#I know playing instruments may or may not count as a craft

[99corentine]

How To Write Good by Corentine

THE DRAFTING PROCESS, PART 1/2

Hello, people were interested in some writing tips by me so I, uh, sort of kind of cranked out a writing guide in a few hours. I’m not sure if this will be a very comprehensive or helpful guide but let’s give it a try!

⭐ Starting disclaimers: Please remember as with all things that my method is not necessarily the best method, everyone is different and over time you’ll find your own process.

I write romance, so my advice is skewed towards writing that and I’m not sure how helpful it will be for gen fic. I publish fanfic chapter by chapter to AO3 so it’s also skewed to someone doing the same, not someone writing a full novel they want to get published. 

I’m going to be using GOL HAH DOV (GHD) for writing examples because, well, it’s a finished longfic so it’s as good a reference as any, but obviously GHD is not everyone’s cup of tea. I’ll also occasionally reference Tooth for a Tooth (T4T) which apologies is very far from finished, but the Baldur’s Gate 3 fandom is vastly different to the Skyrim one, so it’s useful to cross-compare them.

Also worth bearing in mind: I have been writing fanfiction since I was about 13, and I’m now 33. That’s 20 years of experience. Do you know what I wrote when I was 13? Hot garbage. Writing is a learned skill that, much like playing a musical instrument or learning literally any other craft, you must put time and effort into to improve.

However although ‘practice makes perfect’ is fundamentally true, that’s also kind of lame advice. So here is what I personally do, which may be helpful in figuring out what you want to do. 

STEP ONE: YOU NEED AN IDEA FIRST DUMMY

Think of a fic idea. Probably you have lots of vague ideas. As I’m trying to turn something from a daydream into an actual writing project, I tend to ask myself these questions:

⭐Who is it about?⭐

Pick your pairing, romantic or otherwise. Think about what you like about the character and what traits you want to emphasise in your writing. If you’re writing about fan character x fan character, what makes them go well together? What causes tension between them?

If you’re writing fan character x original character, do remember that your readers are here for the fan character, not for your OC. There is no getting around this, your OC is not what brings people to the fic. GHD’s Chrysanthe was largely intended as a blank slate, quite literally, I made him an amnesiac because the point of the story was Miraak not Chrysanthe. 

Over time I was able to shape him into something more distinctive (softly-spoken, stoic, paladin-like, secret tricksy side only Miraak brings out, gets more dragon-like as the story progresses) but that was a gradual thing. Your readers will hopefully come to love your OC as you do, but it takes time for them to get invested. I’m very grateful that people did come to root for Chrysanthe – but make no mistake, if the story had no Miraak in it, people wouldn’t be reading it. Your OC is always a vehicle for the fan character.

⭐What are the overarching themes of the story?⭐

A cohesive story has a theme that repeats throughout, and picking one early on will let you write with that theme in mind. As an example, the themes of GHD are:

Soulmates / we were destined to meet each other

There’s no-one else like me / you and I are the only real ones here

One’s a hero one’s a villain

Zero to hero / hero becomes progressively more badass

Redemption arc but the villain is never fully redeemed – for GHD this turned into the repetition of Miraak’s theme he’ll never be pure but for you he’ll try and later Chrysanthe’s I love you exactly as you are

Your own themes might be something like best friends who don’t realise they’ve been in love this whole time or can’t live with you can’t live without you. Tropes count towards this too, so something like soulmates, Modern Coffee Shop AU, hanahaki, all of that stuff is a story theme.

⭐What does this fic do that other fics like it don’t?⭐

GOL HAH DOV was sort of easy mode in this regard because there aren’t many fics featuring Miraak at all, so writing anything was already doing something different. Of those existing fics, I wanted to see more where Miraak was evil and scary, and you should be the change you want to see in the world (of fanfic), so I decided to write it myself. I get a lot of comments on Miraak’s personality, so I assume this is mostly what makes GHD stand out!

I’ll use T4T as a contrasting example, because Skyrim is old and Miraak is niche, but Baldur’s Gate 3 is new/popular and Astarion is a fan favourite. That means there’s a veritable sea of fic about him, so what can you write that will stand out from the many, many other fics out there? It doesn’t have to be the only one of its kind or anything, but it does need to have something special about it.

You’ll want to either go for a strong theme or trope (i.e. soulmates, magical spell curse, we’re both monsters), or change the setting (canon divergence, ‘what if X happened instead?’, or even outright alternate universe and a brand new plot). Personally, I choose to follow the source material but go off-script. I gotta say, nothing makes me sadder than seeing plot and dialogue lifted straight from a game with zero changes made to it. That’s a personal preference obviously, but I think if you write a fic it should strive to do something different to the rest.

⭐Do I have enough enthusiasm to finish it?⭐

This is more applicable to longfic, but you really need to be in love with a story to see it through to the end. Be realistic with yourself, how much free time and energy you have – if you start it, do you think you can finish it?

I have a whole planning process (detailed later) and sometimes I start planning out an idea just to realise I don’t really have the enthusiasm to actually write the whole thing. This is fine! Even just planning is still a writing exercise, and it might spark some different ideas.

Once you have your idea, and you’re confident you’re going to actually write it… then for the love of all that is holy, do not share it in detail with anyone. You can pitch an idea to see if people will be interested but if you go into specifics about story events or certain scenes? You basically get the endorphins from having ‘created’ it, only you haven’t actually created it, and now you’ve had the chemical pay-off you probably never will. Keep your ideas to yourself until you’ve actually written them.

STEP TWO: WRITE THAT DOWN

In terms of writing software, I use Scrivener, which is a paid-for software but is not subscription based (I wouldn’t pay continually for software unless I was reliably writing every day, and sometimes I go ages without being in the mood to write). Scriv’s word processor isn’t the most intuitive thing, but I like its organisation features. This is what a work in progress looks like for me:

That’s essentially a folder (the story) containing a bunch of word documents (the chapters). You could break it down even further and have a chapter folder with each document being individual scenes, then stitch it together later - if writing is a daunting process for you, it’s useful to break it down into small, manageable chunks. You can do this in other software obviously, I just find Scrivener the most visually pleasing.

Set up your writing document, and let’s get to planning what we’re actually going to write!

...Apparently tumblr has a word limit I've exceeded, so I'll write the next bit separately. Here's PART TWO.

