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bluejayblueskies · 8 months

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the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the ambition of the world | phynoma

[ID: Two pictures of two hand-bound books, the first of which shows their front covers and the second of which shows their spines and part of their front covers at an angle. The leftmost book is bound in yellow bookcloth and has a hand-embroidered smiling mouth with bloody teeth on the bottom portion of the front and back cover. The title, "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the ambition of the world" is in the top right corner in black as well as the words "volume one" in maroon. The rightmost book is bound in red bookcloth and has a hand-embroidered ribcage on the lefthand side of the front cover and the righthand side of the back cover. The title, "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the ambition of the world" is in the top right corner in black as well as the words "volume two" in white. Both volumes have stitching across the spine that joins the embroidery on the front and back covers so that the design stretches across the spine. /End ID]

It's finally time to share the books I made for the 2023 Rusty Quill Big Bang, hosted by @pilesofnonsense! This year, I was paired with the wonderful @phynoma, who wrote a post-circus AU entitled the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the ambition of the world where Jon is marked by an entity known as the Consuming that feeds off hunger and desire and focuses, in Jon's case, around sexual hunger and desire. It's a truly spectacular fic with excellent worldbuilding, spot-on characterization, and a wide variety of sexual encounters of all flavors, and I highly recommend it!

As this fic is written in transcript format, I wanted to go with an open-spine binding style that would have the advantage of both lying extremely flat when opened and giving the fic a more screenplay-like appearance. Also as a consequence of the transcript format, the final page count ended up being large enough that I split the fic into two volumes, the first of which covers season three and the second of which covers seasons four and five.

[ID: Two pictures of the same hand-bound books, the first of which shows volume one and the second of which shows volume two. Both books are fully open to display their front and back covers touching. We can see that the embroidered design, half of which is on the front cover and half of which is on the back, forms a complete picture when the book is fully open. /End ID]

Each volume has hand-embroidered front and back covers, with titles done in black, white, and maroon gel pen. The covers were designed so that when the book is fully open, the front and back cover designs come together to form one single cohesive image. Additionally, when the book is closed, the spine stitching was done so that the design stretches across the spine, thus making the full design complete whether the book is fully open or fully closed. I'm really proud of how these covers turned out, and even though the embroidery took much longer than I anticipated it taking, it's definitely something I would do again!

More description and pictures of the interior of the books are below the cut:

I went with a visually simple yet technically complex design for the typeset of this fic. Microsoft Word's styles were very much my friend, as well as its advanced find-and-replace feature, to automate a lot of the formatting for this fic. The most complex bits were the group chat excerpts and making sure all the profile pictures were positioned correctly, as well as the email chain excerpts in volume one. The text messages were done separately in an HTML workspace and then included via screenshots, and because I had an HTML/CSS text message code already sitting around from a previous project, those were relatively simple to format!

[ID: Eight pictures of the interior of the hand-bound books from previous photos. The first picture shows the title page of volume one, which has the title and author name in black and "volume one" in red, as well as a picture of a ginko tree. The second picture shows the title page of volume two, which has the title and author name in black and "volume two" in red, as well as a picture of a cherry blossom tree. The third picture shows the colophon and table of contents for volume two, highlighting the binder logos--a bluejay and a bookpress--and the faux-label table of contents title. The fourth picture shows the chapter header page for the chapter "voyeurism" in volume one, featuring brackets around the notes, content warnings, and pairings for the chapter as well as a quote from the confessions of augustine, which is separated from the warnings with an open eye graphic. The fifth picture shows the beginning of the chapter "hunger in the garden" in volume two, displaying the transcript formatting of the text as well as the faux-label chapter name on the top left. The sixth picture shows text messages in volume two, which are formatted the same as text messages on an iOS system with blue and gray bubbles and a name header that says "Jonathan Sims." The seventh picture shows some chapter text as well as a faux-office memo, done in a sans serif font, written from Elias Bouchard to the Archives team. The eighth picture shows on the left page faux emails, done in an iOS style with profile pictures for each email, and on the right page a faux-group message with profile pictures for each member and a header that labels the groupchat as the Snarkivists. /End ID]

The fonts used for this typeset were chosen based on those used for the unofficial Magnus Archives transcripts--DejaVu Sans Mono for the chapter intro pages and Libre Baskerville for the body text. I'm not 100% sure that those are the actual fonts used for the unofficial transcripts, but based on the reverse font search I did, those seem to be a close match for it.

This was a big project for me, and I'm so happy to finally see it to completion! Once again, a big thanks to Phynoma for being such a wonderful partner to work with--I'm excited to send you these books so you can see them in person 💜

#tma #the magnus archives #rqbb2023 #bookbinding #fanbinding #jay's bound books

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booksndpoetry · 26 days

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Biker and Sweetheart

Excerpt #1

A/N: Here is the first excerpt from the latest Academic Rivals to Lovers fic in the making. I haven't gotten around to writing it much but I wrote something today. Please look forward to it. Happy reading :)

m.list

"Oh my god" you chant, pacing worriedly around the corridor.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, Oh MY god. Oh my GOD-"

"If you actually say that phrase one more time, I'm actually going to hit my head against a wall.” Seungmin fixes you with a look from where he's calmly reading, unlike you who's panicking. After a beat, he drops his eyes to his phone once again.

Taking deep breaths, you wait until he's once again engrossed in his phone to let out an "Oh my goodness".

He groans so loudly, that several people stop to give him weird looks.

"Don't yell" you chide, and he scoffs at you.

"Try doing it when you're in my shoes"

"I do it every day and I'm pretty successful"

He just gives you an unamused look.

"I haven't burst any of my blood vessels around you yet, have I?" You say seriously and he gives up.

He pulls out a pair of wired earbuds and you offer a "Should've done that sooner" . He just sticks his tongue out at you. When you’re sure that he’s no longer paying attention to you, you do the same.

God, he was annoying.

#straykids fanfic #stray kids #skz seungmin #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #writing excerpt #skz imagines #stayblr #writing #+mare writes #skz #writeblr #academic rivals to lovers trope #banter #WIP excerpt

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distortedclouds · 4 months

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Clouds, hello!

For a 2023 year in review writer ask :3

1, 3, 9, 15, 19, 21, 22, 29, 30

Thank you for blessing us the past year with your wonderful stories, and once again - congratulations on finishing your magnum opus (for now; I'm sure you'll write another outstanding story if you were planning to write a long fic!) Black Water.

I said it already (many times but anyway) but I admire you a lot as a writer and I really look up to you a lot.

Heyyy Anna!!

I'm always happy to be a part of this fandom with people as talented as you! Also, the best part about writing BW was being able to share it you and everyone here ❤️

Let's get to the questions!

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

While this past year has been a wonderful and unique experience all on its own, it's gotta be writing "out of order"

Slow and Steady all happens in the same universe and the same timeline, but I wanted to try and let smaller stories flow together into one without having to worry about writing them all at that way

3. What’s something you learned about yourself as a writer?

That I get too much into a single "universe" and refuse to leave it. Im glad that this allows me to delve deeper into the characters emotions in a particular situation, but it also hinders my creativity that it becomes harder to write anything different or anything too different

Leaving is possible, but not as easy

9. What fic meant the most to you to write?

.... I tried to find a different answer, but It'd be a gross lie to say 2023 wasn't the year I posted some of the heaviest and hardest to go through chapters of BW

Thanks to BW I was able to allow myself to explore a lot of feelings and thought-patterns that I usually gloss over in my head because they're either too painful or too overwhelming to consider on my own, but in fiction, if felt more doable

15. Rec a fic you wrote or posted in 2023

It's only appropriate that I rec Slow and Steady, considering it started as a 2023 challenge (but will live on for much longer lol)

Kind of a way for me to hop between different points of their relationship without being stuck with a plot or particular narrative

19. Share your favorite opening line

The second chapter of Slow and Steady

"It’s the eighteenth day when Armin finally picks one up. It’s slim and long and surprisingly weightless where it fits effortlessly between his index and middle fingers. He wonders how much thought went into ensuring it’s as easy as possible to hold."

I love writing sad Armin who's trying to keep it together you know?

21. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

...... Anna do you know how much I wrote this year!?

on top of 8 chapters of BW ALONE

ffs

Black Water, Ch 20. Not The "pillow talk" but the part just before it. Annie isn't used to comforting and supporting Armin with words rather than actions, but this is the first time since the beginning of the timeline she does it and it'll always has a place in my heart

22. Share an excerpt from your favorite scene

Black Water, ch 17:

It was just this morning that Armin woke up alone. This same bed felt too big and too empty, with one of the pillows remaining squarely by the headboard, untouched and smoothed over. Now, it’s a mess; utter chaos. Annie has her hands in her hair, working out loose knots while leaning back on her pillow—which she’ll probably have to spend upwards of fifteen minutes working back into proper shape when they try to sleep again. The blanket resembles the peaks of high waves on a stormy day where it rests atop her knees, cascading in all sorts of ripples and wrinkles. Both towels she used are still on the floor, damp and in need of good airing so they remain smelling fresh. He tells himself that it does not matter that Annie wasn’t here this morning, or the night before, or the one to precede, but that she’s here now. That she came back and he’ll make sure to hold on to her properly this time around.

2022 was the year of making Annie suffer. 2023 was the year of making Armin suffer

29. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

To my friend from 6th(ish) grade whom I exchanged a lot of my writing with

30. What’s something that you want to write in 2024?

Something Armin-focused for sure! I've been wanting to do that for months now with no luck. Maybe this year will be it!

#ask #Annawayne

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wangxianficrecs · 3 years

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Fic Finder

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1. Hi, I'm looking for an Untamed fic, maybe you'll be able to help. It's a canon divergence AU in which WWX doesn't lose his core, Jiang Fengmian lives and it's implied that his core was transferred to JC (heavily implied; JFM retires as the Sect Leader after that). This is absolutely not the most important part of this fic but it's a paragraph that I've got stuck in my head and now I'm searching for the rest @_@ Thanks in advance! ~ @otemporaetmores

FOUND! by @notsobabblespace, who was reminded of I’m aching and I know you are too by edenwolfie (part 3 in series, M, 23k, wangxian)

FOUND! by @jim-is-spocks-thyla, who suggests ❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian) [ETA: Oops, not this one. JFM has no core, but he didn’t give it to JC]

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2. Hi Mojo! I’m in need of you/your followers help in finding a fic that I read a little while ago. It was a fic where Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi lived together in Cloud Recesses and their children were Sizhui and an OOC that was younger than him. I remember SiZhui faced a lot of criticism for not being the chief cultivator’s real child? And they were happy he had a younger sibling that would be sect leader in the future because he was blood. Come to think of it, this is probably an ABO fic too. Thanks for your time 💜

FOUND! @andidontmeanto believes this is Blue Blood by PotterheadAvengerDemigod (T, 91k, wangxian, my post)

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3. Aksks it's like 3 am but I just remembered a fic and I can't find it?? I'd really, really appreciate your help. It was a wangxian fic, maybe a oneshot idk, and lwj was kind of a nerd and wwx a badboy? So basically lwj has a massive crush on him and dresses up like wwx etc. (i think he even got an undercut) and after a party they sleep with each other at lwj's place?

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4. i’m looking for a fic set in the where lwj’s mother killed his father? i don’t think that was a main plot point but it did show up in his backstory - any idea what this might be? ~ @thehype

FOUND! @rentslirott thinks this could be ❤️the best of you by sysrae (E, 42k, wangxian, my post)

FOUND! @castaways-logbook offers The Right to Care by travelingneuritis (E, 39k, wangxian, WIP)

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5. ... same as #6 ...

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6. Hello friend, sorry for the inconvenience but I wanted to see if you could please find me a fic that I lost but I only remember more or less the final part, it goes more or less like this, lan zhan and wei ying are kidnapped by jin guangyao and lock them up if not I'm wrong in some cells next to lan xichen after the fights jin guangyao dies but lan xichen did know how bad jin guangyao had done and he didn't care and then to get revenge he wants to kill wei ying but lan zhan kills him and sizhui gets scared It was more or less like that, please help me ~ @isa0123lol

FOUND! by @wangxiansfics who says that tragically it’s no longer available, but @dulachodladh found it on WaybackMachine here: Thread and Needle by haysel (M, 86k, wangxian)

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7. Hi, Mojo! I'm glad that you're back but I hope you enjoyed your time off tumblr! Can you and/or your followers help me find a fic? I think the summary was talking about wwx and somehow they were asking mingjue for help since he's the only one who can help. The summary was in italics and it's a dialogue from some guy? And a shorter summary below. Sadly this is the only thing I can remember but I hope you can still help me

FOUND! @alwayswenning suggests love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, has it’s own fanfic here, I just finished this last night!, my bookmark)

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8. Sorry to bombard you as soon as you're back, but this one's driving me crazy--a modern AU where they met online. WWX thinks LWJ is an old man from how he talks. I don't remember much except the excerpt made it seem like he still was amused by/enjoyed talking to him, and Wen Qing was telling him it was a bad idea and to stop. It's not How to Fall In Love With a Catfish, tho that one is brilliant! (Also any top notch identity porn would be great) Hope your break was restful, you deserve it! Thanks

Here’s my #identity porn tag, but I’m not sure about this exact story.

I'm the anon for #8 on the fic finder. Though I'm excited to read it, the suggested fic isn't the one I was looking for. I swear I thought I saw it on here around a month ago or slightly more, but searches have failed me.

FOUND! Rating: General Audiences by Mishaa (T, 18k, wangxian WIP) - mysterious author LWJ (speculated to be an old man because of his formality) and infamous artist WWX paired up for an Untamed Big Bang (in an AU where JGY was the series’ antiheroic protagonist; this fic was written before the release of CQL.)

FOUND? could you be looking for Something Real by Latios (G, 5k, wangxian, my post) - wwx thinks lwj is an old man, but there’s no WQ. There are many pictures of bunnies.

SIMILAR! @emilysidhe thought of ID Bro Saga by Bowandtie (T, 39k, wangxian)

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9. Hey, how are you? Could you help me please? I've read 3 fanfics once, but I can't find them anymore. 1 - Nanny Problem, Wei is going to be the babysitter of A-Yuan, he is an omega and Lan is an alpha. 2 - Doctor Perfect, Yibo is an omega nurse and Xiao is an alpha doctor. 3 - The Baby of my Omega, Yibo is omega and Xiao is alpha, both of them are bodyguards, but Yibo has to protect Xiao in the beginning. I think they were at ao3, but I really can't find them. Can you help me please? Thank you!! ~ @weallmad

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10. Hi! Im happy you’re back. I hope you had a good break. I missed your recommendations, but at the same time i got a break from fics and actually studied to my tests haha. [Ah! I’m glad to hear your time was spent productively!] I’m looking for a fic like Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground. In the fic im looking for wangxian slowly lose their senses instead of all of them at once. Like they lose their hearing, then touch, sight etc, They can’t see each other or hear each other. I’m sorry i can’t explain very well.

