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roseykat · 2 years

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TITLE: Loss of Inihbition

WC: 1.5k

PAIRING: Hyunjin x reader

WARNING: minors DNI, I am and will be posting NSFW SKZ related content in the future and I know I won’t be able to regulate and monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please just don’t engage with it or my page whatsoever. Much appreciated.

TAGS: choking (m/receiving), oral fixations, established relationship, masturbation, there isn’t any use of pronouns but the reader has been described with a clit.

SUMMARY: Hyunjin wants to watch you get off while his fingers are in your mouth.

NOTE: hello, I’m Rose. I’m not exactly new to writing smut but, let’s just see how this rolls.

Hyunjin has never really been the type to tease. He’s a person who is intent on giving you what you want because he loves you and doesn’t like to see you suffer. In that sense, you’re not a brat about it, or more that you don’t need to act like one when he’s willing to give into you.

Not that you would be one in general, at least you don’t think. Not until today when Hyunjin, for the first time, decided to not fully give you what you craved.

What started off as the usual movie night on Friday, turned straight into something from a niche porn scene. On the couch in front of the TV, you share a warm blanket with Hyunjin curled up at his side. His arm had been draped around your shoulder, occasionally massaging your scalp or playing with your hair. He’d sneak a kiss on top of your head every now and then before things began to escalate.

At first, you hadn’t noticed that Hyunjin’s eyes had been fixated on you instead of the screen for a while. To really grab your attention, he’d ask for a kiss which you melted right into his request. From then on, his lips would never leave yours, luring you deeper into his trap.

The movie playing in the background drowns out, converting into white noise as you focus entirely on Hyunjin who lets the blanket softly fall to the ground and shifts you onto your back.

“Hyunjin,” you murmur when he breaks away from the kiss. The anticipation of what you think and hope is about to happen is put on pause when he regrettably stops the situation from advancing any further.

“Let me watch you,” Hyunjin mutters against your lips. “I want to see you get off by yourself.”

You blink at least several times before you can even fashion a coherent sentence in your brain. It’s not that it was an embarrassing task to perform, but you were somewhat…floored to hear what Hyunjin desired.

You’ve done this countless times without him there, but never when he’s right beside you and watching like a hawk. It makes you feel shy and partially helpless when he’s not participating with you.

“Can’t…can’t we just-“

“Maybe afterwards,” Hyunjin interrupts, already thinking two steps ahead of you.

The word ‘maybe’ didn’t sit right in your vocabulary. If this was the direction that things were going to head down tonight, you hoped that ‘maybe’ would turn into an affirmative ‘yes’ at some point. Complying with his need would possibly guarantee that. So, you obey.

Your hand slips past the band of your shorts and underwear then down to your clit, now fully aware of how wet you are to the touch. Not even five minutes of making out can already have your insides subliminally reeling with the subtleties of what this man can do to you.

A small whine escapes your mouth as Hyunjin peels himself off of your body. As he goes to lean back, he takes the ends of both sides of your pyjama shorts, slowly tugging them down to your ankles, leaving you exposed in your underwear and hoodie.

Your cheeks immediately flush with heat while he smiles faintly, too absorbed in the way you were touching yourself, almost as if he were possessed.

“Don’t be shy baby,” Hyunjin prompts softly, noticing that your hand stopped moving. “Think about what I usually do to you if that helps.”

It did.

His advice drains your hesitation as you begin to envision the myriad of occasions where Hyunjin has brought you to multiple orgasms. Your brain coils with torrents of feverish memories as you continue to touch yourself. One that springs to mind was Hyunjin’s birthday.

After showering him with well-deserved gifts, you were set on giving him the time of his life in bed until he suddenly turned the tables. By the end of that night, Hyunjin had bent you over the counter and finger fucked you until you were shaking and dripping on the tiles of the kitchen floor.

“Hyunjin,” you swallow hard, air hitching in your throat.

“That’s it,” he encourages.

Attempting to hold back your moans was a futile move, not when Hyunjin’s avid ears can effortlessly pick up on your staggered breathing. The faster the pace, the more he knew you were close to the edge of an orgasm. Only then did he lean over you once more, placing a chaste kiss on your parted lips before noticing that his long and spindly fingers hover in front of your mouth.

You understand his idea undoubtedly, but regardless of the euphoric haze that gradually submerged you, one thing that became apparent was that Hyunjin didn’t sport any of his rings. Based on that, you couldn’t help but wonder briefly if this was all premeditated.

Not that it mattered.

“Open,” he says to you, his fingers still waiting patiently. You swallow first and catch your breath before your mouth welcomes them in.

The warm heat encapsulating around Hyunjin’s fingers makes his dick twitch in his pants, almost easy enough to make him come untouched if he’s not careful. Seeing and hearing the lewd sounds you make when you begin to suck has Hyunjin’s mind swirling, making him dizzy.

It takes him twice the amount of restraint he needs to refrain from touching you altogether.

He continues to leave that job to you. Your fingers are enough to satiate that primal need to have Hyunjin inside of you - they’re not enough, but it does the trick. Sooner than later, the build-up of pleasure takes shape, balling in your lower abdomen as it makes you squirm under Hyunjin. Your free hand quickly grips at his forearm, nails digging into the skin.

“So good,” he praises in a sweet, dulcet tone.

His eyes refuse to leave your body, they never drift from your contorted face or where his fingers disappear into your mouth. They pet and glide easily over your tongue that yields to them so perfectly, glistening and coated in saliva. You try your best to suck on them even though you’re too crazed on trying to come.

It’s not long until you become frantic, rabidly chasing the tail end of your orgasm that you only wished Hyunjin would do for you. The intense sensation makes you feel deranged, so much that your free hand goes from gripping and clawing at Hyunjin’s arm to somehow finding its path to the sides of his neck.

Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over with pure hunger and greed as you increasingly add pressure to squeeze. It’s not the first time you’ve choked Hyunjin, in fact he was the one who initially rallied for the idea in the early stages of your relationship.

It was a swift discovery into his treasure chest of kinks that was not only subtle but insanely effective on him.

His eyelids flutter as you moan and whine around his fingers just watching him enjoy this as much as you are. You continue to rub repeatedly over your clit in a heated and messy frenzy while the fabric of your underwear soaks through.

Hyunjin barely blinks in fear that he’s going to miss watching you writhe in pleasure when suddenly, your eyes screw shut as you bring yourself to the peak of an intense orgasm.

Long, loud strings of whimpers and mewls shoot vibrations through Hyunjin’s fingers and into his hand. He wasn’t able to explain why but it felt strangely good - nothing in comparison to seeing your body shudder and shiver uncontrollably when surges of pleasure swell throughout your insides.

He retracts his wet fingers that still linger along your lips, smoothing and rubbing over them. Your chest heaves up and down, long before it finds a steady, calm rhythm.

Hyunjin breathes hard and heavy too with a feral glint in his eyes after your hand falls from the sides of his neck, landing beside you. The other one, still down the front of your underwear, is brought up by the help of Hyunjin, who as if he’s totally unhinged now, takes your middle and index fingers in his mouth.

The sudden action has your eyes widening, “H-Hyunjin…”

You go to pull your hand back, wildly flustered about the fact that Hyunjin is sucking every bit of your essence off of your fingers. But he stills you with a sharp stare before he’s done, leaving a trail of spit connecting from your fingertips and his lips.

It’s obscene and lewd, yet the beautifully demented part of Hyunjin’s brain wishes he could’ve taken a photo of it. Maybe next time.

“Sorry,” he swallows. “You look so pretty when you come…I couldn’t help myself.”

You were utterly speechless yet not entirely surprised at the same time.

Hyunjin has never really been one to tease, but you forget there are times where he can be maniacally and incessantly aroused. Thinking about it makes something spark inside you once more. It makes you excited to feel it since Hyunjin has yet to have his own fill.

NOTE: I strictly do not permit any copying, editing, rewriting or remakes of my work nor do I allow them to be uploaded to any other site or social media platform. Tumblr is the only site I will be using to post this type of content so if you see it elsewhere, then it has been stolen.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids imagines #hyunjin x reader

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borisbubbles · 1 year

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Eurovision 2023 PRESHOW - part 1: the BAD entries

Okay, so here we go.

37 Countries, and sadly not as much time as I would like to cover all of them.

Thus, 37 rambly write ups in which i loquaciously air my gripes and grievances about the upcoming famewhores / artists competing at the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest.

There will be no holds barred and no prisoners taken. This year is trashy, some of it shit, but a lot of it is more fun than last year’s Rulll Musique!! 🙂

In this post we’ll deal with the BAD ENTRIES so we get them out of the way and you know who to hold in contempt for the next two months.

Without further ado, in last place we have:

37. GREECE Victor Vernicos - “What they say” Semifinal 2, slot #08

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There’s quite a bit of subparness in this mix, but nothing is quite as tragic as this miscarriage of a song. It’s already bad enough that you have to rig an internal selection. It’s embarrassing to rig it for this absolute garbage. Was the scandi money worth the price of your top 10 streak, ERT? Was it really?!

Okay, so first and foremost “What they say” has some of the worst chord progression at this contest. Overproduced, obnoxious, cloying and abrasive, all at the same time. Its general cadence is that of an American driving in shift-stick gear. Why does it constantly interrupt itself? Is this supposed to create dramatic pauses where we can figure out what words he’s supposed to have said?

Secondly, the fucking CURSED singing. I don’t care how good of a vocal talent you are, but if you twist your words like marble-mouthed goober into intelligibility such as “assholes make joy no one loses their whey” you’ve fucked up. WHY do the indie zoomer cunts insist on engaging in this tomfoolery? Do they think it gives them a personality and makes them relevant?

Thirdly,

“Cuz u no wud dey seh?

” THEY SAY, *WHAT*?!

The message. The older I get, the fewer fucks I am willing to spare yet another mewling milktoother whining about “how fucked up the world is, it’s too late for me”. Yet, here we are, “a lost soul” (sorry, “asshole”) and “hurt one” (sorry, “huyt wun”) who solemny declares for nobody but himself his precious little feelings are hurt and thus his life is over.

:inhales:

YOU ARE SIXTEEN!!! 😤😤😤😤

HOW CAN YOU SAY YOUR LIFE IS OVER, YOU’RE FUCKING SIXTEEN!!!!

this is like when Sebastian Rejman and Elliot Vassamillet implied that they would ACTUALLY HAVE SLEEPLESS NIGHTS about how bad a place the world is, when in reality they’re so fucking white upper middle class their privilege ALONE enabled them to bore us with soapbox preaching. Even if we don’t assume this isn’t some self-aggrandising hyperbole - having a cause to live and die for is great mate, but if you’re really going down that rabbit hole of “it being too late” at that point in your life, take a step back, get some professional counselling and don’t go to Eurovision, where you get shredded apart by fat frumpy arseholes like me!

Odds at Eurovision - Greece

I’m inclined to say this gets through, because it IS Greece and good lord Denmark is also voting for this, aren’t they? Like unironically even WITHOUT taking the fact that he’s half a Dane (X___X) into account.

And yet... I will point out that when Argo and Yianna NQ’d, Greece were performing in the same semifinal as Cyprus. 🙂

Besides, “What they say” is so ROTTED that I could absolutely see it receive votes from just Cyprus and Denmark and then nothing from any other country, dooming it to NQ purgaory. I would feel more confident if (1) we knew how Victor’s live performance skills are (given that he has no experience, i’m willing to guess they’re not very good) (2) Cyprus were actually much, much better than Greece, so they could deliver the killing blow by hoovering up the Hellene vote. Sadly, Cyprus picked Andrew Lambrou. (more on *that* soon.) if Victor does go through, I think he’s a serious contender for last place in the finale. 🙂

Qualifier Tier: C Predicted placement: 8-14th (semi), 20-26th (Grand Final)

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36. ISRAEL Noa Kirel - “Unicorn” Semi 1, slot #10

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Remember when Starbucks pioneered Unicorn Lattes, which were the saccharine multicolour abominations the zoomers pretended to like because they were in vogue? That’s the first thing I think about whenever Noa Kirel springs to mind. 🙂

The Fandom’s tastes have reached a new low if ANY woman with ANY even remotely uptempo song can be deemed “a slay” because of her gender, privilege and money. Like seriously. Europe selects a few straight male acts (none of which are honestly *bad*) in a row and the fan bubble IMMEDIATELY -out of what I assume has to be a combination of Stockholm Syndrome and latent misandry- imprint onto the first woman they see and crown her a queen without second thoughts.

Like yeah, sure Unicorn is phenomen-phemonen phenominally bad. Like on several levels? Unicorn is actually not offensive because it’s pandering and annoying (although it is very much is both of those things), but because it’s so fucking BORING and it has no excuse to be that way.

Unicorn is a wash of different styles, none of which go together btw, all of which tap into the lowest and commonest of denominators. Its scuffed parts are equally far away from “slay”. The worst offender is the dance break at the end that does NOT suit the rest of the song, drawn inspiration from Efendi’s MATA HARI (honestly how doesn’t Israel just crawl under a rock in SHAME after doing that).

BUT THE POWER OF A YOO-KNEE-CAWN!!! whatever the fuck that means.

What also gets to me is that, despite the superficial shittiness of the catchphrases and buzzwords and fucking STUPID hand gestures, Israel also seem to not only expect the fandom to support them, but act like they’re entitled to it.

What you are entitled to Israel, is a big fat:

If there’s one act this year that has ZERO rights to be arrogant, it’s this one.

ODDS AT EUROVISION - ISRAEL

I’m going to be very brief here: this is bottom five in the grand final. We all know, deep down that Unicorn will fail to impress and everyone will simultaneously come to the conclusion that it’s really fucking shit, and it’ll strand itself in an obsequious 23rd place. End of story. Not wasting any more time on that.

It will qualify though. In a semi with more songs, and also more competitive songs in general, it would struggle to stand out and be on the cusp of qualification. This year though... Israel only need to beat five others, and three of those include Ireland, Azerbaijan and Netherlands, so... it’s through. Someone else will be that semi’s shock NQ.

Qualifier tier: B- Predicted Placement: 8th-10th (semi), 21st-25th (Grand Final)

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35. CROATIA Let 3 - “Mama ŠČ!” Semifinal 1, slot #07

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Imagine being subjected to that and having zero reaction to that whatsoever. If you can imagine that, welcome to my world! 😑

Yeah so, I can sort of respect the logic behind choosing Let 3 - Dora reached an all-time low with no real options (Harmonia Dissonance fully lived up to their name 😔) and Let 3 are a well-known and very well-established Shock Value Novelty Band, so might as well go for it!

The problem is that they’re fucking shit! 🙂

Like, “Mama ŠČ!” is the sort of nihilistic novelty nonsense i’d expect a Montenegro or San Marino to go for and, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed over the years, but I generally don’t care about the tomfoolery those countries send? I’d rather have something vapid that is pleasant to listen to, than something humourous but barely listenable.

Also, the humour. I understand some people find Let 3 funny. I don’t. At all. I think the problem is largely that “Mama ŠČ!” tries to go for Shock Value, but I find none of it particularly shocking? Dressing up a pasty white man as Lenin throwing missiles while yelling CROCODILE PSYCHOPATH isn’t particularly witty and -given the *actual missile throwing* going on in ukraine right now- kinda poor in taste?

I dunno. As you can tell, I respect Croatia MORE than Israel and Greece, because their entry isn’t just a safe attempt at qualification that will cruise to a bottom ten finish. It actually has a clear concept and identity! Sadly that doesn’t take away that it’s actually just kinda crap really. 😐

ODDS AT EUROVISION - CROATIA

This is the first of many entries in this year with an absurdly wide range in terms of where it can finish at the scoreboard.

So first off, there IS a chance the humor just doesn’t land and it NQ’s anyway. Given that the field in the first semi is what it is, I’m tempted to say that, like Israel, Croatia are through by default and perhaps more securely.

However unlike Israel, I could see this getting a good chunk of televotes, and I’m not sure whether I like this? Let 3 unironically remind me of two other godawful novelty entries (So Lucky and We Are The Winners) and I despise the idea of Croatia getting similar traction in a televote. This year generally has a lot of fun trash on offer, and it can do much better than this.

Still, I do think there’s a certain *appeal* for this, in the same sense there was a market for Ikke fucking Hüftgold. It could be a shock top 10! it could also just be ignored by everyone for being shit and annoying and get last in the finale. 🤷‍♀️

Qualifier tier: B Projected placement: 5th-12th (Semi), 13th-20th (Grand Final)

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34. SWITZERLAND Remo Forrer - “Watergun” Semi 1, slot #08

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I present to you: exhibit #1 to why i’m pleased juries are banned from the semi’s. 🙂 and of course the proof comes courtesy of Shitzerland.

So let’s get the USP out of the way first: Remo is a twink with a baritone’s voice aren’t you AMAZED?! Not really? Like he’s got a good voice but that’s not what I watch Eurovision for. I don’t admire people just because they’re competent at the things they’re supposed to be good at in the first place. (Well I don’t admire other people in general, period.) Sadly, Remo’s vocal chops are the only positive thing about “Watergun”!

To be fair I’m -at this stage at least- more bored than i’m annoyed, but the more I think about it, the more i realize that ‘Watergun” is rancid and deserves to be placed amongst the other bad entries. It really just is an uninspired, empty, bland-as-béchamel Voice Lauriate’s First Power Ballad Single, and honestly does anyone care about these? Nobody had a care when Will Church and Atle Pettersen sang their boring songs in a competent, powerful voice, and likewise nobody cares about Remo :-)

You will also notice that I’m not even addressing the, ah, very interesting choice of going with those lyrics and that message, at this point in time. I’m not going to indulge in that... yet. Such is the price of being EVIL on purpose. 🙂

Odds at Eurovision - SWITZERLAND

I REALLY want to believe in twink death, but good grief, look at semi 1. There are only five NQs, and more than five unvotable songs in it.

Rationally, Switzerland are less secure than most because -again- the televote did NOT turn up for Will Church or Atle Pettersen, but i’m not feeling as confident as I’d like. There are other countries in that semi which are equally hopeless or potentially even more of a televote repellent, so I guess by *default* Shitz could sneak in in like... 9th-10th?

As far as who would pick up their phone and vote for this, I honestly don’t have a clue. Cat ladies? Old Farts? Guillible fools? Idk. Certainly nobody with a will to live their best life. Like Victor, Remo is also an unironic contender for a bottom placement in the finale. Unlike Greece though, the path Remo will follow towards the bottom will involve him receiving several smaller jury votes, with another 0 from the televote as the coup de grâce.

Qualifier tier: C Projected Placement: 9th-14th (Semi), 19th-26th (Grand Final)

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NEXT UP: The mediocrities that I sorta pity and hold in contempt, but don’t have a particular dislike for. 🙂

#Eurovision 2023 #ESC 2023 #Liverpool 2023 #Preshow Ranking #BorisBubbles #Croatia #Let 3 #Mama SC!#Israel #Noa Kirel #Unicorn #Greece #Victor Vernicos #What They Say #Switzerland #Remo Forrer #Watergun

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misfitsandmusings · 1 year

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Affiliated With: @climatact // @piratebento // @multixroses 💕

MOBILE RULES UNDER CUT:

General / Important Rules:

This blog is independent, private, semi-selective, and medium to low activity. IC interactions are limited to mutuals only. I will not follow back if there are no easily accessible rules on your blog or I can't see our muses interacting.

AU, OC, and Crossover friendly, but I'm selective with OCs (an easily accessible about page is a must), and I tend to second-guess myself most and be slowest on OC and crossover content.

NSFW material will be present on this blog. The mun is 25+ and a fan of angst, dark themes, spicy/smut scenarios, and more. Smut will be tagged nsfw and hidden beneath a banner and a read more; other common triggering themes will be tagged appropriately. Minors may interact at their own risk, but note that I will not write any spicy/nsfw material with a mun under the age of 18. Any minors attempting to engage in nsfw material or caught lying about their age will be blocked on sight.

EXTREMELY IMPORTANT PSA: My muse and overall activity are sporadic. Sometimes I reply to things as soon as they come in; other times it may take me weeks. I go wherever the muse takes me, am prone to hyperfixating on threads, and I openly favor interactions with my affiliates (people I frequently chat with OOC!) I rarely respond to my drafts, asks, etc. in the order they came in. I might like or post meme calls even if I owe things. I might send you memes or unprompted things even if I already owe you things. None of this is meant to be hurtful; it's just how my brain works. For the sake of both my mental health and your time, please do not interact if any of these things are a deal-breaker for you.

That said, I like to think I'm a really laid-back RP partner. I'll never rush you for replies, I'm okay with dropped threads, I'm totally fine with (and encourage) you sending me memes or unprompted starters if even if you already owe me things... At the end of the day I'm here to have a good time and hope you are as well. Nobody should feel guilt or make others feel guilt over a hobby. If you're feeling it, DO IT - if you're not, you're not. Full stop, no explanation needed.

