I’m not sure if this means one of mine or just one I like. So, I'mma go with one of my all time favorite fics in any fandom–The Hard Prayer by Rheanna (SGA McShep, but it falls into the “knowing canon helps, but you don’t need it category). It’s a ton of post-apocalyptic (of the everyone dies in a plague variety) hurt and some one step forward, two steps back, kind of comfort between two very fucked up people. And it’s beautiful.
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
Guilty pleasure is a concept I’ve worked hard to get away from, but for the sake of the meme, I will say that I do like the occasional really over the top, overwrought, ooc fic designed to tug at your heartstrings. I’m not talking about hard hitting, well written stuff like “The Hard Prayer” or “Somewhere Between the Bus Leagues and the Bigs” (aka That Fic That Fucked Us All Up), but the kind of thing that brings out all the cliches and has a huge happy ending. Kids are occasionally involved.
Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?
Oh God, so very many. The problem is that I’m an idea person who also runs after shiny things and then can’t put everything together. So I’ll be in the middle of something and then it’s like, but wait, this is a good idea too! I’ve worked, in the last few years, on making sure that if I have a series going, each fic in it could be an ending point. I don’t always succeed, but I try. And these days, I’ve gotten better about finishing the big projects, even without something like a Big Bang deadline pushing me.
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 plan in my head usually and it’s either random scenes or the big plot points. But what I end up with as the final product is based on letting the story unfold.
W:Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?
I’m usually ok with both, it just depends on my mood. Sometimes I like really specific ones where I don’t really have to think about what to write.
But other times, I like having general prompts because I can be more creative with my writing.
This was literally so excellent, I'm crying I feel bad for Rizzo but it all worked out in the end. Everyone is so adorable, thank you for writing this :3
5. the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you touch them.
Alright, well! This got away from me!
Kris is sixteen when he meets his soulmate in the school cafeteria.
He’s just minding his own business when he brushes past a group of bubbly, giggling girls. The back of his hand grazes one of the girl’s bare arms and everything—literally everything—comes to a complete standstill. All the noise gets sucked out of the cafeteria and it’s suddenly so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The hair stands up on Kris’s arms and the back of his neck, and electricity tingles in his fingertips.
Kris’s mom had told him this would happen to him someday but he didn’t believe her. He didn’t think there was someone out there just waiting for him to find them, like his mom always said.
But there is. And he’s found her.
He looks down at the girl and she looks back up at him. She’s tiny—the top of her head barely comes up to his shoulder—and she has long, waist-length black hair. She smells like strawberries and Kris wonders if its the shiny lipgloss she’s wearing.
“Hi,” Kris says, gripping his plastic lunch tray tightly to hide how badly his hands are shaking. “I’m Kris.”
The girl smiles at him. “I’m Jessica.”
Kris uncurls his hand from around the plastic tray and offers it to her. Jessica’s fingers are cool around his.
“N-nice to meet you,” Kris stammers. He doesn’t get nervous. He’s Kris Bryant, for crying out loud. He’s going to be a star someday. He doesn’t get nervous.
“You too,” Jessica says, giggling. She keeps hold of his hand. “You wanna get ice cream after school?”
Kris laughs. “Are you asking me out? Like, on a date?”
“Yeah. So what do you say?”
Jessica finally lets go of Kris’s hand and Kris immediately misses her cool fingers wrapped around his. His soul feels the absence of her hand like a stitch in his side. Kris wonders if he’ll always feel like this as long as he isn’t holding her hand.
Kris wants her hand back in his. It feels right. He’s never felt that right before.
Kris impulsively grabs her hand in his and everything in him slots into place like puzzle pieces. “Sounds like it’s a date.”
***
Things get complicated when Kris meets Anthony Rizzo.
He’s on a pre-game tour of the Cubs’ clubhouse after he finally inks his deal two days prior to the signing deadline. Some of the Cubs players are hanging out, waiting to meet him. Most of them look like they couldn’t care less about this kid who won’t be suiting up with them for a few years yet.
“You’re the Kris Bryant.” A guy—Anthony Rizzo, Kris thinks—runs up to Kris and grabs him unexpectedly in a big bear hug. “Nice to meet you!”
