I’m used to memory issues, I’ve had them for a long long time, but they still suck. I’m so afraid of upsetting people even if I’ve warned them before that my memory is horrible. It’s seems like everyone says their memory is bad so when I say it, people kinda go, “it’s okay, me too!” and brush it off. But then later down they line they don’t understand when I can’t remember important things, when I only have two or three small blurry memories of us together over several months worth of hanging out. My worst fear is that they’ll think I don’t care enough about them to bother remembering, and that is usually what happens. I’m lucky that my close friends understand, but it’s hard to make and keep new friends, and it really sucks… I don’t mean to forget and trust me, I desperately want to remember, I’m so sorry I just can’t.
“And the words just flowed out her fingertips like water in a river, flawlessly and clear, as if it were her own story to cherish and protect, her own story to tell the world.”
hEY HEY @jilliancares UNDERCOVER ANONYMOUS HERE. Well not anonymous anymore *wiggles eyebrows*. I ended up making a quote for you, it wasn’t difficult at all, those were the words that first came when i thought of you.
I’m also that annoying girl that sent you an ask about how much im dying because i want to read TBB (and now that I accidentally read that they kissed the temptation is strong) but that im saving it until is complete, lel.
After you answered my ask i felt the sudden urge to make you something because you always give us and i just wanted to show you my gratefulness (is that a word?) by giving you something and when inspiration comes, you better take it gurl.
Even if I already said it, thank you for your stories, I know it takes time to make them, and I find so unfair that fanfiction writers are so underrated so I wanted to show you that all your effort doesn’t go to waste, that we love every tiny little bit of it. So THANK YOU VERY MUCH<3
And before I lose my confidence to post this here we go~
last year while I was recovering from surgery and dealing with a lot of pain I decided I was going to write some Spirk fanfic to make me feel better so I went into a hydrocodone induced writing frenzy and I wrote six thousand words of pure shitty fluff and I fucking uploaded it to AO3 and it is actually the most successful fic I’ve written and yeah I’m probably going to hell
Sorry this is so late, I have NO time to write anymore but no way was I missing FSA Week! Enjoy the semi-canon compliant Scerek! (Set… after Scott becomes a True Alpha and Derek stops being an Alpha. I don’t really remember much about canon though so some things might be off!)
The Way Things Are
Derek always keeps a packed bag at the bottom of his closet.
If there’s time, he’ll stuff more of his things into it before taking off, but
if not… If not, he’ll still have the basics. He’ll be able to get by.
It’s a habit that started on the drive to New York. His
family was dead and it was his fault and he and Laura ran east because… because
what else there was to do? They hadn’t bothered with the paperwork or the
insurance and so it was just them. A sixteen year old murderer and his nineteen
year old sister-turned Alpha and they both only had a bag of clothes. Just the
clothes on their back (that still smelled like smoke) and whatever they had
stuffed into the lockers at school.
When they finally stopped for clothes, they kept them in the
plastic bags they came in and still didn’t bother to unpack. No point when
you’re moving to a different motel room every night.
Then, in New York, he kept up the tradition. Because for a
while, Laura didn’t know how to do
all the paperwork and it was pay the landlord with cash the first month and use
their car as some kind of bluff as to how they were good for the rest and hope
they could scrape enough together for the second and more often than not, they
left in the middle of the night to avoid confrontation.
Even when the money came through, they sometimes left by the
light of the moon. Derek thinks Laura was afraid of hunters finding them or
nervous about CPS realizing that Derek never bothered to re-enroll in a school
or maybe she just couldn’t let them stay longer than a few months in one spot.
He didn’t complain. For that or for anything else. She
convinced him it wasn’t his fault eventually, but he still… he didn’t blame
He only blames her for leaving him behind. And even then,
it’s not blame, not quite, it’s… regret, maybe, and a dull, deep pain.
In autumn, he’d lost her, and a part of him wasn’t even
surprised. It was the same ending, just three years after the others.
He’d felt her passing in his bones and woke up and maybe
there was a dull sense of God, no but
mostly it was I should have known.
He’d grabbed his bag – already packed – and didn’t bother to grab the rest of
his stuff and he’d left.
He keeps a packed bag at the bottom of his closet. That’s
just the way things are.
I can’t deal with Dear Theodosia because it goes from “I’ll make it right for you” to “We’ll make it right for you” and it just sounds like Hamilton and Burr are gay dads with twin children and because I’ve never actually seen it there’s nothing in the world that will convince me otherwise
I cannot hug you through the internet, so I’ll let these idiots snuggle instead.
The scarf is Ronan’s. It’s been knit into intricate dark grey and black zigzags of thick Irish wool, but is softer than silk, which means it must be a dream thing. Adam doesn’t care about its provenance. Technically he stole it off of Ronan and never gave it back, but it’s one of the few things he would have happily accepted freely from Ronan even if it had cost a ridiculous sum. It smells like Ronan–spicy cologne and raven pet and soft leather and forest moss–and it’s warm like Ronan when Adam presses it against his skin. Even on days when it’s been carelessly tossed aside to sit in the coldest corner of his room he comes back to find it still bearing a very human heat.
okay this is my first time writing please be kind. i’m sorry that this is quite sad.
You are an idiot. You told me not to worry, “how many times
Swan, I’m a survivor” so I let you come with me. Why did I do that? You haven’t
woken up yet. Whale says it’s not looking good, but I won’t accept it. You
always come back to me this isn’t anything different. I’m here, I love you.
5th March 2013
You still haven’t awoken and it’s kind of worrying me a
little. But you’re a survivor I know that so I chase that worry away. They are
taking you down for surgery tomorrow. Apparently the injury is worse than we
thought and you have internal bleeding. But I’m taking a page out of my
mother’s book and I have hope. I love you.