[pinchofhoney]

Hi!! How are you doing? I wanted to send in a request for your celebration, please!! But first, congratulations for this milestone!! Ot's amazing!! 🥳 I would like to make a fluffy request for Ben Barnes with prompt n°2 in the fluff list (the one with the playlist). I don't have a plot or anything of the kind, but as we know how important music is for Ben, and that he often makes playlists (for his roles for example), I thought it would suit him. I hope you feel inspired by this idea. I hope you have a nice day, and congratulations again!!! 💕

if only my heart had a voice # 200 follower special event

» prompt event » special events masterlist

fluff prompt two: “make me a playlist sometime, will you?”

credits to ben barnes and his 2021 instagram story

ben barnes x reader

word count: 1.5k

warning: none, just another fluff, no use of y/n

summary: Music has the power to tap into our memories and stir up deep-seated emotions. And the beauty of it is that each time we hear a song, it can bring back those same memories and feelings as vividly as the first time we experienced them.

a/n: hello<33 i'm great, thank you! i hope you're doing great too and the upcoming weekend will be the good one!! thank you for your request, i hope you will be satisfied enough with what i have prepared and that the level of sweetness is just right for a fluff queen<3 and if not, i hope the video i found will melt your heart so much that what i wrote will no longer matter

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @myladydarkling @alexxavicry

The chilly evening had settled in, with the frosty breath of winter creeping in through every nook and cranny of the cozy house. You sat perched on the soft leather stool at your boyfriend's grand piano, your fingers tentatively hovering over the ivory keys. You were wrapped in a fluffy, knitted blanket that had been lovingly crafted by your mother, with its comforting weight enveloping you with warmth.

The fire in the nearby hearth crackled and sputtered, throwing sparks and shadows onto the walls of the room. The flickering flames illuminated the piano in a warm and inviting glow, casting dancing shadows across the polished wood of the instrument.

The room was filled with a plenty of comforting details. Starting with soft and cozy throw rug, which was spread out in front of the fireplace, inviting you to curl up on it and bask in the warmth of the fire, a nearby shelf stacked with an assortment of books and ending with a collection of photographs from your travels with Ben, adorning the walls with captured cherishing memories and moments frozen in time.

But your attention was focused on the piano, and the notes that Ben had taught you the previous night. With a deep breath, you began to play, trying not to make any mistakes and the sound of the piano filled the room and bring a sense of comfort and peace.

The keys felt cool and smooth beneath your fingertips, the weight of each note echoing through the room. Unfortunately, you weren't as skilled at playing the piano as you had hoped to be. Every now and then, your fingers would stumble over the keys, causing you to furrow your brow in frustration. Your perfectionist nature demanded immediate success, but the intricacies of the music proved to be a challenge, especially for a person like you who had never really been in touch with the piano.

You let out a defeated sigh, feeling overwhelmed and discouraged. But just as you were about to give up, you heard the sound of Ben's footsteps approaching. He entered the living room, carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, the rich aroma of cocoa and marshmallows filling the air.

“Hey there,” he said with a warm smile, placing the mugs on a small table nearby. He sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “How's the practicing going?”

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, shaking your head in mild embarrassment. “Don't act as if you haven't heard that sound of failure,” you said, feeling a sense of comfort as you leaned into his embrace.

Ben responded with a soft laughter, his arms tightening around you. “Don't be so hard on yourself, love,” he reassured you. “Learning to play an instrument takes time and practice. You're doing great, and you'll get there.”

You let out a deep sigh, feeling a sense of impatience with your progress. “But I want to be there now,” you muttered, poking out your lower lip in frustration.

“Has anyone ever told you before that you're impatient?” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You've only been playing for a week, my dear. Give yourself some time.”

You couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone, feeling a sense of warmth spread through your body. Ben always had a way of making you feel better, even when you were feeling frustrated or down.

“Maybe I would have been better at it if my teacher wasn't so distracting,” you teased playfully, poking his side.

“Excuse me?” Ben's eyes widened in mock surprise. “Now it's my fault?” he asked in a playful tone, his lips curling up into a smile.

A sense of warmth enveloped you as you lifted your head to kiss Ben's jawbone, which was easily within reach from the way you were seated. There was something about being with him that made even the simplest of moments feel special. It was as if the world around you melted away, leaving just the two of you in a warm, cozy bubble.

After a peaceful moment of silence, with only the sounds of the fireplace crackling in the background, Ben asked with a smile, “Would you like to hear me play something?”

“Anything you like,” you replied, feeling the tender weight of his kiss on your head before he moved his hand away to make him more comfortable to play.

You scooted back a bit, tucking the blanket more tightly around you as though the room had suddenly grown colder without his closeness.

“Well?” Ben prompted, fingers poised above the keys.

You shrugged, unable to hide the grin on your face. You knew that anything he played would sound beautiful to you, and you savored each and every note that he brought to life on the piano. “Maybe something that reminds you of?”

Ben's eyes crinkled at the corners as he considered your request, his fingers dancing over the keys. Slowly, a familiar melody filled the room, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and let the music wash over you. It was the same song that had been playing on the radio during your first date, and the memories it brought back made you smile.

The notes seemed to transport you to another world, easing your worries and soothing your soul. The warmth of the room, the soft embrace of the blanket, and the gentle light from the flickering hearth cocooned you in a peaceful bubble.

After a moment, you opened your eyes and looked over at Ben. His eyes were closed, and he was completely lost in the music. The way his fingers moved effortlessly over the keys created a beautiful symphony, and you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of admiration and love for him. You noticed the way the firelight danced across his face, highlighting the features that you loved so much, and you felt grateful to be sharing this moment with him. There was no place you wanted to be more than here. With Ben.

As the melody came to an end, you let out a soft sigh, feeling as if you had just woken up from a beautiful dream. You looked back at Ben and saw that he was looking at you, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. “I love you,” you said what the first thing that popped into your head.

A small smile formed on Ben's lips as he heard your words. He reached out and took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I love you too, more than anything in this world,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. You leaned in to give him a soft kiss, feeling more in love with him than ever before. As you snuggled up to him again, you felt a deep sense of joy, knowing that you were the luckiest woman in the world to have him in your life.

As you settled back into the cozy atmosphere, you thought of something that had been on your mind for a while. “Hey, make me a playlist sometime, will you?” you asked, looking up at Ben.

He looked a bit confused, as if he didn't understand why you were asking this all of a sudden. “A playlist?” he repeated.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I don't know why you haven't done it yet. I’d love to have the songs that you associate with me. With us. I think it would be nice to always have them with me.”

A smile spread across Ben's face as he understood your request. “Of course, love,” he said, leaning in to give you a loving kiss on the forehead. “I'll make you the most special playlist you've ever heard.”

You snuggled into him even more, feeling his warmth enveloping you. “You know, there are some songs that always remind me of you,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Like the one we danced to in my trailer when you visited me on the set,” he chuckled as he recollected the moment. “Or that one we listened to on our picnic date while watching the sunset.”

You smiled at the memories that flooded your mind. “Yes, I remember,” you replied, feeling a sense of nostalgia mixed with happiness.

Ben reached for his phone and began scrolling through his music library. “Let's start with this one,” he said, pressing play on a song that you had never heard before. The music that filled the room stirred up emotions within you, and though you didn't recognize the song, it felt as if it was crafted for you and Ben alone. As you listened, you couldn't help but wonder about the other songs that Ben associated with your relationship, those that held a special place in his heart and reminded him of you every time he heard them.

As the night went on, Ben played song after song, each one more beautiful and meaningful than the last. And as you listened, you knew that this playlist would always hold a special place in your heart, a reminder of the love and happiness that you shared with the most important person in your life.

[sylwanin-was-right]

Tbh it bothers me how much Avatar media claims that the Na'vi are not technologically advanced. In the Survival Guide, its explicitly stated the Na'vi have "no technology" in the introduction, which is just completely false.