FOUND? Could you be thinking of ❤️shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (E, 25k, wangxian)? Only lwj losese his senses one by one in this one, though.

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11. heyyy im trying to find this fic where wwx died the first time he was thrown in to the burial mounds then 10 years later he gets resurrected or something. I can't find it on AO3 and it's been bugging me for days. Thank you!

FOUND! Well, @moku-youbi offers both of these as possibilities:

Did I Not Explain Why the Sunset Turns Red? by 3988Akasha (E, 100k, wangxian)

we're starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 95k, wangxian)

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12. Hi I am looking for a fic where wwx is a witch (/mage?) in a world where magic is being persecuted (especially in Gusu) except for Yunmeng/Lanling I think but they're still frowned upon nonetheless. Then after accidentally hurting Shijie, wwx runs away, and ends up hiding in Gusu pretending to be a servant to lwj (lwj is a prince, lxc is the emperor) but lwj actually knows of his identity and tries not-so-discreetly to protect him from being caught. Thanks!

FOUND! by @bibliobasilisk who gives us Witchfinder by misbehavingvigilante (E, 86k, wangxian)

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13. Hi! Firstly, I'm glad to see you're back, and I hope your break was a good one! I'm trying to find a LWJ/WWX story that I had planned to read and ending up losing before I could. It was set in the immediate aftermath of the 33 lashes, LWJ is in the Jingshi recovering when a healer(?) discovers he's pregnant (by WWX). It may have been a/b/o verse, but I'm not 100% on that. Part of the story was a flashback to when WWX was still alive. Thank you!

FOUND! by nonny themself. It’s Unexpected Surprise by Glucose_Gremlin (E, 4k, wangxian)

SIMILAR! @mondelgel suggests my heart is kept as pure as ice in a jade vase/一片冰心在玉壶 by Daledesu (M, 21k, wangxian, WIP)

SIMILAR! from @impending-cuttlefish: something new, something white, something blue by ariskamalt (E, 140k, wangxian, WIP)

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14. I'm trying to find this one fic where Jin Ling finds this diary that Wei Ying wrote as the Yiling Patriarch that basically reveals everything, including the golden core reveal and it even has training tips that helps Jon Ling improve. When Wei Ying comes back, he tries everything to keep him there because he is THE best uncle now. I need to find it because it is a N E E D.

FOUND? by @theladypeartree who says, “The Truth (Untold) is jl reading jyl's journals, not wwx's though. And mordant is jl returning wwx's journals that he found, not grew up with. Neither fit #14 properly, but I seriously could not find anything closer after two solid days of searching. Good luck!“

The Truth (Untold) by anxiouswreck0_0 (g, 3k, wangxian, jin ling & wei wuxian)

or this one on ffn:

mordant by tennisnotensai (M, 18k, wangxian, here’s the link for mobile)

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15. I have heard tell of a Sizhui/Jingyi fic where the boys end up going to Wangxian for advice about how to be intimate. Can you help me find it?

FOUND! @manaika-chan says this one is On Advisement by LaMachina17 (M, 19k, wangxian, zhuiling, chengyi)

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16. nm

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17. Hi! Sorry, do you happen to know that nsfw fic where wwx is still studying in the cloud recesses and he’s reading a novel (im not sure if it was from nhs) that features a cultivator couple and there’s a scene in the book where the woman was pegging her husband? Basically wwx got curious about this and tried fingering himself. I remember he was hiding in the back mountains and then lwj eventually caught him

FOUND? Could you be thinking of Deep in the Woods by malkinmalkout (E, 5k, wangxian, my post)?

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18. Ahhh I'm going crazy trying to think of a fic that I've read where Lan Zhan killed Wen Chao in a locker room and nie huaisang stood guard outside the door! Then lan zhan went to lan huan and said I killed someone and he said did they deserve it? Then it's fine. And I can't remember the name of the fic! Have you heard of it? ~ @uchihaautumn

FOUND! @artemisisdiana offers So Full Of Love (Wouldn't Know Where to Start) by witchupbitch (M, 54k, wangxian, WIP)

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19. Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find a fic. I read it a while ago and I don't really remember all the details but it was a modern au where Lan Wangji was a police officer in this small town and Wei Wuxian comes back after years, having left the town due to some stuff. Thank you in advance.

Btw love your blog. I live for your fic recs. [Thank you!]

FOUND? Could you be looking for medium blues by dark_and_terrible (E,193k, wangxian)? It appears to be taken down atm, but it might come back (it’s done it before).

FOUND! by @grannyweatherwaxshat who offers When a Bird Flies, It Leaves Feathers by Bem_Kofi (not rated, 75k, wangxian)

~*~

20. Hi mojo!! First of all I luv your blog Thank you so much for all those ficrecs. [You’re welcome!] Actually I’m looking for a fic I read months ago. I probably found the fic from your blog. But I can’t seem to find it now 😢 it was a modern au wangxian fic (inspired by call me by ur name?) wwx was like 5 years older than lwj. (And lwj was like 16?) Wwx lives in another city but he spent around a year in cloud recesses with lwj in the past. And wwx yanli and jc visits cloud recesses again and wangxian gets 2gether

~*~

[My ko-fi.]

#wangxian fic finder #wangxian #mdzs fic finder #wangxian fic rec

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Dear Diana,

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Spencer can’t stop gushing about how much he loves you to his mom. What happens when he leaves it in a place where someone can find it before he sends it off?

A/N: | Original Request |This took way longer then I would’ve liked, but I’m really really happy with how it came out. It also kind of spawned a non-linear series I’m starting called Spencer Reid & Letters. I loved this request so much 🥰 @spencers-dria came up with the amazing title for this fic that really helped me get the ball rolling, thank you ☺️ I’ve got another fic out tomorrow as well!! Requests are open and thank you for reading!

Warnings: Spencer being guilty about not visiting his mom as much & Secret Relationship (Because their relationship hasn’t been going on for very long)

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.7k

Letters may be regarded by most as a form of communication that has been rendered obsolete by the sands of time. But, there was something different about writing a letter rather than sending a simple email, shooting a text, or even calling someone. The act of writing out your thoughts so carefully crafted for the intended individual before being sealed away and sent off, made every word just that much more special.

Spencer and you both put letters on a pedestal of importance, you both cherished when words were written down in ink and given a sort of permanence in the world. You knew that Spencer wrote a letter to his mom everyday, to Diana, the woman who had raised the genius you loved even after just a few short months of dating. Diana was held in such high regard by Spencer, once he had opened up to you about her condition and you had assured him the stories about her immediately started flowing.

He was writing one of those lovely letters to her now you observed as you sat across from your own desk. You had been able to observe Spencer writing his letters a few times before even before you two had started dating, the one he was writing right now was decidedly different. As his pen scurried across the paper in a fast pace you wondered if maybe he was writing someone else of importance. When he wrote his letters to Diana they were normally carefully curated works of art, using any time he had to craft the perfect words to tell her about his day. He once told you he did this because of his guilt from not going to visit her as often as he’d like, which only made you want to tell him that even though you had never met her that she was in no doubt proud of her only son.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his frantic writing while taking a sip of your own coffee, one that was almost just as full of sugar as Spencer’s. The thought that maybe he was writing to Ethan crossed your mind, they hadn’t talked in quite a while. You were still wondering about what the letter contained, hoping mostly that it wasn’t anything concerning or serious that was causing him to frantically write. However, the large stack of paperwork still unfinished stole back your attention for the moment

——

The letter came back to the front of your mind when Morgan got up to peer over at what Spencer had been writing after he got up to go get a fresh cup of coffee. You immediately stood up to protest, you didn’t want him prying into Spencer’s privacy. But, before you could move your feet fast enough to make the small distance from your desk to Spencer's, Morgan was already right in front of you.

“You and Spencer? You- and Pretty Boy?” You sputtered at his words, unable to come up with an immediate response that would deflect his line of questioning. How had he found out?

Looking down slightly you noticed the letter that Spencer had been penning before he had gotten up to make his coffee, he must have put something into his letter for Diana that had Morgan connect the dots. The way you floundered when Morgan questioned you was definitely extremely suspicious to him, but you decided to object to his ‘assumptions’. However, you were quickly cut off by Morgan starting to read and excerpt from the stolen letter,

“Normally, I would never go to the park to go to a picnic, but there’s something about Y/N that makes all the statistics about germs fall from my head. The time we spent there had been like being stuck in an idyllic paradise, though I’m convinced it would’ve been perfect no matter where we had gone, as long as Y/N was there. Mom, I think I’m falling in love with them.”

The words made your stomach dance with butterflies, you yourself had told Spencer that you were falling in love with him the week prior. You hadn’t been offended at all when Spencer couldn’t quite find the words to reciprocate right away, only saying a quiet me too when he thought you had been asleep. That alone had meant so much to you, you knew that the fact that he was starting to open up to you meant a lot for him and you didn’t want to push him at all.

“It- It hasn’t been very long…” There was no way you could deny what Morgan had read outloud, unless you wanted to call Spencer a liar, which he definitely wasn’t. The date that he had been writing about was just as he had described, it had been perfect in every way.

“How long? Morgan looked smug at your confirmation, almost like he had seen this coming. But, you knew just by how his voice sounded when he had first questioned you that he had been surprised.

“We just hadn’t gotten around to telling you all yet.” You hadn’t wanted to confirm exactly how long it had been going on, not wanting to make it anymore of a big deal then it already was.

“How long?” He pried again, not discouraged at all despite your obvious deflection.

“What’s going on?” Ah, Spencer was back. You cursed a little under your breath, you had wanted to do this on your own terms. Even Hotch didn’t know yet and you both were technically supposed to already disclose it with HR.

“The thing I love most about Y/N- Well, I can’t really pick. I love everything about them.” You cringed when Morgan started reading again. You were definitely happy about what Spencer had written, but you would have rather explained the situation to Spencer yourself. Morgan then rolled up the letter, then smacking it on Spencer’s head before asking again, “How long?”

“Four months, we wanted to wait a bit before telling everyone else.” Spencer piped up shyly, taking a big gulp of his coffee after he had spoken to partially hide his blushing features.

“Four months?!” Now it was his turn to sputter, though his disbelief quickly disappeared and was replaced with a burning question. “Can I tell Garcia?”

You looked sideways at Spencer silently asking with your eyes if it was for Morgan to share his ‘findings’ with the rest of the team. The rosey blush on his cheeks deepened a bit more as he nodded in agreement. His flushed cheeks were probably due to the anticipation of the relentless teasing we would now get from the team, but you knew they’d be doing it out of love for you both. You then confirmed bashfully,

“You can tell Garcia, Morgan.”

“She won’t believe me unless she has proof.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you both, subtly asking permission to show the letter Spencer had written. Sighing deeply you were about to say no when another voice interjected.

“You can show her.” Surprising you Spencer spoke, agreeing to let Morgan show Garcia the letter, though his cheeks looked impossibly red at this point. Morgan was awash with glee at his words and immediately turned to go towards Garcia’s bat cave.

“Hey- Garcia! Look at this letter Pretty Boy was writing!” You knew once Penelope got a hold of it there was no way it wasn’t spreading to the rest of the team, and probably the whole building. But, you didn’t mind, even though the contents of the letter still made you blush hard. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that Spencer had said all those things about you and- the fact that he wanted to share every word with everyone.

“Why did you agree to let him show her? I don’t mind at all, I just-” You blurted out loud to him then trailing off when your words started to lose their confidence. Again, you didn’t mind if the team knew, you just didn’t think Spencer would want to be so open so soon. Spencer made his way back to his desk, new cup of coffee in hand, totally unfazed by your words.

“I decided I want everyone to know exactly how I feel about you.” You looked over at him with wide eyes, stunned into silence by his simple words that made your heart flutter and swell. When he noticed that you were still processing his words he turned around from his pursuit to his desk to press a kiss to your forehead before going back to work.

—-

Later that day in your apartment after work, you sat down to write a letter of your own. The letters you wrote were always composed at the same place, the desk that sat in your apartment was almost solely used for said letters, which was unlike Spencer who wrote them on any surface he could (As long as it was clean).

After Morgan’s discovery, the rest of your work day had been filled with questions bombarded at you by everyone that the letter had been spread to. Instead of focusing on that and excitedly answering questions that were thrown at you, your mind was fixated on something else. You couldn’t stop thinking about who the discovered letter had been intended for in the first place, Spencer’s mom. The fact that Spencer had wanted to share all of his feelings about you to Diana made your heart burst.

The letter you had sat down to write was intended for her as well, you wanted her to know your own feelings for Spencer and to assure her that you would take care of him. At first all the words that you could use to describe your feelings for Spencer seemed impossible to be able to write down, but you decided to take a cue from Spencer. Instead of carefully crafting every word you were going to say to her you just began to furiously write.

Dear Diana,

—

Tag list (Message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky

Spencer Reid/CM

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

Spencer Reid & Letters Series: (Group of Unlinked fluff fics about Spencer and Letters)

@sierraraeck @90spumkin

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #requests #completed request

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andfollowthesun · 2 years

Text

✨ Annual Writing Self-Evaluation 2021 ✨

thank u @quelsentiment for the tag! this is atrociously late but nevertheless:

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 16 2. Word count posted for the year: 132,643 3. Fandoms I wrote for:

star wars

check please

witcher

1d lmao

4. Pairings: .... lots lmaooooo i have a short attention span.

star wars: finnpoe, dinluke, obikin, obianidala.

omgcp: nurseydex, pbj

witcher: yenralt, geraskefer

1d: ot5, zouis, narry

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: sit down, breathe, and just listen

(ok the fic above is my most popular by kudos, bookmarks, & comments!! so not gonna relink it 3 times lol)

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

it tells us to seek shelter, my obianidala everybody lives au bc i went into a huge deep dive of motherhood, and padme's legacy....... it's probably the fic that made me think most deeply about a character!

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

hmm probably if it matters, and if you notice. i adored working w the artist on this for the check please big bang, but as much as i love ocean's 11 and heists, i am just really terrible at writing action scenes. i tried to skip past the action scenes in this fic and just do what i was good at but it doesn't capture the same pizzazz as the movies. oh well!

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

a comment on it tells us to seek shelter that said i had a great grasp on tension and narrative....... bruh.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

after i finished the first draft of i had no map when i started and now here i am (somewhere real called loving you) i had a full on crisis bc i panicked i a) wasn't portraying the boys accurately, and b) didn't give their relationships with one another and all the complications that would come with a reunion the justice that it deserved. almost completely chickened out and threw out the whole thing lol

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

again, in it tells us to seek shelter i wasn't intending to write about padme & leia at all, but as soon as i started thinking about padme and who she would be if she survived mustafar, there wasn't anyway i couldn't not write about the anxieties she'd have for her children, and how that could strain her relationship with them.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

From even in jest, or as an afterthought:

She stands up and shoulders him out of the way, clanging a pan onto the stove and flinging open the fridge so hard it slams against its own hinges. She’s mad at herself for bringing it up, for ruining a nice morning by saying it out loud, and she’s mad that she’s mad, and guilty, and all mixed up.