How to Interact:

If we're mutuals, feel free to send me memes, IC asks, headcanon prompts/requests, like my starter or meme calls, etc.

I'm also really interested in chatting with my mutuals ooc as well! I know this isn't everyone's favorite, but for me I find it easier to write with people I chat with on a regular basis. I'm generally very shy, but I value this so much I am 100% willing to reach out and be the outgoing one if you're shy or don't know how. You can literally just IM me like "Hi I want to talk but I'm shy!" and I will be like -cracks knuckles- "I GOT THIS."

A note about memes and inbox spam: When I say I welcome inbox spam, I freaking mean it. You can literally send me every prompt on a meme and I will not bat an eye. You can continue sending me memes even if you owe me things or I already owe you things - if the ask box is open and you want to send a thing, do it. As long as you've read "EXTREMELY IMPORTANT PSA" in the section above and are okay with me responding to things in random order or it taking me a while to get to everything, I generally encourage and even dare you to send whatever you feel like sending. To be honest if we’re just starting out I genuinely prefer receiving multiple memes. If you only send one and I don’t get a muse for it right away I’ll feel really bad and get angsty. 😭 So please do not hesitate to send lots and lots of memes!

Shipping Stuff:

The mun of this blog is shipping trash. I'm not only here for ships, but I'm not going to lie, I'm like... 75% here for ships. It's my RP experience and I make no apologies.

Ships are chemistry based and must be discussed beforehand. I will never force a ship or assume you're interested in one even if A ) our muses are together canonically or B ) I have our muses listed as a fave ship. Please don't assume or force a ship on me, either.

There's a "shipping info" section on each of my muse's bio pages in my card listing some of my favorite ships and any ship restrictions for them. I'm firm on my restrictions, but I'm open to exploring additional ships even if they're not listed in my favorites if you've got one you'd like to pitch!

As a general rule of thumb, my muses are portrayed as demisexual and demiromantic. I'm pretty openminded with my ships. I enjoy some toxic dynamics, I'm pretty lenient on age gaps as long as both muses are 18+... I'll add more to this as I think of them but yeah. If you're shy about pitching a ship, feel free to send in an anon ask to see how I'd feel about it.

NSFW memes are open exclusively to people I already ship with. Don't send me spicy stuff unless we've agreed to explore a ship beforehand.

This blog is multi-ship. I don't and will never do exclusives (please don't ask.) I'm more than open to writing the same ship with multiple people so if you see me RPing a ship you'd like to explore already, don't let that stop you from reaching out.

Other Misc. Notes:

Affiliates are people I talk with OOC a lot! I'm always open to more of these, so if we talk regularly and it's something you'd be interested in just be like: "👀 Affiliates?" and I will be like "Affiliates. -nod nod-" (Like, I think you'll know if we have this dynamic? I'm not subtle/shy.)

I LOVE AUs and playing in each other's verses. I love intertwined muses. If you like one of the threads or verses you see me writing with someone else and you think your muse would be interested in playing / adding to that dynamic, PLEASE DO IT I WOULD LOVE IT. I'm interested in exploring multi (2+) player verses/threads as well! I love canon-divergent "What If" scenarios and building entire AUs from the ground up as well as dabbling in each others' pre-existing verses.

#♡ // self promo ;#♡ // promo ;#one piece rp #fmab rp #fma rp #fullmetal alchemist rp #anime rp

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thequiver · 2 years

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Hey I'm also poc and while I don't know what other posts you've made I think I could offer some insight on your Shado post. I don't think you mean to be an authority but I can see how other person felt that way. Mainly with how you frame your choice to pick the Grell Shado. I understand why you do and think you give good points why. But your tone can make it seem like you are saying your choice is the one true best choice and other choices are lesser or more racist even unintentionally.

“For one there are never just two choices. If there is an A or B choice there is also a A+B and even C and D choices. If someone chooses to change Shado's rape story it is possible they could include other elements to maintain Ollie's survivor status for example. Its difficult because poc fans can have different tolerances for different tropes and we are balancing the needs of several groups with little talk of intersectionality.

“I would want to know what other poc survivors takes on Shado would be. I know for a lot of poc fans the rapist poc trope is far more hurtful to them personally than other racist sexual tropes. They may be willing to put up with what is to them several smaller tropes than one big one. For example I know a lot of black fans that love Blaxploitation films but hate the Green Mile. There may be more nuance in a person's decision of which Shado they want to engage with that could be expressed.”

As for the tone that’s just how I write when I’m talking about things that aren’t to be taken lightly and I will absolutely work on that when making further posts regarding racism in comics. I wasn’t aware that I was unintentionally painting the wrong picture and now that I am aware I’ll make a point of doing better.

The issue with this particular instance is that there…. Aren’t a lot of ways to change the story to keep Ollie as a survivor without erasing rather large swathes of the plot, which is part of why I frame the particular discussion regarding Shado in that way. The other reason is that, many of my anons regarding this issue very much do frame it as A or B, and these posts are sort of meant to address the many repeated questions I’m getting that frame it that way.

And yes, I too would love to see more posts from POC about Shado in general but especially about this particular issue, and I’d share them regardless of if they agreed with me or not. But there aren’t a lot of people talking about Shado, and fewer still talking about this particular issue in a public forum. Which I get, given that I’ve had people intentionally try to trigger me and harass me in my inbox for talking about a white character’s trauma, and knowing the way that Arrowfam fans get harassed for talking about the text (ffs we had a hell of a January) I wouldn’t ask my POC survivor friends to make posts about this knowing the kind of backlash they are likely to receive. If they’re comfortable making it they know that I’ll support them and share their post and speak out in support and defense of them if they get harassed but….there is a real genuine concern there and as much as I’d love to see and share their thoughts in a public forum like this, I’m also very aware of why some of them don’t. My posts are borne from discussion with other fans who are POC and who are survivors, i don’t ever post about racism in comics without taking the time to listen to the people I know who are actually affected by the racism in the text and the fandom.

I’m more than happy to hear any suggestions you have and are willing to give me but I also…. Can’t make other people post things for me to share.

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howveryheather · 9 months

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my year of detoxing

In a sea of social media posts where seemingly everyone I know is hitting nothing but picture perfect traditional milestones — engagements, marriages, babies, houses — there’s gotta be one person who will be honest enough to talk about some of the moments which never get photographed because they aren’t made for it. I’m doing this for everyone who is drying themselves out. Maybe someone reading is going through this right now. Maybe they will in 10 years time. Or maybe they never get to this place and keep a cocktail of pills flowing for the rest of their life. (I hope they don’t.)

I worked hard this year to gradually wean myself off of my longest relationship to date: Xanax.

I’ve been taking Xanax since 2017, a few years after my first panic attack and a handful of medication starts and stops later. This was the one which clicked for me. The first time I took it I was on a plane. It lulled me into immediate sleep while everyone was still boarding. I woke up when we had been in the air for about an hour and ordered myself a sandwich and a drink.

I felt incredible. Seriously, it was the best I’ve ever felt in my life. Everything was so serene. When you feel this good, you are willing to do whatever you need to so you can keep this feeling for as long as possible.

Flash forward to 2018 and 2019 when I was paying off my student loans and later 2020 in the pandemic, 2021, and 2022. In the final three years, I was cycling through the pills too frequently. Usually a lot more than 10 MGs a week.

Xanax acted as a sleeping supplement more than anxiety aid. Almost everything happening in my life at the time was shaking hands with some other form of insanity. Every time I go back into my brain and remember this period of time, every time I attempt to write about it in a deeper way, there are so many moments where I wonder “Was it all so bad?” Yes it was, Heather’s brain. I had to build my own version of Rome in a few short years and there were all these shitty concessions I had to make to get there. Back then, I needed those pills to guarantee nine to 10 hours of sleep every night so I didn’t completely drop all the balls I was constantly juggling. My mood when I started to run out of my prescription was revealing of how close to the edge my overall sanity had become. The worst day for me was the two to three day period when the bottle was empty and I needed a refill. I despaired when I didn’t immediately receive one like clockwork, wailing hysterically on the inside. I rejoiced, buoyant with selfish happiness, only when I had a full vial.

With such emotional highs and lows, it shouldn’t come as much surprise I lashed out when my doctor suggested it was time to begin weaning me off in February 2023. Everything about this ask felt like a personal attack even if was meant to mitigate the issue of me taking way too many pills on a weekly basis. I did not like the implication I had a problem. I felt frightened at the prospect of losing the one thing in my life which could guarantee falling asleep in 10 minutes and not waking up once until the alarm went off. And I was filled with seething contempt thinking about the people I am loosely acquainted with that go on Instagram and post pictures in their Stories of themselves using the #zoloft hashtag with no added context. They kept their meds while mine were being taken away.

Mostly though, I felt alone. There were not many people I could talk to about what was going on with me. What good would it do if I could? It wasn’t like someone else could wean me off for me. The sounding board was myself.

Sometimes I need an initial outburst, a flood of feelings, a moment to react, before I can start to warm to suggestions and accept them. For as terrible as being off Xanax sounded, I wasn’t born on medication. I felt confident I could rise to the challenge and wean myself down to a smaller weekly dose. I believed, eventually, I could get off them completely though I had no real idea of when it would happen. Date TBD. My doctor had set a timeline for me to get down to half the dose by June. Over the months ahead, I started to wean myself down from 10 MG to 2 MG each week of benzos and then from 2 MGs to none each week.

The first month I committed to doing this was agonizing. I did it in gradual stages. First, I stopped taking medication on the weekends. Then, I started easing into going one day in the work week without it. None of it was enjoyable. I had to readjust my body to not receiving medication it had come to rely on for sleep at night. It was harder than ever to coax my mind and body to sleep during normal nighttime hours. I took afternoon naps or slept in the off hours whenever I felt tired. I could not get the 10 hours of sleep at night I was accustomed to anymore, so I figured I needed to meet exhaustion the moment I felt it.

I was tired when the sun rose. I was so tired. I drank coffee and dealt with it. I did feel victorious enough I had been able to get back three nights a week without taking anything. I decided to start going several weeknights in a row without Xanax.

This is when it felt like every brain cell I had was waging a revolution against me. My brain kept me perpetually wide awake. I’d get in bed at 10 PM and lie there as my brain and body screamed “I don’t know how to shut down!!!!!” Hours had passed by the time I’d fall asleep. I’d close my eyes for what felt like 30 minutes and I would wake up exhausted.

Everything felt too bright in the mornings. Sharp with a bizarre copper aftertaste. Too much sunlight. I needed sunglasses like I was hungover. There was a strange amount of irritation and aggression in the air. I silently despised my doctor calling this “my detox.” Though I did accept it. It happened. I was changing things.

The greatest worry I had about weaning off Xanax was my writing. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to write anymore or juggle my heavy workload off of medication. At first, I was noticeably slower. Once my body acclimated to being off benzos and staying off, I discovered it didn’t change how I wrote or the work I did or the passion I had for it. The heart of me was still alive and beating. If anything, my writing got much better.

Like all things which are unhealthy for you, I wanted Xanax more than anything in the world. My body ached for it. I missed the mornings after taking the pills the most. I used to feel like I waking up in a cloud. Hazy, pretty, pink days. Back when I would get refills, I had a “refill ritual.” I would go to Rite Aid and pick up my prescription. Then I would walk next door to Fresh Brothers. I would order a personal pizza and eat it after taking my dose. Benzos used to make me hungry.

My doctor and I talked about what I could take to relax myself during my weaning. It was suggested I try taking melatonin and valerian root. I started taking melatonin and it helped me sleep so much better at night. I take it every night now.

I was still weaning, even with melatonin. I had time to think during the traditional sleep hours.

In the darkness, hours away from sleep, I’d lie in my bed and psychoanalyze my personal life.

I thought about how so few of the major friendships or relationships in my lifetime have been privy to all the “eras” of Heather. Only a small handful of people have seen me through most of the timelines of who I am. Sometimes this is a distressing thought. The idea that everyone is only ever meeting me and knowing me at the age I am now. The history of a relationship with me – as friends, as lovers, as acquaintances — is always going to be quite young moving forward and just as short as it was in the past.

Often, I wonder what kind of space I occupy in someone’s life.

What does any one person who considers me a friend really think of me? Is anyone having fun? Did we learn anything?

This year, I asked myself big questions about people I had in my orbit or on the outskirts of it. These questions related to friends and lovers alike. Were we friends or did we work at the same company? Did I like this man I had been dating or was I trying to fit into some sort of impossible mold of a woman he wanted and would not budge on which I couldn’t be for him? What did I have to gain from these people? How did I become a better person because of them? How did they contribute to my growth, my happiness, my sense of self?

Everything hit a head when I came to the most important reckoning of all. Did I want these people to be in my life or was I addicted to the serotonin rush of seeing their messages and believing these messages were a sign of being wanted and needed?

I had not taken any Xanax for a month on August 9. I was less than a week of embarking into a massive project at work, something I had been working on since May.

Over the last few years, I have been lucky to make many inroads with my career. This last summer was the hardest I’ve ever worked in my entire life. It beat out the summer I spent working on the Icons Gala event by a mile. I spent three months deeply immersed in a sponsored series I was leading while still working on the other dozen daily items I was responsible for and doing all of my freelance on the side. In August, most of my days started at 6:30 AM and ended after 4 PM. I ate, slept, breathed my job. You’d think this would be something unpleasant, that I grew to hate it or I felt stressed out or there was some part of me that struggled somewhere but none of this is true. I was incredibly busy, but it felt good. I had a pep in my step, a balance to what a normal person would think was way too heavy of a workload for one person. Truth is, it has been like this since I started this job. I never worry or feel pressured because I like what I do. I really like it! (For whatever reason if I did feel pressured, I like knowing how I could always tell my managers and they’d help me dial it down.)

It was a successful sponsorship and we hit nearly all of our impression goals. The sponsorship lasted two months. 61 days. Not a day passed where I did not give it my full attention. When site traffic was so-so — not super high and not super low, in a strange floating middle ground I didn’t really like — I went back to the blueprint. I came up with more ideas and wrote that content up for a boost. Every little bit counts.

I felt like crying when I heard how pleased the sponsor was with the results because it was the first sponsorship I led on my own. I had worked so hard on it. My manager went on maternity leave while there was still another month left and then it really was me taking the lead.

I am at a place where I am pleased with my writing. It feels and reads stronger than ever. I’ve even gotten into the habit of teaching myself as I go along. This year, I took over more writing responsibilities in the shopping and saving money vertical. I’ve been reading up on what months you should buy everything and why and studying the savings catalogs from warehouse clubs to pitch and write content. I even apply this level of research to writing about cars as a person who doesn’t drive. Since I don’t shop very much, I like the humor found in a non-shopper dishing up recommendations each month on the best clothes, appliances, and bulk food to buy.

I feel challenged by what I write about, fulfilled by the end product, empowered to make decisions I think will take the content into the best direction, and humbled by how many people tell me they love and follow my writing.

My work has given me the confidence to live the life of my dreams and not consider the bottom falling out. There is no more bottom at this stage. I’m running up against 10,000+ hours of my craft in action. I believe everything will work because I see it work every single day.

When I’m off Xanax, I feel different now than I used to on the nights I would take the pills. My days don’t feel like the words I used to mention them anymore. The light isn’t sharp. It’s soft. Blue creeps into the sky each morning. I keep my window blinds open at night so the morning sunlight can wake me up every day. There’s not really aggression in the air like there is people trying to stir themselves awake however they can. The days feel like my to-do list of work items. A reminder of life and seasons all around me. Every day feels less like some kind of muted hangover and more like a quiet celebration. I lost the pretty pink haze. I gained dusty blue hues.

My watershed moment happened July 9. That was a Sunday, the one night of the week dedicated to taking my pills. I chose not to do it.

I had more than enough reasons why I could have done it ahead of the next day. I had three articles due, a meeting to attend, an inbox to tackle, and projects and assignments to address for the sponsorship.

All of this happens, quite literally, every single day at my job. I thought about the worst that could happen. The worst thing would be my absence. If I didn’t show up. If I didn’t do my part. There was no other worst thing to anticipate. When I thought of it like this, I realized I would be fine. I took the melatonin instead.

The next week I referred to the melatonin again. Then it became two weeks, three weeks, and a month. Then two months, three months, and even more months since I took any benzos. Your great big achievements often happen when you’re not looking directly at them.

I’d end that sentence with an exclamation mark except I can’t yet. There’s a “still” component in this work. The weaning is still ongoing.

The side effects are still around. I still have nights where I can’t sleep well. I don’t think this approach to weaning means I’ll have it all figured out by the end of this year. It will take some more time yet to get me back to where I think I once was.

I feel like I’ve beaten past the worst of it. I don’t ache for Xanax anymore. I don’t think about it. I don’t miss it.

I do acknowledge it. I took those pills for a long time so it would be strange to act like it never happened especially since there was a time when they really did help me deal with a lot of stressors. I taught myself how to let the behavior go. Letting go felt impossible in February. It felt scary (what do I do without it?) and humiliating (how did I allow myself to develop this kind of dependency?) and hard (another Rome to build). It’s amazing how possible a good habit can become with the passing of time and commitment.

I think about the silence of this summer and the quiet of this year. Outside of this blog post, and I was reluctant to write it, there is almost no one to tell or share progress. It’s not the thing you show and tell. I am my own accountability partner. I like to think I have been doing a good job, even though getting hype about not taking prescription meds anymore is not the thing you think you’re going to be doing at this age, at this juncture of life.

Then again, what am I supposed to be doing right now?

On the surface, I do know what I should be doing now. My writing talks about it every day. I should be swiftly approaching various milestones like finding my soulmate and getting married, having a child, buying a car (and uh, getting a license!), and buying a home.

The lack of traditional milestones I have under my belt used to distress me. These days though, I am not particularly afraid or worried about whether I’ll ever reach these milestones. I have other priorities.

This month, I have gotten back to one of my oldest loves again. Reading books.

It’s embarrassing for me to admit how much I read now is so... little. It’s a miracle if I read an entire book in a year. I had a laundry list of excuses for why I don’t read. The list starts with the expired library card belonging to a library in a city I no longer live in. It ends with my proclivity to clean in my spare time or bed rot after writing all week to recharge the creative batteries.

I keep reflecting on how adulthood is the place where you resurrect your love for everything you liked as a kid and it meets you tenfold. I loved books when I was younger. Loved to read and had a great time doing it.

My previous library card expired during the pandemic. A few weeks ago, I went to the Sherman Oaks Library and got a library card there. This was something I had been putting off since moving to the area. I still sometimes buy books, though many books I wind up buying often turn out not to be particularly good. Trendy and not worth a second read.

For all the time I had been out of the reading game, I kept a running list of books I wanted to read. I put them into the notes app on my phone and I saved a list in the Barnes and Noble wishlist. I decided to check out two books at a time from this list. Two is manageable. Two is a reasonable amount to read with as many hours I work a week. In a previous life, I would leave the library with a stack of books rivaling my height.

Advertising Week, my long-time freelance gig, is moving its site properties to the company which owns it. This kind of in-flux movement never happens. I’ll get to write again in January 2024. For the first time in seven years, I am not freelancing in the final weeks of the year. As much as I enjoy AW, it feels freeing to not be spending every waking hour attached to the keyboard.

My spare time has been spent back in the company of books. Reading again makes me feel like I never took such a long pause.

When I read fiction, I feel like I’m on the run. I’m galloping through the pages, engrossed in the lives of all these people who will never exist (can never exist) and getting invested in their full pockets of the world and the dramas of their lives. I want to shake some of the characters for making stupid decisions, I tear up when they grieve for losses, and I roll my eyes at some of the verbs writers overuse. (Everyone is always taking “swigs” of drinks. Swigs of water, swigs of wine, swiggy swig swigs. It’s obnoxious and amusing at once. Bring back the gulp!) I’ve always considered books to be the last frontier of non-algorithm restricted content. It’s heartening to see nothing has changed.

On that note, my mind has been more lively than ever these days thinking up little story ideas and tucking them away. Short stories, fiction, SNL sketches, etc.

My internal story machine is letting its wacky flag fly. I like to write down the weird ideas that make me smile or laugh a little. Last weekend, I had an idea for a short story about a grown woman who is trying to shed her embarrassing youthful image of winning the Guinness World Record for the longest amount of time spent throwing up on an airplane. I called it “Barf Face.”

The weird stuff is what I think people remember about me. I took a screenwriting class in college. In one of my scripts, a character ends up in a back brace after falling out of a hayride. In high school, I wrote a short story about a woman getting knocked out by a falling shelf of frozen pizzas and dying in the freezer aisle of the grocery store.