Bows and arrows may not be as complex as machine guns and AMP suits regarding parts, assembly, and operation, but they are certainly feats of technological innovation that take skill to craft, use, and maintain properly, not to mention intelligence to create. Not only do the Na'vi have weapons for hunting and sparing, they have other technology, too, that suits their neolithic, tho complex and diverse civilizations, including but not limited to: hammoks, looms, musical instruments, storage containers and structures, torches (and other lighting tech, like "bladder lanterns"), saddles and carriers.

Im not sure how much clothing counts as technology, but there are elements to their attitre that required fabric and design technology to create, and also incorperate multi use elements that are characteristuc of technology's aim to be tools of aid, like Mo'at's head band functioning as a dagger carrier and Neytiri's insect wing glasses functioning as a decorative headband, a visor, and protective goggles.

I personally feel iffy about using "primitive" to describe Na'vi technology, because while its technically accurate, the Indigenous-coded design and role thr Na'vi play in the film makes that term easy to misconstrue and exploit. And I think theres precedent of that in the idea that the Na'vi have "no technology" just because its not modern, electric, plastic, motor, and metal based technology human beings now rely on (and just because it made for an easier foil in the story's technology critical themes). Technology requires immense cognitive intelligence and capability to innovate, operate, maintain, an replicate tools to facilitate a task it can be used for, so for Avatar media to claim the Na'vi have no technology makes troubling implication about the intelligence of the Na'vi as "people", and whether or not they spontaniously or naturally crafted the tools they use with genuine intention and intelligence.

The Noble Savage trope is just too embedded in the franchise at this point. And I worry that all the spiritual elements biologically incorperated into the lore (like queue communication) are excuses to justify the idea that the Na'vi are "simple" creatures that only know of harmony because theyre not human beings (iykwim 😬).

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Fairest Midnight - 17. New to this World

Summary: Staring was putting it mildly when you thought of how the vampires all watched as you danced with Vil at their ball. But this would soon become an evening that frequently lingered in your mind.

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1773

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

My hand rested lightly on Vil’s shoulder as the strings of the instrument signaled the beginning of a dance. A slower one, lilting as it filled the air with the almost nostalgic sounding music.

 My entire body was stiff as he began to lead me through the steps of the dance, and I was idly aware of how cold my hand was in his…. Though it was notably warmer than his. The perks of being alive, I suppose.

All around, other undead flocked to the floor. Jewelry glinted in the light given off by the chandelier that hung high above us.

 I could feel their eyes on me, causing me to tense even further as Vil twirled me  carefully across the floor. Moving in sync with the steady rhythm of the song that played. I spun back in, my hand finding its way back to his shoulder as if by habit, just as he spoke in an easy tone, “Relax.”

I almost snorted at Vil’s calm tone, choosing not to think too hard about how easy it was for him to read the emotions that flickered through me, “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being stared at like you're a rotisserie chicken in front of some starving wolves.” 

My hissed whisper was met with a raised eyebrow from my partner, “You knew this wouldn’t be easy, Y/n. And they aren’t staring at you like you’re a rotisserie chicken; they’re looking at you like you're dressed well and they’re curious.”

Despite his tone, his grip was gentle, and I knew his seemingly judgmental words served, in many ways, as a distraction from the situation. Because that was, more than anything, what I needed.

 I met his gaze, thankful that I was, at the very least, here with him, Rook, and Epel. And Vil was right; I’d known that these stares were precisely what awaited me in a ballroom filled with vampires, but…. 

I sighed, before whispering back to him, “You and I both know I came for two reasons. To meet the clans and stay with Epel. I couldn’t leave him to have to deal with this on his own. You know as well as I do that they would have eaten him alive.” 

And it was true. According to both Rook and Vil, vampires lived and breathed high society, which was something Epel abhorred. There was a high chance of him saying or doing something that would lead to him quickly becoming an outcast when he’d only just entered this world of undead glamor.

Vil looked almost insulted by my words, frowning at me slightly, “I wouldn’t have let him come to any harm.”

My eyes held his as I focused on him, using him to keep myself from paying too close attention to the stares I was receiving as one of only two living people in the room and the brand-new Hunter, to boot, “You can’t be everywhere, Vil, and neither can Rook.”

Just over Vil’s shoulder, I could see the very boy we spoke about. Epel, new the world of vampires and still unsure of the incredible etiquette it took not to accidentally insult one of them. He watched, doing his best not to look impressed or curious as I spun across the floor in Vil’s arms.

“Yes, but he has to learn Y/n. You can’t protect him forever. This is, unfortunately, his world now.” My gaze shifted back to Vil, meeting his eyes as I listened to his solemn words that echoed with the unforgiving truth.

“I know, but I can’t abandon him just yet. Not when so many of them might hurt him.” Vil listened to me silently, a carefully crafted mask on his face as I spoke in a far softer voice than I’d intended.

The more he listened, the more he frowned though, “Be that as it may, you aren’t safe here either, and you are also new to this world.”

I smiled wryly. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean I was just going to abandon Epel either, “I know, but I was dealing with vampires way before he even knew they existed. And I don’t think they’ll be willing to attack the new vampire hunter when I’ve only just started the job. Especially since, according to you and Rook, it's an important position that absolutely nobody wants.”

Vil’s gaze now shifted, and I watched him glance around the room, no doubt taking stock of who all was present, “Perhaps not many of them, but there are some….” 

I frowned as he trailed off, searching his face for answers before I questioned him, “What is it?”

Vil’s eyes darted back to my face and he smiled as if nothing at all were amiss, “Nothing, just make sure you and Epel stay close to either me or Rook tonight. I don’t trust either one of you two to not do something stupid.”

It was times like these that his ability to fake anything was annoying. He’d seen something or thought of someone. That I was positive of. But what, or who, was it? And how much danger were I and Epel in?

Unfortunately, some part of me whispered that it was most likely a who rather than a what. Though the idea of Vil worrying about someone was beyond concerning since, so far as I knew, he’d never worried about any other vampires.

I swallowed thickly, but nodded, “Sure, it wasn’t like I was planning on leaving you anyway. I don’t exactly have a death wish, and I don’t particularly plan on doing anything stupid.”

My eyes trailed back to where Rook and Epel stood. Rook swayed contentedly to the music, but Epel was eyeing me with a worried gaze. But then he knew that vampires were oddly attracted to me for unknown reasons. He’d fessed up one day and told me that there was something about me that was…. Appealing, as he had put it, though the way his eyes had lingered for just a few moments too long on my neck spoke more of hunger.

It was the most anyone had ever really said to me about the matter. Though there had been times when vampires who found me had implied that I smelled tasty.

 I had a pretty good idea that it wasn’t that it wasn’t my physical appearance that drew vampires to me, since Vil had always kept his lips tightly sealed on whatever it was that vampires liked about me. 

Similarly, Rook had always kept his silence, and he’d most certainly never been one to shy away from giving out compliments. At this point, I’d long suspected that I came across something akin to a particularly good meal. 

I swallowed, forcing myself to focus more on this currently stressful moment rather than the varying stressful possibilities of what, exactly, might be ahead or what it was that made vampires eye me like a particularly tasty-looking sandwich.