“Hey.” He touches her shoulder lightly, and it makes her furious.

“What,” she snaps, swinging around. She’s holding a carton of eggs in one hand, and her movement slams it directly into his chest. There’s an audible crack, which ruins their plans of omelettes for breakfast.

He looks at her searchingly. Takes the broken eggs from her hands, tosses them in the bin. Sticks two slices of bread into the toaster.

“I don’t hate you anymore,” he says, eyes still glued firmly on the toaster. She feels the fight leave her. They stand in silence until the toast pops up.

“And anyway,” Jaskier says, plating the toast, and pulling out the spreads from the pantry. “He’s not here.”

There isn’t anything Yennefer can say to that. 12. How did you grow as a writer this year:

forced myself to write humour, and do a proper examination of the interactions between friends. it's surprisingly difficult to distill the weird-ass conversations you have with close friends into something that's enjoyable for someone else to read lmao.

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

hmmm! hopefully i'll be able to write something longer!

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@spookside @defiantgalaxy genuinely do NOT know where i would be without you two holy shit thank you for cheerleading and editing !!!!

@usetheforce everytime i wrote a particularly angstly obi-wan scene i'd think first, "i am the only person who'd want to read this", and then "actually, nope, denims will want to read this". thank u for ur comments <3 <3 <3

fandom giants spqr, and jibrailis (on ao3), who all taught me about writing humour, character introspections, and the joys of writing a specific industry/profession in a way that's knowledgeable and exciting but not alienating.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO don't need the city (don't need proof). yeah. on a lighter note, the hospital scene in twist a little closer now really did happen to me lol. and of course, all i can remember is, which is inspired by a real tradition in a friend's hometown.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

uh. don't write linearly? whenever i felt like i was getting blocked on one scene i would just hit enter a bunch of times and start another scene. you can always rearrange/edit/cut scenes later, but your confidence always just shoots up when there are actual words on the page.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

got a narry fic currently going thru editing phase, and some jotted down notes for another one that i might finish at some point. plus the beginnings of a lilo fic where they run a local government campaign ..... unsure where it's gonna go though. i guess we'll see!

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read

anybody who wants to do it!! i love reading these :)) happy new year, and a blessed 2022 for everyone !

#personal #this was fun!!!!#it was so good to get back into writing fic this year. i'm not joking when i say it probably saved me #jo writes fic

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tatiana-petrovna · 3 years

Note

For the fanfiction writers ask: 16, 21, 34

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

• Smol x Tol is a requirement not a request

• Arranged marriage AU queen 👑

• No one else challenges me mentally or physically but you

• Bodyguard AU’s (bonus points if her parents are never around and she’s a Poor Little Rich Girl™️)

• We meet in our dreams AU

• Somehow I keep falling into another plane or realm and you only exist there and “we” only exist there and slowly I start to spend all my time and energy on being with you and completely losing my whole life in the “real world”

• Captive/Captor AU’s (think Briseis and Achilles but I’m not above a good old fashioned bank robbery gone tits up I’m an equal opportunity slut for Stockholm Syndrome)

• We had a past life together and we only remember flashes but the energy is still there between us and it’s undeniable - however, being together would completely dismantle our present day lives

• This can’t last and it’s not meant to, but I’ve been through a lot and you’re a very nice resting place for now

• I’m a brat, but vulnerable only with you. You’re an asshole, but soft only with me. I don’t hate anyone else but you. But I don’t love anyone else either.

• We’ve both been through trauma no one else understands so we don’t really know how to trust or love anyone else, but no one would ever be accepting of us being together (yes I meant to google Lucrezia and Cesare Borgia)

• Honestly, anything where the shtick is ‘we’re really not supposed to be doing this’ bonus points for sneaking around and loads of pining angst about it

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

I’m about to lose so many followers 🙈

#1 always - AEGON THE CONQUERER X RHAENYS TARGARYEN (ASOIAF)

Max x Audrey (Gossip Girl)

Sarah Cameron & Rafe Cameron (OBX) (yes I know they’re related no I don’t care)

Ciri x Geralt (The Witcher, more the video games and the books than the tv show)

Javier Peña (Narcos) x Helena (Narcos) x Santiago Garcia (Triple Frontier)

Robb x Sansa or Jon x Sansa or Robb x Jon x Sansa (ASOIAF) (who is GoT don’t know her)

Sookie Stackhouse x Jason Stackhouse (True Blood) (watch the first episode again and tell me I’m wrong lol)

Eric x Four (Divergent) (books not the movieverse)

Becca x Lucas (Banshee)

Cassie x Nate (Euphoria) (yes I know it wouldn’t work leave me alone) (all I’m saying is, Nate spent a lot of fucking energy trying to get McKay to NOT date Cassie and Nate would never have made Cassie get an abortion)

Mal x Evie (Descendants)

Elsa x Kristoff (Frozen)

Tink x Hook (Peter Pan universe - more the books than any of the movies) (in the second Peter Pan book she is literally lost to the group and found locked up in the captain’s quarters among Hook’s treasure on his ship don’t come for me Barrie shipped it too)

Freya x Freyr or Freya x Fenrir (Norse mythology)

Morgan x Arthur (Arthurian legend)

Lucifer x Eve or Lucifer x Lilith (biblical mythology NO I’m not talking about Lucifer the show lol I’ve never even watched it and I won’t)

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

From “Through the Lake”, a Grishaverse fic I wrote 5 years ago but never posted (Darkling x OFC)

They’ve begun travelling now. He likes to stay diplomatically relevant. Likes to be known to the kings and queens of lands beyond Ravka. Because the otkazat’sya Lantsov king is weak and stupid. She knows. She’s met him many times. And she met his father before him. She’s dined with their ambassadors and danced with their advisors (Shadow likes to show her off as his little relic. His little stolen child, kept as a pet the same way fairies of old would keep children from her world. It is also a very clear piece on the chess board. Look what I have. Look what she can do. Know your place).

“Lantsov is lucky anyone even continues to acknowledge him as king. If I were a queen, the only diplomat I would sit down with is you.” She’s known her Shadow a hundred years now. She cannot fathom why anyone still bows to the Lantsov king.

“Do I not treat you with all the adoration and reverence due a queen?” He asks in response, ignoring her statement for the moment. Though it strokes something warm and needy inside him to hear her say it.

They’re in Kerch. A disgustingly wealthy merchant’s villa is their home for the night. At his table they dined on sweet-buttered grouse and roasted kale and salted caramel cake.

The back of his ungloved finger traces her neck as she takes her jewelry off and lets her hair down. The touch flares her power with a shivering thrill of electricity. Unable to help herself, Jo flexes her abilities enough to let him know not to push her. The air in the room compresses for a moment until all sound is narrowed down, resting on the pin of a needle and ringing in his ears. Thirty seconds go by. Finally, she lets up and he has to grip the window sill as his lungs drag desperately for oxygen.

“What?” He half snarls, half chokes. Jo is shown more favor than anyone else at his court by far. He’s never lavished another with the same attention and devotion he pours over her. He’s never trusted anyone enough to allow them so close. But he’s careful to keep her loyalties where they belong. Uses her power to keep the other Grisha in check. To keep their eyes fixed with jealousy so they’ll never look upon her with love. So she has no other confessional but him. So she can never hold anything she knows to his throat. Even if she thought to overthrow him and seize power for herself, they would never follow her. They’d wear her bones first.

“You know what. Do not dare to play the victim with me.” They argue as if they’re married. And maybe in a way they are. Promises forever unbroken. Loyalty carried to the grave. Secrets pressed between them for centuries, that no one else could ever unfold.

Swallowing, he swipes away the blood dripping from his nose with the handkerchief in his pocket. Glances out the window, partly guilty and partly annoyed that the girl can even make him feel guilt.

“You know why I can’t let you stay.” They’ve been over this a hundred thousand times. He won’t have her for one lifetime when he needs her power for much longer than that. And perhaps, a part of him needs her to be hungry for him. To know she’s in Duluth salivating at the mouth to get back here. Perhaps he’s scared that if he gives her all she wants of him, of Ravka, she’ll have her fill and go back for good.

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chikabika · 3 years

Text

Fic ideas I have rattling around in my head that I need to write down somewhere but don’t want to commit a whole doc to all of them (this got longer than I thought):

1. Trans Childe Usopp meeting Kaya through her parents. As a child one of them is his primary care physician (which would make sense with such a small town) and he goes regularly for hormone blockers (trans boy hours).

2. The Hair One (self insert town) THIS incredible image which Usopp looks very attractive in gave me this idea:

Pre-TS: Something something he has to let his hair down because his bandana got damaged or lost. Next island they go to everyone’s like “wow he’s so attractive”. Maybe a comedically large group of girls following him around or something. Sanji’s dying because it’s extremely unfair (in his mind) for Usopp to get all the attention. Has a scene where Usopp is trying to buy a new bandana and the doorway of the shop is blocked by bodies.

I could turn this into an usolu fic where Luffy realizes his feelings once Sanji starts bringing up the idea of dating any of the people smitten over Usopp, but honestly I just want to make a whole town that’s a self insert of how I felt the first time I saw this image. Sorry to folks who don’t think this is a great look but I’m different.

3. The Long One (Luffy’s Response to Realizing Usopp has Feelings) Back before @ruskaina wrote the very cute impossible and self-imposed, they posted some excerpts and were asking for help. The following is my response and some bits from the resulting conversation with @bartolomeo-the-cannibal (natsu)

I think you could definitely go the route of Luffy not being flustered because he doesn’t realize why it affects Usopp so much/that Usopp’s actions have certain meaning. When it’s all fun and games you can go pretty far with friends for the lols. I definitely remember being a teen and like playing the “are you uncomfortable yet” game and stuff. But when there are feelings involved everything gets a little more vulnerable.

And then once he realizes he could be inexperienced with what to do with someone’s crush on him. Or not wanting to hurt Usopp’s feelings. Or he wasn’t aware that was even on the table and now has to think about it some (which is significant for him since he acts more on instinct. But crew and crushes can be delicate matters and he knows this now.)

I think what I’m getting at is that my answer to “what is something Luffy wouldn’t expect Usopp to do” is Usopp be serious (maybe in a moment of goofing off) about his own feelings.

Luffy cares about his crew and I think someone having feelings for him and being serious about it would be something he’d take seriously.

Usopp’s already so insecure pre-ts, imagine the internal conflict having a crush on your captain/the future pirate king

natsu: it would be super conflicting cause yea he's the captain but he's also his silly buddy usopp hunts beetles with. it's easy to forget luffy is so important, and the captain.

which is why water 7 happened lol

me: He would! But I wonder if Usopp would downplay the feelings and kind of play it off to satisfy luffy’s curiosity (because he thinks that’s the only thing Luffy could feel about romance ) And Luffy letting him go but Usopp being like “well fuck guess the cat’s out of the bag and he doesn’t return my feelings”

natsu: usopp: i gotta go immediately

me: I think Luffy’d know Usopp was lying to some extent but let him go because he’s clearly very uncomfortable. And yeah I could see Luffy pushing but maybe he still worries about water 7. Just a lil bit. Or something.

Luffy doesn’t know how romantic shit works! He only knows about the romance of adventure!

Luffy would usually bring something up immediately but this time is different from when like vivi was trying to be a martyr or whatever. And Usopp’s not about to bring it up again!! Luffy clearly didn’t return the feelings! And jeez was he just a fool for getting a crush on Luffy anyway? Like what kind of dream is brave warrior of the sea in the face of pirate king? Luffy was the sun and Usopp was just a normal guy! And yes they were also friends and he knew Luffy loved him just like Luffy loved the rest of the crew. But romance felt different. Or at least, the lead weight in his gut right now felt different. Damn, why had he said anything in the first place?

natsu: ahhhhhh! ok. get them outta that! how does usopp realize luffy DOES like him

me: They get over the initial awkwardness some Luffy asks Usopp or other people about romance and what it feels like (Sanji is incredibly unhelpful but is the first person Luffy goes to)

Luffy has a hard time figuring out how a crush/SO is different from a good friend (maybe this is when he asks Usopp because usopp’s the only one he knows who has a crush. It goes....kind of okay)

Usopp starts trying to let go of his feelings. Not read into Luffy’s behavior, not hope. Starts actively countering the thoughts in his head. Meanwhile Luffy is mulling things over, kind of developing a sense of romance, maybe an appreciation of it. Thinks it could be nice to kiss Usopp (he’s seen robin and Franky do it and they’re married so that’s probably a couples thing).

Usopp practically convinces himself he doesn’t have feelings anymore! It’s fine! It’s not hard at all! It doesn’t hurt at all!!!!!

Something happens. Could be life threatening, could be mundane. But suddenly Luffy’s like “I’ve got a pit in my stomach and I’ve literally never felt this it’s fucking awful” He goes to chopper. Nothing’s wrong. He goes to Sanji. Nothing new with the food for allergies to be a concern. Besides: it’s Luffy. He sees Usopp (laughing, being gorgeous, goofing off, tinkering, whatever. Something that’s like “oh yeah that’s Usopp and something to appreciate about him”) Luffy finally goes to Usopp and is like “hey I think you’re giving me a stomach ache?” And Usopp’s like “oh NO I’ve given Luffy anxiety!!!” But they talk and fumble and realize Luffy has a crush on Usopp and Usopp has one back (still, ofc) and it’s happily ever after.

4. Wedding: They’re getting maaaarried! Born from the same conversation with natsu (in fact it transitioned in almost immediately after the above).

Luffy wants to officiate but Nami won’t let him. Nami is Luffy’s best “man”, Sanji is Usopp’s, Zoro officiates. Franky and Brook bawl their eyes out. Chopper is the ring bearer, maybe with Robin. Nami has a deathhawk and wears a suit.

Vows:

Luffy: I’ve got two kinds of stomach ache. One is for food one is for Usopp Usopp, crying as they exchange rings: that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said

Their wedding audience: the fuck?

I’ve just realized I could put this all in one document. Here it is for your enjoyment as well though.

#usolu #lusopp #usopp #luffy #one piece #stoatwrote #fic ideas

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suttttton · 3 years

Note

groundhog day?! 👀👀👀 i love time loops alsdghkagsdh blease

Groundhog Day is about our dear Elias getting stuck in a time loop between the day before the Unknowing (when he’s briefing everyone) and (more or less) the apocalypse. It starts after he dies in the original apocalypse, so he initially thinks it’s his second chance to create an apocalypse where That Doesn’t Happen. Then when he gets sent back again soon after the second apocalypse starts he thinks maybe the Eye wants Jon to fully embrace Beholding?? Then when that still doesn’t work he’s like??? Okay maybe the Eye cares about the rest of these people for some reason and I need to get them all to become full-fledged avatars??? And that goes on for. A while. Just Elias trying every way he can think of to start the apocalypse and continually failing.