I do like to find the humor in the absurdity of life. Often, and especially now more than ever, there is a great need to present oneself as aesthetically pleasing and universally enjoyable to everyone. I think of it as making yourself into McDonald’s. It’s all carefully executed and distressingly, demands some conformity to what the majority likes so many people will blindly like your content. Humans are not supposed to be Big Macs.

Real life reminds me of that one time from when I was little. I had a brand new sparkling pink coat. I wore it out on a winter day in late February when the snow was melting and beamed with pride as I waited for the light to change at the crosswalk. Then a bus drove past me and covered the coat in brown sludge. I was horrified. It was real. It was life!

That’s not to say I’m always thinking about weird shit upstairs. I’ve got stories with a lot of heart and soul. Most are on the topic of friendship which I feel never gets discussed on the same level as romantic love. I keep those ideas a little closer to me. I am less likely to talk about them out loud because I care about them. They do exist though and they flutter around and around.

At the tail end of this year, I was writing a few pieces about money-themed New Year’s resolutions. All the ones that don’t work tend to have a few things in common. They’re often pretty vague, resolutions like saving more money or eating out less.

What works is a resolution where you go in with a plan and have set steps you’re willing to follow to reach said resolution.

I thought about this in the context of some of my former New Year’s resolutions. These were all pretty half-baked endeavors: resolutions made the same way I made a birthday wish. Wishes and resolutions for incredibly vague, general wants and desires. To get straight As, to fall in love, to meet the perfect guy, etc.

In a book I’m currently reading, one of the characters talks about how she imagined wanting someone else’s life instead of doing the work of imagining her own life. When I read that sentence, I felt my brain buzz, my heart quicken its beating, and my gut resolutely look over, raise its proverbial sunglasses, and nod once. Yep. This was a quote I needed to write down everywhere there is a surface in my apartment.

What made my plan to wean myself off Xanax successful was the timeline my doctor set to reduce the dosage and my own determination to beat the odds and reduce it even further. I had not known it was a thing I’d be doing at this age because if I looked at the lives of the people I envy (and there are many) it does not exist there (probably not!). But it did exist in my own life and because it did, I needed to make the changes accordingly.

As we head into 2024, I do have a resolution for the coming year. It is something I started the day after Christmas this year — and hopefully, I get the chance to proudly talk about it by the end of next year. Everything is laid out in a series of steps so I feel confident it’s a goal I can reach. That makes me excited!

I have a lot of gratitude for this year. I experienced massive professional and personal growth, ended a habit which was difficult to let go of, and feel like, as always, the best is still yet to come.

#personal #new year

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 29 - ao3 -

“In the future, you should send your children to the Cloud Recesses for me to teach,” Lan Qiren said. He was sitting with Wen Ruohan on one of the rooftop gardens in the Nightless City, watching the moon and stars from a pavilion placed there for that purpose; their bodies were pressed close together, and it felt as if they were far away from all the things that were familiar. “You and Lao Nie both, and naturally I’ll come visit with you often as well, bringing my nephew. Between the three of us, we might even be able to teach them how to be proper human beings.”

Wen Ruohan laughed in his ear and pressed his lips to his cheek – he had taken to kissing him at random, spontaneous, as if still overwhelmed by the fact that he now had the right to do it.

“I will,” he promised. “I agree, I think they’ll turn out better that way…you would really have me educate your precious little A-Huan?”

“If I’m willing to entrust myself with you, why not him? Anyway, I can teach him music, and with the aid of the other teachers in my sect the sword in the Lan sect style, but you can teach him much more than that. You know how to look at the world and see it for what it is, and then bend it to your will, make it sing to your tune. He’ll be sect leader in the future; he needs to learn that, and you can teach it to him.”

“I can, and I will,” Wen Ruohan said, then thought for a moment and asked, “What does Lao Nie bring to the table?”

“Flexibility, mostly.”

Wen Ruohan barked out a laugh. “He certainly has that.”

He didn’t even sound bitter about it any more.

Lan Qiren smiled.

“In the meantime, I will handle the rest of it,” Wen Ruohan added, and Lan Qiren looked at him in silent question. “Come now, Qiren. Did you really think that I would allow you to remain caged in the Cloud Recesses your whole life?”

Lan Qiren paused. That was the sorest part of his heart, his most painful misery, but he didn’t think Wen Ruohan would bring it up casually. If anything, he was a bit more afraid of what Wen Ruohan might get into his head to do about it – there was very little Wen Ruohan wouldn’t dare.

“Da-ge –” he started warily.

“No, no,” Wen Ruohan said, lightly scolding. “Little Lan, be serious! I already rejected the opportunity to cage you here at the Nightless City, playing only for me, despite how much I longed to do so. I refused to do it – me, refusing myself – because I knew it would only make you sad. Do you really think I would allow other people a privilege that I have denied myself?”

Lan Qiren did not laugh, but he dearly wanted to. It might be the first time he’d ever wanted to laugh about his situation – not even Cangse Sanren had managed that. “Has anyone told you that you are extremely self-absorbed?” he asked instead. “Arrogance is forbidden. Do not be haughty and complacent.”

Wen Ruohan smirked back at him. “All true, little Lan, but don’t forget your favorite: Do not tell lies.”

Self-absorbed, narcissistic and arrogant, Lan Qiren concluded, and there was no helping it. It was clearly a terminal case.

He used his sleeve to hide his laughter.

“What are you planning, exactly?” he asked once he had recovered. “If you harm my sect, whether directly or indirectly by denying them my services, I would be even more upset than if you tried to lock me away in here.”

Wen Ruohan waved a hand dismissively. “Do you think me so incapable? I have already begun making arrangements. Discussion conferences may only be once or twice a year, being as they are tremendously irritating to arrange, but there’s no reason that we of the Great Sects should not recognize our greater duty towards the smaller sects, and not to mention our obligations to protect the mortal world –”

“You know that it exists, then?”

Wen Ruohan ignored him. “The resources of cultivation clans are limited, and the world large. There are many places which would benefit from aid that do not see any simply because they are far away or tucked in inconvenient places, and no sect lives nearby – naturally, it is our duty to fight evil no matter where it is encountered. Lao Nie has already agreed that it is critical that the sect leaders demonstrate our sincerity by fulfilling this duty in person, leading by example.”

Lan Qiren’s heart had already felt as if it were overflowing with warmth, and it felt even more so now, almost squeezed to pain by how much joy was there. More than he had known he could contain.

Bad luck in brothers, he thought to himself - but oh, he had such good luck in friends!

“I see,” he said, thankful that his usual neutral tone concealed how happy he felt. “And naturally, where you and Lao Nie go, Sect Leader Jin cannot be far behind in his eagerness not to lose out, and where three of the five Great Sects lead, naturally the rest cannot be far behind. So I, too, will be obligated to...what? Go out on night-hunts in inconvenient places?”

“The world is too large, and the number of cultivators too few – and at any rate, there’s no point in setting up a full night-hunt which draws in every person from a thousand li for a few paltry fierce corpses or a ghost or two. I propose, instead, that we would send cultivators out alone, in pairs or in small groups, to wander for a few months through the remote places in the world and clean them up. Then, at the next discussion conference, the Great Sects could jointly agree that whoever was most enterprising would receive a reward, and naturally, stories of various exploits could be exchanged – ”

“Ah. Another reason for young men and women to gather and boast of improbable exploits.”

“Think of it as giving them more opportunities to win glory,” Wen Ruohan said. “And stop talking down about ‘young men’; you are a young man. Naturally you are also qualified to go out to do such things. Required, even: if our Great Sects do not set a proper example, who will?”

“Mm. A proper example. Even if I coincidentally happen to spend more time playing music than hunting demons?”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes were bright. “Even so. And naturally, you could always bring along someone more powerful to do the demon-hunting for you…”

“How convenient.”

Wen Ruohan smirked. “Do you doubt that I will be able to make it happen, little Lan?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said, then added, honestly: “I think you could take over the world if you wished.”

“Naturally! But it would be quite irritating, I think, if I had to also ensure that both you and Lao Nie did not disapprove of my methods…” He paused, lips twitching. “By coincidence, while we’re discussing convenience, I was thinking that it would be dangerous to send all those wild and reckless young men out there without proper support. Surely it would be only reasonable to set up a few convenient places here and there, not so far away, to provide them with supplies and a place to rest and recover –”

Convenient places that would fly the Wen sect’s flag and spread its influence, Lan Qiren presumed. Lanling Jin would be furious – using wealth to buy influence was their favorite technique, and they resented other people copying it – and would immediately insist on establishing their own set of “supply stations”, and then the rest of them would have to catch up and make their own. Yet another expense, and the Great Sects would need to do more than most; it would probably wreck havoc with the Lan sect’s annual budget.

On the other hand, well the remote parts of the world really did need the help. One of the Lan sect’s newly recruited guest disciples had been talking about a place not far from his hometown that specialized in making coffin goods; it was, according to him, the most inauspicious place that could possibly be imagined…

Not a place anyone might want to go, unless they truly were intent on traveling.

Lan Qiren smiled once again. He thought he might never stop smiling.

“Indeed,” he said, trying to sound dry and rational. “Very coincidental. No one will doubt that this is nothing but a scheme to expand your reach and power, rather than any personal motive.”

Wen Ruohan did not answer, but instead, matching a smile of his own to Lan Qiren’s, pressed his lips against Lan Qiren’s once more.

After a little while of silence, Lan Qiren cleared his throat and asked, “Do you intend to tell people?”

He was not referring to Wen Ruohan’s plans for the future.

Wen Ruohan understood.

“In time,” he said. “As much as I would love to shout that you are mine and I am yours from the rooftops and perhaps have bulletins be posted to every town -”

Lan Qiren grimaced. It would be one thing if he thought Wen Ruohan was exaggerating for romantic effect, but unfortunately it would be just like him to engage in that level of over-the-top grandstanding.

“– but your position is not yet certain, and my reputation is too questionable. People would make assumptions and spread malicious gossip, and I – I would not harm you to please myself.”

“Sweet-talker.”

“It’s not sweet-talking when it’s true,” Wen Ruohan protested, although he was chuckling. “When you are more renowned as a teacher than a sect leader, when little A-Huan is old enough to have passed the worst stretches of childhood – then we will announce it, and let the rest of the world choke on it if they like. You, me, Lao Nie…hmm. Jin Guangshan will probably think we’re concealing a conspiracy and ask to join in.”

Lan Qiren gagged. “I refuse,” he said. “I don’t care if I’m not physically involved, neither you nor Lao Nie are allowed to even think about it. That man has visited so many prostitutes that one might be forgiven for thinking he believes that the road to immortality is paved with venereal disease.”

“…thank you, that was an image I did not require.” A pause. “Jiang Fengmian –”

“Remember when he punched me in the face in a fight over a girl I didn’t even want?”

“It wasn’t a serious suggestion.” Wen Ruohan chuckled once more and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “Some years ago now, I swore to your Cangse Sanren that I would do right by you. I ought to invite her here and show her that I’ve made good on it.”

“You haven’t made good on it.”

“I haven’t?”

“No. Such a promise is fulfilled through the keeping – if you want to do right by me, there is no one singular moment that would qualify, but rather a continuing obligation.” Lan Qiren smiled up at him. “I’m sorry, da-ge. You’ll have to continue to do right by me for the rest of our lives.”

“I will,” Wen Ruohan said, and smiled back. “It would be my pleasure.”

-END-

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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allwaswell16 · 3 years

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This is a fic rec of One Direction fic writers who both appreciate positive, long comments and enjoy replying back to these comments! This was made in honor of an enthusiastic friend who had a few bad experiences commenting in our fandom and receiving less than kind replies. Instead of just fuming about it, I decided to do something about it. I knew that most writers would absolutely love to receive comments like the ones she leaves, so I made a post asking for writers who fit this to recommend their fics to us. And wow did you all come through for us!

Below the cut are 54 writers, each with one of their fics to recommend to us! But please be sure to check out all their other fics as well! I’ll put the fics in order of wordcount and I’ll list pairing, rating, and wordcount along with the summaries.

(Please note that there are really lovely writers out there who also very much appreciate each and every one of their comments, but are too overwhelmed or anxious to reply. I am not at all saying that writers who don’t reply are unappreciative!)

Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse / writing_practice [Louis/Harry, E, 162k]

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”

-----

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Hold You Now by @solvetheminourdreams [Louis/Harry, M, 131k]

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

forever is in your eyes by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same [Louis/Harry, M, 125k]

Harry looks fragile in the moonlight, and Louis stands there, pondering, not even sure what it is that he’s thinking of. It’s all just noise in his head, a mix of melancholy and desire, of longing for something that he doesn’t even have a name for.

He wants-

He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

His lips press against marble, against something cold and unforgiving, and it’s not until his hand comes up to rest against a sculpted neck that his eyes fly open and he stumbles backwards, nearly falling off the stepladder that he’d stood on.

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, shaking his head and resisting the urge to brush the back of his hand against his lips, erase evidence that isn’t even visible to the naked eye. Harry stands there, as though nothing’s changed, and of course he does, because he’s a statue.

A statue that Louis has just kissed.

don’t want to fight you by @lt2soon / starryharry [Louis/Harry, M, 124k]

Louis hates that it’s familiar. He hates that sparring Harry is familiar because they train together. He hates that he even has to spar Harry at all, because Harry is good.

Louis wonders what his life would be like if him and Harry didn’t hate each other. He can’t picture it, really. The incessant bickering that often turns into real arguing, the nasty looks, the eye rolls, the middle fingers. It all feels very necessary at this point.

Or, the one where two fighters can also be lovers because routines are never permanent.

Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo [Louis/Harry, E, 114k]

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

promise your whispers are mine by @lightwoodsmagic / lightswoodmagic [Louis/Harry, E, 94k]

"Where did I say it’s been easy for you, or,” he paused, staring at Harry’s lowered head and willing him to look up, “where have you ever gotten the idea that it’s been easy for me either?” When a few beats had passed and Louis was sure the conversation was done, Harry looked up, straight into Louis’ eyes like he was trying to physically pin him in place. “Our situations are completely different and you know it, please stop trying to - .” “Then let me help you fix it, Harry,” Louis interrupted, desperate to reach out and cover his hand with one of his own. “Let me help, please.”

Harry’s the head chef at Azoff’s Catering, and he loves his job; the opportunity has always been more than he could dream of and he’s proud of the food he creates. Until he meets Louis, an event coordinator rising through the ranks with his own company, and who reminds him of the dreams he once had for his own career. While their easy friendship initially thrives in an industry known for chaos and betrayal, they soon discover they both have their secrets, and maybe it’s too late for either of them to try to find happiness outside of their work. Especially when they realise that their happiness might rely on each other.

Playin’ It Safe and Breakin’ The Rules by @local-troubled-writer / local_troubled _writer [Louis/Harry, M, 90k]

In his life, Louis Tomlinson set out to do three things: find a way to make art that he loves, make his mum proud, and have as much fun as he could reasonably fit into one lifetime.

“Hello?” Harry’s deep voice calls.

“Hi,” Louis pops his head out of his doorway, motioning Harry back. “Louis,” he holds his hand out for Harry to shake and a small grin takes over the popstar’s face. He’s taller than he seems in photographs, but his smile is just the same as the ones that used to wallpaper his sisters’ walls.

“Harry.” He seems to have just gotten off stage, still sweating in a pair of skin-tight black jeans but a soft-looking blue vest. A beige headscarf holds his long curls off his face and he has all the easy confidence of a world-famous pop sensation, but still slouches in a way that isn't unfamiliar to Louis’ own posture.

“Yeah, I know who you are, popstar.” Louis teases, pulling his hand away and jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Shall we?”

or the One Where Maybe this Fake Relationship Gets a Little Too Real.

Consequences by @allwaswell16 [Louis/Harry, E, 78k]

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

The Sound The Leaves Make In The Heat Of The August Sun by @sleepwalk-living / anderscones [Louis/Harry, T, 76k]

Louis is an elf who lives in the Kingdom’s forest, as far away from the pompous Castle Court as he can get while staying within city limits. He’s a thief out of necessity and is happy enough to steal from the rich when they’re not looking. He notices something mysteriously dangerous happening in his forest one morning and begs for an investigation from the Court, who of course tells him he’s seeing things.

Intro a shamed knight, a runaway prince, a blacksmith, and a mage with fae blood who figure something is better than nothing. The King is all too happy to make criminals out of them and run them thinner than they already are just to prove a point to his son. With the combined powers of Captain Pla- One Direction, they figure it out.

adjudication by @bottomlinsons [Louis/Harry, T, 75k]

Harry's been engaged to Princess Charlotte of Ryde for as long as he can remember. He's come to know her, to love her, through the letters she's sent him over the past three years.

But when the wedding finally arrives, Harry quickly learns that nothing is as it seems. With his crown and country at stake, Harry must decide who to trust in this strange new land. And the sly Crown Prince of Ryde doesn't seem inclined to make things easy.

The Ground Below is Above My Feet by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche [Louis/Harry, E, 63k]

“-ouis, are you awake?”

“M’ff,” Louis manages. Slowly he remembers where he is. Who he is. His nerve endings take stock of his body, the soft sheets twisted around his legs and the warm rush of breath on his face. Harry.

“You were sleeping like the dead,” Harry muses, calloused fingers delicately brushing through Louis’ fringe. “Could barely tell if you were breathing.”

Louis' heart stutters, his throat working hard to swallow the lump of ugly truth. Blinks until Harry’s bright eyes come into focus across the pillow.

He holds back the obvious joke.

Plant New Seeds in the Melody by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers [Harry/Louis, E, 58k]

After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of.

Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening.

But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

Live a Thousand Lifetimes by @laynefaire / Layne Faire [Zayn/Liam, E, 57k]

It’s 2025.

After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour.

With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.

just a flicker in the dark by @falsegoodnight [Harry/Louis, E, 57k]

Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.

Or, Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.

I'm On the Hunt Now (I'm After You) by @afangirlfantasy [Louis/Harry, M, 56k]

Omegas haven’t been able to shift into their wolves for two hundred years. That is, until Louis Tomlinson changes everything.

Or...an AU where Alpha Harry and Omega Louis have a lot more than falling in love to deal with after The Mating Ceremony.

That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright / yeah_alright [Louis/Harry, T, 50k]

Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.

It feels different.

A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.

Baby, Won’t You Look My Way? by @peachbootylouis / PeachBootyLou [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]

Louis tiptoed to the door and opened it, looking over his shoulder for a moment. Harry looked absolutely gorgeous, almost enough to make him strip back down and give it another go. But that wasn’t who Louis was. So he sighed and stepped outside, leaving back to his flat. And for the first time in years, he felt alive.

Or the where Louis’ routine centered life runs like clockwork until a chance hook up throws a wrench named Harry into it all. But as it may turn out a change in plans could be what Louis has needed all along.

dirty laundry looks good on you by @tomlinvelvetfics / tomlinvelvet [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]

When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).

OR; the utility room is a great place to fall in love.

Passing By by @larryyouknow / Larry_you_know [Louis/Harry, E, 48k]

Sometimes, people are in each other's lives just for the briefest of moments. They meet and then go their separate ways because being vulnerable is scary and it might be easier to not let anybody else in. But some people aren’t meant to be just passing by. Maybe when they open their eyes, they can learn things about themselves they haven’t known before. If they let their hearts speak they will find a way to be together.

Or the one where Harry doesn't even know he's into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There's something more to their friendship but it ain't gonna be smooth sailing.

i kiss you (across hundreds of separating years) by @milkcurls / loveroflou [Louis/Harry, M, 44k]

He reminds Louis of the day he met him, the first day of Harry’s first year and Louis’ second, when he stood on wobbly legs beside Zayn, his cheeks flushed and hair parted to the side and tucked neatly behind his ear. He’s all dainty and soft – he’s pretty, Louis can admit that.

He’s also a rich frat boy who fucks every omega that will throw themselves at him – and they all do – so instead of pretending to be a precious little doll Louis thinks he should spend more time learning how to be a decent human being.

or, the stars and two amused boys are playing cupid, and there are one too many coded love letters and a duck plushie that smells like home

don’t want no other shade of blue by @louisisworthit / padfootyoudog [Louis/Harry, E, 43k]

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.

“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”

“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

A Thousand More by @travelingwinchester / Ot5aresoulmates [Louis/Harry, NR, 42k]

Harry wakes up one morning during the separation of April 2015 missing Louis fiercely. He wonders if they had never been on the X-Factor would they have met. Cue the weirdest "dream" he's ever had in which lessons about the course of true love are learned.

fondre ton absence by @scrunchyharry [Louis/Harry, T, 41k]

Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him.

It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life.

When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died.

Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in.

He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?

I’ve Been Hoping You’d Be Somewhere Better Than This by @runaway-train-works / runaway _train [Harry/Louis, E, 40k]

“Does she know who it is then, from the New York office?” Louis enquires.