“So who is it that we’re avoiding exactly?” I looked back up at Vil, and his eyebrows rose. I frowned slightly at him as he sighed, surrendering to the fact that I knew there was someone about that had him concerned.

“Just an older vampire. He’s more experienced and, thus, more dangerous. You’ll be fine, though. He probably won’t even turn up here,” He smiled slightly as he finished. A hint of humor had slipped into his tone that had me shaking my head, but smiling despite myself.

“Is he as old as you?” One of Vil’s eyebrows lifted at my seemingly innocent question, and I immediately knew that he was on to me.

“Perhaps,” Vil’s response was careful, just like he always was when it came to his age. He refused, for unknown reasons, to tell me exactly how old he was and had even sworn Rook to secrecy.

But then Rook had known him far longer than I had. Once as the vampire hunter and now as a vampire himself.

A thought hit me, and I glanced past Vil and back towards Rook with a slight frown as I softly questioned my partner, “Is this vampire the one that turned Rook into a vampire?”

Vil frowned but shook his head, “I don’t know…..” He trailed off, and his movements slowed to a stop as others began to also stop in their motions around us. 

I watched in surprise and mounting worry as Vil’s eyes widened and a glimmer of something I’d never seen there flashed through their amethyst depths. Dread.

I spun, ignoring the way Vil’s hand had tightened on mine the very moment I moved, as I looked towards the top of the staircase to see a tall man standing there. 

His face was covered by a black mask, styled to look like a bird. He had a key-shaped walking stick, and his gloved fingers were tipped with golden claws that glimmered in the light cast by the chandelier that hung high overhead.

I swallowed, feeling my throat bob with the motion as I stared up at those glowing gold eyes that stared directly back at me as a satisfied smile rested on the only visible part of his pale face.

Like a condemning echo, I recalled Epel’s description of the man who turned him: “...he wore a mask. His eyes were bright though, almost glowing in the dark. Like little lightbulbs.”

At the time, I’d thought the description was strange, but now that I was looking up at him it made complete and utter sense. Those strange eyes probably would glow in the dark. Even with those thoughts, though, I felt my blood run cold at the realization that this was him. 

This was the man who had turned my friends into vampires, as well as the man who’d pushed me into the position I was now in, though I couldn't deny that it had been my choice to become a vampire hunter.

At odds with my fear that rooted me to the place where I stood, the man was totally relaxed. Spreading his arms wide as the music halted, and he smiled down at us. His glowing eyes locked onto my person even as Vil stayed by my side. Shifting ever so slightly in front of me and not abandoning me for even a second as we faced this man that had even elicited a reaction from Vil.

“I told your friends to pass on my greetings, but allow me to say it now that I have finally met you in person. Welcome to this, our world of the night. And congratulations on becoming our new Hunter, Y/n.”

If you would like to read more:

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[theodorabowes]

Welcome to Aurora Bay, Theodora Bowes! I couldn't help but notice you look an awful lot like Nicola Coughlan. You must be the thirty-two year old session musician. Word is you're talented but can also be a bit unforthcoming and your favorite song is C'est Comme Ca by Paramore. I also heard you'll be staying in Seabrook Quarter. I'm sure you'll love it! @aurorabayaesthetic

Basics -

Full name: Theodora Catherine Bowes

Nickname/s: Theo, Teddy

Preferred name/s: Theodora, Theo

Gender: Woman

Pronouns: She/her

Age: Thirty-two

Birthday: May 28th

Zodiac: Gemini

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Session musician

Backstory -

Theodora was born in Galway, Ireland, the eldest of three daughters in a family that was close and loving, yet individually independent at the very same time.

If asked today, she would say that there was nothing special about her upbringing in the slightest; she wasn't well off, or immune to pain, but she had what she needed and then some. It was an average to good upbringing.

A very special aspect of her upbringing, however, was the music lessons that she started as an extremely young girl. After her parents noticed an uncanny knack for playing the piano, they pursued the lessons for her, and Theodora loved it.

Piano lessons were swiftly met with the addition of violin lessons, and then many self-taught lessons with every other instrument she could get her hands on. Theodora seemed to have a natural talent for music, but what really counted was her real passion for music and performing.

While her love for music at times shone brightest, Theodora's parents raised her to be well-rounded; she always took care to maintain her personal life outside of her passion.

She went on to study music performance after completing high school; having performed for crowds before, Theodora wasn't after stage craft skills, instead wishing to find local networks in order to land a job in her desired field.

Very quickly she became a session musician for many local artists, both in live and studio settings, even before her study had concluded; being proficient with many instruments, Theodora loved the range this job allowed her, and she fell in love with the profession.

Since then, Theodora has lived and worked many places, led by spontaneity as well as job opportunities. Tired of the scene in Galway a few years after completing her studies, she began travelling, taking jobs, meeting new people, and having amazing musical experiences.

This lifestyle led her to many places, and currently, Aurora Bay. She's resided here for around six months now, and while she's sure she'll once again pack her things and find a new place to call home, she's surprisingly found herself in love with the town, unwilling to go anywhere anytime soon.

Personality & more -

At the same time that Theodora is confident, she's very humble. She's aware of her talents, but she's never been one to brag.

Music is her number one love, but she knows it would mean nothing to her if it weren't for the people in her life.

She's never considered herself settled, having never intentionally settled down anywhere, but the older she gets, the more she thinks about making that choice.

She often wishes that she was the type to hook up with people casually, but in her heart of hearts she knows that she's always believed in true love. That doesn't mean that she's immune to spending the night in someone else's bed and then regretting it in the morning...

[spiritual-activity]

Headcanons pt. 5 (Sasappis & Crash)

Can't believe I'm already at part 5 with the headcanons for CBS Ghosts! I have a few more to do then I'll move on to BBC Ghosts!

*Sasappis*

Knows around 3-4 different languages. Uses this to his advantage. Anyone who gets on their nerves can and will now be cursed at in every single one of those languages.

Started counting how many people died on the property after waiting around a few years with Thorfinn. They made it a game to guess who died of what and who would stay.

(kinda also a death theory-) May have accidentally eat a poisonous berry/mushroom. No visible injuries so it is possible. May have also kind of got so extremely nervous and just fainted and somehow died.

Has a secret ghost power that literally none of the other ghosts know about. Dude can literally talk to birds and can spread gossip to other ghosts that aren't on the property.

Thunderstorms have always calmed him down. The reason being that they remind them that mishaps are only temporarily and happiness will come after.

One of the shorter ghosts. Aside from being one of the "short kings", he is one of the ones that the others do not want on their bad side.

Secretly has a crush on Thorfinn. After years of being friends, they thought that maybe they could be a thing. It could be that Thorfinn is just tall and strong, though.

*Crash*

Got decapitated while driving his car. Flew through the windshield and a piece of glass went clean through his neck. He swerved his car so he wouldn't hit a deer and ended hitting a tree.

His actual first name is Thomas. "Crash" is a nickname that's been stuck with him for years since there's never been a vehicle, that's been owned by him, that wasn't crashed.

