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moonlight-prose · 7 months

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If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #my writing

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rivero-piv · 9 months

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While I'm at it, here's another WIP that I never finished (bonus for Hook and Turbo!) This was supposed to be a redraw of a much older fanart for @evildisneydorks's old fic, HMOV.

For its second anniversary nonetheless

But this has been sitting in my folders long enough for the third anniversary LMAO

#sorry adrian I hope you can accept this like 1/5th of the entire drawinf #😭#my art #fanart #disney villains #turbo #captain hook #hades #jafar #reev's phone

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zeenimf · 23 days

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Farewell my Eyjafjörður | Vertu Bara

i haven't forgotten about this wip, as sigga and sera haunt my mind every living moment. have been feeling so angsty lately that i decided to reread some of the old writing and found this snippet at the bottom of my wip folder. i thought you might like it. the excerpt continues below the cut

Sigga stands peering out of the window and finds the streets outside deserted.

“I hope Óli and Fjólar are okay,” she says, closing the curtain and turning around. She doesn’t know the old man who owned this apartment very well, but it was the one house they could break into without leaving a trace.

Sera sits on the bed, her knees pulled up, clutching them with all her might. Her eyes are closed, held that way forcefully.

“You can open your eyes, if you’d like.” says Sigga. She does her best to sound sure of herself, to fake an ounce of confidence for Sera to latch onto, but she can't get the image of Sera’s possession out of her head. The way she hung in the air, her eyes a burning red, played with like a crude puppet. As such her words are nothing more than hollow promises. In truth Sigga isn’t sure of anything anymore.

taglist for Farewell my Eyjafjörður (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

“Or maybe you can get some sleep,” she continues. “If our plan has worked they shouldn’t be able to reach us now. I’ll just sleep in this chair, and you can get some rest in the bed.”

Sera does not answer. She hasn’t moved ever since Sigga carefully led her to the bed.

Outside the wind has picked up, howling through the streets. In other circumstances this could have been cosy, a night where you huddle up next to hearth with a cup of tea. But then Sera speaks, her words barely more than a whisper, words so frail they break upon reaching Sigga’s ears.

“Come.”

Sigga turns her head to Sera.

“Please,” she whispers again. It takes a moment for Sigga to register the question. She doesn't want to invade Sera's personal space, a space she normally defends furiously. But when Sera does not change her mind Sigga pulls herself out of the chair as slowly as she can, crossing the room until she stands at the edge of the bed. Only now does she realise that Sera is shaking, almost as if her body is shifting in and out of this world, resonating to those horrific melodies the spirits sang.

“You sure?”

Sera nods, her gesture barely visible, but enough for Sigga to catch with a lifetime of experience. She crawls onto the bed and sits next to Sera to the sound of creaking wood, inching towards her until their shoulders touch. Sigga jerks back, afraid for a moment that touching Sera would call out the ghosts.

“Fuck, sorry,” she says, biting her lip. Sera lets her head rest on her knees as she clutches her knees even harder, almost as if she wants to rip through her clothes and into her own skin.

“Vertu bara,” says Sera. Just stay. Sera’s r’s resonate through her whispered plea, rolling almost like a cat’s purr. She has always pronounced them deeper in her throat, her one tell that Icelandic isn’t her native language, but one Sigga has always liked. With a deep breath Sigga pushes herself gently against the huddled-up Sera, raising her arm above Sera and letting her hand drape on Sera’s shoulder, careful as not to touch her scarred arms.

It is Sera that jerks away this time, but not in such a way that she breaks away from Sigga’s grip. After the shock has waned Sera leans slightly into Sigga. Sigga takes Sera’s hair in response and brushes it to the side, making space for Sera to rest her head on Sigga’s shoulder.

“Do you still hate the way your fingers look?” says Sera.

“What?”

“Your fingers.”

Sigga does her best to suppress her laughter, but fails to keep it all in.

“What are you on about?”

“I just wanted to say that your long bony piano fingers are pretty,” says Sera.

Sigga can feel Sera’s body lean against her more and more, allowing her to fall into Sigga fully. She has stopped shaking too, and Sigga manages to catch a glimpse of Sera’s eyes without moving her head. Her face isn’t strained anymore, soundly asleep. Sigga pulls a blanket over Sera’s knees and closes her own eyes. Even though her position is uncomfortable she’s afraid to move, especially when Sera’s only just fallen asleep. Without realising she pulls Sera closer to her, cradling her, hoping that it’s enough to guard Sera from the nightmares that haunt her every night.

#fiction #wlw #writeblr #excerpt #romance #farewell #sigga #sera

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hurricanek8art · 6 months

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Okay, I don't know what's going on with Tumblr and everything has been absolute chaos with my life the past few months, so y'know what, screw it. I think I'm actually brave enough to share some of my art. At least it won't just be sitting on my tablet that way.

This is my Sith Inquisitor turned Force-sensitive Outcast from SWTOR, Roodaka Greatstorm-Kallig. I haven't really plotted everything out with her regarding her story, but she's not my Outlander. She leaves the Empire right after Ziost, after losing all of the family she'd used her Dark Council connections to find and save from slavery, and Lana recruits her to help Sana-Rae run the Enclave about two years before the Outlander (my Knight Aja Verdona) is rescued. She's prickly and petty and spiteful but I love her dearly. And because I've never posted art before, art process and a little bit of character lore ramble under the cut, I guess?

I usually work with lined art/sketches that are admittedly very messy, but when I did the first one back in May I was experimenting with actually rendering/painting, and I saw a fashion post thing that looked like something Roo would wear, so I was mostly just playing around, it's not a solid outfit design for her. It's janky and wonky and oh Lord please don't look closely at the anatomy or face it is not up to my usual standards, but I was so proud of myself for the lighting on this one, as well as how I managed to render the muscle. Like, the lighting! I have no idea what I'm doing but I think it looks so flipping good! And I was happy with how the crackly lightsaber blade turned out—it is supposed to be Aloysius Kallig's lightsaber, meaning it's at least over a thousand years old, right? It should be a little janky with age!

The second one is supposed to be post Fallen Empire, after she's left the Sith and become sort of a wandering Force-user—think Ahsoka as of, well... Ahsoka, but more on the side of Ventress if she'd survived TCW (don't get me started on that choice 🙄🙄🙄). I came into it knowing a little more of what I was doing, but I kinda got in over my head and gave up on the 100% lineless thing, you can definitely tell with the sword/clothes. 🥴 The second piece has been sitting unfinished in my WIP folder for months, so I just said screw it, finished up some details and called it because I am SO PROUD of her face and hands (I DREW A GOOD HAND WITHOUT LINEART WHO AM I?!?!) and how I rendered her skin, I don't want it to live in WIP purgatory forever. You can actually tell that's muscle! And a neck!

I'm proud of how her tattoos turned out, too. I played around with Cham Syndulla's tattoo pattern, turning it at different angles. It felt like a good way to root her in Twi'lek culture despite the Kallig bloodline having been separated from it for so long. She gets the first one to cover up a slave tattoo, and the rest after Ziost to further reclaim her identity and culture, leaving the Sith behind.

I have no idea how to close this post. Um... thanks for reading all this, if you have? I've never posted art before, I'm kinda terrified. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

#K8's Art #(never thought i'd have the guts to make that tag!)#K8 Rambles about SWTOR #swtor #swtor sith inquisitor #swtor fanart #star wars the old republic #SWTOR OC: Roodaka Greatstorm-Kallig #i am utterly terrified of posting this but if i don't do it i dunno if i ever will #so here we go! deep breaths kate 🤣🤣🤣#edit: i'm gonna pin this at the top rather than that meet the artist because if i look at that self portrait anymore i'm gonna combust 🤣

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physalian · 6 months

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Writing with Executive Dysfunction (or how to lower the barrier of entry)

So you want to write a book, but all you have is a cool one-liner, a niche super power you want to explore, and the blurry image of a love interest with a two-syllable kind of name. You don’t know where to start, what to tackle first, how to jump in the deep end.

Can you write the ending first? What if you want this really cool gimmick in a fight scene but can’t write action to save your life? Do you start in media res or with a prologue, or with the character starting their daily routine? Do you write the villain’s POV first?

Or do you start with an outline, character sheets, a title, summary, your themes and motifs? How many pages and pages of worldbuilding notes should you have built up before you’re good to tackle the first page? You’ve heard time and again the critical importance of the first three sentences. The first chapter if your audience is generous.

The pressure mounts to be unique, but not try-hard, descriptive but not flowery, intriguing, but not confusing, all in the first hundred or so words. You sit there staring at the little blinking black line on your blank page… and the idea gets shelved for another day. It collects virtual dust in the backlogs of your computer, forgotten until you have to clear out space on your hard drive and stumble across unspent potential.

Everyone and their dog has their own bits of writing advice and I’m sure I’m about to echo tips that have been around the block once or twice, but there are a few I don’t see talked about enough.

Whether you suffer from severe procrastination, fear of failure before you even begin, the overwhelming limitlessness of choice, or just can’t sit down and dedicate any time to see what happens, this list might be for you.

1. Write Every Day

This is nothing new, but I’m going to tackle the implementation of such a habit over why it’s important. You already know why it’s important. Writing every day doesn’t demand a full page of a Word doc, or 200 words before you can get up and do something else. Sometime a witty dialogue exchange comes to mind while you’re doing dishes – write that down.

Or you saw a cool name for a character in a commercial – write that down.