“Yeah, some guy Henry? Henry Styles I think she said?"

“Harry.”

“What?"

“Harry. His name is Harry Styles.” His heart sank. Louis hadn’t met him, they had only shared a couple of emails back and forth, but he knew exactly who he was. And Harry hadn’t just been killing it in the Big Apple, he’s been ripping the place to absolute shreds, nailing some of the most lucrative accounts in the business.

Louis is so fucked.

The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way.

Without you it’s a season I ain’t needing by @whatevertearsyou / perfectdagger [Louis/Harry, M, 38k]

Spring was everything in '17, now I'm just cold Summer fell to fall after all November froze Without you it's a season I ain't needing, I want to go come back home The reds and all the greens don't mean a thing when you're gone Winter means nothing to me now without you.

A long distance relationship au in which Harry is away for a year and Louis is left to pick up the pieces.

take my hand, wreck my plans by @daggerandrose / amomentoflove [Harry/Louis, T, 38k,]

Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.

“Mr. H,” he whispers.

The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”

“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”

“Dance?”

Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”

Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

I Wish, I Found Love by @slytherinzouis / friendofhayley [Louis/Harry, E, 37k]

A fandom retelling of the Maiden Without Hands.

Solace is a land of religious hypocrisy, demons, and two ostracized families. When prophets from every denomination foretell a boy of unknown origin who might change the tide of the magical world, is any place safe for him?

Harry and Louis grew up together, two pariahs among their peers. Will their love be able to overcome distance, prophecies, and the trials of finding out who you truly become under pressure?

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by @lululawrence [Harry/Louis, NR, 36k]

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly.

There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere.

Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing.

Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined.

Your Wonder Under Summer Skies by @emilee1421 / Emilee_1421 [Louis/Harry, NR, 34+, wip]

Needing an escape after a particularly hectic year, Louis decides to join Harry in Italy where Harry is working on his next Gucci campaign. While in Italy the two decide to join an old friend at her county home to enjoy a much deserved break from their usually busy lives. Louis and Harry begin to see their friend in a different light and all three are forced to confront the possibility that their friendship may actually be something much deeper.

Work of Magic by @justalarryblog / Bekita [Louis/Harry, NR, 34k]

"C’mon Liam, are you really going to use this against me now? You know the kind of humans his kind is! You know very well why we hunt them!" Louis said, done with the conversation and walking down the hall.

"No! We hunt people who don’t care about others, and neither Harry nor anyone in his family is like that!” Liam exasperated, following behind. “Louis, it's been two weeks, don’t you wanna know how Harry is? Has this hatred taken over so fast?" Liam inquired, knowing the hit a nerve.

"You know what, Liam? I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Louis said decisively, turning his back to his friend ready to go to his class.

But life is never fair, is it? When he turned around he was face to face with Harry in the middle of the hallway. The two stared at each other. Do I hate him? Louis wondered as he watched Harry's eyes fill with tears and seem to be begging for something. He preferred to ignore the pang in his chest and the urge to comfort the boy in front of him. He lowered his head and continued on his way.

Or the one that Louis is a WitchHunter and Harry is a Witch and they keep it as a secret, but they fall in love.

Swear I’ve Known You Since Forever by @louinlavender / abaddxns [Louis/Harry, T, 33k]

Harry then pats around his trouser pockets only to remember that Gemma has his phone in her bag so he can’t even call her, and he’s far too intimidated to ask a stranger if he can borrow theirs. She has his wallet, too, so all he has on his person are the stick of gum in his back pocket and his muddy wellies and a too-long scarf he’s ready to ball up and throw the ground, because he’s only sixteen and he’s just a shopboy in a bakery and he’s about to cry twenty minutes into his first music festival that he had to beg to attend, all because he lost his big sister and her uni friends, who didn’t even want him to come in the first place, and—

“Oi, y’alright, mate?” a bright voice asks, just as his eyes start to water.

Or: Harry attends his first music festival and promptly gets lost. Little does he know that the first friendly face he encounters is bound to change his life forever.

Part one of three of 'And The Sun Came Out'—a series detailing the growth of Harry and Louis' relationship through the years after meeting at Leeds Fest as teenagers.

i’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by @tomlinbuns / pixies [Louis/Harry, E, 26k]

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

Dear Diary (series) by @alwayslarry-vol28 / kikiberosski16 [Louis/Harry, E, 20k]

Life in quarantine is hard, especially if you're an arrogant son of a bitch and your husband is a stubborn little shit. Harry and Louis argue a lot, so much it affects their daily routines. Harry tries to write his feelings down in a diary, but will this cause more trouble for the couple?

The Golden Prince by @behappyhl [Harry/Louis, E, 19k]

When He arrives in London, he’s speechless.

It’s so different from his little hometown, he can’t help the feeling that it is an unknown planet. Everything is bigger; The streets, the buildings, the stores. The people are always running somewhere, always in a hurry. Harry instantly feels out of place.

Or, Harry lives a perfectly normal life until he gets a life changing job opportunity.

The Boy with the Tin Chest and a Glass Heart by @louloubabys1992 / louloubaby92 [Louis/Harry, M, 17k]

Alpha Harry Styles, world-renowned author of fairy-tales, is being persuaded by the Beta, Liam Payne to hire a new illustrator. Since Harry’s own illustrations are too graphic for what is supposed to be children’s stories, Liam feels the need is dire. Omega Louis does not agree with Liam since he believes that Harry’s stories are fine just the way they are. Of course this has nothing to do with Louis being totally biased or totally head over heels for Harry. It certainly has nothing to do with being jealous of the mysterious omega illustrator Liam has in mind to team Harry up with. Seriously, it has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing, absolutely nothing, zilch, nada. Yeah...

Sweet Heart by @bluecolouredlou [Niall/Louis, G, 16k]

Designing clothes, not falling in love.

That was what Niall had in mind when he first met up with Louis. He couldn't be falling in love with the other omega. Not while work as one of the few omegas at the company was getting more stressful. Not when he was supposed to find an alpha and settle down.

just one look (and i fell so hard) by @disgruntledkittenface [Harry/Louis, M, 15k]

Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–”

“Do you want to come up?”

The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip.

“Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…”

“Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis.

“Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.

wasting my time when it was always you by @hometothecanyonmoon / sunflower_lwt [Harry/Louis, T, 15k+, wip]

A "Married To The Maverick Millionaire" AU. Louis is the captain of Manchester United, Harry's the heir of the richest charity organization in the country as well as his best friend and they have to fake being married to save both of them from impending doom.

Sounds like love to me by @neondiamond [Louis/Harry, G, 14k]

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

Louis watches as Harry’s face falls with the realization that this is one of those things he won’t be able to experience. For a second, Louis considers saying no, to show Harry they’re truly on the same boat through all of this. But he nods in the end, reaching over for Harry’s hand as the doctor flips a switch. Noise fills the room then, and it takes a few seconds for the sound to become clear enough for Louis to make out the baby’s fast heartbeat.

“It’s really fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud as he uses his thumb to tap against the back of Harry’s hand, replicating the rapid rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat. It takes the younger man a little while to figure out what Louis’ doing, but a huge grin breaks out on his face as soon as he does.

“Is that them?” He signs with the other hand, his own eyes starting to tear up when Louis nods.

OR: Harry is deaf, Louis is pregnant. They figure it out.

The Prince and the Youtuber by @haztobegood [Louis/Harry, E, 12k]

The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.

One Way Road To Something Better by @femstyles [Harry/Louis, T, 12k]

Four years ago when Louis and Harry moved in together, Louis promised Anne that he’d take care of Harry no matter what. But things don’t always go as planned, and sometimes risky choices have to be made.

Inspired by Don't Let It Break Your Heart

stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain [Harry/Louis, E, 12k]

Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

my solitude ain’t the same no more by @dryourtearsaway / louisnights [Harry/Louis, M, 10k]

Louis is a traveling homicide detective who goes to the small town of Holmes Chapel to investigate the murder of a young woman.

somewhere only we know by @quelsentiment / wordsnnotes [Zayn/Louis, T, 9k]

Their eyes meet again, and the man suddenly frowns, asking: “Do we know each other?” Oh. So maybe that’s why Zayn is so intrigued with him. He’s always been pretty bad at remembering people’s faces, but there is some kind of vague familiarity to the man’s appearance. “Might help if you told me your name”, he points out. “Right. Sorry, I’m an idiot”, the man chuckles. “I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson.” And of course. With this voice, Zayn should have known. He’s actually surprised he didn’t recognize it right away. “Lou”, he says, his own voice caught in his throat. “It’s me, Zayn.” Or: Zayn and Louis grew up together, but haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Now they're both in their twenties and meet again on a flight from LA to London, with ten hours in front of them to catch up, and maybe start something new.

I'm Asking You Please, Don't Talk Dirty to Me by @larry-hiatus / larry_hiatus [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]

Prompt #68: Harry’s best friend Louis is a nice, well-mannered omega, at least when it comes to sex talk. He has always been closed off and quiet... until Harry hears how Louis talks during his heat. Now, it's all Harry can think about before his upcoming rut... (Original prompt wording edited for clarity)

making me sweat by honey_beeing [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]

A not-exactly University AU where Harry and Louis meet at an orgy where the both of them don't intend to have sex at.

Twist the Knife by @snowjosh / jishler [Harry/Louis, E, 6k]

Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.

Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.

the stars are coming home by @harrystinyshorts / lsforever [Harry/Louis, G, 5k]

For years Harry has been waiting for their schedules to click just right. Finding a day where he’ll not only be available but also is the only visitor on the premises has been near impossible.

After three years together and nearly a full year of marriage, Harry has finally been permitted to sit in for one of the team’s practices. They get more than they bargained for.

My True Love Gave to Me by @ponymom-stuff / ponymom [Louis/Harry, NR, 5k]

After puzzling over a Christmas gift for Louis, Harry comes to what he believes is the ultimate gift for his true love.

Fistiana by @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld [Zayn/Louis, NR, 2k]

They met in the center of the ring and bumped their bare knuckles together.

Strawberries and Cigarettes by @hlhome28 / ThoseFookin_Avacados [Louis/Harry, T, 2k]

strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

"Need help there, love?" "Oh god, yes-" Harry turned around to look at the source of the voice and his heart dropped to his stomach as they caught each other's eyes.

Or on a very lonely valentines day, Harry's car breaks down in an unknown alleyway, where he bumps into a blue-eyed boy who takes him back seven years ago on the same day.

Safe Like Springtime by @beelou / cherrylarry [Louis/Harry, G, 1k]

On the way out of the park, Gabriel gasps suddenly and points across the grassy area. He starts running.

When Harry catches up to Gabe, - that boy runs fast - he's with a man and his dog and Gabe is petting the dog.

"Gabriel James. You know better than to run off like that! Did you ask to pet the dog?" Harry scolds.

"I'm sorry Uncle Harry. I saw a dog and I just wanted to see the fluffy dog! Look how fluffy!" Gabe exclaims.

Harry rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the dog owner. The very attractive dog owner.

Or, the one where Harry takes his nephew to the park and runs into Louis and his Labradoodle Clifford.

best hangover cure by @loulovehome [Louis/Harry, E, 1k]

"A wank will miraculously cure your hangover, honey."

Stay Till The A.M. by @flexible-racoon / goneforbooks [Harry/Louis, G, 1k]

It's 23rd July and Louis reminisces.

#fic rec #1dsource #tracksintheam #trackinghome #larry fan fic #let me know if any of the links are messed up #i've checked and double checked but who knows when its tumblr lol

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ladyeliot · 4 years

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Fragile [1/3]

Part Two

Based on The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Who would have thought that fate would bring you face to face with your father's killer? 13 years old, an orphan girl who was taken under the protection of the United States, who was educated to serve the nation and who was now assigned by the CIA to guard what was once one of the most dangerous men in the world.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, psychological problems, violence.

Word count: 2463

A/N: Post Endgame. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

You are waiting for a plane, a plane that will take you far away. You know where you want to go, where you need to go, but you really have no idea where that plane will take you. But it doesn't really matter now, nothing matters because you've lost everything, you have nothing left. Whatever fate throws at you you are willing to accept it, after all you leave nothing behind. That's what you told yourself when in 2009, at the age of thirteen, you boarded that plane that took you out of Iran, when your nuclear engineer father was brutally murdered by someone you could never put a name or a face to. It was not until much later that you discovered the truth of that moment that marked your life forever.

Call it fate, call it chance, but that plane paved your future path. Your destination was the United States, specifically the city of Washington. At the age of 13, when you were a minor, you were detained by the government, assigned to a foster family, preparing you for your future, which already seemed to be written. At 18, the CIA had your position waiting for you, you had been educated and trained for the job, you never had a different opportunity in front of you, but you didn't really want it either.

Your first years within the Central Intelligence Agency you had to learn and live with all the events that that group, called the Avengers, dropped on the nation and the whole world. However, you were not a part of it until it was all over, for like the vast majority of humanity your body vanished from the face of the earth and did not return until years later. That's when it all began. When your superior assigned you a case, his case, to be the shadow of James Buchanaham Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier, who was going to rejoin society after being pardoned by the government. You didn't know what that meant, what that entailed.

Your move to New York was sudden, the neighbourhood the man had selected to live in was in Sunset Park, a New York borough of Brooklyn, one of the best known ethnic Chinese enclaves. It was really nice, but the building was far less comfortable than the neighbourhood. When you arrived with barely any hot water, you figured that assuming the building looked like it might collapse at the drop of a hat, the plumbing would be no less so. But at least your CIA team had been able to provide you with comfortable furniture and the necessary equipment to do your job.

You had a plan, the plan, you had been analysing Bucky Barnes, his exits from the building, the places he frequented, which were pretty scarce apart from the therapy sessions and the restaurant across the street, and his social relations, which were even scarcer, however he had forged a small friendship with a neighbour in the same building, Yori Nakajima originally from Japan. You didn't have to work out your first meeting, any self-respecting neighbour would help a newcomer to the building during the move.

A dozen cardboard boxes were scattered around the hall of the building, you looked at them with a thoughtful gesture while biting your nails waiting for your dear neighbour to arrive from the laundry next door. You had kept track of the time, and just as you predicted, he came in through the front door with a basket of clean clothes. You continued to look at the boxes, took a breath and exaggerated your gesture of concern, just as he focused his gaze on you.

"Do you need help?" he asked, putting down the laundry basket and approaching you.

You turned your face, still biting your nails, but pretended to be surprised to find him there.

"Oh, don't worry, I only just realised that this building is so green it barely has a lift," you said with a smile, causing Bucky to grin.

"Yes, we like to do our bit for the environment," he said, putting his hand behind his head and then offering it to you in greeting. "Bucky."

"Susan," you smiled and shook his hand, then returned your gaze to the stacked boxes. Evidently that wasn't your real name, it was the name of the person you had invented yourself.

"Come on, let me help you," abandoning his laundry basket he approached your belongings and with barely a reproach he picked up two stacked boxes.

"Oh, God, don't you think you should...?" you began worriedly as you looked at the weight he had taken into his arms.

"Don't worry," he added. "Do you think you could take my clothes?"

That was how it all began. Maybe it could have started some other way, perhaps a chance encounter at the laundromat next door, or when you came out of your government-assigned therapy, or maybe a night at the Japanese restaurant, but no, it was that way. You had no idea how things were going to develop, you had no idea why you were assigned to the case, you were so innocent that you thought it was because of your positive attitude, your willingness to do something relevant, but there was too much hidden behind it that you had hardly a clue. You and that young man were connected, a blood-soaked red thread linked you, but it wasn't until some time later that you discovered it.

Before you knew it, the boxes had gone from being stacked in the hall of the building to being in your small living room. You barely had to feign the surprise you felt as the young man had climbed all four floors in record time.

"OK, who are you? You don't work for a moving company do you?" you laughed and headed towards the small kitchen that was connected to the living room. "If so leave me your card because you'll be the one I call."

"No, not really," he put his hand behind his neck and looked away, he seemed nervous as you tried to start a conversation with him.

"A beer? It's the least I can do," you said, opening the fridge. "Well, and it's the only thing I have apparently."

"Better another time," he commented looking at the basket of clean clothes you had left in the middle of your living room and approaching it to pick it up.

It was at that moment that you noticed the black leather gloves covering his hands, you guessed the fact, surely they were to cover his left hand which complemented his vibranium arm.

"Oh, of course," you closed the fridge the same way you had opened it and leaned against the kitchen island to watch him in the middle of the room with the laundry basket offering you an awkward smile. "Then it only remains for me to thank you again."

"It's been a pleasure," he said without moving from the spot, which made you bite your lip smiling at his awkwardness. "Uh... welcome."

"Thank you," you added, watching him clumsily walk out the door and close it behind him.

The image of Bucky Barnes you had formed in your mind collapsed as soon as you met him. Everything you had seen, read, heard about the man had nothing to do with what you found that morning. Who was this person and what had he done with the Winter Soldier? As soon as you closed the door you opened the box marked 'FRAGILE' and extracted all the archival material that the CIA had compiled for you, and opening your laptop you began to generate your first report on Bucky Barnes, totally contrary to what you had expected to do.

The following days you took it upon yourself to generate spontaneous encounters in the most common places the two of you might frequent. The laundromat or the supermarket were the best selected, you discovered that his lifestyle could be that of any ordinary New Yorker, there was nothing strange, nothing out of the ordinary. You had explained to him the story you had created for Susan, a young immigrant girl who had been adopted at the age of 5 by an American family and had left her small town in the state of Ohio to come to New York looking to live the New York dream. Bucky didn't really talk much, but he was a really good listener. He tended to be quite expressive with his face and as we met, it wasn't so often that he looked away from you, only when you stared at him, which was quite common as his blue eyes tended to evade you too much.

Two months later you received the desired psychological analysis that the therapist had been working on during her sessions with Bucky. Throughout your years of life you had been trained not to engage in any kind of emotional relationship with the cases you were assigned at the CIA, you didn't realise it at first, but it was too big for you. When you opened the envelope, sat down on the couch and began to read each of the reports you felt it, a slight sigh propitiated what was happening, you had felt compassion for him. But who couldn't feel compassion reading that? Session after session, talking about the numerous nightmares that kept him awake, endless lists of his victims he had killed, the tortures HYDRA put him through... it all made your insides churn.

You dropped the papers on the table and thoughtfully paced around the room biting your nails. You had been longing for a case like this for a long time, you had practically begged for it, and now that you were inside it you didn't know if you would be able to face it with a cool head. It was a difficult two weeks, where every conversation with Bucky provoked associations with what you read in the therapist's reports and that made you think too much about what you were doing.

But something happened, one Saturday like any other, your doorbell rang while you were preparing a report to send to your superior, you closed everything running and approached the entrance. As you opened the door the figure of Bucky stood in front of you, while behind him loomed the small body of Yori Nakajima.

"Hey..."

"Come on we don't have all day!" exclaimed Yori tapping Bucky's back with his particular cane.

"I'm coming..." chided Bucky turning his face towards his friend and neighbour.

"Come on!" exclaimed Yori again.

The situation was quite peculiar even for you, who were used to encountering all sorts of situations in your work. Your eyebrows were arched as you leaned against the doorframe waiting for what Bucky was supposed to say. Your two neighbours made a comical but endearing pair. Bucky seemed hesitant to speak, being rather nervous as he fiddled with his gloves, so Yori tapped him again with the cane to push him aside.

"What he wants to tell you is to go on a date with him," Yori said bluntly, to which Bucky exasperatedly sighed and put his hand to his face.

"A date?" you asked arching your eyebrows even more and blinking rapidly.

"Well, it's not exactly that..." began Bucky but again he received another blow from Yori's cane, "Hey! Stop it," he refocused his blue eyes on yours. "I'm sorry..."

"For what, needing help asking me out on a date?" you asked smiling slightly, causing him to do so as well. "Had you come up with any concrete plans or did Yori have to find it for you?"

Your question caused Yori to laugh and leave the place alluding that his work had already been done. You continued to watch Bucky with your arms crossed as you slumped against the door frame. The whole situation was getting too out of hand without you even realising it. You lied to yourself that it could be good for your mission, but none of it was good. At that moment you were just a young girl getting carried away, being asked out on a date by a guy you found really attractive.

"Maybe... tomorrow at eight o'clock? If not..." she asked, putting her hand behind her neck, causing her white t-shirt to ride up and reveal part of her naked lower body.

"Why tomorrow? Why not tonight?" you asked showing complete confidence in your voice.

"Or... sure, tonight," she rectified, nodding.

"All right," you said, smiling, and closed the door, leaving Bucky standing there.

