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scott-mccall-the-hot-girl · 3 years

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my ultimate guide to thiam fic !!

( as a new teen wolf stan )

the classic post war, long ass (multi chapter) fic !!with great development that genuinely made me laugh out loud, they have the best friendship in this & i love it very much. ( like theo teaches liam to drive and i just *happy sobs* ) a fundamental in thiam fanfiction !! all stans have probably already read it but if you haven’t this is in fact a threat ,, go show this vv iconic story some love !!

Airplanes - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: After the Anuk-ite and the hunters are dealt with Liam needs a break. Cue Theo and a road trip that Liam should know better than to think will be peaceful.

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, 43/43 Chapters, Words: 236,875 (236k)

okay okay so this one is also post 6B !! but ,, now we introduce fighting monroe & the hunters again ,, so we get the boys & a new mission !! so if you like an intresting plot 11/10 would recommend !! just to be clear this ISN’T complete ,, if that turns you off i understand but definitely give this one a read !! it litterally have theo doing crossword puzzles & fighting zombies

Vacancy Signs - LovelyLittleGrim

Summary: Theo and Liam are in Manhattan negotiating a pack allyship when the zombie apocalypse breaks out. Now, the two of them have to find their way back to Beacon Hills without getting eaten by zombies or killing one another.

Rated: Explicit, Graphic Description of Violence, Not Completed, 15/17 Chapters, Words: 89,605 (89k)

Royalty AU !! I REPEAT ROYALTY AU !! a fantastic au where i stan their moms more than i stan them !! genuinely so good at the childhood rivals to lovers trope !! i’m genuinely obsessed with this one. has made me cry more than once ,, hurts in a good way <3 the ending is just *chefs kiss* also one of the tags is genuinely: # theo and liam make bad choices for over 130k straight !! if that doesn’t sound appealing i don’t know what does !!

Artificial Love - songbvrd

Summary: Prince Theo and Prince Liam are forced to spend every Summer together from age five onwards. They hate each other, and usually find ways to make each other miserable as much as possible in their six weeks together. But when they're reunited because of intended unions as adults, things change. They're both supposed to be married to noble women, but neither of them is as interested in anyone else as they are with their childhood rival.

Rated: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, Chapters: 32/32, Words: 172,935 (172k)

so if you are in the mood for a crack fic that’s not explicitally a crack fic this is for you !! okay so i’m really hit or miss with AU’s ,, sometimes i feel like they don’t quite capture the characters right but this story have the BEST dramatic liam i have ever seen in my life !! basically they all live in the same apartment building & it’s fantastic !! i saw this one floating around a lot but the summary didn’t really unrest me until i have it a shot !! so go read it rn !! also nolan & brett are genuinely fantastic and make me wheeze ,, LIKE ACTUALLY VERBALLY LAUGHING !! all i’m gonna say is that my fav characters are scott & the beetles but that won’t make actual sense until you read it !!

The Neighbors Song - TheodoreR

Summary: “I always hear you singing on your balcony every morning, but suddenly you’ve stopped?”

Or the one where Theo annoys Liam every morning with his awful singing until he doesn’t anymore and Liam is even more annoyed. Liam hates every single thing about his mornings -the fact that they happen in the morning alone is enough. The thing Liam hates the most about his mornings though is the terrible voice of the guy who lives below him. He can’t sing for shit and Liam tried to politely let him understand that by throwing flour and water on his balcony, and also by shouting it to him, you can’t sing for shit!, and then by writing it into a note he proceeded to attach to his door, but this Raeken guy just keeps doing it, every single morning, like a fucking rooster. Liam did nothing to deserve this. He probably didn’t do anything to deserve better either to be fair, he doesn’t expect to open his window and be welcomed by some angelic voice singing him good morning, he’d just be happy with nothing. Silence. That’s something Liam can appreciate in mornings. Just some bark from his dog and the sound of his misery and that’s it. But no, god forbid the new guy lets him have that.

Rated: Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Wanrings, Completed, 8/8 Chapters, Words: 42,814 (42k)

me: i’m not a big fan of AU’s ,, proceeds to talk about ANOTHER au… OKAY BUT THIS ONE !! it’s not complete but the author has been updating regularly ,, vv slow burn !! but in a REALLY intresting way !! i lOVE LIAM IN THIS SO MUCH ,, he is such a diaster of a person and it’s wonderful !! they have a great dynamic & i’m sucker for general puppy pack content ( and erica reyes being a badass ) !! also theo plays lacrosse in this & i really like it ahhhhh ,, also liam is just being an artic monkeys stan the whole time & theo is like *que confused repressed gay noises*

Inglorious Roommates - honeyscape

Summary: A roommate is defined as “a person with whom one shares a room.”

Theo would say a roommate was more along the lines of, “The person who's the bane of his existence. The weirdo that sleeps for days. The spaz that exercises at 3am. The guy with a revolving door of annoying friends. An insufferable human being that Theo has no control over living in his room.”

Example: Theo hates his roommate Liam.

okay okay i hate myself but i have another WIP for y’all !! this one is jUST FANTASTIC. i’m genuinely so upset it’s most likely not going to updated again *incoherent screaming ensues*. for this story ,, it’s very theo-centric bUT thats bc it ends right before liam becomes a concrete member of the story !! ANYWAY: basic plot = theo & acquiring not one but two children ,, so #dad theo but he is still crusty & homeless and i love him very much. it’s just so GOOD !! just read if you want to experience my fav theo coming out story & him etching high school musical

Look who's talking - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: Theo had been labeled many things in his life. Evil, failure, monster. He'd never thought Father would be one of those things but as he looked across the table to a six year old with blue smears of bubble gum icecream across her face trying to coax the first words out of her sister. Finger jabbing towards Theo's face as she repeated 'Daddy' again and again he couldn't bring himself to dispute the label.

(Theo accidentally adopts two young werewolves)

Not Rated, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Not Completed, Chapters: 16/?, Words: 48740 ( 48k )

so here me out: post-canon ( poetry like angst ) summer get away !! just the boys doing cute little domestic things together whilst pining !! theo’s guilt in this is just so powerful & aGjffkgkkfkvkdlv !! i think it’s so interesting to see how they interact in this one, it’s just very heart warming !! and it features one of my favorite niche teen wolf tropes of theo being great with like seven year old girls- it’s just so good ,, very much a wonderful little one shot that just makes your heart happy.

(next time i see you you'll show me) a hundred different ways to say the same things - cherrysprite

Summary: “...You deserve good things,” Liam says eventually. He makes sure not to look at Theo even though he can feel his eyes turn on him. Somehow he can already tell that Theo doesn’t believe him.

Liam instantly makes that the goal of this summer - making Theo believe him.

Rating: Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 28875 ( 28k )

okay so this next section of fic recs is a bit different !!

two of my favorite authors !! and a compilation of fics i’ve read by them both !!

for context: these two have written some genuinely gorgeous fics, like pure poetry, they explore the real gritty & scary side of our boys relationship in such a wonderful way. they’ve both used some of my favorite tropes & i love them very much !!

whenever i need something soothing but so genuinely intresting & enticing these are my go to !! ( also they both write a lot of good nolan angst & some vv good fics with hayden )

go check out:

eneiryu

as well as fallingforboys

here are some of my favorite fics by them ~

darling i want you here in my arms (kiss the pain away, i know you can) - fallingforboys

even before you touched me, i belonged to you (all you had to do was look at me) - fallingforboys

memories linger like tattoo scars (but your touch on my skin is just as permanent) - fallingforboys

skin, bones, a stolen heart, and an ugly creature lurking underneath -fallingforboys

i don't know how to breathe in the place i called home - fallingforboys

whisper your gossamer truths into the shadow, maybe you'll find the answers you're searching for - fallingforboys

between the mountains and the valley we built a monument to our regret - eneiryu

cracked the hinges of the cage and waited for you - eneiryu

okay and finally: since i am a self centered whore

my own fic: an rendition of the # elevator scene

it’s basically my version of post canon if we did get the kiss in the elevator. we got a classic liam pov in which he is has 12/10 for extreme bi diaster energy even whilst being shot at !! so go him ig…

Fuck Off, Fuck This & Fuck It! - nefelibata_peach

Summary: Liam thought to himself heart rate climbing, they were bound to be dead by morning. So he thought with everything but his brain and he kissed him.

Where Liam Dunbar is very confused, slightly traumatized, and just a bit scared but hey, aren't they all! Bad decisions ensue as two boys fight in a war they never did sign up for.

Rating: Teen and Up, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 3558 ( 3k )

#this took me so long #please go read these or i’ll cry #fan fiction #fan fic recs #teen wolf fic recs #thiam fanfiction #thiam fic recs #thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #theo x liam #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf gay #teen wolf #ao3 #fuck you fuck this & fuck it #thiam fanfic rec #thiam fanfic #thiam is endgame

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ecoamerica · 15 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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thedamageofherdays · 3 years

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This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

#r's reading log #my reading log #fic rec #stucky #stucky fic rec #fic recs #stevebucky #long post

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redwinterroses · 3 years

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RIIIIIIIIIGHT SO.

I just finished chapter 13 of Dog At The Door and holy hot cross buns batman if you're not reading this fic you NEED to. It's literally one of the best written fics I have ever read in my life and I've been reading fanfiction for over 15 years, lol.

I went back and reread the entire fic to lead up to chapter 13 and I decided to treat it like I used to treat things I had to read in college so I took notes as I went and please I am warning you this post is incredibly long. Almost 3k words. PLEASE do not hit that "read more" button unless you're good with having to scroll past it all and also spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

~*~

Rereading Dog at the Door reactions (spoilers, obviously):

· Doc finding Ren’s body to be cold and for a second thinking he’s actually dead—my heart

· “That’s Ren, alive and kicking.” Oh…no, Doc. No it’s not.

· The first “Where is my hand?” hits different the second time through

· Gah the ice and winter imagery ALL over the place—my English degree brain wants to watch and see if that shifts to warmth at any point as we go? Thoughts for future Red to think.

· It’s fascinating to me to see Doc constantly thrust into the prey role. This is a guy who is very much not that person normally, but something about the Red King is beyond anything he’s really encountered before—or at least not since Dinnerbone—and it pushes him into an entirely new role that he clearly chafes in

· “I should get back to work on your new arm soon,” he says, making a mental note to add claws to the fingertips. Honestly Doc why tho. XD

· “It feels like something Ren would want him to do.” </3

· Side note: I just watched Doc’s freaking hour long shulker farm vid, and that’s making it a lot easier to hear his voice in this fic

· I’m more curious about the hand.” New Ren laughs a bit at his own words, as though there’s something funny about that phrasing. I MISSED THIS LINE THE FIRST TIME THROUGH

· The bead curtain being cursed hippie treasure XD

· The fact that Doc just so quickly accepts that Ren is gone—maybe not permanently, but at least for now—is kind of heartbreaking. Because you know he hasn’t really accepted it, he’s just… deciding not to feel anything about it. Just nod and move on and pretend you don’t need to stop and cope with the possible/probable death of your best friend and the fact that Someone Else is wearing his skin. That’s so sad.

· “high-fiving the finished hand with his own metal hand.” Aww… Doccy.

· “He shoos away the images of New Ren holding him up by the throat supervillain-style and turns around.” Hmmmmmmm want that fanart. Scary New Ren/RK is good stuff. (post-chapter-13 Red popping in with a WHAT THE HECK)

· “that makes him seem like a ghost in Ren’s body.” YA KNOW. LIKE HE IS.

· Okay side note time: why is the Red King here? Ya know? Like – in 3rdLife the idea of a possessing spirit of bloodlust makes some sense. But why stick around? Was RK trying to escape the 3L server, or was this not deliberate? At what point did he take over from Ren—at Black Heart Altar? In which case, was the whole idea Ren’s to begin with, or was he influenced? Maybe it happened the first time Ren died? The Red King took over then—or at least started to? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

· Wait more theories—what if RK is connected to the ????? entity that spoke to Martyn when he died? In which case, cMartyn said he was considering making that canonically a Watcher (he ended up not doing it, but he also didn’t do anything that contradicted it either). I’m not saying RK is a Watcher… but boy he sure does stare a lot, don’t he.

· Holding the screwdriver like a dagger—mmmm

· Okay funny thought: all this frost, RK’s gonna need to be real careful about rust lol. And straining the metal, tbh, all that freezing and thawing is going to have an effect but the rust idea is making me laugh

· Until I realized it would look like blood and it’s not funny anymore

· “Renbob is in the beanbag stuffed next to the driver’s seat” right so is this where Renbob sleeps because I have been wondering—

· “something about having two people look like Ren when neither of them are makes Doc stop to take a shaky breath” *sob*

· “Renbob clears his throat, looking up at Doc with a smile that is so obviously fake that it hurts.” Ugh the LOT of you stop repressing everything you’ll give yourselves a collective hernia

· “he’ll probably have to break the news to the other hermits, too, Iskall and False and all the others.” All these painful lines I somehow missed the first time through

· Awww warm air comes in when Renbob opens the door—with the flowers and everything, Renbob is so easily associated with spring, I love this contrast.

· Aaand there it is, yup, RK is shocked to see his face on Renbob, and Renbob is shocked to see that this is so clearly Not Ren.

· They both recover pretty quickly, though. Survivors, both of them.

· RK calls Renbob their “ferryman” and I’m not sure if I was supposed to get “crossing the river Styx” vibes from that But I Did. (does RK think he’s dead? That they’re all dead?) (post-chapter-13 Red here with a little bit of wordless screaming.) (and also a bit of pride that I picked up on this.)

· “And what a help you’ve been! Fixing me up, replacing my hand.” Hi yes, 911? there’s a dagger stabbed into my feels.

· “he’d rather remember rage than see another person’s heart break.” Dang that’s such a raw line. Oof.

· ”the Red King says, his voice hoarse with tears.” Really interesting that this blood deity can feel such emotions—like, anger or even fear, I can get. But to see this entity upset to the point of tears is fascinating.

· “There is a crown on Doc’s workbench.” Right, yeah so like—is RK unwillingly manifesting these artifacts? Because that’s wild, man. …how long before he manifests an “enchanter”?

· “I’ve never seen it [the crown] clean before.” Okay that definitely implies that maybe RK didn’t come around until after Black Heart Altar?

· “The Red King has the crown in his lap when Doc turns back around, claws gently tracing over the engravings, leaving frost patterns behind.” I really wish I had art skills because there’s this image in my head of a drawing of the crown held in RK’s hands, with his face (one eye glowing, one in shadow) reflected in the surface, and frost patterns following behind a claw that’s daintily tracing the surface. But I can’t draw so—

· RK asks for a change of clothes. What was he wearing when they rescued him, I wonder? The Red King outfit with the fur capelet? Or Ren’s Stargazer outfit? Which begs the question: where does Stargazer fit into all this? Was Ren’s return to Hermitcraft RK free, but when he came so close to dying to Sith, RK found that as a gateway to take over? (Post-13 Red here, Looking Intently at this note.)

· Awww… the image of a one-legged RK clutching new clothes to his chest and hopping down to change in the bathroom… That’s weirdly endearing. He’s less menacing when he stands up somehow. Less lurking, maybe.

· Oooohhhhh he messed up his back sleeping on the floor. Gotcha.

· Doc keeps telling himself (and RK) that saving him and working on these parts is “the right thing to do” and while he’s not WRONG I just want to see him realize that it’s not only the right thing, it’s realistically the only thing, because if he didn’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s lost his best friend and we can’t have that.

· “I don’t need to eat” ummmmmm no hold on this definitely implies that RK is possessing a dead body and I’m not okay with that where is Ren

· LOLOL “I can’t stand to see [you do] this” is such a raw line to be about watching Doc eat cereal with his hands

· “The voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does.” Ugh, Doc. This isn’t the first time he’s lost a close friend to Something Else, something otherworldly.

· “All of them are waiting for him, waiting for him to do something more, something better—” aaand there it is. Doc’s characterization in this fic in a single sentence.

· Doc waking up and thinking he’s seeing Ren and RK’s hesitation and the gentle “I’m not Ren”—OH MY HEART

· RK’s coffee = Renbob’s friendship bracelets

· Randomly can I just say that I love how RK’s dialog is all in italics? It concerned me at first because I thought it was going to keep pulling me out of the narrative, but instead it really just feels right. Also I’m looking forward to the moment when he says something and it’s not in italics because it’s REN and oh my lands please give this to me I beg you (post-13 Red here with a bit more mindless screaming)

· “watch your tongue with me, Atlas, because I’m the one person you can pass the sky to.” Okay okay okay—English studies brain coming out. This suggests that there is a burden RK and Doc can share: something Doc is currently struggling against that only RK can help him with. In the moment, I don’t know if this is really fair of RK to say—after all, Doc does technically have Renbob too, if we’re just talking about Doc’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. In fact, if that’s the context, then Renbob is a much better fellow-Atlas because he and Doc have known each other much longer and they’re both dealing with the loss of Ren. BUT, knowing about the upcoming conversation where Doc and RK both realize that they’ve lost someone (Ren for Doc, Martyn for RK) this line suddenly has a lot more weight. Again, I don’t think that in that moment RK quite has the right to pull this zinger. But in later context, it turns out to be true after all. They are the only two with this particular shared pain.

· Doc upset with himself because he can’t get over his “stupid hang-ups” DOC MY LAD. “I’ve lost my best friend, you’re in his body, and I don’t know how to process any of these emotions” is not a “stupid hang-up” PLEASE stop blaming yourself for everything!?

· “I’m so tired” in the middle of his nightmare—oh my gosh. That hurts so much for some reason.

· I also very much wish I had the ability to draw the image of Doc with tears on his face, staring dead-eyed down at his workbench while RK looms over from behind, pinning his wrists to the table with one metal arm and one frost-bitten one, a look of exasperation and concern on his face. Why can’t I draw the things

· “How do you know Etho” “I watched him die.” OW ow ow ow ow

· Doc takes this as calmly as only someone used to living in a world where death has low consequences can. Oh. Oh—that means… huh. Doc isn’t used to losing people permanently on any basis, especially not death. So no wonder he doesn’t know how to process Ren being gone (I can’t bear to write “dead” there). He literally doesn’t have context for it… and what context he DOES have is like—I mean, Etho and Bdubs came back. Ouch.

· “Twenty-five.” The Red King makes the number sound like a threat. Yet another banger line I missed the first time through. Imagine waking up and thinking you’re in 3rd Life again but instead of 14 players there’s almost twice that many and you think you don’t know any of them.

· I still don’t quite understand the “when was etho added/should have known there was something different” bit or why RK is so emotional about it… but I have trust that it’ll make sense at some point. (post-13 Red: ...is this something about the fact that he thinks he's dead...so he thinks Etho has died before? Like, that 3rd Life wasn't Etho's first hardcore? ...I feel like I'm almost grasping this but I'm missing an element somewhere.)

· And now a sword. RK. My man. You need to stop manifesting things—especially when they scare the ever-living daylights out of you.

· I absolutely adore the in-universe lore that Fire Aspect is a PvP enchantment because it threatens dropped loot, and yeah I very well might steal that. (Along with something I read at one point who-even-knows-where that Knockback is a coward’s enchantment, because I love that too.)

· He really shouldn’t. / Doc picks up the sword by the scabbard and hands it to him, hilt extended. Doc you already trust this guy so much and you don’t even know it—but is it just because you still subconsciously trust the face he wears? Or is it something deeper?

· Ugh, the “I was supposed to kill someone for him” conversation/scene is SO FREAKING GOOD

· “I don’t want it. Not like the crown.” Why, though? Why doesn’t he want it? Because it’s more to do with death than kingship? OH. Oh, I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been thinking of RK as this like, god of blood and vengeance but maybe he’s not. Maybe he hates the bloodshed (“the blood! It’s drippin’ in me eyes… I’ve been blinded by the violence…”) just as much—more?—than Ren did/would have. Huh. That’s a new facet.

· Oh my heart the “have you ever lost someone and it was your fault” line. Dagger to the feels. Dagger to the feels.

· This like… “I’m on a roll and even though I know I should stop I really don’t want to” mode? Man. That’s relatable. Especially when you’re working to avoid dealing with something else.

· “Not making it for you—it’s for Ren” oh ouch ouch ouch the denial suddenly breaks through it’s okay, Doc I’m with you on this

· The second time reading through it’s far clearer that Doc has a blind panic attack here—when he starts rambling that Ren’s coming back, he’ll be there for season eight and RK goes to…do whatever he was going to do and Doc just blanks out. The manic productivity should have been a warning sign, the poor guy is crumbling.

· “Doctor” and “he’s not sure he deserves that title right now” UGH Doc needs a hug someone please hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Someone please hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

· “his hand on his throat” over the scar from the Red Winter axe? </3

· “I did do that. I have done that.” RK admitting to it actually having been him in Doc’s nightmares?

· Okay sorry the conversation about beating Dinnerbone will never not be funny to me

· RK mentions that people used to call him m’lord or Ren, and then mere minutes later you have “Ren. You couldn’t save him because of me, could you?” He knows exactly what’s going on here. Not maliciously, but he’s no dense-head, he’s put the pieces together. (post-13 Red: MOST of the pieces. Most of them.)

· Watching Doc slowly stop fighting his nightmares—like, the first time, he fights. The second time, he accepts it but still struggles. And this time… this time he gives up before it even starts. That hurts, man.

· Good grief the whole “get my head chopped off” / “you really don’t want that” bit. O.O I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling but I’m Feeling An Emotion.

· “Snow’s new. Dream’s not.” </3

· …Doc’s not gonna be a fan of snowier-snow after this trip…

· "Dr. M77" Actually he’s Doc Monster, RK, but we’ll let it go. XD

· OKAY BUT THIS EXCHANGE? The “how are you feeling” / “better” / “you’re a bad liar” / “I said better not great” that’s such a good exchange and I don’t know why every other time I’ve ever seen it used they stop at the lying accusation? Doc with the snappy comebacks, man.

· Aaah, Doc and RK, two establishment bros bonding over a shared disdain for hippies.

· The bit about the fella who wore an iron helmet and called it a powdered wig—fear is in my heart. *shoves Scar into an obsidian box and blocks it closed*

· “Who was Ren to you?” </3

· Doc is more than willing to spread the flames, to sear his loss into RK’s bones. / The king’s face stops him. Ren’s face stops him. Holy CRAP is that a good set of lines. So much going on there, and ALL of it good.