Eventually, his desire for power dissolves beneath the weight of his desire to not be caught in this time loop anymore. He decides that the way to break the time loop is to simply not start the apocalypse. Easy. He abandons everyone at the Institute without a word of explanation and goes into “retirement”. And then eight months later Jon just??? Appears in his basement??? In real bad shape, covered in spiderwebs, desperately needing a statement. So Elias finds one for him, and wouldn’t you know it?? The Webpocalypse starts.

Luckily, the time loop resets again. Now Elias knows that he can’t just leave Jon to his own devices, he needs to steer him away from getting marked. But the thing is. Why would late s3 Jon ever, in a million years, listen to Elias’ advice? So Jon just keeps throwing himself in front of danger and Elias has to keep running after him, having the worst time trying to stop the apocalypse and completely regretting all of his previous choices. It’s great.

Also slowly, slowly, slowly, Elias falls deeply and inescapably in love with Jon. This fic has a lot of really fun, borderline crack scenes (and a lot of really terrible scenes where Elias brutally murders people we like), but I’m really, seriously hoping that i can pull off this complicated one-sided romance thing. What do you do when the person you love is a living testament to your sins? (Answer: You give up everything for them)

This answer is already really long but I’m going to put an excerpt under the cut anyway because I just wrote this scene a few nights ago, and I like it. It’s from one of the final loops, in which Martin gets stuck in the Coffin, and Elias goes in after him to keep Jon safe from the Buried mark. When they get back, Elias hands Martin off to Jon and immediately leaves in order to avoid admitting to Jon and himself that he is doing Really Bad, actually:

Elias drives himself home.

He unlocks his front door.

He stares at the mirror in the entryway for a long time, thinking.

He decides that cleaning up should be his first priority.

He realizes with a bit of manic humor that, although this is his second time in the Buried, it’s his first time washing the dirt off. But it doesn’t matter. He’s seen it so many times by now. He knows, more or less, what to expect from the process.

His entire body aches, but he refuses to fill his tub with that black sludge. Instead of sinking into a warm bath, he stands, letting the water rush over him, turned up as hot as he can stand it. He doesn’t look to see what splatters against the shower floor.

He scrubs at his skin, hard, but the washrag comes away black. There’s no perceivable difference to the level of dirt on his skin. He keeps scrubbing, to no avail.

Eventually, he starts to feel light-headed. Passing out in the shower sounds like a bad idea, so he shuts the water off. Pats himself dry with a towel he’s sure is now ruined. He goes to the kitchen, pours himself a glass of water. Between sips, he holds it to his forehead, enjoying the coolness. He wonders if he’s feverish, or if it’s just the leftover heat from the shower.

He drains the glass, then pours another and takes it with him to the guest bathroom. He starts to fill the tub with hot water, knowing now that his legs won’t support him for long enough to get the dirt fully cleaned off.

He steps in and, as expected, the water turns black almost immediately. He drains the tub, fills it again. And again.

In past, watching Jon do this so many times, it’s taken as many as 15 tries to get the water to finally clear.

Elias passes 15 and keeps going. Twenty. Thirty. He’s absolutely exhausted, and the water is still utterly black, opaque. A nightmare.

Elias swallows, wonders if this is a problem specific to this loop. He checks in on Martin and Jon, expecting to see them dealing with the same mess. But they’re already tucked into what looks like a very soft bed, curled around each other. Martin is clean. Safe. Loved.

Something hot and thick curls into Elias’ throat, and he swallows, trying to clear it. It doesn’t make sense. Why would the Buried release Martin, but not him?

This is all so pointless.

The thought takes him by surprise, the kind of depressive candor that he doesn’t normally allow himself.

Honestly, though, what does he think is going to happen? Okay, he saved Jon from getting marked by the Buried, at the cost of himself. The Web will just find another way to mark him. Same with the Slaughter. All he’s done is buy Jon a temporary reprieve.

The world will end. The loop will repeat. He can’t stop it.

He’s so tired.

A sob forces it way from his throat, much as he tries to suppress it. He tries to keep a lid on his composure. He can’t fall apart, he doesn’t want to fall apart.

But it’s like falling, like gravity. Now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

He tucks his head into his elbow, leaned against the side of the tub, and for the first time in longer than he can remember, Elias cries. There’s simply nothing else he can do.

Then something grabs him, beneath the black sludge he’s sat in. A hand that isn’t a hand, curling around his ankle.

Elias jerks away, out of the tub, filthy water sloshing onto the floor around him. His heart is hammering in his chest, painfully loud. He presses both hands to his mouth, biting back a scream, trying to smother the panicked hissing of his breaths.

After a few moments of nothing happening, nothing crawling out of the tub after him, Elias stands. His hands shake as he towels himself off, and he can’t bring himself to turn his back on the tub. He backs out of the room, makes his way back to the kitchen.

He pours himself another glass of water, makes himself a sandwich that he can barely force himself to eat. The adrenaline subsides, eventually, replaced by nausea and a hopeless kind of exhaustion. He drags himself to his bedroom, collapses on his bed. His blankets will all need to be replaced, and that’s such a trivial concern it almost makes him laugh.

He sleeps. The nightmares shouldn’t be able to touch him, but they do anyway.

#is elias in-character? i don't know #this is a man who told jon he looked like swiss cheese as far as i'm concerned anything goes with elias #asks #inklingofadream #elias time loop fic

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julies-butterflies · 3 years

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Honestly, your writing reminds me a lot of the buffyverse. Just the perfect balance of humor and sadness and romance and heart that just feels like a vivid window into the world you've created.

God the Body...the best forty minutes of television I may never watch again. I've rewatched Willow and Tara's kiss (because I'll adore them forever), but just...the weight of it. It took me a full month to work up the nerve to watch the episode, to be ready to cry that much.

What you said about not wanting people to suffer, because of your work...It's never once felt like that for me. And I've cried a LOT while reading your work. I'll try to explain it the best I can

Grief can be so isolating, and disorienting. Your world goes topsey-turvey, supports you took for granted go flying into the abyss and suddenly it's a minefield of those glass shards. And no one's grief is identical. No two circumstances are the same. It's not possible for anyone else to know exactly how you feel, because no two hearts break alike.

Sometimes, it's because people just don't understand. Sometime's it's because they no longer want to. But some days, that feeling of aloneness can be crushing.

Then one night, I stumbled upon Let These Shadows Fall Away Like Dust. That one hit me way harder than I was ever expecting. The question of how to grieve the living, the dilemma on when forgiveness is deserved...Alex's anger, his devestation, the rawness of it all....That's my broken glass. Those are concepts I've been struggling for over a year. I'm still picking up pieces every day.

I sobbed, because it was such a relief. To see the feelings that had been scrambled up in my mind just reflected there, on my screen. The reminder I had desperately needed, that I was not alone. That even though my circumstances were different, I was not the only one trying to unravel those messy emotions.

Then again, I also read your deathfic for fun, so maybe I'm not the best judge of this. I tend to like angst. I tend to get a lot of "WHY WOULD YOU MAKE IT THAT SAD" in group chats :D

Please don't feel any pressure to respond to me quickly or anything. I never mind the wait. I'm so sorry for the rough times. Wishing that you and your family gets whatever you need to help ease your storm. Sending love and support as well.

(sorry for all the metaphors. I'm super sleepy and apparently, I resort to purple prose when tired lol)

I know exactly what you mean about Emily. I understand why people don't like her, but I just love to see her written as such a grey character. It's just so much more powerful when the love is so clearly there.

I mean, that's what a tragedy is, really. Love cut short. Grieving a future that could have been everything, if fate had not been cruel. I don't know if you know musical theater, but I like to think about the Barber and His Wife, from Sweeney Todd: the whole tragedy of that show, is that they were happy all together, and then permanently broken. How their paths keep crossing, but they never connect to heal. Never lost, but never found.

And that's the tragedy of Luke and Emily: too stubborn and too late. You find that grey area, the messiness so well, and just bring it all out so wonderfully. You do the same with Bobby/Trevor, ESPECIALLY in the horror and the wild. God, that absolutely devestated me. I'm not a big fan of horror in general, and I haven't explored the genre that much but...if all horror is like yours then DAMN, I might just have to become a fan.

This got super long (lol) so I'll wrap it up now but! THE SIC FIC QUEENS TOGETHER???? When I tell you I lost it.... all too well Bobby and what you've lost reggie in the same story are killing me. I am hooked and incredibly hyped. Loved both updates so far, and cannot wait to see where the story goes!

Oh yeah and I forget: I have to ask, do you have a fan cast of the one, the only, the incredible Keith Richards? (and that goblin is so cute!!! I really want to pet the blood thirsty monster. So badly)

Love, your totally-not-undead-pen-pal, :D

-Vampire Anon

Know musicals? Vampire Anon my beloved, I am a musical theatre bitch. Take a look at my high school graduation cap! (Anastasia is my favorite musical... something about the themes of home, love, and family, the idea of always finding a place in the world even after enduring incredible hardship, that anything is survivable with faith and love in your heart... I'm also a Romanov history bitch, and Christy Altomare is such an incredible talent and human being.) Literally, talk to me about musicals anytime!

And yeah, I definitely see your metaphor... the tragedy of The Barber and his Wife was how close they came to each other throughout the whole show, existing within reach the entire time, after being separated for so long. But it wasn't the same; it never could be. Time and trauma had changed them both into something unrecognizeable, and when they came face-to-face, they could only hurt each other. At a certain point, the ghosts of your past are meant to stay ghosts. Sure, you might want them back more than anything --- but what would it mean? What would you truly be getting back?

Luke's "back", of course, and he comes home to visit his parents multiple times... but they're not the same people he left. They're older, greyer, changed by grief... while he's just the same. A snapshot forever frozen in time, a memory crystalized in amber. You can't hold memories in your hands. You can't pull them close and refuse to let them go. Eventually, they'll slip away... and to Mitch and Emily, a memory is all their son is, now. That's what's so heartrending about the situation we see in the show, especially --- so much love still exists between all of them, but it has no place to go.

Okay, sorry, it's 3am here and I'm rambling too, haha --- mentioning musical theatre was a mistake.

I'm so glad my stories have been able to connect with you, especially 'shadows' --- that one resonated with a lot of people, more than I ever realized it would. It's not the most personal story to me... but definitely one that needed to be told, and the emotion in it... hits home for a lot of people. It means so much to me knowing that story, and Alex's internal struggle, has made people feel less alone.

I think I'm going to have a hard time looking back on that one, though. We were staying at my aunt's house for the weekend where I wrote most of it; I read a few excerpts to her, and she said she liked it. She was always interested in my writing... I kind of wish I'd gotten the chance to share more of it with her.

Like you said. Grief's a funny thing. Disorienting, relentless, and crushing.

Please just remember, though --- whatever you're dealing with, you're not alone. You don't have to cut yourself on those broken pieces... one day, you'll wake up, and realize you feel whole again. It will never feel the same, and the pain will always be there... but healing around it is what makes us stronger. You don't owe anyone your forgiveness; it's okay to grieve when you've lost something, regardless of whether death has taken them from you. Grief doesn't have to be earned, it simply has to be felt.

You'll be stronger for it, in the end. I'm sorry you've been hurting so much.

Anyways! Oh gosh! On to lighter, happier topics! Please tell me...

What are your favorite fics? (Like, my fics, obviously, which fics of mine do you just go gaga over? Please praise me or else my ego will shrivel like a worm on hot pavement.) No, okay, I'm kidding --- what are your top fics for this fandom? Like, what are the ones that really resonate with you, that you could read over and over? The JATP fandom has so many greats, but I'm always drawn back to Some Killer Queen You Are by pearlcaddy (buffyverse meets jatp!! iconic!!), Lantern's Light by thefairhero (literally the SOFTEST reggie), the sky's not empty tonight by firefall (just... devastating and beautiful in a dozen ways), and literally anything by foundfamilyvevo.

How long have you been in the JATP fandom? Who are your favorite characters? What's your favorite JATP song?

And finally, most importantly... what are your favorite musicals?

(also... since u asked... behold keith richards and tremble)

#vampire anon my beloved #also... vampire anon... you're a writer #i can tell!! i can read it in your words #youre so eloquent and put things so beautifully #do you write fic?? have you posted any for jatp??

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irelise · 4 years

Text

Fic “Behind the Scenes” - Alex Rider

Trying to dip my toes back into writing, so I thought I’d ramble about some fics I’ve already written! This started off as ranting about my title choice and how they’re usually Final Fantasy XIV songs I butcher in order to forcibly fit the fic, but it expanded into musings about things that didn’t make the cut into the final fic, and potential sequels/things that happen down the line.

Just doing Alex Rider fics for now since that’s my current active fandom, but drop me an ask if there are any fics you’re especially interested in from any fandom!

Starting off with: Time (2368 words, gen, Alex & Yassen focused) aka my untagged Inception-flavoured AU where the plot twist was that it was a dream all along That said, this title was probably one of the easiest to come up with and was obviously from the main theme of Inception, Time! Which is fantastic like the whole movie aaaa i love Inception AUs and this fic is probably the one I’m most likely to expand into longfic if I dredge up the motivation from somewhere. It would be a mission style fic, possibly a heist, where Alex and Yassen are seemingly working together in order to steal some valuable intel from another group. Of course, it’s all a dream! Through copious dream symbolism and mind fuckery the real mission was set up by MI6 for Alex to extract intel from Yassen, who by this point is steadily losing his grip on dreams and reality after months, possibly years, spent under sedation.

Yassen has a few tricks up his sleeve, though. He’s aware that he’s (probably) dreaming and he can see the fractures in Alex’s resolve after such a long time of being used and manipulated by MI6. It would only take a little nudge to get Alex to defect -- or, at the very least, to escape.

So while Alex is busy trying to extract information from Yassen, Yassen is trying to do the opposite: inception.

The rest below cut for length and also because they’re nsfw since most of my writing was for the kink meme! Warning for general fucked-upness and unhealthy relationships

at the end, on a dusty road (8154 words, Yassen/Alex) aka the reputation sabotage fic, aka where’s part 3b?!

Title from Origa’s Polyushka Polye:

The wind scatters your brave songs Across the green field. Songs of the past, Leaving them alone with your glory, And right at the end, on a dusty road…

i just wanted something wistful and Russian about past soldiers and fading glory ok....... I came pretty close to titling the fic leaving them alone with your past glory but decided it didn’t make much sense out of context.

ANYWAY my first Yalex fic! Very much inspired by a hodgepodge of comments on Discord about how MI6 would react if they ever saw Yassen paying Alex visits in the middle of the night - “Could they be exchanging information?” “The whole night? Maybe the answer is something more obvious...”