In the back of your mind you were trying to convince yourself that this would be helpful to the investigation, that what the CIA really wanted was for you to maintain contact with him, that he was under your control, that he wouldn't do anything that the government would regret offering a pardon for, and apparently he was. What you didn't know is that it was you who was falling under his control.

Your love life is not what you could call it, you were not someone of long realizations, someone who opened her heart easily, you had never really opened it to anyone, apparently at the age of 13 your heart was broken and of that loving and shy girl there was hardly anything left. Relationships, yes, you had had them, but they were based only on physical contact, no feelings, no emotions, only physical contact. You were stubborn, obstinate and sometimes a little presumptuous, a trump card you played with Bucky, but the innocence was still inside you even if you could hardly notice it.

But believe it or not, those months you were spending in that practically ruined building in the middle of that Brooklyn neighbourhood were changing the course of your destiny, they were connecting you with the loving girl you had once been. Something inside you prevented you from writing reports providing the information the CIA was asking for, it seemed really absurd, but for the last two weeks you had offered details of the conversations you had with Bucky, you were just giving ordinary data, useless to the government, who expected you to relay everything the former Winter Soldier said or did. You would never have thought that anything, or anyone, would have limited your ability to tackle an investigation, but there it was, Bucky had done it in just a few months. You felt so empty, it was easy to connect with someone as empty as you, him.

To be continue...

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theparanormalperiodical · 2 years

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The Wicker Man (2006): Why It Should’ve Been A Video Game // Detailed Plot Recap, In-depth Review And Film Facts You Didn’t Know

This week, I wanted to try something *new*. Inspired by Jaime French who does these hilarious recap/bitch-fest videos ‘bout classic 90s ‘n’ 00s films, I thought I could do my own hilarious reviews of films. You know how hilarious I am.

But, I don’t know, I kinda felt like I was nicking her idea and not being ori-gi-nal. Then I remembered that a blog like this could solve a problem I face a lot with the horror genre: I don’t always like to watch horror films.

They’re a commitment. They scawy.

I don’t always want to force myself to watch a movie full of jump-scares and freak myself out, and other days I’m just not in the headspace to be immersed in some of the gory issues they cover. As you can imagine that makes being a horror blogger, uhhhh, well, impossible.

So here’s the plan, Stan - I’m gonna take one for the team. I’m going to write a fully-fledged recap, review and analysis of classic horror films so you don’t have to sit through the crap ones or hide behind the sofa for the traumatising ones, and we can just soak in our favourite genre together.

Now, when I first considered doing this blog series, I thought I’d review the last horror film I saw: The Wicker Man (1973). But I quickly realised it’s hard to really review something you last saw months ago - you need to connect with the vibe, pick up on mistakes and give a detailed view of it backed up by facts. So, obviously, I thought I’d catch it on Prime, right? While the ‘73 flick wasn’t available for free, the ‘06 one was.

Yes, one of the most infamous horror films ever produced featuring Nicolas Cage and a whole lotta bees, the poster child of so-bad-it’s-good movies.

In today’s review, I’m going to recap the plot, deep-dive the good and the bad of The Wicker Man (2006), and finish up with whether it’s worth a watch.

But first, let’s start with a spoiler-free review, so you can consider whether you want to watch it and then come back to this post.

While I don’t hate this film and think it had buckets of potential, I’m not sure it’s worth a film night with dimmed lights, surround sound and microwave popcorn. It’s a pretty un-engaging, gentle watch, even if you love Nicolas Cage and memes.

1.8/5 stars

youtube

Let’s start with a recap of the plot

Policeman Edward Malus (Nicolas Cage) is taking time off duty after he witnesses a mother and her daughter die in a traumatic car accident. He receives a letter from his ex-fiancée which says her daughter has gone missing where they live, on the remote island of Summersisle. He goes to investigate and has to hitch a ride for the final leg of the journey with a bloke that pilots a seaplane and delivers goods to the island.

Immediately Malus discovers this is a rural, Amish-like community full of locals not willing to help him find Rowan. No matter how much he flashes his badge or raises his voice to tell everyone he’s a police officer, they just tell him they’ve never-ever seen her before. Even the students at the school claim to not recognise her, but Malus finds her name crossed out on the school register. The teacher eventually lets slip that Rowan died and is buried in a churchyard. Or is she? She says “she’ll burn to death” before correcting the tense she used (“she burned to death”).

Malus stumbles across other clues outlining the causes and circumstances of Rowan’s disappearance, from a missing picture on the pub wall which shows a different local girl standing in front of the yearly harvest to a freshly dug grave. Convinced she’s been killed, he goes to the seaplane to radio the mainland for extra police support, but someone has murdered the pilot and sunk the plane.

He then asks the local doctor/photographer about the missing photo. He finds it, and there’s Rowan standing in front of a failed harvest. But he also stumbles across a book titled “Rituals for the Ancients” which suggests they’re about to sacrifice Rowan to the Mother Goddess for the promise of a better harvest (they produce honey) next year.

After accidentally getting stung by a shit-tonne of bees by the beehives which prompts an allergic reaction, he is saved by the local doctor and finally meets Sister Summersisle - the Earthly representative for the Mother Goddess. She denies him permission to exhume Rowan’s body and explains more about their beliefs and matriarchal society.

Frustrated by the lack of answers, Malus digs up the grave to find a burnt doll and finds her jumper in the flooded crypt. He then conducts a house-to-house search of the entire island as it’s the day of the festival and, therefore, the sacrifice.

After not finding Rowan, Malus sneaks into the festival disguised in the innkeeper’s bear costume where he rescues Rowan who is tied to a tree, ready to be burnt alive. Their attempt to escape to safety is cut short, however, when Rowan leads them back to the locals, revealing that all along this was a trap.

His ex-fiancée sought him out to impregnate her so they’d have a sacrifice, a stranger connected to them by blood. After some torture, including lots of bees, Malus is carted off to the huge Wicker Man where he will be burnt alive inside. Rowan sets the Wicker Man alight.

Six months later we see a new trap being set: in a bar in some US city, Malus’ ex-fiancee and another local start flirting with random men…

Some fun facts about the film

It’s a remake of the 1973 British film and was directly inspired by the 1967 novel Ritual (see gif below)

It just lost out on breaking even - it grossed $39m on a $40m budget

The original director of the 1973 film, Robin Hardy, made Warner Bros remove his name from all promotional material for the remake

It has just a 15% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes

Universal had been trying to remake The Wicker Man since the 90s, but it was finally announced in 2002

Now, let’s get to talkin’ bout it

Of course, I have to start with Nicolas Cage’s acting. Speaking honestly, I don’t want to sit here and criticise his craft - I’d be shite at acting, and it’s not like he’s an unsuccessful bloke. But the problem isn’t the over-acting. It’s the plain weird acting.

Throughout the film, Malus witnesses a seriously traumatic event - a car accident where the two passengers are burnt alive - and suffers from PTSD-symptoms as a result. Like in one dream he sees Rowan drowned just by the dock and then he’s holding the bloated corpse of a young girl. Waking with a start, he doesn’t, ya know, have a panic attack, or exhibit a normal amount of terror of anxiety.

He yells “God dammit!” like he just missed a bus.

And then, throughout he film, the way he speaks to people is plain odd. The rest of the cast are fine actors, and speak with those nuances and the tone of a cinematic film. He acts like a normal person would where everyone else is poetic and dramatic. It’s like me wandering into a Shakespeare play and asking Macbeth where the local pub is in modern British-English.

A great example of this is when he meets with Sister Summersisle for the first time after getting stung by the local bees. She speaks in that cinematic way, saying “you nearly got killed by the bees, what a pity”. There’s the suggestion that it’s either a pity the bees died or he nearly did. And then Cage straight up retorts with “what do you mean by that?” with no dramatic furrow of the brow or threatening tone in his voice. He might as well be asking her what the word “pity” means.

Cage is a sore thumb in the film, sticking out against the picture-perfect aesthetic, his complex ex-fiancee and powerful Sister Summersisle.

This is made worse by the fact that the beginning of the film feels cheap. Of course, with Summersisle being full of lush greenery, cute houses and fantastic costuming, it’s likely they just splurged on the majority of the film. But the opening, where we meet Malus, relies on that ASOS leather jacket, a does-this-look-like-Mexico orange filter you can get with iMovie and a flimsy set. When Malus shuts his front door behind his concerned colleague, for example, he has to like shut it again, probably because it’s made out of paper-mache.

It unfortunately sets the tone for the rest of the film, confirming it’s crappily written, crappily produced and crappily executed. Problem is, it’s not. This film is chockful of great stuff.

Take the ending:

Watching Malus be lead back to the locals by Rowan. Hearing Sister Summersisle reveal the extent of the trap. His ex telling him he’s “done so well” to fall into it. Him realising has no ammo in his gun and nowhere left to run (hey, that rhymes!). It’s so frustrating, and really conveys exactly what Malus must’ve been feeling the entire film and as he realises he is doomed to die - it’s perfect!

And when I saw the policewoman remove her mask and reveal she was a local all along I died. This fresh take of the original plot had so much potential.

Potential that was let down also by some very obvious plot lines. It’s revealed halfway through the film that Rowan is Malus’ daughter, but as this is what everyone assumes when he reads the letter it’s not exactly a shock. I know the entire plot is obvious considering the twist is so well known, so perhaps I should give them the benefit of the doubt. But then there’s the plot holes.

Remember the car accident that opens the film? Where he sees a girl and her mother die? On reflection, it’s probably just supposed to be some foreshadowing to get us thinking about him trying to save a mother and daughter from danger. But when the police recover the bodies, it’s revealed there’s no trace of them in the system, which suggests they’re somehow linked to the rest of the film, like they’re residents of Summersisle or something? I don’t know, it just opens up an area of interest you expect to be resolved in the film. I’d have preferred it there was no uncertainty, and they were just an average suburban family off on vacay to really show the distinction between the mainland US and Summersisle.

It becomes clear the locals of Summersisle are dangerous and are misandrists (hate men) when the seaplane pilot that delivers good to the island is killed. Supposedly the locals do this because they’re angry he brought Malus to the island to investigate Rowan’s disappearance. But wasn’t that the plan all along? Wasn’t the pilot integral to the trap? And then later, when it’s revealed the locals routinely seek out men to as future potential sacrifices if harvests go tits up (I assume that’s how it works), wouldn’t they need him to bring ‘em to the island?

There’s also the issue of the quality gap between the opening and close of the film. Okay, fine, most films have different phases and vibes as the plot progresses. But the three distinct sections of this film aren’t to do with the plot. The beginning is cheap. The middle is slow. The ending is mental.

Despite my lengthy criticism and positive reflections on the film, I drew one final conclusion: it should’ve been a video game.

It just had that vibe and structure of a story-driven video game, like a prettier version of Silent Hill with fewer jumpscares and a thicker plot.

There’s the unique locations to explore, like the school and doctor’s house. There’s missing items to find, like the photograph of Rowan and the failed harvest. There’s fresh clues to stumble upon like the jumper and the grave. There’s a whole roster of potential NPC dialogue, like the ex-fiancee perhaps telling you “you should go check the crypt” over and over until he does it. There’s even the subtle throwbacks to the original film, like the seaplane (which the policeman of the ‘73 film flew). All tied together with cut scenes where you meets your ex-fiancee and ask her about what you’ve discovered to further the story.

Will you make the right decisions and get the good ending, where you prevent the murder of the seaplane pilot, carry Rowan to the harbour and fly off to safety? Will you find all the easter eggs, including the joker costume and the dead rabbit from the ‘73 film?

The final verdict *drum roll pls*

I don’t hate it, but it’s just not worth the watch. Even for fans of so-bad-its-good movies, there’s not enough funny bad stuff for it to be enjoyable. Just a bit boring. Save 100 minutes and watch the best bits on YouTube, instead.

Enjoyed this blog? Go ahead and let me know by liking and reblogging this post.

Want to hear more reviews? Let me know which film you want to hear about next, and hit follow to be updated with my next one.

#The Wicker Man #Nicolas Cage #Horror Movies #horror films #bad horror films #horror #scary movies #ghost stories #true ghost stories #paranormal #supernatural #cult #pagan #Film Review #so bad it's good #unintentionally funny

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triptuckers · 3 years

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Two Homes (part 5/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: no Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary: even though you were determined to leave the palace as soon as you could, you now find yourself waking up in a luxurious room of the palace months later Warnings: angst Word count: 4.7K..... yea A/N: for the sake of this series, nikolai never gave alina the lantsov emerald lol also this turned out longer than I planned it to be but do I regret it? maybe a bit not in the slightest, enjoy reading! :) (also I know I posted part 4 like yesterday but I want this one out there cause a lot happens & I want to post part 6 & 7 so bad) PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting@im-constantly-fangirling @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey (if your name is in bold it means I couldn't tag you) @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 add yourself to my tag lists here

For someone who had dreaded going to Os Alta, you find yourself starting to actually like it. After pulling you aside, out of earshot of your father, Nikolai explained to you why he told your father he’d picked you as his bride.

When he told you it was to ensure he couldn’t control your life any longer, you got confused, asking him why he would do such thing. In response, he recalled the conversation you had at the gardens, when you told him your father had been controlling your entire life, and how people had made decisions for him his entire life as well.

Nikolai merely said he thought you deserved to make your own choices for once. Even if it meant living at the palace, far away from Ketterdam.

You had agreed to stay at the palace. You knew you couldn’t go back to Ketterdam now. The news of Nikolai picking you as his bride would probably travel faster than you’d like to.

While you did like Nikolai, and you enjoyed the little time you had spent with him, you made it clear you still didn’t want to marry him. That a part of still longed for Ketterdam.

Nikolai listened to you explaining your choices, and respected them. While both of you knew all eyes would be on you after announcing the engagement, you also knew you couldn’t push it back any further. Not after all the rumours.

He did agree to wait with picking an actual wedding date, giving you enough time to get used to your new life. You had told him you had no intention of marrying him, but over time you found yourself thinking more and more about it.

You’re amazed by the palace, and the life you live now. Every day, you walk around the palace, finding new routes and rooms. You start to think you might never see all of it in one lifetime. And you visit the gardens as well.

You keep the yellow flower Nikolai had given you next to the mirror in your room. But you’d never tell him that, he’d tease you endlessly about it.

As more weeks pass by, you spend more time with Nikolai, as well as his triumvirate. He’d invited you to few of their meetings, telling you if you ever did get married, you’d have to attend them as well. And the sooner you got used to it, the better.

At first, it felt a little weird. You walk around with Nikolai and everyone knows you as his future bride. While it feels odd, Nikolai’s presence is a comforting one. And the more you get to know him, the more you actually start to like him. Maybe staying at the palace wouldn’t be so bad as you thought it would be.

He spends a lot of time getting to know you. You have long conversations about your life in Ketterdam and his time in the army. About both of your dreams for the future, and what you want to achieve. But you also talk about small and simple things such as your favourite dish, or a book you love.

Most of the talks take place in the gardens or your room. You like getting to know the Nikolai beneath the mantle of king. You start to realise the two of you aren’t so different. If you had been born in a different city, you might have been childhood friends.

On a particularly sunny spring morning, the two of you walk around the gardens again. Nikolai doesn’t even have to offer his arm to you, you already place your hand on it. After some time, you’ve slipped into an easy morning routine, which sometimes includes a walk through the gardens.

‘How long until the Summers Week blooms again?’ you ask him as you walk past the familiar bush.

Nikolai glances at the same bush. ‘Probably a couple of months.’ he says. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I think they’re beautiful.’ you as the two of you sit down on the same bench you sat on so many months ago, when you had escaped the ball. ‘It really is a shame they only bloom for such a short period of time.’

‘Do you still have that one flower I gave you when we met?’ asks Nikolai.

You glare at him. You just know he’d never let you forget it if he knew you kept it. ‘Yes.’ you say. ‘I wouldn’t throw it away.’

And indeed, a smug look appears on Nikolai’s face. ‘I’m delighted you didn’t throw it away.’ he says.

You playfully roll your eyes. ‘I expect a new one when they bloom again.’ you say.

‘I’ll make sure to give you one, sweetheart.’ he says with a smile.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the mention of the nickname. He’d called you nicknames on more than one occasion. You still weren’t used to it. Maybe it had to do something with the fact that Nikolai seems to always look good.

You look at the bush again, getting lost in your thoughts. Nikolai seems to notice. After a while of silence, he speaks up.

‘What’s on your mind?’ he asks you.

You wonder when get got so good at reading your face. ‘I’ve been thinking about, well, all of this.’ you say, gesturing to the gardens and the palace behind you.

Nikolai turns so he can properly look at you. ‘And?’ he says.

‘I have to admit, life at the grand palace isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. And it has been nice not to have my father following me around all day long. I still miss Ketterdam, but maybe not as much as I used to.’ you say.

You briefly look at Nikolai and notice a faint smile on his lips as he’s listening to you.

‘Plus, the company isn’t so bad.’ you say. ‘I know I made it clear I didn’t want this. But the time I've spent here has been very nice. Everyone is so kind, and I love the walks around the palace.’

‘What exactly are you saying, Y/N?’ says Nikolai, though the look on his face tells you he already knows.

You take a deep breath. ‘I’m saying I’m willing to do this. I think I could be happy here. I’m willing to marry you. Even it it’s just for the sake of Ravka. I’d rather marry you than some old merchant back in Kerch.’ you say.

Nikolai smiles. ‘That’s good to hear.’ he says. ‘Was it my dashing smile or charming personality that made you decide to stay?’

‘Don’t get cocky now, Nikolai.’ you chuckle.

‘Sweetheart, have you actually met me? I’ll always be cocky.’ he says.

You laugh and Nikolai reaches out to take one of your hands in his.

‘But on a more serious note, I really am glad you decided to stay. I didn’t lie when I said you’re nice company.’ he says. ‘And now I can finally give you this.’

He gets something out of his pocket and holds it in his closed fist.

‘Close your eyes.’ he says.

You slightly raise your eyebrows. ‘Really?’ you say.

‘Really.’ says Nikolai, smirking at you.

You do as he says and close your eyes. You feel how Nikolai lifts your hand and slides something on your finger. You feel the weight of it on your finger and can tell what it is before Nikolai tells you to open your eyes.

A ring with a beautiful green emerald sits on your finger. Your lips part in surprise. He doesn’t even have to say it, you know this ring.

‘This is the Lantsov emerald.’ you say as you look at him.

‘It’s really just an emerald like any others.’ says Nikolai, looking at your hand which is still in his. ‘But that is what most people call it, yes.’

You admire the ring on your finger. ‘It’s beautiful.’ you say. When you look up, you see Nikolai looking at you with an odd expression on his face.

‘What is it?’ you say.

He simply smiles at you and shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’ he says. He gets up and offers you his arm again. ‘Shall we go back to the palace? It’s almost lunch time.’

You nod and get up as well but instead of laying your hand on his arm, you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers with his instead. The two of you walk back to the palace, and you try to ignore the way people look at your left hand, clearly eyeing the emerald ring.

This would be yet another rumour that would spread impossibly fast. You had to write another letter to the Crow Club soon. You’d rather have your friends find out through you, than because of rumours.

You’d been writing letters to the Crows since you decided you stay at the palace. You told them about your life at the palace, and in return they told you what was going on in Ketterdam.

You loved receiving letters from them. They each took turns writing you, and all of them signed the letter.

Once you had lunch, Nikolai got called away to another meeting, and you went to your room to write a letter to Ketterdam. As usual, you started off by asking them how they were doing, if any jobs went wrong, and a new prediction on how many card games Jesper had lost.

You then wrote about finally accepting the fact you’d marry Nikolai. Despite the chances being low they could attend, you invited them to the wedding anyway. You told them you’d send them a formal invitation with the date as soon as you picked a date.

And then the chaos started. Genya insisted on being in charge of the planning, and she also sketched you a few designs for your wedding dress. They were all equally stunning, and you couldn’t pick one. Eventually, Nikolai picked the one he thought would suit you best.

Zoya was in charge of putting together the guest list. When she asked you who you wanted to invite, you gave her the names of the Crows. She seemed a bit taken aback you’d invite them because after all, they were criminals. You hadn’t yet told her you’d been part of the Crows for many years as well.

When you looked at the list she was writing, you noticed your father’s name on it as well. He’d sent you many letters, which you ignored. You took the pen from Zoya’s hand and crossed his name off the list without a word.

Time seemed to fly by at an alarmingly speed. Before you know it, you wake up on the morning of your wedding. Until this day, it seemed like a strange concept somehow. As if you couldn’t fully realise it.

But when your eyes land on your wedding dress, you feel like for the first time, the realisation of what’s about to happen finally sinks in. You would marry Nikolai. You would take his name and you would become a queen. Of a country that’s not even your own.

A knock on your door catches you off guard and you call for them to come in. Genya enters, followed by a few servants. She’s beaming at you, clearly excited about today.