· Again. I wish I could draw. I would draw RK sitting on the edge of the bed, gently hugging a collapsed-in-on-himself Doc. </3

· “And I hate the devil that forced us apart, that mixed my blood with his.” *adds another layer to Scar’s obsidian fort*

· OKAY STARTING CHAPTER THIRTEEN I made the mistake of logging into Tumblr earlier and saw people screaming so I’m sure I’m not ready for this but here we go

· Oh no RK has been hippie-ified

· “You started a paramilitary organization because you have hay fever?” *dies laughing*

· Ugh I need to go back and watch s6 I’ve only seen the tail end of Mumbo’s side of things and there’s so much I don’t know.

· HAHAHAHAH I do know the trident bit though—

· Wait he said Scar

· PANIC

· “Kingslayer. bloodthirsty. Time King. The coward. And the mastermind behind it all, the loyal soldier to the very end, the whole damn reason either of us are in this mess.”

· HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY—

· “Is this the afterlife I deserve? After everything, this is the hell I’m going to endure?” I AM SCREAMING

· Doc pinned to the wall with ice, struggling to breathe—I CAN’T WHAT IS HAPPENING

· ((You know I’d get through this a lot faster if I stopped pausing to write reactions—))

· “A break in the ice. A whisper of spring.” Symbolism. Symbolism.

· “Ren was dead when I found him again,” NO I REFUSE TO READ THIS

· “don’t use the hand I built you to hurt yourself” DOC. SIR. MY HEART.

· RK don't run, RK get back here—what are you—

· I

· JUST

· ACTUALLY

· SCREAMED

· AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

· *several long moments of just breathing*

· *rereads*

· Holy crap on a garbage cracker with an extra serving of what-the-heck sauce

· REN

· Okay lol okay hahaha calming down

· I literally threw myself back in my chair away from the computer reading that last paragraph. I don't usually... physically react to things I read. LOL. Heh. I’m. Ah. I’m not emotionally invested in this or anything.

· Holy crap.

· Okay. Okay. Okay.

· Um.

· Great chapter, guys. Awesome stuff. Really good. I’m absolutely okay right now and it’s all totally fine.

· …please enjoy your break and get lots of rest and I very much look forward to the return of this fic you have no idea.

· I need to go breathe for a little bit.

EDIT: no, you know what--I'm not going to be a nice polite fangirl over here and quietly hope y'all see this I'm straight up tagging you, @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands. THANK YOU but also how dare.

#The only reason I'm even posting this is for my own remembering later #and i guess if fluffy or solar want to see my mindless ramblings -- go nuts #long post #redwinterreacts #redwintertalks #dog at the door

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mayonnaisetoffees · 3 years

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Mayo's Fic Recs

List of my favourite fics below the cut; this list is a WIP and completely personal taste; a mix of fandom classics and lesser knowns

Please remember to leave comments and kudos for the authors and podficcers!

*shows particular favourites

Fandoms currently included: Spn, Merlin, Les Mis, BatFam

Fics That Changed Me Fundamentally

Loaded March*** by Footloose. Merlin | E | 1.26M(Series)/ 35k (First part) | 188k hits (First part)

The reason SAS Captain Arthur Pendragon can’t keep a communications specialist in Team Excalibur because none of them are good enough. And then Lieutenant Merlin Emrys gets assigned to his squad, and Arthur does everything he can to prove that Merlin isn’t good enough, either. Except he is.

You can read all about my thoughts on Loaded March here, here, and here. Basically this fic series is beautifully written, has absolutely delicious UST, has found family, magic, and high stakes. It’s been part of my life for almost a decade now, I made friends through LM that I still have to this day, and it genuinely changed me as a person. Plus there are 78k of Extras to itch that I Finished Now What scratch. Parts 1-5 have been podficced and you can find them in works inspired by this one in each part.

Down to Agincourt*** by Seperis. Supernatural | E | 1.12M(Series)/ 154k (First part) | 73k hits (First part)

The world’s already over and they’re already dead. All they’re doing now is marking time until the end.

S7!Dean is transported back to the aftermath of where 5x04 The End left off. Much like LM, DtA was one that I avoided for a while. I didn’t think it would be my thing. I’m not usually into End!verse, it sounded so bleak from the summary, and it sounded so long for something I wasn’t sure about. If you’re reading this and nodding along? You are as much a fool as I was. Yes, it’s the end of the world. But it’s not over yet. This is a beautiful journey in what it means to be yourself, how to survive the end of the world, a How-To for Coups, and a study in food as a love language. I only read this fic this year, but like LM, it has genuinely changed me. Map of the World has been podficced.

Supernatural

Let’s start with the current hyperfixation. All of these are at least passively Dean/Cas unless otherwise stated. I've split into ones from my first time around in the SPN fandom and more recent ones because the vibes are actually really different and it took me some time to adjust (Not in a bad way! In a time has passed they have grown as characters way)

Old-School SPN (AKA the Classics my first time around)

Canon-Compliant or Divergent

Home in Motion* by nomdeplume13 M | 232k | 48k hits

Castiel swore he was done with spur of the moment decisions that permanently changed Dean Winchester's life. A year after the angel's most disastrous, his newest may present the largest challenge of dean's life: Fatherhood.

Did someone say kid!fic in canonverse? This is perfect. Canon divergence from the end of S6. Cas saves a baby from a neglectful mother and gives him to Dean to raise. They all move in with Bobby. Great OCs. Bobby considers Cas his son. Listen everything I say here will not be able to begin to encompass how much I love this fic. Just trust me on this one.

Named* by RC_McLachlan M | 95k | 95k hits

Jesus Christ is dead. Somehow, that isn't the worst part of Dean's week.

With a summary like that, need I say more? No but I'm gonna. This is one of the funniest fics I've ever read, but it doesn't take any emotion from the serious moments, if anything it heightens them. There are so many quotes from this I think about all the time. It was written in 2010 and so there's a bit of misogyny/character assassination of Anna in places.

Second Childhood by CloudyJenn (read by exmanhater) G | 16k (1h30) | 10k hits

"Dude, I can't do this whole thing by myself," Dean said with far more desperation leaking into his tone than he liked. It would just be too much to make it through hell and death and Lucifer only to have Castiel bail on him because of a frigging baby.

They beat the Apocalypse (OG-S5) and then Sam gets de-aged by a spell. I've listened to this so many times I know it by heart, it's an ultimate comfort fic to me.

Defy Any and All Expectation* by Tenoko1 (read by Tenoko1) M | 138k (14hrs) | 37k hits

Chuck's newly released books tell of another war between Heaven and Hell. Team Free Will sets out to try to defy prophecy, only to realize there is a lot more at stake and amiss than the not-quite-accurate words of one Prophet of the Lord. Along the way, Dean and Cas' relationship continues to evolve into something neither expected or were prepared for, all of their lives transforming in ways no one could have expected. But with no shortage of cases, monsters, and mayhem, it's going to require the help of new friends and old enemies if they're to have a hope of saving the world one more time. Alternate Season Six.

So this is a re-written version of Tenoko1's The Path We Choose which I don't think is around anymore. By the time I was reading the re-write as each chapter came out, I knew every single line of TPWC and it wasn't all that much shorter. It's such a perfect canon divergence because they are all 100% in-character. If you're into podfic, you already know what an absolute gift 14 hours is, but if you have never tried podfic before, Tenoko1 is a fantastic place to start. Her voice is soothing and energetic and her Cas sometimes comes to mind when I'm reading fic in Misha's place (sorry Misha)

His Fucking Kids 'Verse by 8sword M | 96k(Series)/ 3k (first part) | 26k hits (first part)

Jesus, the school should just have a parking spot labeled, “Reserved for the Novak-Winchesters,” because Dean’s getting sick of having to cruise around the parking lot looking for a spot every time he gets a call from the principal about Emma.

Emma survives and Dean and Cas are raising her and Claire. This fic series will make you laugh, make you cry, and (nowadays) make you wish Emma had survived to be a part of Wayward Sisters.

One Species Too Many by wallmakerrelict E | 22k | 37k hits

While Dean is laid up for a month after breaking his leg on a hunt, Cas decides that it's a perfect time to adopt a litter of kittens. But even though he's gotten better since Purgatory, Cas still isn't quite the same as he was before fixing Sam's head, and being trapped in a cabin with him for weeks on end is making that all the more obvious to Dean. When Sam takes off on a hunt, Dean has to figure out on his own how to navigate his new relationship with Cas while also helping to raise a bunch of fuzzballs that aren't even cute. Not even a little bit. (Well, maybe a little bit.)

Dean breaks his legs, and honey!Cas brings home some kittens to foster. It's achingly sweet and also painful because you know Dean wants to fix Cas but there's nothing to fix. It is tagged for ableism for this.

Tripping* by Hatteress E | 49k | 78k hits

That time the universe decided Dean belonged with Cas and wasn't afraid to pull out the big guns to make it so. Big guns in this case being obsessive fangirls, archangels turned tricksters and overly enthusiastic cupids. Welcome to Dean's life.

Alt!S5 and it is beautiful. Also any fic with Missouri is an automatic win.

Broadway Musical by Grifitings M | 12k | 79k hits

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle. The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at. Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

Jimmy deserves a sainthood and frankly I don't even want to hear about crack if it's not on the level of the Host yelling at Cas not to touch the butt.

Classic AUs (AKA AUs from my first time around)

Try Something Tuesday by almaasi E | 48k | 144k hits

Dean Winchester teaches a third-grade class. He's new to this whole ‘bisexual’ thing - but by pure happenstance, he meets Castiel: a particularly dapper male librarian who moonlights as a substitute teacher. Dean's curious and Castiel is willing, so why the hell not? Except, fate never intended it to be one-time-only...

This was one of the first spn fics to really really stay with me and it never really left.

Rock 'n' Roll Queer Bar by ChasingRabbits E | 127k(Series)/ 8k (Part1) | 29k hits (Part1)

Ellen and Jo Harvelle run Harvelle's Roadhouse, a bar that unintentionally becomes a beacon for wayward queer souls. Her employees: Dean, the smartass runaway with a big heart and bigger mouth; Castiel, the college drop-out turned hippie; his (surprisingly heterosexual) trouble-making brother Gabriel; and Charlie, who has been told several times that the back room is not to be used for after-hours Dungeons & Dragons games. But there's a lot of love in this place, and a new family for anyone who may otherwise be without.

This series. If you've ever felt unsure or out of place or anxious or just really felt like no-one understood you, this fic is for you. I first found this series when I was coming to terms with my queerness and I genuinely think it was invaluable. Also I am a sucker for the go for a dinner at Cas's family and end up storming out trope.

Play It All Night Long by janie_tangerine (read by Tenoko1) NC17 | 43k (4hrs)

The rom-com-ish one where Dean hosts a late night radio show, Castiel is a regular listener of his who starts calling one day and ends up calling more often than not and Dean finds himself liking it. This, until one day Castiel calls for not exactly petty reasons (just before Dean's brother Sam is visiting with his girlfriend for spring break) and things get very, very crowdy at his place. He also doesn't know it's just the beginning of it. Also features Gabriel, Chuck, Andy, the Roadhouse crew and a huge amount of music quoted. Especially Bob Dylan.

Again, this podfic has got me through many a night of insomnia. Cas calls in after a particularly shitty day and it all goes from there.

New-School SPN (AKA post-2014)

Canon-Compliant or Divergent

Tall Grass by aeli_kindara E | 57k | 28k hits

“I think we should have a garden,” Cas says. Dean looks up from his beer. He hasn’t had that much to drink, but Cas still has a vague look of unreality about him, a splash of living color that doesn’t fit in the bunker’s echoing stillness. Dean didn’t hear him coming. A lot of the time, Cas is so unobtrusive it feels like Dean has the bunker to himself, with Sam away. Dean shakes his head to clear it. “A — garden?” he repeats.

There is a reason you will see this recced time and time again. It healed parts of me I didn't know needed healing.

So Says the Sword* by komodobits E | 85k | 73k hits

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’ Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected

I saw ssts mentioned in like every single If you're getting back into the fandom READ THIS rec list. For good reason. It's described as "canon-adjacent in that seasons one to three happened exactly the same, but when Dean goes to Hell, he is not raised by Castiel". It's one of the most interesting concepts I've read and it's one of those fics where the writing style will stick with you. Castiel POV in a way you've never read before.

Aching in the Absence of You* by sobsicles E | 95k | 9k hits (in 5 days)

Brittle and battle-worn, Cas looks at him over coffee one morning and says, "I need to go," and Dean instantly knows that he's not coming back. He's not really sure how he knows it, but he does. It settles into the pit of his stomach, curling hot and tight like something he instinctively wants to tear out with his bare hands. He takes a breath, and it gets stuck in his throat, hitching there. It hurts, hurts, hurts when he finally exhales. "Yeah," Dean says, "of course you do," and he nods jerkily as he looks down at his phone. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't look up from the screen when Cas gets up and leaves the room. He doesn't finish his coffee, or move for a long time. By nightfall, Cas is gone.

If you don't already know sobsicles, I am delighted to introduce you to the person who will smash you to pieces with a hammer to put you back together Kintsugi-style. This one is post-finale but without 15x18 (it'll make sense as it goes). Cas says he's going to leave again and again Dean doesn't ask him to stay. Full of lines so beautiful they'd make Shakespeare weep, Sobsicles has this way of writing that is so evocative and paints such a clear picture. Fair warning, if you're Dean-coded, this might be A Lot.

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination)** by sobsicles E | 108k | 25k hits

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next. ~~~ Cas hums again. "I think you already have. It's been months since everything settled. All that's left to do is...get used to it, and perhaps—" His voice stalls out, uncharacteristically, and his gaze roams Dean's face with intensity. When he speaks next, his tone is a little raw. "Perhaps what one does with peace is...whatever they want." "What if I don't even know what that is?" Dean grumbles, arching an eyebrow in challenge. "'Cause I know damn well you don't just mean good food and a good bed and time in Baby, not simple wants like that. You mean—ya know, the big things, the wants we didn't get to have before." "Yes," Cas agrees. "If you're not sure, figure it out." "Easier said than done."

Yes, two sobsicles recs back to back. This one I read first and it still holds such a special place in my heart. A sign of a good fic is being able to picture it perfectly. The sign of an amazing fic is that when reading this I was so in Dean's shoes I could feel a pool cue between my hands and Baby behind my back. And I sobbed like a baby in this. It has probably my favourite ending ever. It's genuinely beautiful. If you don't read another on this list, read this one.

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara M | 52k | 14k hits

In which Castiel teaches poetry to fish. Also, himself. Also, eventually, Dean. (A series-long story, diverging slightly from canon after S14.)

The ultimate Cas character study and interwoven with poetry.

So There It Is, I've Said It All by PorcupineGirl (read by Ceewelsh) G | 4k | 13k hits

"Why, do you have something you need to say to me that you don't think I'll like?" I think I'm in love with you. "Yeah. I guess so."

Dean figures out he's in love with Cas then can't stop thinking it. This is genuinely beautiful and if you've ever had trouble actually saying the thing you're thinking, you'll relate to Dean here. I recently did the podfic for this.

you won't find this place alone by amidsizedfrog G | 9.5k |

When Claire said she was dropping out of college to pursue hunting full time, Dean said, “right,” and left the room. Or, the cross-generation conversation about formal education, choosing your own path and figuring out what it looks like to find a family. Or, in other words: "But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell-attitude, and I'll figure it out." - Dean Winchester

This is a beautiful look at education in the hunter world, and I love anything that looks at Dean and Bobby's relationship and this does it perfectly. Also best cameo ever.

Seek to Know You Better by ahurston E | 33k | 23k hits

Dean and Cas, a long stretch of highway, and 36 questions empirically designed to make two people fall in love. As if they weren't already.

This is perfect. It has a lovely slow pace like it has the vibes of an indie film if that makes sense? Like it's two guys going from place to place talking. It was an instant favourite.

Newer AUs (AKA more recent AUs)

And This, Your Living Kiss* by opal_bullets M | 57k | 69k hits

Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen.

When I asked which fics were absolute must-reads for someone who'd been out of the fandom a few years, this was said repeatedly. But what really got me to read it was everyone actually told me more about what it meant to them than just the summary. It's a study in poetry, a study in learning who you are and who you used to be, and a reminder that it's never too late.

The Graveyard Shift* by riseofthefallenone, PurgatoryJar E | 620k | 175k hits

Dean’s favourite coffee shop, The Graveyard Shift, is only open after the sun goes down. Which is perfect for him, because that’s exactly when he craves coffee the most while doing the overnight at the fire hall. The coffee shop’s owner is pretty perfect too, but it’s kind of a bummer that Dean never gets to see Cas during the day. In a world where the supernatural live more or less in peace with the rest of humanity, it’s a little impolite to ask Cas just what he really is - or what his dark past entails.

A fantastic magical realism fic - magical creatures live and work with humans. Gabe and Cas run a coffee shop, Dean is a fireman, and the burn is slow and delicious and the intrigue kept me reading for like a week every single spare minute.

Painted Angels by WinJennster E | 106k | 162k hits

Author Castiel Novak has finally hit the big time, with a book based on his failed college relationship with a brilliant painter. He's put all his pain behind him, but at a book signing, he comes face to face with Dean Winchester for the first time in twelve years, and the reunion doesn't go like Cas hoped. Dean's a broken man, with a lot of scars and secrets, shoulders weighed down by his demons and self loathing. Cas sees a second chance with the man he's never stopped loving, but Dean's moved on, and is about to get married. Sam launches a "brilliant" plan to reunite his brother and his best friend, but Cas is worried it will all blow up in their faces, and he'll go through the agony of losing Dean a second time.

The first part of this I actually saved back when I was first in the fandom but I never got around to reading it (I had a To Read folder of 100+ fics that I absolutely dove into when I got back into spn) and the rest of the series finished in 2016 so I'm counting it in this section not the other. On the one hand, I wish I'd read this when it first came out. It's beautiful and heartbreaking, and so visual. On the other hand, I think I appreciated it a lot more now than I would have seven years ago. The parallel of me coming back to the old fandom that I loved dearly with Cas coming back to see someone and places he loved so much really hit. (Although coming back to the spn fandom was much easier and much less heartbreak!)

Finale Fix-Its (yeah fuck you Dabb that this has to be a whole category)

The Goldenrod Revisions by aethylas M | 66k | 15k hits

A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.

Script format re-write of 15x19 and 15x20 into a 5-episode finale fix-it. As far as I'm concerned, this and chocolatecakecas's American Pie fanvid are the Supernatural finale.

break the skin (to break the barriers)* by sobsicles M | 30k | 9k hits

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment. ~~~ Dean is silent for a long, tense moment, then he gruffly says, "It's not for banishing the angels. It's to summon them. So, it doesn't—it's not to get rid of 'em, but to draw 'em in." Mitzi can't help but glance up at him at that. His voice is so heavy with so much unexplained pain, and she doesn't understand why, or what angels have to do with it. She knows religion can impact people. She's very aware that it can get complicated, and that it can be a huge source of pain for someone, but Dean sounds grievously wronged, somehow, as if it's a truly personal thing. She pushes through, focusing back on her job, clearing her throat before murmuring, "Well, I guess we all want angels to visit us sometimes." "Just the one," Dean mumbles. "Your guardian angel?" Mitzi asks. Dean breathes out, "Something like that. As close to one as an angel will ever get."

Therapy through getting tattoos and telling your life story to someone who obviously doesn't think it's real. Outsider!POV not just done well, but done literally the best.

Kingdom Come by ahurston E | 17k | 10k hits

Cas wakes up on the coast of Maine. He makes his way home.

I don't know if this counts as finale fix-it as it's more fuck the finale we're ignoring that. There's just so much love and care in this fic.

The Family Business by chai_lattes M | 16k | 5.5k hits

It's all over. It's been weeks since Chuck's defeat and Cas' return from the Empty. There are no threats on the horizon, no apocalypses to stop, but there's something that keeps the Winchesters from being happy. Something that's maybe always been there. On their way back from a hunt, they find John Winchester, back from the dead.

If you're anything like me, you start rubbing your grubby little hands together at the tag John Winchester's A+ Parenting like yes let's address this! This is one of the best examples of John coming back and how it jars with the life that they have built. Also Claire and Jack getting to share screentime!

Merlin

If I have a forever fandom, it's Merlin. I've always kept one foot in this fandom, and it introduced me to fandom, and most importantly to podfic which kinda had an impact. All Merthur unless stated.

Canon-Verse

Seven Magpies by syllic (read by lunchee) E | 33k (3hr15) | 58k hits

Arthur opened his eyes a minute later to the sight of seven magpies streaking across the top of the clearing, their shapes dark against the white clouds and the muted grey of the sky. He tried to remember what it was that seven magpies meant—he'd had a nurse who had sung the rhyme to him as a child—but couldn't. Arthur wakes up somewhere he doesn't recognise, but where he clearly belongs.

Okay so this is an AU but it's Canon-AU so it's going here. Fantastic role reversal fic that you will be thinking about for weeks.

and from your grace, i fell by TheDragon (read by Ceewelsh) T | 4.6k (41mins) | 13k hits

“Where’s Merlin?” he asks the maid. “Where’s that idiot of a Court Sorcerer?!” “Begging your pardon, Your Majesty. I thought you knew,” the maid replies, not daring to look him in the eyes. “He’s taken ill.” “And he couldn’t be bothered to tell me himself that he would be unable to attend today’s council meeting?” Arthur questions, voice full of acid. “He hasn’t woken since he collapsed two days ago, Sire,” the maidservant says, blissfully unaware that what she’s saying the power to stop Arthur’s heart in its tracks.

When I first read this, it had me completely transfixed. I could not stop reading. It was so raw and so full of emotion. I was then lucky enough to get TheDragon in our exchange, so I did a podfic for it and it's probably the most proud I've been of one.

Modern AU

The Student Prince* by FayJay (read by FayJay) M | 145k (15hrs) | 696k hits

A Modern day Merlin AU set at the University of St Andrews, featuring teetotal kickboxers, secret wizards, magnificent bodyguards of various genders, irate fairies, imprisoned dragons, crumbling gothic architecture, arrogant princes, adorable engineering students, stolen gold, magical doorways, attempted assassination, drunken students, shaving foam fights, embarrassing mornings after, The Hammer Dance, duty, responsibility, friendship and true love...

A classic is a classic for a reason. I'm also pretty sure this introduced me to podfics so like special place in my heart x2. Did you know if you filter AO3 by hits on Merlin, this has 426k more hits than the second result? Now that is a Fandom Classic.