Good person overall. Always wanting to help out in some way that's possible. May not always do it right, but the thought was there.

Hopeless romantic. Had a lot of crushes throughout his life (that were mainly his friends). Easy for him to romantically love someone.

Musical theater greaser. Loves to come up with his own music. Never could figure out how to play certain instruments, however.

Loved watching The Twilight Zone with his younger siblings. Being the eldest, he made it his responsibility to try and scare them after watching a few episodes. Of course, after a few tries, his siblings picked up that he was doing it for fun.

Was in the chess club before he became a greaser. Was actually decent at chess but was more into checkers. Crafted a checkers set from wood after learning woodcarving from his uncle.

Crash was only in a handful of episodes and yet I still have quite a few headcanons for him. I enjoy making these a lot!

[202310271]

Website

First Page

I want to go to college online January (Spring) 2024, the 1st semester of next year, this school year. I want to go back to one of my old colleges, Baptist University of Florida. I want to get a degree in Violin (Music.) I was already doing this January - April 2020 (Spring 2020.)

I have to take the following classes:

Musical History (2 of 2)

Chemistry

Religion

Theory 3

Theory 4

Conducting

Orchestral Conducting

Violin - 7 credits

Performance Attendance (every semester)

Final Jury

Orchestra - 7 credit hours

I will go Spring 2024, Summer 2024, Fall 2024, and Spring 2025. That means the rest of this school year, the summer, and 1 more school year. I need 3 extra credit hours of Violin and Orchestra.

I don’t plan to get any graduate degrees because I don’t want to be in a regional orchestra and may not even be in a classical orchestra.

I want to play in a pit orchestra for musical theater, maybe several violins. The best music today that people have played is either high school BAND or musical theater for community theater or maybe high schoolers but not necessarily meaning technically. I don’t want to play pop or contemporary. All musicians do play solo and can post on YouTube or record alone or TOGETHER, which they do very easily.

I think people playing together sounds good when energetic and with lots of different volume changes. There are usually less lower note instruments it seems because they are louder, but they are less popular for solo playing. I do like the way the higher notes sound even in a group, though on the piano there are more notes that aren’t the melody being played counting the number of notes being played per hitting, blowing, rubbing, etc. a single thing by one or more people.

Teaching is easy to do, and most solo students stop young as maybe intermediate or early advanced, some just beginners, so you can teach the beginning and make money more that way. People can easily teach at a resident school, too, even full time I think some or commonly, even in charge of all the other teachers of it. I might just write some advice online.

I don’t need to play other instruments, but I wouldn’t make them equal to my main instrument.

I like singing and dancing, classically etc. I know it’s normal for fun and kids do it until they graduate high school or in junior high school.

If I have fun or whatever or write something, I can do arts and crafts and have a big plastic jewelry bead case and a large set of “pony” beads, my Gramma liked who worked at a craft store, which her own older brother owned, who also owned their neighborhood Up North, here in the U.S.

If I did have enough money now to have fun, I would go to the movie theaters etc.

I don’t really get to go out to eat well or any, so I am just at home eating enough without disrupting the cycle. There is no good food, now, like a “drought” or “famine.” Like, in college, I like an XL Smoothie King just strawberry every schoolday M-F, and I got tired of the great wraps and they stopped selling Whole Foods chocolate breakfast bars long ago.

[tj-crochets]

❄️ and 💚

Someone else asked about my crafting pet peeves, so I'm answering the 💚: How long have you been crafting and how did you get started? The answer is: depends on which craft you mean lol My grandma taught me to crochet in 2013, I started sewing plushies in the last week of 2019, and sewed my first quilt in 2020 (but got really into it last month or the month before). My grandma also taught me how to knit in 2013, but didn't really knit again for a few years after that. I started making dollhouse furniture...probably early 2020? Maybe 2019? Before those hobbies, I took lessons for guitar, piano, and violin for a few months in 2012 (I dropped violin pretty quickly, but I still play piano and guitar and picked up playing the ukulele in like 2013). This time period is also about when I started baking? Before all those hobbies, I used a knitting loom for a few years, made chain mail jewelry, and made a lot of friendship bracelets (I got pretty good at using one hand to keep tension on the bracelet while I used the other to tie knots, so I'd keep a half-finished bracelet in my pocket at all times in high school to work on when I got bored) Before that, I did a lot of origami (but only geometric origami, because that was all I knew lol). Before that, as a little kid, I used to cut up old file folders and turn them into suits of armor to wear while sword fighting my brother with pool noodles and I turned a bunch of straws into a stable for my toy horses. I also learned hand sewing as a little kid from my other grandma (we made a vest for a doll of mine together) but I didn't really use it for years after that. Before that, when I was a toddler, my mom used to do a lot of after school craft programs in like libraries and stuff with my older siblings, so I grew up making ornaments out of beads and pipe cleaners and tin can lids and stuff. So...how long have I been crafting? My whole life lol And the answer to how I got started is probably my mom but the reason I've kept at it is because I am very bad at sitting still unless I am doing something and I really really enjoy making things

[glowinggator]

Drummer! S/O

Request: Hello, I love your writing!!! Could you write something for the boys having an S/O that's a drummer? One that pours all their emotions and excess energy into their drumming?? 

A/N: I’m in SUCH a musical mood at the moment, so this is!! Perfect!! This can be interpreted as either platonic or romantic :)

Pairings: Raphael/Reader (Any Relationship) Leonardo/Reader (Any Relationship) Donatello/Reader (Any Relationship) Michelangelo/Reader (Any Relationship)

Content Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1349

 Raphael:

Contrary to his appearance, Raphael has always been on the “tamer” side of music. He has a strong love of jazz and funk, and as rhythmic as it may be, he’s always loved the spontaneity of it. He’s a singer at heart, and he loves the way jazz keeps him on his toes. Never bound by a single melody or beat, jazz is a genre of improv. But just because the steady rhythm of drumming doesn’t come naturally to him doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate it!

The drummer is arguably one of the most important members of any band, carrying a song through its steady and fiery rhythms — doubly so when the drummer has as much passion as you do! They may not always get the recognition they deserve, but they’re true leaders. And he admires that so, so much about you. Your passion is incredible to see, and he’s mesmerized by how involved you get in your craft.

He also just likes to see you beat the shit outta things.

He could sit there for hours once you get in the zone! That spot where everything but you and your drums just melts away is awesome, and he can see that change in your eyes when you really just let go of all your worries. Hell!! Yeah!!  

He totally starts focusing on the drum line in the songs that he listens to in his free time. Not something he really focused on before, but now it’s a huge part of music for him!

Probably the only brother who doesn’t have a single opinion on Lars Ulrich, unless you get involved.

He likes to bob his head while you play, especially if he recognizes the song.

Totally the type of guy to find two pens and play a really off-tempo drum fill on your arms or on the table when you’re sitting in the kitchen. Teach him your ways!!

He’s probably asked you to teach him how to play once or twice! If you listen to a click track or something while you play, it’ll probably throw him off a bit, but he’s actually not too bad once he gets the hang of it!

 Leonardo:

Sign here, initial here, print here. Oh, what are you signing you ask? You’ve just joined a two man band, with Leo as lead. There’s nobody else but you two, I’m sorry. At least you guys can play in the same genre!