‘Are you ready?’ she says.

‘More like the most nervous I’ve ever been.’ you say.

Genya smiles at you as she sits down on the bed next to you. ‘I understand you’re nervous.’ she says. ‘But I promise you it’ll be alright. We’ll all be here right beside you. And it’s just one day.’

‘One day of ceremonies and traditions and then I’m a queen.’ you say, having an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

‘Nikolai will be there by your side. And we will be there as well.’ says Genya. ‘Now let’s get you in that dress.’

She rises to her feet and motions for you to get up as well. You hesitate.

‘Could you, um, go and get Nikolai?’ you ask her, avoiding her eyes. ‘I want to talk to him.’

‘Of course.’ she says and she immediately leaves the room. You get up and start to pace the room, ignoring the servants who are patiently waiting for you. It doesn’t take long for Genya to return with Nikolai.

Nikolai smiles at you and asks the servants and Genya to leave the room, which they do.

By the looks of it, Genya caught him while he was getting dressed. His hair is still messy and his shirt is hastily tucked into his pants. He walks up to you, looking at you.

‘What can I do for you?’ he says.

‘I’m nervous.’ you say.

‘If it helps, I’m nervous too.’ he says.

‘But you always manage to hide it behind a curtain of flirty comments and confidence.’ you say. ‘I wish I could do that.’

‘Y/N, just because I always know what to say, doesn’t mean I don’t get nervous.’ says Nikolai.

He reaches out to take your hand in his and walks you back to your bed, where you sit down.

‘Listen, it’s completely normal to be nervous. It’s a big day. A lot of important people are going to be present. But I want you to be okay with this, so do you still want to do this?’ he says.

You look at him and frown. ‘Yes, of course!’ you say. ‘We’re not going to cancel this whole thing because I’m nervous. I just hope I won’t throw up because of the nerves.’

Nikolai chuckles. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ he says. ‘If it makes you feel better, we could practice.’

You frown again. ‘Practice what? I know how weddings work, Nikolai.’ you say.

‘It wasn’t the entire wedding I was talking about.’ says Nikolai.

You look at him, waiting for him to continue. He looks at your lips instead.

‘Oh.’ you say softly. That was what he meant.

Nikolai slowly inches closer to you, leaning in. His eyes switch from your lips to your eyes, silently asking permission. You give the barest of nods and Nikolai closes the remaining space between you, softly pressing his lips against yours.

You close your eyes and focus on the feeling of his lips on yours. All of the nerves seem to leave your body as you easy into him. When he pulls away, your faces are still close to each other.

‘Well if that’s what you call practicing, I wonder what the real thing is going to do to top that.’ you say.

Nikolai laughs at your words. ‘You’re getting better at your comebacks with every passing day, sweetheart.’ he says.

‘I learn from the best.’ you say, smiling at him.

‘Are you ready for this?’ says Nikolai.

‘I am now.’ you say with a hint of newfound confidence.

Nikolai nods and gets up. ‘I’ll call Genya back.’ he says.

You get up as well and walk with him to the door. Before opening it, Nikolai takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your knuckles. With a wink, he opens the door and steps out into the hallway.

Once Genya and the servants enter, she immediately drags you over and pushes you into a chair to do your hair.

‘You don’t seem nervous anymore.’ she says.

‘I’m not.’ you say. ‘Nikola and I, uh, talked about it.’ you say, unable to stop your cheeks from turning red.

Genya smiles knowingly at you. ‘I’m sure it was a good talk then.’ she says, emphasising the word “talk”.

‘It was.’ you say, avoiding her eyes.

The smile never leaves Genya’s face as she finishes with doing your hair. The servants help you to get in the dress, and you finally look at yourself in the mirror. Genya had really outdone herself with the dress. It looks beautiful on you, as if it was meant to be.

You turn to look at her. ‘Thank you.’ you say. ‘Truly. It’s perfect.’

‘Don’t thank me. Nikolai is the one who picked the dress.’ she says. ‘Are you ready to go?’

You take a deep breath and nod. Genya links her arm through yours and you start walking toward the small chapel on the palace grounds. The guests had already arrived and were gathered inside. You can hear them talking and chatting excitedly even outside the chapel.

Genya hugs you tightly and disappears inside the chapel. After a few deep breaths to calm yourself again, you firmly plant your feet on the ground. No going back now.

The doors to the chapel open and you watch as the guests all rise. A last deep breath, and you start walking. Were there really this many people on the list Zoya had put together?

You start to feel nervous again, but then you see Nikolai looking at you. He’s smiling brightly, and looks very handsome. You remember the feeling of his lips on yours, and find your confidence once more.

You slowly walk down the aisle, smiling as well, and your eyes are fixed on Nikolai. When you finally make it to the front of the chapel, Nikolai smiles as you stop walking.

‘Still nervous?’ he whispers softly, so only you can hear it.

‘Not anymore, thanks to you.’ you whisper back.

You take a quick look at the crowd. You only recognise the people that lived at the palace as well. Thankfully, you don’t see your father in the crowd. But your heart sinks as you don’t spot your Crows either. They didn’t come.

You had invited them. Maybe they feared being captured if they risked coming to Os Alta? Whatever their reason was, you’re sure it was a good one. You’d send them a letter after the wedding, asking them if maybe an important job had come up. But still, it hurt a little they wouldn’t attend your wedding.

The wedding itself seems to last minutes. You’re only focused on Nikolai. He holds your hand and you’re grateful he does. It helps keep you grounded. You had expected the wedding to be grand because after all, it is a royal one. But once you leave the chapel, hand in hand with Nikolai, you realise it turned out to be even better than you expected.

The two of you are silent as you walk through the halls of the palace. You see the door to your room in the distance, but Nikolai walks right past it. When you raise your eyebrows in question at him, he points at the door to his room in the distance.

‘They’d expect us to share a room. It’d be a bit weird if we got married but sleep in separate rooms.’ he says. ‘Don’t worry, the bed is large enough to fit both of us without having to cuddle close. Not that I would mind if you did.’

You chuckle at his words as he opens the door to his room. You’re thankful to be away from all the guests. You appreciated that they all came to attend the wedding, but you got tired of listening to their congratulations over and over again.

Once the door closes behind you, you immediately bend down to take off your heels. You watch as Nikolai shrugs off his suit jacket and runs a hand through his hair.

‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ he says.

‘It wasn’t bad at all.’ you say.

Nikolai studies your face. ‘But there’s something on your mind.’ he says.

‘I just...’ your voice trails off as you try to find the best way to voice your thoughts. Nikolai takes your hand and pulls you down to sit on the bed with him.

‘I thought they would come.’ you say softly. ‘I invited them, and I know I haven’t seen them in a while, but I thought they’d at least come to my wedding. I spent years with them.’

‘Maybe something else got in the way? Maybe something came up and they simply couldn’t make it?’ suggest Nikolai.

You shake your head. ‘Even if Kaz would plan a job, Jesper and Nina would burn down all of Ketterdam if a job prevented them from attending my wedding.’ you say. ‘I can’t think of a single reason why they wouldn’t come. I thought I meant more to them.’

‘What if you write them another letter? I’m sure if you just ask them, they’ll explain why they couldn’t be there.’ says Nikolai.

‘I was going to write them about it anyway.’ you say. ‘But first I want to change. As beautiful as this dress is, it’s incredibly heavy.’

‘I had a servant move some of your belongings here already.’ says Nikolai. ‘A part of the closet is now yours.’

‘Thank you.’ you say and you walk over to the closet, opening it. You pick one of your comfortable dresses and go to the bathroom to change. When you get back, you see Nikolai hasn’t changed yet. You didn't mind. He really looked good in a formal suit.

You move to sit behind Nikolai’s desk to write a letter to Ketterdam. You try to sound polite, but a part of you wants to just write what you’re actually thinking. But the Crows mean the world to you, and you don’t want to hurt them or piss them off.

Once you finish the letter, you seal it and hand it to a servant, telling them it’s urgent.

When you get back to the room, you find Nikolai sitting at his desk, fidgeting with something in his hands. Curiously, you walk over to him.

‘What are you doing?’ you say.

Nikolai looks up and holds out his hand to you. On his palm is a small boat, made out of a piece of rope. You carefully take it from his hand to examine it.

‘How did you learn how to make this?’ you as him.

He shrugs. ‘A lot of practicing.’ he says.

You smile and hand the little boat back to him. ‘It’s nice.’ you say. ‘Could you teach me how to make one?’

Nikolai nods and pulls out a second chair for you. He spends the rest of the evening trying to teach you how to make a boat out of a piece of rope. While his fingers move smoothly and create the boats with ease, you struggle with it. After all, he had probably done it for many years, whereas you’re only trying it out for the first time.

When you successfully finish your first boat, you decide to call it a night and go to sleep. Nikolai hadn’t been lying; the bed was big enough to fit the both of you comfortably without invading each other’s personal space.

Your usual routines don’t change much. Except for the fact you know share a room and a bed. And you notice there are more lingering glances between the two of you.

Like Nikolai had said, you’re expected to attend important meetings as well. You try to listen to it, but sometimes the meetings just aren’t interesting in your eyes. Luckily you always sit next to Nikolai, who is able to nudge your leg with his boot if he thinks you’re starting to zone out.

You have breakfast together every morning, expect for the mornings when Nikolai isn’t at the palace. You practice making boats out of rope, and you’re improving. Nikolai’s still turn out better than yours, but you’re getting there.

Every day, you ask if there’s mail for you. But somehow the Crows don’t send letters as frequently as they used to. And they had never given you a proper explanation as to why they didn’t attend your wedding.

Most of the times when you’re lost in thought, you’re thinking about Ketterdam. You hadn’t been there in months, not since the ball. It’s as if the longer you stay at the palace, the more you miss Ketterdam.

The city had always felt like home. And no matter how much you like spending time at the palace with Nikolai, you can’t help but to feel guilty for being away from Ketterdam for so long. You miss the city, and you miss your Crows.

Nikolai must have noticed something is bothering you, but you dodge his questions. You try to come up with excuses, but eventually, he pulls you aside and stands in front of the door, preventing you from slipping away.

‘Out with it.’ he says. ‘What is going on?’

You look at him, not sure what to say.

‘Is it our marriage? Do you regret it? Is that why you’re avoiding talking with me?’ says Nikolai.

‘Of course not!’ you quickly say. ‘Nikolai, I do not regret our marriage. I happen like you a lot.’

‘Then what is it?’ says Nikolai. ‘You’re not yourself and I can tell something is bothering you. Let me help you.’

‘I don’t know where to start.’ you say softly, lowering your head and looking at your feet. It all seemed so childish now.

‘I miss Ketterdam.’ you say softly. You feel tears burning behind your eyes. ‘I miss the harbour, and the tourists flooding the docks. I miss playing card games with Jesper, and going out with Nina. I miss talking with Inej and going over Kaz’ plans with him. I even miss reading to Wylan and trying to win a drinking contest from Matthias. I miss the Crow Club, and their laughter. I miss all of it.’

You see how Nikolai’s feet step closer to you and his hands cup your face, tilting it upward so you look at him. He brushes a tear away with his thumb.

‘It’s alright to miss Ketterdam.’ he says. ‘You left everything behind, I understand it if you miss it. It’s been your home for so long.’

‘But this is my home now.’ you say, your voice trembling slightly. ‘Here in Os Alta, with you. I shouldn’t long to go back to Ketterdam as much as I do.’

Nikolai smiles at you, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. ‘I told you a long time ago I won’t let anyone else control the choices you make in life, sweetheart. If you want to go to Ketterdam, I think you should go.’ he says.

You stare up at him, letting his words sink in. ‘But I’m your wife. You’d let me go just like that?’ you say.

‘You are indeed my wife. But I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. If you think you’re happier in Ketterdam than you are at the palace, then you should go. Go and be happy.’ he says.

‘But I'm happy with you too.’ you say. ‘I just miss my home, that’s all.’

He smiles again. ‘Then you should go home. This is not goodbye forever, you know.’ he says.

‘Not goodbye forever.’ you say, repeating his words.

You stand on your toes and lean up to kiss him. Nikolai pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around his waist in response. When you pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

‘Go.’ he says softly. ‘Go to your Ketterdam, go to your Crows. I’m sure they’d love to see you again.’

You nod and pull yourself out of his embrace. Nikolai watches you as you quickly pack a bag with some essentials. You can’t bear to look at him again as you walk past him, out of the room.

You didn’t know Nikolai followed you from a distance, to see you off. As soon as you got on a horse and left the gates, he stands at the top of the stairs that lead to the entrance of the palace.

He watches you as you become a smaller and smaller dot on the horizon. The triumvirate, who had seen the two of you leave, joins him on the steps, wondering what Nikolai is looking at.

‘Was that Y/N? says Zoya. ‘Where is she going?’

‘Back to Ketterdam.’ says Nikolai.

Zoya turns to Nikolai. ‘You let her go?’ she says. ‘Saints, Nikolai, why did you let her go?’

Nikolai doesn’t say anything and continues to look at the horizon. Genya is studying Nikolai’s face as he looks at you in the distance. Her lips part in surprise, but her eyes are sad.

‘Because he loves her.’ says Genya.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#HA 😌#me writing this & knowing what's gonna happen: hehe #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfics #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fics #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fics #two homes series

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saturnsummer · 3 years

Text

the fairytale she never had (will you believe again?)

when sol is invited to a wedding, sol doesn’t think her best friend would follow her.

aka: solhwi attending a wedding

notes: it just struck me one day, and i really wanted them to see each other outside of the law school moments! while law school defines them, they are certainly people with social activities.

i adapted this from a similar prompt i saw from a fic many years ago for a separate fandom, and i always wanted to write something similar. this was honestly not met to be multi-part, but i write too much anyways. so multi-part it will be.

also, it might sound depressing in the initial part where sol is talking about the wedding invitation, but it gets explained later on.

as always, enjoy! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4135 words

I: 我愿变成童话里, 你爱的那个天使 (i am willing to be the angel of that fairytale you love)

--title inspired by fairytale (童话) by Michael Wong!--

Sol absolutely hates weddings.

She hated the big social crowds, the way drunk men in tuxedos staggered around with women in one arm and a drink in another. She found no purpose in dressing in lavish gowns, then eating dinner for the next two hours without even feeling full.

Sol couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this. She can’t help but remember her mother’s failed marriages. The way her biological father left them in the middle of the night, with all their hard earned savings. The way her stepfather, Byeol’s father, would come home drunk and violent towards her mother. It was a memory she couldn’t erase. More than a decade later, she still wakes up in a cold sweat, worrying for her mother and small Byeol’s life.

She long ago gave up on the concept of love back then. She wasn’t opposed to anyone dating or talking about it, and she certainly didn’t mind short flings. But marriage? Eternal love? The fairytale that everyone hopes to achieve? Sol threw those ideas out of the window.

So when Sol received a thick, cream-coloured card and envelope, embossed with rose gold foil and flowers, a pretty silver wax seal and her name written in careful strokes of a calligraphy brush, she was stumped.

Her friend, Im Jiyoon, was getting married. Jiyoon was a good friend of Sol’s, and they occasionally met up for quick meals. Jiyoon was an accountant and climbing the ranks in her company. They lost contact for a period when Sol was in juvie, but they reconnected when Sol was just starting law school. It was only polite that Jiyoon extended invitations to her high school classmate.

Sol had mixed feelings. The wedding was on a Friday night, which made things good since she didn’t have to wake up early, fitting her schedule properly. But she had nothing to wear. She could borrow a dress and shoes from Yeseul, but the last time she borrowed a shoe from Yeseul, she almost broke her ankle. And she had so much work to catch up on. Yet, not showing up felt rude of her.

Jiyoon was nice, don’t get her wrong. She was smart, resourceful and lovely to be with in high school. Sol wanted nothing more than for her high school friend to marry the love of her life. But she hasn't been to such social events in years, and being so focussed on school, the legal clinic and contributing to her family, she found it difficult to understand why she needed to go, besides doing it out of courtesy.

“What’s that?” A familiar voice pipes from behind, drawing her out of her thoughts. There’s the familiar shuffling of several pairs of feet as Sol turns her attention to the one who spoke. Behind her, was Han Joon Hwi with his bag just being set on the table. The rest of the group was just settling in for another study session.

“Ah, nothing important.” She monotonously says before sliding the card in her files. Joon Hwi’s hands catch the card before she can slide it fully and stop her from hiding it from him, or the rest of the group. The rest draw their attention to the expensive card and Sol only stays silent.

“A wedding? Your friend’s?” Yeseul asks as she picks the card up with perfectly manicured fingers. Turning and feeling the thick paper between her fingers, Yeseul knew it was no cheap manufactured paper. This was expensive, premium, and each card looked handmade from the brush calligraphy.

“Yeah. But I don’t think I’m going.” Sol says as Yeseul returns her the card and successfully stores it away in her bag.

“Why not? Don’t you want to be there?” Joon Hwi asks, cocking his head to the side in utter confusion.

“There isn’t much point, is there? I have school and the legal clinic and things to revise for. And besides, I don't have anything to attend in. I just rather send her a gift and treat her a meal.” Sol simply explains. Everyone bombards her with more questions, but she diverts their attention to her paper and the cases they are reviewing today.

Joon Hwi, however, couldn’t get Sol’s reasoning out of his head. He knew Sol well enough to know how much she values her friends, and that she would be willing to drop everything for a friend. Her loyalty was unmatched. It didn’t make sense that she would be held back by her vanity or school work that caused her to not attend such a joyous occasion.

When everyone is done reviewing the cases and the session ends, Sol is the only one who has her books and papers still scattered all over the table. She still has to review her notes and catch up on a few lectures before she can officially end her day. Joon Hwi was long done, but he stayed put, bringing out a past report he’s done and glancing through it, hopeful to catch any mistakes. The others have headed back or gone to the cafeteria for a meal.

“Han Joon Hwi, you don’t have to stay for me, you know?” Sol says, her eyes not once looking up as she stays concentrated highlighting her book with a fluorescent orange highlight. She sticks it in her hair when she’s done, raising her head to meet Joon Hwi’s eyes. Joon Hwi only smiles, letting his eyes crinkle.

“Why don’t you want to attend the wedding?” Joon Hwi asks, still smiling. Sol scoffs.

“I already said. I’m too busy-” Sol is cut off by Joon Hwi with his teasing.

“You sure? I think it’s about the groom, though.” Joon Hwi smiles brightly, earning an irritated series of clicks of her tongue from Sol, clearly successful in being teased.

“None of that sort! Who do you think I am, Han Joon Hwi?” Sol rebuts back, throwing her eraser across to him in annoyance.

Joon Hwi catches it with a laugh, but doesn’t lose eye contact with Sol. A few moments of silence follow, as she looks at the file with the card. Slowly, she draws the card from her file, holding it carefully between her fingers.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be there. I… it’s my first time going to such a social event in such a long time. And the last time I met Jiyoon was a year ago, back in our 1L.” She says softly, letting her fingers brush her calligraphed name.

“I just… rather not go, you know? Treat her to a nice meal somewhere, maybe a couple drinks. Besides, I’m sure she’s just doing it out of courtesy.” She lets out a light laugh.

Joon Hwi’s heart softens. He’s witnessed Sol in her different elements. The courtroom, where she’s a powerful woman in command, dressed professionally in a suit and hair in a perfect ponytail. The day-to-day her, where she’s comfortably dressed in jeans and her tanned coat, hair in a bun and post it notes on her jacket. She was always so bold, so confident and so full of fire. It never occurred to him that she would be uncomfortable in social events. She was always the life during dinners, with Bokgi. She laughed loudly, engaged in conversations and seemed so comfortable. He remembers how she would help out the old halmeonis with her neighbourhood on some days when he sent her home, or the times she bought ice creams for Byeol’s classmates. She seemed so extroverted, yet so closed off. Eying her, Joon Hwi reaches out and clasps his hand over hers in an attempt to comfort.

“I never went to school events, you know? Especially since juvie made me miss it. When I redid my high school year, I didn’t go too. There wasn’t much of a point, since I didn’t have a date or many friends to begin with. If it was Dan, she would have gone, being the popular girl she was back then.” Sol softly says, a small smile ghosting her face.

She remembers the day prom arrived for her school. She was expectant, hoping that the boy she liked would invite her. Or maybe the girls that she occasionally had lunch with will invite her to hang out. But all she got was a stone cold silence the weeks leading up to prom. When everyone buzzed on what they were wearing to prom night, she silently put on her headphones, drilling herself into her science assignments. Of course, she wouldn’t be invited.

She knew the rumours floating in school. How Dan was the perfect one, how she was the failed one. She knew everyone knew she went to juvie. She knows how the boys snicker at her when she walks past them, or how the girls gossip and whisper when she’s eating her lunch. Besides, it didn't help that she was poor. She can’t even afford a dress of her own, let alone go to the event.