Drastically Redefining Protocol* by rageprufrock (read by lunchee) E | 46k (5hr30) | 269k hits

In which Prince Arthur meets Merlin and all hell promptly breaks loose.

As I always say, if this can happen to me and I still love the fic, nothing is going to change that. Arthur hides from his duties in a cupboard and gets stuck in there with a chainsmoking med student.

Fundamental Imperfections by Starlingthefool (read by bravenclawsome) M | 12k (1hr35) | 123k hits

In which an argument about Dickens leads to a Twitter scandal, broken bones, midnight conversations, and transatlantic longing. (Or, an AU with Arthur and Merlin as moderately famous authors.)

This fic has everything: Charles Dickens, long distance texting, Morgana choking a Sherlock cosplayer with his own scarf. This is the ultimate comfort fic and I compare all fics to this even when they're incomparable. I never read the sequel because it was WIP and I was waiting for it to complete, it hasn't been updated since 2015 and apparently ends on an unhappy note, so if you're going to read the sequel you have been warned.

Les Mis

Modern!AU

Overzealous Oddities by YassHomo e/R, Courf/Cosette/Marius, Comb/Ép | G | 6.4k | 4k hits

Courfeyrac: Remember when I smashed our tv and we laughed about it? Enjolras: No. Courfeyrac: Let me rephrase Courfeyrac: I've smashed our tv, lets laugh about it.

I love me a text fic and this is in my opinion the best one around. Just look at that summary. I have quoted that so many times.

But Paris was a very old city and we were young* by GingerNinjaAbi E/R, Courf/Jehan | M | 99k | 42k hits

Perhaps somewhere in between all the cups of coffee, shots of tequila, sunny March days, terrible lumpy jumpers, love, cigarettes, drunken nights and the desire to change the world they'll all leave Paris with a degree in something. Or not. Grantaire's money is on no. But he's a pessimist who's hopelessly in love, so perhaps his opinion shouldn't count.

The ULTIMATE modern!AU tbh.

Tagged by Salomonderiel E/R, Courf/Jehan | E | 155k | 28k hits

So there's this artist. He could probably be compared to Banksy, but he's a lot more... cynical. He shares rooms with a poet who braids his hair with flowers, in a flat near Covent Garden they rent from a short-tempered shop keeper with a penchant for fans and who'd do anything if you mentioned Poland. Sometimes, the three of them will go and deface public buildings in London whilst completely smashed off their heads. And then there's this, shall we say, 'revolutionary'. He has a band of other revolutionaries, who all meet at this cafe by Borough Market. He shares rooms with his best mate, a philosophy student, spends too much time with a flirty guy who has a thing for poets, goes boxing with a guy in a red vest, wants to punch the wet sop who drools on the blonde waitress and is getting tired of this guy who keep breaking his laptops through sheer dumb luck. Thank god the hypochondriac's there to keep an (slightly too) attentive eye on their stress levels. The revolutionary thinks the graffiti artist's work is a waste of space. The artist thinks the revolutionary's campaigns are a waste of time. And all the while, the poet and the flirt drool over each other in the background...

This is perfect and it's funny and it's beautiful and it rips my heart out multiple times.

Canon

To Be Free by kjack89 (read by Ceewelsh) Gen, Cosette/Marius | T | 3.8k (32mins) | 375 hits

Three blows from a bayonet had transfixed Combeferre’s breast, followed by a fall from the barricade as he rapidly lost first blood and then consciousness. But neither of these, it seemed, was enough to kill him, as much as later he might perhaps wish that they were.

I read this because it was on a list kjack89 did of their favourite fics which don't necessarily have the same hits traffic. It's nothing I would have usually read (canon era, not e/R, MCD) but I am so glad I gave it a go. It's a study on what if Combeferre had survived the barricades too and the guilt. This stayed with me for days afterwards until I eventually messaged kjack89 to get permission to podfic it.

BatFam

Canonish (I don't know differences between canons but these are all they're superheros fics)

Robins United by laceymcbain (read by reena_jenkins) Gen | T | 49k (6h15)/ 19k (2h25) (First part) | 103k hits

Bullets, knives, a three story fall, even a fucking crowbar hadn't managed to keep Jason down permanently, but Dick Grayson (and the rest of his "family") was going to kill him with kindness.

The ultimate batbros series. Also if you haven't heard reena_jenkins' podfics before, you are welcome. Pre-pandemic I took a lot of public transport and reena_jenkins kept me sane.

batcoons by drakefeathers (read by reena_jenkins) Gen | G | 6k (49mins) | 14k hits

Jason and raccoons have a lot in common. (Additionally: his so-called family are much bigger pests than the stray animals hanging around his safehouse.)

This is funny, it's heartwarming, and it's a really good character study.

Here Comes the Sun by batsy_rocks Clark/Bruce | T | 19k | 20k hits

Clark Kent is a kind-hearted reporter working in the big city. Bruce Wayne is a stressed dad of four with no idea of what he's doing. Then they meet.

Bruce Wayne is a Tired Single Dad™. It's genuinely such a sweet fic.

#fic rec #spn fic rec #merlin fic rec #les mis fic rec

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nagisasstunningpersonality · 3 years

Text

TINSITOGS, a retrospective (happy birthday)

(yes I’m like two days too late I know I’m sorry)

Why hello followers and ass class fandom, nice to see you there. I’m sure MOST people know about this, but in case you don’t, hi. On AO3 I’m better known as livixbobbiex, writer of maybe one of the most infamous Assassination Classroom fics.

Which I mean like, if you haven’t read it yet you totally should it’s fanlore at this point I promise-

Shameless plug that I don’t need aside, I felt that, on its first birthday since actual completion, I just wanted to share some things about it. Some tit bits about writing it, fun facts, maybe even some author advice TM. I appreciate that it’ll be super annoying if I do that in the tags, though, so that’ll all be under the cut. If you don’t want to read the whole post, then no matter what, thanks for the support in general!

I also want to take the opportunity to announce that I’ve reopened my discord, so if you want to talk about my fics with me (and others), you’re more than welcome to join! (the link is here)

The origin story

I’ve stated this many times, I think, but TINSITOGS was never supposed to be a serious story. Taking you back, quite a long time, it actually started in a facebook DM with a friend. We used to come up with “head canons” with each other, which were basically just very condensed fanfiction plots over a multitude of text messages. I believe I was trying to cheer her up, and I tried to come up with some kind of plot line.

At the time, I was fairly fresh to the Ass Class fandom, and I was joking about how there were no teen pregnancy melodrama fanfictions. It wasn’t that I wanted one, I just thought it was strange for a school centric anime with a bunch of ships to NOT have one. And, back then, I only really cared about karmagisa. So I just decided ‘right it’s happening’. The reason I decided to make it ABO was due to ‘it making sense’. Fun fact: it was almost written as AFAB trans Nagisa, but I decided against it as I didn’t rate my ability to handle it well back then. Looking back on it, I’m glad I made that decision.

Over around two months, writing out the plot of this story took over my life a little bit. I had no idea where I was going with it, but I was having so much fun with the drama that I decided that Karma and Nagisa shouldn’t get together soon at all, and I had a lot of fun teasing my friend with the ‘will they won’t they’. It was only when I got bored that I invented this intense drama plotline to finish it all off.

That period of time was a lot of fun. And whilst that friendship didn’t end well, I still have a lot to thank her for. She chose Daichi’s name because I had no idea, and she wanted to annoy me because I didn’t like Haikyuu. When I couldn’t decide on his hair colour, the purple was her suggestion because ‘why logic?’ Daichi speaking Korean was because of how much she liked Kpop. She even helped me choose the title of the actual fic, so there’s a lot you can thank her for, honestly.

After I finished that story, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Whenever I daydreamed, I used to think about that damn Daichi Akabane, and how much I wanted to tell his story. I’d even come up with extra stuff to fill in a lot of the gaps, and developed his character in my mind. I decided that I was really desperate to write it down. Usually that worked when I had an idea I wanted to work through.

I wrote the first chapter in late 2017, and then the next two as well. I just, kept going, and realised that I could go further still. TINSITOGS was never something that was supposed to be shared, but I decided I may as well. After all, that fated ‘teen pregnancy drama’ fic still didn’t exist, and I thought it would be funny to make it happen.

Yes, as I’ve stated publicly a few times, TINSITOGS was a crack fic. If I wanted attention from it, it was infamy. We even joked about me cursing the fandom if it ever became the most popular fic (whoops?). What I wasn’t expecting was a bunch of people, in a fandom where at the time there were NO ongoing karmagisa fics and it was pretty dead, to really seem to enjoy it. It was enough to have me keep writing it, at least. I still don’t know at what point I actually started taking it seriously, but somehow I did, and the rest is history?

The reception

In my wildest dreams, I never thought that I would be the author of one of the most popular fics in the fandom. To this day, the amount of views TINSITOGS has is insanity to me. For the record, across all platforms it’s on today it has 238,000, which is literally a number I can’t even visualise anymore. Almost quarter of a MILLION. To this day on AO3, it’s the most viewed Ass Class fic that’s an ACTUAL ass class fic (the others are multi fandom compilations). So yeah, I achieved the original goal, I guess?

Now you might be wondering, “omg the karmagisa fandom is fujoshi trash”. And, considering the origins, it is kind of funny. The thing is, though, TINSITOGS was written at incredibly good time. It was written when there were, essentially, very few long form Karma/Nagisa stories. If any other fics did get posted on occasion, they were usually just oneshots. I was also, at that point, writing very fast. A symptom of ADHD is becoming obsessively productive over certain things. Since I was able to get a 3k chapter out every few days/once a week, TINSITOGS was consistently bumped to the top of AO3′s default view. And some of those first few chapters were altered canon, and transcribing the canon dialogue didn’t take very long. The more views it got, the more people would read it out of sheer curiosity.

I think it also helps that, at least after it started getting some positive feedback (which was honestly after the pre written chapters), I purposely tried to make it ‘not terrible’. I mean, I personally think the first chapter is pretty weak and if it wasn’t somewhat iconic to a lot of people I’d rewrite it. But in general, I purposely tried to make the world of ABO my own, to make it more accessible to those who don’t like that genre, and stay away from the inherently grosser stuff as much as possible. I genuinely do get comments about how I introduced people to the genre as a whole, still not sure if that’s a GOOD thing but hey, it happened.

TINSITOGS turned into a lot more than just a joke. It turned into my favourite hobby. It turned into a research project (honestly, you would not believe the amount of mummy vlogs and legit scientific articles about child development I consumed). It turned into something that, at least I believe, was widely loved.

Meaning

I think it might be wrong to say that I don’t have AN idea of when I started to take the fic super seriously. For me, it was around the time someone commented something along the lines of saying my writing meant a lot to them, that they’d spent all night reading it and had been unable to put it down.

Not to get too dark here, but I do have a past in writing a very long, somewhat popular fic (it’s still on my fanfic net profile if anyone’s interested, but I don’t recommend it). However, in the latter part of my teenage years, the depression struck. Writing was the love of my life, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore. Maybe I’d be able to muster an idea or even a chapter at the best points of that, but I’d never completely finished any story. Starting to write again was a huge step in my recovery, and one of the reasons I convinced myself that life was worth it was being able to impact someone’s life somehow. Even to this day, I still remember the fics I read when I was, like, thirteen. How much I still remember them, and how much they meant to be at the time. I wanted to be that writer for someone else. To be honest, it was actually Yuri!!! On Ice that got me out of the super bad, but I still never wrote anything of real consequence. TINSITOGS was the first time in a long time I actually committed to something.

And, to be completely honest, there were a lot of times I was tired of it, and wanted to just quit. But, the thing was, I felt like people depended on me in a way. I got so many comments that were just FILLED with support, telling me how much they looked forward to every update. It wasn’t just empty words, either, a lot of the times these comments would be super engaged with the actual writing. I can’t even describe just how much they meant to me, how much I would look forward to reading everyone’s opinions. And then discord happened, which was a lot of fun.

TINSITOGS went a lot further than I ever thought it would. There were comments, discussions, fan art, fan FIC (which is honestly incredible to me). Someone even added it to TV Tropes, at one point. Not to mention the Cards Against Humanity deck and quiz It makes me so unbelievably happy that I could inspire that much creativity, but it’s a two way street. It was all of that which inspired me to write, too.

Writing

The only real goal I actually had was aiming for around 3000 words per chapter. I had a whole facebook log of plot points as planning, and I was mostly just trying to expand on them into prose. I honestly thought that, at its completion, the entire fic would be around 100k words, if that. Not, at one point, being literally the longest ass class fic on AO3.

There are a lot of aspects that were directly adapted from the original messages, and I tried to stay faithful to it more so at first, even if I later removed some of the pure crack. But the style was also vaguely similar, with the story being told mostly from Nagisa’s perspective with swaps to Karma when it made sense. All the main plot beats, too, are pretty much identical. The plus to this was I was able to add a lot of really fun foreshadowing, and I feel like it’s a fun reread because of it.

Honestly though, if there’s a demand to release those OG message logs, I will. Mostly because it’s kind of funny, and interesting to see. Isogai and Nagisa were engaged at one point, even.

Obviously, it changed somewhat. 3000 was the minimum length, and the time to completion was whenever it felt right. One of my big concerns was about pacing, so it took a lot more fleshing out and maybe ‘filler’ content for some of the main arcs to work.

There’s parts of TINSITOGS I don’t think aren’t written that well, and some that I’m still super proud of. I think you can definitely tell there’s a gradual shift in style, and I get a lot more comfortable with writing them as characters as it goes along. To be honest, my pride for the fic overall is what it represents.

It is funny to think about the places it got written in, though. I started it when I worked at McDonalds with no life direction, then it went through my first year of university with me. It’s been written in at least four countries. Aeroplanes, night clubs, long haul buses, a train through the Japanese southern coastline. Even the start of covid. TINSITOGS managed to see a lot. I even turned a scene in (the boat scene during the India chapter with altered names) to my university as a legitimate assignment.

There were also a few messages I wanted to achieve, once I realised I had the platform to put them across. One of them was, obviously, ‘use protection kids’. It was important to me that I didn’t glamorise it too much, and I think that came across. I also wanted to dispute some of the issues with ABO, and subvert the consent issues as much as I could. An arc I really ‘liked’ writing was how abuse doesn’t always look the same way, and that it can be a drawn out change in behaviour. How the most important part of ‘being a good parent’ isn’t perfection, but genuinely loving and doing the best you can for your kid. How love doesn’t solve everything, and effective communication can take a very long time to learn and build a functional relationship. I mean, there definitely was a lot I tried to put in, and you’re free to interpret it all how you want. But, I like to think some people learnt some of these things, at least.

Daichi

Honestly, Daichi developed almost of his own free will. I had a good idea of his appearance, and that he was smart. Writing him from birth until around nine years old (older if you read the sequel fic) pretty much allowed that fluidity. It was really fun to explore a nature vs nurture development, and let his own characteristics speak for themselves.

He’ll always have a special place in my heart.

This is the first image I ever made. When I was trying to figure out what Daichi looked like, I honestly just edited Karma’s hair (pretty well, actually? I’m impressed with my past skill). That’s where the ‘he looks just like Karma’ meme kind of came from.

This was the first image I actually created of Daichi. I THINK it was on rinmaru games mega anime creator or something, but it’s literally not available on the internet anymore as far as I can tell, so I can’t double check. This was in the pre-piccrew days. His eyes are closed because they didn’t have the right tone of goldish/silver.

His sister, Kaguya, didn’t even exist originally, even though I decided on that ending pretty early on. Actually, she was going to be called ‘Irina’ due to some hijinks. Initially, when Karma found out about Irina’s pregnancy, she was going to get super emotional and mad at him and basically force him to name his first born daughter after her. Karma agreed to shut her up, never intending to have another child, so when the surprise second child later came along they had to live with the pain. However, to be honest I just forgot to write in the actual scene that set it all up, and I decided against adding it anywhere else. The name Kaguya was a very last minute decision, and it was a chance for me to explore some ideas that didn’t fit with Daichi’s character.

Interestingly too, Daichi and Nao were never intended to be a thing. I only decided that towards the VERY end. Even though the reason I named Nao that was because of a ship I had in a J Drama (Good Morning Call). It just kind of ended up happening because I won myself over with imagining the cute.

The music

I used to write with a lot of background music, though not all the time. Particularly towards the start, there was a lot that didn’t really make sense thematically, yet I would write to a lot.

Here’s a link to the spotify playlist if you want it it’s basically all the ones I noted I’d listened to a lot. Not including the smut ones, though, I have a whole playlist for that.

Some of the notable ones:

Five String Serenade - the first scene I wrote of the entire fic, in Chapter 25 New Year Time where they fell asleep cuddling.

Cosmic Love - when I wrote Nagisa’s love confession scene in hospital (I also wrote this pretty early on)

Northern Downpour (though it was actually a cover by Emma Blackery) - The chapter after Daichi’s born (30)

When The Party’s Over - Confession Time Third Period, Chapter 69. I literally listened to this song on REPEAT when I planned and wrote the kind of ‘break up’ scene, and it’s one of the few parts that made me cry writing.

Turning Page - I know I said no smut, but this song actually gave me the idea to have the “I love you” in chapter 108 be less on a whim and actually more built up. In the original plan, Karma really did just say it without thinking. I’m glad I changed that.

Bury Me Low and Numb - pretty much all I listened to when writing the last few chapters, because Evil Nagisa core. So much so that Bury Me Low was in my top 2020 songs rewind.

As for the title, there’s actually quite a funny story. I had no idea what to call the fic, and when that happens I usually just try and find some song lyrics. I really wanted to use something from ‘October’ by the Broken Bells. Not only because it’s my favourite song (has been for years), but thematically it really worked. The issue was, it worked as the WHOLE song, there were no individual lyrics that captured everything. And, if they did, they didn’t flow very well. And naming the fic ‘October’ would have been weird for a lot of reasons. There Is No Sweeter Innocence That Our Gentle Sin really was just plucked randomly, in a desperate search to find any snappy lyrics from any song that had some kind of meaning. After a bit of discussion, we settled that it kind of worked... if Daichi is innocent and they committed a sin or something. It also wasn’t the most obvious lyric from the song (Take Me To Church if anyone doesn’t know) so I just went with it. It works out, I think, because TINSITOGS turned out to be a pretty good acronym and pronounceable word in its own right.

The merch redbubble drama

It’s a well known fact that I’m not very good at art. However, I decided to try pixel art because it seemed the easiest to not mess up. I made Karma and Nagisa, before deciding to also give Daichi a try.

This, to this day, is the only good quality art of Daichi that I actually own. The only one I’m actually happy sharing and thinking it doesn’t look terrible. As much as I love people sending me fanart, it’s not ‘my property’, right.

So, I was kind of joking about TINSITOGS having merchandise. At first I just made two funny quote things, and uploaded it to redbubble. I was never intending to actually make money from this, and I’d agreed to myself that if I did, I would just donate it to charity. I was joking with the quotes, but since I had this artwork I figured I may as well uploaded. Separately, there was also an image that had pixel Daichi next to pixel Nagisa and Karma (which I also created).

Aside from showing up in a few people’s adverts across the internet, there was no real harm with this. In fact, I didn’t make money anyway. It was just... more the joke of it existing. I did, however, buy myself a Daichi phone case, which is one of my favourite possessions.

The funny ‘drama’ comes in when they got taken down due to copywrite. Sure, the one with Nagisa and Karma, I understand. But the other three literally had no mention or anything to do with Assassination Classroom, aside from being from a fanfiction. So basically, someone who owns those rights claimed my OC as theirs. Which makes Daichi canon? Whatever the case, I found this hilarious don’t worry.

How has TINSITOGS changed my life?

This is quite a strange thing to think about. Because, in a lot of ways, it really hasn’t. As I’m sure a lot of people know, I don’t really consider myself to have any real ‘fame’, despite the impressive numbers. Whenever I tell people in my personal life, they seem to think I’m some sort of internet celebrity, but that’s never been the case for me. I mean, it’s hardly a cultural phenomenon.

In a lot of ways, I’d much rather befriend someone than have them admire me. Possibly because being someone’s inspiration is kind of weird... I’m just an awkward duck who likes to write after all. I don’t mind it, though. I genuinely find it an honour, even if I don’t necessarily agree. I also want to take this time to say that if anyone ever wants to talk or message me, you’re more than free to do so. I’m usually super casual with people who do that, I promise.

TINSITOGS was the first story I ever finished in the way I truly wanted to. Start to end, a full narrative. And it took a LOT. There were so many times I almost felt like quitting, or took super long breaks. For me, ADHD queen, actually finishing something was a huge deal. And I know I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t owe it to everyone who read it, and myself, to see it through. You know like, if I were to die tomorrow, at least I’ve left something behind.

In a lot of ways, it’s changed me for the better. It’s helped me develop my writing styles, and way of thinking. It encouraged me to become more active in the fandom, and develop some important friendships. I always feel like my Tumblr and Fanfiction ‘known’ factor is separate. I think most of my Tumblr following is more to do with my theories/Japanese context research if anything, for example, but I know I wouldn’t be so interested in that if TINSITOGS hadn’t lead me to deeply examine character and really look into analysing source material for clues. I also think there’s just... a lot of myself in it.

I was 17 years old, when I first came up with the idea. I finished the story when I was 20. Now, at the time of writing, I’m 21. That time has seen some pretty significant changes - just in general life facts and my own personal human development. For me at least, a lot of that was pretty turbulent, and TINSITOGS stands as a time capsule for that, in a way.

I know I gained a lot of confidence, and it affirmed to me that writing is what I love. Telling stories and sharing them is what I love.

Conclusion

Do I think TINSITOGS is an outstanding piece of writing, or the best fic ever? No. I really don’t. It’s strange to say because I definitely spent a lot of time on it, but it’s not like I put my full unbridled efforts into the story. I don’t fully plan, use a beta, or even read through on my own. And that’s okay - that’s not what I write fanfiction for. Fanfiction is my place to have fun with characters and stories I like, without the pressures of having to stand on my own complete originality. Yes, I’m fully confident that I can write at a “higher quality”, if I really wanted to. I’m also aware that some authors put their full effort into their fics, and that’s just as valid!

It feels odd to say this about my own writing, but I honestly think there’s just something in this story. It might not be written in the best prose ever, and the premise might be kind of dumb for a lot of people. But, I think, there’s some part of this fic that managed to grab people. Somehow, at some point, many readers get captured into the emotions and so drawn in that ‘they just have to finish it now!’ Again, I’m not sure myself how I actually achieved that. Of course, that won’t apply to everyone, but I do feel there’s some truth in it. And it makes me happy, to have caused that.

