#this is a very old snippet from a longer work I scrapped

[sylkiddsey]

Prompt: “Are you okay?”

Post 7.21

Sylvie has Olivia to blame for this new…feeling she’s developed for Casey. It’s entirely inappropriate and ridiculous, but her friend had to plant the seed.

Before, Sylvie’s never ever looked at Matt that way. He’s freaking Casey. Gabby’s ex husband and the same man she’s known for nearly half a decade. It never even crossed her mind until the stupid double date she set up.

Olivia was supposed to be the one crushing (or at least feeling) on Matt Casey. Not her. She thought they’d be a perfect pair, but turns out she just set up the worst turn of events in history.

If she’s dishing out blame, a little of it has to go to Matt. Yes, Olivia did plant the idea, but she didn’t buy it right away. She thought her friend was crazy, but then Matt started looking at her.

He’s holding eye contact longer and lingering and he’s not making it easy to bury whatever this feeling is. Something feels like it shifted on his end, but she’s probably reaching. She’s probably inventing a ridiculous narrative and there is nothing there.

There’s nothing there. It’s merely a pique per se. It’ll go away as soon as it blossomed and life will be okay.

Until then, she’s made a vow to ignore Olivia’s spin class invitations and also avoid Matt.

She thinks that’s how the problem began. It’s true that they’ve been spending one on one time more than ever. The new closeness has simply confused her. If she keeps distance, she can uncross the wires and go back to thinking of Matt as Casey.

He’s just the Captain at 51.

Her plan to dodge him is put on pause because they have unfinished business. When she walks into Molly’s after stalling in her car, Matt’s roman candle burn isn’t bandaged.

That’s not really the issue. She knows it’s been a few days so it’s okay to stop reapplying bandages, but she knows him. He doesn’t take care of himself and she needs one last long look to ensure it’s not infected.

She’s just doing her due diligence as a paramedic. It’s simply work.

Casey looks away from his conversation with Severide, waving her over.

See? Gestures like that make this really really hard.

She inhales a large gust of air and then joins her friends.

“Hey. Haven’t seen you around here in awhile,” Casey comments.

She’s been avoiding him for this very reason. He’s the reason she’s keeping her distance and he noticed. Why did he notice?

No. Nope. She’s sure he’d notice anyone dodging Molly’s. All of 51 is usually there every night.

“Yeah. Just been busy,” she fibs.

Stella dries a glass behind the bar. “What would you like to drink, girl?”

Alcohol is a bad idea. It loosens her lips and she’s not going to get caught blabbing these new developments.

“Uh, just a club soda,” she replies.

Severide wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Are you quitting alcohol or something?”

No, she’s quitting these awkward feelings. She’s so nervous she’s convinced everyone at the bar can read this secret right off her.

She’s going to check Casey’s burn, find Cruz to busy her time and then leave.

“I’m just not feeling it tonight is all.”

Stella hands her the non-alcoholic beverage while chastising her kind of ex-boyfriend.

Foster pops up next to her and she’s convinced this can’t get worse. Of all people, Emily will be able to read her like a damn book.

She needs to leave or at least pull it together. She sips the soda.

Matt frowns a little, watching her every move which again, does not help. He needs to stop caring.

“Are you okay?” He asks. “Your hand is shaking.”

Oh my god! She needs to leave. This is humiliating and everyone is going to know if she doesn’t pull herself together.

It’s freaking Matt Casey. She shouldn’t feel this nervous around him.

She diverts the conversation away from her physical symptoms of this new…feeling. “I should probably check your burn one last time to make sure it’s not infected.”

“It’s fine.”

“Casey, let me verify that, please?” She requests. Yes, she wants to ensure he’s fine, but she also wants to bury this whole weird week away. She can’t do that when his injury is still on her mind.

He complies and rotates on the stool so she has a full view. She barely inches forward and doesn’t make any attempt to touch the skin around his pulse point this time. She only needs visual confirmation.

It should be quick and easy, but it’s not.

Foster knocks her hip into hers. She’s half convinced her ambo partner somehow knows and it’s an intentional act because the momentum shoves her right into Matt.

She stumbles in between his legs, hands pressed between their chests. She’s bracketed between his thighs and blushing harder than she ever has when his hand lands on the small of her back.

The universe is so cruel.

She blinks hard, swallowing the lump in her throat. She thought the intense eye contact in the bunk room was bad, but now she’s millimeters away from his face.

Everyone in the bar has to know by now that she’s crushing (or whatever) on him. In any other instance, she’d find this situation awkward, sure, but not like this. Normally, she’d pull away with a laugh and a joke, but she’s paralyzed against him.

She expects several different pairs of eyes on them, but Matt’s the only one looking at her.

He laughs a little. “Woah, you okay?”

No. No. No. She’s not. Something has changed and she’s not okay.

She has to go. She can’t stay wrapped in his arm another second even if the tiny, deranged part of her wants to.

Sylvie tries to step away casually, but she reels back so hard that she smacks into Severide who is now between her and Foster.

“Geez, Brett,” he comments.

“S-Sorry,” she stutters. She averts her eyes away from Matt who is still looking at her curiously. “I gotta go talk to Cruz about you know, room dog stuff. I’ll catch you all later.”

With that pathetic lie, she snags her glass and beelines towards where Cruz and Chloe are sitting in the back.

She’ll make a fake conversation so no one at the bar thinks she lied and then leave.

She’s doubling her efforts to avoid Matt.

[titleleaf]

17, 18, and 29 for the fic asks pls 😘

17: talk about your writing and editing process

I write out of order, which causes me no end of trouble but I can't seem to shake it. (Like, if I'm writing five scenes, A-B-C-D-E, I'll write D first, then keep going to E, then look back and write C, then go further back and fill in A and B.) It feels almost redundant to say I'm a pantser and not a plotter given how short my works tend to be, but when I'm working on something that's looking to be upwards of 5k (or longer than a single scene) I do generally work with an outline to make sure all the right parts end up on the page. I edit while I write, then go through and review all instances of placeholder marks (for me, left-hand square brackets, like [this) to confirm/replace/investigate whatever they flag, then do a final pass or two or three before posting. I sometimes work with a beta, but I have a hard time overcoming my anxiety around that kind of pre-publication feedback, so it's something I want to work on doing more often in 2025.

18: if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

I very seldom keep deleted stuff unless it's a large chunk of text that's getting in the way for editing/flow reasons. I usually extract it and set it aside to figure out if it can fit in someplace else, or if I'm just being precious about an image or a phrase or something and need to cut it entirely. (When I went looking for old fic drafts where I cut sections I just ended up finding a bunch of mostly-finished fics I haven't even posted yet, which, oops, I am going to remedy as soon as I can.)

I did just find this for "like wolves and little girls" (AMC IWTV, Santiago/Claudia noncon, heed the tags):

It still feels creepy, talking to somebody without moving your lips, never knowing exactly when they're going to answer. Her diary only listens; a vampire can talk back.

Not sure why I cut it or where it was cut from in the fic, but it was there. I originally started writing the whole fic from Santiago's POV before scrapping it, so there's a bunch of cut lines from his POV in here too, mostly descriptions but I guess some dialogue.

"Do you remember, Claudia?" Pitching his voice to a sonorous growl, an evocation of the orator: "The Dark Gifts must never be given to the crippled… the maimed…or to children." "Is that what I am? Is that it? Back when Armand got made, I'd have been married with two kids. I'm not a baby." "What are you, Claudia? A girl, a woman, both, neither? Nothing at all."

29 how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

Not very. I used to have a junk-drawer document full of snippets of stuff I wanted to use for titles, or picked out as potential title material in the future, but I haven't done that in a long time, maybe I should get back on that.

[sundogsandrainbows]

Of Elves And Humans: Redux, WIP-Saturday snippet.

I love to write scenes of Alistair/Warden like the next person, but sometimes you need just scenes of the group interacting with each other, and i love how this came together here, using the canon party banter in between 😁

-------------------------

The tavern’s main hall was a lot livelier than when Lenya left it hours age. The durgen’len was playing cards with the bard and assassin, who accused them of cheating with their successive wins. Sten methodically cleaned and polished his armor parts while Wynne held up her large, knitted piece of yarn in his direction, as if measuring up the size of the Qunari with it. 

“I don’t think I have enough wool…” she grumbled under her breath, not destined for her ears and yet amusing. And Shale observed it all so quietly from a shadowed corner that one could mistake her for the tavern’s inventory. Lenya gave the golem a wave when passing by, but she was fully in her ‘I don’t care’ mode, and did not react. Fitting somehow, since there was not much to do, other than waiting out the storm raging outside. Lenya still had to tend to her own equipment, but meh, later. She steered toward the card-playing trio and acknowledged them with a nod. 

“Lenya, hi!” Leliana said brightly. “Are you feeling better?”

She sat down on the bench opposite of them. “No more headaches, if this is what you are asking.”

"Good, I’m glad to hear this! Let me finish this round and… then there is something I need to talk with you about, if that’s alright?” 

Ah, always leaving her an out, always cautious. Given their tenuous relationship, it wasn’t a surprise, but perhaps no longer needed. The bard wasn’t as obnoxious as she’d been, or appeared to be, in the beginning. Quite the opposite, she was helpful and very skilled with the bow, at that. Which reminded her… “Sure. There is something I need you to ask too.” Odd that Alistair wasn’t around, though. Was he sleep– 

“Wynne?” Oh. He was coming down the stairs just moments after her. Lenya smiled. Speak of the Dread Wolf. 

“Yes, Alistair?” the mage replied to him with the patience and tone of a mother.

“My shirt has a hole in it.” To make his very whiny point, he steered directly toward the old rocking chair she occupied at the fireplace. He bunched up the torn fabric at his side and poked his finger through it. “Look!”

Wynne was unimpressed. “I see. And?”

“Can you mend it?” 

“Can't you mend your own clothes? Why do I have to do it?”

“Sometimes I pick up too much fabric and it ends up all puckered and the entire garment hangs wrong afterward. And you're... you know, grandmotherly. Grandmothers do that sort of thing, don't they?“

And people wondered why Lenya gave him the puppy nickname and used it for months. This man was taking all his cues from Revas when he was begging for scraps and even Morrigan couldn’t say no to, then. Kinda adorable, though.

“Darning socks and whatnot. You don't want me to have to fight darkspawn in a shirt with a hole, do you? It might get bigger. I might catch a cooooold.” 

There was a pout in his voice, no need to see his expression to know of its existence. 

“Oh, all right.  Give it to me then,” Wynne gave in, had never any chance than to do so. Perhaps he should use that technique to ask the archdemon to leave Ferelden the fuck alone. It would actually work. “But first, fetch me my darning satchel placed next to the fireplace, young man.”

“What is it that amuses you so, my dear Warden?” Lenya flinched, clasped her ear as hot breath grazed it. Shivers ran down her spine, but not of the good kind.

“Eww, don’t whisper into my ear, you weirdo!”

“Apologies. Enraptured as you were, I had to do that to get your attention.” Zevran chuckled, leaned in even closer to look past her. “What is it that made you smile so, I wonder…”

“I didn’t –”

“Oh, I see.” Lenya turned toward the assassin who drew away with another warm, if very irritating laughter. Sitting back down, he continued his card match as if he’d never been a cryptic weirdo to her just now.

“See, what exactly?”

He only glanced up for a second from his stack of cards before playing a pair of eight. “Ah, this is for you to figure out, my dear.”

Ugh, why did this elf have to be —

“Hah, I won!” Oghren banged the table, hard. “Nug suckers! Round is mine!”

Zevran grabbed the table’s edge with both hands to stop it from shaking and possibly toppling over. “Yes. I have to admit, you bested me after all, my stout friend!” he said in an even tone that revealed he’d let him win, so he’d stop complaining. Well, whatever.  

