I.M. whispered, "우리 지금 다 들킨거지?" (Translation: "All of us just got caught now, right?")

Before Jooheon could rack his brains further about the girl who looked familiar, Shownu started, "둘 셋" (Translation: "Two, three")

"HOO Monsta X, hello we're Monsta X"

Fans screamed and quieted down when Shownu took his mic again. He nodded towards the translator and said, "Uh... thank you for coming... and... 기달려주셔서 고맙습니다. 곧 갈 친구들도 있지만, 지금 이렇게 7명이 같이 또 월드투어 하는게 꿈만 같네요. 어... 그럼 시작할가요?"

The translator repeated for the Korean bits: "Thank you for waiting. Although a few members will soon leave, it seems like a dream that we can have a world tour again with 7 members. Should we start?"

Fans continued to scream and yelled "Thank you Shownu" and "Thank you Wonho for coming back safely". The members sat down in their seats and fans one by one started going up the stage to meet the members. When the girl with a frown on her face stepped onto the stage and first approached Jooheon, he squinted at her for a second and smiled. Her face momentarily froze before breaking out into a small warm smile.

"오~~ 주헌이 좋아하나봐~~" (Translation: "Ooh~~ she must like Jooheon~~") Hyungwon whispered.

Jooheon opened her album and asked, "What's your name?"

"Ellen. E-l-l-e-n."

"Nice to meet you, Ellen!" he chirped, as he signed his name on his photo. She smiled and replied softly, "You still look adorable - you haven't changed in the last four years."

Jooheon stared at her for a moment, trying to process her words, and asked cautiously, "Did you come to a different meet and greet before? I feel like I've seen you somewhere too..."

"Hmm... maybe outside of an ice cream store in LA?"

Before he could continue asking her, she was ushered to the next person and the next fan was eager to grab Jooheon's attention. From Jooheon, she went on to Hyungwon, Wonho, Kihyun, I.M. and Minhyuk.

To the other members' confusion, she seemed particularly cold towards Kihyun and Minhyuk, but not obvious enough for other fans to take notice. Before moving on to the last member, Ellen leaned close to Minhyuk and whispered quite sarcastically, "Thanks for being so nice to Hyo-jin back in Korea." Minhyuk and I.M. flinched and stared at her as she sat in front of the last member, Shownu. Shownu hadn't heard what she said to Minhyuk so when Minhyuk and I.M. stared at the two of them, he stared back asking "뭐" (Translation: "What").

Ellen didn't let the other members tell him by slamming her gift bag in front of him. She took out a small leather box and a small envelope.

"Can you open them now?"

Shownu stared at her in confusion, as she wasn't smiling and the other members were nervously looking at him. Word had been passed down from Minhyuk and I.M., and all the members tried to hide their nervousness. Thankfully, none of the fans had noticed yet, but Kihyun managed to wave down one of their managers.

Shownu opened the envelope, revealing two wrinkled flimsy VIP tickets... to a Monsta X concert two years ago. He froze momentarily before carefully unfolding a small letter that was paperclipped to the tickets. It read:

"직접 얼굴 보고 주고 싶었는데... 허락 못 받고 오니까 잡혔어요. 그때... 선물을두고 떠나야했는데 제가 너무 어린 애 같이 이기적이여서 가져갔어요. 직접 주지 못해서 죄송해요. 상처줘서 미안해요. 그리고... 관심줘서, 도와줘서 너무 고마웠어요. 행복하세요. 이효진 올림."

(Translation: "I wanted to give this to you when I saw you in person... but I couldn't get permission and I got caught coming here. At that time... I should have left the present but I was too childish and selfish so I took it. I'm sorry I can't give this to you myself. I'm sorry for hurting you. And... thank you for taking interest and helping me. Be happy. Sincerely, Hyo-jin Lee.")

He slowly opened the leather box and there, the cuff he gave to Hyo-jin was neatly placed in soft bedding. It looked a little scratched, showing some wear here and there. He took it out of the box and rubbed his thumb over the words that were engraved.

"Her contract didn't say anything about after she came here, but your manager saw her by chance in line and told her she wasn't allowed to come see you." Ellen whispered to Shownu, loud enough for Minhyuk to pick up but low enough for the fan sitting next to her with heart eyes for Minhyuk couldn't hear. Minhyuk quickly whispered to I.M., repeating the words and asking for a better translation, while Shownu looked at her and asked, "Contract...? Wait, is she here?"

Before Ellen could reply, her phone lit up with a new message - from Hyo-jin - which Shownu noticed with a fast glance, and simultaneously the manager that Kihyun had waved down arrived to usher Ellen to leave. She glared at the manager and snapped, "I know, I know, I'm leaving. Hyo's waiting for me outside anyway."

At that, the fans at the table and in line started to notice the ruckus being made and people started questioning what was going on. When the manager tried to physically pull Ellen out of her seat, fans began to murmur and the other members tried to pacify the fans that were currently in front of them.

"형." (Translation: "Hyung.")

The manager turned around and looked at Shownu, who stared sternly at him. Shownu asked in a low serious voice, "이게 무슨... 얘기야? 계악? 무슨 계악?" (Translation: "What is this talk... about? Contract? What contract?")

"아무것도 아니야. 그냥 헛소리야. 지금 앞에있는 팬 챙겨." (Translation: "It's nothing. It's just BS. Take care of the fan who's in front of you right now.") With that, the manager politely smiled and ordered through his teeth, "Your time is up, please get off the stage safely."

Ellen glowered at the manager and shook his hand off her arm. She walked a few steps out before turning around facing Shownu, who was trying his best to smile at the fan in front of him, and loudly scoffed, "Protect? Protect who? From the beginning you couldn't protect her. Who protected who really?" She spun back and stomped off.

Shownu stood abruptly, causing his chair to fall backwards, and he started to make his way off the stage. Fans murmured and started asking the other members what was going on, what were they talking about, who was that girl and who is the person Shownu couldn't protect. Before he could actually step off the stage, his manager stopped him and growled, "지금 나가면 끝이다. 수습 안 하고 팬들 앞에서 이렇게 나가면 몬스타엑스는 끝이야. 괜찮겠어?" (Translation: "If you leave now it's the end. If you go without fixing the situation and leaving in front of the fans here, Monsta X is over. Will you be okay [with that]?")

His manager tilted his head at the other members and when Shownu saw the looks on their faces, he couldn't help but give up once again. He pushed his manager away and walked back to the table, taking his mic and apologizing for the confusion and ruckus. He gave an extremely vague explanation, while the manager added a lie that the girl who just left was actually a Soyou fan and was angry about the breakup articles. The manager bowed, apologized for the bad experience the fans may have felt and asked for their understanding. Shownu bowed as well, though he frowned deeply at his manager's lie, and sat down back in his seat. He took the box and letter and carefully hid them from his manager and other members.

*** Next chapter is the last chapter!! ***

#shownu fic #shownu fanfic #mx fic #mx fanfic #monsta x fic #monsta x fanfic #mx scenarios #monsta x scenarios #electric fic #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #i actually ship shownu with soyou lol so i decided to incorporate that a little #shownu #jooheon #kihyun #minhyuk

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