If TINSITOGS is your favourite fic, or if you genuinely think it’s the best story you’ve read, then thank you. I really appreciate your support, and I’m happy to have been a part of your life, I guess. I know how much fanfics can mean to a person, and that’s why I’m not going to take it down, or edit it at all. And it’s fine too, if you loved the fic for a while and moved on -i t happens. Whatever the case, I’m very honoured to have been able to occupy a moment of your life. Or if you find this fic in 10 years time, even, I still wholly appreciate you.

This story was incredibly important to me, and thank you for reading if it was ever important to you too.

You may ask, what now? Well, this is only intended to be a detailed look back for whoever’s interested, and it’s likely the only one I’ll actually do, a year after completion. Of course, if you ever want to ask me anything or just discuss the story, you’re honestly good to contact me in whatever way I have available.

I’m still writing my ongoing stories, of course, despite taking a small break due to the university work load. I fully intend to complete the stories I’ve already started to tell, at least. After that... I’m not sure if I’ll still write fanfiction. Don’t panic, this isn’t a ‘I’m quitting writing’ thing. I may, however, have bled the Karmagisa genre a bit too dry at that point. Who knows? I am pretty interested in writing something original for once, so maybe that’ll work out.

For now, at least, thank you to anyone who read this fic. To anyone who commented, liked, or interacted with me over it. To anyone who created or learnt from it. I’m really glad that I got to share this story with you all, and ultimately left some kind of mark, no matter how big or small.

Happy birthday, TINSITOGS. I had a lot of fun writing you.

#ass class #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #tinsitogs #karmagisa

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alch3mic · 3 years

Text

in between. (drabble series)

chapter four (stitches.)

captain!sans x gender neutral reader. 3k+ word count.

please be advised for themes of anxiety, ideas of loss, depression, and self esteem.

* finally at the fourth chapter with our dear fellswap sans, captain! he also has no official fic yet but has his own tag here on my tumblr if you’d like to know more about him! thank you and i hope you enjoy!

A project.

That's all this was meant to be.

Something to keep him preoccupied in his free time, now that he seemed to have more time on his hands than he knew what to do with.

Somewhere to put his focus, instead of thinking about things.

Instead of stressing about things.

Instead of.. worrying about.. 'things'.

Like this.. 'thing'.. attached to him.

...

"ya can't just keep pacin' around bro."

Sure he could.

He could pace around as much as he wanted. It was his boat dammit, and he'd walk around it as he pleased, from the bow to the stern, topside and back.

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

No.

How could he? There was work to be done.

All his life he had filled himself with his work. It was all he knew.

Work.

Work

Work.

Work

From his time as a child, working to take care of his younger brother to ensure he was brought up properly to his time in the royal guard working hard every day to support them and make sure they both survived that horrid Underground. Even on the surface he worked and worked and worked, to regain his position as a monster worthy of fear and respect after the humans had stripped them of everything and leaving them to rot like strays on the street.

Every minute of every day he worked.

Most days he even dreamed of it.

Which is exactly why it was so difficult to sit still, even at your request.

"You really should just take it easy, Sans. Didn't Undyne say to not stress yourself out?"

She did, but it didn't matter.

He was in a constant state of being stressed.

Stressed was how he operated.

Stressed was all he knew.

His body could never give him the pleasure of just 'taking it easy', constantly buzzing, constantly wanting to be in motion. At times he envied his brother for being able to let things go and just kick back, but... that was exactly why he worked so hard wasn't it?

So that his brother could relax without a worry in that thick skull of his..?

Of course.. he knew Papyrus went through his own troubles.. it's just...

Gah.

This free time was now filling his head with unnecessary thoughts, even as he tried his best to busy himself by patrolling his own boat.

..Which was only adding to his stress...

"Lets try a hobby. What do you normally do for fun?"

Think of you.

Well..

He didn't have to now that you were here with him.

He could just spend time with you instead of daydreaming about it.

And he did.

You humored him by relaxing together topside with him and Papyrus, enjoying the salty breezes of the ocean and the warm summer rays. The two of you would chat in his bed for hours, laughing and telling stories of the past as you laid close. You'd help him, by offering an arm when he wore himself out or when he needed help doing something that required two hands. Everything from opening jars to preparing dinner or even tying his shoes.

It was..

Ah, dammit it was so humiliating.

..And also made him strangely happy?

He was.. happily humiliated?

..Humbled?

..Stars.

He never had anyone taken care of him before, so his pride was taking a major blow every time you offered to help. A part of him was glad you'd always ask first so he'd at least get to attempt at doing it by himself but.. it was also humiliating to give in. He was too stubborn for his own good, never having anyone extend a hand for him neither below ground or on the Surface.

Still you never seemed bothered.

You never batted an eye when he'd turn to you. Sometimes all it took was a look from him and you just knew, without having any words be spoke. Having that kind of connection was..

Incredible.

It had been something the both of you had obviously over the years, but only now it was showing itself in the mundane parts of your lives now that you were with him. Normally it had been when you locked eyes in a fight in the streets of Ebott, and he could see the whole encounter play out in his mind. How you'd swing, how he'd shoot. How you both would nearly hit each other both on purpose and on accident.

Like a dance with death only the two of you could perform.

And how beautifully you danced for him..

Now.. having that connection manifest positively, in quiet agreements and silent conversations that took only seconds to have, really drove home the fact that times have changed.

That he was no longer the skeleton he was before.

He had you now, which was different.

You were his.

And he was yours.

Though.. in truth you always had a part of soul with you even if you never realized it.

And he always had Papyrus by his side.

That could never change.

But now.. he also had..

That.

The 'thing'.

An arm.

That.. didn't belong to him.

It was attached, sure, but..

It was foreign.

Heavy.

A burden.

It was consequences of his actions taken form of something that use to be, but no longer was. Like a cruel symbol of mockery, forever attached to his own broken body. There was nothing but the tickling of a sensation of pain, like a phantom dancing across his bones, from a limb that was no longer there. The magic in his scapula hummed louder than the rest of his body, always catching his attention as it had been enhanced to support the weight of his new arm. It was irritating and constant, like a buzz he couldn't be rid of no matter how loud his thoughts were or tried to be.

Always there.

Always ringing in his skull.

It was driving him crazy, adding to the mounting stress.

"FOR FUN? EASY. TRAP MAKING. ANALYTICS. READING THE STOCKS AND NEWS."

"Well that's depressing."

"STAYING INFORMED IS IMPORTANT, DARLING."

"And so is your mental health, Sans. Ignoring this won't make it go away you know."

The metallic hand closed on a reflex when he felt your gaze upon it.

He didn't like it, despite how incredible Undyne's work was. She had studied him for weeks while he recovered in her intensive care, all so she could make an exact replica of his now missing arm. It looked just like the real thing only casted in asatollite, a type of metal found in the Underground that could conduct magic. No wires. No heavy plating. Just an arm, moved by his own magic.

An impressive feat really, but he felt no pride in this.

..Only shame.

As someone who had lived their life known for cutting it close time and time again, this was now all the proof someone needed that they could actually lay their hands on him. There was a chance that someone could hit and do some serious damage.

For some, that would be enough to push their determination over the edge.

The proof that he couldn't dodge forever.

And here it was, glinting under the soft afternoon sunlight that filtered into his quarters.

This... was his decline wasn't it?

..He could feel it in his bones.

Here marked the end of his reign of terror as Captain, the scarred skeleton who ruled the docks of Ebott City with an iron fist. Now that once unrelenting grip which strangled the life of rats out of the marine failed to even grasp a pen properly.

It stung in such a strange way that he almost didn't know how to describe it.

It was a unsightly fall from grace, paired with happiness and misery.

He was muddled with complicated feelings that really didn't have proper words, and so instead of spending his days thinking about it while lying in bed, he paced around his ship.

"Is there anything you've ever wanted to learn?"

He only learned what was necessary.

Languages to properly communicate with associates, skills like learning to shoot with a gun so that he could avoid having his magic traced back to him, and cooking so he could make sustainable meals when he and Papyrus had nothing..

They weren't things he did for fun, they were necessary.

What else could he learn that was necessary?

"HOW ABOUT TEACHING ME TO CUT A BULLET LIKE YOU DID BACK IN THE 'SISCO EXCHANGE."

"I'm not teaching you that."

"AND WHY'S THAT?"

"I don't need to make you any more dangerous than you already are you bonehead. I meant something fun! Like.. maybe a sport?"

"I THROW DARTS. I ALSO SHOOT."

"I.. Okay I guess that counts," you said, glancing to the wall of his quarters where the board was set up.

It's true it was a dart board hanging on the wall, but it was littered with photos of thugs and politicians, a dart neatly nailed through their head. It honestly looked like more of an omen of things to come rather than a hobby.

"Anything else?"

...

"I PLAYED THE VIOLIN FOR A SHORT WHILE."

"You did?"

"YES. BACK IN THE UNDERGROUND. I FOUND ONE IN THE DUMP AND TAUGHT MYSELF TO PLAY WHEN I DISCOVERED PAPYRUS LIKED THE WAY IT SOUNDED. IT WOULD HELP PUT HIM TO SLEEP ON SOME OF THE ROUGHER NIGHTS."

"Aww. Maybe you could think about picking it back up. I'd love to hear you play!"

He would, eventually.

For right now.. the task seemed so daunting now that he had..

...That.

"..But maybe not yet."

Another silent conversation, passed by only the glint in his eyesocket. Once again he was glad he didn't have to openly admit he might struggle with learning something like that again but.. a small pass of shame also washed over him. He'd love to play for you, to maybe even create his own music to reflect the feelings you gave him in his soul, but to move this metallic.. 'thing'.. to play would be..

He'd become frustrated, just like with everything else.

"AND WHAT DO YOU DO TO RELAX MY DEAR?"

"Me? I usually sew or knit."

Right. Costumes. That’s why you asked to have your own space in that free room on the ship. You had mentioned it once before, how you use to do costuming back in the day for plays and helped your father who worked as a tailor until...

Hm.

"YOU SELL YOUR PIECES DON'T YOU?"

"Just to a few people. I make dresses for Mr. Rose's granddaughter and Rumpelstiltskin still orders some pieces for his wife. I also send some more elaborate stuff the Prince's way every once in awhile and I even still get requests from Mama Bear even after they disappeared off into the forest. I think they might finally have a Baby Bear on the way because they asked about knitting a little blanket a few days ago."

...

He.. tried to not humor the thought of just sailing away from this city with you, like that lucky bastard did with his spouse when he took off into the woods. Of course he couldn't, he knew Papyrus would stay here with Happy and he'd never want to be far from his brother.

Still...

It was a tempting idea.

"I could always teach you. It's a pretty good skill to just learn how to hand stitch to mend clothing and it really isn't too complicated."

He relented ...of course.

Because he always did to you, with that smile on your face and the hum in your tone.

.....

Learning from you had been everything he hoped for, with you sitting close to him as you taught him how to thread a needle. You were patient with him as he struggled, his hand shaking as he did his best to will his magic to move. You were gentle as you taught him to stitch carefully and slowly, following along side as you guided him every step of the way.

...He'll never forget the way you laughed at his first pass though.

He had been so damn.. angry!

Really, you had the nerve to laugh even when he did his best!

You were the worst, which is why exactly he had to pin you down and tickle you until you couldn't breathe. At least he could use that wretched metal arm to press your hands above your head as you desperately tried to wrestle out of his hold until you were flushed and gasping for breath.

His next attempt was alone late at night, when even the stars on the deck above couldn't quell his thoughts. They ran wild in his head, stampeding and thrashing about.

At his failures.

At his mistakes.

At the humming in his shoulder and the arm that ached despite not being there. So he tried to not think about it as he quietly threaded the needle under the dim yellow lights in his quarters. The quiet creak and groan of the boat was his only accompaniment along your soft breathing from the bed as you peacefully slumbered away.

In and out.

He timed his stitches with your breaths, pushing the needle through the felt and then back again as he sewed the two pieces of scrap fabric together. It was strange how difficult this was, willing his fingers to move while simply pushing and pulling a needle. His jaw would tense as his hand shook at times and failed to grasp the needle, and then he'd hear you let out a sigh and he'd relax again.

In and out.

Until the stitch was done.

Until he hushed the wild thoughts in his head and put his stress to bed.

Until he could no longer deny himself your company and he'd fall back to your side, finally delving into the depths of sleep.

He spent many days and nights like this, a fire ignited in his soul to hear your praise the first time.

"Seems like your stitched are getting tighter. Nice work there, Cap."

That was all he needed.

Your words. Your smile. The exigent that reflected in your beautiful eyes. You were proud of him, and it made him work all the harder as he sat with you in the room you had taken for your sewing. This place had been your sanctuary, something he once avoided entering to at least give you a little room for yourself on the ship, but now he found reassurance in it as well.

The whir of your sewing machine had become a comfort, able to drown out the buzz in his head as he worked beside you. Soft colorful fabrics lined the shelves in the wall and a half finished dress would decorate a mannequin or two. The both of you would drink coffee and chit chat as he tried to get lost in the motions of hand stitching pieces of scrap fabric together.

He didn't want to constantly strain himself to move his arm.

He wanted it to be natural.

He wanted to use his hand without a second thought.

He wanted it to be like..

How it use to be.

But it could.. never really be like it use to be.

And he struggled and struggled and struggled.

In the weeks that had dragged by, both you and Papyrus had picked up small gigs to help patch the hole his injury was leaving.

Sans was... or had been.. the bread maker.

He always prided himself on providing by running the docks, able to keep his rather lavish lifestyle alive by delivering cargo from overseas to sellers like the Fell brothers and the other croons of this city, but the two of you had insisted on him resting, so his businesses and trades had all but halted.

You were still far off from ever putting a dent in his savings, but the two of you worked regardless to ease his stress.

..Because somehow, even having the back up funds prepared for events like this, didn't stop Sans from stressing.

The only part that annoyed him about it was that you had less time to teach him. You focused more on your commissions, so Sans would leave you in peace to your quiet room and stitch in his quarters.

He hadn't really decided what he wanted to work towards from stitching. It had simply become a tool to help train his fingers, so now that he could sew what was he suppose to do with the skill?

...

....

.....

It was a quiet afternoon in his quarters, the low hum of a forgotten radio on his desk as a deep voice rattled off the daily news mixed with a garble of static. Being so far out into the marine meant the reception wasn't good, but he could pick up key terms as the voice drawled on. Another murder on the west side, some more fights in the south and some re-election news. Not like it mattered who was in charge these days. The faces changed but at the end of the day these suits always lined their pockets with bloodied dollar bills. This city was rotted to it's core, just like it's people, and it'd stay that way until it was burned to the ground.

Sans' eyelights drifted down to the book in front of him.

'Stuffed Plushies For Beginners!'

The title almost felt condescending, just like the colorful pictures and simple wording that decorated each page. He still couldn't help but twist his frown deeper at the fact that you bought him a children's book of all things, paired with that sharp little grin of yours and that infectious laugher. It had been too much.. Which is why he snatched the damn thing out of your hands when you gave it to him.

"To help decide what you want to do with your new skill! Maybe you can finally make something instead of just stitching scraps together you dork."

He would never turn down a challenge, especially from you, and he was eager to have your approval again.

"AND WHAT EXATLY SHOULD I SEW?"

"Just pick something you're interested in and sew it. They have a lot of animals in there! You do at least like one kind of animal, don't you?"

Dogs, because they were loyal.

Cats, because they could fend for themselves.

Birds, because of their freedom.

But making something based of them didn't quite appeal to Sans.

'Basic Plushie Pattern.'

...

"hey bro, i wanted to ask- oh my stars."

"AH-!" Sans inhaled, squeezing the doll in his grasp and nearly tearing at it with his claws. "YOU-! WOULD YOU KNOCK!?"

"you actually made a plushie of them. wow," his brother hummed, "and here i thought your obsession couldn't get any wo-"

WHOOMPH.

The pillow made direct contact with Papyrus' face, earning a laugh from the taller skeleton. Sans barked out a few more insults as his brother continued to giggle, admiring what he had finished so far.

It.. looked like crap.

Some of the stitches were lopsided and others weren't uniform, but he wanted to see this through before his frustrations got the better of him. So with some encouragement from Papyrus he kept at it, finishing the body and then attaching the head.

"Pahahaha! Captain!"

"WHAT!?"

"You! Ehehe! You-! Of.. of me!"

"LOOK, JUST TELL ME IT'S TERRIBLE SO I CAN BE RID OF THE ACURSED THING ALRIGHT?"

"No! No. Absolutely not! I'm keeping this forever and you can never take it away from me!"

He gritted his teeth and attempted to wrestle the doll from your grasp but to no avail. You hugged it close and refused to relent, calling it precious and a testament to his efforts.

All of his hard work..

To a doll..

That looked like you.

"Are you going to make one of you?" you asked, letting out a few breaths as he finally gave up trying to grab the doll from your grasp.

"AND WHY WOULD I DO THAT?"

"Well I don't want them to be lonely."

...

How could he... ever argue with that.

So begrudgingly he sewed again, this time now more aware than ever of that 'thing' as it worked meticulously to create a replicate of itself. The doll's left arm, sewn together with a deep gray metallic fabric, now shared the same shame he did.

...

Strangely enough, it suited him.

...

"They look cute together."

"ONE ON THE RIGHT HAS SEEN BETTER DAYS."

"I still think he's pretty cute. He's trying his best, after all."

Well.. he certainly couldn't argue with that either.

#look at that!#we made it!#cap's is a lil' more fluffier than the others so i hope you guys enjoy it!#captain!sans #sans #undertale #fellswap #fellswap sans #undertale fic #yandere sans #long post #fic #fanfiction #drabble #anxiety tw #depression tw #alch!writes #inbetween!fic

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fighterkimburgess · 3 years

Note

F, H & P :)

Asks are from this post

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

So I can't share my ACTUAL favourite scene, because it's from Unintentional (and almost at the end at that, so it's not gonna come out till November). But I do love this one.

“Yeah. And that’s a shit thing for you to have to deal with.”

“A shit thing is my brother throwing a punch at me when he’s angry and I can’t help. Like you said, we don’t agree on everything. I’m not the magical guy who’s gonna pull you back from the edge. But you’re my brother. We’re family. Kim’s my sister, that lil girl may as well be my niece. You need to do better for her. Even if it’s not me telling you to, it needs to be for her.”

“I know.” The two words were short, but Adam’s voice broke saying it. “I’m so fucking ashamed of everything I did while she was missing. I’m ashamed of my reaction, of what I did in that house. I shouldn’t have been allowed help. I should have been sent home. I was too close. And I get that now, but…I hit you. I threw a punch at you and I tried hurting you. Fucking Jay and Hailey had to split us up. And you’re being understanding and I feel like you should be yelling at me.”

“What good would that even do?”

“Make me feel like shit because I deserve it?”

It's from Recovery, and it's my version of the scene between Adam and Kevin that needs to happen after 8x16. I worked so, so hard on it, it went through probably the most rounds of rewrites any writing I've ever done did. Like I'm a white person, I'm not exactly the person who should be writing this scene. But I'm really proud of how it went and the response it got. (And honestly Reese is owed so much of the credit for this)

H: How would you describe your style?

Descriptive angst. I find it hard to write long chapters. I try to make sure chapters are at least 3k, because I really prefer longer chapters to read myself, and sometimes I'm pushing myself to hit that 3k. I wish I was one of those people who took five words instead of one.

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

I'm both! If it's a multichapter fic I need to have an outline before I publish. My outlines are generally a vague chapter count, and what will happen in each of those chapters that adds up to the whole thing. For oneshots, they usually come from a germ of an idea and I keep that as the core of my idea, and build around that. For The Almost Fathers Club it came from the idea that we saw Herrmann with Gabby when she had the miscarriage, and I totally saw him talking to Matt about it. And then the two of them talking to Adam and making him realise he's not the only one who's dealt with it. I love that fic so much.

Send me a letter and I'll answer the fanfic question

#cíara answers #ask games

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nosferatyou · 3 years

Text

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 5 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: Shes back in Nashville and Ben finally drags Lee out to a Third Man show. To Lee’s surprise, she runs into an old friend...

WC: 3k

Warnings: Cigarettes, maybe cursing (?), and death by Jack White.

Notes: Damn y’all its my best chapter to date. Honestly im pretty damn proud of this. Also why is jack white so damn hard to write. Is he a hard ass with a heart of gold, or a dad who happens to play guitar. When i figure it out ill let you know. PS. If you find my fic reference (or fic rec for anyone who hasn’t read it) shoutout to you. If youre anything like me you read the whole series in two days and couldn’t think about anything else. You probably also looked up Rosaries for sale.

This was 14 years in the making. We were bound to run into each other again. I was expecting it in a weird way. It always works out that way; you get over old turmoil, and the moment it’s gone, they show up. Your breath is sucked from your lungs, and you’re practically drowning on the spot even though you’re not even near water. Every single emotion in your being is trying to cram through your mouth, and you end up choking on it. Who knew it’d be today I die a death by Jack White. Guess I ran that risk when I entered his stomping grounds.

“Lee, I swear I didn’t know he’d be here. I wouldn’t have brought you if I’d known. I’m gonna buy you any record in the store, whatever you want. Oh god, how am I going to fix this? Guess I could do emergency distraction plan #6. Though id need a knife-” I subtly flicked the back of his arm to shut him up. His panicked ramblings were only making me more nervous. He was here, actually here. I guess I just thought I'd have a couple more years of peace.

He was staring so intensely at me, but not in anger or guilt. He was nervous. He was frozen and rigid. He was always so loose and eased into a room. Even when he was anxious, it never showed. As soon as I gained something from the absolute shock of it, all my body went against my brain. I felt my legs start to make their way over to him shakily, and there was no stopping them. Fuck I didn’t will this happen. Panic was bubbling up in my chest again. It didn’t help that he wasn’t reacting other than his eyes growing larger with each step I took. Finally, I reached him, and my arms tightly wrapped around him. This was better than the alternative that I thought would happen, which would end with a shiner and some bruised knuckles. He hadn’t grown length, but as I finally felt it all, I realized he'd grown into a man, out of his boyish figure from all those years ago. I sank into it, warm feelings bubbling up in my chest. I could finally breathe for a moment. He didn’t reciprocate my hug, but I met his eyes when I looked up at him, and all I could see was pure shock. I don’t think he would’ve moved if someone yelled fire.