“Lenya!” Leliana lay down her set of cards and looked at her. “Can you… come with me?”

“Nel?” Alistair’s version of her name was shrill on his lips and he crossed his arms over his chest to cover himself. Huh, why was he not wearing… ah. Right. The hole in his shirt that – 

“Lenya… hello?” She nearly jumped out of her seat as the bard appeared in her vision and waved in front of her face. “I have been calling you twice now…did you not –” She turned around and back right after with a particular smug smile. Ugh. “Ah, I see. Enjoying the view, hmm?”  [...] 

[dorylinae-supremacy]

💀 Necromancer AU 💀

Wooo I'm home finally time to post my snippet!

Uhhh AU I've posted vaguely about before but its basically Phil being a delulu necromancer who thinks of himself as an artist and ends up accidentally making himself a son (or three) as he decides to explore a new 'era of art.'

Tags: Dark Phil, darker than usual so heads up, explicit gore, i mean its a necromancer au, idk what you expect, dead boar, graphic description of corpses / rot, grubs / insects, ~584 words, you get the vibes as you read.

Phil liked to think of himself as an artist.

Really, if you thought about it, that's what he was. He took what was discarded by others and turned them into wonders of art that few could even begin to imagine.

Sure, sometimes his artworks liked to rebel. Some parts simply rejected their other parts and forced him to find new materials that would actually be able to fit but that's what made it fun. It kept him thinking.

No piece of art was ever truly done, sometimes one might get a bit too reckless and a part might fall off. Luckily as a witch he was able to fix such minor mistakes. He was able to toy with the very material of reality and he could turn it into the most beautiful of pieces.

That's what led him here, he was desperate for a new piece to work on. All others had slowly lost their shine, no longer filling him with satisfaction every time he looked at them. Now he looked at his old works and only saw mistakes, things he could've done better if given the chance. He didn't bother recycling them; the parts felt tainted and useless.

This work would be a brand new start. A clean slate for him to test all his skills on. Luckily there was a market for his discarded pieces, people looking to snatch up whatever shit he decided he didn't want anymore. It'd be pathetic if they weren't giving him such good money for it.

Or maybe that made it even worse? He was never sure. It wasn’t like he cared enough to, after all. They gave him money and he gave them crap. It worked out wonderfully in his favour.

Tonight he was following a path through the woods that led him to his harvesting grounds, a scrapyard that had unwittingly become the source for his most recent materials. The pieces he was able to find always had some knack about them, a quirk that told a story. It made wonderful fuel for his imagination.

He surveyed the ground, sending out little magic tendrils to feel for the telltale spark of opportunity. He always allowed his magic to guide him in his artistic pursuits, the mana that fuelled his veins had amazing taste in scraps.

He shifted the grip on his shovel as he made his way to the first blip, eagerly cracking open the earth below him. A couple minutes of digging and he was soon rewarded for his effort.

In the shallow grave sat a boar, bloated and rotting. Flies and whatever other insects had already gotten to it, maggots working their way out of where they were laid. The stench of death wafted with the disturbed soil but he didn’t let that bother him. 

It felt almost welcoming, something so familiar about it bringing him a warm comfort.

There was no doubt that livor mortis had already set in for this cadaver, the fur wet and sticky against his hands as he hefted it out of its pit. Eagerly, he brushed away the squirming grubs from their feeding grounds in favour of inspecting the corpse a bit more.

Some of the insects were clearly still inside, skin writhing when muscles have long gone still. It would do well for a new piece of art. The little skin that he could see was a deep purple in colour, confirming his suspicions of blood pooling.

That wouldn’t do, though.

It wouldn’t do at all.

[stillagoodwitch]

sude omg hiiii my lovely!!!!!! was just listening to the new sabrina songs + having a blast + was wondering abt all your thoughts on them mwah!!!!!!!<33333 love you xx

HI THEAA!!! omg i'm so glad you're enjoying them i love you happy valentine's dayyyyyy just remembered when i told you to listen to the things i wish you said and now we're hereee crazy... I LOVEEEEE THEM.... made me reflect on the day eics fwd got released and it's wilddd how different everything is.. warning for a lot of parasocial behavior under the cut thank you for giving me the chance to display it <333

how are youuuuu how is your day going are you doing well and how do you feel about themm which one is your favorite

15 minutes is soooo insane and it feels like a great victory lap like!!!!! she's been working herself to the bone since she was 12 and she's here and she's one of the biggest people in the world,,,, just unreal,,, and she knows exactly what to do with her 15 minutes of fame and my mouth dropped. there was a scrapped snippet i really wanted on sns where she was talking about how everyone's kissing her ass now and acting like nothing happened after not supporting her through an insane hate train that ruined her life and WE GET HER TALKING ABOUT IT HERE TOO!!! i feel very passionate about that like literally everyone adored her and always talked about how amazing she was and how much they respected her and then Bam it became trendy to hate on her and suddenly all of them wanted in on the joke and also many of her friends distanced themselves from her. SHE WAS JUST 21 AND HAD DONE NOTHING WRONG... also it lasted way longer than a usual online hate train considering it was the pandemic and everyone was just looking for something to talk about!! anyways i'm sure it got much much worse now since the previous scrapped song considering she's universally adored by the most talented people in the world... "where did all these parties come from when did all you bitches get so nice? running out of the woodwork and hoping there's no brain between my eyes." EXACTLYYYY CHANGED MY LIFE.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FT DOLLY PARTON!!!!!!! SHE LITERALLY HAS DOLLY PARTON SINGING ON HER ALBUM AFTER BEING ON CHRISTINA'S SOOOO WILD. i've seen people say mixed things about this one but i love it?? i think it's amazing<3333 what a great time to live i love the country and i love the mv where they kidnap and bury the guy from the original mv<33

couldn't make it any harder NOW THIS SONG!!!! definitely things i wish you said of this album, i got into sabrina bc of her vocals when i was 12 and of course they're completely different now and for sure 12 year old me would be floored. i just sat down and thought about it a little like i was littleee me and i would sit at the back of the school bus at 6am and would listen to her singing too young live and think wow i don't really care much for this girl but i might be in love with her voice... lol... ANYWAYS IT ALSO WRECKED ME???? I WAS EASIER THAN I AM NOW!! WOULD'VE FOLDED BUT I CAN'T NOW!!!! YOU SAY YOU CAN TAKE IT BUT YOU DON'T KNOW HOW HARD I CAN MAKE IT!!! just makes me want to throw up and i'm sure it would've been worse if i had it last year so yayyy good timing... she will probably switch between deluxe songs on the europe leg and i'm sooo hoping to get this one. also "i know you're frustrated because i will not let you touch me" :/// i love that she saw how much people loved her covering hopelessly devoted to you and made this

BUSY WOMAN IS THE SONG OF ALL TIME AND HELPED ME GET OVER AN INSANE ONE SIDED LOVE SITUATION like i would just put it on for an hour before going to see her it was a little funny but i'm better now yayyy it's like the most fun song ever i'm so glad it's on streaming now and i think it may go into the setlist fully like olivia did so american... we'll seeeee

i have sooooo little thoughts about bad reviews like it sounds absolutely beautiful but i spent the last 3 months inside my parents' house with no human contact and lost my ability to relate to many emotions i think... lol... i have a feeling this song is going to become huge for me in a few months and let's hope not,,, i love that it's basically bad for business but older and Worse and more aware of it's own delusion like you're not even my boyfriend and everyone is telling me it's not going to end well and i can see it too but i WILL make it work and i WILL love you till the end in spite of it all like fun... not to experience probably as i'm writing my self fulfilling prophecy but i enjoy it being told<33333

thank you for giving me the chance to be my most annoying self although you probably regret it by now<33 I'M SOOO PROUD OF HER AND WATCHING HER FOR 10 YEARS WAS THE GREATEST THING EVER AND IS JUST SO MOTIVATING TO HAVE SEEN HOW HARD SHE WORKED AND MANAGED TO RISE FROM THE BOTTOM AGAIN

ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE THE BEST DAY EVER MWAH

[caltropspress]

RAPS + CRAFTS #18: Slumber Logic

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

Slumber Logic, Toronto Producer/MC. 

Past projects: Greyscale Oblivion (album, production and vocals) 2021; Talking to Walls - w/ Mantis the Miasma (album, production and vocals) 2022; Live From the Corner - w/ TreDoes (EP, production only) 2022; Juan Ep is Life Podcast theme song.

Current Projects: Serenity Now - w/ Darkfield (EP, vocals only) 2023; Detachment, Homie and Only Detachment (production and vocals) 2023.

I’ve been making beats for 18 years rapping for 16, and was off the internet until 2019.

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

My only consistent, extended alone-time is between 9:00 pm and 1:00 am in my basement studio these days. I prefer outside in the morning, but my 1-year-old rises at 7. Because I do beats as well, this isn’t necessarily dedicated writing time, just the only time and place I can write.

I've been writing at least 20 minutes a day, every day, as a rule for the past 5 years; verses or a hook, editing, rewriting, poetry, journaling, but the 20 has to be for songwriting. 20 turns into hours when there’s time, but the M.O. is keeping the motor running, even if just a little. The subconscious throws out more to work with when it’s getting exercise. I seldom break the rule and it’s excruciating sometimes, but rewarding.

Throughout the day, I write ideas in bullet points in the small notebook starting from the bottom of the page–anything remotely inspired. The best words do not come where they will. They follow Murphy’s Law when they choose to pull up, and I don’t remember things, so I write them down in the car, out the shower, falling asleep, jogging, cooking, washing dishes and all that. I put these together in the evening.

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

I have one small notebook for ideas and sketches, one larger sketchbook with fancy thick paper for putting the sketches together into longer segments and rewrites, and a 2’ x 3’ sketchpad (The Big Bastard) to keep scrap bullet points in one place.

Once something is almost done in the big book, I type it into Google Docs and record the demo sitting down with a mic on a moveable arm so I can edit as I go. I’ll rework in Docs on the laptop or phone if it’s still not done, but try to stay away from those because social media is devastatingly distracting. 

I admire folks who can write a verse in their head. I can do that with beat ideas, but can barely remember the date on a good day.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

I’m usually compiling snippets and editing, subbing, filling blanks, so it’s scrappy collage work to finalize something cohesive. It’s with the intention of fitting into a bar structure, but there’s lots of stream of consciousness connectors that get whittled and adapted very slowly until, lo, bars.

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

Usually, I scrap most of what I write per sitting, but hoard the dross in bullet points and the Big Bastard, if I’m organized. A lot of songs are built off these. Years of killing darlings for cohesivity keeps me loose enough to not ditch the entire verse. A 16 usually takes me about a week, on a good week. 

If I decide not to move forward, it’s usually after a few hours of work. I’m always pushing past the feeling that it’s not working because it usually works out, but I’ve got a couple abandoned joints where the concept was very ambitious/specific and I either wrote myself into a corner, stopped feeling inspired to continue the concept, or decided the verse would best suit another beat. 

I gave up on many songs in my 20s. They could have been fire had I seen them through, but I hadn’t yet learned the patience to turn potential into something I could live with in the long term.

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

I’ve written poems for years, but these days it takes a conscious effort to leave them as poems and not work them into songs. I wrote a screenplay years ago and several short stories more recently. Adapting descriptive styles, dialogue, atmosphere into song form is something I work at.

I’ve taken a few creative writing and poetry courses as an adult. With poetry, it helps me get loose in a medium where the reader more often assumes intentionality with challenging work and works to unravel it, rather than incompetence, which is how my neural pathways formed as a young MC. This line of thinking helped me become less judgemental towards my own writing and that of others. My process of heavy whittling was itself whittled by having to hand shit in, and I decided over the course of these courses that it doesn’t count unless I actually hand shit in. That helped me decide when joints are done.