Or you had a dream about your characters in a high-octane street chase – write down the synopsis.

Personally, I use Apple Notes. It’s free, I can log-in to iCloud through a browser and keep writing, and my phone is always with me. I have dedicated folders to sort which notes belong to which concepts.

Disclaimer: Apple Notes is meant for exactly that: Note taking. I take it to the extremes, but it’s not a word processer. It’s not meant for anything more strenuous than putting virtual pen to virtual paper.

I build up so many variations of scene ideas and concepts for character arcs that my ‘notes’ for any given book can be as long as a full-length novel. Most of the time, admittedly, those ideas get outdated fast as I move on to bigger and better things, but the point is this: I never would move on to better things if I didn’t have somewhere to start.

I have a personal grudge against OneDrive for a sync failure losing 20k words of a WIP, so most of my writing is done through Google Docs and saved to Google Drive. It’s not the most powerful word processor, but you don’t have to worry about formatting until the very end and can export later. It’s free, like Apple Notes (assuming you have an iPhone), and the smart phone app for Google programs works phenomenally better than the MS Word app – so once again, the barrier for being within reach of places to jot down ideas is lowered. My phone is always with me.

It doesn’t have to be digital – carry around a journal or a notebook or a legal pad if you want. Whatever gets your creative juices flowing. The point is to have somewhere to take all the ideas you have in your head and get them onto paper the moment inspiration strikes.

2. Writing is Supposed to be Fun

The dreaded writer’s block, scourge of authors everywhere. You’ve reached the point in your manuscript where you’ve caught up to the epic adventure you’ve written in your head. The little writer in your brain has gone on strike and you’re left in the doldrums of how to transition from one chapter to the next. One idea to the next. One scene, one line of dialogue.

Answer: Skip it.

Unless you have a hard deadline to make, writing is supposed to be fun. Your best work comes when you’re passionate about doing it, not when you’re holding your fingers hostage to put something on the page or else.

When you start getting frustrated, walk away. When you get stressed, walk away. The manuscript will still be there once you’ve slept on it for a day or two and you’ll be glad for it. Or, write a different scene. Write a hypothetical scene (more on this point later). Write anything you want and come back to the hard parts later. The gaps will fill eventually, and if they don’t—consider what about that transition or scene is so hard and consider axing it entirely. If it’s frustrating for you, it’s probably boring or unimportant to the reader.

3. Script it

My favorite writer’s crutch is to make a skeleton of the scene I want to have, fill it with dialogue, and move on. The pretty thematic narrative can come later. It’s halfway between an outline and a first draft and, for me, someone to whom dialogue comes easier than narrative, this is another barrier removed to letting creativity flow.

I don’t have to think about dialogue tags or movement of a scene or how exactly I want to structure a sentence or describe the setting. Scripting lets me sus out the pacing of a given scene, test run a conversation I have in my head to see if it might really work before investing all the time and effort of a fully fleshed out first draft, only to erase it all later.

You can do this mid-narrative, too. If you just want to skip over a couple lines that aren’t coming naturally to you, script a vague sense of stage directions until you get to easier narrative and come back later.

When I say scripting, mine look something like this:

Character A (ChA): [position within the setting, tone of voice, any notable gesture or action that enhances the dialogue] “Dialogue.” [specific dialogue tag, if necessary] … (often a paragraph break) … “Dialogue.” Character B (ChB): “Dialogue.” [emotion, reaction, details about the setting that are now important, new revelations by the narrating POV] … “Dialogue,” [action. Tonal shift. Movement] ChA: “Dialogue.” [action] … (scene continues)

In practice:

… ChA: [kicks back against the wall of the room, arms crossed. Annoyed, waiting for ChB to speak first, but they don’t] “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to leave?” [head tilts, still waiting on an answer ChB isn’t giving] “All you had to do was ask.” ChB: “You were having fun,” [quiet, wringing their hands in their lap on the edge of the bed] “You wanted me there. So I was there.” [huffs, flips their hair back. Not sure how many times they’ve had this conversation. Will always hate parties, not going to suddenly like them just because ChA is there] “You can either have me there, or make sure I’m comfortable. You can’t have both.” ChA: “So now I’m the bad guy.” [foot thumps on the floor like a judge’s gavel] …

Scripting also lets you fill a scene with multiple new characters before you figure out their names or descriptions, tagging their lines with the bare minimum. I often test out entire action scenes (which I loathe writing) in script form, so I know I’m satisfied with the pacing, blocking, and amount of movement before I lock it in and write the first draft of actual narrative. It also forces you to make sure your characters are taking actions and not just sitting at a table like talking mannequins.

Transitioning from script to narrative can be mighty tedious sometimes if you try to fit in chunks of narrative in the exact places you left on your initial pass. Fictional prose is organic, so let it breathe.

Maybe you let a character monologue for too long, or they have too much movement in a scene that becomes unnatural and clunky. Or the entire scene ran away from you because the conversation was just that good. Whatever the case, a script, bare minimum, gets your foot in the door.

4. Write Fanfic

I like sci-fi and fantasy. I also like taking my sci-fi and fantasy characters and throwing them into ‘fanfics’ to test out relationships and start to get a feel for what makes them unique from the rest of the cast.

Sometimes the setting changes to something mundane, sometimes it’s a hypothetical scene that the current pacing of the narrative just doesn’t have room for, or it’s a flashback you’ll never include but want to have written so it’s concrete when you reference it in the present.

It also helps you fall in love with your characters when you can write them without consequence, doing whatever, doing whoever, saying whatever, going wherever. In fanfic, their personalities can start to write themselves and you discover them as you write them. And, hey, sometimes you come up with a concept so good, you change the entire real narrative around to fit it.

All your attention doesn’t have to be on the story you’re actually writing.

5. Keep All of Your Deleted Scenes

I keep so many of mine, the ‘deleted scenes’ doc of one book is 40k words longer than the actual manuscript, filled with numerous variations of the same scene written over and over again in vain trying to keep something that no longer works.

Keep them for several reasons:

It reminds you of how far you’ve come.

You can pick through the bones for bits of dialogue and setting descriptors even if the majority is trashed.

You remind yourself of what didn’t work before, so you don’t fall in that same trap again.

If you change your mind, all you have to do is copy-paste it back in.

6. Remember First Drafts are First Drafts

Let the word spew flow forth from your fingers and don’t look back and start questioning every decision and all its flaws until your creativity tank starts sputtering on empty. It’s supposed to be messy, it’s supposed to have plot holes and typos and inconsistencies and things to fact-check. If you start hyper-fixating on making sure your manuscript has absolutely no errors before moving on to the next chapter, it will never get written, and you’ll convince yourself you’re a terrible writer.

Writing is easy. Revisions are hard. Just as storytelling doesn’t have to be linear, neither does the writing process. If that critical first line just won’t come to you, stuff a mediocre one in its place and move on. Write the ending first. Write all the romantic entanglements first. Write the big climactic argument first and figure out how the rest falls into place around your beautiful centerpiece.

But remember: You do, at some point, have to write the hard stuff. Hopefully, when the time comes, you look at all the rest you’ve written and are proud enough of your progress that those daunting scenes that looked impossible before become much more approachable now. Do it for your future readers who want to know how it ends. Do it for your characters. Do it for you.

#writing advice #writing a book

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greenbergwrites · 5 months

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hi!! idk if you’ve answered an ask about this (or if you have any interest in continuing this verse, which is totally ok if you don’t!) but I always wondered what you had planned for those 2-3 extra parts you mentioned in the blood in my veins. it’s one of my favorite stucky fics so anything and everything you’re willing to share about it would make my day 🫶🏽

ah, my first foray into stucky <3 I really loved that 'verse, I can't believe I never finished it

The TL;DR version is that Part Two was going to be them during the war and Part Three was going to be modern day where they reunite once and for all. I had 2500 words written for the modern day part, and I can share it if you're interested, but here is an interlude that I wrote about them from the Commandos' point of view but never finished yes this has been sitting in my WIP folder for almost a decade