He mumbled, “Why don’t we find somewhere a little more private to talk, Rosie.” I quickly nodded my head, and all that anxiety came back as soon as it was gone. I did not appreciate this little roller coaster I was on. He put his hand on my back to softly guide me to wherever we were going. It was a painfully silent walk as we weaved through Third Man. My brain kept flashing back to all the moments of our short end, mixing with all the good memories it made for a weird emotional cocktail. The more I thought about how little time we’d actually known each other, I got even more panicked. A year. That’s it, and I still acted like we were childhood friends who wronged each other. I shouldn’t be feeling all of this over a man who had such little time in my life. Still, that doesn’t change that he was at the forefront of my mind for all those years after. God, his hand was burning me where it lay.

I hadn’t realized we’d made it to the spot until his words broke my thoughts. “Welcome to the Third Man roof, my secret spot, if you will.” I looked up to see a couple of lawn chairs and a crate between them, acting as a makeshift table. Cigarette butts strewed around the chair farthest from the edge. Jack was already walking towards what I assumed to be his chair. In tow, I followed, pulling my pack out of my pocket and lighting a cig. If this was going to happen, I was going to need a goddamn cigarette. He grimaced at the sight of Marlboros, pulling out his pack. Red Camels, still the same all these years later. Somethings just don’t change. Guess that’s comforting.

“I thought you were a camels girl. What happened there?” He was already reaching for another to hand to me.

“Oh, just had to settle when on tour for whatever others had. It just stuck, I guess…” A lie. I put mine out on the ground when I sat down and grabbed the nostalgic camel out of his hand, our fingers barely touching.

We sat in silence, smoking a piece of our past. I sure as hell didn’t know where to start, and I don’t think he did either. My body took over just as it had before and did what I couldn’t manage. I was blurting out words before I knew what was happening.

I stumbled out, “I bought all your records over the years.” Smooth.

A small smile fell onto his face, and he took another drag. “I did the same thing.” He looked over at me, quickly looked me over, then took a quick drag and put it on on the ground. “Have a favorite?”

I pretended to think like I hadn’t thought of having a favorite. “I guess I’d have to say Consolers of the Lonely, but if we’re talking The Stripes, I’d have to say De Stijl. Though I always feel like I should say your first, since you know, I’m on it.” I sent a small smile his way and started to ease into my seat more. Not sitting up so straight, ready to bolt at any moment. “What about you, Jack? Hm? Have a Rosalie Wright favorite?”

He answered without hesitation, “Surrender. I really liked that sound you had in 2004, where you got dirty and loud. It was a big change from your old blues tone. Someone told me it was because you moved to New Jersey, which honestly makes sense.” He stopped for a second and looked off. “That band, Leathermouth. When that album dropped, I played it when I was working in the upholstery shop, and Karen walked in. She turned right around after hearing, I think... My love has gone flat? I don’t know, but she asked me if I was doing okay at dinner that night.” He quietly laughed to himself, thinking over the memory.

“Anyone who wasn’t in the band asks me the same thing! They all said, “Hey, your new albums great! How are you doing? You need someone to talk to?” My smile fell. “Too bad all the guys found god. Nothing against that, of course! Just sucks they had to quit the band. Not Frankie, though. He wouldn’t find god even if he came to him on a piece of toast. I’d probably take some freak case of Stigmata for him even to consider it… Why am I still talking?” I blushed, realizing I'd been rambling too long about nothing that probably interested him

Jack waved his hand in the air to dismiss my worries. “We’ve got years to catch up on, Rosie. Besides, I’ve missed your ramblings.” He lit two more cigs, handing one over to me. His stare lingered on me, and his eyes softened from his stoic face. “I really have missed you, Rosie… All these years and I’m still not quite sure what you’ve been up to. I’ve only heard things here and there from Ben.” He took a long drag. “Where have you been all this time?”

I took a deep breath in, knowing the answer wouldn’t be the best. I spent a fair amount of drinking myself into oblivion over something he caused, so I kept my answer brief, “Oh, you know, toured, drank, slept in fans and friends basements. You know, a typical musician’s life. Oh! Got put on the FBI watchlist over a Leathermouth song. That was a fun night for Frankie and me.”

He chuckled, put out his cig, and turned his body towards me. The same warm smile was adorning him. As I said, some things just don’t change. “I mean, I don’t know what you expected when you play a song with that title. It’s one of the only things you legally can’t say.”

“Punk is punk, Jack. Too bad I was only playing guitar. I would’ve loved to scream that.” I put my cig out and put all my attention towards him. I hadn’t thoroughly looked at him the whole time we were up there. “It was hard not to stay caught up with you, Jack. You were everywhere. I tried not to pry, though. I never trusted the press. Though I heard about the divorce last year… I’m sorry you had to go through that again.”

His smile faltered, and he stared down at his hands for a second. “It was inevitable. We were too different for it to last. I guess this shit always happens for a reason, huh? We just fell out of love, and that was that. I had a party to commemorate new friendships and everything. At least she can’t hide my Billie Holiday records now…” He trailed off on that last sentence. I could barely hear it, but I caught the small comment. He still thought about me. I didn’t mention it though. I could barely think back to the old memories. Me making him dance with me to Billie Holiday's self titled album. I guess I just wanted to feel like we were really together back then, creating that fantasy. I felt like I had to wave my imaginary hands around in my head to clear out the memories that had risen to the surface. He was making it so hard to have a clear head.

We stayed quiet for a moment. He seemed lost in his thoughts. We were always good at comfortable silences. I think we just liked being in each other’s presence, having that person next to you. It was weird to think that I only had these old images of him to think back to. He looked so different. He was built, his face filled out, his height would make him look skinnier than he was back then. He’s muscular, probably from years of touring with heavy equipment. He looked his age. His eyes hadn’t changed though. His face was almost menacing for how serious it naturally rested. His eyes stayed bright, excited for everything ahead of him. He always hid that, and he probably still does.

“I’m sorry, Rosie. For everything that happened. It was selfish of me to -” I cut him off. This was for another day. I don’t think I could handle drudging up the past tonight.

“Make it up to me some other time. I just want to enjoy you tonight.” I sent a smile his way and went to stand up. “Better make it good though.” I went to lean against the wall to take in the Nashville skyline I missed so much.

I heard the gravel crunch underneath his shoes as he made his way next to me. His lighter clicked, and the sweet smell of tobacco filled the air. Moments later, he appeared next to me, cigarette in hand, ready for me to take. He clicked his lighter on and offered it out for me to light. I leaned in close and took a heavy drag. My eyes caught his left hand, cupping around the flame. No ring. It really was done, no lingering feelings. I moved back to lean against the small wall, leaning my head against my hand. I tried not to focus on the emotions that stirred in me when I noticed the absent metal on his finger.

“I really did miss this. Detroit was beautiful, but it never could beat the Nashville skyline. Maybe I was just missing home.” I finally got to take in the scenery around us. September in Nashville has never really been cold. I feel like I should be worried about that, but if I can avoid a sweater, I will. It was a comfortable kind of warm. You could sit out on your porch and not think about a thing. The small breeze was nice, taking away from the constant humidity. Then there was that constant. It never felt like Nashville’s downtown ever changed from far away. It was just stuck in time. The deeper you go, the more you realize the magic of music city is being taken over by honky tonks and drunk bachelorettes. Though the farther you drift away, the more you can feel like you're in the good ole days of classic Nashville. Back when the Ernest Tubb Record Shop didn't have a constant flow of Lynyrd Skynyrd cover bands but had undiscovereds like Loretta. Now you just have to settle for the sights and the small music scene curated by The End.

“Is it bad I feel the same way? Even if it’s not home home, it still feels like it. I think the skyline reminded me of coming home after long tours. It’s always the first thing you see. It’s a comfort.”

We weren’t touching technically, but our shoulders were so close I could feel it. I think he was deliberately keeping his space. I should be mad or angry. Something. But the feeling of him next to me was just as calming as the views. That same feeling of home lulling you in. He always felt like that to me. That dumb warm feeling in your chest that makes heavier days just a little lighter. It’s a bit shameful that I feel it all now, just as strong as back then.

“You know the only reason I came tonight is because Ben told me you wouldn’t be here. Something about your kids,” I took a drag. “Not that I regret coming! I just- Kids. How fucking weird is that? Never pictured you with kids. I always saw you as the same lanky kid from before.”

He snorted and bumped my shoulder with his own. “You know I found it odd you never had any. I mean, you were always weirdly maternal with Ben back when he was a teenager. You about took my head off when I told you I gave him a couple of beers. Oh, and those times I practically had to rip Jasper out of your arms after we got home from one of our first tours.”

“He was 16! His brain wasn’t fully formed yet, plus your mom would’ve murdered you.” I gave his arm a small playful hit and took another drag. “And I just haven’t had the time. Or the means to. I mean, I dated like two guys? Both were shit bag roadies who lasted all of two weeks. I kissed Frankie once, but the moment it ended, we about threw up. He’s a different kind of family. His kids call me Auntie Lee if that says anything.”

The conversation ended at that, and we fell back into our silence. I looked over and saw a small, content smile on his face that I was so used to seeing. Some things just don’t change.

It feels weird sitting here with him. We both were so happy to see each other. We just wanted to enjoy this time. At least, I think he’s the same way. He seems guarded, it’s subtle, but that wall is there. He used to be like this, but for different reasons. Secret wife reasons. I can only assume that now it’s the fame he’s been showered with. You can't show all your feelings with recognition like that. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him checking his watch. He muttered out shit when seeing the time.

Exasperatingly he said, “Speaking of kids, I’ve got to get home. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I promised Scarlett I'd be home to say goodnight.”

My smile faltered a little, but my heart grew at the comment about scarlet. He’s always loved so hard. It was only natural that he would be a good father.

We both put out our cigs and silently made our way out to where his car parked. I just mindlessly followed along, definitely not thinking about him and how wonderful he probably was with his kids.

When we got there, we just kind of stood there. Neither of us knew how to say goodbye. It was never something we did.

“I’m really glad I got to see you tonight, Rosie. Seriously.”

My body betrayed me, just like it had in the recording room. I quickly moved forward and hugged him tightly, except this time, I could enjoy it a little more. His frame was so warm compared to the chilly September night. He finally wrapped his arms around me and practically threw himself into the embrace. He had no hesitation whatsoever. I nuzzled my face into his chest, a bit too shamelessly, but this was 14 years in the making.

When we finally (and hesitantly) pulled away, he asked, “ Listen, I don’t think I can just walk around town knowing you’re here and not see you. Can we get coffee or something? I don’t care what we do as long as it’s with you.”

I felt a giant smile fall onto my face. I was afraid this whole time we would just kind of say goodbye and not talk again. It was dumb to feel so happy over a small gesture, but it was just what I was looking for. He was infectious back then, and he is. Once you fall back into his circle, you never wanted to leave. “I’ll agree to coffee only if,” I gave him a playful poke in the side, “you help me fix my amp. I can usually do it, but I really did a number on her this time.” I held out my hand for him to shake. It’s not a deal if you don’t shake on it.

“It’s a date then.” A small smile appeared on his face, and he grabbed my hand to shake it.

“It’s a date.” We stood their just shaking hands and smiling at each other. We probably looked insane from far away, but who cares. Me and Jack were on the road to reasonable terms.

Tag list: @shamoane @elinyaes

#jack white #the white stripes #nosferatyou writes #if i can be so bold fic #if i can be so bold #the raconteurs #leathermouth #frank iero #UHV reference #can you tell that ive hyper fixated on frank as well #its obvious i know #gotta slide him into my works somehow #also they really got to cut down on the cigs #the bastards #also ben whats the distraction plan number 6 #im curious #and as i always say #bet Jack is a bottom #bet you like 5 bucks and the little clay mushroom house i made

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simkjrs · 4 years

Text

fic: see you in the dark

chapter i: a troublePSIme development

saiki kusuo no psi nan x worm web serial | saiki kusuo & taylor hebert | 3k

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Psychic power. For instance… hearing other people’s thoughts, or seeing what’s on the other side of a wall, or even manipulating objects through power of will alone. A power to do what normal people can’t. That’s what I have.

My name is Saiki Kusuo, and I am an esper.

Q: Are you a chuunibyou?

A: No.

I’ve lived with this power my whole life. Some of you might be thinking, “How lucky! With that kind of power, you could do anything you want!” Wrong! Do you know how annoying it is to always be hearing people’s thoughts, or constantly seeing through skin and muscle until everyone simply looks like walking sacks of bones? Not to mention each power comes with its own downsides too. Read the manga if you want to learn more. In any case, having psychic power has done nothing but inconvenience me since the moment of my birth, and is barely any help in my pursuit of my dream to live a completely ordinary life.

That said, thanks to my psychic powers, nothing bad has ever really happened to me, so I don’t really have anything to complain about.

Well, there is one thing.

“Saiki. How did your part of the project go last night?”

As I haven’t brainwashed the people of this world into ignoring me speaking directly to their minds with telepathy, I can only respond through physical gesture or by speaking with my actual voice. I don’t particularly care to do the latter, so I simply nod in greeting.

Here, Hebert. Take this packet of papers with all my work so you can look over it and calm down your paranoia about me ruining your grades, and so I don’t have to speak.

As you may have guessed, the one speaking to me is named Hebert. Taylor Hebert, to be exact. Since this is a story and not a manga or anime, I’ll describe her for you. She’s tall for her age, thin, and has long, curly black hair. As for her facial features… She probably has a wide mouth, but I wouldn’t know, since my X-ray vision is always on and looking at anyone for longer than a second means I start seeing through their skin down to their muscle and bone. Thanks to that I’ve never bothered to memorize people’s faces very closely. I can identify them by their thoughts anyways.

So why are you complaining about Hebert? you might be asking. Is she a bad school partner? Does she smell bad? Does she have a romantic inclination for you that you can’t maneuver your way out of no matter how hard you try, like a certain blue-haired perfect pretty girl loved by God?

None of the above. There’s nothing wrong with Hebert herself. She’s capable, diligent, and introverted, which suits a shy and withdrawn student like me. No, the problem is the trouble that she comes with.

Here they come, right on cue. Hess has walked by and bumped Hebert just a little too hard, almost jostling the papers out of her hands. None of that, now. I’ll help Hebert keep ahold of them with a little telekinesis. I worked hard on those papers, you know. No knocking them down.

“Oops, sorry, we didn’t see you there, Taylor,” says Barnes sweetly. “I guess we just didn’t notice you, what with how plain and ugly your clothes are…”

And there they go, starting up with one insult after another. They’re not even very good insults. Well, carry on a bullying campaign for a year and a half and you’ll eventually run out of material, I suppose. It’s still quite annoying to hear themselves congratulating themselves for a job well done with each insult, though. Like this, with Barnes…

<Hehe. The look on her face. She’s totally self conscious about how she looks, now. I wonder if she’ll go cry in the bathroom later?>

That’s not something you should be proud of, you know. The level of self-congratulation sure is amazing. Actually, what’s more amazing is how shamelessly they bully Hebert right in front of others. I’m right here, you know? Not that I want them to notice me, but it’s the principle of the matter.

I shift in my seat slightly, which successfully draws their attention away from Taylor for a moment.

“Oh, sorry, Saiki,” Barnes says. “Were we interrupting a moment between you two?” Yes, our homework consultation time. “Nah, who am I kidding? No one would ever get together with flat-chest over here.” What’s the big deal about the size of someone’s chest? One mass of fat and muscle is basically the same as another; if there’s a little more or less, who cares. “You’re still working with her on this project? You can do way better than her.”

Is that so? Certainly I could find a partner with better grades if I wanted, but I don’t want good grades. I want ones that are completely ordinarily average. Standing out is the opposite of what I want to do… although, being partnered with Hebert, I’ve already failed step one. What a pain.

“Yeah,” says Clements. “Haven’t you heard how bad her grades are? She never turns in anything on time…” That’s because you steal her things. “And she cheats…” That’s because you frame her after you copy her work. “And when she does turn in original work, the quality is so bad, she might as well drop out and join the Merchants!” That’s because she has to redo her work after you destroy it. Who has the time to redo everything perfectly a second time.

The bullies all seem to think this is very clever though, laughing at Hebert. It’s actually quite incredible that anyone could be this cliche.

Hebert has lowered her head. … It’s only natural to be worn down after months of this treatment, I suppose.

It doesn’t really make a difference if they do it here or in another classroom, Hebert. I can still hear it with my telepathy. This bullying case is even worse than Akechi’s. At least Akechi had acquaintances who would help him in the aftermath. But no one steps up to help Hebert.

“Hey, it’s rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you,” says Barnes.

Ah, that’s right, they’re waiting for a response from me. Why did you have to drag me into this, seriously.

“Well?” says Barnes, putting a hand on her hip. “What do you think?”

Now that it’s come to this, I have no choice but to respond.

What should I do? Talk to her? I’d rather not make my first spoken words in this story to someone like her.

Ignore her?

That’s just trouble. How annoying.

With those two options off the table, you’ve left me no choice but to show you the power of an esper, Barnes. You brought this on yourself.

“Hey, she’s talking to you,” Hess says menacingly, stepping up to me and grabbing me by the collar of my shirt. “Or do you want to end up on the shit list like Hebert, here?”

I narrow my eyes. I see. So you want to pick a fight with me?

Then you better be prepared for the consequences.

Hess flinches for a second, before gripping my shirt harder. “What’s with that look?” she says lowly. <What was that?! Usually he just sits there passively with a blank expression. He doesn’t respond to anything. He’s totally prey! He’s basically air! But for a second there, I could have sworn…>

“Don’t bother with him,” Clements says disdainfully. “I mean, if he doesn’t want to talk, he’s pretty much declared where he stands, right?” She smiles. Next to her, Barnes holds the papers I worked so hard on last night. She makes direct eye contact with me as she rips it into shreds. I have the feeling I’m supposed to be hurt by this action somehow, but this level of harassment is so petty it’s just sad.

<That’ll show you not to mess with me. So hurry up and change your expression already…Hm?>

She follows my gaze to the doorway behind her.

There stands Mr. Prescott, looking at the shredded paper on the desk. That’s right. Behold the revenge of an esper.

“Miss Barnes,” says Mr. Prescott, “Care to explain?”

“Oh, Mr. Prescott!” Barnes says sweetly. “We were just messing around between friends. Sorry, it looks a little compromising, huh?”

Mr. Prescott’s gaze travels to where Hess is still holding my shirt. Hess lets go quickly and straightens up.

“Yes,” Mr. Prescott says slowly. “Well. There’s nothing wrong with having fun with your friends. But be sure not to disrupt class. Everyone be seated, then. The bell is about to ring.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Prescott,” Clements says, and the bullies disperse away from my desk.

<At least they gave me an excuse not to do anything, but honestly, if you’re going to do anything, make sure I won’t see it…> Mr. Prescott, you sure do love that PRT funding, huh. What is with this school. So irresponsible.

<What bad luck. Usually the teacher doesn’t get here for a couple minutes more,> Emma thinks. <What was that timing?>

That would be my doing. Using my telepathy, I nudged Mr. Prescott into deciding to walk over a few minutes earlier than usual. Of course, now he’s thinking about how he’s strictly not entering the classroom until after the bell has rung because he wants to avoid seeing trouble like that again, so it seems it was a one-time use trick, but it’s enough to make everyone back off for now.

<That Saiki, he didn’t even flinch. It’s like he knew Mr. Prescott was coming.> There goes Hess speculating about me again. <Or it could just be his face. He always looks like he just smelt something foul. I don’t think I’ve seen him change expression once. Or heard him talk, for that matter.> A pause. <Wait, is he mute?>

She feels a moment of shame. That’s right. You should feel bad.

<…Typical. How weak. He’s got to be prey after all.>

Wow. What a character.

Hess, for someone who likes to call herself a predator, you’ve sure got bad instincts.

“I’m sorry, Saiki,” Hebert says to me as Mr. Prescott sets up the projector. “It’s my fault your work got ruined.”

<Why’d he have to catch their attention like that, anyways? If he’d just kept his head low, maybe I could’ve gotten through this class’s project...>

Your resentment is saying something totally different. I don’t hold it against her, though, since anyone would gather up resentment after being bullied for so long. It’s only natural to lash out against someone you can actually have an impact on instead of the people whose fault it actually is. At least she’s only doing it in her mind.

<No, what am I thinking? It’s the Trio’s fault. It’s just so frustrating. They’ve already ruined my notebooks this morning.> … It’s a tough life. I’m surprised at how reasonable Hebert is being even in the confines of her own mind, though. It’s okay to sling mud at me a little longer. I can take it. I’ve heard thoughts like that my whole life. Although, thanks for not blaming me for too long, I suppose. It would have been annoying to work with you while constantly hearing how upset you are with me. <And now Saiki’s going to stop working with me, because he won’t want to be dragged into this. I’m alone again.>

Hahhh, seriously, what a pain. I haven’t even responded yet, you know?

I shrug at Hebert, and then I reach into my bag for a spare sheaf of papers. With a bit of thoughtography, I copy the research I did last night onto the papers and pull them out.

Hebert’s eyes widen when I put it in front of her. “You brought a second copy.” The amount of relief she feels is a bit depressing. The suspicion that immediately follows, even more so. “Why?”

I slide my eyes to look at Barnes across the room, curl my lips into a slight sneer, and then turn my eyes back to the front, going back to my usual blank expression.

<Emma? Wait, so he made preparations in case the Trio did anything?> Sure, let’s go with that. <Then… Well. Of course he’s noticed the bullying by now. But if he knew what was going on, why didn’t he do anything earlier? Why now?>

Sorry, Hebert. I’m not really a nice person. I don’t take action unless it directly affects me. You’ve gotten quite the selfish partner.

<But at the same time… I guess if I was in his position, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about them, either. He’s only just transferred into the school, and I don’t think he has any friends.> Don’t say that with such a pitying tone. I don’t want any friends here. <How would he even stand up to the Trio’s social circle? But he still stuck with me as a partner even though he knew. He made backup copies so we’d still be able to complete the project…>

Hebert lowers her head at her desk.

<And for a second there, I thought he really was going to fight Hess, too.> She noticed too, huh. Well, hopefully she’ll write it off as easily as they did. <That basically makes him the only person here to show me any kind of support, doesn’t it?> Just my luck. Of course she didn’t. <Maybe if someone like him had arrived here just a few months earlier, the locker incident wouldn’t have...>

Hebert, your life is seriously depressing. I haven’t done anything for you. It’s just a copy of my work, stop reading so much into it.