Kris goes completely still, and so does everything inside and around him. All the bustle and noise of the clubhouse leeches out, until it’s just Kris and Anthony Rizzo standing in a cocoon of electrified silence.
Rizzo gapes at him, backing away, hands up like Kris is a dangerous animal. The thought irks him.
“Whoa,” says Rizzo.
Kris just shakes his head. This can’t be. He already has his soulmate. Rizzo can’t possibly be—
“I—I don’t understand what’s happening,” Kris manages, choking on the words. He shoves a hand through his hair and tugs anxiously at it. “This isn’t possible.”
“You’re—we’re—” Rizzo isn’t faring any better, but it doesn’t make Kris feel good.
“You’re not my soulmate.” Kris finally finds his voice. “I—I’ve got a girlfriend. She’s—we’re—it’s her. This—this isn’t right. Whatever’s happening, it’s a mistake.”
Rizzo nods jerkily and rakes his hands through his unruly mass of curls. “Right. Of course,” he chokes out, backing away from Kris.
The bright light of his eyes has kind of dimmed and Kris feels guilty for some reason, like it’s his fault. It’s not his fault. Blame fate or genetics, or whatever weird magic it is that’s behind this soulmates thing for glitching out this one time. Kris has no reason to feel guilty.
“This isn’t gonna be weird, is it?” Kris blurts out.
“No, of course not. I can be professional,” Rizzo says, sounding almost peeved. “I’m not gonna, like, cry about it or badmouth you to the beat writers or whatever.”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean… We’re cool. Right?” Kris asks.
Rizzo jerks his eyebrows up nearly into his hairline. “Getting ahead of yourself, huh, kid? Your signature hasn’t even dried on the dotted line yet.”
Kris flushes like he’s been slapped. “Just saying,” he mutters, looking away so that Rizzo won’t see him blush.
In some tiny, secret, mean place deep inside, he’s relieved Rizzo isn’t really his soulmate.
***
Kris proposes to Jessica the winter after his rookie year and she says yes, of course. His mom goes gung-ho with the wedding planning, but Jessica doesn’t seem to mind. Jessica and both their moms could plan this wedding in their sleep, Kris thinks. It’s literally all they talk about or think about that winter.
He doesn’t mind. He’s excited. He’s going to be marrying his soulmate, his perfect other half.
His fingers still tingle with electricity whenever he’s around Rizzo. The hair stands up on his arms and the back of his neck. A tiny part of him—okay, a pretty big part of him—aches whenever he’s around Rizzo and doesn’t touch him, like a bruise that just won’t heal or a cut that won’t scab over.
The Bryzzo social media stuff just makes it even harder. Sometimes people tweet Kris pics of him and Rizzo together and add silly captions. People tweet him thinking that he and Rizzo are actually together, that they’re a real couple, and it hurts. That empty place inside him aches. It’s never stopped.
Kris is an expert at ignoring it. He plays through pain nearly every day; it’s just a fact of life. This type of pain is no different.
Sometimes he wonders if Jessica can feel that empty place in him. He wonders if it bothers her.
It bothers Kris, but he tries. He pushes it down, he ignores it, he buries it by diving headlong into baseball.
It’s a sleepy summer afternoon game, Cubs have run up the score all day, and Kris isn’t paying attention. He’s drifting, lets his mind wander to idle thoughts of Jessica and all the episodes of Real Housewives that she’s been collecting on their DVR and is threatening to make him watch. He’s not paying attention until he hears Rizzo’s voice, panicked and shrill—“Kris, fuck!”—and feels an icy stab of fear lance his chest.
Kris looks up just in time to catch sight of the ball whistling through the air—right at his face.
He only has a handful of moments to brace for impact, then everything is on fire, everything hurts.
Then everything goes black.
***
Kris opens his eyes slowly, one at a time, and blinks up at the chalky white ceiling.
Kris realizes he’s in a hospital. He’s familiar with the incessant, droning beep and buzz of hospitals. His head is heavy, full of fog, and his mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. When he tries to swallow, it sticks in his throat and he starts coughing. The coughing hurts, and it feels like he’s just pulled stitches somewhere.
He closes his eyes against the garish lights and everything goes blessedly blank.
“Oh, thank God. You’re up.”
Rizzo.