(There was supposed to be more between everything else and those last two lines. I always knew those lines would end this part.)

~~~

Here’s what the Commandos know about Rogers and Barnes:

Don’t try to come between them and you’ll be alright.

---

The facts are this:

The war tried to come between them when it drafted Barnes, so Rogers decided he was going to enlist. The Army tried next when they wouldn’t let him, so he signed up for Project Rebirth.

Colonel Phillips tried when he wouldn’t send Rogers to the front lines and then he tried again when Barnes was captured and the Colonel didn’t plan on sending a rescue team.

It’s around that time that people start getting wise to the idea that trying to keep them apart is pretty embarrassing for everyone involved. The crazy bastards are going to stay together no matter what. They’re gonna follow each other anywhere - everywhere - and it’s just easier if you let ‘em.

So, Rogers rescues Barnes and then the Army gives them their own team. Officially, it’s Captain America’s team but none of the Commandos are stupid. They know exactly how the hierarchy in the team works and rank has exactly fuck all to do with it.

---

Dugan saw Barnes’ tattoo pretty early on. The damn thing was like his good luck charm. He wasn’t shy about staring at it or running his fingers over it. Hell, he even kissed it before one fight. Dugan ribbed Barnes good about it, but he only received a sharp grin in response. Barnes never rose to the bait and Dugan was never trusted with the name of the dame to which the initials SR belonged.

After Azzano, he doesn’t really think to connect the dots. Not until Rogers catches a knife to the shoulder in their second mission.

Now that’s a story all its own but the long and short of it is this: they capture an enemy combatant. The plan is to take him back to base for interrogation but the sonuvabitch gets loose, manages to get some sort of shiv in the good Captain before he’s subdued.

Rogers, blood soaking his uniform, just looks at the poor bastard and says, calm as anything, “you shouldn’t have done that.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth, there’s a bullet in the prisoner’s skull. Rogers is the only one that doesn’t jump, the only one that isn’t goddamn floored by it. Barnes appears out of thin air, holstering his side-arm calmly. His face isn’t calm, though. It’s a dark thing, that look in his eyes. Near black with rage.

He strides purposefully toward Steve, settling proprietary hands on him as soon as he’s close enough. He pats Steve down for any other injuries as the others look on in frozen shock.

No one had even known Barnes was there.

“You okay?” Barnes asks, and Rogers nods, a funny little smile twisting his mouth.

He looks at Barnes like he hung the fuckin’ moon and Barnes is looking back like he’ll burn the world down around them if he thinks it’ll heal Rogers any faster.

It’s Dugan, Morita, and Falsworth that see the whole thing go down. It’s the three of them that find themselves on the receiving end of Barnes’ glare when he says, “Get Jones, now.”

Morita’s the first to move but he does it slowly, like any wrong move will get him a bullet, too. Dugan and Falsworth follow, helpless, when Barnes starts herding their Captain towards shelter. There’s a kind of morbid fascination to see how this turns out.

“Get to the tent,” Barnes says. “We need to get this off’a you.”

Rogers moves but reluctantly, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Buck --”

“Shut up, Rogers, don’t give me any of that super soldier bullshit. Get in the fucking tent.”

Rogers does and then Barnes starts undressing him. He touches the Captain like he owns him, not bothering to ask about this or that before he just does it and Rogers, well. Rogers lets him. It’s completely at odds with what they know about the man.

“You shouldn’t have shot him in the head,” Rogers says but he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds almost amused.

Barnes pauses to give him an incredulous look. “He fuckin’ stabbed you, Steve. What did you want me to do?”

“Try a kneecap next time.”

Next time.

Jesus, Dugan thinks. Rogers expects this to happen again.

Barnes grunts, assenting, as he carefully peels the uniform off the Captain’s injured shoulder and then shoves it down around his waist. Blood trickles down Rogers’ bare chest and Barnes uses the cleanest rag they currently have to wipe it away. He doesn’t leave Rogers alone until the rest of the team arrives–Morita dragging Jones, Dernier taking up the rear–and then he moves to stand behind Rogers, a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

“He got stabbed,” Barnes says, short and angry. “Shoulder. Fix it.”

Jones blinks, surprised by the venomous tone, but nods and goes to work. There is a careful wariness in his movements as he goes to touch Steve, the barest of glances toward Bucky that ask for permission to touch and Barnes knows it because he nods his approval. Morita must have given them the quick and dirty of what happened.

As the wound is tended, Barnes’ fingers dig into Steve’s flesh and Steve reaches a hand up to soothe him.

That’s when they see it. It’s there and gone in a flash, a blink and you miss it twist of Steve’s wrist that gives them the show, but none of them actually miss it.

They glance at each other to make sure–Jones tilts his head to Dernier for just a second, Dernier to Morita and Morita to Dugan, Dugan to Falsworth–and then just as quickly, they all glance away.

JB, the tattoo on his wrists says--a mirror to Barnes’ own.

Well. At least Dugan knows who SR is now.

---

They bury the body in an unmarked grave and when they get back to camp, no one mentions the soldier they captured. It’s as if there never was one.

Barnes never does it again but he comes close enough that Dugan knows if it hadn’t been for Steve’s words, there’d be a lot more dead bodies left in their wake.

---

There’s a shadow over Barnes and there always has been. Dugan saw it the first time they met; past the pretty boy face and the charming smiles, darkness lurks. It didn’t matter much back in the beginning and it doesn’t matter much now.

Shadow or not, Barnes is a likable guy. He’s a good shot and a good soldier, tells good stories by the campfires, and he’s loyal to boot. Not just to Captain Rogers, either. He’s been loyal to his men since day one and he’ll do anything he can to see them through to the other side of whatever shit the Army puts them in.

That doesn’t change when Rogers comes along but there is a noticeable shift in priority. Barnes will always protect Rogers first and nothing anyone says is gonna change that. Dugan thanks his lucky stars every goddamn day that Rogers is a man who can take care of himself, otherwise the rest of ‘em might be fucked all to hell.

---

Nobody is surprised when Steve crashes the plane. They’re just surprised he lasted as long as he did.

#moodymelanist #greenberg replies #the blood in my veins #my fic #wips that i never finished

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cariantha · 1 year

Text

War and Peace

Book: Open Heart, Book 2, Chapter 13 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: This fic contains several metaphors related to war, bombs, and explosives. It may be triggering to those sensitive to that imagery. Category: Angsty Fluff Word count: 3K Summary: Sawyer is overwhelmed when she returns to Edenbrook for the first time after the attack and Ethan struggles with his emotions when Louise ends up in the E.R. (CH13 Rewrite) A/N: This is the first fic that I ever attempted to write. It has been sitting in my WIP folder ⅔ complete for quite some time and I am so happy to finally finish it. There’s also a pretty good chance I’m on an FBI watchlist now after some of the Google searches I did for this one.😝

The charges had been set. Anyone who wandered into this field would most certainly succumb to injury. And it wasn’t long before the first mine was tripped.

“I have to get back to work.”

“That was your mom, Ethan. She nearly died. You can take a minute. It’s okay–”

“No it isn’t. There are patients that need me much more than she does.”

The blowback from the door slamming stunned her and with the firefight continuing on the other side, Sawyer sheltered in the dimly lit on-call room.

“Dr. Ramsey!” the nurse shouted, “I was just about to page you. There’s a patient in the E.R. requesting to speak with you.”

“I don’t have any patients in that unit. Have another doctor follow up,” he said gruffly as he continued to walk down the hall in the opposite direction.

“But she says she’s your moth-"

He abruptly cut her off while spinning around to face her. “I don’t give a damn what she said! I told you to find someone else!”

Turning on his heel he stormed off as the blast wave rippled to all in the detonation zone causing shock and horror.

Ethan climbed the emergency stairs to the fifth floor. “God dammit!” he shouted as he paused on the landing. Placing both hands on the wall, he hung his head and took a couple deep breaths before pushing himself off and exiting onto the floor.

Rage permeated from him as he stormed down the hall to his office. Passersby took cautious steps not wanting to wander into enemy territory. All but the oblivious intern who ignored their silent waves of warning. With a flashbang, the chart Dr. Garrison thrust toward Ethan flew like shrapnel into the air.

Finally making it to his safe house, he slammed the door and let out a shuddering sigh of relief to be alone at last.

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Having surveyed some of the destruction, Naveen approached the door to Ethan’s office. Demonstrating true bravery, he didn’t wait for an invitation to enter, taking a seat across from his mentee.

“Do you need something?” Ethan asked, annoyed and not looking up from his computer.

“I came to ask you that question. I understand your mother was brought to the E.R. earlier today. I’m so sorry, that must have been quite the shock.”

Eyes still trained on the screen, Ethan avoided Naveen’s worrisome gaze. “Naveen, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not in the mood to discuss this,” he said. Forcing his eyes closed for a moment, “I… can’t right now.”

“I understand, son. I know you well enough to not force it. And you know if there is anything I can help with-"

“I know,” Ethan interjected.

“Good. Now, there was another reason I came to visit. I heard Sawyer was here today,” Naveen smiled.

“Yes, she brought her landlord to the clinic,” Ethan stated, still avoiding eye contact.

“How’s she doing? Is she still around? I’d like to say a proper hello.”

“Uh… I’m not sure,” he said ashamedly.

Naveen didn’t miss the subtle change as Ethan’s demeanor shifted from irritation to guilt.

“Does Sawyer know about Louise?”

“Yes. She was with me in the E.R.”

Naveen noticed a slight wince.

“Hmm, why does it feel like you are leaving out an important piece of information?”

Ethan groaned deeply and leaned back in his chair. “Only that I’m an asshole,” he mumbled, tilting his face up toward the ceiling.

“Yes, that is what most people are calling you after the incidents with Nurse Sara and Dr. Garrison this morning.” With an exasperated sigh Naveen continued. “Please don't tell me you blew up on Sawyer too.”

“She followed me when I left the E.R. She wanted to talk about it and I didn’t. I lost my temper and stormed off. I let the door slam in her face.”

“Ethan, you experienced something traumatic today and you are entitled to your feelings. But don’t misdirect your anger, son, especially to those who care deeply for you. Sawyer’s already in such a fragile state. You and I both know she only wanted to make sure you were okay, and be there to support you, as you have done for her,” Naveen admonished.