Seriously, it wasn’t for you. They were just getting me involved. It annoys me when someone thinks they can get the better of me.

“…Thanks.”

I said it wasn’t for you.

Whatever. I give her a curt nod and then go back to ignoring her. This is an important class to pay attention to, after all.

“Good morning, class. Welcome back to our Parahuman Studies unit. As a reminder, your research project is due this Friday…”

Hebert, I’m trying to concentrate here.

<Well, it is an elective class, so maybe he’s just interested in the topic. The research he did looked really thorough and well-cited, too. I wonder how knowledgeable he is? Maybe I’ll ask after class.> Please don’t. I’m a sensitive soul. If too many people try to engage me in social interaction in one day I’ll wither away and die. <Who knows, maybe he even knows something that could help me with my debut.>

Oh boy.

<Yeah. I can’t put off debuting any longer. I’ve had these powers for long enough, it’s time I stop delaying and start doing something meaningful.>

This is the other troublesome thing with Hebert.

What? you might be saying. Isn’t it cool that she has powers? Look you can be friends, and you’re not alone anymore.

First of all, I’m not interested in being anyone’s friend. There’s nothing wrong with being alone. But no, the real problem is that she’s not like me at all.

<Shard:Queen_Administrator:<PROCESS_INPUT>>

There’s a parasitic alien shard attached to her brain, and it’s the thing that gives her powers. On top of that, she controls bugs.

It’s not that I’m afraid of bugs. They’re not particularly disgusting, either. Not much more than seeing people’s muscular structure every day, anyways. What really bothers me about them is that they’re so small I can’t read their minds or predict them. Birds, mammals, even fish? Sure. Bugs, though? Nothing. It’s way too creepy.

I nearly refused to be her partner when I realized what she could do, but it turns out that by listening to this “Queen Administrator” shard, I can predict what nearby bugs are going to do and when. So it’s better to be next to her than not… even though it comes with the downside of knowing where every single bug in a two block radius is.

And there are so. Many. Bugs. Just my luck. I’ll never be able to relax again.

I’m getting sidetracked. The point is: I’m different from her. I’m different from every parahuman on this Earth, in fact. Of all the superpowered people on this planet, there is still not a single one like me.

I’m sure that you, as a savvy reader, have noticed my phrasing by now. This Earth? you may be asking. Yes. This Earth, as one among many. This dimension is a different dimension from my own.

That’s the biggest thing to complain about, really. I’ve accidentally hopped dimensions, and I don’t have a clue how to get back home.

——

How did I get here? you might ask. Well, it’s a simple answer, really. For all of you manga readers, you may recall that in chapter 206 my limiter device malfunctioned and resulted in me acquiring a wide variety of inconvenient and useless powers. One of those powers? Dimension hopping.

But that’s not useless at all! you might be crying. Imagine the possibilities! The riches you could acquire! The fame you could accrue! The technological development you could facilitate!

With my powers I could make money in hundreds of different ways, easily. I don’t need dimension hopping for that. And why would I get myself money anyways, when I can just acquire what I want directly with my powers?

That’s why I don’t bother with riches, and fame is just annoying because of all the attention. And I wouldn’t want to help facilitate technological development. That would require me to reveal my abilities in some capacity, and you should have realized by now that I would much prefer my privacy.

In any case, I accidentally dimension hopped here. I managed to use one of the other “useless powers” to fix my limiter device so my psychic powers worked properly again, but now I can’t figure out how to get home. I don’t know how to break my limiter in the right way to get the dimension hopping power back, and I don’t want to risk it either, since my powers without the limiter device are uncontrollably strong and I might end up irrevocably changing this world if I’m not careful.

Oh well. Kuusuke will probably find where I’ve ended up, eventually. The best thing to do is stay in one place until then.

——

After a long and harrowing day at school blending into the background, I’ve finally arrived home.

“Home.” In reality, it’s just an abandoned house that I fixed up with my psychic powers. No one knows I’m here. Well, that’s fine with me, though.

Finishing all my homework is easy, so I take care of that first. Then I read some books. Then it’s around dinnertime. That’s a simple matter of taking some plants I gathered and deer meat I hunted from a forest on the other continent the other day, and stored in my “refrigerator” of ice I made from my cryokinesis. Then cook everything with pyrokinesis in an iron pot I bought with some money I got from cheating the lottery with my clairvoyance and X-ray powers.

It’s quiet without my noisy and troublesome family around… Well, I’m always complaining about them, so I don’t have the right to complain about not having them here.

There’s really not much to do. Maybe I should get myself a computer so I can go look around that PHO forum that Hebert is always thinking about.

Speaking of Hebert, didn’t she say she was going to debut tonight? I guess I’ll check in on her. It would be annoying if my project partner got herself killed on her first night out, after all. Let’s see…

Crossing my eyes, I activate my clairvoyance. Where is she… Aha, there.

“--shoot the kids.”

<What? He’s going to murder children?! I know that’s Lung I’m going up against, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing…!>

<Shard:Queen_Administrator:<COMMAND>>

Wait wait wait. Lung? As in the leader of that one gang, the parahuman who no one wants to take on?

Good grief. Hebert, you sure have a talent for getting into trouble. I’m trying to keep this story strictly comedy, or failing that, at least something that’s not dark. You just had to go and change the genre, didn’t you. What am I supposed to do here?

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

#saiki kusuo no psi nan #worm web serial #crossover #simk writes #see you in the dark

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semperintrepida · 4 years

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11, 14, 20, 23, 34 (only the first question if the 2nd makes you in anyway uncomfortable), 39. I'm super curious about 11 and 14 :D

oh fishy, I’m never uncomfortable talking about myself, especially after ¾ths of a bottle of pinot noir and a big-ass radler. 😂

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

They come to me. And if they don’t come, I keep working at it, gently and patiently, because that’s how I roll.

I prefer to start writing a draft after I have a title (or at least a decent working title). I like my titles to be the center around which the theme of the story orbits, so it’s helpful for me to start with the title and proceed from there.

Titles tend to come to me either spontaneously, or after a loooong time thinking about what I want to say with the story until a title emerges from the muck. There is no middle ground.

Story time! When I first thought of the concept for The Sellout, I thought: Man, wouldn’t it be funny if I — who never met a trope I didn’t want to subvert — wrote a coffee shop AU, and it ended up being the most popular thing I’ve ever written? I should call it “The Sellout” — because I AM.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

I think stories should be as long as they need to be, and no longer.

That said, I pay attention to form. Elegiad is a bunch of one-shots, so I’d prefer to keep those around 3k to 5k. (Of course, the last few stories have been ~10k behemoths and I’m still cringing a little about it.)

The Sellout is a chapter fic that’s accidentally turned into a novel, and I’m trying hard to keep each chapter between 2k and 4k words.

My goal as a writer has always been to say a lot in a few words.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

(Now we’re gettin’ frisky after the jump)

Crawling so far inside my characters’ heads that I’m wearing their skin and borrowing their brains. I see what they see, feel what they feel, think what they think. (In my imagination! Jeeze.)

I've been thinking lately about why I don’t like writing original fiction, and I realized that if I came up with an OC, there’s no mystery for me there, because I made them up whole-cloth. I know everything about them. In fanfic, I’m trying to figure out a character someone else invented, puzzling out explanations for why they are they way they are. I guess I just like figuring out what makes people tick.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

I dunno, coffee shop’s working out pretty well for me. 😉 I can’t say I have a favorite — until Sellout, I was actively trying to subvert tropes instead of parroting them.

I have dreamed about writing a proper redemption story for 25 years now. Perhaps today’s the day.

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

More than I’d like to admit. There’s a part of me in every POV character I write. sellout!Kyra says what I’d say without a filter of Pacific Northwest Nice. Certain cynical aspects of elegiad!Kassandra’s worldview come from me.

I’ve done enough ridiculous shit in my life that I can fake my way through most scenes. Fight scene? Dabbled in Judo for a while. Injuries? Dirtbiking and Judo again (thanks for those cracked ribs and concussions, boys!) Heavy emotions? Boy howdy, do I have a bank of experience for those...

I’m pretty sure people think I’m some super-intense crazy person.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

I was going to say an economical use of words, but after posting three 10k Elegiads in a row I feel like that’s not true anymore.

Nowadays, I’m pretty proud of my character work, and I think my stories hold up to being read multiple times.

I don’t know, this one’s hard to answer because I’ve been having a really difficult time reading my own work lately. I haven’t been able to read Sellout from chapter 1 to 5 without cringing so hard that I bail out partway though. And I still haven’t re-read Elegiad 17 (Mosaic) since I posted it because the urge to delete it is still so strong that if I actually read it I just might. 😳

[fic writer ask game]

#i'm glad you asked #fishbone76 #tmi #sometimes i have thoughts about writing

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missjanjie · 4 years

Text

Branjie Fic | Take Me Back to the Start (8/?)

Title: Take Me Back to the Start Summary: Everyone remembers their first love. Not everyone carries those feelings from childhood to senior year. Yet Brock is starting his last year of high school while still longing for the relationship he lost five years ago. Meanwhile, José is at the top of the food chain and seems to have it all together. But maybe their story isn’t over yet. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~25.3k (total) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll) Rating: E

Read on AO3

José was never able to sleep the night before a competition, but for some reason, it felt worse tonight. It felt like there was more on the line— not only did he feel the need to live up to the expectations of the coach and everyone on his team, he wanted to be as good as Brock seemed to think he was.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how important Brock’s opinion was to him. Next to his mother, no one else ever seemed to believe in him so unabashedly, and he didn’t have the ‘parental obligation’ that he associated with his mom. Brock believed in him because he wanted to.

And maybe that should have put him at ease; it should be something to take comfort in. Instead it just made him feel like he had more to prove, that he had to prove he was worthy of Brock’s praise.

Either way, it was almost four in the morning and José was as awake as ever, and he knew he would regret it in the morning if he didn’t at least keep trying to get some sleep.

But it became clear that just wasn’t happening, so he texted Brock to see if he was awake.

‘You can’t sleep either?’ Brock sent in response.

‘Nope :(‘

‘Wanna call me?’

José grinned, sitting up in bed. ‘Yeah, one sec,’ he sent before calling him. “What’s got you up, boo?”

“I’m just nervous about tomorrow,” Brock admitted with a sigh. “Everything went well at the game, but it’s gonna be a whole other setting and it’s really gonna be a testament to whether or not I can choreograph or if I ruined everything for everyone.”

That definitely didn’t make José feel any less anxious – if anything, the knot in his stomach tightened. “If it helps, it’s not all on you. We did this together. We either succeed or we flop, but it ain’t all on your head. Or mine.” The last part was a reminder for himself, but it didn’t digress from the point.

“I don’t wanna screw anything up for you, though.”

José didn’t mean to laugh, quickly trying to stop himself. “You think you’re gonna screw something up for me? Boy, you must be really up in your head.”

“You say that like it’s a new development,” Brock retorted dryly. “I can’t help it, I just want everything as close to perfect as physically possible.”

“Yeah, what else is new?” José chuckled. “If you keep tryna be perfect you just gonna create impossible standards. You’re already the best dancer I know; if anything I should be lecturing you about being too arrogant, but you ain’t even cocky.”

Brock sighed with a light laugh. “I think if I started getting cocky I’d just end up apologizing for it,” he chuckled softly, then yawned.

José caught the yawn, rubbing his eyes. “I think we tired each other out,” he mused. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As late as it was, they did finally manage to sleep through the night, hoping it’d be enough to get through the next day.

------

Brock had been walking around the building the competition was in, as he’d ended up getting there before the team. But apparently, he had been wandering around too long, because all of a sudden, he looked up and saw Courtney barreling towards him.

“There you are! We started to think you got lost.” She took his hand, guiding him to the waiting area where the team was getting ready.

“Sorry.” He offered a half-hearted apology, now distracted by examining the group and, more specifically, looking for José to see how he was holding up.

José didn’t even notice when Brock arrived, deeply invested in the task at hand. He was standing by the freshmen on the team, fixing their hair and makeup, going over the steps. One girl seemed to look anxious, so he pulled her aside to give her a pep talk that lifted her spirits.

“He’s a real den mother, isn’t he?” Courtney remarked to Brock, who was leaning against the wall and watching him with the fondest of smiles.

“Makes a great team captain,” he agreed.

It was mutually beneficial as well — when José was focusing his attention on keeping the younger teens motivated and in good spirits, he had a solid distraction from his own nerves. If he kept preaching these words of affirmation, maybe he would start believing them himself.

Once the group had dispersed, Brock made his way over to him, pressing a kiss to his temple and giving him a light squeeze. “Holding up okay?”

“Trying to,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, gaze shifting from the taller teen to the younger group. “It’s the first big competition for most of them, can’t let ‘em see you sweat, you know? They’re all looking to me to have shit together.” His voice was strained, without the distraction, he was back to being consumed with anxiety.

And Brock picked up on it, squeezing his shoulders and staring at him until José gave in and made eye contact. “Listen to me, we’re here because you’re an amazing captain. They look up to you because you’ve been an incredible role model this whole time. I don’t just believe in you because I like you, I believe in you because you’re one of the most talented, hard-working people I’ve ever met.”

Despite his stubborn efforts, José relaxed at his words. He realized he’d needed a pep talk just as much as his younger teammates. “Thanks.” He looked up at Brock, giving up any attempt at hiding the smile that fought its way to his lips. “Couldn’t have done it without you, though.”

“I’m glad I could help, but you guys are gonna be the ones tearing it up, and I’ll be cheering for you the whole time,” he promised.

Shortly after that, the squad was given a ten-minute warning, and Brock made his way out to the bleachers. He was sitting for about a moment before he looked up to see a familiar face joining him. “You again?” he joked.

“Yes, I’ve been stalking you this whole time.” Karl chuckled. “I’ve never seen a cheer competition before, do they all just perform their routines and that is it?”

“Neither have I, now that I think of it,” he shrugged. “But yeah, I can safely assume that’s the gist of it.”

Karl furrowed his brows. “You haven’t? Has José not been competing?”

Brock shook his head. “No, no, he has. But we… went a few years without talking, only picked back up recently.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

He couldn’t tell if the question came from disbelief or genuine confusion, pressing his lips together and looking out ahead of him. “José and I have a unique history. Guess at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter, mostly just happy with the page we’re on now.”

“Mostly?”

Brock pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if being this nosy was a French trait, or something specific to this teen. “Everything is a work in progress, but things are going in the right direction,” he concluded. “How are you and Charlie?”

The expression that overtook Karl wasn’t unfamiliar to Brock — giddy, warm, rosy cheeks with an offset gaze—it was the same lovesickness that had plagued him since childhood. Only this time, he wasn’t looking in a mirror, and it brought a sense of relief to him, that he wasn’t alone in the smitten boat, so to speak. “Things are good,” he answered. “Very good.”

“I can tell. You two are good for each other,” he mused. “Don’t let anything get in the way of that.”

Karl nodded, then both of them shifted focus to the floor as their school’s team entered. The music began to play and the routine began, both of their eyes trained on every moment.

When it ended, Brock realized he had been holding his breath the whole routine. He stood up and cheered as the air returned to his lungs, filled to the brim with pride and admiration - it couldn’t have gone better if he tried, and a weight lifted off his chest.

But the nerves came back with a vengeance when it came time to announce the winners. Third place was announced, and after second, Brock was starting to get nervous. He was on the edge of his seat when the first place was announced.

“Holy shit, we won.” Brock didn’t register the cheering or Karl shaking him. He was stunned. That really happened. All of their hard work actually paid off in a tangible manner. It wasn’t until the noise had died down that he came back to earth. As soon as the team exited, he got up and ran to meet them on the other side.

The second José spotted Brock, he sprinted towards him. He didn’t say a word, just grabbed him by the face and kissed him hard, not letting go until his lungs gave him no other choice.

Brock wrapped his arms around José’s waist, picking him up and spinning him around. “That was amazing!” He kissed his cheek before setting him down. “I am so proud of you.”

“We did it!” José beamed when his words were no longer escaping him. His face was red and his eyes were wide, sparkling with enthusiasm and pairing perfectly with a smile that could outshine the sun itself. “We really fuckin’ did it.”

They did have to break apart when the rest of the team crowded around in collective celebration. Parents were running in to congratulate their children, people started to scatter as they posed for pictures with their medals.

José was the first to notice his and Brock’s mothers walking towards them. He chuckled softly, the two women were chatting animatedly, as if no time at all had passed since the last time they were in a room together. He admired the effortlessness in their camaraderie, it led him to believe that things could actually be normal between himself and Brock. “Aw look, they getting along.”

Brock chuckled. “What, did you think it was gonna be like the Capulets and Montagues?” He received a blank stare in response. “Romeo and Juliet?”

“Oh yeah, with Leonardo DiCaprio.” He nodded confidently, and they were embraced by their moms before Brock could offer a response.

------

It was getting late; the cheerleaders were starting to taper off after the celebration dinner. Everyone was a bit tired, but spirits were high and bright.

“Do you wanna come over? Maybe spend the night?” José asked with his mouth half full, washing the bite down with a swig of water. He and Brock hadn’t left each other’s sides since the win, they’d even been squished together in the restaurant booth until people started to leave.

Brock grinned, setting his napkin down on the empty plate. “Sure, if your mom doesn’t mind.”

“Naw, you were always her favorite anyway.” He chuckled, waiting for him to slide out of the booth so he could follow suit, and they walked out to his car with linked arms.

The drive back was quiet – Brock seemed lost in thought and José chose to focus on the road than press him about it. They’d had a long day, after all, he was sure if it was worth bringing up, it’d come out eventually.

Once they were finally in José’s bedroom, they were as relaxed as ever, watching Real Housewives reruns and getting just high enough to not know what city they were in. They had their own running commentary going, one that started as jokes and devolved into just mimicking what the women said in nasally, valley girl voices.

But after a while, the TV faded into the background, and they became more invested in their cuddling. And then cuddling turned to kissing, which led to groping.

“I think we should have sex,” Brock said suddenly.

José blinked in surprise, taking a moment to make sure he’d actually heard him correctly and he wasn’t so high that he had started to hear things (which would’ve been improbable with the meager amount of weed they smoked, but he could never be too sure). “Are you sure?”

Brock just nodded simply. “Uh-huh. I mean, I’ve been wanting to for a while now, but I, you know, overthought it every time and chickened out,” he explained, for once not feeling like he was struggling to stay calm.

He let out a laugh because yes, that was very on-brand for Brock and knew for sure that he was being sincere. “Well, if we’re being real right now, I have been wanting you to fuck me since the rain cockblocked us at the park.”

It brought him a relief to know that these feelings had been mutual for a while now, though it made him feel ridiculous that he’d been so adamant about holding out and hiding away. They could’ve crossed this path weeks ago, but he quickly concluded it was better late than never. “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, pulling José into a kiss before he could answer.

Not that there was anything José felt like he needed to add. He kissed back with all the eagerness that had been building up over what felt like ages now. He was gripping onto Brock by his shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank it off and toss it aside, his own following immediately after.

Brock was amused at the speed and dexterity the brunette expressed when he wanted something done, and he decided that all he needed to do was keep up with him. So, he scrambled to get out of his jeans, to get them both undressed as fast as the delayed connection between his brain and his hands allowed.

“Tell me if you wanna slow down or stop or anything.” The difference in their speeds had become apparent enough to José. Even without a request, he quelled his pace so they were at a similar rhythm, one that soon felt effortless to both of them. He waited for a beat, then reached into his drawer and handed him a bottle of lube.

“We don’t need a condom?” Brock asked, examining the bottle and figuring out what he needed to do next.

José shrugged. “Nah, you a virgin, and I tested clean. Might as well make your first time even better, you know?” He had always used protection with Kyle, insisting it was for safety. Despite being technically true, in the back of his mind, he knew it was because he never completely trusted that he was his only partner. Perhaps in another place and time, it would’ve bothered him, but he didn’t care anymore, and it was a freeing revelation.

Brock, on the other hand, accepted the explanation at face value. “That works for me.” He hummed, waiting for José to lay back. “You, um, need to prep first, right? Or am I supposed to do it?”

“You getting nervous already. Lemme do it,” he decided, taking the bottle back from him. “Pay attention, so you know what to do next time.”

He smiled, the idea that ‘next time’ was a given settled well with him, it made him feel warmth swell in his chest. “Should I take notes?” he joked, sitting cross-legged on the bed. But as he immediately realized, notes would not be necessary. Watching José surpassed any porn he’d ever watched. It had him hypnotized and practically drooling, he was absentmindedly jerking off to the sight that he couldn’t look away from if he tried.

And José absolutely adored the attention and tried to put on a show without being too loud. He worked himself just to the point of readiness, easing his fingers out and looking up at Brock. “You ready, big guy?”

“You fucking bet I am,” Brock chuckled softly. He took the bottle and used the lube to slick up his length, then very carefully guided himself into him, grunting softly as he did. It took him a moment to adjust, the feeling so new and overwhelmingly pleasurable.

José waited patiently for Brock to get comfortable. He already felt so good just having him buried inside him, just holding him close, one hand on his back and the other tangled in his hair. And when Brock started thrusting, he yielded to his movements right away.

Brock’s moans went from cursing and words of praise to unintelligible nonsense faster than he could’ve anticipated. His thrusts were a bit unsteady but deep and fervent. His hands were at either side of José, balancing himself until he moved one to grab his waist, giving him a better angle to continue.

Time faded out of relevance as the thrusts became more desperate and erratic, the two of them clinging to each other for dear life. It could’ve been anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours – they didn’t know, nor did they care. By the time they were both spent, they were lost in their own little world. Nothing else mattered, they could bask at this moment forever.

“So was it good for you?” José asked when he finally caught his breath and the room stopped spinning so much.

Brock snorted, covering his mouth. “Yes. It was very, very good,” he replied, wrapping his other arm around the smaller male and holding him close. “It was good for you too, right?”

“Of course it was.” He huffed as if it should’ve been obvious.

“Just checking,” he cooed and kissed his forehead, then yawned as he closed his eyes. “At least tonight we’re gonna sleep really well.”

José buried his face into Brock’s chest, mumbling a sleepy “Uh-huh.”

Brock exhaled deeply, holding him close, then gently whispering, “I love you.”

He got a loud snore in response and he laughed to himself. Maybe it was for the best, he thought as he started to drift off. The right time would come eventually.

#branjie #branjie fic #rpdr rpf

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justsomewhump · 4 years

Text

Tenebrae (1/6 ?)

So I had a whumpy dream so I turned it into whumpy fanfiction.