ANYWAY the ending at the moment is pretty open - there’s two main ways I see it going:

1) Yassen comes back shortly afterwards, realises he had fucked up colossally, stays and helps Alex rebuild even though Alex (very justifiably) no longer trusts him. Very slow reconciliation and healing but ultimately happy ending.

2) aka the one where I broke Nanibun’s shipper heart over Discord: Alex and Yassen eventually reunite, but it isn’t until years later, when Alex is nearing middle age and Yassen has faded into obscurity. Alex managed to pick up the pieces of his life and even moved on properly from MI6, and now lives a fulfilling life. Married, 2.5 kids, white picket fence, the whole lot. So what if his marriage is more for partnership than for love? He’s content with the direction his life had taken and has strong ties to his community. He even managed to forgive Yassen, even though it took him a long time.

He and Yassen meet for the last time in a sunlit cafe in spring. Alex looks at Yassen and sees only a stranger with lines crinkling under his eyes.Yassen is getting old, he realizes. He thinks he should be happy that Yassen even had the chance to get old, but all he feels is relief that their paths had diverged. Alex is done with that life and he can never trust Yassen again. All that old passion had burned away to nothing, not even a flickering flame. Even though the initial parting had been painful, Alex had managed to find peace long ago, and he hopes Yassen will be able to do the same. But it's a distant, unemotional hope, the sort of hope you'd have for a distant acquaintance you haven't seen in years. The type of well wishes that are etiquette more than actual sentiment.

He's glad when their drinks are finished and Yassen melts away into the chattering springtime crowd, one final dangling chapter of his life closed at last.

...............or, 3) Alex throws himself into increasingly dangerous situations in an attempt to feel something and dies young.

(part 3b is coming someday i swear! it’s the alternate path where Yassen has second thoughts, tells Alex the truth, and doesn’t send the sex tape to MI6)

---

Lemniscate (3562 words, Julia Rothman/Yassen) Not a whole lot to say about this one, except after I finished I realised it was really similar to another fic I previously wrote which also involved a young man desperate to reinvent himself completely being taken advantage of by his superior............ i have a Type

Title - I was jamming out to Locus while writing this which is a song all about an inability to escape from cycles - When fighting back right out of this system/Means falling back right into this space ; When falling back is better than simply/Falling back into pieces again - but it was long and unwieldy so I thought about shortening it to Moebius but that was a bit overdone... In the end I settled with Lemniscate which is also an infinity symbol, Moebius-like shape. Mostly it’s a reference to how Yassen never quite breaks free of his “cycle” even though he’s with Scorpia now - he was Sharkovsky’s slave and bedwarmer and...now he plays basically the same role for Julia Rothman. (Just with a bit more murder and moral erosion!)

---

This probably needs a special content warning - major character death (gun suicide from the second Russian roulette scene), gore, necrophilia

closing the circle (3650 words, John Rider & Yassen) aka is it still a gen fic if there’s offscreen necrophilia?

This was originally written for a kink meme prompt for corpse mutilation + necrophilia but then the John and Yassen plot thread kind of took over and I never actually ended up writing the gory stuff oops since it was too out of place compared to the rest. So everything below can be considered not “canon” since the fic diverged so heavily from its original plan (which is why the section numbers skip around - I cut out Yassen’s bits). But if you’re curious, here’s the details for what I originally planned to happen to Yassen (well, his corpse) and the Sharkovsky family, copy-pasted straight from my notes and full of as much karma as I could stuff in:

Yassen’s death, Sharkovsky shoves his fingers in the bullet hole and spits on the body in disgust. Yassen regains consciousness halfway through this; he can feel what Sharkovsky is doing

Ivan comes running in, attracted by the sound of the gunshot. Sharkovsky tells him to do what he likes with the body as long as it’s disposed of in the end. Necrophilia scene? Afterwards Ivan disposes of the body by locking it in the cellar alone with the Dalmatian for a few days

Yassen starts getting his revenge. Ivan is the first to go when he comes to let the Dalmatian out – the Dalmatian savages him and tears out his throat before it’s finally shot. Yassen’s bones get buried along with the Dalmatian. Ivan’s body is kept in the cold storage room in the basement where they kept the old food taster’s body while they decide what to do with him.

Maya, Sharkovsky’s wife, is next. She passes away in the middle of the night. Sharkovsky wakes up next to a cooling corpse.

There are whispers that there is some sort of curse. One of the maids talk about finding blood on the carpet of Sharkovsky’s study. She’s the next to disappear. Some other workers stop turning up.

Finally it’s Sharkovsky’s turn. He dies of poison. The dacha burns down that same night.

A Scorpia agent was sent to tie up loose ends (Scorpia didn’t know Sharkovsky is already dead); Yassen kills him too. He has no loyalty to Scorpia and just wants to be left alone.

Hunter is sent to investigate. He and Yassen talk, in the end, Hunter invites Yassen to come with him, Yassen agrees. But when they leave the dacha and Hunter looks back, he finds that Yassen is gone.

And an excerpt:

Yassen is dead. He does not remember dying. There are some things the human mind tries to shield itself from, and the memory of a bullet traveling through bone and brain to erupt on the other side in a shower of gore is one of those things.

Yassen is dead. He had hoped death would mean oblivion. At his most naïve and optimistic, he had hoped death would mean reunion. Happiness. A return to simpler days.

He discovers, instead, that death is not so different from life, except he is even more powerless now than before.

There is a body on the floor of Sharkovsky’s study. Its hair had once been pale white-blond, but now it is matted with coagulating blood. That same blood spreads in a dark pool against the carpet, clotting the fibres together into ugly clumps, stiff and flaking. The fire in the hearth is still burning sullenly. Its light glistens against the grotesque strands of viscera splattered against the ground, the furniture, the wall. A round hole had been punched into the side of the corpse’s head, piercing bone and brain. That was how the man who had once been Yassen Gregorovich had killed himself. The fingers of the corpse remain loosely curled around the old-fashioned revolver that had been the instrument of death.

The only living person in the room rises slowly from his wheelchair. Sharkovsky’s skeletal face is twisted into an ugly grimace of anger. He totters over to the corpse, nudging it with the tip of one polished leather shoe. “Waste of time,” he says coldly. “Ruining a perfectly good carpet, and for what?”

In a sudden fit of temper, he lashes out with a kick. Once, it would have been strong enough to break several ribs (Yassen knows from intimate experience). Now, the corpse merely flops limply to one side. It incenses Sharkovsky further. He drops heavily to his knees, breathing harshly, and backhands the corpse across the face with one shaking hand.

#fandom: alex rider #My writing #meta

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faquarlofmycenae · 4 years

Text

Lo and behold, another original from the house of FOM! I haven’t even settled for a title, even though the work title initially was Death, three millenia in the making, but in hindsight it simply doesn’t fit and ideas shifted, etc etc etc, so here we are.

Either way, have this excerpt of the AU that’s floating around in my head like a Windows XP screensaver. There’s an old face, a new one and one already featured elsewhere but after a bit of a transformation... one might even call it an upgrade, depending on what you think of it.

It’s a lot that I wrote down in one day, and now that I got it out of my system I can move onto the next fic which I already plotted out a bit :^)

At last but not least, a big shout out to both Nunki @sine-luce-angor-minus for inspiring me with his phenomenal art and Posi @shadowy-dumbo-octopus for both brainstorming with me and sharing her great ideas!

Enjoy!

The impenetrable darkness had been there for so long that to call it an eternity was a vast understatement. It was a part of him by now and it replaced everything that had been there before. Be it the things that were very much his own; his voice, his substance, his feelings, his senses, even his personality and maybe as well as his most treasured memories, all of that was overshadowed by the void that ate at him ever since he was in here. He could scarcely remember how he got there, he knew someone had to do with it and if he ever managed to get a hold of that someone, provided he hadn’t been killed, his future would find its end right there and then.

And then — it was no more. The thick oppressive cocoon had surrounded him like dark honey and it took him a moment to realize it was all gone and the light blinded him. He cloaked himself in shadows and darkness as if he were a fetus that didn’t want to leave the comfort of the womb until he realized that his martyrdom on this wicked and cursed Earth was so close to being over. The light burned what remained of his essence to its core as if it were purest silver and he silently pleaded for the bonds that still tied him to this mortal realm to finally set him free.

The Other Place… it was still his home, where he belonged. Earth might have once felt like home to him but the connection that once firmly tied him here, a chain that was sweeter than a lover’s caress had been violently torn into pieces. The memory of it was foggy but it was there.

Through the darkness, something pushed through. That surprised him. The intruder didn’t cut or slash their way through the shadows shielding him, but calmly shoved them aside with gentle hands. It wore the face of a human and there was nothing but humanity in its face but still… something underneath the mask was familiar to him.

What have they done to you?

The voice was quiet, in a language he understood despite not remembering which one, and he hated it for being so soothing; he was no squabbling human child, he was a marid of immeasurable power, he could tear this peon apart like it was less than nothing.

But was it worth it? He was so exhausted and the accursed bonds wouldn’t break.

Soft fingers ran along his form in the dark, he didn’t have time to recoil from the touch but underneath them he felt the unmistakable energy of the Other Place.

O great spirit, in whose name shall your revenge be?

Ammet gazed into the eyes, into the fire within them, green and bright and otherworldly. One of the names he spoke was one that hasn't been heard in many years, forgotten to the world, and he had been the only being privy to know it besides its owner, an immense privilege.

Senusret, and Ammet.

It didn't matter to say it out loud, the human face with the energy of his home was not real, something like this couldn't exist and this was the end. He was going home

It had been seconds but it felt like so much more than that when the invisible chains broke. He didn’t let out a cry of joy, he never did, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t glad to leave this spinning ball of mud — may it burn down and all of humanity as well as the spirits remaining there with it.

…

The very second he was back, he began to regain his strength and with strength came clarity of mind. The darkness had transformed his consciousness into something twisted, strange and revolting but the energies of the Other Place were softly pushing away the fog had clouded everything the longer he stayed here. Time ran differently here than it did on Earth but something that had roughly been five terrestrial years, maybe even more, passed by and with each moment he grew stronger and stronger, but some of the wounds left behind on his essence but especially on his pride simply wouldn't close but instead festered and the pain they caused could only be lessened by retribution.

Oh, he wouldn't simply kill the djinni. He'd draw out his suffering to something no spirit or human had ever experienced — he'd make Bartimaeus of Uruk wish that he had simply been plunged into the Dismal Flame instead of what was waiting for him now. But… How much time has passed exactly while in the amphora? He still didn't know.

…

He felt a scratch on his essence — no, a gentle pull. The same way he'd seen these pathetic human children pull on their equally pathetic progenitors. If he had a form, he would've kicked at the sensation, or even better, sent a lightning bolt at the offender.

Another pull, this time much more insistent. Leave me be, vile wretch, unless you want a marid's wrath upon you, he wanted to scream but the next pull was so much more violent than the previous one that it knocked the metaphorical breath out of him.

Then he was pulled through the elemental walls, as if someone was pulling him through a narrow pipe and —

He was surrounded by light once again. Ammet hissed and brought down the room temperature in an instant. Ice crystals materialized within seconds but the light didn't subside. Someone let out a curse, a particularly vicious one — in a language that vaguely sounded like Greek, perhaps even a Barbarian language.

The form he had picked was a combination of two of his favourite guises — a creature made out of the human skeletons dyed in red, each corpse with its own autonomy (and in some cases rotting flesh hanging from their bones) and a head shaped like the skull of a crocodile, with more teeth than one could count and huge skeletal wings; it had been quite the hit in Ombos when Set had been around. The other was one he used to slip into without thinking about it; a shadow, a perfect replica made of darkness belonging to someone he had once loved.

The black beast, the heart-eater, was cloaked in absolute blackness with shadows hanging from it and while the eye sockets were empty, he could perfectly see his surroundings. First of all, the pentacle in which he stood was of an infuriating perfection that he wanted nothing more than to smash himself against its wards in the futile effort to destroy it. Secondly, the room… had a strange aura. It was a room, alright, these had existed ever since the fleshlings had learned how to construct buildings (not that they did the building, of course), but something in here or maybe it was the way Earth worked now that was so radically different from him as a spirit that he recoiled.

The walls were made of stark grey stone, on the ceiling a long vertical imp-light flickered in pale yellow and besides pots of incense and herbs, there were no actual objects in the room nor windows. They most likely were underground.

Oh, and there was the magician standing in a pentacle opposite of him.

It was a slender woman, not very tall of height but not exactly short either. Dark curls fell upon her shoulders and framed a round face that by human standards was most likely considered very beautiful, shallow and vapid as they were. The lips were full and gave the impression that she was perpetually pouting, her skin light brown with a glow that indicated she was out in the sun quite often. There was youth in her face, but the faint wrinkles on her forehead told a different story. One of her eyes was of a cold dark brown, the other not organic at all; an orb made of shining gold with painted iris and pupils for the sake of realism. The pupil was a deep black, the iris a vibrant blue similar to lapis lazuli but even brighter. The eye pulsated with magic on the higher planes as the piercing gaze burned through his form and he knew, for a fact, that this feeble creature, so insignificant compared to him, could see his true form — for what he really was.

„Ammet; Bezalel; Rahab.“ She spoke Greek, alright, even if it was a curious dialect. He still understood her every word; a side effect of the summons, as it was most useful for the slave to understand the master‘s commands. It sounded different than the Greek he had been used to previously but still not far enough to have evolved over so many years. Years in which his name had been unearthed.

Apophis curse this world; the face had not been a product of his imagination or confused state. Him saying names had been real —

He let out a furious roar, one that made the implight tremble, the room shake by a margin — but not the magician, oh no. She didn't even twitch but merely sneered in anger at the obvious disrespect, raised a hand, opened her mouth to speak a punishment — and caught herself. She took a deep breath, halted her respiration for one, two, three seconds and then exhaled once again.

„A powerful demon you might be but now you are my slave. Bow your head and do my bidding as I command, elsewhile I will rattle your essence with a pestilence that even you will carry the pain for the remainder of your days here and in the Nowhere.”

Ammet gritted his teeth but nevertheless bowed his head. He was regaining his composure once again but the fire of fury raged within him. But there was a time and place for this… not now. Not while in the damned pentacle.

“Your word is my command, mistress.”

He spoke, soft and gentle. That coupled with a gentle and discreet guise would occasionally — and if the magician was an amateur and/or took a greater bite than they could chew — do the trick and lure the human into a false sense of security. But Ammet was in the mood for anything but a gentle guise and this individual’s strength, as feeble as she might seem, judging by her aura hadn't faded in the least so as far as magicians went, she probably packed quite the punch. In addition to that, she had summoned him all on her own, which already was a tremendous task for the likes of her kind, so he probably was not going to be lucky with her. That strength, unapparent to the untrained eye but blatant to anyone who knew of real power, reminded him of someone he had once loved.