I journal frequently to sort out life issues, and cement memories and gratitude, which often gets paraphrased into raps. Lots of joints are just fly journal entries. My joint “Tardigrade Finnegan’s Wake” is about journaling for resilience.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

Everything’s a stage but right now, I’ll mention again, I labour to all hell. I’ve only more recently learned how long it takes for me to be truly satisfied with the end product in the long term and the patience to see it through. Even then it’s elusive. A quick verse for me is usually a week, but some take months, some years. I haven’t put out any verses since the bad old days that didn’t take at least one edit. This is fluid and may change with time but there’s always a feeling that I’m shooting for at the end of it. If I don’t achieve that feeling then I’m not done. 

A few bits of writing advice I keep close are “kill your darlings” (if it doesn’t serve the premise, no matter how much you like it, cut it) and write shitty first drafts (get the thoughts down without judging). Dan-O of Freemusicempire reminded me recently; take the best line from the draft and make every other line as good as that. If I’m stuck, new lines present themselves in the process of rewriting. Time consuming, but seeing out the process that works for me is comforting most of the time. 

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

Depends on the day. Beats and electronics can be distracting, so total silence is helpful for ideas, and I can ditch the devices. Once I have something, I’m recording it and tweaking to the beat. 

If it's a 4/4 70-110 bpm, I can usually hear 4 bars and map the syllable rhythms in silence, sometimes marking the beat to start on, notes for speed tone and inflection, sometimes recording in a phone app. That initial rush of the first take is hindered if I’m bored with the beat already, so silence helps. If it's drumless or a different time signature, I'm listening to the beat for cues and writing at the desk with the mic arm. Klwn Kat just gave me something so messed up recently, the silent approach doesn’t work here. 

Writing just to write without a beat in mind is helpful, too. I’ll have ideas or concepts that I need to flesh out and know I can adapt them to a beat later.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

Usually, the beat suggests a topic/vibe/sentence, and I’ll use that as a lead, or choose a beat around one true sentence. Sometimes I’ll have one that fits in the bullet points or Big Bastard, sometimes it’s on the fly, but I’m usually building off that first sentence. I do that with beats too–the intro and first 10 seconds set the standard of quality I want the rest to meet. Not always–it has to be a fluid process with room for error and changes or else it’s frustrating. 

Stream-of-consciousness is a great exercise to flesh out the idea, fill in gaps, say something literal to connect ideas, or thicken the plot. I usually edit it so that I’m impressed by every line both on paper and in the recording after letting it breathe. Journaling helps establish direction, asking “where is this going/what am I trying to say here?” has gotten me out of some bar jams, as in real life.

The end product is always constrained by the rhymes to a degree. 90s NY boom bap is ingrained in my musical DNA and there was a tight technical expectation or else you weren't doing it right. I still have more I want to release with tight rhyme schemes, but have been developing a looser style–it’s just a matter of me being satisfied with a less technical flow.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

I experiment. My default flows allow me to focus more on what needs to be said. I need to evolve rhythmically and break away from what comes ingrained, and that only happens by trying new things. There's much to explore and that keeps the process exciting. Drumless joints motivate a looser flow, pulling off not rhyming is a skill just as rhyming to a tight meter, and because I've been doing the latter for so long, the former is almost more of a “skill.” There can be heavy nuance in a well-delivered classic flow pattern.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

I’m proud of how “A Steppenwolf’s Whirling Dervish” starts (from Detachment, Homie, and Only Detachment.) I wanted to do a full story in 2nd point-of-view narration steeped in metaphor for emerging from reclusion. 

I have a joint collaboration album with Rap Man Gavin (release slated for late 2023) that I worked on for about 3 weeks. It's a story with dialogue between me and a priest. I expect him to evict me because I'm drinking and smoking in the pews but I end up taking his confession of his and the church's failures. Eventually he renounces his faith in lieu of the deity of technology. I had the general story outlined but really struggled balancing a clear plot arc, transitions, unique language, dialogue and metre. I kept at it, rewriting, trying new ideas, trashing lots, but listening back, I think it stands up.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

“But how I was complicit in creating the conditions so thoughtlessly counter to the outcome of the mission?

And how do I condition someone so willing to play the victim that they’re both worthy of love and the firmest versions of discipline?”

With “Rakes,” I was trying to write about these physical jolts I get when thinking about painful events in my past. More specifically, mistakes I’ve made that have hurt others and myself. At worst, they jolt you out of your sleep or train of thought and it feels like you got slammed in the face with a rake (the beat is sprinkled with sound clips of Sideshow Bob stepping on rakes). Thinking about mental health in black-and-white, I can either say, “I made mistakes and hurt because I’m a piece of shit,” or “All these things were outside of my control, and I did the best I could,” but it’s often both, and finding the degree to which either one is more true is trying. The album title Grayscale Oblivion represents following that dichotomy to the bottom of the spiral until you don’t know what is what, and by doing so, subconsciously learning the tools to climb out and regain decisiveness. To what degree of responsibility I have over my own happiness; how much is chemical and genetic, how much of it we are able to influence, how I can take more responsibility and forgive myself for my chemical makeup and blunders. Like a serenity prayer for clinical depression. We inevitably learn even when static, even while failing. 

The two bars are an interpolated question that came up in an interview with Jerry Colona: “How have I been complicit in creating the conditions I say I don’t want?” I wasn’t going to cold jack the whole line, so I left it in my notebook as “How have I been complicit in creating the conditions _____________” and journaled to work out the but. That was both music and personal work. 

In memory, the second half was trying to transcribe “I’m trying to be better, I have a tendency to take no responsibility, but I can love myself and look at the consequences of being flawed in the face–it’s both” into rhyme form. It’s playing with different options on the end word and syllable matching in between. I had to play with many options to meet the technical standard I was going for. Worked on that little bridge for a few hours over a couple of days, and I tell myself that’s why I’m still happy with it.

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

I’m pro-punch-in as long as it’s indistinguishable where it needs to be. First recording drafts with a few punch-ins help establish the flow, then get more comfortable rapping it. I'll tweak as I go, sometimes leave in a punch if it suits. Sometimes the continuity of one take sounds better; sometimes the contrast in vocal tones accentuates beat transitions. The homie Rap Man Gavin does this very well. It's gotta be doable live, but I'll do both if and when it melts my butter. Most of my tracks are one-takes, but punch-ins have their place. ODB punched in all the time, and it sounded perfect. 

I’m steady whittling verses for breath control. Rap has always been a compromise between technicality and expressing what would be easier expressed in non-rhyme form. I expect the degrees of compromise to change over time.

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Therapy has helped me channel emotions without straight whining or being inauthentically aggressive. It’s given me tools to say what I’m feeling out loud, and rap allows me to get playful with that. Likewise, meditation inspires the writing in the sense that I’m often encouraging groundedness in songs. 

This is a condensed list but authors like Baldwin, Robbins (Tom), McCarthy, Pynchon, Angelou, Hesse, Vonnegut, Tim Kreider, Castaneda, Hunter S., and Salinger get me excited to attempt beautiful phrasing. Pema Chodron and Tara Brach have me thinking and writing much about acceptance, healthy detachment, and resilience. Books on the writing craft motivate me to persevere, Steven King’s On Writing, Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, Hemingway’s On Writing. 

Then it’s just the stuff I’ve always loved. South Park, Aqua Teen, Chapelle, all things Eddie Murphy, Beavis and Butthead, Trailer Park Boys, Futurama, skate videos I grew up on. Cartoons and comedy. The art of skateboarding has so many parallels in terms of creative technicality and I try to work these less heady elements into my music. Eastern philosophy and judo inspires my mindset when I write.

Conversations with friends and family are always working their way in as well. Recently, I was talking to my homie Keith about our kids’ sleep difficulty and he said, “You have to pretend you’re 90 and on your deathbed and were given a time machine ride, but the ride only goes to this moment right now.”

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

Yes, saddled. It often sounds awful, and I worry about what other people think more than I should. Knowing I’m not alone in that, and acknowledging the variance of my reactions between listens, prevents it from hindering the process. The only solution is to push through and chip away until I can’t improve on it any further. Without the doubt, I may not have put in the hours to make music I can live with and be proud of sharing. 

Per the intro, I only started doing social media and connecting with folks online around 2021. I subscribed to the Rap Music Plug Podcast, joined Twitter and connected with some folks who give me frequent boosts, and I’d like to shout out to some of those MFs if it pleases the court: TreDoes, Rap Man Gavin, Dan-O, Levi, Rhino, Ayo Big Man, Mantis, nogod., Fick, Unsung, Bloodmoney Perez, Teddy Faley, Killvongard, Rohan, hbnd, Keith. 

All that said, doubt rises mostly when listening back. When the pen is hitting paper, there’s a core confidence I attribute to my teachers and homies in elementary and high school.  I could see their genuine shock that certain things came out of me. That feeling of being nice with it early on helps me never step lightly. Big thanks to my creative writing teacher Janet Somerville. I owe her a debt of gratitude. Please buy her books, hardcover.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

Such a good and difficult question. I have a few thoughts on this, so your patience is appreciated. 

In my early 20s it was One Be Lo and Deca. I was a sad sack because they were so close to the vision I had for my art, only years ahead. I avoided listening to them to avoid influence, because it was all so devastatingly impressive to me at that time. The feeling was, “This is so much better than I could ever be”–petty, arrogant, maybe true, but human. Over time I decided absorbing the influence, feeding off the inspiration, and creatively differentiating myself was more productive.

Further, Aesop Rock is to interesting rap word choice as The Simpsons is to sitcom plots. So many times I got smug about a unique word or play on a phrase and a week later bump Aes and realize it’s back to the drawing board. I Genius things sometimes to make sure I’m not getting too close to or bodied. 

Hemingway, problematic jackass though he was, said something like, "read everything so you know who you have to beat." Competitiveness has never helped me, but it’s good to know if your writing is as clever as you think it is, and what’s going to make eyes roll. Standards are elevating constantly, so I like to keep on top of it.

These days listening to unique folks is like watching a skate video before a session. You can’t duplicate Peter Smolik’s switch-back 5-0 at Hubba Hideaway, but it sure as hell makes you amped to skate, and you’ll dip into your own bag and shoot to evoke the same reaction. There’s power in that. 

Also, woods, SKECH185, E L U C I D, and Joe from Caltrops. If Joe rapped, we’d all be fucked. I listen to/read them lots, so the influence is ingrained. It’s not so much an urge to imitate, more to differentiate when it comes out unintentionally sounding like them.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

My overarching goal is to create a catalog of records over many years that I’m proud of. Secondary to that, I’d like to build with more producers and MCs. Staying focused on creating a catalog anchors me so that external factors like recognition, promotion, media, don’t distract me from it. 

I’d like my joints to show how many sides there are to every story, the necessity of kindness and that harnessing it requires more power than its opposing force, that hurt people hurt people, and that we are accountable. I’d like to show my respects to the architects and trailblazers of the genre and be a part of the solution to the problem of white supremacy. I’d like to translate gorgeous narratives, devices, dialogues of other art forms into a rap format. I want every line to count and to show, not tell. I could be better at all of this, going back to the overarching goal: keep trying.