Summary: Sorta Medieval, non-magic AU. Killian and his friend Nemo are captured by Commander Gold, who decides to torture the former and use the latter to torture the former further.

Warning: This fic will contain rape/noncon in later chapters.

Word count: 3k AO3

Killian wouldn't care if only he were alone in this.

Gold could do anything he wanted with him - and probably would, anyway, considering what Killian had heard of his practices - if only it weren't like this.

Struggling to keep a neutral face, he turned to look at Nemo behind him, wrists chained together and a sullen expression on his face. At least he thought it was, the dark corridors of the prison they were being walked through weren't the best circumstances to see clearly.

Gold hadn't turned to look at them for one single moment as he took turn upon turn; he was probably still donning that blood-chilling grin he had as soon as the soldiers managed to put iron cuffs around Killian's arm and wrist. It was no surprise he had special plans for them. They passed by several cells, empty and otherwise, but Gold only stopped as soon as they reached a heavy steel door. Gold unlocked it and stepped inside.

"Move," the soldier behind them said.

Killian walked in and immediately stopped, not even being brought back by Nemo colliding with him.

The room opened into a cavernous underground chamber, with a wooden cross proudly standing up in its center. It didn't take long to imagine who was going for it.

"Move!"

With a quiet gasp, Killian turned to take the stairs to the chamber floor, eyes not leaving the cross. He had specifically heard about crucifixion being a common practice in that place, not surprisingly with someone as sadistic as Commander Gold in charge.

But crucifixion was supposed to be... for the public, to instill fear by humiliating criminals - or their idea of them - as much as possible. This cavern looked empty, and private.

It was Gold's very own torture chamber.

Gold was indeed still smiling when Killian and Nemo reached him. Picking up a loaded crossbow from a trunk, he nodded at the soldier, who unlocked the men's cuffs.

"Dismissed," Gold said, and the soldier simply nodded and walked off.

It was certainly not the first time this was happening.

"Let's not stall, shall we?" Gold said and pointed at something behind the cross.

"So that's it?" Killian tried. "We get to be executed in private and then thrown into a mass grave? What's the lesson learned in that case?"

"Oh don't worry, your friend over there will hang. The question is if you'll survive everything I've planned for you to even get that far. Now, lower the cross, if you please."

Killian finally turned to see a wooden, hand-operated winch right behind the cross. Two parts of rope reached from it to the edges of the long crossbeam, making clear what its use was for. He looked at Nemo, realizing that despite how horrible Gold's methods were, they had no chance of actually getting help. If anything, everyone there probably already knew about those methods and was helping him.

Nemo started moving to join him, but Gold immediately raised the crossbow at him, saying, "The demand was aimed at the pirate. Don't worry, I have plenty of those for you too."

"Just let me help him-"

"You will."

Killian simply nodded at Nemo, trying to inspire a confidence he knew he didn't have anymore. It was obvious who was going up on that cross, but still he tried to focus on simply lowering it out of fear his only hand would tremble too much if he thought what awaited him. When the cross was down, he had nothing else to think of.

Resting the crossbow on his shoulder, Gold stared at him. "Those clothes on you look heavy," he said. "Trust me when I say your arms will thank you if you get rid of all of them."

Killian knew he didn't just mean the heavy leather parts, but still he hoped, as he started undressing with a now certainly trembling hand, that he would let him hold on to some dignity.

Surprisingly, he did.

"Your shirt, too. Keep the underpants, if you will."

Oh, he very much willed. He found himself grabbing at the thin fabric as Gold walked back to the trunk and brought back two pieces of thick rope.

He gave them to Nemo, saying, "Not too tight, or he'll lose the other hand too. And not too loose, or he'll slip and fall face down."

"No nails, then?" Killian said, his weak voice surprising him.

"Can't take the chance of infection so early in the game, can I? Now." He pointed at the cross.

Killian turned, a sudden feeling of nausea overcoming him at the thought of actually doing it, lying down on it as Nemo tied his arms around the beams, then being raised up...

"Any time, now," Gold said.

Killian looked at them. Gold had the crossbow at the ready again, while Nemo looked at him with a devastated expression. Killian swallowed hard. He had no idea how he was supposed to do it. Would he slip before Nemo would tie him down? Where exactly should he place himself?

His breath getting heavier, he lied down on the cross. The wood under him was lean, but for him it could just as well be full of prickling thorns. His hand was visibly shaking as he spread his arms over the vertical beam. Eventually, his placing seemed to satisfy Gold, who then nodded at Nemo to get working.

None of the two could look at each other; Nemo was only looking where he was tying the rope and Killian was looking up at the stone ceiling, barely able to control his erratic breathing.

"That'll do," Gold said. "Now, the other arm, bend his elbow and tie the rope around it so the arm won't slip off. I had plenty of chances to try this one out on criminals, in case I would capture this bastard right here. His defect requires special measures."

"Defect?!" Killian huffed. "You bastard... you... it was you..."

Gold didn't even need to raise the crossbow at him; Killian knew he was too scared to make an effective comeback and go any close to winning an argument with him right now. Nemo's presence over him and the looming threat of his death as well, all because he only wanted to help Killian, only made it worse.

"He's all set. Pull him up."

Keeping his chin locked now, in an effort to stop it too from trembling, he felt his stomach turn as the cross started to move. Not even halfway up, Killian started slipping until his toes reached a small protrusion, barely wide enough for the balls of his feet to rest and alleviate some of the weight he already felt pulling at his wrist and elbow. The cross was secured, but to Killian it felt like it was still going and would keep going until he'd land on his face and get crushed by the heavy wood over him.

Concentrate. Look clearly. This can't be how it would end... Gold said so anyway.

Through blurred vision he saw Nemo step in front of the cross, Gold aiming at him again. His feet slipped from the protrusion and as he fell a little lower he realized he couldn't breathe. Struggling, his feet finally found the rest again and he managed to drag himself up a bit.

"Exactly," Gold said. "Keep your feet on that piece of wood and you'll be able to keep breathing."

"How long will you leave him like this?" Nemo said in a low voice.

"That'll depend on you." Gold reached into a pocket and produced an emblem and a small sachel. "Show this emblem to the guards, tell them you're to go buy me the best hazelnuts you can find in the market. The guards have been informed about it. Find me the best hazelnuts, buy them and come running back. If I'm satisfied, you can take him down."

Nemo only gave Killian a quick look, then he ran out without a second word.

"Don't come back," Killian whispered, only realizing Nemo had left after the words were out.

Despite having joined Nemo in trading to many ports, even of this town, he always had to hide due to his known past as a pirate, so he never had the chance to roam around the cities they visited. He had no idea how long it would take Nemo to reach the market, find what Gold wanted, then come running back.

He shouldn't come back. Nemo only wanted to help him... he'd only let him hide in his ship until Killian could secure a pardon for himself, as shallow and fake it would be. Nemo shouldn't pay the price for wanting to help a wayward soul.

But he knew he would come back, no matter what. He looked at Gold, sitting down on a chair and resting his feet on another as he chewed on something and looked at Killian, and he knew that would be his plan until the time for their hanging would come.

Gold kept looking at him like some form of entertainment - which it probably was, for him - smirking every time Killian's feet slipped from the wooden rest and he found himself unable to inhale as his chest tightened, his whole weight pulling down on his wrist and elbow, until he could find his footing again, taking him longer and longer to do so as time passed.

He'd once dislocated his left shoulder during a battle. Though it'd been long since then, he still remembered the haunting, popping sound as the bones disjointed, and even years after he'd recuperated, with any sudden and brute pull he had a small fear it would dislocate again.

That was such a case. Every time he slipped and felt his weight shock his already pained joints, he feared but expected to hear that damn pop from either shoulder. His wondering over whether that was Gold's plan in the first place was quickly drowned out by his need to find the protrusion again and breathe.

He hadn't felt his courage wane so quickly before; he'd normally stare down at Gold, ignoring his own pain and humiliation and even hunger at the sight of him eating while enjoying the view. Now that seemed simply impossible. If anything, Killian couldn't stop thinking that if he allowed himself to die there, Nemo would run back anyway and give himself up for nothing.

He had to stay alive long enough, or until Nemo could manage to put himself over Killian for once. Killian was a dead man anyway; Nemo could get away.

Killian closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the damned wood to alleviate his aching neck and focusing on keeping his feet balanced on the small platform, his very own lifeline. He didn't even have the strength to open them when he heard the massive steel door open. Still, a tear squeezed through as he head what undoubtedly was Nemo running down the steps and reaching Gold, sounding breathless.

"Took you long enough," Gold said and Killian finally opened his eyes. Gold stood up, calmly taking a sachel from Nemo's trembling hand, opening it and tasting a nut.

Even from the distance, Killian saw Gold make an unimpressed face, and immediately felt his eyes fill with tears. If he wasn't satisfied-

"Certainly not the best you could find, but I'll take it."

Killian allowed himself a sigh of relief, but no relaxing. He still needed to stay upright until Nemo took him down, though considering how even now he ran to the winch and turned it quickly, his worry wasn't needed. Soon enough the cross was flat on the ground again and Killian whimpered as his pained muscles were finally relieved of the stress. However, as Nemo moved to untie the ropes, Gold said,

"No." Pointing the crossbow at him, Gold nodded to an arch at a wall on Killian's right.

With a devastated look, Nemo gave one last glimpse at Killian, then went where Gold ordered. Killian heard their footsteps, then a door opening and closing, then opening and closing once more. This time only Gold came back.

"Where is he?" Killian whispered, too weak to speak normally yet.

"In a cell. It's not the best, but it's way better than what I've planned for you." He set the crossbow down, then bent down next to Killian and untied the ropes.

Killian clenched his teeth to avoid whimpering again as he moved his aching arms, bringing them closer to his torso.

"There," Gold said and put a flask in Killian's hand.

The flask was corked. Killian felt he could barely move his arm, let alone hold it up so he could drink. With groans escaping his mouth, he managed to bring the flask closer, then bite the cork between his teeth and pull it off. Still groaning, he raised the flask to his lips. Half of the water had spilled down his chin by the time he emptied it.

With a weak sigh, he leaned on his side, getting himself off the damned crossbeam and onto the stone floor. His hopes of Gold leaving him to rest there were quickly drowned as he walked to stand above him, crossbow in hand.

"Take your time, sonny boy. Get up when you feel like it."

He wasn't sure of his ability to walk right now; the balls of his feet still hurt from spending the past half hour or so balanced on a rest too small for both of them or struggling to stay on said rest. Still, Gold's stare felt as another form of torment, and if he could end it by dragging himself to his cell, no matter how dark or wet or uncomfortable, so be it.

For half a second, he considered crawling there. He was surprised that his first objection was that his arms hurt too much for him to crawl and not how humiliating it would be, to top off this evening's punishment.

He still had to get up, however, and while usually he was agile enough to get up from the floor without the use of his hands or arms if needed, this was out of the question now. So preparing himself, he leaned on his right elbow, let out an involuntary scream and pushed himself to a sitting position. It was then he didn't know what to do with his arms; even their own weight felt too much to let them loose on his sides, but tensing the muscles even just to keep them close to his torso hurt too.

Taking a deep breath, he considered the chance of a private cell, if Gold would give him that. Unless Gold was aiming to prolong the torture he'd just gone through, the chances were that wherever or whatever his cell was, he would be able to lie down, and that would be the best for his arms now. So with another deep breath, he pushed himself to stand, staggered a few steps as he found his balance, then raised his eyes to Gold's.

"Can I have my clothes back?" he said.

Gold laughed. "I suppose you could call it that." He then picked a small sackcloth from the ground next to him and threw it over Killian's head. "Can't have you chit-chatting about where exactly your cell is to your friend, can I?"

Killian then felt something sharp against his bare back. Realizing it was probably the bolt loaded on the crossbow, he heard Gold say,

"Now move. Let's see if you can still walk straight with that thing over your head..." He then felt the bolt push a little harder, and Gold's voice loud against his ear as he said, "Or if you'll need a collar to help guide you."

Feeling his blood freeze, Killian took a few tentative steps forward, feeling even more helpless at how the bolt's sharp end never left his back. Judging by what little he could see through the sackcloth, they walked through a darker room - probably through the arc he saw Gold take Nemo earlier. Or a corridor, from the feels of it. Gold grabbed his shoulder, and Killian hissed back a scream as Gold turned him briskly to the right.

"Forward," Gold said.

A turn to the left and another to the right later, Gold told him to stop. Killian heard something heavy being dragged across the stone floor, then a groan left him as Gold unexpectedly kicked him behind the knees, making him drop down on them. The cloth was lifted from his head, and adjusting to the little light he saw a hole in the stone wall that couldn't be bigger than a few feet in any dimension. A putrid smell of human waste came out from it.

"This will be your cell," Gold said. "It's dark and wet and barely any fresh air comes in, I hope you'll enjoy pretending to be a fungus for the night."

Killian swallowed hard; he wasn't going to avoid crawling, after all. Despite that, he turned to look at Gold. His sickening smile didn't waver for a second. His mind reeling from exhaustion and pain, he decided to keep his mouth shut lest he humiliated himself any further, and walked on his knees through the opening. As soon as he was inside, without a warning, the dragging sound was heard again and Killian was in complete darkness.

Letting out a whimper, he lowered himself on the ground as slowly and with as little help of his arms as he could. He had at least enough space to stretch - not that he could stretch a lot, but he felt he'd appreciate it when, or if, he fell asleep. The stench became even worse, now with the entrance blocked, but hell, he'd spent nearly his whole life on ships, he was used to falling asleep with such foul smells surrounding him. The only thought that scared him was that he'd probably have to contribute to the stench with his own waste... in complete darkness.

Deciding he'd give himself some time as soon as he woke up to explore his cell for any corner he could do just that, he closed his eyes and for the first time since being captured that day, he allowed his body to relax completely.

#I write thangs #whump #Killian Jones #captivity #ropes #pain #ugh I can't tag #Captain Nemo

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seven-oomen · 3 years

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Hi Ben! I see you’re still enjoying the absolute insanity that has gripped tumblr the last couple of days XD . As someone who’s been a tumblr lurker for a number of years, this is hysterical enough from my side. I can’t imagine the sheer ridiculousness of seeing it firsthand. Virtually every blog I check, no matter if they’ve ever seen a SPN episode or not, has been posting about it. It is WILD.

I feel like I’m at least a little lucky that I always skewed more ‘lock’ than anything (mainly because my 'who’ took a hard dive into Torchwood and never really recovered), so there’s less emotional flashbacks/richochets/rollercoastering/etc. (Yes, I did in fact see the news about Sherlock season 5, but I never saw season 4 because of some of the feedback I heard before I got the chance to watch it, so it’ll take something truly impressive to draw me back now.) Although in a roundabout way Sherlock is what eventually led me to Teen Wolf because of multi-focus blogs, so I guess I can thank it for that.

Work was one of those super fun days where the manager leaving not long after I got there was all “Yeah, it’s been really calm, and both deliveries so far have been small and should be easy to deal with." So of course, about an hour after he leaves, four more pallets full of stuff show up, so I spent pretty much my whole shift trying to get everything checked in. On the one hand, yay, less customers, on the other, hauling that shit around in a mask gets hot.

That dish sounds delicious, and definitely better than my sad lunch/dinner at work. Ngl, I’m extremely jealous.

And omg, the last line post now has me nervous again because there are multiple options of who is saying whatever it is to whom, and all of them hurt. XD Also very here for the idea of a pack of three year-olds trying to pull a Parent Trap on their respective dads. Is there a treehouse or playhouse they can lock them into to talk? A moment of Jax and Stiles pointing out that they both agree on this, so they should know that it’s serious? Trying to make them draw or write down why they’re sad, or whatever similar coping skills the dad usually has the kid use? Trying to take away a treat of some sort/ground them from doing something/etc until they agree to talk to each other? So many possibilities.

I cackled at that coffee shop guy post, because the sheer obliviousness demonstrated by the op throughout the story is almost the exact energy being displayed by Peter in my fake dating fic and seeing a story of it happening in RL about took me out. XD

Also, I’m super curious what kinds of rituals you’re planning for the fic. Good, bad, druidic, wolfy, pack, wedding, birth, sexy, friendship, binding, warding, ??? Inquiring minds want to know (whenever you are ready to share of course. Inquiring minds can also be patient. ;D )

Oh, a funny moment at work! I was picking up one of the pallets after I’d emptied it, and there was a knot in one of the boards that I almost knocked out as I grabbed it, and my brain’s immediate thought was "Whoops, almost just popped the knot on that wood”, immediately followed by the thought “Oh god, no, jesus christ, PHRASING, tonight of all nights, no." (I am super sad that there is no one I work with that I could scream about this with.)

Anyway, I should wrap up because I need to leave for work soon. Enjoy the continuing thrill ride that is this site, and best of vibes for any writing attempts today! Take care! *Hugs!*

Okay I’m gonna add the preview to your fic from your last message to this one so I have it all in one message here. Because after writing over 3K yesterday my brain is just really tired and I keep wanting to nap today. Haven’t done much and replying to two messages is a bit much.

On the flip side, I did update Final Masquerade today and that chapter is almost 7K long. So yay!

Also, my fucking feelings while writing that. Jesus christ on a pogo stick.

And in the spirit of “Oh, did you say enemies-to-lovers? Sorry, I heard idiots-to-lovers”, here is another preview from the fake dating fic, because I love this part, and it features the first appearance of Fashion Consultant Peter:

“Peter, what the hell are you doing in my closet?” Noah’s voice sounded like it was thankfully more bemused than annoyed, but Peter knew that it could be a fine line to walk.

“Trying not to cry in despair, for the most part. Why is everything you own at least a size too big and some shade of brown?” Peter called back over his shoulder, still staring at the somewhat neatly organized rainbow of dull, listless neutrals in growing dismay.

“I’m wearing a green shirt right now, asshole, and not all of us are interested in looking like we got squeezed into our clothing by force. Some of us actually acknowledge our age, and try to dress somewhat appropriately. Some of us also understand the value of blending in.”

“Okay, firstly, age, as they say, is just a number. Secondly, there’s trying not to stand out, and there’s just giving up. Though frankly, I’ve never quite put much stock in either.”

“Color me shocked to hear that from someone I’ve seen wear a cardigan like it was an actual shirt on more than one occasion.”

Peter shrugged as he continued to rifle through hangers and peek into storage containers, though he wasn’t certain that Noah could even see him from within the depths of the walk-in. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” The sigh that answered him held a level of long-suffering, begrudging patience that Peter was far more used to hearing directed at Stiles than himself.

—–

Why yes, there is indeed a trip suit shopping in the story. Basically, I am cramming in every random obnoxiously trope-y thing I can remember from the few rom coms I’ve seen. Also, there is so much food in this story. Like, it’s ridiculous how often there someone ends up eating something. I’m not even sure where it came from.

I’ve been reading this multiple times in the last few days, it’s just so cute!

He’s in the closet huh? Is he gonna come out?

Sorry, sorry, I’ll can it XD

And honestly, I think Tumblr’s 2012 insanity streak is the only thing keeping me sane right now. Because holy shit what a week.

I never really got into Sherlock myself or Doctor Who. I think I saw one episode of Dr. who (with David Tennant I think) and three episodes of Sherlock because my mom used to watch it.

I saw 12 seasons of Supernatural though, I definitely had an obsession with Destiel and particularly Dean Winchester. Fun fact; Cosplaying Dean made me comfortable enough to come out to my friends as transgender. Because I realized that I couldn't hide my gender even if I tried so hard for over 23 years.

And it was Supernatural that eventually led me to Teen Wolf. Well, that and Grimm, which was also a really fun show and really interesting.

Oh boy, yeah whenever a manager told me that I knew I was gonna be in for a very interesting night. For sure, sucks that you had to do that in a mask though. But on the other hand, no customer interaction does sound like it was a nice break in a way. And OMG I snorted!

It’s a good thing we don’t work together, I feel like the jokes wouldn’t have ended. My god I’m still snickering.

I do have a bit of an idea to have them go to the cinema with the kids and make them watch the parent trap, which of course leads to all sorts of shenanigans back at home where Allison and Malia are constantly trying to lock the dads in a room together, aided by Derek and Laura because Malia can’t reach the door handles just yet. Meanwhile Stiles and Jackson are coming up with increasingly elaborate schemes for two three-year-olds that involve their dads being locked in tree houses, sheds, and other places. Not to mention, the kindergarten pact.

And I like to think at some point the wives and Melissa start helping the kids as well. I mean I’d really like to build one giant polyamorous family for this fic.

#ben says stuff #my convos with anon #B #submission

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dramionediscussion · 4 years

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To the slow-burn questioner. This advice is based on the assumption that your chapters are anything between 1-3k words (so the total length until the kiss is somewhere between 34k and 102k). In general, if there's any questions, when a length of is of any importance, the word count is by far the best metric. Anything else is can be seriously misleading or difficult to comment upon, because there's so much variation. E.g. I just looked average chapter lengths for my favorite Dramione fics (which are almost all novel length slow-burners) and the avg. was somewhere around 3-5k, longest being around 10k and shortest 2k. Harry Potter books themselves have around 5,5k as a contrast. When we are talking about 34 chapters, well even divergence of 1k words is considerable difference in total length (Of course, nobody expects you to predict the exact amount and stick by it. A crude approximation is totally sufficient. If you have written just chapter or two, extrapolate from that, and it probably won't be too far off base in the end).

As for the question itself, unfortunately there's no clear-cut answer, because so much depends on other factors and circumstances. As an example, I've abandoned otherwise well written Dramione fics around 6-10k, because there wasn't any inclination of any Dramione, or even faint promises of something to come. Yet, one of my favorite fics has their first kiss around 70-100k mark, and even that is a stolen kiss, and from there it takes 30-50k before it develops into a explicit (physical) romantic relationship.

Difference was that the latter had Draco and Hermione interacting and being involved into each others lives from the very start, and former had them totally separated. It can be fairly antagonistic, or devoid of any romantic sentiments (even a relationship based on a hatred and hostility is still a relationship. Other is nothingness and void, and that gives me well ... nothing). I believe that as long as a Dramione fic has them interacting, or influencing each other, or in some way intertwined into each others' lives and minds, you can have a fairly long and arduous road into an actual explicit romantic relationship.

This should be established quite early and it should occur often. As long as your fic has enough D&H moments from the very start, there's a plenty of time till things have to progress into a romance. There's a lot of room to play around, and the exact nature of these interactions and influences doesn't matter. It can fluctuate between anything from antagonism, longing, teasing, titillating, rivalry, competition, curiousness, pining, struggle, humor, denial, self-deception, lust, etc. Almost anything can work, but there has to be something.