Realising what she’s said, Sol quickly draws her hand away along with the card and slots it away in her file.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to blabber on. You must think it’s stupid, I think so too. Anyways, do you have the notes Professor Kim...” Sol quickly apologises and diverts her attention to her notes. But Joon Hwi was no longer listening. He was shattered by how the woman sitting in front of him has never been treated like how she should be treated. It was no secret to Joon Hwi that he cared for his friends, but cared a little more for Sol. He was the one that left post-it notes on her table and pretended he didn't. She was the only one that he would let steal a mouth or two from his ramyeon. He could read her moods just from her eyes. He wonders sometimes, if he sees her more than a friend.

He won’t hide that she’s beautiful. The way her eyes slant in an elegant fashion, her smooth, slightly tanned skin, and her winning smile that he always found his heart beating faster for. He loves the way she smiles at her extra pickles, the way her eyes light up when she sees Byeol, or the way she argues and practices. The tenacity and desire she has to improve inspires him to work as hard as her.

This is why when Sol spilled the beans, he couldn't help but feel all sorts of emotions. Anger, towards the people in her school, for not realising such a wonderful student. Anger towards her for degrading herself. Sadness, for her not being able to experience such events.

As Joon Hwi ended the session with her and returned to his room, he made a promise to Sol. He’s convinced it will work, and he begins planning in his head.

He will show her the fairytale.

-----

A week passed.

Sol had to give a reply in a few days and she has not figured out what to say. The wedding was in a month. She knew Jiyoon would be busy... Sol figures that she should just treat Jiyoon after her honeymoon, knowing how she would be away with her husband as newlyweds later on.

“Still thinking about the wedding?” Joon Hwi nods at her, her head in her hands. Sol, looking defeated, nods. So much for trying to hide. They were at their pantry area of their dorms, Sol stirring her ramyeon, as Joon Hwi slurps his. It was 3am, and they just finished studying. The next day was a weekend, so it didn’t really matter if they slept late, since they got the privilege of sleeping in.

“What do I tell Jiyoon? I don’t want to sound rude.” Sol mumbles, lazily stirring her soggy noodles.

“Go to the wedding.” Joon Hwi says suddenly, continuously slurping.

“What?!”

“Sol, how many weddings can you even go to in your life? Are you sure you want to miss this one? Besides, you said you haven’t been to social events. Don’t you want to experience it?” Joon Hwi says, adrenaline building in his voice.

Sol falls silent. She can’t deny that she wants to experience the feeling of being dolled up, the fun that everyone talks about, and the enjoyment that everyone goes through. And Joon Hwi is right; she wants to celebrate with Jiyoon. But her fear of social events and the past was holding her back.

Joon Hwi could tell the change in her eyes. He gives a sweet smile, knowing that he said enough to change her mind.

“Joon Hwi, but what if she doesn’t even-” Sol begins doubting herself as she shoots off her doubts and worries. Joon Hwi calms her down with logical reasons, calming her nerves in between his mouths of ramyeon.

“But... I’ll be alone there, right?” Sol asks, her voice so soft, Joon Hwi barely picks it up. Her ramyeon is still untouched, and the noodles have gotten soggy and cold. Sol is silent for a moment, as she realises how right she is, for once. It wasn’t like she could ask a date, she doesn’t even have one. And her friends from the study group were out of the question. They don’t even know Jiyoon. Joon Hwi quickly brings up his bowl to his face, hopefully covering it as he feels the heat rising to his face.

“I’ll be your plus-one.”

Sol’s eyes light up and her head rises. Did she hear that right? Han Joon Hwi, her plus-one?

“Oh, no! No, I didn’t mean it like that! Joon Hwi, no, I can’t-” Sol can’t find the right words to say. He can't? He shouldn’t? He doesn't need to? Sol can’t deduce her own reasonings for this argument. She knows her roommate likes him, and she definitely doesn’t want to be the target of her roommate’s stares if she catches wind of this. Besides, Joon Hwi doesn’t like her. She knows, and she doesn’t want him to get any wrong ideas. He’s her best friend, and confidante. She knows, deep down, his heart is someone else's.

“I want to.”

Sol freezes as Joon Hwi finishes drinking his soup. Placing the bowl down, he does as best as he can to lock eyes with Sol seriously, showing her he wasn’t teasing. No, this was out of his sincere heart. He knows how nervous she gets in a new environment, and him being next to her was bound to calm her nerves just a little more.

Sol could see the genuine care and want in his eyes. She knows this isn’t one of his jokes or teases. For a split second, she catches herself thinking if he meant something more. That going as a date, was more than just keeping her company, but for something to develop…

Her face is flushed red as she looks at her puffed noodles and lukewarm soup. She picks her chopsticks up but is stopped by Joon Hwi’s hand as he shifts the bowl toward him, away from her.

“Get yourself a fresh one. This is the first meal all day, isn’t it?” Joon Hwi calls her out, covering her noodles. Sol wants to argue for her soggy noodles, but she falls silent knowing how he revealed her secret. She hasn’t eaten all day after running reports and studying. Grumbling, she does as instructed and boils another bowl of ramyeon. When she’s back at the table with a fresh, hot, spicy and red bowl, she dives into it, wondering how she managed to survive the whole day.

Joon Hwi only gives a small smile looking at the girl slurping her noodles with delight and looking at her. Joon Hwi wasn’t lying. He did want to be her plus-one for the wedding. He knew that more than just being a comfort for Sol, he wanted to make this one day a day she could look back and smile at. That she could be pretty, relaxed and happy instead of stressing over her grades, exams and family.

“Fine.” Sol says as she continues slurping the spicy noodles. She blesses the spiciness of the noodles, such that she could blame her pink blush on it. Joon Hwi, clearing the cold noodles and getting water for both of them tilts his head in confusion.

“Come with me to the wedding, if you want to.” She mutters softly, almost shy to let him know. To hide her blush and hide her confusion, she lifts the still hot bowl to her face. She drinks the soup, but chokes on the spiciness. Joon Hwi lets out a light chuckle before passing her a bottle of cold water. Sol looks at him with narrowed eyes of annoyance, but graciously takes the water.

As he watches Sol eat her first bowl, then a second, as Joon Hwi munches on some crackers, he only smiles and laughs at whatever Sol was complaining about her reports and her frustrations at her cases that she picked. He lets out comforting words, but is rebutted back with Sol saying he will never get it because he’s smart unlike her.

As he went to bed that night, he only gave a giddy smile, burying his face in his sheets. He scored his point of taking Sol out on a date, and was already counting down. He officially succeeded in the first step of his plan.

The rest of it required a little bit of help. But he knew who to ask.

-----

“Yeseul! What is it that you need to wake me up on a weekend? I was up until 4am last night!” Sol grumbles as she places her phone on speaker, rubbing her eyes. It was 8am, way too early for Sol to process any emergencies. Well, if it was Yeseul, she would do it any time.

“Sorry, unnie. But it’s urgent. Could you meet me in 10 minutes at the lobby?” Yeseul’s bright voice echos. Sol notices her roomie’s bed made, pillows nicely fluffed and sheets tucked in neatly in pure perfection. She isn’t surprised, considering how she gets up early anyways.

“Fine.” Sol says and hangs up, getting a fresh change of clothes and heading to the bathroom to wash up. She throws on a hoodie, grabbing her only tanned ochre coat and grabs her bag, before jogging downstairs to the lobby. There, Yeseul is standing there, with a sling black bag and with one of the many nude heels she has, hair styled to perfection.

“Unnie!” Yeseul waves her hand over. Walking closer, Sol notices two other familiar friends behind as she scoffs.

“Joonhwi? Bokgi? What are you doing here?” She asks, her hand playing with the strap of her bag unconsciously. She was surprised to see Joonhwi, but even more Bokgi, who usually spends mornings sleeping in. Joonhwi only gives his usual cheeky smile and drags a drowsy Bokgi with him out towards to the main entrance of the school. Dumbfounded, Yeseul takes this moment to link her arm with Sol’s as she leads her out and catch Sol up to their agenda today.

“What?! You’re bringing me where?” Sol exclaims, her voice echoing throughout the lobby. Yeseul shushes her as she drags a shocked Sol out of school. Yeseul didn't need the whole school to know where Sol was going.

“Unnie, please? You need a dress for the wedding, and don’t think you are going to go in one of mine or your old ones! Besides, you promised to go shopping with me one day, right?” Yeseul defends herself as Sol sighs.

Yeseul wasn’t wrong. The wedding was just a week away and she had absolutely nothing to wear. She owned a couple pairs of flats, but they were so old, it would be embarrassing to attend with those. And her dresses were either too big or too small. She was so caught up with school after submitting her reply to Jiyoon, that she would have forgotten about the wedding if it wasn’t for the post-it on her bedside wall.

“But...but...” Sol couldn’t find any reasons to counter. She knew Yeseul was right. Besides, it’s a weekend. And they had no upcoming tests or projects, so there was no harm in doing something besides studying in the copy room. She nods, defeated, earning a smile from Yeseul.

“Wait, then why is Joonhwi and- Who’s car is that?!” Sol’s thoughts are cut off when she sees a familiar black sedan waiting by the entrance as Sol and Yeseul just exit. In the car, she manages to see a Joonhwi in the driver’s seat and Bokgi riding shotgun.

“Yah! Han Joon Hwi! Isn’t this my roomie’s car?” She shouts as she strides a couple of steps when Joonhwi rolls the window down.

“She loaned me the car for today. Don’t want you carrying so many things back from shopping today.” He replies curtly. Bokgi opens his passenger side door on the right.

“Bokgi-”

“Noona, sit in front. I’m too tired to watch Joonhwi-hyung drive.” Bokgi mutters before he climbs into the backseat with Yeseul. Sol wordlessly settles into the seat next to Joonhwi, who only looks at her with a smile. Sol catches his odd looks and pauses.

“What?”

“Ready for shopping?” He has his cheeky smile on again. Sol glares in annoyance before turning behind to Yeseul.

“Did you make him drive?” Yeseul shakes her head and spills out her defensive explanation.

“Oppa called me up yesterday! He just said he needed my help to accompany you shopping for a dress!”

“Then, why is Bokgi here? Trying on dresses too?”

“Noona! I’m listening!” Joonhwi only laughs and shakes his head.

“He’s just accompanying me.” Joonhwi says as he begins to drive off.

Well, Joonhwi wasn't lying. He waited till their quizzes and projects were over before executing this. He knew Sol was busy, and had waited for the busy season to pass before calling Yeseul. He explained that he knew Sol would not go shop for a dress, and he needs her help to accompany him and her. She willingly, too willingly, agreed.

Next, he asked Sol B if he could borrow her car, knowing how Sol was not going to go home with just one dress and one pair of shoes when Yeseul was involved. Sol B was skeptical, but just passed the keys over to him. Besides, she was going to be in school studying all day; she didn’t need the car. Bokgi joined in, as Joonhwi couldn’t spend hours on end waiting for the ladies to shop. On further thought, Bokgi just might help him out with something.

“I could go myself with Yeseul. You didn’t have to wake up for this.” Sol mutters just loud enough for him to hear, fiddling with her fingers. Joonhwi returns with a light scoff.

“As if you’ll do it.” Sol glares at him from the side and is ready to punch him, but retracts her hand, knowing she might literally kill everyone in the car. The ride from the school to the bustling heart of Seoul is a rough twenty minute ride. Bokgi takes this time to catch a wink and Sol does the same, but she can't seem to do it.

Something about Joonhwi bringing her out to buy a dress specially made her heart flutter a bit more than usual. She knew that Joonhwi cared for her. The ways that he left rolls of gimbaps and energy drinks as opposed to coffee on her table during her tough days. The moments when he would offer his jacket as a pillow wordlessly when she wanted to rest her head after hours of studying. The unspoken synchronisation between them was just a showing of how they understood each other inside and out.

Sol thought nothing of it. She knew him as long as she stepped into school when he saved her from Professor Yang. They spent almost everyday studying, having classes and eating together. After all, they are best friends, and don’t best friends do this? They look out for each other, right?

He is going to be my plus-one at Jiyoon’s wedding. He’s taking me to shop for a dress.

Sol wonders, truly for the car ride as she stares outside at the blue skies and empty streets of Seoul, if Han Joonhwi meant more than friends to her. If… she wanted more.

Deep down, she couldn’t deny hoping for more. She liked the way he looked at her, eyes crinkled and smiling in half moons, the sweet smile that she couldn’t help but return. She has never had many relationships, considering her experience in school and afterwards. She was just too busy; too focussed. Seeing how this man cared for her just made her feel so… special.

She has never felt that way.

#original by akinosakiya #jtbc law school #law school #jtbc drama #jtbc #joonsola #kang sol a #kang sol a x han joon hwi #solhwi #han joon hwi #netflix #kdrama #wedding #ryu hye young #kim beom #kim bum

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aritany · 3 years

Note

Hello bestie I’ve been thinking about your answer from my other ask all day (thank you again) and I have one more question if you don’t mind!!

What are beta readers? Is it anyone who reads your book, or are beta readers, like, a profession? How much of a story can you share with people before publishing it (or even querying)? For some reason I have this fear that if I share my WIP with people, then I can’t publish it?? No idea why I think that. But then if that’s true, the concept of beta readers doesn’t make sense, right? Or is there a difference between sharing it in person (like with close friends) vs sharing it online? I assume posting it is straight up not allowed (cuz why would anyone buy it) but what about sharing it with online friends? But like, wasn’t 50 shades of grey posted online first as fanfic? God, all of this is so confusing.

Anyway thanks again, I’ve literally been wondering about this stuff for years and it’s SO hard to find people willing (or able) to answer!!!!

heya! no problem, happy to help out. i’ve got lots of pointers about this one!

Crash Course On Beta Reading

beta readers are any readers that read your book with the intention of pointing out areas that they think need work. they can be anybody with eyeballs, and you can use them at any point between drafts!

if this is your first novel, i recommend involving betas after your second or third draft. usually when you finish your first draft, you have some ideas of areas that could use work, and a lot of the editing is easy to do yourself.

betas will generally be comfortable giving feedback as long as you set the parameters for them. for example, i collect my beta readers using a google form and i let them choose whether they’d be most comfortable making suggestions through inline comments (i use google docs for betas), responding to a questionnaire at the end, or leaving their thoughts however suits them best.

you can absolutely let people beta read your book and still publish it. hell, i have a whole team of alpha readers who read as i am writing just for fun. i posted a whole novel on wattpad that i’ll probably publish someday. What Comes After had two rounds of beta readers and got a book deal without any issue, so i don’t think it’s something you need to be super worried about.

the publishing industry is only concerned about what you have put up for sale and how it performed. (that’s why agents and editors caution against self publishing before you go into traditional publishing. it’s dumb, but editors do look at sales on previous books of yours before they offer. it is a business, after all!) since beta readers receive the book for free, that’s not something you need to be concerned about. lots of successful authors use beta readers!

key things to remember if you’re giving your work to readers for the first time:

readers in your target demographic will give you the most relevant feedback

keep your expectations low. about 1/2 of the people i ask to beta read finish the book within the time frame i ask. don’t worry about that. as much as it feels like it, it’s not a reflection on you or your book. i wasted a lot of energy being angsty about this the first time i ever gave a book to betas

ask your friends, but be cautious about it! i recommend not asking your super close non-writer friends, because it can get pretty awkward to talk about if they don’t follow through

beta readers sometimes mutate into friends and it’s the best

99.9% of people who read your book would not dream of copying it, especially if your betas are writers. i know that seems counterintuitive but writers know how badly that would hurt

if you’re sold on beta reading and want to give it a try, i recommend asking around the writeblr community for people who will read. i’ve done it, and you can find some of my examples under the tag #beta call. feel free to tag me in beta call posts (this goes for everyone) & i will reblog them* to boost your engagement!

*note i will not do this on excerpts/wip intros if i’m not on the tag list, it’s uncomfortable to be randomly tagged in content and i most often will ignore it on principle, but i’m more than happy to do it for writeblr intros and beta calls!

i hope that answered some of your questions! cheers😊

#asks #beta reading #publishing #advice

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neon-junkie · 4 years

Text

Hey everyone,

This will be my final post addressing the fandom conflict that has quite frankly gotten out of hand. Although it’s very likely this post will be picked apart, no matter how well intended it is, I will no longer be addressing, interacting, or responding to any further accusations made against me. Of course, if people have questions from a genuine place of interest, I will be happy to clarify anything for you, either via DM’s or non-anon asks. I will not be answering anonymous asks on this, as I do not want anything else posted on this topic.

As a side note: For anyone tempted to wade into the debate, I sincerely ask you not to get involved. Do not make yourself a target, do not feel you need to ‘pick a side’, and please do not think you have an obligation to reason with either side. It seems to be well past the point of that, so please find people you get along with in this fandom and curate a space for yourself away from all this conflict.

Warning: This post will contain uncensored slurs, mentions of racism, paedophilia, transphobia, LGBTQ+ phobia, death threats, threats of violence, targeted harassment, and abusive language.

To start off, I want to apologise to everyone who has somehow gotten drawn into this mess by either defending me, following me, or interacting with my content. This whole situation with me began well over a year ago when I wrote a crack-smut fic featuring Javier/Micah, posted back in August 2019. A crack fic is defined as “a work of fan fiction that is absurd, surprising or ridiculous, often intentionally.” It was inspired by a camp interaction between Micah and Javier, and like many other fanfiction writers, I decided to write smut about it. The fic was titled ‘Dirty Fucking Greaser’, and if that shocks you, I’m sure you can imagine how shocked I was to be informed afterwards that ‘Greaser’ was in fact a very serious 19th century slur for a Mexican individual. My first encounter with this word as insult was via RDR2, where it was used like a very casual insult. My only prior knowledge of this term was in regards to the greasers youth subculture, so the severity was lost on me. This obviously does not excuse my ignorance, and I should have researched the term better, but this is just again to apologize for that oversight, the insensitivity, and to highlight that my use of this term was not meant maliciously. Following this being pointed out, I proceeded to make 3 separate apology posts [Unfortunately I can only find the third one: HERE], renamed the fic, and added slur warnings in both the tags and the fic description. When I continued to receive complaints and increasingly aggressive abuse (which included being told my apologies weren’t good enough and I should delete my account and even kill myself), I attempted to delete the fic and mistakenly abandoned it instead. I contacted AO3 to see if it could be removed, but they said there was nothing they could do. I contacted their DMCA takedown team, who also said they couldn't remove it. Please note that all this happened 7-8 months ago, and has been dragged on for almost a year.

So, from this one unfortunate incident, I’ve been branded a racist, and someone who attacks POC, when all I have done is tried to defend myself and correct my past mistakes. I could have done this more gracefully in the past, but frankly when you’re suddenly the target of unrelenting callout posts and nasty anons, it’s very hard to be open to criticism of this sort, but this is what I’m trying to move past.

Over the course of the year, this one mistake has spiralled, and the crusade against me has somehow coincided with moral conflicts over certain characters and ships. This has devolved into dehumanizing abuse, witch hunts, death threats, doxxing, anon hate, and much more unpleasant behaviour.

I have been in fandom for a very long time, and at the heart of all fandom circles is the fear of censorship and subsequent purges, so the ‘ship and let ship’ mentality was more or less the pinnacle of fandom philosophy. And yes, this can be problematic in some contexts. People have their right to be uncomfortable with content, have a right to be offended by content, but that is not content meant for you. This argument has devolved into ‘what material is morally right to engage with’ and that is a mentality in which fandom will not survive, because for every person who is telling me I’m an awful person for writing about Micah, there are three other people telling me how much they appreciate me making that content. For every fic in which I characterize Javier and Flaco a certain way, some people are made uncomfortable by it and others tell me they enjoy it. And this isn’t just white people, but POC too, which makes it very difficult to know whether I am genuinely in the right or the wrong, especially when it comes to the concept of ‘fetishization’ which I have been made aware I need to educate myself on. I intend to do so, but I disagree with the common accusation that finding non-white men romantically and sexually attractive is inherently fetishistic and makes me racist. It’s pushing a catch-22; don’t find POC sexually attractive? Racist. Find POC sexually attractive? Racist.

I am always willing to be (politely) approached about anything my readers may be concerned about, but if it’s something I’ve specifically tagged for (such as themes, scenarios, etc.) I’m afraid you consented to reading it and with that I cannot help you. You are just as responsible for curating your space and what you see/read just as much as I am responsible for tagging it appropriately.