But for real, he thinks it’s so cool that you love the drums so much. He thinks it's such a cool, fierce instrument and he loves how much emotion you pour into your work. He loves the way you get so deep into it all, and the amount of coordination needed to play properly doesn’t go unnoticed by him! He can practically see your confidence rise when you get really into it, and let go of all that extra emotion and energy. That’s genuinely so attractive to him, and he could watch you for hours — especially for the first dozen or so times.

If you like songs with heavier drum parts? He’s obsessed. This could be anything from Gojira, to Arch Enemy, to Ghost! He gets so starry eyed when you play stuff like that. Not necessarily because he likes that genre better, but because he can really see the tension fade from your shoulders. Beat the fuck out of those drums baby!!

He loves his classics though, and he adores when you play chiller stuff, too!

He likes to play alongside you quite often, actually! He likes to look up videos with cool drum fills and guitar solos so you can both really have fun with it! It can be pretty much any genre as well, but you already know you’re gonna be playing Black Hole Sun with him. And Every Little Thing She Does is Magic! That’s a staple with him!

He becomes INTOLERABLE when In the Air Tonight comes on the radio. He WILL play the air drums at you, and it will be SO out of sync. It makes you laugh every time, and with the way he’s smiling makes you question whether or not he’s doing it on purpose. He’s such a dork.

Unfortunately a Metallica fan :( He will defend them to his death, and he totally fights with Donnie about it.

He’s also asked you to teach him before, but he’s the type to overplay the shit out of something simple until there is no groove left to follow. His enthusiasm is cute though, and over time, he gets better at it!

 Donatello:

He loves his synth music, so he honestly doesn’t really think about the drums that much? He’s a techno kind of guy. But he does have a good ear for rhythm, and drummers are the patron saints of rhythm, in his opinion. So he has respect for your craft. Not so much of the excitement as his brothers — he’s respectfully neutral.

But once he realizes how much of a release it is for you, his interest goes up a bit. He’ll probably be wearing headphones if he’s hanging out while you play, but make no mistake, his attention is fully on you. He recognizes that look in your eye — that glazed over yet energetic look, and he knows that you’re completely in the zone. It’s passion at its finest. The world around you has melted away, and for a few minutes, it’s just you and the beat of your drums. And that’s what he loves about it! He loves that passion!

Huge music theory nerd!

He likes to send you songs and asks you how good the drums are on a scale of one to ten.

He hates Metallica so much. He’d probably throw a tomato at Lars Ulrich if he ever met him in real life.

Thinks the coordination you have when it comes to drumming is super attractive.

He won’t play drums though, rip. Can you imagine him beating on the drums? Man would pick up a stick and hold it like a hamburger. He’ll stick to keys and computer synth, thanks.

Honestly, he’s the most neutral about it. He’s happy that you have an outlet that you’re so passionate about, and he’ll happily hang out with you while you play, but he doesn’t get super into it. Just supportive!

 Michelangelo:

He likes his hiphop, but he loves some drums! And the passion you’ve got for them is nothing but infectious.

Totally tries to meld whatever genre you like to play with some of his own funky fresh beats, and he actually makes it work pretty well!

Hope you’re not a sticker purist, because he has so many stickers for your set.

He smiles so much when you really get into it, and he thinks it’s probably the best way to really get all that emotion and energy out! Not only that, but he loves how confident of an instrument it is, and how that seems to bleed over into you when you really get into it. In his eyes, it’s more than a simple stress reliever — this is when he really sees you shine, and he loves that! He loves to be in the same room while you play, and he always bops along.

He’ll even try and make up some lyrics, or some guitar or bass lines to go with it! Never underestimate his improv skills.

He’s with Donnie about the Ulrich debate and he’ll die on that hill. Any time he sees a concert video of them, he dies a little inside.

He likes to send you songs with really cool drum fills and asks if you’d ever learn how to play it for him. It’s cute!

He’s actually pretty good on the drums, if you can turn him onto it! But in all reality, it doesn’t take much convincing. He’s got such a good sense of rhythm, and it quickly becomes a cathartic activity for him, too! He likes to scat sing while playing too, even if he can’t hear his own voice through the headphones.

[pineconeinatree]

witchy tips for witches with depression <3

I've been struggling with depression for some time now and I've been having a lot of issues practicing my craft since the lack of energy and motivation, so I decided to compile a list of simple routine things you can try to add to your daily life to get you back on the craft and maybe make you feel better :]

theres no instant cure to depression but there are ways to make it a little less bad, and little by little get you back on your feet !! these may not work for everyone as I am writing down things that work for me and just simple ways I use to incorporate the craft into my daily life. please please please also seek prefessional help if you're able to !! talk to friends and family, you're loved and cared for !! google depression self help tips for more tips, I know most of them may sound dumb or trivial or useless but it is so worth a shot adhering to them for some time, maybe you will notice an increase in your mood :D

1. veiling

when I go out, I wear a scarf on my head to protect my energy or keep me in a good mood, depending on the days activity. you can wear a scarf around the house or go out with it and putting one on also works for a bad hair day (read: haven't washed hair in a week) ;D

just cleanse the scarf by maybe shaking the unwanted energies out of it or with incense or with whatever you see the best and bless the scarf with your intentions for the day :D

2. cleansing

if you have a hard time taking care of your hygiene ( it's okay I promise, it can be very exhausting :/ ), try getting some baby wipes on your bedside table and when you wake up / before you go to bed, wipe your face, armpits, feet etc. with the wipe and with the intention of cleansing. it's quick and very easy and I promise that it's worth it, you'll feel a lot more fresh afterwards. you can do the same with washing in general ! if you take a shower imagine the bad thoughts and depressive energy go down the drain in a black/gray/brown stream of dark water !! you'll feel a lot more fresh and maybe a bit clear-headed even :)

3. tea magick

while getting your cup of tea / coffee, stir your days intentions into the drink or do this:

stir clockwise thrice to bring positivity, stir counterclockwise to let out negative energy in your next three sighs and then seal the spell to let the sadness repel.

I recommend black tea or white tea or chamomile tea and add some honey / sugar to sweeten the deal !!

4. shadow work

I know that one of the last things you might want to do is dwelve deep into your feelings but it really will be useful in the long run. if you feel yourself getting upset or your mood suddenly dropping, try getting to the bottom of it; what triggered the emotional reaction? take a deep breath, relax into your feelings as they are in that moment and be honest with yourself. observe them without judgment and try to find out where they came from and how to solve the conflict.

here's some prompts and questions you can try asking yourself:

how did you feel ( more accurately than just upset; were you angry, jealous, sad, lonely etc.) ?

is there something you can do right now to solve it ?

how could you handle this situation in a healthy way? eg. try to come up with healthy coping mechanisms.

how can you maybe prevent this in the future?

try the court trial thought challenging technique. if these thoughts or this situation was a court case, which side would win? imagine yourself as the defense attorney. you need to gather 100% foolproof evidence you have siding with the negative thought and then defend it against the undermining counterpart. it's kind of a pros and cons type of list but you adopt the viewpoint of an outside viewer to get a clearer and more realistic view of the situation. this thought process can help you realize that some negative thoughts aren't truthful and help you let them go. you can Google "the court trial cbt" for more on this technique :D !!