Actually, I would go even further, and say that when this phase is done well, it can often be equal or more interesting as the relationship itself. Sometimes it is a treated like an obstacle, which a writer just have to get over with, in order to the relationship (the actual content) to make sense. Surely, it builds up to a relationship, but it can be more than just a build-up. In this phase their internal conflicts are often most pronounced, this inexplicable infatuation and irresistible attraction is most driving. There's some much material for a drama and conflict, and for a romance in its most heightened and purest form. It's not easiest part to get right, but I find this pre-relationship phase an absolute delight, when it's written well. Definitely something to savor, though conflicting motivations, subtle hints, internal struggles, sentimentality and high romanticism for various reasons are not easiest things to write satisfactorily.

How long this should, or can last at the most? Well, there really isn't an answer, because that is determinated entirely on what is actually happening between those chapters. Beyond D&H content, there has to be a sense of motion with events and their relationship. It must be seen, that things are happening and they are moving towards something (not necessarily directly and linearly towards romantic relationship. It's Dramione after all, thus detours and one step forward two steps back- situations are expected). In general events should be part of some larger context and/or chain of events, with form a cohesive whole, and support and build upon each other. No filler, or idling, or stuff for the sake of it. If it start to go into circles or not proceed for prolonged time, even promises of future potential will not keep people interested. Overall, longer anything goes on, harder is to keep it going on without it turning into either stale and boring, or totally ridiculous.

Altogether, I find this to be one of the most hardest feat to achieve with a creative work. Limiting yourself, and curtailing those temptations, because at least for me every time I think of something what I feel is clever or interesting, my immediate reaction is to squeeze it to whatever I am working at that moment. Then try to bend the larger totality to fit and compliment the added thing, and it almost never works out, and I've been better off by discarding it entirely. There's always another fic you can write, in which that discarded idea fits naturally into the flow of the story. I am not saying that this is so in your case, but if you have these concerns and this pre-relationship stage is that long, it can be a mark that it's bloated and there are parts that don't really add anything to the larger whole, and by existing actual subtract from it.

Goes without saying that events should be inherently interesting and compelling, and that is largely the factor what will make your readers stick to that +30 chapters, or give up around 1-3, kisses or no kisses. It's not pleasant thing to say, but unfortunately that will probably be largely what will determinate everything. Almost everything can work under almost any circumstances if it's well executed, and even most conventional and formally sound fic will not be well received, if the execution is not working.

This is also something that there's hard to comment or give advice in abstract, because it's so hard to define it precisely. Too complex, too elusive and there's innumerable different ways and combinations, with really subtle differences and myriad of configurations. There are some near universals (like that Dramione should have content between D&H), but I am certain there's that one fic out of tens thousands what makes opposite of that to work out somehow, despite it being a requirement for 99,99%. Even something what feels like a precondition or absolute is not necessarily so for every fic out there.

Like that text / fic should be intelligible for its readers. It's totally solid advice for almost every text out there. But then there's something like the Voynich manuscript, which is precisely interesting, because it's incomprehensible. If it was understandable, it would be just another early modern treatise on natural philosophy, maybe with some mysticism or occultism thrown in. Nothing remarkable or something what makes it enduring for anything except a footnote of the times it was written. Lack of something which is prerequisite for almost every other text, happens to be the aspect, which makes it intriguing. What I am trying to say, that anything I've written might not be true for your fic, because even something what is generally true might not be so for everything out there, and yours might be the exception (that is if my advice is true at all, even conceptually or for most Dramione readers out there, which honestly is something I don't know).

The structure you've presented sounds a little bit alarming. Pre-romance period is what 25 chapters, then conscious and active falling in love, which culminates into a kiss like 9 chapters or something? If you are aiming for a romance fic primary, that structure is not probably not going to work. Romance fic In this context defined as the main plot is development of their relationship. All other events feed or supplement it, and everything is related to that at least indirectly. Romance can have other events and even plot-lines, but solving a mystery or defeating a dark wizard is not the main plot line, but something which rather provides backdrop and material for development of their relationship.

Usually when it comes to a good structure, it is good to aim towards a certain symmetry and different parts should be at least somewhat proportional. It can be arranged by many different ways (be it a three act structure or whatever), but if the stage one is 3x longer than the stage two, well it probably won't be well received. As they read it, longer it takes to get the next thing, they'll probably expect something of similar magnitude, or at least close to it. It's quite instinctual and unconscious expectation, and usually going against something like that will not work. If you build up for a relationship for 50-75k words, people are not going to be satisfied with having only a morsel of actual relationship. In that case, it's probably better to build the entire fic in which to the goal and the end point is that they'll begin their relationship. Then possibly write a sequel, which depicts the actual relationship or dating.

That structure probably would work better, if there was some other genre along side of the romance for you to lean on (I presume angst refers more to the tone or mood, rather than the plotline. Unless you are writing something along the lines The Sorrows of Young Werther in HP universe, in which constant setbacks and suffering are pretty much the storyline). Then there's much more freedom structurally and otherwise for developing the relationship. If your fic has some other solid plotline(s) or genre to keep things interesting and moving forward. Be it coming of age, school drama, war, mystery, fantasy adventure, or anything else. That would take some pressure off from the relationship, and readers engaged in something besides that, thus they won't mind if things are sometimes on the back burner with the romance, or not exactly balanced in the end.

If you are primarily writing a romance fic, then it's better to concentrate on that fully, and provide full palette of different aspects and phases of what goes into romantic relationships. Even if it ultimately is a tragedy, or angsty. Naturally harmoniously adjusted with each other, and fitted in a complementary fashion. Each with their own ups and downs, crises and turning points. A skeleton of a relationship might look something like starting from an introduction, to attraction, then courting and wooing, then dating, then established relationship, then marriage or something similar in which relationship transitions from a private affair to a communal or public fact, then forming a permanent family like getting children, then the end like happy ever afters. (ofc, there's countless ways to categorize these, arrange them differently, split them, drop some, add some, etc, but a romance which has only couple of these, and wildly unbalanced, well it might work as a tragic and bitter sweet one, if that's what you are going for).

#dramione #submission

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alch3mic · 3 years

Text

in between. (drabble series)

chapter two (cracks.)

beast!sans x gender neutral reader. 3k+ word count.

please be advised for themes of self-loathing, violence, mentions of death, self-harm, a whole lot of cursing and depression.

* finally, here is chapter two! this one focuses more on my dear underfell sans named beast! if you’d like to know more about him, feel free to check out his full fic here over on ao3, or his tag here on my tumblr. thank you for being patient with me and i hope you all enjoy!

Beauty.

.....

..There were very few things that came to Sans' mind when thinking of that word.

After all he was probably the last person who should be havin’ an opinion on anything based on looks, but still.. a few things always came to mind.

Like the stars, of course.

And the sky.

Those things were beautiful.

..It also made him think of other things like..

Having a full day to do absolutely nothing, which was always great.

Or better yet a freshly made burger from Grillby’s, complete with the works and extra mustard.

Now that was a real thing of beauty.

...

It... also made him think of...

...Roses.. as corny as that was.

Sans never thought he'd come around to admiring flowers after living in that snowy and lifeless town all his life... and after one flower in particular gave him a hell of a lot of trouble.. but hey, living topside had certainly gave him a whole fucking list of surprises.

..Like..

The most recent addition to the small list of things he found beautiful.

...

...Which was you...

....

Even now thinking about you and that gentle glow of your soul made him tremble, and how just the single word ‘beautiful’ came to mind when he laid his eyelights upon you.

And that's.. certainly something he'd never expected to think about a human...

He was a Fell after all, and to them... appearance was everything.

From the clothes you wore, to the way you looked, everything single last detail about you was judged. That's because the very first lesson all Fell monster children were taught was that in this world, it was kill or be killed.

The people around them were not friends.

They were not neighbors or allies.

They were competition, tools and objects to be used to elevate themselves into a position of strength and status so that they may one day be considered worthy living in the eyes of their king. The Underground was their prison, and the other monsters who were also unfortunate enough to be born in that fucking hellhole with them were their test...

So.. Would you kill, or would you be killed..?

...

Obviously, many bared their teeth and claws to survive.

Life was a gift reserved only for the strong.

Weakness was a disease that was to be purged, and their king had entrusted his people to enact such a cleansing in his stead. For every monster to be given such a power over one another shaped their entire Underground into the dusty inferno that it was, eating it's people and their hope alive in it's cleaning flames. Only the brave and the mighty could prevail in that nightmare, and those who failed to prove themselves capable of even defending themselves from other monsters were... unfit.. to become warriors worthy of one day taking down humanity.

..So they were dusted..

And their EXP was the reward for those who did the deed, only making the strong, stronger...

...

For them, there was only value in strength.

In EXP.

In.. LOVE.

Emotions were a handicap.

Kindness was vulnerability.

There was only happiness to be found in being more powerful that everyone else around you.

There was only a future for you if you could prove yourself to everyone that you were worthy of getting to live another day by pushing all of that other unnecessary bullshit down, like feelings or regret, and killing everyone around you so that you could survive in that unending hell...!

..But..

...Such stats like EXP and LV were usually hidden to the naked eye. Unless a monster was born with the very rare ability to see stats with their sight, the only way to see those stats was checking through an encounter, and at that point it would be much too late. Even the smallest of creatures, with innocent smiles and bright shiny eyes, could be hiding something truly sinister beneath.

So, what better way to prove yourself and show off how strong you were than with scars.

Scars were the physical, undeniable proof of your mettle and determination. They were the marks across your fur, skin or scales that showed you had fought someone and walked away, which was quite the feat considering that under the king's decree, no encounter was ever allowed to end without a single winner and one pile of dust...

....

..The more scars you had the better, because it meant you were strong.

They were complimented, sought after and coveted above everything else for the Fell. Anyone with half a working soul would know it was fucking stupid to fight someone who looked tougher than you, so those with more scars got to live more peaceful lives.

They didn't have to live in fear of being picked off for just looking weak..

Those with scars were respected.

They were admired.

They were made out to be the pinnacle of a your existence.

And many in their desperation to be considered strong, began inflicted wounds upon themselves to get a taste of that life. They began scarring up their bodies just so that others would think that they too were worthy of living too.

It really was..

..Awful.

What an awful way to live.

What an awful thing to go through!

What an.. awful thing to be the product of.

But.. it had been their reality.. and it shaped the person San had grown to be. That's why he could only wonder why his head was spinning with thoughts of you.

A human.

Soft.

Small.

Someone who laid all of their emotions bare when they struck a cord on their guitar, opening their heart up for a moment and just letting it all go.

You were the complete and total opposite of someone like him.

Huge.

Ugly.

And.. very guarded. ...

He had spent most of his life actively pushing others away from him.

He had to, so he could protect himself.

So many monsters had weaponized feelings like love and attraction in their favor to get other monsters to let their guard down, and he wasn't about to become a pile of dust just because he was fucking lonely. One thing he promised himself about going through that hell was that he wouldn't let his emotions get the better of him.

He still had someone he cared for after all, and he didn’t want to leave his brother to live out that nightmare alone.

..The only reason they were both still here today was because they had each other..

So, he convinced himself he wasn't interested in romance.

It'd only bring unnecessary trouble.

He'd have no datemates, no interests, and most certainly..

No soulmate.

He was already convinced he didn't have one anyways, but he always swore to himself that if he found them he wouldn't let himself get sappy over it like some other idiots did.

The most he'd ever let himself do is spend a night trying to forget the fact that he was trapped in this fucking nightmare with another monster and that was it. There was no sense getting attached, someone would just turn and use that feeling against him in the end.

...

...And yet..

...He had spent all those years building up a wall...

And then just completely turned around and allowed himself to fall head over heels with one beautiful little human.

....

The skeleton let out a small groan, pinching the bridge of his nasal bone while shaking his head at the mirror. The steam from his shower was still clinging to the edges, but he could still see his dumbass reflection clear as day even in the dark.

Just... what the fuck was he doing?

...

..Setting himself up for soulbreak, that's what.

There's no way in hell a human could ever love a Fell, especially one like him. There was a reason they called him Beast! What you saw was what you got, and the crack in his skull should've been proof enough of how broken he was.

There was no sparkling personality and certainly no handsome prince hiding underneath all this

..It was just him..

....

Staring at his reflection for so long in the mirror made him want to break the damn thing, but he really didn't want to get another skull full from Papyrus from doing it twice in the same month.

'JUST SHOWER IN THE DARK SO YOU DON'T SEE YOUR REFLECTION IF YOU HATE IT THAT MUCH YOU IDIOT!'

...

Right. Yeah.. Sure..

A very simple solution to a very simple problem.

It's not like he's been struggling with self image already since his childhood days, especially considering he had only been born with 1 HP, 1 ATK and 1 DEF.

..Heh. Still made him laugh, thinking about it now.

...

..It.. must've been a joke, right?

..To be born with stats like those?

Surely whoever was running this gig was laughing their fucking ass off about it too, sending this sorry sack of bones out into a violent world with one miserable point of fucking HP.

...

...Well, he certainly hopes whoever cursed himself to such a fate also found it all funny..

..'Cause he was going to beat the shit out of them if he ever found them..

...

Most of his childhood had been spent in fear due to that knowledge.

Fear of the day he would finally enter an encounter.

The day when someone, somewhere out there would realize he had been the easiest target of all, and that just one strike would be enough for his pathetic little life to come to an end. Then he'd end up being nothing more than a pitiful pile of dust and a few meager points of EXP to someone else, and that would be the end of Sans the skeleton.

...

It would’ve been a fitting existence for a monster only born with those kinds of stats.

...

..He really thought that there was.. no way someone like him could ever be strong.

There was no chance in hell he'd ever survive down there.

...A part of him wished he never even knew.

Maybe life would've been so scary down there if he had just never known he only had only 1 HP to hang on to.

..Maybe.. he wouldn't of turned out this way...

...

In the end it would've be painless.

With only 1 HP it'd just take one hit and then it'd be all over.

One hit and he'd be done.

One hit and he'd be free.

....

It was an.. accident, the first time he activated his sight magic. He was still just a kid, standing up on a stepping stool and practicing scary faces in the mirror. He remembers it startled the absolute stars out of him when it happened since he was just trying to change the color of his white eyelights to be more threatening, but instead he...

..Well.. when he gazed back into the mirror his eyelights were definitely red.

And he could definitely see it, clear as day.

"Sans" LV 1 HP 1/1 ATK 1 DEF 1

......

...

"ya've.. gotta be jokin'.. right..?"

He remembers the silence that followed after saying that, nobody around to respond to him. Nobody was there to reassure him that'd it'd be alright. No one was there to support or care for him, or to help him through the fear settling into his bones.

Really... it must've been a joke, right?

That couldn't.. really be his stats.. right?

The phrase came out a second time, and then several more, each and every time the words picking up momentum as the maelstrom of feelings brewed in his chest louder and louder. It swished and swirled, sucking up his thoughts one by one and the whole room felt like it was spinning around him. He wanted to look away, his red eyelights unable to gaze at anything but his stats, even as the tears came to his eyesockets.

..No..

It couldn't..

It just.. couldn't!

....

...How..

..How was he suppose to be strong with those kinds of stats?!

He had to be strong!

He told Papyrus every morning and every night that he was strong!

He told his brother that he'd be become most powerful monster in the whole damn Underground, that way they didn't have to live in a shoddy broken down house!

That way they could live their lives free of worry!

That way they didn't..

...have to be..

....so scared anymore..

...

How.. how was he suppose to be survive..

With only 1 HP..?

....

...

His fists clenched, the reality of it all setting in as the number remained unchanged no matter how much he begged and pleaded. The fear melted away into anger, shooting through ever inch of his body like someone had ignited a fire through his bones. It spread rapidly, clouding his mind in a hazy and hateful fog as he stared at the number.

He couldn't think.

All he could see was 1 HP.

1 HP.

....

...

...One hit is all it took to break the mirror.

His fist connected and the glass shattered, small shards flying everywhere as he screamed out in frustration. The tears fell and he yelled again, unable to handle the heat of his hatred as he sobbed alone in the bathroom. Soon a few deep breaths left his mouth followed by a string of curses, the pain in his hand causing him to reel back a bit and inspect it through his tears. Small scrapes littered his phalanges from the impact, his hand now buzzing with a dull pain as he clutched it and glanced back up at the mirror.

His once clear reflection was distorted by twisted and ugly cracks, scattering and creating a broken image of himself.

One hit was all it took for the mirror to become break.

One hit.. and it..

...Shattered.

...Just like..

He would..

....

Imagine his surprise when he didn't.

...

He took a blow.. and lived.

And.. it became the very first scar he had ever earned..

...

....And he.. hated it.

He hated it what it did to him. He hated what it stood for. He hated the way it traveled up his dumb fucking face, always catching everyone's attention. He hated the fact that he got complimented about it back in the Underground. He hates how it's become his defining feature. He hated to how it lead to so many more scars, so many more battles, and so much more EXP, washing away his once poor stats in a wave of dust and bloating them to.. terrifying numbers.

He just..

Hated it.

...

Like how he hated himself.

...

..Ugh.

Great. Now his head was swishing around with self-deprecating thoughts about the present and the past, which he really didn't need right now. If he started acting depressed again he'd be given another certified Papyrus pep talk, and as much as he loved that egotistical bonehead he really didn't need to hear his brother prattle on for hours about his 'good qualities' and how their 'past doesn't define them'.

He sighed a final time before pulling a sweater over his head, feeling it catch and snag on some of his rougher breaks and notches on his bones. He stomped out of the bathroom, rubbing the back of his skull in frustration at himself for allowing one human to get his thoughts swishing around that broken head of his.

..Well..

It's not like he could've done anything else to prevent this. He had already steeled his emotions back when he realized how pathetic his stats had been, but all that had work just practically vanished the moment he laid his eyelights on you.

..It had.. only been a brief second too.

He had just been trailing down a runaway client after they missed their third payment. The brothers had a three strike policy, which was.. a little generous for Sans' taste but hey, he was just the brawn here not the brains, so three strikes it was...

This idiot was already on his shit list for taking advantage of their generosity and missing a third fucking payment, but then they had the fuckin' nerve to run. If there was one thing Sans hated, it was a runner.

..It was just kinda pointless, ya know? All it did was delay the inevitable and give him more work to do, as if his days weren't filled to fucking the brim with shit already. Seriously, it's like these humans had no fucking consideration for a busy skeleton like himself...

Assholes.

Still, they ran and he gave 'chase'. All he had to do was keep shortcutting as he anticipated their every step, catching them off-guard and sent them bolting off in another direction. Bastard was slippery though and having already spent most of the day working Sans’ aim was a little off. It was becoming more and more infuriating until he nearly managed to corner the bastard.

What he did not expect was for his little runaway to dive into a busy, shitty looking bar like somehow they'd lose him in there.

..And to be fair, they did.. for a moment...

...

..When his eyelights landed upon you, after taking just a few small steps inside.

....

...

You were beautiful..

....That was the only thought he had.

...

The lights had casted you into an angelic glow up on that stage, illuminating your form in a soft shade of yellow as you bobbed and swayed to the music. A small yet sweet smile was gracing your lips, your soul shining so brightly in the crowd that it was like a flame, and he was just a dumb fucking moth drawing ever closer.

..Then you struck a cord on your guitar...

...and it reverberated into his very soul.

....

It was.. so sad.

And a little lonely...

Tired.

Overworked.

Underpaid.

And...

Free.

...

He had been so completely entranced by you that it almost felt like you put him under some kind of spell. Never in his life had he been so captivated by anyone, fully admitting to himself now that he would've just scooped you up right on the spot and fled off into the night if given the chance.

..And.. a part of him was still wishing he had..

...

...The seconds had ticked away as he watched you perform, giving enough time for that rat to slip out the back and out into the night.

Shame that little bastard never made it very far in the end, but the whole fiasco had left Sans' head buzzing with the human who had completely stopped him in his tracks for what felt like an eternity now. You had looked so serene up there and he couldn't stop the fluttering of his soul in his chest every time he thought about you.

And he was thinking about you a lot.

...Which is exactly why he was also so annoyed with himself.

...

...Argh fucking.. damn it all..!

At least if he was only thinking pervy things he could let it slide as feeling lonely again, but no! Not a single perverted thought had crossed his stupid fucking head about you! It was all mundane shit, like wanting to see you smile like that again or maybe just getting a single chance to talk to you. Instead of spending his free time relaxing, he was just sitting around daydreaming about how beautiful your voice must be too and how much he just wanted to.. see you again!!

Ahh! What the fuck was wrong with him!

Just where the hell was all of this coming from, huh!?

It's like you were pulling something outta him that shoulda never been there in the first place..!

...How fucking dare you..!

....

...How dare you..

Do this to him..

...

It was too late for.. someone like him, with sullied hands and scars, to be thinking like this..

....

The only thing he deserved was to be a lonely fucking bastard.

...

If... you ever came anywhere close to him he'd just.. sully you too...

...

And yet.. despite knowing that he..

Just wanted a chance.

Just one, to see you again..

And maybe.. talk to you...

Just one single chance..

....Please...

And if you went off screaming into the night like he figured you would then..

That’d be the end of it.

He’d snuff out that little flame of hope inside his soul, and then he’d live out his lonely days hating his stupid reflection ..

..Like he deserved...

.....

....

...

"..Okay."

....

You.. said yes.

Stars above you had said yes, he..!

He couldn’t help but smile in response as his while body felt lighter than air. Although your first meeting wasn’t at all like he had hoped you were..

Here.

And right now he has a chance..

"heh. cool.. cool.. the names sans, doll. or my friends sometimes call me beast."

...

"...Pffft ehehe..!"

You laughed and somehow.. he wasn’t angry in the slightest.

"wow, really gonna take a punch at my pride like that, huh?" he asked.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry..!" you apologized between giggles. "It's really nice to meet you Sans!"

You introduced yourself to him, although he already learned your name a long ago.

But to hear you say his name like that..

Well....

"real nice ta meet you too, doll."

That flame of hope in his soul was flickering ever stronger...

That perhaps.. a Beauty really could love a Beast.

#i leave this all here for you #while i throw myself back into the void #beast!sans #sans #undertale #underfell #underfell sans #undertale fic #yandere sans #long post #fanfic #drabble #depression tw #violence tw #prince is up next ahhhhhhhhhh!#alch!writes #inbetween!fic

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