On the topic of racism, I want to bring up my prior use of ‘white racism’ which has obviously been a point of contention among both white and people of colour. The (literal) black vs white concept of racism is incredibly American-centric, and as someone from Europe, which has a history of oppression against white cultures and those of people of colour, it feels inaccurate. However, this has recently been discussed with me and I came to the realization that while growing up, especially in the UK, ‘xenophobia’ and ‘racism’ were marketed as one and the same. So, with this little revelation in mind, I will no longer be using ‘white racism’ (Or ‘reverse racism’) to identify the abuse I have been receiving, but will instead call it by what it really is; dehumanizing, debasing, xenophobic, puritanical.

Very briefly, I will also touch on the NewAustin situation, which has also been dredged into this. I did not ‘chase a POC from tumblr’. NA was a minor who for some reason was on my 18+ blog and took issue with me, likely from the ongoing discourse regarding my fic and initial mistake, as well as my interest in Micah. They were subsequently harassed into deleting their account by anonymous hate following various conflicts with other users for their support of me or their ships in general. I have never encouraged my followers to target anyone, and have always asked to be blocked and blacklisted by those who do not like me or my content. When NewAustin messaged me following the deletion of their blog, I was admittedly indifferent to the point of being unkind, and accused them of sending the hate themselves. This was based on the anon hate being racially-driven without there being any prior knowledge or publication that NA was a person of colour. This aside, I should have at the time, whether I believed it was my followers or not, condemned this behaviour. Regardless of the issues I’ve had with these people, it is never ever ok to send hate to anyone, no matter the motivation behind it, and that should have been stated at the time.

All I can do at this point is acknowledged and apologize for my past mistakes, and try to improve myself going forward.

It is not my place to dictate the morals of the character/ship-aspect of this argument, and I am not interested in waging a war of opinion. This post is simply to clarify how I am involved in this, and why I am so viscerally targeted. You can draw your own conclusions, but I am no longer interested in this endless back and forth.

To my mutuals/followers, I stand by my request to not interact and to block and move on, as this is what I’ll be doing too.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope it makes things from my perspective a little clearer.

-RAT <3

EDIT: Just after this post was made, the fic in question was finally removed. I had to go through a DMCA take down, which can take months, since I originally abandoned the fic, thinking that meant delete. I explain this in more detail above. Said fic is gone, and has been gone since this post has been around.

#the tea #apology #long post

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Note

WOAH WOAH is your MHA reqs open?? So I wanted to request a Todoroki x Reader Angst where Todoroki sees his s/o getting stabbed by a villain with countless sharp spears like in Chiaki’s death video in danganronpa along with 1-A and just loses it? I’m sorry I’m craving for angst rn ✨✨ also love your writing and remember to stay safe <33 💕💗

My requests are open yes!! I have actually missed receiving them (and tbf I’m prolly not getting them because I’m doing daily updates on History of Us hahaha). So thanks for the request anon. I’m also really touched that you love my writing 🥰 I hope this lives up to your impression of me!

I had never seen danganropa but I just looked up what you were talking about and w o w I am in ✨pain✨ 🥲 I’ve got you anon. It’s going to hurt but I got you. Did I drag out (y/n)’s last words? Yes. Would they realistically already have died before saying all that I have them say? Probably. But this is fanfic and if movie writers can do it then goddamn it so can I!

CW for angst, somewhat graphic description of major character injury and death (reader), non-major character death, and canon typical violence

Nothing has been the same since the fall of the hero commission and the loss of faith in the Symbol of Peace’s generation of heroes. It’s been two years since Shigaraki wreaked havoc and Dabi exposed Endeavor’s crimes. As pros unused to that level of violence retired or quit, hero class students have been forced to step up and fill in the spaces they left behind. As a result, even as their faith in the pros waned, the public started to see the students as a beacon of hope. All Might, they whisper, spoiled the current generation of heroes. They argue that Endeavor is now too old to keep up, that Hawks and Mirko are too burdened by their mentors’ failures, and all the heroes aged in between are too used to the relative peace of the golden era to be effective. These current students though? Students like the famous UA hero class A, now third years who’ve already seen so much? They are the new hope. They’d grown up in the fires of a post-symbol of peace era and as such they are the only ones who can drag society out of it. It would be flattering if not for the overwhelming pressure that comes along with it.

Shoto thinks he would have been crushed beneath that pressure if not for you.

The two of you had started growing close your first year during the provisional license exam make up classes. Spending so much additional time together over the weekend had allowed Shoto to slowly open up to you until a beautiful friendship had blossomed. Even still, both of you had secretly yearned for something more. It was only after the destruction of Jaku City and the Todoroki family secrets were aired to the whole of Japan that the two of you finally acted on your feelings. You’d been such a source of support for him afterwards that eventually he hadn’t been able or willing to hold back any longer and had confessed his feelings to you late one night in the dorms. The two of you have been together ever since and fully intend to open a hero agency together after graduation. He knows the two of you are still young but sometimes when he looks at you with your blinding smile or when you’re sleeping peacefully beside him, he swears he can hear wedding bells. If the civilians of Japan can consistently forget how young you all are as they urge you to take over for the pros, then it seems only fair he should be able to forget too.

His mother was ecstatic when he asked her about engagement rings. Endeavor had said it was too early, that marriage is too large a commitment to make at 18 years old, but Shoto insisted and eventually a compromise was reached. He’ll wait until after graduation but then he’s determined to make you his forever and always.

It’s an otherwise normal Saturday afternoon in the dorms when Iida and Momo get an urgent distress signal to gather the entirety of the class and head into the city. A large group of ragtag criminals, determined to become the next League of Villains, is terrorizing Musutafu and the number of casualties is climbing rapidly. The other heroes usually responsible for that area had been called away to handle a different disaster and all attempts made by the civilians to defend themselves had only led to more chaos. The entire class mobilized in seconds. Calls like this aren’t uncommon now. The villains have been banding together more and their bloodlust seems to have grown exponentially with civilians’ continued lack of trust in the current pros. By the time you all arrive to the scene there’s no time to waste. “Be careful,” you tell Shoto, carefully running a hand through his hair before resting it on his cheek. He brings his hand up to cover yours before promising, “I will.” He presses a kiss to your palm but before he can do more Bakugo sharply barks “Hurry it up lovebirds we got a fucking job to do!” before racing off. You both know he’s right. “I love you,” you tell Shoto. “Love you too,” he promises before you both steel yourselves and then take off into the fray.

It’s an absolutely grueling battle. Every time someone takes one villain down, another comes to take their place. “Pinky! On your left!” you call out, causing your classmate to sharply turn. Mina just manages to dodge a punch one of the villains throws her way and swiftly counteracts with an attack of her own, calling out a thanks. There’s no time to breathe though and almost as soon as you’re done warning Mina, you have to dive in to keep another villain off Ojiro’s back. It’s chaotic but slowly you’re starting to pick away the forces as many of the remaining villains start fleeing. Once it looks like they’ve all retreated you instinctively look for Shoto, having not seen him since the fighting had properly started. You catch sight of him and heave a sigh of relief. You call out his name to catch his attention and although he initially offers you a soft smile you notice his eyes suddenly widen. “(Y/n) behind you!” he calls out.

Every moment after that seems to happen in slow motion.

You turn around just in time for a spear to fire clean through your shoulder, knocking you off balance. You start to fall backwards but before you can even hit the ground at least a dozen more rise up from the asphalt and impale your body. You hear Shoto’s broken cry of your name but it sounds so distant to you. After a moment stuck in place the spears suddenly drop back into the ground. Shoto is next to you in a second, pulling your broken body close as you bleed out. One of your other classmates tries to call for medical support but all he can focus on is you and the sheer amount of blood you’re losing. Shoto knows his training. He knows that when a victim has been stabbed it’s crucial to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, but how can he when there’s so many fucking wounds. “You’re going to be ok. You’re going to be ok. You’re going to be ok.” He says it over and over again like a mantra. It’s both a plea to you and a desperate attempt to deny the harsh reality that the love of his life is bleeding out in his arms.

You press a bloody hand to his cheek, looking lovingly up at the man you’d do anything for, and shush him quietly. “Sho,” you rasp, voice already weak as your body tries and fails to cope with your injuries. “Don’t,” he warns. “Sho, baby, look at me,” you try again but he shakes his head, shutting his eyes tightly as tears start to run down his cheeks. “Please?” you ask and he can’t deny you, never could, so he opens his eyes and looks down at your glossy ones as you fight to stay awake just a little bit longer. “There they are. I always did love your eyes,” you tell him wistfully as your thumb strokes his cheek, smearing your blood there, though you don’t seem to notice. “You can’t leave me. You have to be ok,” he whispers but you shake your head. You can already feel yourself fading and with medical attention still several minutes out at least you know there’s no fixing this. “I need you to promise me something,” you tell him. “Anything,” he replies immediately and it brings a sad smile to your blood stained lips. “Promise you’ll find someone else after me,” you say and the scandalized look on his face would have probably made you laugh under different circumstances. “You’ve got too much love to give to let it die with me,” you tell him but he shakes his head again. “I could never love anyone else like I love you,” he swears and he means it with every fiber of his being. You chuckle wetly. “You always were stubborn. Fine, then promise to never forget me,” you compromise, tears welling in your own eyes now too. “I couldn’t even if I tried,” he swears before leaning down to press one last kiss to your lips. He can taste the tang of iron and feel your tears and his mingling on your cheeks. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips as he pulls away, but for the first time since he first said the words to you, you don’t say them back. “(Y/n)? Baby, I love you,” he tries again, pulling back to look at you properly now. Your eyes remain shut, your hand falling limp from his cheek, and when he looks to your chest the rise and fall of it has ceased.

Devastation claws up through him like a rabid animal, tearing him apart as his whole world shatters around him. He feels his grief like a physical ache in his chest, radiating out to each of his limbs as if every cell of his body is violently rejecting the fact that you’re gone. “Todoroki-kun?” Midoriya asks cautiously, putting a gentle hand on Shoto’s shoulder. Shoto’s head snaps up as he cradles you closer, as if scared your body will be taken away from him too. Before Midoriya can say whatever he was going to, Denki’s voice cuts through the tense silence. “I got him!” he crows, shoving the villain down to the ground in front of his classmates. Shoto’s eyes land on the villain and instantly his grief twists into a searing rage. He gently lays your body down but his eyes are cold and lethal as he stares down the man that took you away from him. Midoriya realizes what’s happening a beat too late and by the time he reaches out to grab Shoto, the grief stricken man has already launched himself at the villain and grasped hold of him. His right hand closes around the man’s throat, ice wrapping around it like a vice grip. He’s vaguely aware of his classmates calling his name but he doesn’t care. This man stole the love of his life from him. For that he will pay. Before Todoroki can finish the job he’s suddenly being yanked back by Midoriya and Bakugo. “Let go of me!” he demands as he fights against their hold, ignoring their warnings and empty platitudes. He manages to wrench his left arm free for a brief moment and that’s all he needs. His flames shoot out, preventing Midoriya from getting a good hold of him again, and the man who murdered you goes up in flame. His howls of pain echo around the buildings around them but the sound is music to Shoto’s ears. Let him suffer. It’s a fate he deserves.

His classmates watch on in stunned horror until the villain is burned down to ash. As his flames die out so too does all the fight seem to drain from Shoto as the crushing grief returns. Bakugo let’s him go once it’s clear he’s not a threat anymore and Shoto uses his freedom to drag himself back over to your lifeless body. It’s not fair. You’re so young. He’s so young. Why was this fight even you all’s responsibility in the first place? He’s been excitedly planning his proposal to you for weeks. Now he’ll have to plan a funeral. The thought makes him physically ill and he has to turn to the side as bile climbs up his throat and he retches onto the asphalt beside him.

How is he supposed to go on without you?

Midoriya returns a hand to his shoulder as the paramedics finally arrive. It’s too late. Far too late. One of them approaches cautiously and like a dog protecting his master Shoto immediately lashes out. “Don’t you fucking touch them,” he warns, eyes cold and voice lethal. The paramedic jerks backwards, his hands up in surrender, as he cautiously looks to the other class A students for advice. They have none. They’ve never seen Todoroki like this. They can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through. It’s Eijirou who steps up in the end. He approaches Shoto carefully, as if his classmate is a feral animal, before kneeling down to his level. “They need to take (y/n) to the hospital on that stretcher over there,” Kirishima tells him carefully, jerking his head in the direction of the waiting ambulance. “Can you carry them there for the paramedics?” he asks. Shoto stares at Kirishima blankly as if trying to process his words before slowly nodding. “Ok. Let’s go then, yea?” Kiri asks. Another nod in response before Shoto carefully gathers you into his arms. He ignores the way your body has already started to go cold as he carries you over to the stretcher. He tries to pretend they’re just rushing you to the hospital, that they’re speeding you over to recovery girl and in a few hours time you’ll be tired but cheery, teasing him for being so worried about nothing. But as he lays you down and then watches them zip you up into a black bag, he knows it’s a hopeless fantasy. You’re gone and you’re never coming back.

A few days later he sits in a black suit with a black tie and a silver chain carrying an engagement ring around his neck. He leans against Fuyumi, who sits on his left side, while his mother grasps tightly onto his right hand. Behind him Natsuo rests a steady hand on his shoulder. His father hovers nearby, unsure how best to offer his support or if his support would even be welcome. They are the only thing that keeps Shoto from falling apart. When the time comes, he stands on shaky legs and approaches your open casket. At first he’d been insistent he wouldn’t look, but his mother had argued his last image of you shouldn’t be your broken body, riddled with holes. So he looks down at you, pieced back together by some mortician, lying motionless in the nicest outfit you own and he traces every detail of you. He tries to patch over the memory of you broken on the ground that haunts him every night since it’s happened with this image of you now. He pictures all of the good and beautiful moments you’ve shared together, let’s them swell in his chest until they’re too large to contain and pour out of him through his silent tears. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your too cold forehead and mumbles to you again his final promise:

“I love you, (y/n). I’ll never forget you.”

#this hurt me so fucking bad to write oh my godddd #it’s so long too oh man I really said ‘you want pain? I’ll give you pain’#🤡🤡🤡#anyway even though it hurt I loved writing this #thanks for the request anon #hhrequests #shoto x y/n #todoroki x y/n #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki

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thesaltminesrph · 3 years

Text

PSA: Be Upfront

Communication is important in RP.

Now, to preface, I am not going to use the really awful phrase "it's a hobby not a jobby" because this is a really sketch take on what is important to people. You can have a hobby mean a lot to you, be you a collector, a gardener, someone that builds model airplanes, a writer, an artist, etc. Those are all hobbies, and the fruits of your labor are NOT only valuable to you and others if you are paid for them. This saying implies that should you never be a published author, never have a painting sell, never do something that can be sold or have a time clock punched, it doesn’t at all matter. It’s a really discouraging thing to be telling people, quite honestly. I have multiple hobbies outside of RP. Kind of really sucks to see constantly they don’t matter because nobody pays me for what I do. I know I’m not the only one who has said this, but the majority aren’t willing to say it amongst the clamoring of ‘rp isn’t a job’ because then you get people jumping down your throat. Hear me out though! I’m not done.

“BUT I HAVE REAL LIFE!”

Yes! So do we all! We all have problems, and things to take care of. The RPC is littered with people with mental illness, neurodivergence, chronic physical illness (I hit all three categories multiple times, LUCKY ME!). Do not, I repeat, do not ever feel like you need to put RP before: bills, marriage/children/other relationships, your health. Literally, do not have your takeaway from this post be these are secondary to your hobby. They are not. Do not get evicted because you were too busy doing RP at your desk at work, that’s just plain dumb af.

You owe people decency means:

-if you can only do aesthetic posts this week because you are low on writing spoons, that’s fine

-if you had work/health/mother-in-law take over you life this week and you literally didn’t have time to log-in even though you wanted to, that’s fine

-if you are sick in bed and can’t bother to write, that’s fine

What it also means:

-dropping what was supposedly a years long ooc friendship because the other mun isn’t dropping their current muse for you and following you into a different fandom ‘because they’re now boring’ and telling them as much in a message...is shitty behavior.

-daily reblogging multiple memes that people are sending in to you, your wire, your discord, ignoring both those and messages to plot, then whining on the dash that no one wants to write with you (also known as trying to guilt trip interaction, obviously you only wanted it from one specific person not the people actively engaging you)...is shitty behavior.

-claiming you’re open for plots and memes, then only replying to the one or two people consistently for 6 months...is shitty behavior.

Again, in case it wasn’t clear- it’s your blog, it’s your life, it’s your health. That’s not in question.

HOWEVER- be upfront and give people some honesty! What do I mean by that?

If it’s feasible, post that you need a writing break, even if it’s going to be indefinite. Take as many fucking breaks as you need to for your physical and mental health to be the best they can be (I’m not going to say great, as I know what it’s like to just have a ‘good’ health day mean ‘it’s less shit than it could be’).

But if the situation is really you only want to write with these one or two people, just say so! It’s your blog, you’re allowed to decide you’re closed for plots, asks, etc. Just don’t lead people on. Don’t say something and mean something else. Don’t keep reblogging your promo and really you don’t want to write, and you don’t plan on taking on new mutuals, and don’t plan on replying to dms or threads from anyone else.

I’ll repeat it a little differently to be sure it’s clear- you dictate your activity level and number of mutuals, when you answer asks, threads, etc. This should be at a level that is suited for you and your life, health, etc.

BUT when you engage in RP you are involving someone else’s free time with yours, and it is not fair to them to act like they do not matter. You have involved someone else. Until you disengage from them, be courteous.

I’ll give you an example. When you ask for that starter on both your dash, then DMs, and act super hyped, getting the other mun excited for it, and then they put the time and effort into writing it up and posting it for you, expecting a reply? Only for you to go and make new blogs and immediately ditch that muse without a heads-up? That’s not really fair to the other mun. You communicated you wanted to write this, you hyped them up, they spent their time and writing spoons on your starter...and then you told them other people were more exciting and a better use of your time.

“BUT I DIDN’T TELL THEM THAT!”

Okay, so you didn’t message them ‘Hey loser, your starter sucked, your muse is boring, and honestly, a different fandom is better! Bye!’ But your actions sure give that impression, and unless you communicate otherwise, it’s a shitty move.

Now yes, sometimes you genuinely forget a starter was written because you thought it was drafted and it wasn’t, dumblr is an ass and loses your draft and then you forgot it, something came up that day and bumped it from your mind, etc. NONE OF THESE ARE WHAT I AM REFERRING TO. I have ADHD, object permanence is the thing my brain does where often unless it’s directly in front of my face, it doesn’t exist, until I find it again. I’m aware these things happen, as are most muns, and we don’t mind! Hell, we usually have in our rules “hey if it’s been a hot minute and we haven’t replied to this, feel free to give us a little nudge to see if it’s been lost” because we all know between brains and dumblr’s everlasting fuckery...shit gets lost.

I’m talking about those times where you just up and leave someone hanging without communication. I’m also not saying it might even be on purpose. What I’m saying is you should consider how other muns feel when you do this, and if you cannot avoid it, at least communicate with them.

“Hey, I’m just no longer going to be writing this muse. Sorry I had you write that starter. Do you want to try something with this new one? This is where my brain is at right now.” “Hey I really can’t be online this month thanks to fill-in-the-blank but I do still want to write when I am able.” “Hey, I see you sent in that ask. I’m only interested in this one ship, and I won’t be taking on new threads, but you’re welcome to follow and maybe I’ll take on new threads later. I’m just writing with these two people right now.”

Communication is something that is a requirement in a collaborative hobby.

I know it can be scary. I know the mentality ‘well they reblogged that meme but it’s not for me, I know they said they want to plot but they don’t mean me’, but you really have to get past that when you roleplay to be fair to other people.

Spoiler alert: the examples of shitty behavior further above are what help feed this ‘that post/meme isn’t for me’ mentality, when you do those things you’re fostering people’s anxiety and rejection sensitivity...just saying.

If someone gets mad at you for communicating with them, they’re a shitty person and block them. Literally if someone has a problem with you for trying to start something, especially as mutuals, you’re losing nothing by not writing with them. Find nicer people. So don’t be afraid to communicate you can’t write currently, you need a break, you’re only writing with these certain people. And don’t be afraid to send in the meme. I promise you, the right people appreciate courteous communication. The ones that don’t...

Again, no one is saying put your life on hold for RP, you’re never allowed to narrow your scope, you’re supposed to always have writing spoons, you need to produce five replies a day or you’re wrong, you always need to log-in to communicate you had a family emergency/depressive episode/etc.

What I am saying, is if you are capable of communicating, respect the time and energy of your fellow muns who may also be very low on spoons and free time themselves, and be honest about where you are at when it comes to taking on new threads, new asks, new partners, etc. Treat others how you want to be treated, and consider you probably wouldn’t like being on the receiving end of the behaviors I’ve described. If you need to be on the clock being paid to be a nice person...please re-evaluate.

#rp help #rph #roleplay psa #rp psa #rpc psa #rp etiquette #general etiquette

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