“I know,” he said frustrated, getting a disappointed look from his mentor. “I’m sorry. I know.”

“It’s not me you need to apologize to.”

When Ethan didn’t respond, Naveen pressed on, “She’s not your mother, Ethan, don’t push her away. You’ve given her plenty of opportunity to move on, but she’s remained by your side. You need to trust her.”

“I do trust her,” Ethan countered.

“With your secrets, and perhaps even with your life, but you need to trust her with your heart too.”

Ethan took a deep breath and nodded, silently acknowledging his mentor’s advice.

“Well then...” Naveen clapped his hands together and stood, “I don’t think I have to tell you to clean up the rest of your mess later. And if you see my grand-mentee, tell her to come find me. There is so much gossip I need to catch her up on.”

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

The steady ticking in her chest began the moment she decided to accompany Farley to the free clinic. As the day wore on, the ticks grew louder with each of her interactions. First with Ethan and Louise, then Esme and Levi. Butting heads with Sienna over her treatment of Mitch, signaled the final countdown.

She could try to disarm this bomb by cutting one of the wires. The right one would mean safety in the arms of the man who’s been at her side these past few weeks. The only one who knows what she needs to avoid the impending disaster. The wrong one, however, would mean game over. Chewing on her thumbnail, she considered the possible outcomes. Given Ethan’s current volatility, it was just too great a risk to go to him. Instead she would find a place where this bomb could detonate with minimal casualties. With time running out, she headed toward the lab to see if she could expedite the test results for her only patient.

A short while later, having updated Farley on his lab work and course of treatment, Sawyer made her way to the nurses’ station to drop off his chart. Scribbling notes as she walked, she paused momentarily to sign the paperwork. As she looked up, her eyes fell to the window of an all too familiar room. The ticking that plagued her throughout the day suddenly stopped, followed by an eerie moment of silence before… BOOM!

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Naveen stood at the nurses’ station. As he listened to Maureen share the latest details about Dr. Wen’s bitter divorce, he noticed Sawyer from the corner of his eye. His excitement to greet her immediately turned to concern.

“Excuse me for one moment, Maureen,” he interrupted, pausing their conversation.

Frozen in place, and eyes locked on the view in front of her, Naveen watched Sawyer’s chest rise and fall as if she had just finished running a marathon. It didn’t take but a second to realize what drew her gaze. She stared through the window into the patient room previously used by the diagnostics team. The room.

As if she were taking enemy fire to the chest, she took several stumbling steps backward until her shoulders hit the wall, sliding slowly down to the ground.

Naveen walked urgently in Sawyer’s direction with Maureen in tow.

Like a wounded soldier, Sawyer was slumped against the wall. The color in her face ashen, eyes frozen, pupils dilated and sweat beading at her hairline. A trembling hand clutched the blue fabric over her heart.

Before kneeling down at her side, Naveen whispered to Maureen. “Go find Ethan. I think he’s still in his office.”

Maureen nodded and hurried down the hall.

“Oh my dear girl, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I… I ca-can’t… br-eathe,” she panted, “my… ch-ch-chest… h-hurts.”

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

The battering ram at his door immediately put him on the defensive.

“Dr. Ramsey?”

“This better be an emergency,” he hollered.

“It is,” she called back.

Ethan cracked the door open to see Maureen’s eye focused down the hall.

“What is it?” he demanded, poking his head out the door to see what held her attention.

“It’s Dr. Brooks. Come quick.”

Suddenly on a rescue mission, Ethan’s long and purposeful strides carried him to the opposite end of the hall in an instant. Providing cover, and intent on getting her to safety, he pushed past the nurses and interns that were now crowded around.

“There’s no show here. Get back to work!” he shouted, squatting down to her level.

“Sawyer?” He gave her a moment to react before trying again. “Sawyer, look at me.”

Shell shocked, she couldn’t register anything but the frustrated demand of someone still upset with her earlier meddling, and upset now for not being able to control her emotions in public. So she hid her eyes in her hands and postured her body away from him.

Not realizing he was on the same side of this fight, she fired her shot. “Please…go…awaaay,” she cried out.

Wounded, he looked desperately to Naveen.

The older doctor politely gestured for Ethan to take a step back.

“Sawyer, take my hand… that’s it… now take a deep breath… that’s a girl… and another,” Naveen encouraged.

Nursing his wound from the sideline, Ethan anxiously tapped his foot and combed his fingers through his hair. It took all his restraint not to force his way in, scoop her up, and carry her somewhere safe.

Naveen and Maureen eventually helped her stand and walked her to a nearby patient room. Maureen drew the blinds, as Naveen helped her settle onto the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Sawyer whispered.

He held her hand and looked into her bloodshot eyes. “Don’t you dare apologize. You did nothing wrong. Do you hear me?”

As Naveen checked her vitals, he noticed how her eyes drifted to the open door where Ethan paced back and forth. “He’s very worried about you.”

“No,” she shook her head, “he’s angry with me, and I really can’t handle that right now.”

“Oh my dear, I promise you he’s not,” he assured, offering her some tissues. “He told me about how he treated you this morning. He is not angry with you. Not at all. He was angry about Louise and unfairly took it out on you, and I nearly knocked him upside the head for it...”

A small laugh escaped as she wiped her nose.

“But I didn’t because he was already beating himself up far more than I ever could. He knows he was wrong and needs to apologize.”

She looked into the hall again. Ethan leaned against the wall with his head tilted up to the ceiling, a worrisome expression on his face. Naveen followed her gaze again.

“He was like this the night we thought we were going to lose you. He's scared, Sawyer. He needs to know you’re okay.”

Ethan stood in the hall feeling like a prisoner of war. He kept glancing into the room hoping that Naveen would negotiate a release and that Sawyer would finally spare him of this torture.

Deciding to wave the white flag, “Would you ask him to come in, Naveen?” she asked.

“Of course, dear. I’ll give you two some time alone, but I’ll be just down the hall. Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

Naveen walked into the hallway. He shared a few quiet words with Ethan, squeezing his arm in support before walking away.

As Ethan cautiously entered the room, their eyes met, both glistening with unshed tears. Sawyer held out her hand to encourage him to come closer.

Responding quickly, Ethan took a couple steps to the side of the bed and grasped her hand tightly.

Sawyer pulled him down into a tight hug, tears of relief soaking his cheek and shirt.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling back to assess her condition.

She nodded, a few more tears escaping.

As Ethan wiped them away from her cheek, he practically begged, “What can I do?”

Sawyer scooted over and patted the side of the bed. “Will you lie down with me?”

Ethan took his place, cradling her in his arms just as he did that gut-wrenching night a few weeks ago. He waited until her heartbeat returned to a normal rhythm and the tension in her muscles relaxed. “Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asked.

“I only meant to bring my landlord to the clinic and then leave. It was just supposed to be a quick in-and-out. I thought I could soldier through. But then Farley was admitted, and your mom was brought in, and my intern…” she trailed off.

“And of course, you were thinking more about everyone else than yourself,” Ethan thought to himself as he stroked her hair.

“I started to feel really anxious and that I should go home, and I was on my way out, but then I found myself in front of that room. And the flashbacks were so…” she shook her head. “I-I couldn’t move… or breathe," her voice trembled. “It felt like it was happening all over again.”

Ethan couldn’t possibly hold her closer, but he tried anyway. “You’re safe. It’s all over now,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I won’t let anything happen to you. You’ll always be safe with me, Rookie.”

Sawyer choked back a sob knowing he spoke the truth. After a moment of lying quietly in each other’s arms, she murmured into his chest. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”

“What on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“For telling you to go away, for shutting you out. If I hurt you, I’m sorry. I thought you were still mad at me for pushing you to talk about your mom. And I’m sorry for making a scene out there, I didn’t mean to add to your burdens today.”

“First of all, I deserved it. I’m the one who shut you out. Quite literally when I walked out of the on-call room and let the door slam shut. Second, I don’t give a shit about any scene. The only thing I care about is that you’re okay.”

He lifted her chin until he could look her in the eye. "Sawyer, I am the one that needs to apologize. Not you. I feel terrible that my behavior contributed to your anxiety. This thing with Louise caught me off guard. I'm sorry for taking my frustrations out on you. You of all people didn't deserve it. I was never angry with you. I acted like a... what was it you called me that one time?”

She allowed herself a quiet laugh recalling the memory. “A diva.”

“Yes,” he chuckled before resuming a more serious tone. “I’m sorry for being guarded earlier. It’s not my intention to shut you out, Soe. It’s just what I’ve been used to. It’s not an excuse, but after Louise left, I took care of myself. I didn’t want to rely on anyone for anything. No expectations, no disappointment. I guess it’s a hard habit to break after twenty-five years.”

Taking his hand, she weaved her fingers with his and smiled up at him. “If you show me your battle scars, I’ll show you mine.” Then speaking softly, “You know you can trust me, right?”

“I know. And, I do. I promise I’ll be better. You deserve better," he answered.

Sawyer squeezed their joined hands. She was about to say something but stopped herself when she felt him swallow hard and sniff a couple times. Craning her neck back, she saw Ethan holding back tears. “Hey,” she said, waiting for him to turn and look at her, “what is it?”

As the emotional toll of the day finally caught up with him, Ethan exhaled deeply trying to keep composed. “This war that wages within me… you’ve seen the wreckage… and somehow you still manage to see the good parts too,” he quickly swept away a tear that threatened to fall from the corner of his eye. “It just overwhelms me the way you care… and after all that I’ve put you through, that you haven’t given up on me yet.”

With tears rolling down her own cheeks again, Sawyer replied, “I can say the same about you. I mean I’m already a pain in the ass, but since the attack I’ve been a complete mess. I’ve been clingy and needy because you make me feel so safe, and the only times I feel at peace are when you’re near. And I worry all the time that I’ve become this huge burden…” her voice cracked, “and that might make you go AWOL again.”