Kris doesn’t open his eyes. It’s too much effort, too much work. Everything hurts too much.
Rizzo shuffles closer. Kris can almost see an outline of Rizzo’s aura at the side of his hospital bed even though his eyes are closed. The aura shimmers in blue and red.
“Th-thanks for—for staying with me,” Kris chokes out.
“Um, Jessica is on her way,” Rizzo says, wrapping Kris’s hand in both of his.
A warm, calming sensation suddenly floods over and through Kris, dulling the throbbing pain in his face until he doesn’t feel much of anything at all.
“What happened?” Kris mutters.
“You’re lucky,” Rizzo says. “You managed to turn your head just in time. You’ve got a mild concussion and, like, twelve stitches under your right eye, but nothing’s broken.”
Kris forces his aching eyes open. “So that’s why my head feels like it’s the size of a watermelon,” he quips.
“You don’t look too bad,” Rizzo says, smiling affectionately down at Kris. His cheeks dimple and the smile looks really good on him.
Kris wishes he could sit up right now and taste Rizzo’s smile. He settles for holding his hand.
“I feel like shit,” Kris says.
Rizzo’s smile widens. “I’ll say.”
“I mean… I felt even worse until you touched me.” Kris’s voice falls to a whisper. Somehow, whispering the truth makes him feel a little bit better. “You’re holding my hand right now, and it feels right. It feels like the last puzzle piece just fit in place.”
Rizzo shakes his head. “You were right before. We’re not—we’re not—whatever. You’re getting married.”
“When you touched me that first time, everything went quiet. Just like me and Jessica,” Kris says, struggling to sit up while still keeping hold of Rizzo’s hand. “It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re only supposed to get one soulmate. But I’ve got two.”
Rizzo just stares at him and shakes his head slowly. “Dude.”
“You feel it, don’t you?” Kris asks.
Rizzo looks at their joined hands. “Yeah. But Jessica—”
“I’m not gonna break up with her,” Kris cuts in. “I love her. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. All I know is… Fuck, my face hurts.”
Rizzo laughs a genuine laugh. Kris feels it in his chest like a ghostly ache. “You know, when you got smoked by that line drive I felt it. Whole right side of face started throbbing.”
“That’s true soulmate love right there,” Kris says, lifting Rizzo’s hand so that he can kiss his knuckles.
“If you’re not gonna leave Jessica…what am I supposed to do with this?” Rizzo pulls his hand free of Kris’s to gesture to his chest, to his heart.
Kris’s fingers reach out for Rizzo’s of their own accord, snaking out over the metal bedrail. “We’ll—we’ll figure it out, somehow. The three of us.”
Rizzo lets Kris take hold of his hand. “We’re an anomaly,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of Kris’s hand. “Capriccio del destino, my nonna used to say. Don’t look so worried, it’s totally a good thing.” Rizzo rubs his thumb between Kris’s eyebrows and laughs.
“Capriccio del destino,” Kris echoes. “What’s that mean?”
Rizzo leans in and kisses Kris on the lips all quick and chaste and sweet. It’s somehow not enough and entirely too much at the same time. Kris is left shaking and breathless and yearning for more.
Rizzo murmurs against the side of Kris’s mouth, “A quirk of fate.”
He smiles and kisses Rizzo back. A quirk of fate. Kris thinks he likes the sound of that.
B: A pairing you didn’t initially consider but someone changed your mind.
😐😐😐
I can’t answer that. It would destroy the reputation of this blog. Forever. So, I’ll choose another one of your suggestions, and go with Aaron Rodgers/Jay Cutler.
H: Do you prefer real - life tv shows or animated tv shows?
Fuck me up, why won’t you! Um... hmm. I guess I’ll go with real life tv shows, because anime, as great as some of them are, always make the protagonist irrationally powerful, and/or a plain idiot who should have been killed a thousand times. I hate such characters. I have only a pair of anime protagonists (the cover ones, I mean) I actually like.
Not that TV shows are always superior, far from it, but they hit much closer to reality, which is something I appreciate in my age. Well, with a bit of a happy ending, no?
R: A pairing that you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships.
Me with Joe Flacco. 😐
I don’t have any weird pairings to be honest. I am really vanilla at these things. I always pair those who please me aesthetically together, or those that have a history to tell.