5. studying the craft

we're all individuals and we react differently to bad states of mind but what I do often is distract myself by being on my phone and I know ( I hope so, at least ) I'm not alone in this. as a witch, you're always developing and learning new things, was it about learning different kinds of ways to practice your craft or getting to know other practices or maybe reading a guide how to grow your own herbs ! point is, if you're gonna distract yourself, you could try reading ebooks or articles or even tumblr posts about things that interest you !

maybe try making a list of subjects, topics and practices that interest you and set a goal for yourself to read at least about 3 subjects on the list per day !!

6. making pinterest boards / planning

this isnt directly magick but I think it does count as practicing your craft. make mood boards for the next full moon, come up with spells, make pinterest boards about cool things that interest you or maybe start planning for the next sabbath ! just have fun with it, maybe colour coordinate your pin boards or arrange them by season !

7. go out for walks

it is so so so important to try to adhere to some routines. a big part of managing depression is taking care that you get enough sleep, eat enough and do fulfilling, nice and healthy things. go outside and try to look for rocks or crystals from the nature ? or try foraging ! or maybe go for a walk during sunset/sunrise and admire the beautiful sky and clouds ! ANY reason to peep your nose out of the house is a good reason. maybe go meditate to the nearest park ? or try yoga !!

8. interests and passions and things you loved to do

I know that it might be hard to find joy in the things that you used to like doing but you should try to do at least one thing that you used to love doing for 10 minutes every day ! incorporate a little witchcraft into it too if you want to !

draw or paint a sigil and maybe colour it

sing your favourite song with intent that matches the lyrics

try freestyling with any instrument you play and let your intuition guide you with the chords and notes that come out ! you can try also making small melodies that correspond to different intents and use them for cleasing or happiness or protection !!

bake or cook something you've always wanted to try ! look up the ingredients' correspondences and cook with desired intents !

please know that you're not alone !! my dms are always open if you want tips or just someone to talk to, too :) you don't need to do all of these but maybe try taking some inspo and adjust it to your life and surroundings and daily life and come up with ways of your own, it's your craft after all !!

[impostoradult]

Media Market Research (and why its undermining all the things you love)

Trying to understand what is dysfunctional about Hollywood is an epic task, and the answers are like the stars – arguably infinite. Hollywood is dysfunctional for literally more reasons than I could count.

But market research plays a fairly heavy role in its dysfunction (IMO) and the time has finally come for me to add my professional two cents about this issue. (This rant of mine has been building for a while, FYI. Hence why it is so...comprehensive. There is a tl;dr section towards the bottom, if you want the high level summary)

*** For the last 4+ years I’ve worked in the field of market research, almost exclusively with major media makers like Warner Bros., NBCU, AMC/BBCA, Viacom, FOX (before Disney acquired them), A+E, etc. (this past year I quit the job where I was doing this work for a variety of reasons, many of which will become clear as you keep reading, but I am still listed as a consultant on the company website):   https://www.kresnickaresearch.com/who/ (Rachel)

And just for comparison, here is a Halloween selfie I took 4 years ago and posted on my blog, so you can see I am who I say I am. 

I know a fair amount about how market research on major media franchises is conducted and how it influences production, and a lot of these choices can also be at least somewhat tied back to the massive flaws in the market research industry and its impact. *** First, at the highest level, you need to understand market research in general is not well-conducted much of the time. Even the people doing a reasonably good job at it are VERY limited in doing it well because of financial constraints (clients don’t want to spend more than they have to), time constraints (clients want everything done as fast as humanely possible) and just the inherent problems within the industry that are decades old and difficult to fix. For example, all market research ‘screens’ participants to make sure they qualify to participate (whether it is a mass survey, a focus group, a one-on-one interview, etc.). So, we screen people based on demographics like race, gender, age, household income, to get representative samples. But people are also screened based on their consumption habits. You don’t want to bring someone into a focus group about reality TV if they don’t watch reality TV. They aren’t going to have anything useful to say. 