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: Slumber Logic

[literateleah]

the paradox of emily prentiss’ audience perception and character design

some of y’all about to be real mad at me, but it must be said:

emily prentiss’ character design makes no sense: my personal opinion + an objective analysis

i think it can be challenging to separate the versions of characters we have in our little brains from actual canon content, but doing so is important for understanding what those characters are truly like, especially within the context of their environment and in contrast to others around them. plus developing a deeper understanding of the media we consume is super fun and interesting! with that being said: emily prentiss should not work for the fbi and here’s why (in three parts regarding who’s responsible: cbs, paget, and fans) (sit down and grab a snack i promise this is over 3k words)

quick disclaimer: i don’t dislike emily at all! that’s my girl, i just looked closer and realized some funky things the writers did and felt the need to analyze her of course: so let’s get into it

part one: what cbs did

cbs set the stage for emily’s introduction on the heels of the departure of lola glaudini as elle greenaway! lola has clarified that she decided to leave the show because filming in los angeles was not the best environment for her personally, and after one successful season on a major network (but not much established long term plot or drama beyond elle’s departure as a character) a consistent ensemble cast was required- particularly because the bau had been criticized for being predominantly male in the first few episodes of the show and not much development was given to penelope or jj yet. enter emily prentiss.

for the duration of seasons 2-3ish, emily was framed as a chip off the block that was elle greenaway, just slightly…richer? in her first few episodes emily was hesitantly polite but ambitious, clean cut, intellectually concise and held her own within the team. she seemed equal parts intimidated and frustrated by her male superiors (gideon, hotch) but certainly proves herself among other profilers. her childhood was explored only within reference to her strained relationship with her mother (which was only ever referenced once more after the fact) and we received a short overview of her educational and career history in her first few episodes. emily fit right into the hole elle had left, and didn’t have many major storylines yet.

seasons 4-6 brought a bit more development and depth to emily’s character! she begins dropping more snarky remarks, one liners, and socially deepening her relationships with the other team members. this seems more within the lines of elle’s design, but emily arguably took more time to grow into her place within the team. during the foyet arc she was vulnerable and supportive, and the doyle arc gave her some independence and agency she didn’t have previously. this era also solidified her appearance and persona as more edgy, which falls in line with general fanon perception of her character (especially when compared to jj or penelope). i can’t address this era or season 7 without mentioning that cbs was actively trying to remove paget from the cast, similar to how they did to aj cook as well. paget has spoken about this instance before, and i believe it slightly affected her portrayal of her character, and “lauren” was somewhat of a goodbye for both paget and emily (thus why she wished for mgg to direct since they were best friends).

season 7: in my opinion, one of the best seasons for emily. she was wisened and deeply wounded by her experiences with doyle, which was understandable of course. she returned to the team she loved and learned to appreciate life in a different way, remaining mature during this time period as well! though her departure was a bit less than graceful and sudden at the end of this season, it made sense compared to some other exits the team had seen.

now *sigh* all the rest.

paget as emily appears in two separate guest appearances (once in s9 and once in s11, and she is referenced offscreen as well) before permanently reprising her role as unit chief of the bau. these appearances were most likely to boost ratings and get the team back together (i.e. 200) or just to pepper in international cases (tribute). emily’s personality remains pretty consistent here, just more mature and comfortable in leadership positions (seeing as she is running an entire branch of an international law enforcement organization). then season 12 hit.

upon the departure of thomas gibson as hotch, cbs reached out to paget to see if she would be interested in fulfilling her role as emily within a longer term unit chief position. i’ll get into why this is wack in a few paragraphs, but the remainder of her time on the show is spent on a mature portrayal that seems very distant from her previous versions. emily is more authoritative, gives orders with ease, and has no qualms about leading a team of agents or even receiving promotion offers as director of the entire bureau.

thus concludes a general summary of the canon content cbs gave us as viewers. now let's talk about what they didn’t give us, regrettably

the primary aspect of emily’s design that comes to mind for many is her queer coding. though not much was to be expected from cbs, a prime time cable tv network, each of her relationships on the show (all with men) seemed oddly forced, and without much chemistry as compared to the SOs of other main characters. rumors of scrapped plotlines have floated around about what may have been, but the ultimate lack of acknowledgement of any queer characters in the main ensemble still leaves a feeling of disappointment to audiences, and leaves more to be desired as for how emily navigates social bonds.

part two (sidebar): what paget did

i think it could be agreed within audiences that paget brewster’s portrayal of emily made the role what it was! her dry witty delivery and emotional prowess combined with sitcom acting experience made her performance a mainstay for years. i think she did the best she could with a confusing and at times flat characterization, and brought the role to life.

paget also heavily contributes to fanon indirectly with her comments outside of the show (press, cameos, twitter etc). her general continued interest and fondness for the role post production affects fan perception, particularly in what she chooses to elevate and comment on. she and aj have both spoken about viewing jemily content, and paget and thomas have both also commented on hotchniss. most cast members feel free to comment on their characters in the appropriate timing, and seem open to discussing fanon ships and theories outside of canon!

part three: what fanon did

as we can tell from this fan space as well as the presence on insta, tik tok and twitter, fans LATCHED onto emily super quickly. she’s remained a favorite over the years, and this fan persistence is what brought her back so many times after leaving (so many times). in my opinion, queer coding and a bolder female trope (in contrast to her female counterparts) are the main pulls because they resonated with so many fans- new and old. with that being said, newer fans of the show in the past year in particular have been heavily influential in fanon, solely because of the large influx of fan content and popularity of it.

fan content began to take coding and bite size moments and snippets from the show as canon, and cemented it into much of the content and discourse they created. these small pieces of emily’s character are significant, but have become magnified by how easily they are to share and edit. for example, a collection of catchy one liners from emily over the seasons makes for a great video edit intro, or gifset! there’s absolutely no problem with this content, it just all combines to create a certain fanon perception no character escapes (this isn’t a phenomenon limited to emily or the cm fandom!)

these droves of content also solidified emily’s personality as much more defined, but at the same time, simplified it in a way that’s slightly harder to explain.

fanon: more emo/goth than canon basis

fanon: more introverted/anti social than canon basis

fanon: more violent/chaotic when canon emily is relatively well mannered and doesn’t start many conflicts (particularly in the workspace)

fanon: much less maternal when canon emily displays desire on multiple occasions (even crossing professional borders) for children, particularly teenage girls (possibly projection)

(again, nothing wrong with this interpretation at all and it still varies! This is just a generalization based on most of the popular content i have seen)

part 4: why it doesn’t work

let me start with this: emily prentiss does not like her job.

we don’t receive much in depth information about emily’s internal feelings and thoughts towards her mother beyond resentment. this stems from wanting to make it on her own, as a professional and as an individual (cough cough college deposits). this makes emily’s insistence on proving herself to authority figures in her earlier seasons is interesting to watch in different circumstances. she cites her experience and denies help from her mother when justifying her placement in the bau to hotch, she is extra vigilant about being helpful on her first case with gideon, etc. nevertheless, emily forges her own path outside of diplomacy and becomes a successful profiler and agent, with the help of her privilege, wealth and name whether she likes it or not. but if we read between the lines and fill in the blanks cbs neglected, these ambitions may subconsciously be oriented towards pleasing her mother.

example one: emily’s authority issues go further than just “rebellion” or “anarchy”, she frequently questions the ethics and sustainability of the work that the bau does. every team member does this, but emily much more so than anybody else.

in “amplification”, emily almost breaks federal protocol to inform civilians of anthrax threats. she butts heads with both hotch and rossi on this front, and ends the episode with having a conversation with rossi about the ethics of lying in their line of work. emily resigns to a solemn “it be like that” and moves along, accepting this reality.

on multiple different occasions emily laments to derek about the darkness she sees on the job, and it’s shown that this gets to her quickly on particularly bad cases. this is another contradiction of the design that she can supposedly “compartmentalize” better than others on the team, when she cannot unless the lives of others are at risk (doyle arc, s7 finale).

emily also responds in this way to many cases involving children, a similarity to jj many don’t notice upon first watching the series. “seven seconds” and “children of the dark” come to mind, during the latter in which emily is prepared to cross multiple professional lines to adopt a teenage girl left orphaned by the case, until hotch stops her and establishes that her emotions can’t rule her judgement on the job. regardless of hotch’s thoughts about her attempted caretaking abilities, these actions and impulses deeply contradict the typical bureaucratic pathways of the work the bau does.

the looming reputation of her mother’s diplomatic history hangs over emily, and after going to law school and working for the cia, she most likely did want to forge her own path as far away from being a socialite: being a spy. her inner nature doesn’t always reflect this profession, and leads me to believe that with her knowledge of psychology, law procedure and care for children: emily prentiss might be more inclined to working in social work, placing suffering children and teenagers in homes they deserve.

and finally, the hill i will die on: emily prentiss was an bad unit chief

this wonderful post touches on my general sentiment, but there were many reasons as to why emily prentiss’ career arc makes little to no sense (plot holes included).

first: her background. emily attended chesapeake bay university as well as yale and achieved a ba in criminal justice. keep in mind that though timelines evidently don’t exist in the cm universe, emily prentiss is ONE YEAR older than aaron hotchner (for context). in her first episode, she professes that she has worked for the bureau for a little under ten years in midwestern offices- something the audience laters knows to not be true. emily worked with the cia and interpol as a part of a profiling team and undercover agent up until roughly TWO YEARS before her canon introduction. plot holes and time gaps aside, this makes me wonder, why didn’t she just say the cia was a backstop without revealing the highly confidential nature of her work with doyle (similar to jj’s state department backstop and cover story)? penelope or hotch could have easily accessed her file and seen that she did not in fact have experience with the bureau in midwestern offices recently, and given the fact that erin strauss set up her bau placement, i’m presuming these formalities or references were overlooked.

second: her experience within the team. emily worked as a part of the bau with the bureau for roughly 6 or 7 years. after this, she is invited to run the entire london branch of interpol, one of the most renowned international law enforcement organizations. i’m surely not the most knowledgeable on requirements or standard timelines for such matters, but with the fact that emily had never led a team in her life (not in the bau or interpol previously) and had roughly 10 years of field experience, i don’t believe she would have ever realistically been considered eligible to run the whole london department.

third: her return to the bureau. fanon depiction of their relationship aside, if you believe aaron hotchner’s last wish before going into witsec was to entrust his team to emily prentiss, you’re dead mistaken. bringing emily back was clearly a pull for ratings after the loss of two main characters (hotch and derek), but logistically a bad decision. let’s suppose emily has had 4 or 5 years of experience in london now, this established authority position would be unlikely to change at the drop of a hat, even for old teammates or friends. also considering how close they were after a decade of working closely in bureaucratic and field contexts, i firmly believe hotch would have referred jj for the job of unit chief but that’s another discussion for another time.

emily’s reign as unit chief is odd, because of the many chaotic storylines crammed into it. but amidst bad writing and viewings plummeting, emily’s character is completely flattened. completely. emily is unrecognizable, both in appearance (that god awful wig) and personality. at times she acts as a complete wise authority, giving orders and delegating local authorities as hotch did. but at other times she makes multiple illegal, emotional, and incorrect judgement calls based on personal circumstances that lead to further chaos (deleting the recording of her and reid’s mexico conversation and reprimanding luke in “luke” for the exact same thing she did in season 6 even though she enabled her to do so come to mind).

i’m not sure if this is due to paget trying to find her footing in the role again, or the writer’s bad decisions towards the end of the show wrecking any previous design for their ensemble. then, there’s the infamous “wheels up” scene in s13e1. notoriously cringey, this seems like a vague caricature of something rossi would say many years in the past (the same goes for her pep talk in “red light” in the hunt for diana reid). these moments are meant to mature emily in the audience’s eye, but instead completely removed her from who we understood her to be, and made her an unreliable leader.

part five: and why it does

in theory, emily was a bolder foil to jj, similar to elle who she arguably replaced at first. she came into her own, and stands as a more uniquely developed character than almost any other in the main ensemble. she isn’t as maternal or domestically inspiring as canon jj, less bright and sunny than penelope, not quite as stoic or intimidating as derek or hotch. And yet at the same time, she’s a fairly blank slate. stripping fanon content away entirely, canon emily has few defining traits (all of which are constantly changing), and that may be the key to why we love her so much.