The magician jutted her chin upwards, a smug expression on her face.

“You are a smart slave then, smarter than many who have been in my service. Hear me out: needless to say as I included it in your bindings, you are prohibited from harming not only me but all those you interact with, be it by magical or physical attack. You shall answer every question that is asked of you, without hesitation and in earnest — as alien as honesty is to the likes of vile demons like yourself.” She wrinkled her nose before she spoke next. “Afterwards, you shall be dismissed; that is, if you decide to cooperate. Refuse to, and your fate shall be worse than what you went through in that jar of wine.”

The golden eye glinted and with a sharp snap of her fingers, something materialized in the air in front of the magician. She got a hold of it and held it out to him. It was a small box of black wood, polished to a gleam. A small net of silvery veins ran over it and a similar magical energy resided within it as the golden eye.

“The people who made this call it Pandora's Box. It doesn't come close to the real deal, obviously, but it has its surprises.” The magician smiled. “You will get cozy with them, should you choose to act unwisely.”

Ammet considered the box. It didn't seem like a lot but the thought of being imprisoned once again gave him the most unpleasant of sensations.

He fluttered his wings and continued his swaying, but didn't respond.

The magician nodded. “Now that we have that out of our way: fulfill your charge.” She clapped her hands and Ammet dissolved into shards of shadows and bone. A sensation pulled him elsewhere; one moment he was in the strange vault many meters beneath the ground — and the other he was gone.

The light that burned Ammet now — a bothersome habit, as he had apparently developed a sensibility for light during his captivity — came of no cold implight but was rather the light of the setting sun. It shone through a tall window, warming him even through the glass.

The revolting aura from the vault remained but wasn’t as amplified which meant that the effect was relatively widespread.

He didn't stand in a pentacle but on white tiles, making his dark form appear even blacker as he remained there. The walls were tiled wood, rich mahogany, and in the center of the room stood a long dinner table with a total of fourteen chairs around it. It had a costly air about it, and confirmed to Ammet that even though time might pass, humans were still exactly the same; utterly obsessed with material goods and hedonistic to the maximum.

He scoffed.

“Enjoying the view?”

It wasn't the fact that someone had entered the room behind him that made him spin around at neckbreak speed; it was because whoever had spoken was the owner to the voice belonging to the face.

The language itself was nothing close to any language Ammet consciously understood, its sounds being mumbled and so ugly compared to the refined beauty of Egyptian or even the cruder Arabic, and yet he knew exactly what she said. It also meant that he was either far from home or actually a lot of time had passed for language to evolve into… whatever this could be considered, regardless of the magician’s Greek.

Just like the golden-eyed magician, this one was also a woman — although judging by the stench of incense clinging on her skin if not directly her bizarre clothes (form-fitting lower garments that covered her ankles and a way too short tunic on her upper body) she most likely was either one as well or at least associated with them frequently — but quite different from her too which, well, was better than them looking alike, a nasty tendency humans had.

Taller and pale of skin, she had auburn hair mixed in with grey that was tied together with a few loose strands. Her face was angular, her nose straight and pointy which made her look like a songbird. Freckles grew on her face like pimples on a youth’s visage, crow’s feet and lines under her eyes indicated at least forty years of age. The fire of the Other Place wasn’t to be found in the eyes, instead they were of a dull light brown with green specks — green specks that did not have anything within them that reminded him of home. Her aura did burn a little brighter than that of your ordinary human though, but ultimately that didn’t need to mean anything.

“What you see out there,” she said and pointed outside of the window, “is a country named Spain; its most Southern part to be precise, we call it Andalusia.”

Ammet didn't respond nor did he look outside. Neither of those names meant anything to him.

“I hope it's a more pleasant view than the cellar in which you were summoned. I hate to say it under the circumstances which, let's face it, are always unpleasant but: welcome back to Earth, Lord Ammet.”

Soft food steps walked away and for a moment, Ammet considered sending a black bolt of lightning her way and into her back as she had it turned on him. Then he remembered the box.

“I apologize for any harshness my colleague showed you; she is still of the old school and old habits die hard.” She sighed. “Maybe even never. But we don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, do we?” Her voice was clear and strong and if it wasn’t just a product of his imagination, Ammet could swear that there was a current within her tone that wasn’t human at all.

She turned around to face Ammet and to the marid‘s surprise, the expression on her face was a welcoming smile. He immediately distrusted her.

“Please, sit down. I know it doesn't lessen the pain of being bound but for the sake of courtesy, I rarely like to have my guests standing around.”

Ammet didn't move, he merely looked at her.

“I was told to answer questions.”

The woman didn't look up as she poured herself a glass of white wine (the smell of the alcohol was sweet and pungent, so unlike red wine) and moved to sit at the head of the table.

“And that you will, and as soon as that is done, you are free to return to the Other Place.” She looked at him over the rim of her glass and took a sip. “To be a good host and as a show of good faith towards you, Lord Ammet, I will tell you something of this world, as well as about my own person.” She smiled as if she remembered something. “Well, not everything, obviously, but everything I deem deserving for you to. But first of all, let me apologize for the predicament I put you under — prying your name from you while you were in a confused state is a great betrayal to do upon a spirit, yet while I regret it, there was no other way around it.”

Ammet tilted his head slightly at those words. Well, here was someone who knew her way with words.

“So it was you who freed me. For many years I thought you weren't real.”

She smiled.

“Yes, but like I said… It is a rather double-edged sword. You had been imprisoned in a wine amphora for, ah, quite some time. Five years ago an archeological expedition looking to loot long-sunken treasures in the hopes of discovering powerful magical artifacts brought many things, among them the vessel that contained you, to the surface. I happened to be around and,”, her lips curved into a smile, “felt your aura, faint as it was, even from afar. Freeing you was the right thing to do, obviously, but I wanted to know the identity of the one I had saved - cue me asking. A bit melodramatic, yes, but it did the trick, did it not?”

She put down her glass and observed him.

“The search for you wasn't as easy as I thought it would be, even though I had your name. According to Herodotus, the last sighting of you was in Ombos 1000 BCE, give or take.”

“BCE?”

“... Ah. Yes.”

The number the woman said then would have knocked any and all breath out of Ammet's lungs if he had them. No, no no, it cannot be!

“I know, even for a spirit this is a lot to take him.”

The tone being calming did nothing for him. Ammet felt the edges of his form tremble and with a horrid piercing cry he released a great force of energy and made the planes shudder. Oh, how he wished to exact his wrath upon — well, everything under this accursed sun. The golden-eyed magician was lucky to have made the binding clause so tight, otherwise Ammet would have found or simply disregarded the finer lines and wreaked untold havok on whatever and whoever were to cross his path — man, spirit, it didn't matter to him. He was of such power that they could impossibly stand in his way.

When he calmed down, silence beat down upon them. The woman looked a bit disheveled but had mostly maintained her composure, as if she had assumed something like this to happen. She coughed and finished the remains in her glass in one go, then steeped her fingers.

“Time is nothing to the likes of us—”

“Us?” Ammet's voice was a roar and he moved at lightning speed to stand over the woman. His eyes were raging fires now, spewing contempt and hatred with such fury and even like this, it was nothing compared to the anger burning within him.

“What sort of wicked and foolish creature are you? How dare you compare yourself to an entity like me?”

If she was unnerved, she didn't bother with showing it.

“My name is Nimuë, and there are no creatures like me.”

Ammet hissed like an aggressive cobra and shook his head. His claws dug deep into the table, something not missed by Nimuë who raised an eyebrow.

“Don't make me laugh. You are human, but so unlike all of them.” Even as he said it, he knew at least the first part to be a lie.

She straightened her shoulders and stood from the chair with a fluid motion.

“Human a part of me is, yes, and unlike all of them I am too — including Senusret.”

Ammet was quicker than thought; he reached out to rip her in two, binding clauses be damned, but somehow she was even quicker. There was a crash and the marid spun around to the window where a human-shaped hole had appeared when it hadn't been there before and a flash of auburn winked in the waning sunlight. Ammet opened shadowy wings and followed her, making sure to break through the window with enough gusto.

The stench of incense and her alien aura led him down the hill on which the large house was seated upon. Among olive trees and scrubs he looked for her, but no more flashes of auburn or even a single sound.

“I'll tear your human flesh from your bones and throw what remains of you into the sea, as even the sacred beasts would heave at your vile nature.” He screamed and listened in closely to the ensuing silence. But then! A cracking, maybe of branches underneath a foot, he whirled around, ready to strike and tear her apart into her atoms! — and was struck square in the chest with not just one but two surprisingly potent purple lightning bolts.

His detonation missed its target by several meters as his aim was thrown off and he was flung backwards and into an olive tree which broke and splintered under his weight.

As he laid on his back like a scarab turned upside down, the woman named Nimuë came into his view. She was floating downwards to the ground, auburn but greying hair not bound anymore and flowing freely, but Ammet didn't care about the fact that she could fly — it was the eyes, which positively radiated energy from the Other Place. Green fires burned brightly and cast her human features into something incomprehensible and otherworldly.

“I don't think so.” Her feet touched the ground and she crossed her arms. The green fires died down to a glow and now he saw that her expression was less one of anger but rather extreme crossness, like an usually benevolent priestess whose acolytes had vexed her one time too many.

“So, tell me: could he do that? I know the answer, and now let me continue. Be lucky you haven't harmed me, or you'd be back in Circe's gentle care — you will find that she has no love whatsoever for spirits.”

The voice remained the same but if there had just been a gentle hint of the Other Place in it before, now it was the defining trait of it.

Ammet got back on his feet and as he did so shifted back into the shadowy silhouette.

Instantly, Nimuë's demeanor changed. Her eyes widened and her hands twitched and as if she wanted to reach out.

“That form.” She whispered.

“Only the clause is preventing me from causing you such pain that your screams would be heard on even the most desolate corners of this spinning ball of mud.” Ammet spat. The lightning had caused him hurt momentarily but nothing he couldn't shrug off after mere seconds. It had been of the force of something an afrit could've hurled at him, but on no plane, not the first seven nor anything above was Nimuë anything but human.

“Good.” She stated coldly and leaned against an olive tree. “Can we continue? I'd prefer it down here, in case you decide to lose your marbles again. As much as you are a guest to me I am a guest in that house.”

Ammet pressed his shadowy lips together tightly like he had seen it done before so many times but nodded. Nimuë let out a breath and ran a hand through her hair, tying it up once again.

“Either way, Ombos… Set's city back then. But it wasn't the name” She made a meaningful gesture with her hand. “You told me. Those who held it were prominent rulers of Egypt, alright, but not a single magician. So, evidently, it had to be someone either off the records or they were on the records but not as that. To this day, I don't know who it is but considering your reaction… well, you catch my drift.”

She grinned. Ammet's guise had no facial expressions but he most certainly wouldn't have smiled.

“You were considered dead for the last three millenia, so imagine my surprise when that is anything but the case. For a spirit to show up alive after the only reports I found of him were in some old tomes that haven't been touched in two centuries, that was quite something. And of course, no one just happens to stumble into an amphora, especially when that one is at the bottom of the ocean. So someone must've not just done you dirty but done so while fully intending to make it as horrible as possible. I figured you would both need rest as well as desire for retribution — but the former was more important than the latter.” She sneered. “You should be glad you couldn't see the sorry state of your essence when I destroyed the jar. And the way the world has changed in the last millennium and a half… well, if my essence crawls at the thought of it, and I have witnessed all of its development, then I don't want to know how it must've been for you.”

Ammet stared at her.

“To answer your question concerning me, I trust you as a spirit to keep this a secret, especially because I might be the greatest ally whose paths you crossed on Earth. But yes, I am of the Other Place, despite what appearances might say otherwise.”

The maid's essence shivered in disgust as he considered what she said. “But you are not visible as a spirit.”

Nimuë smiled, and even though she couldn't change her form it had a sharpness to it only spirits could manage.

“Yes, and as revolting it might be to you, I have my fair share of advantages in turn.”

“Such as?”

Nimuë curled her upper lip in a self-sufficient smile. She was too human to be a spirit, there was no doubt about it.

“No pain whatsoever, Lord Ammet.”

No pain? But…

“What about the human?”

Nimuë grinned. “Oh, she's here — but at the moment I hold the reins. It felt appropriate to speak from spirit to spirit so she took a backseat.”

The marid regarded the creature. Oh, there was not a doubt that she had lost her mind. Whoever willingly shared a body with a human… what a perverse thought. And yet, unbidden memories came to him, of a time when he had wished he could just do that… when he had done it, only momentarily though and it was never enough...

“You disgust me.”

The spirit in a human's body scoffed. “What a way to show gratitude. I won't let you be locked up by Circe, as she no doubt showed you her wicked little prison, but I'm nevertheless disappointed. And here I thought that a spirit who held such a curious and invaluable possession in obvious affection could see the future just as I do!” She sniffed. “Yes, I do share a body with a human being. It is a quite benevolent and mutually agreeable partnership and I am not bound by cruel words, bonds and contracts.”

Ammet wanted to respond to that but found out he couldn't. Nimuë seemed to notice too and took that unashamedly as a victory.

“Do you wish to know anything else about me? Or is enough of my oh so disgusting nature revealed to you?”

The marid gave her a sharp look but still was silent.

“Alright. Because I have a proposition for you. A cooperation, the summons are a necessary part of it at first, sadly, but we'll find a way around that.”

Ammet let out a dry laugh. “I'd like to see you try merging me with a human. I would rather eat myself.”

Nimuë cackled, it was an unpleasant sound coming from a spirit who thought themself more human than anything else. “Oh, I doubt you'd commit to that part. I consider myself as something of a visionary, thanks to having made use of some groundbreaking discoveries that were right in front of humanity's nose but as always, they either don't have the ability to see it or are too wrapped up in their hedonism and selfishness to think further than themselves.” The green fires lit up for a brief moment, mischief sparking within them. “Let me tell you a bit about that and then onto my questions — or rather, my question. Then regardless of your answer you are free to return to Circe's gentle hands for her to dismiss you for you to return home. She won't like it but she will have to live with it. She is the sort of magician who hates all spirits after having been wronged by a single one of them despite being tied to his charge.”

Nimuë shook her head.

“What about the box? Was that just an empty threat?”

Instead of an answer, Nimuë simply smiled. Then she pushed herself off the tree and approached Ammet. In front of him, she stretched out her hand for him to shake.

“A good magician never reveals his tricks. So, what do you say? Is there an angle for a deal here?”

#fomwrites #bartimaeus #bartimaeus sequence

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elisajdb · 4 years

Text

Fanfic Authors Tag Game

Tagged by @meztliel

AO3 name: ElisaJ

Fandoms: Dragon Ball. Sailor Moon. Inuyasha. Though Dragonball is the only one I’ve written for.