Ethan shook his head in disagreement. “Please don’t worry about such things, Soe. You are not a burden.” He took the sides of her face into his hands. “Listen, you and I both know I’ll probably do and say stupid things in the future that I’ll have to apologize for, but I promise you, I will never intentionally hurt you like that again.”

“And I can’t promise that things won’t be hard, or that we will always agree, or be on the same page. But, Ethan, I can promise that as long as you are trying, I’m staying.” Seeing the relief in his eyes, she offered him a loving smile. “So what do you say? Seal these promises with a kiss?”

Ethan wasted no time bringing her lips to his.

“Can I take you home? To my place that it is.”

“I’d like that.”

“Before we go, I need to track a couple people down and extend some peace offerings.”

“Okay.”

“If you don’t want to be alone, I can ask Naveen to come back. Or call Sienna?”

“Naveen, if he’s available. Tell him that I need for him to come and spill the tea.”

“O-kay,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“He’ll understand.”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart@ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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mitskook · 4 months

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a very mitskook 2023 wrap-up

hi everyone

so i didn't write very much in 2023, that much is apparent. now i'm not gonna sit here act like that's a massive loss considering the vast amount of extremely talented writers that produced wonderful work this year, but i am still disappointed in myself from, i guess, a labour of love perspective. i look at the work i have contributed to the fandom over the years and i still have more i want to add, more stories i want to tell (trust me the wip folder makes me weep too).

but every time i wanted to write, the idea of making a love story made me so miserable i had to scrub it from my head. and worse, when i pushed past that obvious discomfort, the love in those stories soured into resentment, rage, and a cruelty i couldn't justify (to this audience at least). particularly with tsdverse, this next installment is about m'boys really grappling with conflicts that have no easy answers (if they have answers at all) and man am i so fucking glad i wrote that flashforward with heejin to keep a north star on where they would end up because if i hadn't, i would've completely shattered them in a misdirected fireball of righteous grief. im glad i had that to hold on to bc i haven't had much else.

my 2023 has been. uh. trying amongst the good stuff (and i promise there was some good stuff) but not this. my mum had a heart attack, i was fired for not coming back to work straight after her surgery, and i was couch surfing and unemployed for long enough i felt like i'd wrecked my life forever. and, of course, i was mourning my relationship that ended at the end of last year, and to be honest i'm still not done with that. that's the absolute joy and misery of tying your heart to someone you're hoping will be around forever: your eyes don't see anything the same anymore, certain songs that come on shuffle make you break down on the tube, you realise huge swathes of your social media presence, including ao3, were built for one person and it wasn't you, and now? all those things are monuments to the emptiness you feel every time you remember they're not in your life anymore.

to be extremely clear, i'm not blaming my ex for these feelings, and if anyone harasses them on my behalf i will personally hunt you down and gut you with a knitting needle, but in missing them as much as i do i realised how inextricable they were from my writing process. i mostly wrote fic to make them happy, to hear their praise and notes and excitement to read the rest, and that was unfair on everyone; me, them, and you (if you look forward to my work, i don't wanna presume lmao). that's too much pressure to put on someone who just wasn't interested in bangtan rpf anymore, and that's normal, it's okay to move on from that, but it meant even before the breakup i didn't know who i was doing it for anymore. that level of directionlessness (<- not a word but whatever) gummed up those creative gears until they had no choice but to stop.

anyway to maybe cap this pity party a bit, i want to start sharing my writing more on here, and i won't wait for people to clamour to let me know that that's wanted bc again, i need to start rebuilding my confidence in my writing and feeling out where i fit into this community after basically silently moping around for a full year. i want to sincerely thank everyone who's ever read my work. i won't promise to do anything but my best, and in the meantime i'll give all the snippets to you.

lots of love

zeeb "hyperlight" mitskook

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trainsinanime · 2 months

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WIP reblog game

I got tagged by @chaos-has-theories and @into-september. Sorry for the delay in doing this, I just forgot about it.

If you're like me and you have a million WIPs and are anxious about updating them, play this game!

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

Let's start with the stories. So, I don't trust myself with multi-chapter stories, it takes me forever to write one-shots already, so (almost) none of these are out yet. You can read the ones that are out over here.

Operation Multifail. Three-chapter story where Marinette tries to convince Chat Noir to stop thinking about Multimouse by fighting as Multimouse, badly, on purpose, so he'll think she's incompetent. It doesn't quite work out.

Kwamidaddy Adrien. Assumes Marinette is the guardian. For reasons, Chat Noir has to take the Kwamis for a while. They all promised not to tell him anything about her private life. Shouldn't be a problem, right? This one may also end up being like three chapters

Chlogami Sabrina's Wedding. I think I posted a rough outline for chapter one here: It's Sabrina's wedding, and drunk Chloé confides in also-drunk Kagami about her complicated relationship to Sabrina, how she's happy for her but also jealous but also knows that because of their baggage, it could never work, while Kagami also has feelings about Adrien's and Marinette's upcoming wedding. I have like half a first draft of a first chapter here and absolutely no clue where this might go next.

Wings AU - Learning to Land. So there's a wings AU concept for Miraculous that keeps coming up every now and then. A bit too angsty for me, but when I first heard it, I thought it was a fun idea to talk about aerodynamics and world building in that context, specifically where Marinette teaches sheltered Adrien how to fly.

Plagg Interview. Now we're deep in the dregs, I picked a folder at random. Alya publishes interviews with someone close to Chat Noir's thinking. That someone: Plagg, who has been bribed with cheese. Marinette is not happy, but she can't say anything because Alya can't learn she's Ladybug. Yeah, this one's been sitting in my folder for a while. As have the others. Probably a one-shot.

Stuff I'm looking forward to in each fic:

The whole thing is based around big action set pieces. Three big Akuma fights, one in each chapter, which Marinette tries to fail at in different ways, and fails to fail, so to speak. I have no idea how to write these well, but I think that can be fun. Super-unpopular opinion: Fanfiction has way too much angst and romance and not enough action, and I'm definitely part of the problem myself.

Adrien interacting with the Kwamis who imprint on him as their father should be really adorable. As should the Kwamis trying their best to get Adrien and Marinette to marry (without revealing too much (they will reveal too much)).

Writing the banter between Chloé and Kagami is fun. I want to write more of it. I can definitely see someone taking that concept and turning it into, for lack of a better word, "normal long fic"; you know, thirty chapters, misunderstanding, they take a trip for a few chapters and return, so on and so forth. I'm not doing that, I don't have the work ethic and it's not actually my favourite genre of fanfic anyway. But what else could this story be? Figuring that out is an interesting challenge.

Aerodynamics! Learning to land! How do you learn to fly in a Wings AU? What does "rich kids aren't allowed to fly" mean for the world building? I don't have a story here at all but I do like the setting.

Plagg and Alya scheming together should be gold. Plagg trying to barter with a Marinette who can't reveal she's the Guardian has also a lot of comedic potential. Plagg trying to teach both of them how much Adrien needs them could be very emotional. Just Plagg.

Also, do you have any title ideas for any of these? I think Operation Multifail is good, the rest are just literally the file names I chose when I started with these projects.

I am tagging, very much at random, @sizzleissues, @pauliestorylover, @oblivionhold, @wrw47, @precious-notes, @kyuunonana, @aidanchaser, @aanabear2803, @valtionrautatiet-official and @cosmiccarrotcake. The requirement for inclusion was "I found you in my activity view in the past three months", so if you don't know what fanfic is, or don't feel like doing this, do feel free to ignore this.

#in retrospect i could have included some non-ml ones as well #but i'm not going back and changing this now

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skz317cb97 · 2 years

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The Final Straw

Stray Kids x afab reader (a little Bang Chan x reader)

Word count: 4400+

A/N: This has been sitting in my WIP folder forever so I finally polished, and finished it! I hope you all like it!

Summery: What happens when enough is enough and you finally have to tell the boys what's been happening in your relationship.

Warnings: Strong language/cursing, violence, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of injuries, self loathing/self doubt. (If any of these things can be triggering please do not read and if I missed anything PLEASE let me know!)

That was it. The last straw. This was the last time you were calling Lee Minho to come get you because your boyfriend Lance, correction, ex-boyfriend Lance’s temper got out of control. It was the last time you were letting him put his hands on you. Every time before you called Minho to come get you, you would beg him not to make a big deal out of it and to not tell the other guys. Especially not Chan who was wildly protective of you. It wasn’t going to be that easy this time. All the other times you were able to placate Minho with excuses. ‘It was just an argument’ ‘he was getting loud’ ‘he was saying nasty things so I just wanted to leave.’ The truth was he had slowly been getting more physical with you for a while now and for whatever reason when he apologized you believed him, you would accept it and go back. Every time he said it would never happen again you would actually believe him but you told yourself after this time it would really never happen again. You weren’t listening to his empty apologies and excuses anymore. You were worried about when Minho got there though. Usually, everything was easy enough to hide. Long sleeves that covered bruises on your wrists and arms left by too tight a grip or a little color corrector for a bruise by your eye or on your cheek when he slapped you. No one would know the difference. You had gotten quite good at hiding it. The guys would never know, you made sure of that. Not this time though. This time your bottom lip was split. It was swollen and from the top of the fullest part of your lip to almost the dip in your chin was a cut. Your eye was turning a sickly greenish yellow, sure to be a black eye later and on the opposite side of your face was a bruise and a cut on your cheek. The black eye and cuts had come from your ex’s ring when he decided an open-handed slap just wouldn’t cut it this time. So there was no hiding it. You were waiting in the lobby with your hood pulled up and a bag of clothes when Minho pulled up. He put the car in park and got out to grab your bag for you. You tried to keep your head down, your hood pulled tight. You tried to keep him from seeing your face but when he got a good look at you Minho’s face went ridged. He tossed your bag in the back seat, turned on his heels and headed towards the building door. You ran to him with tears in your eyes and grabbed his arm pleading with him.