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[farty-city]

inside bo burnham review no one asked for

i enjoy other peoples commentary and i was writing down my first thoughts anyway so here it is

inside

first song/intro song

i like the phone screen on him, very reflective of how we have had phone screens on us

“roberts been a little depressed” osnskjdnfs

they were right “daddys made you some content so open wide” hjbfafn

intro

oh my god he looks awful

but like in a cute way

maybe

healing the world with comedy (second song)

the canned and queued laugher no exactly… is it a symbol or is it just funny.. who's to say. 

it think its a good first song, establishing he knows what he is doing is kind of useless 

“the indescribable power of your comedy”

he looks like marc maron rn

i like the synthed voice and synthesizer

the jesus allusion … yeah

“i'm a special kind of white guy”

this feels like he knows how he is perceived by fans.. Make happy was too much

his fucking dancing fksjdnfksj

i think he did a good job looking manic

the lasers lmao

Side 1

Bo made a huge gamble releasing this like,,, what if you just stumbled upon it and this was ur first introduction to him..

I bet its like when i comment dumb things on instagram comments and get that rush of hehehehe

NO NOT BO DEVELOPING BILLIE EILLISH VOWELS

Also this is exactly what he wanted like,, he just wanted to make his things and not deal with the crowds so..

To think i was like finding scraps of him performing at largo and stuff and now,, so much content

life imitates art

the way he's literally what he wrote hgbkdf

there is no authenticity with cameras

suicide ?

 facetime with my mom tonight

the blue light.. Yeah

o hblue like sad

i don't know how i feel about the electric music but i guess its no different than whatever else i listen to

this is sad wow

still catchy etc

side 2

i wonder if here will be any fart jokes

that is how the world works (songs)

the huge mess and then him in a sweater

this is reminiscent of that walmart muppets

he became tim minchin with a sock puppet

the “yes… yes sir” stoppp 

jkgdsnfijwkensfosnf

qbejfnjne

nerjgnoejns

bo making a political statement and a metaphor for activism and then making it weirdly kinky

brand consultant (bit)

man bun

i have to believe he filmed it with the beard because quarantine vibes and also bc he was tired of being seen as a child

white womans instagram (song)

i did not like that intro

BO AND GLASSES THANK GOD

the daisies wow just wow

underwear

“white womans instagram” or “bo burnham becomes a girlboss”

i like that he didn't lose his cadence like the way the rhymes are you can still tell its him

i don't get the mom part sorry

is it like how people are very superficial but also very personal on their instagrams

this part was legit sad

side 3

i wonder how he felt with cameras constantly on him

Although this is the point hes trying to make

lol seinfeld moment (bit)

unpaid intern (bit and song)

“barely people somehow legal” was so smooth woW

omg he was scatting

he was a man who would scat

oh my god what great news

the react clip omg

i cant believe he did that oh my god

observation/critisism and response to the “can anyone shut the fuck up” 

and as i realized what he was doing he was like “i have this need for everything i make to have a deeper meaning” oh my god

now the question is how long will this go on?

jeffrey bezos (song)

idk its catchy

and then theres him like sleeping and talking which kind of is part of the jeff bezos song

bug eyes salamanders hehe

sexting (song)

i do believe this is just a silly song 

the earrings tho omg

sounds like post malone hbkjdsnfskj

idk its still about like intimacy in quarantine and that stuff..

the knife (bit)

i know hes copying like other youtubers but like,,, what

stuck in a room (song)

the intro is very funny and relatable

classic bo i love it 

i will say this special has been more reflective but i suppose it has to be

“look whos inside again”

i like the end too, this is all a fabrication

this is the clip where hes staring at the projection of himself from his old youtube videos which is sort of more like an ending to the “stuck in my room” song

 sorry (song)

i love the 80’s style music and its like zumba

oh this is like an apology song

“father please forgive me for i did not realise what i did, or that id live to regret it” what a catchy line

i would say this is another more “classic” bo song where its self aware and funny

“my closet it chalk full of stuff that is vaguely shitty” 

camera falling

this deserves its own bullet because its silly

i'm turning 30 (bit and song)

i remember him talking about this on a podcast and like,, damn i didn't know this also happened LOL

i really like how he did the lighting 

“stupid fucking ugly boring children”

suicide talk (1)

this is interesting i like the use of the projection

this is something that could never have happened onstage

just like with the it being projected on him

i guess it could but it would have to be done differently and probably hed have to make it funnier to make it more engaging

intermission

i just checked this is about the halfway point.. Mh

i don't wanna know (song)

“i thought it’d be over by now”

i wish this was longer but i kind of like how its just a little snippet and then the cut

video game (bit)

“i guess i’ll cry again”

“is the dude big or is the room small” lol

hm depression

 feelin like shit (song)

ohh the lighting is fun again

this is the tone shift i suppose

the feels like supalonely and the new kind of music

atl

:(

panic attack 

everything all of the time (song)

feels like brandon rogers 

i enjoy this

this feels like “welcome to youtube” grew up

“a little bit of everything all of the time”

“apathys a tragedy and boredoms a crime”

ok olivia rodrigo

finishing the special (bit)

these feel like diary entries but as standup

interesting choice

jeffery bezos (2)

Why the seaweed suit

Where did he get that

the digital space (bit)

suit up, gather what is needed, and return to the surface

damn

pirate map anfdkjfnskjd

this was so stupid (affectonate)

that funny feeling (song)

the campfire vibes 

kenny loggins

i don't get it..

is it about childhood, is it about the present?

i think its talking about the end of content? 

“the end of culture”, to quote make happy

change and not liking it 

“we were overdue, but it will be over soon”

if the second half of the special is like a panic attack this song is like a momentary pause before it gets worse

“so ive been working on this special”/breakdown 

this was .. uncomfortable and genuine which i'm sure is why he kept it

all eyes on me (song/rant)

another sad thing to watch.. damn

me trying to tell if the audio was from make happy

i think he was trying to make it as if the audio was from make happy 

this feels.. familiar

and obviously that is the point

“come on in the waters fine”

the use of autotune during the talking part... yeah

sad that he was gonna make another special… and it would have been totally different than this

i’ve decided i like the homage to make happy

It feels like hes made peace with it

the montage of him waking up and the “i think i'm done”

and then of course the ending where he's watching it over to remind us that its all fabricated

possible ending song/ “i promise to never go outside again”

ngl he looks good in the shirt with the haircut hehe

which i feel like is what he wants up to notice

and then like not think after we saw all his breakdowns

“i want to hear you tell a joke when no ones laughing in the background”

i really like the medley

Final thoughts

I want a blooper reel, but this doesn't seem like the kind of special

I also wonder if the songs will be on like apple music, but again, doesn't seem like the kind of special

I'm happy for him, he got to be honest and open and show us the sort of panicky stuff

this self aware comedy is exactly the stuff that i think will be making a comeback in the next decade.  John better be pulling up with more deconstructed comedy. 

I hope this has given him peace

[sevensided]

how did you get into writing fic? i'd love to start but idk even where to begin! I loved adats so I was wondering do you have any advice?

Oh my goodness! I am so flattered you’ve asked me this. Yes, I can absolutely help. I’ll throw a bunch of rambling under the cut.

I started writing fic probably when I was... sixteen years old? A lot of my early works were oneshots. I couldn’t figure out how to do anything plot heavy for the life of me, so I just stuck to AUs or whatever I felt like. I wasn’t in any particular fandom -- I really wrote whatever I had ideas for. I remember I tried once to do a plot-heavy story and I received a review absolutely ripping it to shreds. Like, it was so cruel I cried lol. I ended up deleting the fic. Years later, I get what they were trying to say (basically, more substance, less style), but at the time it cut to the quick. Really, it was only when I was in my twenties that I started writing work that was longer and/or better.

The fandom that helped me actually write plot heavy work was a historical-based fandom. As I’m a historian, it was perfect. I got to use my research skills and knowledge to create works that, above all, aimed to feel authentic. I mainly read historical fiction, so I was familiar with how that genre worked. Miraculously, people loved my work. I think I wrote about ~200k in the period of a year? These were several short stories (20-40k) and a few oneshot filler fics. While I was part of this fandom I also helped organise a Big Bang which was a lot of hard work but was extremely rewarding. Along with that, I interacted mainly with other fic writers, so I spent a lot of time chatting to people about ideas and encouraging other writers, and it just created a lovely medley where no concept was impossible or any line of dialogue too difficult. We supported each other and it was truly like a little commune. I gradually stepped away from the fandom mainly because it was just a part of my life at a very specific time, and almost as soon as that time was over, my love for that story/ship faded, but I firmly believe I figured out a lot of how/what I do now purely through that experience.

Regarding ADATS

With ADATS, it stemmed entirely from wanting to “explain” three months in canon (at the end of season three). I was interested in the idea of season four setting up Will/Mike in canon, and I wanted to test the source material to see if I could draw from what already existed to create something authentic. I began with that simple idea: what happened from July to October in 1985? Then I thought about the major themes I wanted to hit -- family, friendship, coming of age, sexuality -- and I nested them around the bigger concept: how do I get Mike from being ostensibly straight to realising he is gay? That meant thinking of two steps: Mike discovering his attraction to guys; Mike discovering his attraction to Will. Those two concepts were separate “arcs” that needed addressing in different ways. Balance was key to weaving them together and making the reader feel like they knew what was coming (and that they felt smart for putting the pieces together) without just rushing through and going “now kiss!” That’s partly why ADATS needs a sequel, lol: because it’s not finished!

Writing process

The first thing I do when I start to get an idea is I write it down. Sounds obvious. But when you have a killer line of dialogue come to you in the shower and you think “I’ll remember that” -- reader, you will not remember it. You gotta get it down ASAP! I do that the whole way through, as generally I’ll be thinking of scenes I’m stuck on and then it’ll just come to me and I’ll quickly jot it down.

The next thing -- or what I do in the meantime -- is start structuring. I plan. I try to plan a lot. Sometimes it’s okay to write “and something happens here to get them here”, because you’ll figure it out later, but for the most part I’ve discovered that planning is like gold and you can’t get enough of it. I break my work up into generally 3-4 parts/sections, and I treat each section like a mini story. So each part needs a conflict and resolution, and it needs to flow into the next section. You need to have a feeling of things evolving and maturing. Once I’ve planned those little bits, I start thinking about the bigger plot arc and how I can drop in hints along the way. I’m probably not a subtle or skilled enough writer to yet pull off that sort of gasping twist you get in really excellent books, but I’m trying to get there. It’s hard, is what I’m trying to say, but that’s okay, because we’re all learning.

Then I generally do aesthetic stuff. Sounds stupid, probably. But nothing helps me get more into a mood than doing a Pinterest board or -- most of all -- making a Spotify mix. I start thinking about the vibe and the general atmosphere, and then I almost exclusively listen to that mix when I’m working. Sort of like muscle memory? Just to get the creative juices associated with that particular selection of songs.

Another thing I’ll do along with plot structure is character structure. This is a biggie. I mean, a story is nothing without characters. So I’ll just jot down a bunch of bullet points of characters and particular aspects that I want to highlight or remember. I hate continuity errors in fiction. Like, if someone says they work on Maple Street but later in the fic they’re working on Pine Street. I hate that. So I keep note of specific things that my main character might notice at repeated points in the story (colours, places, smells, names, sounds -- so they’re all consistent even as the narrative evolves). That’s another thing -- your characters’ motivations. Not everyone is going to be a huge player, but they all do serve a purpose. The most important character is obviously your main character. I personally think it’s important to let your M.C. be an arse at times. They’re going to be mean, they’re going to misinterpret things or fly off the handle... just let ‘em. Let them be wretched humans, and then bring them back and make them realise what they’ve done. Let them learn! I love consequences in fiction, lol.