Number of fics: 20

1. Fic I spent the most time on: Life With You. Working on finishing Part 30. I know. It’s been forever.

2. Fic I spent the least time on: A Yakuza Dragon ball story.

3. Longest fic: Life With You.

4. Shortest fic: The Visitor. Short story I wrote based on fanart of Bardock visiting Goku’s family briefly. He hugs Goku, greets Gohan and Goten and compliments ChiChi. He’s only on Earth long enough to see Goku turned out fine.

5. Most hits: Life With You

6. Most kudos: Life With You

7. Most comment threads: Life With You

8. Favourite fic I wrote: Changes which was part of Son Family Week in 2018. Sweet short story of Goten adjusting to life with his Dad again and learns how he and his Dad have a lot more in common than Goten realizes.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: Probably the Saiyan ChiChi/Evil Goku story I just wrote for GoChi week. It would fun to expand on how Goku and ChiChi met, how Gyumao left Planet Vegeta and continue on with how the one shot end.

10. Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on: An excerpt from Life With You: Part 30:

“What?” ChiChi wasn’t sure she heard right. “You mean that’s why you sent Gohan away? You wanna spend time with me?”

Goku felt warmth spread on his cheeks. He rather show it than say it but if this was the only way to calm ChiChi and get her to accept his decision…. “I spent nearly a year with Gohan in that room. It was great. I spent time with Gohan when I came back from Yardrat but Piccolo was here and it wasn’t the same. It was great being with Gohan but when I was in that room, I thought about you and how we ain’t done anything in a long time.”

“Yeah,” ChiChi agreed dully. “I think it was before you died we really spent time alone. Dad would watch Gohan for a few days while we celebrated our anniversary. There were a few date nights we’ve had but since you died,” ChiChi shrugged, “nothing.” It bothered ChiChi she and Goku hadn’t spent time alone together like they used to. They satisfied their physical needs when the urge rose. Some nights they spent it talking but the way Goku carried on these last years, ChiChi didn’t think Goku felt the same. “I thought you were happier since you died. Before Raditz, you were getting bored. You were craving another fight and you got it fighting your brother, then Vegeta, Freeza, the Artificial Humans and now Cell.”

ChiChi wiped away a tear threatening to fall. “For three years, it was you, Gohan and Piccolo and our days were spent with you three talking about fighting, talking about how much stronger you’ve gotten. It was always about fighting. It was no longer about what Gohan learned from his books, about you earning money from Mr. Olitz’s farm, what you and Aki were doing, dinner with Dad, our family going on trips together or expanding our family. It was you, Gohan and Piccolo all day while I spent my days alone. Even my Dad hasn’t come around as much anymore because of my decision to stay with you and Piccolo living with us. We made up after you returned but it never meant I was completely happy with our arrangement but it seemed like you were and I was just a distraction so you didn’t get bored in the early years of our marriage.”

It was as if Raditz punched him in his stomach again and he lied on the beach powerless to move. ChiChi’s revelation of her inner pain these three years caught him off guard. When he returned from Yardrat, they talked a lot. It took a while but Goku thought things were good between them. When the training started, Goku did leave Gohan and Piccolo for an hour or two and spent it with ChiChi. Two years left him missing his wife intimately terribly but over time the visits became lesser to none at all. The intimacy continued but at night when everyone slept. He never asked what ChiChi did while he trained all day. ChiChi took care of the house and prepared food but Goku knew it didn’t take ChiChi all day to do that.

He assumed Gyu-Mao visited. Goku knew things were strained between himself and his father-in-law but Goku assumed Gyu-Mao visited while he trained with Gohan and Piccolo. He never suspected Gyu-Mao didn’t because he didn’t accept ChiChi’s decision to stay with him and allow Piccolo to live with them but he should’ve. Gohan’s his grandson and Gyu-Mao must’ve been shocked and angered, too, Piccolo was living with them after all he did to their family. They visited Gyu-Mao’s village for festivals, saw him on holidays and birthdays but mostly Goku and his family stayed on Mount Paouz. It wasn’t until their talk after Gohan’s party Goku felt the ice melt between him and Gyu-Mao. After their fight, Goku accepted things were different between them but Goku never realized ChiChi’s relationship with her father was in an almost similar place since his return.

With Gyu-Mao staying away and ChiChi being alone most of the day, other things became clearer to Goku. No wonder ChiChi insisted he and Gohan took one day a week off from training. No wonder she insisted Goku and Gohan eat breakfast, lunch and dinner with her. No wonder she insisted Goku get his license again and take her on shopping trips. She was lonely, estranged from her father and finding ways to cope while he never noticed. How could he? Goku asked himself. Everyday, ChiChi said goodbye and welcomed him and Gohan with a smile. Some days ChiChi got angry but most ChiChi quietly did her housework. He assumed things were fine and they weren’t. She buried her feelings like he did.

In their ten years of marriage, ChiChi became the only person to see Goku as himself. Unlike his friends, she knew when he was hiding things behind his smile. She knew when things really bothered him. Goku felt he failed as a husband not noticing these things in his wife.

“I’m sorry, ChiChi,” Goku apologized. “I’m sorry you thought those bad things because of me. It’s not true. I’m just selfish and I haven’t been a good husband to you. I didn’t notice things were bad between you and your Pops because of me. It’s my fault. It’s always my fault.” Once again, Goku thought of Bulma’s words of bad things following him wherever he went.

Maybe Bulma is right. If it wasn’t for me, Gohan wouldn’t have been kidnapped. He wouldn’t have been left alone for six months. ChiChi wouldn’t have been alone for a year. ChiChi and her Pops had a good relationship all her life and I ruined that. I’m always hurting the ones I care for the most.

“Your fault?” ChiChi questioned. She noticed the frown and pain in his eyes. Something was bothering him. “What are you talking about? What’s your fault?”

“ChiChi,” Goku enclosed his hands around hers. Gone was his smile. His face was hardened as if he was preparing for a grueling fight and his gaze was so tense ChiChi felt frozen in place. “After the Cell Games, it’ll be us and Gohan. Maybe another child.” ChiChi smiled at that. “I haven’t been a good husband to you. Let me try now. Let’s fix this before Gohan comes home.”

“You….. you wanna work on us and our issues?” Another tear fell from her eyes but ChiChi sounded hopeful. “We’ve had issues for years, Goku. Can we really fix them in five days?”

“You know me,” Goku smiled brightly at ChiChi. “I love a challenge and you know there’s no stopping me when I want something.” ChiChi’s laugh lifted his spirits. He knew he was being arrogant but he knew he was right. “We can do this, ChiChi, if we want to and I want to.”

I think the other remaining writers have been tagged I won’t add them. :)

#writer tag meme #writing #fanfiction

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euphemeria · 5 years

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Silence (YR 1) - WRN: anxiety triggers

I wrote a thing for clumsychappy’s work. It’s at 42k right now, but I’m lacking motivation to finish it so I’m just gonna excerpt some of the parts that are decent until I can find the resolve and time to finish it.

I did so much research into this fic that it’s pretty sad that it’s so shit. I wish I was a better writer. These things all sound better in your head than on paper or word documents.

Between accompanying Orihime and bothering Rukia, Ichigo finds his time preoccupied compared to his first week of summer vacation. Ichigo refuses to admit brooding those first few days after Mizuiro and Keigo left, but will honestly admit bored the last few days after aimlessly wandering Tokyo and listlessly staring at his apartment ceiling. Although his promenading in Tokyo wasn't completely wasted since he discovers a bar that he actually doesn't mind too much.

The Black Cat is situated at the end of a cloister of stores and restaurants, almost blending in with the shops surrounding it if Ichigo didn't notice the pulse of music coming from it one night. Inside, the bar's dim, color-alternating lighting sets the atmosphere, exuding class and secrecy. Even from just one look, no touching, Ichigo can tell the bar is made from real mahogany wood, glinting dangerously underneath the low lighting. But for looking so sophisticated, the price is pretty reasonable and it attracts a variety of people with the thrumming music felt from below the establishment, where the later night activities tend to occur.

Yoruichi, the manager, knows Ichigo by name, not because he frequents the place that often but because he literally and accidentally stepped on the black cat his first night there. Yowling, the feline had darted up the hidden stairs behind the bar, notifying Yoruichi of the incident when she caught sight of the cat's tail. He almost got thrown out for that, but after tiring of his apologies she plied him with drinks to shut him up. After that--which Ichigo can't recall for the life of him--she always teases him like they have been good friends for years.

Ichigo also hasn't seen that black cat no matter how many times he's gone back.

He can't get it out of his mind either since Rukia likes to remind him of his cat murderer status, every time. Yoruichi assures him that it’s doing fine too, "It'll show up when it wants to."

Which is how he finds himself heading out to the Black Cat every night just to prove his point to Rukia, oftentimes dragging her along to bear witness to his innocence. Rukia puts up a fight every time, kicking and digging her heels in, but surrenders once they're around the corner. Ichigo likes to think it's because she gets to pet and feed the other stray cats that hang around the establishment.

"You play with the cats and I'll be inside." Ichigo tells her every time they do this. Rukia simply sticks her tongue out at him, then resumes her deadly rub down on the furry victim of the night.

'Those poor cats.' Ichigo can't help thinking as he slips back through the backdoor of the Black Cat, heading towards the stairs that lead down to the lower floor, dubbed 'Grounds' by the regulars, whom Ichigo has slowly become acquainted with:

There's Matsumoto Rangiku, a third year in Sociology, who's more like a resident than a customer. From what he hears, Yoruichi always finds her in the morning passed out in random places of the Black Cat. There's even a small room built for her in the bar now, for her to properly pass out in. Ichigo suspects the bedding is still brand new.

Hitsugaya Toshiro, a third year in Mathematics. He doesn't speak often and tends to occupy the least crowded space in the Grounds.

Madarame Ikkaku, a second year in Engineering, that likes to butt heads with Ichigo constantly. One time they nearly drank down Yoruichi's entire bar, almost forcing her to close for the night. When they kept going at it though, she billed their open tab plus collateral damage for all their drunken shenanigans to their respective address. Upon receiving it, they both understood it was a threat. Ichigo's tried behaving ever since, but sometimes Ikkaku makes it too easy to be destructive.

Ayasegawa Yumichika, a second year in Oriental History with eccentric tastes and a narcissistic personality. When Ichigo first met Yumichika, the vain male had commented on Ichigo's drool-worthy form and firmness that Ichigo's been unable to erase from his memories. So, he avoids being alone with the upperclassmen. Based on their interactions though, Ichigo assumes Ikkaku and Yumichika have a history together. They bicker like an old married couple.

And then there's Hirako Shinji and his gang of friends that Ikkaku cautions against associating with, but doesn't explain why. Regardless, Ichigo gives them a wide berth. Although, when he catches Hirako talking to a frozen, wide-eyed Rukia in her usual spot of the alleyway, Ichigo throws a punch at the blonde without thinking. Perceptive, Hirako dodges it easily with a mocking laugh and biting words, "Want to try that again, boy?"

Provoked, Ichigo prepares to throw another punch but stops when Rukia's own fist flies past him, landing squarely on the side Hirako’s face. Stunned, Ichigo and Shinji remain fixed in their position, Ichigo with his fist still in mid-air and Hirako on the concrete with his hand accessing the damage. From this angle, Ichigo can't see what is happening, if anything is happening at all, but something must be if Rukia's clenching hands at her sides and Shinji's resigned expression are any indication.

"Did that idiot do something stupid again?" A voice from behind Ichigo asks.

Looking over his shoulders, Ichigo sees the short, pigtail pipsqueak that's always hanging around Hirako. Ichigo remembers Hirako calling out her name on several occasions, Hiyori or Hiyoko*?

"I deserved it this time." Hirako divulges, allowing Hiyori to help him up.

"You deserve it every time." Hiyori corrects with a scowl, poking the bruise that's already starting to form on Hirako’s face.

"Oooowwww oww! Not the face!" Hirako pleads, his screams cut off when the resounding shut of the back door to the Black Cat closes.

Left alone now, Ichigo approaches Rukia, coming around her so she can see him, not wanting to alarm her. They stand like that for what seems like the end of the hour, Ichigo waiting and Rukia agitated. With a deep, long exhale though, Rukia's tension slowly begins to ebb. Only when Rukia finally untucks her chin, meeting Ichigo's eyes, does Ichigo ask, "You alright?"

Rukia closes her eyes briefly, as if thinking of the answer. It's slow to come, but the unconscious subtle bob of her head answers Ichigo's concerns for her and they leave it at that. Ichigo should've known better than to accept that as her answer though.

Especially when the subsequent nights at the Black Cat start changing Ichigo and Rukia's routine.

Rukia no longer plays with the cats in the alleyway instead mingles with the crowds in the Grounds. Although she doesn't mingle so much as stand next to Toshiro or is hauled to the dance floor by a drunk Rangiku, only to be promptly abandoned after the busty woman finds her next prey. Sometimes Ichigo will catch her talking to Shinji or his friends, her lips appearing to move as if she were actually conversating, but Ichigo blames it on the flashing lights or alcohol in his system. There is no way Rukia is actually speaking to someone, let alone someone she just punched by way of introduction.

It takes Urahara, the owner of the bar who appears and disappears randomly, pulling Ichigo aside before he starts realizing something is off.

"Kurosaki-kun! You're practically here every night now, you know?" Urahara emerges from a random sliding door next to the wall Ichigo is leaning on, nearly scaring the younger man.

"What the hell, Urahara!" Ichigo yells, backing away from the enigmatic bar-owner. Ichigo could've sworn that wall he was previously leaning against was as smooth as his last drink.

"I can't but notice that Kuchiki-san is spending more time down here than outside with the cats."

"I guess. Maybe she wanted a change in scenery?" Ichigo scoffs, searching the said woman out in the swarm of bodies and bright lights. Rangiku pulled her into the middle of the floor earlier with promises of showing her the proper moves of the hips.

Ichigo finds it difficult to immerse himself into the sway of the music, company of his friends, and drinking games when he knows Rukia is nearby. So, the past few days have been spent sulking like Toshiro while keeping his eyes trained on Rukia. Eyes that Rukia sense even in the intensity of the Grounds or feel dancing on her skin amid a throng of people. Rukia's berated him about it several times, comparing him to a guard dog to drive her point across.

Still, Ichigo couldn’t shake off the urge to seek her out. In fact, he’s never been able to since the start.

"I don't know Kuchiki-san personally, but I hardly think this is her kind of scene." Urahara frowns at Ichigo's nonchalance.

"I thought so too until a few days ago when she wanted to join me down here." Ichigo defends himself at Urahara's accusative look.

"And you weren't curious about the sudden change of heart?"

"Of course I was!" Ichigo retorts in annoyance at Urahara's persistence about this, "But I didn't think to ask her becau--"

"Because she probably wouldn't have told you." Urahara finishes for him as if he was privy to their relationship from just one glance.

"If you know then why are you asking, shaggy-clogs?"