“No Minho! Don’t! Please let’s just go!” Minho looked at you. He wanted nothing more than to give Lance a taste of his own medicine but you looked exhausted and scared. Unwilling to be the one to further the distress you were already in he nodded and turned back towards the car. Minho opened your door and helped you in before getting in the driver’s side and heading towards the dorm. The car ride was quiet for the most part aside from the radio playing softly. Minho would steal a glance over at you from time to time but your eyes were closed and you were appreciating the feeling of the cool window against the bruise on the side of your face. When you opened your eyes again you realized how close you were to the dorm and started to get antsy. As if he could read your mind Minho spoke up.

“The rest of the guys are at the gym and the studio. I was the only one off for a doctor’s appointment today so don’t worry about getting bombarded.” You let out a sigh of relief knowing you didn’t have to walk into a room full of men that, while they would have your best interest at heart, would want answers as to why you looked the way you did. Answers you weren’t sure you could give, that you weren’t sure you had.

“Thanks Minho.” He quirked his eyebrow at you as he pulled into a parking spot.

“For what?” You leaned over and hugged him tightly once the car was stopped. He hugged you back.

“For always knowing what I need even when I don’t.” Minho pulled back and gave you a tense smile.

“Well, if I always knew I’d have seen what was going on before now. I should have.” You shook your head as you felt guilt creeping up on you for keeping your friends in the dark about what had been going on with you.

“No Minho you couldn’t have. I was foolish and made sure of that.” Minho looked at you seriously.

“The only fool in this situation is Lance.” He said bitterly.

“You’re like my little sister Y/N. I’ll always do what I can to protect you. Right now, I don’t want you to worry about explanations, not for me and not for the guys. I know they can be a lot at the best of times let alone in a stressful situation and I don’t want you to worry about THAT right now. Let’s just get you up to the dorm and settled. We can worry about what to tell the guys after.” Minho grabbed your bag as you got out of the car and you both made your way up to the dorm. When you walked through the door your heart plunged to your stomach. You saw very familiar shoes by the door. Someone was home already.

“Minho? Is that you man?” CHAN. You really weren’t ready for this. You looked at Minho with pleading eyes but he wasn’t sure how to help in this situation. There would be no getting you past Chan to the spare room without him noticing you AND the way you looked. Before you both could even try and think of any way to keep Chan from realizing you were there, he rounded the corner and saw you.

“Oh! Hey Y/N I didn’t know you were…” Chan’s words stopped short when he saw the cuts and bruises on your face.

“Oh my god! What happened?!” He walked towards you his hands outstretched. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes already. How were you going to explain how stupid you’ve been for allowing this to happen? Before you could try and get words to form Minho’s hand came up to the small of your back and gave you a gentle nudge to walk on past Chan.

“Go get settled Y/N. I’ll make some ramen while you do.” You listened to Minho and took the opportunity to do just that. You walked past Chan your eyes downcast as you did. Chan’s hands fell back to his sides and you felt his eyes follow you, worry and confusion etched on his face. While you unpacked the few things you brought in the spare room Minho started grabbing a pan and filling it with water to boil as Chan followed him into the kitchen.

“What the hell is going on Minho?” Chan’s voice was firm but Minho could hear the worry he was trying to hide. Minho shook his head.

“You need to give her a minute Hyung. I didn’t know you were home already and she’s not prepared to get into it just yet.”

“Get into what? What happened? Why can’t you just tell me?” Minho gave Chan a serious look.

“Because I don't even know the whole story and it’s not my place Hyung. Please be patient. When are the other guys due back?” Chan let out a huff of air frustrated with Minho’s vague answers.

“Maybe an hour or so I guess. Why?”

“Because you know as well as I do they’re gonna be worse than you when they see she’s here and the state she’s in. I want to make sure she’s as ready for that as she can be before they get here.” Chan nodded. He could definitely understand that. He grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer and headed towards the spare room you were currently in as Minho continued to start your ramen.

“Chan Hyung!” Chan turned and Minho looked at him seriously.

“Don’t pry, give her time.” Chan shook his head in understanding and went on. When he got to your door he knocked gently.

“Y/N? I have an ice pack. May I come in?” You opened the door and allowed Chan to enter. He handed you the ice pack and you turned away from him as you put it against your bruised eye.

“Thank you.” Your voice was small and you wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Chan had never seen you like this. You were always smiling and confident, laughing. It tore him apart inside seeing you like this and as much as he wanted to ask questions Minho’s voice echoed in his head. ‘Don’t pry’ ‘give her time’.

“You’re welcome. Minho is starting the water for your noodles now. Why don’t you get showered and into something comfy before the guys come home and use up all the hot water?” You nodded. No words and still unable to bring yourself to look Chan in the eyes. You set out a big t shirt and some sweat pants before heading towards the bathroom. Icepack still pressed against your face and Chan made his way back out to the kitchen. You were still in the shower when the rest of the guys came piling in the dorm about thirty minutes later.

“Who’s in the shower Hyung?” Hyunjin asked as he flopped into the nearest chair. Chan and Minho looked at each other and Minho answered.

“Y/N.” Felix squealed in excitement.

“Oh! Yay! Are we having a movie night?!” Chan shook his head no.

“I don’t think so Felix.” Felix’s face fell into a pout. He loved movie nights with you, they all did. If you weren’t there for a movie night then why? When you came out of the bathroom you had one towel wrapped around your hair, another around your body, steam following you out. You looked up and saw all eight of the guys standing there looking at you. The six that had not yet seen you saw your face, hair tucked away and nothing to block any of the cuts and bruises. All their faces fell with concern. Not a single one was able to say anything before you turned and rushed to your room. Tears falling from your eyes as quickly as they welled up. You weren’t ready. Not yet. You hadn’t even had a chance to tell Minho what happened. You still couldn’t look Chan in the face. Now they were all there looking at you with those eyes. Those ‘poor thing’ eyes and they didn’t even know what happened yet. How were you going to do this? You heard a light tapping at your door. You sniffled getting ready to tell who ever it was to please go away.

“It’s me. I have your ramen.” It was Minho with your soup. You hid behind the door and opened it letting him in. When he saw your tears, he sat your ramen on the side table and pulled you in for a hug.

“Take your time. Eat your food but then I think you should come out and that we all should discuss what happened today. When you’re ready. I really think it will help if you get it all off your chest.” You nodded into Minho’s chest and wiped your eyes. When he left you could hear him and Chan out in the living room with the other guys.

“Look I know you all have questions. Trust me, I have the same questions but bombarding her before she’s had a chance to collect herself isn’t going to help.” Minho continued what Chan was saying.

“We only got here a bit before you guys came home so give her a moment. You all stink. Take your showers make some food and give her some time.” Everyone listened and did what Minho told them to do including you. You took your time. You got dressed, ate, dried your hair, and thought long and hard about exactly what you were going to say. You tried to not to let thoughts of how disappointed they all would be, disappointed for you to allow something like this to happen, to cloud your judgement. You tried to tell yourself they loved you and wouldn’t possibly blame you but you blamed yourself so it was hard to not imagine those scenarios. When your noodles were gone and you finally heard the shower stop and things start to settle in the dorm you decided it was now or never. You mustered up all the strength and courage you had and left your room for the first time since the guys had gotten home. When you walked out into the living room all the guys were sitting together quietly talking about their days. Chan noticed you first. You finally forced yourself to look at him and he gave you one of his tight-lipped smiles and patted the empty spot between him and Minho on the couch. You rushed over and nuzzled into his side, holding onto his arm, burying your face into his shoulder. Minho grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over your shoulders. You sat there a moment with your face hidden by Chan wondering where to start. When you looked up you saw everyone’s eyes on you which you were more prepared for this time. You took a deep breath.

“Okay…. I don’t know how to go about saying this or where to start.” Chan grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours giving it a reassuring squeeze. You could feel the tears pricking your eyes already and you hadn’t even gotten into anything that had happened yet. You looked down at Chan’s hand laced with yours and started picking at the cuticles of his fingernails nervously. Minho wrapped his arm around your shoulder trying to reassure you that you were safe to speak here.

“Lance…he…” You didn’t think the room could get any quieter than it already was but all the breath seemed to stop as soon as you uttered Lance’s name. The air got thicker as everyone was certain of the next words you were about to say.

“We’ve been fighting a lot for a while now, todays was especially bad. He was calling me names and screaming, throwing things, breaking things. It all escalated so quickly and before I knew what was happening, he had me pinned down and…” The words were coming out so fast and you sobbed when you went to take a breath in. You felt Chan tense next to you. He was using all his will power to keep himself in control, to stay calm for you, when all he wanted to do was walk out of that dorm, find Lance, and beat him to death. Instead, he leaned over, planted a kiss on top of your head, and squeezed you tighter. You knew they all knew what you were trying to say but you still couldn’t bring yourself to say the words ‘Lance hit me.’ You cried harder and buried your face in Chan’s hoodie again. Felix, sitting on the floor directly in front of you, grabbed your foot and started rubbing it, skin ship the only thing he could think to offer to try and make you feel some kind of comfort. Hyunjin, also sitting on the floor, scooched closer and rested his head against your other leg as Minho rubbed circles softly on your back trying to calm you. Changbin was sitting in a chair across the way fuming, anger just radiating off of him. He was always so reserved with his emotions, especially his anger, but now he had pure hate boiling inside him. Hyunjin and Jisung both were fighting to stop the tears in their eyes, unable to understand how anyone could do something like that to you. Seungmin, always a level headed person, was the one to speak up first.