At the same time, I’ll probably start writing. We’ve already written down some snippets of neat dialogue or descriptions, but now we should start the actual process. For me, I used to start at the beginning. Usually this was the most fleshed out anyway: I’ll have a clear idea of the beginning and the end, but nothing in the middle. These days, if I have a scene in mind that I can’t forget, I’ll just write it. It will possibly get scrapped or rewritten, but that’s okay, because at least you’ve got it down and now you can devote your brain power to something useful (like figuring out what the middle is supposed to be). I’ll have half a dozen of totally out of context scenes just littered in my Word document that I’ll add to as I go along. Eventually, though, you’re going to start writing properly, and that’s when you write your opening scene.

Opening scenes: super important. Every time I write a scene I think: what is the point of this? What do I want the reader to learn or takeaway? Sometimes you do have filler scenes, but they also serve a different purpose (perhaps to establish a group dynamic or to explore/describe a character’s surroundings). Mainly, though, every scene should push something forward in some way, whether it’s character development or a plot point. So, with an opening scene, I always think you have to establish: where you are; who you are; what they are doing; where they’ve come from (in a philosophical and practical sense); and where they’re going (ditto). That doesn’t have to happen in the first paragraph -- that would be silly. But if you sprinkle that information in over time it’ll gradually build up a picture of your character and that way the reader can get an idea of who they are. You basically need to give a snapshot of what your story is about. This also goes back to the character creator stuff: where they are at the start should be different to where they end up. How that happens is, of course, because of plot, and because you’ve structured everything to the nth degree, we’ve got a very clear progression of that character’s growth (/s easier said than done lol).

General advice

Write down everything: every idea, a bit of dialogue, a description, whatever. Write it down. Doesn’t have to be neat. Just has to be on paper. You can’t remember everything, so if you’re spending time trying to hold those things in your head, it’s taking up space for new ideas to come along.

Structure, plan, structure, plan. Sometimes it’s boring and I hate it. Other times, when I’ve not written in a few days and I open the Word doc and think wtf is this supposed to be, I am very grateful for Past Me for leaving such detailed notes. Seriously, it helps so much. Oneshots don’t really need planning, in my experience. You just get those out there. But multi-chaptered stories really do, even ones that “just” focus on a relationship.

Whatever you want to write, commit to it. Space goblins invade Hawkins? Do it. Eleven and Max find themselves in a cult akin to Midsommar (2019) and must escape? Yes. Just... whatever you want to do, remember that you’re writing it for you. Write what most interests you, what makes you when you reread it go AHHHHH I LOVE THIS!! Because that makes it a thousand times easier to actually get on with the writing when you enjoy what you’re doing.

Write a lot. Every day, if you can, or at least at designated times. Occasionally I have a very specific headspace/vibe I have to be in, but sometimes it just hits me and I’ll say to my partner “I need to write now” and just disappear, lol. The more you write the more you write. It’s so, so, so true. Cannot emphasise this enough. When I wrote that ~200k in twelve months? It was because I literally wrote every. day. Or near enough. Remember that some days you’ll write 200 words, and other days you’ll write 20k (this happened to me with ADATS -- part of the reason I finished it so quickly was because I had sprints of writing 10k+ at a time that only happened because I was in the rhythm of it). Write, write, write. Who cares if it’s crap! No one will see it until you are ready. In the meantime, just write!

Probably last of all (although I could go on and on) is connect with other writers. If you’re struggling to start, sometimes just talking about it can help a huge amount. I hope it goes without saying that you can message me whenever you want, anon or not, and I will talk to you. We can talk about ideas or I can beta stuff, whatever you want! Find like-minded people and talk to them about what you want to do. Another thing this helps is in advertising your work when you do publish. I see a lot of first time fic writers get super down because they publish their magnum opus on AO3 but no one comments. Honestly, it’s because no one knows you’ve published! You don’t have to be tooting your own horn every which way, but just actively talking about your work and even collaborating with other content creators with get you hyped and other people too (and the input and encouragement other fandom members give is just... out of this world. Anon messages helped me finish ADATS when I was really worried I wouldn’t [that’s the truth]. Seriously, support is everything). When you have people excited about your work, you get excited. It’s really as simple as that.

I could go on but this is already horrendously long. I hope even a bit of this helps! If you want to chat or have any more questions, just hit me up any time.

[bereft-of-frogs]

3. Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them? + 4: Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it? + 5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter. + 17: What has been the proudest moment for you so far since you started writing? ---- Sorry, i am very curious :D

Thanks for asking! Questions are from this list, if anyone wants to send any more!

3. Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them?

The two I’m currently focusing on out of my sea of WIPs are what I’m calling the ‘twin bastard WIPs’: aka, the grotesque fic and ‘variations on a redemption arc 1′. I’m calling them that because they’re both similar despite being in different fandoms. They’re both about the same length, they both deal with dark themes (including torture, always fun), there’s a lot of overwrought emotional conversations - and I was having the same problems with them. Specifically, I’d put them aside and let myself get distracted by other works and then when I picked them back up I would have like...the same series of revelations every single time. Like, ‘oh I should do this and this, and THIS is the real motivation for this character behind the mask.........wait I’ve already done this.’ So I decided to just focus on these two until they were finished, which is going...umm...okay.  (There was not a ‘variations on a redemption arc 2′ when I made this pledge and then wrote three pages of it in a notebook...)

I would say I should be done with both by the end of the summer? Hopefully? well, the grotesque fic has a deadline now and I’m making good progress on the other (though I have fight scenes left to write blegh I always procrastinate writing fight scenes).

4. Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it?

I rarely consider WIPs abandoned. Either they were never really WIPs to begin with, just snippets of ideas and dialogue I had no intention of expanding on in the first place, indulgent scenes I just wrote for myself, or I still have hope to finish them. Two slightly longer ones though that I would call abandoned:

- last year to combine a whumptober prompt with a bad things happen bingo square (hunting season + surrender) I started a Star Wars fic but the worldbuilding never came together and I subsequently learned there’s an arc of The Clone Wars that did almost the same thing (one day I will actually watch The Clone Wars....it is not this day, though I do have a friend who might bully me into it soon) so I just scrapped it.

- I had another earlier version of the ‘Team Revengers on the Ark’ type semi-episodic fic, but I ended up pilfering some individual scenes for ‘pain and other human sensations’ and I ended up liking where I went with that a lot better (even for things that didn’t affect the larger series plot, like the Grandmaster’s return) and never really cared to go back and continue this version

5. Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

from ‘variations on a redemption arc 1′

“You’ll let him die?”

The thought of it leaves him momentarily breathless. But he still says, “Yes. I would let him die a Jedi.”

Silence falls between them. Qui-Gon expects Dooku to leave. But he doesn’t.

“I cannot deny,” Dooku says after a few minutes of quiet. The roar of pain has dulled to a steady throb. “That once I would perhaps have answered as you did. That I would have perhaps had the sense of honor to let you die rather than fall. But I have watched too many Jedi cut down in service of a mission that failed long ago, and I will do it again.”

file this under, ‘willing to put up with writing 3 separate fight scenes because I am in love with this one exchange’

[additional note: the second ‘variations on a redemption arc’ isn’t actually a sequel but just another fic along the same lines, with some divergences, which is why I really want to finish this one first, because first of all I keep getting distracted and losing track of the complicated emotional and political motivations, but I also don’t want to mix up themes since they’re taking place at very different narrative points. it’s just a funny placeholder title haha, because the other day I was like ‘wait isn’t this just another variation on the same narrative’ and then was like ‘eh, two cakes’]

not from the grotesque fic, but the conclusion to an accidental trilogy about ghosts and hallucinations:

“You see, in this I preferred the old Thor. He’d spare me these sorts of conversations, bury it down deep and act as if nothing’s wrong.”

Thor’s gaze is level. “You’re asking me to act like nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes.” Loki would vastly prefer never to have this conversation. He’d much prefer that Thor dismiss any of his new oddities as simple quirks and let him suffer in silence until it all fades. He turns back to his counting. 5…10…15…20…

“I know you’d prefer to avoid this talk, but see, that’s what got us in this mess in the first place, brother.” Thor sounds weary. “I let you suffer in silence until it didn’t fade, until it all blew up in my face. And you ask me to do it again? To repeat history?”

Loki stops counting cans. He was certain that he had not said any of that out loud. He turns and opens his mouth, but before he can demand an explanation, Thor says, “How’s the inventory coming?”

Only the Thor he was looking at hadn’t said anything, and the voice came from behind him.

Loki turns. Thor stands in the doorway, looking at him with an innocent smile on his face. Loki glances back to the crate where his brother had been perched. It is empty. He turns back to the Thor in the doorway, face feeling very cold and something unpleasant in his stomach. “What?”

“How’s the inventory coming?” Thor asks, a bit slower this time.

This was just the first piece I wrote of this conclusion, still far from making any decent progress on it but I like it!

17. What has been the proudest moment for you so far since you started writing?

Tie between 1) any jokingly angry comment (like obviously not any actual nasty comments but the ones where people are like HURTS SO GOOD) 2) actually scratch that, when I finally got the first ‘you’re disgusting’ comment on one of my extremely rare actual Thorki fics, I was pretty proud of that too 3) any time I get to a place where I read back a fic of my that I’ve posted that hasn’t gotten a ton of comments or kudos and I’m like ‘hell yeah this is fire, I don’t care if the readers don’t appreciate you, fic, I appreciate you’. Which might sound sort of full of myself but it’s always a nice place to get to where it’s like...hey the validation is nice but also I just really like this work. wrote it for an audience of one, me, and me is happy so that’s a win.

Feel free anyone to send more asks! I will theoretically answer them at some point this evening as procrastination from actually writing

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Attack of the Star Wars Wednesday

Surprise! A second one!

This one is a snippet from my “oops I accidentally made a 22k word WIP how did this happen” Vampire AU in which I stole Castlevania’s vibes and refuse to return them. Context: after having been left alone for the evening by Vader, Luke ends up getting a bath and meeting the automaton C3PO.

When he could put it off no longer, Luke swam back to the shallow side and climbed, dripping, out onto the flagstones. The towel that the automaton had left was immense. It was long enough to wrap Luke from head to toe and still have fabric leftover. Who needed a towel that large?! Lycanthropes?!

Actually, Luke was relatively certain that lycanthropes did not, in fact, bathe. 

The fire was still well-tended in the next room, warding off much of the chill of being soaking wet in a stone castle. Luke couldn't see Threepio anywhere, but for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he knew the automaton was still present. Maybe it was that same kind of premonition that let him know when storms were coming? Luke didn't know how he "knew" things sometimes. He just did.

"Um...h-hello?" 

He shuffled across the stones, shivering. The fireplace kept the air warm, but that wasn't doing much for his bare feet.

As if by magic, Threepio reappeared out of a panel in the wall. 

"Oh dear me! Terribly sorry, sir. I'd only just finished airing out the linens. Come come! You mustn't catch cold, oh the master would be quite displeased if you did."

"Huh?" Luke frowned and eased across the floor, avoiding toy soldiers. "Why does he care if I get sick? Would it mess with my blood or something?"

Threepio didn't seem to know how to respond to that. "Your...your blood, sir? I'm afraid I don't understand."

Luke clutched the towel tightly around him. "You know, blood?" he said dully. "He's a vampire, isn't he? So he's probably going to drink my blood later?"

The automaton clicked and whirred for several seconds. Steam began to puff out of one side of his head as he rattled indignantly. 

"I should say not, sir!" he cried in shrill outrage. "What a horrible idea! The master has made it quite clear that you are our guest. Surely you aren't suggesting that he would break the laws of hospitality?!"

"How would I know?" Luke shot back, "his castle sure doesn't feel hospitable!"

