So, this isn't an ask. lol I honestly just wanted to let you know that I loved Smoke Eater. I think of it often too. You're an amazing writer, and it was Smoke Eater that helped get me out of my comfort zone and start my own AU. I guess I just wanted to tell you that I really admire your writing style and one day, hope to be as good as you are at writing. :) <3
Hey there, lovely!
Aw thank you so much!! Smoke Eater (firefighter!Dean x Reader) was and is a labor of love, despite its challenges. 😂 That story actually helped me get out of my comfort zone in many ways, so that's amazing that it inspired you in your own writing! I love to hear that. 💜
You’re such a talented writer. You always make people feel so strongly about your characters, even if they’re only a side character. You manage to develop them so well. It’s a huge goal of mine, to be honest. I want readers to react to my characters the same way I react to yours.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Anon, what a lovely thing to say and send! Thank you for this.
Happy ffwf! Personally, what is a fic of yours that you think is underrated?
Hi Ash!💗
Okay, this is a pretty good question... and after a quick thinking, I'd say that's dead eyes. I remember being extremely excited after writing this fic because I thought the idea was nice and I was proud of how it turned out! But I guess the character I chose to tell the story wasn't very likeable so it never really got much love😂
you die. you die and you feel it, every excruciating inch. every nail dig, every lungful of desperation gulped down that can never fill the well that sits in the bottom of your belly.
you smell of frankincense, of grace, of blood; you’re choking on blood and air and they stare upon you. thousands of firefly eyes that look up on you, reverent, forgiving, holywater sin that you’re drowning in.
spreadeagle arms, your eyes stare upon the cathedral, nailed and held still, you think He’s looking upon you, and know that you have never wanted to burn but that is all you crave, at this moment. breathless, pure, bloodied.
the only thing that changes is whose blood it is.
blood in your mouth, your throat, your chest; you’re forever drowning in it. slit from navel to throat, maybe the only thing that will spill out is rosesweet holywater.
maybe you’d swallow that down, too.
it always comes down to the blood in your mouth.
holiness and light and self hatred; pinned like a butterfly, coyote gold eyes. never again shall you be yourself.
something is growing inside of you, with each stuttering exhale, with each swallowed down grace shard that they press to your mouth with theirs. they take your jaw, mouth to mouth, kiss you with a tenderness you think you never wanted to know from them.
a great something is born, and it knows only cages, knows only cages and shackles. only blood and pain, holiness and light and revenge and you have borne it with familiarity.
you have lost count of how many times you know this pain. the slick slice of nails, in wrists, in ankles. the hyperextension of your chest, blood and grace, holy rosewater replacing the breathlessness.
eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani! cried, hollered, swallowed down in angelic sweet mouths that give only grace and no life.
you haven’t forsaken him, but he has you, but maybe that’s the secret.
maybe that’s the thing that you’ve never been able to get through to your head. you close your eyes, old age rituals, suicides always go to hell you know. but this is not like all those years before.
before your home, before dean, before everything.
in the end there was you, your brother, your angel.
before everything, there was only you and the morningstar forever burning bright, light-bringer, other half of your soul that you never wanted.
you burnt him out of you, and even then it’ll never be enough.
(that’s the secret.
you were burned, you were about to burn, you are still on fire.)
in gerber, oaklahoma, it’s three am and here, here you’re drowning in feathers, in grace, in blood, in the forgiveness you force yourself to feel as they crowd,
live, the angels, the demons, your brethren say. rise, rise rise!
you cannot hear for the blood.
you’re thankful for it.
INTERMISSION.
now.
now there is only you. only you, and those coyote gold eyes.
you arise, you arise and you arise. you are bent wood and rusted nails, something inside you have been borne anew.
messiah they breathe, they pray, they holler.
they took your body into their arms, fashioned themselves into your cross.
in the trench site of your heart, yarrow flowers bloom and wither in seconds, far deep beneath your ribs, your heart, everything you ever knew. .
from your hands, your feet, your back, your ribs, blood pools, slick and black and glistening. your crown of thorns are rotting, splitslick with your own blood. you do not feel the pain of it.
your brethren fall to their knees, angels and demons alike, your brother, your angel, they alone stand in the fields. your angel, your warrior, he gazes upon you, veins black, splattered, dismorphing, leviathan teeth grin.
lightbringer, one calls upon you. they are slit, navel to throat. no. no, you are not the lightbringer, not the morningstar.
you swallowed him down, and down into your belly went michael too
I was feeling a bit insecure about my writing skills but then I found an old story in a notebook from several years ago and I realised I'm a lot less terrible than I was, which motivated me to carry on getting better, and that's the mood for today
There's a good case we aren't gonna make it on December the 14th. I don't like being pessimistic but you gotta be ready for everything. If all hell breaks loose I want to tell everyone that Tumblr has always been my favourite thing in the world and it kept me company during dark hours. I really don't want it gone alongside with all the brilliant blogs and fandoms and friends. You were, are and will always be the best guys! Don't let anyone bring you down and always keep fighting!
What fandom means to me is difficult to describe. I’ve come and gone. I’ve given my first ‘verse and my first novel and my first novellas to fandom. I’ve thought the chapter of my life was over, and then I’ve come back more than once. I’ve found that characters are inexplicably woven into who I am now. I’ve found that Dean Winchester broke my gender binary and Sam will talk me through almost anything. I’ve found that remembering those two starving kids who grew up hungry like me has gotten me through tons of things. I’ve found burning John Winchester on the ceiling therapeutic. I’ve found writing fusions to be challenging and fun. I’ve learned that I enjoy pinch hitting in challenges. I’ve learned and processed so much about myself, and while it began in a weird way with Supernatural, I’ve found myself able to switch into other universes, write crossovers, and the like. Fandom is currently one of the things saving my life. Fandom reminded me that chosen families are real and to always keep fighting. It taught me about Hollywood and stardom, and exactly where I want my work to go. It taught me so much.