“What’s important is that once things got physical you got yourself out of there Y/N.” Minho’s eyes met Seungmin’s. He had no way of knowing for sure, you hadn’t told him otherwise, but Minho had a good idea from all the other times you had called him that this was not the only time. He shook his head at Seungmin. When the realization hit Seungmin he bit his tongue but the words already hung in the air.

“Unfortunately, Seungmin I wasn’t that smart. Today was not the first time.” Just like that Minho’s fears were confirmed. Everyone’s hearts sank. How could they not have seen it? How could this be going on under all their noses and not one of them notice? Chan was beating himself up inside of course. He was supposed to protect you and he hadn't. He felt awful. Then your intrusive thoughts started coming out like vomit. You couldn’t stop the words that were forming in your head from coming out of your mouth.

“He kept saying it would never happen again and I believed him! How could I be so stupid?!! How could I believe someone that would do something like this to me?!!!” Your voice was getting louder and louder but you were only yelling at yourself.

“Maybe I deserved it if I couldn’t see what was really happening! I deserved it for believing such an obvious lie!”

“NO!” Changbin who had been completely silent in his chair up until that point yelled as he stood from his seat fuming.

“No! You did not deserve that! Don’t ever say that!” He wasn’t trying to yell AT you. He just wanted you to stop saying such awful things about yourself. To stop saying such horrible, untrue things. You froze for a moment, in shock by his outburst. Changbin was always so sweet and soft spoken with you. You couldn’t recall anytime he’d ever raised his voice at you so when you heard him shout it broke the last bit of the damn that had been holding you together. You clung to Chan again and utterly broke down as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. Chan shot Changbin a look and Changbin stood there, he instantly regretted raising his voice at you. He wasn’t mad at you of course. He was pissed at Lance and upset you spoke so poorly of yourself when they all cared so much for you.

“Y/N… I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” Chan put up a hand and shook his head as if to say ‘it’s okay’. He knew better than anyone what Changbin was feeling, Minho too. They both wanted nothing more than to do to Lance what he’d done to you but they understood at this point it would do no good. It would help nothing; it especially wouldn’t help you.

“I think it’s best we all take a moment and cool down.” Minho suggested. As soon as he did Changbin made a b line out the door of the dorm with Minho hot on his heels. The others got up and started cleaning up the kitchen from dinner. Chan sat on the couch with you, holding you until you thought you couldn’t possibly cry anymore. When the tears finally stopped you stayed in his arms taking deep breaths trying to even out your breathing being somewhat soothed by the sweet smell of his cologne.

“You know Changbin didn’t mean it. Yelling at you I mean.” You shook your head. You knew.

“I know. I also know I really didn’t deserve that. Just sometimes my mind tricks me into thinking that there was something I did wrong, something I could have done to achieve a different outcome but I know that’s not true really. It was Lance, not me.” Chan shook his head in agreement to that as he squeezed you closer to him. Just then Minho burst back through the front door.

“Hyung! We have a problem!” Chan moved you aside quickly and got up from the couch to meet Minho by the door. He was out of breath trying to keep his voice down not to panic you while trying to get words to come out.

“Changbin... we went outside to get some air and… Lance! He showed up looking for Y/N!” Chan looked over his shoulder at you. He saw your face, you heard. You shook as you made yourself as small as possible on the couch, hiding yourself in the blanket Minho had put on you before.

“Hyung!” Chan’s attention flew back to Minho and he continued.

“Lance started saying horrible things about how he knew he’d find Y/N here. That he knows she’s sleeping with one or all of us. He was calling her terrible names and Changbin.... he attacked him. He is down there beating the shit out of him right now Hyung! I couldn’t get him off him alone! I need your help!” Chan slid shoes on quickly and pointed at Han.

“Jisung go make sure Y/N is alright! All of you stay here! We’ll be right back!” Chan and Minho rushed out the door and down to the bottom floor. When they got out to the street, they saw Lance hunched down on the ground and Changbin kicking him in the ribs.

“How the fuck. Could you. Put your hands. On Y/N like that! You. Piece. Of shit!” His words were punctuated with kicks in between.

“Someone. As good. As her!!!” Changbin climbed on top of Lance and started punching at his arms he had up trying to block his face. Chan grabbed one of Changbin’s arms and Minho grabbed the other. It took all their strength to pull him off Lance. Changbin was practically frothing at the mouth.

“If you ever show your face, if you even so much as breath her name! I will fucking kill you!” Lance stood up gasping for air, face bloody. He opened his mouth about to say something again. Chan was ready to square up this time and Minho interrupted Lance before he could speak.

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t say whatever it is you’re thinking of saying and just leave. If I couldn’t stop Changbin alone you think I can stop both of them?�� Lance looked at Chan and Changbin who both looked ready to go blow for blow with him. He scowled, spit blood on the curb and walked away without another word as Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin rushed out the building doors.

“Everyone! Upstairs NOW!” Chan yelled at the others as he tried to calm himself back down and help Minho practically drag Changbin inside.

Back in the dorm Jisung rocked you, petting your hair and cooing in your ear telling you everything was gonna be okay. That Chan and Minho were handling it and that Changbin was gonna be alright. Anything to get you to try and calm down. Truthfully you were terrified that Lance would hurt them, get in somehow and hurt you again too. NONE of the guys would ever allow that but you weren’t thinking clearly in the moment. When the door burst open Hyunjin jumped and it made you almost leap out of your skin and Jisung’s arms. When you realized it was the maknaes you only had one question.

“Where’s Changbin… Chan… Minho?” Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin looked around.

“They were just behind us a minute ago.” Your mind went into over drive. Were they hurt? Did Lance do something after the others had come back up? You clutched on to Jisung’s shirt in a panic.

“Sungie please! Make sure they’re alright!” Jisung nodded and hurried from the couch out the front door almost running directly into the other three men. Chan was trying to get Changbin to get a grip before they went back into the apartment.

“Get a hold of yourself Binnie! Going in there like this isn’t going to help!”

“He’s right Changbin.” Jisung agreed.

“You have to get a hold of yourself now. She’s in there in a panic and we need you to calm yourself and go let her know you’re okay. Do you hear me Binnie?! She needs us right now!” Changbin nodded and took some deep breaths. His breathing had evened out but his hands were still shaking when the four of them finally went back into the apartment. Felix and Jeongin had you in their arms taking over where Jisung had been before rushing out to check on the eldest of the group. When you looked up and saw Changbin you leaped from the couch and ran towards him throwing your arms around his neck and sobbing into his chest. He pulled you tightly against him.

“It’s okay Y/N, I’m okay. I’m so so sorry if I scared you.” You shook your head; he could never scare you.

“I was scared FOR you Binnie never OF you. NEVER of you! Are you okay?” Changbin melted right there unable to control his own tears any longer. Here you were, after all you’d been through and him making a difficult situation worse with his behavior and you were asking HIM if he’s okay. It just made it that much harder to understand how anyone could ever hurt you like that. You all talked a while longer and once everyone calmed down exhaustion from the day hit. Chan decided it was time to call it and for you all to try to get a good night’s rest. As you all broke off to go to your respective rooms you stopped Chan at your door.

“Chan…..” You were nervous to ask him your question.

“Yea Y/N? What is it? Do you need anything?” He asked voice still full of concern.

“Well… would you… would you lay with me? Just until I fall asleep? You don’t have to but…” Chan smiled and cut you off.

@jquellen27

“Of course I will baby girl. Anything for you.” Chan followed you into the spare room you were staying in. You both climbed into the bed and curled up under the blankets. Your back against Chan’s chest, his arms securely around you. You weren’t sure what was next or what this new beginning in your life had in store for you but what ever happened you knew you could get through it with the love and support of your boys. Knowing that, you were able to relax into Chan and fall asleep. More at peace than you had been in a long time.

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

#potential triggers #domestic abuse #violence #skz #stray kids #bang chan #lee know #hyunjin #changbin #jeongin #yongbok felix #jisung #seungmin #skz fan fic #stray kids fan fic #angst

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vanillahigh00 · 4 months

Text

Fic Writer Interview

Thank you for tagging me @hgejfmw-hgejhsf! and @stereopticons! 💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

371,166 (I have a couple really long ones)

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I Want Candy [firstprince, 4.5k, T]

I'll Always Catch Your Glance [David/Patrick 13.5k, M]

You're So Hot That I Melted [David/Patrick 4k, G]

The Ocean Brought Me To You [David/Patrick 39k, M]

If You Asked Me To [David/Patrick 11k, E]

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

100%... may just take me a bit of time.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

TBD.... No comment...

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Hmm... subject to change this year if I can some of the contents of my WIP folder, but for now I will leave you with because D and P don't start off on friendly terms... I'd Do It All For You [David and Patrick 75k, E]

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not opposed, but an idea to do so hasn't crossed my mind.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I have not luckily.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't do it often. I find it very challenging to make sure body parts are doing what they should be doing and what I'm picturing in my head is translating on paper. I wouldn't say I have a kind of smut I've written? If someone has another thought on this, I'm interested in the answer.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be so cool!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! The Purrrrrfect Gift with @edie4711