A touch peevishly, Threepio remarked that he didn't think it was fair for the master to be judged by the traps he set for invaders.

Then the steam faded and so did his ire.

"Oh dear. Oh that was terribly inappropriate of me, I'm so very sorry! I oughtn't have shouted at you sir, you are quite young, after all. I suppose you weren't to know."

It was a very contrite automaton who directed Luke back into the grim nursery. An oil lamp had been lit, and the room was just the slightest bit friendlier now. The rocking horse had been moved against the wall, beside the ornate bookshelf. It still unnerved Luke.

At the foot of the bed, a sturdy drawer had been pulled from the frame. It looked as though someone was in the midst of filling it with shirts and braies of varying sizes. Some looked like they'd been made for a boy not old enough for breeches, and others were considerably larger. Threepio had just laid out a long shirt on the end of the bed that looked too large for Luke. The automaton straightened the heavy red duvet and pulled back one corner.

"Will you be requiring any assistance in dressing yourself, sir?" he asked.

"No!" Luke yelped. 

The idea of the clockwork man helping him put on the nightshirt with his stiff metal hands was not an appealing one.

He leaned over the drawer and rifled through the garments until he found a pair of braies that looked like they might fit. The shirt on the duvet seemed like it would probably fall to his knees once he put it on.

"Are there any breeches?" he asked.

Threepio fluffed the pillows industriously and waddled to a cupboard on the wall.

"Oh yes, sir. In many sizes! I shall lay a pair out on the morrow."

"I can't wear them now?"

Another puff of steam escaped Threepio's head. "Breeches to bed?" he asked, "How peculiar! I confess, I am not familiar with such a custom."

Luke made a face. "Well...no, I- I don't wear them to bed, no. It's just, I'm, um. I'm not tired."

and I'm definitely not going exploring in braies and a nightshirt!

This seemed to reassure the automaton, and his perplexed whirring eased. "Oh, I see, sir!"

That was beginning to get unnerving. 

"You, um. You can call me Luke," the boy decided.

"I see, Sir Luke!" 

Threepio missed the point entirely.

"Be that as it may, my studies have indicated that it is very important for children to have regular schedules for sleep."

He pulled open the cupboard, and Luke spotted several stuffed toys sitting on the shelves. 

Luke had never owned any stuffed animals. Biggs's family was well-off, and he'd had a cloth lamb made with real wool for many years. Luke had once asked his aunt to make a lamb or puppy from cloth scraps, but it had been beyond her skill to do so.

Most people considered a twelve year old farmhand to be much too old to cling to toys. He was supposed to be working in the fields like older children. But just now...after everything...

Threepio turned slightly and saw that the master's little guest was staring at the handmade wolf with undisguised longing in his eyes. Ah! Then he had correctly guessed the proper sleep rituals of young humans after all, how marvelous. Threepio lifted the stuffed wolf down from the shelf and closed the cupboard again. He set it down on a little table beside the bed. Luke had been lucky not to crack his head against it when he'd rolled off the mattress before.

"There!" Threepio said proudly, "If you require anything at all during the night, the cord beside the bed will summon one of us. I will inform the other automatons of your preferences thus far."

He slipped into the open panel on the bedroom wall, then vanished down a dark tunnel full of pipes. The panel slid shut without a seam, as though it had never opened in the first place. 

Luke waited several minutes before setting the towel down to put on his braies. They were a little big after all, and he had to cinch the belt closer than usual. The nightshirt was, indeed, down to his knees. In fact, it went a little beyond them. It would be difficult to run in the sleep clothes. But Luke had a strong suspicion that if he were to return to the room with the bathing pool, his dirty clothes would no longer be there.

Luke cast a regretful look at the stuffed wolf, then tiptoed out of the night-nursery.

[theoriginalladya]

100 Days of Writing - Day 11

@the-wip-project asked:

How do you create your characters? Do you make a profile of them? Do you know your character before you start writing the story?

Over my years of writing I've found a number of different ways to develop and keep track of my characters as they show themselves. I can't say I have one specific way that works - it's all dependent upon the story, the characters themselves, and their purposes in the story. But there are a few general things I can share. I guess you can say that they fall into a 'profile' for them?

I'm not an artist, so I tend to rely on images I can find online for 'face claims' for characters. If I have a really good idea of what they look like, and most time I do from the beginning, or nearly the beginning, I try to find an image that is as close as possible to represent them. I am a very visual person - I need to see them to be able to write them. So some sort of facial image - a photograph, artwork, etc. - always helps

Many of my notes end up in notebooks - mostly handwritten, though I do use Word and OneNote to help organize different things about my stories, too. I usually go handwritten at first - something as simple as scraps of paper, a stack of post it notes, even an old college notebook that barely has any pages left. If it's a character I know will be a biggie in my story, or my main character, I'll invest in a new/unused notebook for them. Some are fancier than others (depending on my mood and finances at the time), but all contain descriptions of the character, little snippets of dialogue I've thought of for them, notes about their plots, character development exercises so I get a better feel for them, notes about their background/family, ideas for their character development I don't want to forget to put into the story, etc.

I mentioned 'character development exercises' - but that's just a fancy way of saying 'ideas about how they progress from the beginning to the end of the story'. Events in their life. Problems they have. Death, sickness, drama, etc. Interaction with certain characters. Sometimes I start noodling out bits and pieces of their interaction well before I've even got a plot sorted out for them, and I don't want to forget that, so I write it down. Again, in notebooks, or sometimes in Word, because typing happens almost at the speed of thought, right?

So, basically, anything and everything I know about my characters ends up in a 'notebook' or 'document' and 'file' somewhere at some point. It all sounds a lot more organized than it really is, but it helps.

As for knowing a character before I start? Most of the time, I do know them, at least well enough to have a good grasp of how they speak, react in certain situations, etc. That works really well when I get the idea for a character first.

Other times, I start with pretty much a blank page and just write. In these instances, it's the idea of the story that hits me hardest, and I have to start writing it down to see what characters want to get involved. It's more of a challenge, especially for someone like me who is more visual inclined, but it works well enough the few times I've tried it. This is kind of what happened when I started writing my Robyn's Hoode story. I mean, we all know who the major characters are, but it begins with a battle up in Northern England/Southern Scotland involving two minor characters for whom I had a very vague idea - Robin's father, Marian's father - and that's it. By the end of that chapter, I had a much better idea of who they are (even if one doesn't survive).

(example below the cut because this got long)

To the east, lying against one of the outer walls of the castle of Alnwick, Gilbert spotted him. Or, rather, spotted the standard raised above. Several bodies blocked the rest from view, one on bended knee, but all hovered in a semi-circle around what could only be a body. Hugh’s body. Lips tightening into a thin line, Gilbert pressed onward. Refusing to see to it personally would not change the grimness of the outcome, no matter how much he wished it.

Purpose and authority marked every step, and those gathered soon parted, making way for the lord of Loxley. His eyes dropped immediately, and for once in his life, Gilbert cursed himself, wishing he was wrong. Hints of crimson bled through plates of mail on his chest, and dribbled down Hugh's cheek and chin like a burbling babe’s drool. Inevitability and acceptance shone clear in familiar green eyes, and Gilbert knew without a doubt it wasn't meant to be.

Dropping to a knee beside the litter, he reached out a hand, bracing it against Hugh’s shoulder. “You had to go and split our forces,” he murmured with a hint of humor despite the severity of the situation.

Hugh, eyes slowly finding the blue of his friend’s, coughed out a laugh, ignoring the fresh spurt of liquid staining his lips. “You… you know me, my… my lord,” he rasped through labored breaths.

Gilbert’s hand tightened over the armor. “That I do, my friend,” he replied. For years, Gilbert relied on Hugh’s battle savvy tactics when taking to the field. Most times it the outcomes were successful, leaving he and his men relatively unscathed. Hugh was a natural when it came to tactics, and Gilbert could honestly say he had learned quite a bit from him over the years.

“M-my… lord…?”

Hugh’s eyes closed tightly as he struggled to speak. Death was stalking him, and surely wouldn’t be long in arriving. “What is it?”

“Will… Mari…”

Gilbert sighed heavily. Moving his hand from Hugh’s shoulder, he took his friend’s hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. “Your children will be safe,” he promised without hesitation.

“T-take them?”

Hugh’s eyes opened, finding his, but Gilbert didn't miss the clouds now present. “God and King Henry approving,” he replied, “I will make them my wards. Your lands, your children, your legacy. They will live on. Fear not on that account, my friend.”

Hugh struggled to inhale, what air he could take in rattled alarmingly. His lips moved as he struggled to speak, mostly likely his final words… but nothing save one long, drawn out, exhale of breath escaped.

Gilbert remained as he was for a long, expectant moment, but when Hugh’s chest no longer rose and fell, he understood. “God go with you, my friend,” he murmured, gently settling Hugh’s hand over his chest, the hilt of his sword loosely in his grasp. Rest in peace, my friend, and watch over us who remain.

Pushing himself to his feet, Gilbert searched around the area for Roger. He stood nearby, out of the way of those gathered around Hugh. Nodding to the lad to gain his attention, he walked over to join him. “Help with the arrangements for Sir Hugh's body to be returned to my estates,” he said. Searching the area again, he asked, “Where is my horse?”

“This way, my lord,” Roger replied, guiding him down to the left and in the direction from which they’d come. “My lord…?”

Finding his steed, Gilbert accepted the reins and pulled himself up into the saddle with assistance. Several others, mostly of his retinue of bodyguards headed to assist with Hugh formed up nearby. “I will meet you there, Roger. I have a stop to make on the way home.”

In this instance, the only thing I knew about Gilbert when I started writing was that he is Robert of Loxley's father and that he and Hugh FitzWalter were good friends. Also, that Hugh was one of his knights. For Hugh, I knew even less. Eye color is the only thing that I really got for him - and still have, for that matter, all these years later. However, seeing as Hugh doesn't survive, I felt comfortable enough to at least draft out this chapter.

But, like I said, every story, every character is different. Ideas can be triggered by a picture, a song, a word, a certain piece of food, a scent, a part of a dream - it really doesn't take much with my muses! lol

[kv-muskwa]

snippets

These are all just the ones I have on my google drive, the rest are all on my laptop and like a good 4 of them were on my phone before it broke so RIP all those ones, they’re gone forever

Afk Arena -

5 + 1 

Shaking his head, Baden looked at Thane and felt his breath catch in his throat.  Thane had a soft smile on his face, a rarity that only very few were privy too. Dried sweat made the loose hairs stick to the sides of his face, outlining his sharp jawline. The late afternoon sun only brought out his mesmerizing dark eyes and brought attention to his long eyelashes.  Dura, he was beautiful.  Baden glanced away, nervously changing the subject. His wife was expecting.

Icy Winds Consumed By Shadows

Joining Shemira on the ground, he glanced back up to where Kelthur still sat. "How did you find out?" He kept his voice quiet so only Shemira would hear, the sounds of the forest drowning out his voice from being carried.  Shemira didn't reply right away, instead letting out a soft sigh. "Silvina. Her and Kelthur were sent out to gather more oils when they came across the wind whisperer."  Ferael blinked a few times before looking at Shemira. "When?"  Shemira looked up at Kelthur, who was climbing higher in the tree with an amused grin. Kelthur waved down at them and she waved back. "A few weeks ago, before autumn."  Ferael nodded. He made sure to keep himself as calm as he could, though silently cursing.