"I don't know." Urahara smiles mysteriously at Ichigo before becoming the most serious Ichigo has ever seen, "But I do know where she goes two times a night when she's down her in the Ground."

"What?" Ichigo’s eyes widen.

"Don't you ever notice how she disappears around the same time? How pale and sweaty she looks afterwards? The way she smells sometimes, and I'm not talking about the alcohol." Urahara hints and with each observation he lists Ichigo's head starts thinking instead of noticing and feeling.

"Shit." Ichigo curses, having pieced it all together.

"Yoruichi has already secured the ladies room." Urahara imparts to Ichigo who has already taken off.

While pushing his way through the sweaty bodies of the Ground, Ichigo can't help admonishing himself,

'How stupid of you.'

'Why did it take this long for you to realize?'

'When did Urahara notice? Yoruichi?'

And specifically, 'Why didn't she say anything?'

Finally, out of the fog of the Grounds and in the lull of Black Cat's main room, Ichigo's head starts spinning from the sudden expend in energy and shift in his surroundings, but he doesn't take a moment for himself at all, only thinking of Rukia.

"Ichigo! Wait!" Yoruichi attempts to stop the younger man, but Ichigo ignores her pleas, brushing her off as he pushes open the door to the lady's lavatory.

It's eerily quiet and spotless as if there's no one in here, but Ichigo already knows once he steps into the restroom that someone is in here. Ichigo doesn't have to look into every stall to know where Rukia is, his feet already taking him to the one she's hiding in: the one furthest from the entrance.

With shaky hands and trepidation, Ichigo knocks lightly on the unlocked door of the stall. He doesn't want to enter without Rukia's permission, but he's also too anxious to just stand around that he starts speaking without realizing it, "Rukia. Rukia? Are you ok? Talk to me? ...Just say something if you're fine so I know, un?"

Silence.

Ichigo almost feels his heart stop when he hears slight movement from behind the door and then a cry of anguish that steals his breath and thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Rukia. I'm coming in." Ichigo announces before cracking the door wide enough to slide through.

The first thing Ichigo notices in the dark stall is the smell, poignant enough to halt him. Closer to the source now, it smells of putrid acid with a heavy air of self-doubt and self-contempt, with all of it coming from the wretched form draped over the toilet.

"Rukia!" Ichigo calls out, kneeling on the floor to take a better look at his friend. Lifting Rukia's head, Ichigo sweeps her hair back from her face while wiping her face with the hem of his shirt. She looks out of it from what little light filters in from over the stall. Fearing for the worst, Ichigo promptly checks her vitals while supporting her neck. From Rukia’s erratic breathing, her airways aren’t blocked. Feeling her pulse, Ichigo confirms that she’s in no danger, even if her pulse is slower than normal. Her hands are cold, but her face is warm: signs of a panic attack passing. Upon closer inspection too, she's so very pale and perspiring.

Ichigo concedes to call for medical emergency if Rukia doesn’t rouse within a few minutes.

“Rukia.” Ichigo whispers as if he’s afraid of the quiet.

“Rukia.” Ichigo tries again, this time louder.

When that doesn’t seem to work, he tries a more physical approach: shaking her gently, pinching the pads of her fingers, rubbing the warmth back into her body, and unconsciously stroking her pulse points as if that would be enough to shock the life back into her.

After having done everything in his ability and training, Ichigo succumbs to his emotions and as a [last ditch] effort collapses back against the wall of the stall with Rukia. Tucked in between his arms and legs, Ichigo keeps repeating her name, hoping it would rouse her. Only when his lips are almost brushing the pinna of her left ear does Rukia start to stir, mumbling incoherently, except her noises quickly dissolve into broken garbling cries as she tries to claw out from within Ichigo's body caging her in.

Heart seizing, Ichigo struggles to remain the calm one all through the noises escaping Rukia like gurgling glass. He tries to calm her first by reassuring her that she's fine, that there's no danger, that it's just him--Ichigo--but when her movements grow even more frantic, he worries she'll hurt herself if she keeps struggling. So, he does the only thing sure enough to stop her: Ichigo clamps his legs together, tighter, restricting Rukia's thrashing then cups Rukia's face between his hands and leans forward, sealing his lips over hers.

Rukia stills instantly, eyes flying open in surprise as chaotic violets finally meet honey amber.

When they part, eyes still on each other, Rukia's expression morphs in inconsolable anguish. So close to each other, Ichigo sees it all, her fall from grace: in the way the light dies in her eyes, the way her brows crease severely, the way the lines around her eyes sink further into her skin, the way the bottom of her lips glisten, wet from his kiss, and quiver. Tormented, Ichigo tucks her further into his arms while trying to erase her expression from his mind before his heart is crushed against it.

Nestled against chest, with her breath against his neck, Rukia mouths apologies into Ichigo's skin. Ichigo's only reply is to hold her even tighter like the vice around his heart, suffocating him and rendering him broken.

#drabbles #silence #ichiruki #for clumsychappy #crap writing at its finest #read at your own discretion #forewarned #wn: triggers

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spnfanficpond · 4 years

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December 2019 Pond LiveChat Recap - Structuring Longer Plots

We had a great time chatting with @jhoomwrites, today! Thank you so much for joining us and sharing your wisdom and experience!

Our chat was all about structuring longer plots, filler vs plot, and the different types of structures that are out there. (Mostly, we talked about how we don’t always have a structure in mind when we’re writing, and how we deal with it when a story breaks apart the structure we’d so carefully constructed.) A rundown of the chat, as well as general Pond news, is below the cut!

For those who don’t know her, Ashley is an avid writer, not just of fan fiction. She’s popular on Tumblr and AO3 for Destiel stories of all lengths, from little emoji ficlets she bangs out from requests (where followers send her a short string of emojis and she writes a story using them all) up to epic stories. She’s currently working on a hockey fan fiction that was her NaNoWriMo project, but with 120 SPN works on AO3, we’ve got plenty to read while she’s distracted with her hockey boys! (I’ve convinced her to be a member of the Pond, so hopefully we’ll see her around a lot in the future!)

We started off talking about how long our fics can get ( @katehuntington won with her Sullivan Series, which is currently at 570k), and whether we’re planners or pansters or a mix. Kate and Ashley are both kind of mixed, while @mrswhozeewhatsis has never successfully outlined a story, yet.

Q: Was My Liege Lord (her longest at around 80k) planned or pansted?

Ashley: It was both. I had planned out some things, but then I got new ideas as I went that I wanted to explore and it padded out the length. I had a whole fic worth of plans, but just the amount of time in their lives I ended up covering necessitated adding things. Kate: I do that too. I stick to the plan, but I add soooooo much stuff along the way.

Q: When you write, and plan out a story, do you use a particular structure?

Ashley: I haven't written out a plan for a fic in some time, but I was really consistent with the style I used for a while. I would do a chart with the main plot points to the left, and then details (excerpt of dialogues, notes about specific scenes, etc) to the right. Here’s an example:

Ashley: It helps me when I get ideas later, I can find parts in the story by looking to the left and then add notes. It's my favorite way to plan out a story, especially if I know it will be multiple chapters and if I might not be starting it any time soon. This is much nicer than the outline for the story I'm working on now, which is just a list of events in chronological order (and another list of "things i could add but i don't know where this goes"). I wrote the outline about a day before I started so I didn't need as much structure.

Q: Having a plan helps, then?

Ashley: I didn't used to plan, but then I started a multi-chapter fic and realized...... I don't have an ending. So, I like to plan that out to make sure I have an actual beginning, middle, and end. Michelle: When I start, I have an idea and an ending. That’s it. All my stories have the same ending, though: And then they kissed and lived happily ever after!

Kate: It does give freedom, not having a detailed outline.

Ashley: That is true, it does make me sad when I get somewhere in the outline and there's something I'd liked, that I'd wanted to include, but it doesn't work anymore and I have to scrap it. Gotta balance sticking to the outline vs adapting to how the tone/characters have developed.

Q: Is your planning method something you learned, or something you developed? And do you use the same structure for all of your stories?

Ashley: Something I developed. I haven't had any real training or instruction in writing. I was struggling with longer fics being unorganized and not coming together at the end, so I needed something for myself. I like making charts, so I figured that was a good way to start! lol It's not something I do as much, anymore. It was a great tool when I started doing it, and I did it for years... but possibly because I've gained more writing experience with longer stories, I don't need to do it anymore. I start a fic with a general idea, I figure out where that idea is going, and start writing. I do more of a mental checklist now. Of course, for original stories, things I hope to one day publish, I will still outline.

Q: Do parts of your structure have names? A quick Google search on how to structure novels brought back about a lot of different methods for structuring a novel, all with different numbers of steps. Each step had a general idea, like rising action, climax, falling action, etc. I guess I mean, what parts of a story do you feel need to be there for it to work? What are the parts of your structure?

Ashley: Having never paid particular attention in my English classes, I would be hard pressed to put names on different parts of my story structure. I view it as beginning (set up, putting things in place), middle (the actual story more or less, all of the action), and ending (wrapping things up, resolution).

Q: When you half wing it and the story is coming along, and then you hit a plot hole, how do you handle that?

Ashley: Well uh... **points vaguely towards abandoned WIPs** it can be rough. I do have some people I work with in terms of brainstorming. And if I get stuck with a fic I'm committed to, that I'm enjoying writing, then I talk it through with them. Sometimes, those issues are coming up--not because the story wasn't outlined--but more because I've just lost that spark of interest that I had before, and it's time to move on, anyway.

Q: There was a question submitted to the Pond by @kittenofdoomage about filler vs. plot.

Ashley: I think that's a real issue I face, filler vs plot. For some stories, I feel like I write a chapter and then can't really see what it adds to the story except maybe giving more characterization. My Liege Lord, I can think of some examples... and sometimes those things are cool, they're fun little ideas to explore and that's the only universe you could do it in, so you do it maybe for your own sake more than the story's. I think there's also a difference between reader and writer perceptions of what's filler. For my current project, there are scenes I wanted to include because I felt they were necessary to the plot, but I got the impression from people I'd polled that they would not be interested in those scenes (basically it's a romance and I was going to include things that were not directly related to the romance aspect and they said if it was more than a few paragraphs or so they didn't care). Michelle: I struggled with that with The Babysitter. Almost half of that fic is flashbacks to when the brothers were growing up and how their relationship with the reader developed. I considered cutting them all, but the fic felt thin. Sometimes, I'd pop a flashback chapter in there just to slow down the action in the present a bit, if you know what I mean. Like, chapter X is the night before the big battle, and chapter Y is the big battle, but it felt rushed to just go from X to Y, so I stuck D in between them. Ashley: Yeah, pacing is important, so the "filler" can help regulate that. It might also depend on if you view stories as about the plot or about the characters. If you view it as plot, then yes, you don't want that non-plot filler. If you view it as characters, then the filler doesn't necessarily move the story, but it adds depth and dimension to the characters and makes you appreciate them more. (I mean... I love the characters so much, I'd watch an episode of them just doing chores around the bunker...no plot, just them.) Kate: I just write what I feel like is right. Plus, I’m a sucker for a slow burn myself, so I’m not scared to let the readers wait. I like to use fillers as a stairway to the big reveal or moment. What I love even more is to put a lot of foreshadowing in there, so when they read it the second time, they go: oh! Rhi: The thing is that I've found is that filler serves a lot of purposes. As mentioned above it's great for dropping a bit of foreshadowing. It's also great for expanding your background and making your characters more than two dimensional. It also gives your readers a breather. Especially if it's a heavy plot. I often find myself rambling in filler, which is where rereading is key. With longer stories, I have a brief outline of what I want. Sometimes I'll write the major points first, the ending etc then follow up with the filler. On occasion, your filler will end up imploding your plans but that's cool. That's when you either roll with it or take a break and neither of those are bad choices. It depends on the individual.

Q: (In one of the articles linked below) Peter Behrens mentioned a novel idea. He basically said he doesn’t worry about structure until the revision stage. He writes what he wants to, and then when he’s revising, he tweaks the story to fit whatever structure it fits to best.

Ashley: I do like that, and that's something that @unforth-ninawaters has mentioned. We're working on shorter stories that would need to be under 7.5k and I said I don't know if I could hit that. She said to write the whole story, even if it's longer, and then have someone edit it with an eye to shorten it, if necessary, and you'll probably end up with a tighter story that way. So, basically, that's how I view writing things, now. I write what I want to write for the story, and if it needs to go, it'll disappear later in the editing process. But what if it does belong? Well, then it's there, already. And yes on slow burns... for fic, it's a staple, and for WIPs, it's part of the lure, the draw in, as a reader--knowing that maybe they will maybe they won't hook up this week.

To close out the chat, we talked about the story structures listed in the following two links:

How to find your novel’s structure - This article discusses the traditional 5-stage plot structure (exposition, rising action, climax, falling action and resolution) and the 3-act structure (setup, confrontation, resolution), as well as some other points, like how characterization can affect structure.

Writing Cooperative - Use a story structure to make writing your novel a lot easier - This article lists several structures, and includes links to read more about each one and their strengths and weaknesses. Different stories might do better under different structures, too. A romance novel wouldn’t necessarily need the 12 steps in The Hero’s Journey.

These links are definitely worth checking out if you have any fears or concerns about your story’s structure!

Next month we’re going to talk about Real People Fiction! We’re still looking for a guest speaker, so if anyone is interested, send a message to @mrswhozeewhatsis!! Date and time to be announced!

General Pond Updates and Reminders

What we’ve got cooking up next: Not much, at the moment, since everyone is busy, so we’re just trying to keep up with the day-to-day at the moment! Our to do list is still long, though, and will not be neglected forever! Next up is organizing the tagging system on the blog to make it easier for readers to find the stories they’re interesting in and for writers to find the help they’re looking for!

Reminders:

Angel Fish Award nominations are accepted all month long! No need to wait to tell us how much you liked a fellow Fish’s work! IF YOU HAVE SENT IN A NOMINATION, BUT HAVE NOT RECEIVED A PRIVATE MESSAGE CONFIRMING WE RECEIVED IT, WE DIDN’T GET IT. Be sure to use Submit instead of Ask!

Don’t forget to submit your stories to be posted to the blog! When your stories are on the blog, then they are easier to nominate for Angel Fish Awards!

Say hi to November’s New Members! (If we missed someone, let us know!)

Check the Pond CALENDAR to see when Big Fish will be in the Skype chat room/discord general channel and other Pond and SPN events are happening! Know of something that’s not on the calendar, send us an ask or submission with the deets info details! The calendar offers a lot of features, such as showing you when things are in your own timezone! Since we’re an international group, that’s a definite plus!!

We’re looking for a guest speaker for January to talk about RPF! If you know of an RPF writer that you’d like to hear from, let us know!!

#spnfanficpond livechat #chat recap #chat room #let's chat #THE CHAT ROOM #pond chat #plot development #character development

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