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

David/Patrick was my first love, but firstprince is trying to worm their way in.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Never say never. Until I'm 6 feet under there's always a chance... Gee that sounded dark.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I can put the ideas together... brainstorm ideas...

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Word choice and confidence.

I will sit there and debate about word choice. I tend to tell versus show I'm working on improving this, but I drive myself crazy reformulating sentences to show versus tell.

I will then sit there anxious once I hit the submit button.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Kind of terrifies me that I'll translate incorrectly.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Schitt's Creek

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I haven't been inspired to write for a new ship.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Well... asking me to pick a fic is like asking me to pick my favorite child and as hard as my kiddos try to get me to claim them as my favorite, I tell them over and over that I will never do that. lol.

So...here's a variety of fics instead that I haven't already mentioned:

The Way He Looked Was Way Beyond Compare [David/Patrick 4k, G] High School Themed. One of my favorite tropes to write.

He's Already Family [David/Patrick 1800, G] D and P's relationship from Clint's POV. Never enough Clint and Marcy Brewer in fic.

Just To Be With You [David/Patrick 5k, T] David and Patrick just want to be alone, but Ray loves to chat.

Lucky To Linger In Your Life [David/Patrick 10k, M] Patrick takes David home for Marcy's birthday before they start dating.

Tagging the following who likely already did this and if you did, I'm sorry?

@hippolotamus @apothecarose @chelle-68 @dinnfameron @demora00 @designatedgrape @hullomoon @indestructibleheart @jettestar @jesuisici33 @leofdaeg-sand @lizzie-bennetdarcy @missgeevious @mudbloodpotter05 @ohhhelloyou @obsessedwithdavrick @statueinthestonetoo @themelancholyvegetable @thinkof-england @this-is-bwr @sspaz1000 @seadeepy @trueillusion82 @vamprayne @wi22iou

#sc fanfic #rwrb fanfic #fic interview #get to know vanilla

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punch-love · 2 months

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4, 11 (specifically for the lokius fic), 18, 30, 35, 43

4. Longest period of time it's taken you to write one fic?

the golden dildo took me six months, the first three to right the second half, and the last three because the first half horrified me so much I didn't actually want to complete the project. I finally finished it in a few hours while house sitting, which is how a lot of my long wips end up getting completed, honestly.

11. Share a favourite comment a reader has left you.

@ceeceetv left me an absolutely fantastic one today on the titular scene in the latest chapter. I've complimented their commenting style before but getting a comment from them is like getting feedback from a college writing professor who really noticed your use of metaphor.

I actually spent a lot of today and yesterday going back and forth about whether me including knives as a narrative foil/sex thing had actually been the move because no one had commented on that particular element of the chapter. I was starting to think "this audience probably isn't actually interested in that" and was kicking myself a little for including it so to have them do such a through and absolute breakdown of that specific scene and how much they enjoyed it ! incredibly validating. I felt very seen.

18. What's your most used additional tag?

that's a good question, probably uh, humiliation kink. and honestly, considering my wip folder that's not stopping any time soon.

30. What do you struggle with most when writing?

I enjoy editing a lot more than I enjoy writing, so there are a lot of times when I just stop the hard part and get overly involved with the tweaking process long before I even have enough of a work to actually tweak. I would much rather polish than create, and that's something that gets me in trouble sometimes.

35. What's your fic with the saddest ending?

the golden dildo 100% because it doesn't end in divorce and instead the cycle repeats and resets.

43. What keeps you motivated when working on a long project?

I always start a long-project with a "scene" in mind that happens near the end that I'm slowly dragging myself toward, chapter by chapter, until I get to write it. I have one for every long project, and sometimes they are very literally the only reason I keep pushing forward on a project.

#mailbox #ask game #thanks for asking for comments specifically on lokius you're very thoughtful per usual #frl though I was like the lokius fandom is a little too soft for my weird knife stuff :((((( they don't care about the knives #but when cc was like the knife is a metaphor ! also hot ! I was like oh okay I'm okay the knives are staying #thanks again and as always for being so good at choosing questions I enjoy answering!

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tatiejosie · 6 months

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Bella/Mandrake fic

It was my first Earwig fanfiction!!! It's been sitting in my WIP folder for a long time and I kinda don't know if I'll actually finish it one day. It's rough around the edges and probably a little cheesy, if not downright bad.

Mandrake joins Bella for some tea time, it's a surprisingly comfortable moment, Bella falls asleep, wakes up to Mandrake looking at her. Respectfully, of course. Bella is still horrified.

The sun poured generously in the room, filling it with the warmth of a homely haze, numbing the sounds of the ticking clock and occasional passing car. Had it not been for the protection hex of the house and its surroundings - keeping the place safe from any unwanted spells - the comfort of this afternoon break would almost feel... foreign to the witch. After all, it really was some mundane tea time. And the large, fuzzy cushions of the sofa were so incredibly inviting.

Bella allowed herself to bask in the comfort of her surroundings, enjoying the serendipitous presence of the demon. Quite oblivious to his wandering gaze. Having been observant of his company for a moment, Mandrake noticed that the witch appeared to be dozy. Sinking gradually into the sofa, her voice growing weaker. She did seem to try and fight it off at first, but sleep was decidedly stronger than humans. Their exchanges got slower and scarcer, and the demon allowed the conversation to fade off to a comfortable silence. Mandrake said nothing as the witch drifted off to sleep. Bella eventually plopped herself to the side. He watched quietly as she nudged her face into the cushions, exposing her neck, several strands of blue curls falling over her face.

It might have been three thirty when Bella opened her eyes again. Slowly emerging from an impromptu, but much-needed afternoon nap, she stretched out and sighed heavily, her eyes trying to adapt to the brutal rays of sunshine flashing directly onto her. It wasn’t long until the witch realised that Mandrake was still resting quietly on the end of the sofa. He had seemingly been scrutinising her since she had fallen asleep.

Now, she was used to the man’s lack of knowledge on general social cues. At this point, it was just part of who he was as a person, and the witch was hardly taken aback by the occasional odd gesture.

She had to admit, though - at this moment, Mandrake staring at her felt uncomfortable. She couldn’t quite pinpoint any precise reason, she just wasn’t okay with him staring at her. Not that much. Maybe not that close.

In her book though, discomfort was to be played off of the situation.

“My, my,” she said as she yawned lazily. “... What is it that you’re looking at, Mandrake?”

Mandrake didn’t budge; but one of his ears flicked in surprise. “Does it bother you?” he asked in his usual monotonous tone. Bella gave him an amused, tired smile. “Don’t care much, to be honest…” she kind of lied as she shifted to her side. She propped up her head on her folded arm, and nudged a pillow in-between. “That has to be a sorry kind of sight, though,” she muttered under her breath.

Bella’s voice was still hoarse from the sleepiness, but there was a hint of melancholy in her tone. The demon knew her well enough to detect when she was being facetious, but he wasn’t sure what she was referring to. Or if the “sorry kind of sight” was supposed to be herself.

Bella smiled bitterly as she pressed her face further into the pillow, closing her eyes. Mandrake was certainly not going to coddle her about whatever insecurities she had. Not that she needed any of that. She was just fine, hiding herself in the comfort of the fluffy cushion.

“I find that…” Mandrake took the time to choose the right words, “... I don’t get to look at you a lot. At least… not as often as I should.” … Could. Should have. Bloody hell. The witch turned to him, somewhat confused. "... Whaddya mean?" “... I would like to look at you more often,” the demon replied, somewhat sheepishly.

Bella’s eyes widened; a scorching wave of embarrassment washed over her, she immediately stiffened and whipped her head away from the demon. The witch couldn’t help but feel like some sort of freak show - there was no way that Mandrake would have anything interesting to look at. Not in a positive light. Bella’s appearance had certainly been different in the past, and she really wanted to believe that she couldn't care less about looks… and yet, her heart actually stung when she imagined that, perhaps, Mandrake was just contemplating the extent of her appeal’s degradation. Maybe he did not find her as pretty as she might have been, back in the days.

She huffed. “There’s nothin’ to see.”

Mandrake did not reply right away, instead taking the time to look at this newly uncovered side. Bella had turned her back to him again. Her blue curls puffed up as she sighed. The demon’s gaze followed the direction of each hectic lock. He noted the shorter curls that flourished her neck. A handful of bright blue arabesques ornated her exposed shoulders and back - just a few inches of pale skin that she had uncovered at some point in her sleep, as her body temperature might have increased uncomfortably. The strap of her bra sliced into her plump skin, accentuated the sharp curve of her trapezius muscle. There was so much to take in.

The woman’s figure was a bundle of soft curves and golden spirals scything into one another, shaped by the contrast of plump, docile flesh imprisoned in layers of snug elastane and tight straps.

Bella curled up on the sofa in a nervous attempt to retreat from the demon’s space. She made sure to avoid his gaze as she fixed herself up, readjusting the sleeve of her dress, pulling her woolly cardigan over her shoulders, pretending that her face wasn’t on fire. Somehow, he seemed to finally sense her discomfort. Was she ashamed of herself for falling asleep in his company? Was he doing something inappropriate? He did recall that staring was sometimes perceived as rude. But he didn’t think he was staring inappropriately. And Bella was not a stranger.

“Do you dislike that I am looking at you?” he asked, just to be sure. After all, Bella never told him that she disliked it when he looked at her.

#look. im not a native english speaker #im begging for indulgence at this point #earwig and the witch #ghibli #.fic

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