An Uneasy Camaraderie 

"I may have chosen this, but I assure you; many of the men and women who fight alongside us on the battlefield didn't. There is a reason why we have the division in our own undead factions. While some of us get along, there are those that don't. I only told you this as a warning when it comes to trying to understand us, we aren't all evil as you have presumed."  There was silence among the few gathered around the fire until Kaz jumped up. Running and pouncing, she jumps at Ferael, making both Silvina and Kelthur laugh as the archer struggles to catch his balance. Kaz grins from her spot on top the archers shoulders. "Pffft- you're getting slow, old man!" Kaz laughs, jumping off of Ferael.  "Shhh, don't say that to his face! He's touchy~" Silvina jokes as Ferael walks away  throwing his hands up in the air.  Kelthur stops laughing, cursing under his breath before turning towards the girls with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, would hang longer but I'm being forced to go with him back to the forest to restock."

Transforners -

Evening Out The Battlefield  

Glancing down at his arms, he did a quick internal scan to see if anything major was injured. Thankfully, his important and major systems were functional, only superficial wounds that appeared but he’d dealt with worse so those could wait. Unfortunately, because it was, of course, an organic planet, he had dirt, leaves and sticks stuck in his amour seams. Never mind the scratched and scrapped paint by his less than gracious crash landing, Sunstreaker already felt annoyed by this planet.  Getting up and trying to ignore the gross feeling of dirt and gunk caked in between his plating, he stared to where their pod crashed. They’d travelled a long way and he was honestly surprised that their escape pod even lasted as long as it did. When they broke the planet’s atmosphere, the pod had overheated which was probably why they’d been flung out of it.  Reaching out with his spark bond, he felt Sideswipe begin to online. With his spark directing him towards his brother, Sunstreaker curled his lip. He could feel the dirt creep into his joints and protoform with every step he took.  Primus he hated organic planets. Why did Prime choose an organic planet?

Wherever The Solar Blasts Take Us

Having stopped by a tech shop earlier to buy some ‘high tech’ computers which were really primitive, he was relieved to find out that his old credit card still worked. Of course, this was still going off on the hope that the autobots really were struggling like he had assumed. If not, he could just give it to one of their human friends, maybe he could win some points.  It wasn’t because he was nervous, no way!  Knockout felt his spark quicken up as he drove into Jasper. He never really gave it much thought on why neither him or Breakdown had reported to Megatron that he was aware that the autobots resided somewhere nearby the small town. He had told Star, who only shrugged at the information.

BNHA -

All You’ve Got Is Yourself(And Me)

Dear God, he was still alive and quirkless and useless.  "You are still alive. And completely healed." A rough voice spoke through his sobs. Izuku took a deep and shaky breath, shakily sitting himself up. He wiped his tears with his sleeves though it was done in vain as the tears kept pouring out.  The man was now crouching beside him, head tilted as he watched Izuku. "Did you know you would survive?"  "No." The answer spilled out of Izuku's mouth before he could even process his mouth opening. A fresh wave of sobs and tears worked it's way to his throat, though he was now trying to calm his breathing. The stranger hummed, before tugging on Izuku's sleeve. "Well, no one else besides me saw. I'd say get out of here before people come near and see you sitting in a big pool of your own blood."  Izuku nodded and stood up before freezing altogether. A pool of his own blood. That meant- looking at the sidewalk, Izuku noted the large splatter of blood across the ground. It painted the sidewalk a dark, angry red.

The Terror Teens 

He’s glad he brought her. She can deal with Giran better than he could, even on a good day. Despite dealing with the older man for the past four years, he still finds him insufferable. Who cares if he’s doing alright? Why act as if he actually gave a damn about Izuku when he was still selling him weapons and support equipment?  God, he’s annoying.  “Whoa, that’s an impressive face you’re making Midoriya.” Giran says, chuckling as he pulls out a cigarette from his pack. “It’s in the car but first we’re waiting for someone else.”  Himiko nodded before bouncing over to the old man. “Who would that be? Are they fun? Are they going to stab Izu again? Why didn’t you bring it with you? Where’s your car? Are you planning to do something gross with us old man? Are you a pervert?”  Giran takes a long drag of his cigarette while stepping away from the girl before letting out a long sigh. “If I didn’t know that you guys have the money, I wouldn’t even bother with putting up with you two.”  Izuku rolled his eyes at the fond tone Giran used. Did he expect them to believe he even cared for them besides being regular customers? Himiko let out a faux gasp before running to Izuku in a dramatic show of fake crying. “Izuuuuuu! He was being mean to me!” “Well someone has too.” Izuku replied, grinning at the look Himiko shot him. He ignored the choked sound Giran made.  She placed a hand over her heart, looking both offended and shocked as she took a dramatic step back. “Izu, I thought we were friends.”

Fog In The Peripheries

Izuku opens his eyes. The fog is gone, instead replaced with confusion before being overrun with pure terror. The labs again.  Izuku struggles against the restraints, feeling sick at the too bright fluorescent lighting, not seeing the doctors come rushing to him. At the sight of a doctor, Izuku goes limp, staring at the ceiling as all fight leaves him.  If he fights it will only hurt more. He will be punished before something would happen and he will be pulled into the fog once more.

Some Things Never Change(d) - Suspected Traitor AU

It’s hard not to notice the way everyone’s been treating him. Very reminiscent of his life before now.  Izuku notices the way everyone has slowly pulled away from him. How no one partners up with him besides Todoroki or Iida. How they seem to avoid him whenever they can. He notices how they cut him off when he’s talking. How they’ll walk away if he’s heading in their direction. How they talk about him whenever he’s not in the room, something he couldn’t believe the first time it happened.  He had been running back to the classroom to grab his school bag, having written an idea for the new headphones Mei was working on for his costume. He was outside the doors, still in the hallway when he heard Uraraka and Iida arguing. About him. “You can’t trust Deku!” Uraraka. “This entire thing makes no sense!” Iida You were an idiot to think things would change just because you have a quirk.  But why? Is there ever a reason?

A Convenient Scape Goat - Homewrecker Au

“You’re quirkless, yet while you attended U.A, you had a quirk which you used. Now, you are once again quirkless. How are we supposed to believe you that you’re not connected to-” Izuku didn’t bother listening, staring a hole into the table. All Might hadn’t bothered wasting time, demanding Izuku to give him One For All back as soon as he was taken into police custody. Of course, Izuku realized that it was his plan all along to get it back. He wasn’t surprised, but it still hurt. Knowing that his hero, the one man he had believed and trusted had used him and then looked for a way to throw him away. Izuku was only a means to the end, though he had wondered what would have changed if he had never introduced All Might to his Mom.  Would All Might have actually cared about training him? Would he have been proud of him? Would All Might actually care about him other than seeing him as a mistake as soon as he brought up his own issues with his Mom? Izuku would never know.  Because it was All Might’s fault he was here in the first place.  Izuku was shaken from his thoughts as a hand gripped his hair and slammed it into the metal table. He heard the crunch of his nose breaking again, though he only shut his eyes closed. He would not give them the satisfaction of crying, not even as they repeated the motion until the darkness of unconsciousness took him.

[kisarastrife]

Hi, long time no talk. :) on my part obviously

I managed to kick my arse into gear after a despicable 4 year disappearance. My writing is very different from years ago, by that I hope it reads better than before, and I just wanted to say thanks for all the lovely messages and reviews everyone has been leaving on Paper Roses throughout the 4 years I’ve gone off the radar

A new chapter shouldn’t be too much longer in the works, so here’s a tiny snippet of some new content. Thanks again! xx

Kisara poured herself into trying to get a better understanding of her role as CEO. It was tedious and tiring pouring over so much corporate jargon and more than once she found herself walking away from documents completely pissed off with the complicated subject-matter. But procrastination was always a dangerously attractive option too, and she found herself delving back into the boxes of her parents’ belongings, into the small scraps that proved they had been people. And buried in one of the boxes, Kisara found her attention landing squarely on some bound-together lined pages.

They weren’t out of the ordinary save for how old and stained some of them were, a ring-stain from a cup of coffee here and there, but the same neat handwriting throughout the reams of pages and sketches too. It was a manuscript. That thought dawned on her as she flicked through the pages of her father’s writings and saw hieroglyphics drawn onto the pages too. There was a map of the Valley of the Kings, and the mention of an ancient game … but it was the sketch of a sarcophagus that really drew her attention in. Finger tracing over the faded old pencil, Kisara scrunched her nose up and felt a strange bolt of déjà vu hit her; she had seen that before. Of course it sounded ridiculous that she had seen a lifetime-old sketch before, but she felt like she had.

[rallamajoop]

Regis/Yennefer(/eventually Geralt) snippet

So, I may have mentioned I have this book-verse Geralt/Regis/Yennefer fic I’m working on, which basically arose from my brain going, “Okay, but what if there was an AU version of A Shard of Ice, only instead of Istredd, Regis was the other man Yen was involved with, and instead of her breaking it off with both of them, it ended with an OT3?”

The fic in question is coming along well, but as it necessarily sticks to Geralt’s POV, there’s no obvious place in it for this little scene, which is clearly about Regis and Yennefer meeting up shortly before the main action of the story, with Geralt nowhere in sight. Possibly I’ll end up posting this eventually as some sort of prequel from the same series (plans for which already include a much longer prequel about how Yennefer and Regis met in this ‘verse). But in the meantime I figured, hell, why not also dump it here -- see if it can help spark any interest in this crazy new OT3 of mine.

“So,” said Regis, “this young man of yours…”

“Only you and I,” said Yennefer, smiling, “could call him a young man. He’s a witcher, and though not so very old by their standards, I fear he is as mature as he shall ever be. Were he but an ordinary man, he might by now have sons of his own whom I could take to bed without troubling my conscience.”

“Well then,” said Regis, “this witcher of yours – however young or old he may be. The two of you seem to have already acquired quite the reputation.”

“Ugh, Dandelion, that accursed minstrel.” Yennefer made a face. “He follows Geralt around like a child at her mother’s skirts, meaning to sing of his exploits – or did, until I scared him away. So yes, he had the fortune to be there when Geralt and I met, though he is no more faithful with the truth than any other troubadour you might meet. He might as well leave Geralt alone and construct his ballads upon scraps of hearsay for all the difference it would make.”

“Am I to understand, then,” said Regis, who was certainly not smiling, “that the account of a djinn whom, on being released, came within a hair’s breadth of levelling all the town of Rinde…?”

The look Yennefer shot him might have toppled a lesser man. “If you really wish to irritate me, Regis, by all means, recite the whole thing – I’m sure there’s a verse somewhere I haven’t yet committed to memory in the last dozen times it’s been performed in my presence.”

“Oh, come on, Yennefer – I know you far too well to imagine there isn’t some part of you enjoying the attention,” Regis declared, no longer resisting that smile, but before she could interrupt, added, “But I asked not to irritate you, but from genuine curiosity. To hear more of this Geralt of yours from a reliable source, for a change.”

Yennefer was not greatly mollified. “Is it Geralt you wish to hear about,” she asked, “or do you simply wish to know whether his presence means you will not enjoy the usual pleasures you look forward to on my visits?”

Regis regarded her without a trace of embarrassment. “I would be a liar to deny my curiosity about either of the matters to which you refer.”

“Well, let me speak plainly, Regis: Geralt may or may not be with me when next we meet one another, but in the meantime,” and so saying, she moved meaningfully forward into Regis’ space,” I do not intend to deny myself.”

He’d expected nothing less, but it was nice – very nice indeed – to know. There was much to be said for Yennefer’s directness. “And if…”

With a gloved finger on his throat, Yennefer stopped him before he could complete the question. “As for Geralt himself, why trust my opinion? You may make up your own mind.” Slowly, she ran her finger upwards as she spoke, under his chin. “I will find some excuse to send him to you readily enough. Though if you find him particularly objectionable, please do me favour of keeping your opinions to yourself.”

“Hm,” said Regis, now aware – and certainly not unpleasantly so – this might be the last he got to say on the subject for some time, “and supposing that instead, I find I like him very much?”

Yennefer grinned. “Then we will all have something to celebrate.”