However, a lot of the people who participate in market research have made a ‘side-gig’ out of it and they know how to finesse the process. Basically, they’ve learned how to lie to get into studies that they aren’t a good match for because most market research is paid, and they want the money. So, a lot of TV and film market research is being done on people who don’t actually (or at least don’t regularly) watch those shows or movies or whatever but have learned how to lie well enough in these screening processes to make it through. And because of the aforementioned time and money issue, clients don’t want to spend the time or money to actually find GOOD participants. They just accept that as an inevitable part of the market research process and decide not to let it bother them too much. So, a fair number of the people representing YOU as a media consumer are people who may not be watching Supernatural (for example) at all or who watch a rerun occasionally on TNT but haven’t been watching consistently or with ANY amount of investment whatsoever. You can see why that creates very skewed data. But that’s just the tip of the skewed iceberg. *** Second, media market research is conducted in line with the norms of market research more broadly, and this is a huge problem because media is a very atypical product. How people engage with media is far more complex and in depth than how they engage with a pair of jeans, a car, or a coffee maker. There are only so many things that matter to people when it comes to liking or not liking a coffee maker, for example. Is it easy/intuitive to use? How much space does it take it on my counter? How expensive is it? Does it brew the coffee well? Maybe does it match my décor/kitchen aesthetic? Can I make my preferred brand of coffee in it? The things you as a consumer are going to care about when it comes to a coffee maker are limited, fairly easy to anticipate in advance, and also easy to interpret (usually). How people mentally and emotionally approach MEDIA? Whole other universe of thing. Infinitely more complex. And yet it is studied (more or less) as if it is also a coffee maker. This is one of the many reasons I decided to leave the media market research field despite my desire to have some ability to positively influence the process. As so often seems to be the case, I fought the law and the law won. I could never make the other people I worked with in the industry understand that the questions they were asking were not all that useful a lot of the time and they weren’t getting to the heart of the matter. They were just following industry standards because they didn’t know any better and none of them want to admit they don’t REALLY know what they’re doing. Which leads me to point 3. *** Most of the people doing this research don’t have any expertise in media or storytelling specifically. They are typically trained as social scientists in the fields of psychology, anthropology, sociology, or math/statistics. And many of them do not have any kind of specialization or education in media/storytelling beyond the English classes they took in high school and the one Media Studies course they took as an elective in college. Most of them have a very unsophisticated understanding of narrative structure, thematics, tropes, subtext, etc. They mainly think in terms of genres at the VERY broadest level. Also, not infrequently, they don’t watch or have much knowledge of the shows they are supposed to be doing research on, beyond what they’ve read on IMDb or Wikipedia or what is generally common knowledge. Unless they by chance happen to watch the shows themselves (which often they don’t) they often know very little about the shows they are crafting these questions about. Again, partly because they think it is like the coffee maker, and you don’t need to understand it in any depth to research it. (I know this must sound insane to you as avid media consumers, but that is the general attitude among those who do market research) There is such a lack of sophistication in how people in the business side of the industry understand media and storytelling. Most of them are either MBAs or social scientists and their training has not prepared them to examine fictional works with the kind of depth that people in the Humanities (who are specifically trained to study texts) have. Somehow, despite the fact that the Humanities is all about understanding texts, that is the one discipline they make almost no use of in the business side of Hollywood. And boy howdy does it show. *** Point 4 – average consumers CANNOT ARTICULATE WHY THEY LIKE THINGS. Particularly media things. I know this sounds condescending, but it is my honest observation. It is unbelievably hard to get people to have enough self-awareness to explain why they actually like things, especially things as mentally and emotionally complex as media. What typically happens when you ask people why they like a TV show or movie, for example? They will tell you what they most NOTICE about the TV show or movie, or what is distinctive to them about it (which may or may not have anything to do with what they actually LIKE about it). They will say things like “I like the genre”, “I think it’s funny”, “The car chases are exciting”, “I want to see the detective solve the puzzle.” Sometimes you can get them to talk about what they find relatable about it, if you push them a little. But often they leave it at either the level of literal identity (young black woman), basic personality traits (she’s a social butterfly and so am I) or situations they’ve personally experienced (I relate to this story of a man losing his father to cancer because I lost a close family member to cancer). But the vast, vast, vast majority of them can’t go to the deeper level of: a) Why X representation of a young black woman feels accurate/authentic/relatable and Y representation doesn’t b) Why it matters to me that X,Y,Z aspects of my personality, identity, experience get reflected in media whereas I don’t really care about seeing A,B,C aspects of my personality, identity, or experience reflected in media c) How and why they are relating to characters when they can’t see the literal connection between their identity/experience and the character’s identity/experience. (For example, many people have argued that women often relate to Dean Winchester because a lot of his struggles and past negative experiences are more stereotypical of women – being forced to raise a younger sibling on behalf of an actual parent, being seen and treated as beautiful/sexually desirable but vacuous/unintelligent, his body being treated as an instrument for a more powerful group to quite literally possess, etc. Part of the reason Supernatural has always been such a mystery/problem for the CW and Warner Bros is they could never crack the code at this level. Never.) Part of the reason they can’t crack these codes is average people CANNOT give you that kind of feedback in a survey or a focus group, or even an in-depth interview (much of the time). They just don’t have the self-awareness or the vocabulary to get it at that level. Let alone asking them to articulate why Game of Thrones is compelling to them in an era where wealth disparity is creating a ruling class that is fundamentally incompetent at maintaining a just/functional society, which is especially concerning at this particular moment, given the existential threat we face due to climate change. And the truth is, that IS part of what people – even average people – are responding to in Game of Thrones. But what they’ll tell you when you do market research on it is: they like the dragons, they like the violence, they relate to Tyrion Lannister being a smart mouth, maybe they’ll say they like the moral ambiguity of many of the conflicts (if they are more sophisticated than average). But the ‘Dean Winchester is heavily female coded despite his veneer of ultra-masculinity’ or the ‘Game of Thrones is a prescient metaphor for the current political dynamics and fissures of modern western society’ is the level you ACTUALLY need to get to. And most market research can’t get you that because the people ASKING the questions don’t know what to ask to get to this level, and most of the respondents couldn’t give you the answers even IF you were asking them the right questions (which usually you are not) And I’m not saying average people are dumb because they can’t do this. But it requires practice, it requires giving the matter a great deal of in-depth thought, and most people just don’t care enough about it to do that while taking a market research survey. (I know this is going to feel counter-intuitive to people on Tumblr. But you have to remember, you are NOT average media consumers. You are highly atypical media consumers who have far more self-awareness and a much more sophisticated engagement with media than the average person watching TV. If you didn’t, you probably wouldn’t be here talking about it in the first place) Point 4.1 – People also lie/misrepresent their own experiences to market researchers because they want to maintain certain self-narratives. You have no idea how many people would get disqualified from our surveys for saying they watched less than 5 hours of TV a week. And sure, that might actually be true for a few of them. But if you watch TV with any regularity at all (which most people in modern America do) you probably watch more than 5 hours a week. The problem is, people think it makes them sound lazy to say they watch 15-20 hours a week, even though that’s about 2-3 hours a day (which actually isn’t THAT high). People lie and misrepresent their behaviors, thoughts and feelings because it can be socially uncomfortable to admit you do what you actually do or feel how you actually feel, even in the context of an anonymous survey, let alone a focus group or a one-on-one interview. People want to make themselves look good to THEMSELVES and to the researchers asking them questions. But that makes the market research data on media (and lots of other things) very questionable. For example, one finding we saw more than once in the surveys I was involved in conducting was people would radically downplay how much the romance elements of a story mattered to them, even large portions of female respondents. When we would ask people in surveys what parts of the story they were most invested in, romances ALWAYS came out among the lowest ranked elements. And yet, any passing familiarity with fandom would tell you that finding is just WRONG. It’s wrong. People are just flat out lying about how much that matters to them because of the negative connotations we have around being invested in romance. And never mind the issue of erotic/sexual content. (I don’t mean sexual identity here, I mean sexy content). The only people who will occasionally cop to wanting the erotic fan service is young men (and even they are hesitant to do so in market research) and women frequently REFUSE to admit that stuff in market research, or they radically downplay how much it matters to them and in what ways. There is still so much stigma towards women expressing sexuality in that way. Not to mention, you have to fight tooth and nail to even include question about erotic/sexual content because oftentimes the clients don’t even want to go there at all, partly because it is awkward for everyone involved to sit around crafting market research questions to interrogate what makes people hot and bothered. That’s socially awkward for the researchers doing the research and the businesspeople who have to sit in rooms and listen to presentations about why more women find Spock sexier than Kirk. (Which was a real thing that happened with the original Star Trek, and the network couldn’t figure out why) Aside from people not have enough deeper level self-awareness to get at what they really like about media content, they also will lie or misrepresent certain things to you because they are trying to maintain certain self-narratives and are socially performing that version of themselves to researchers. *** Point 5 – Qualitative data is way more useful for understanding people’s relationships to media. However, quantitative data is way more valued and relied upon both due to larger market research industry standards and because quantitative data is just seen as harder/more factual than qualitative data. A lot of media market research involves gathering both qualitative and quantitative data and reporting jointly on both. (Sometimes you only do one or the other, depending on your objectives, but doing both is considered ‘standard’ and higher quality). However, quantitative data is heavily prioritized in reporting and when there is a conflict between what they see in qualitative versus quantitative data, the quant data is usually relied upon to be the more accurate of the two. This is understandable to an extent, because quantitative surveys usually involve responses from a couple thousand participants, whereas qualitative data involves typically a few dozen participants at most, depending on whether you did focus groups, individual interviews, or ‘diaries’/ethnography. The larger sample is considered more reliable and more reflective of ‘the audience’ as a whole. However, quantitative surveys usually have the flattest, least nuanced data, and they can only ever reflect what questions and choices people in the survey were given. In something like focus groups or individual interviews or ethnographies, you still structure what you ask people, but they can go “off script.” They can say things you never anticipated (as a researcher) and can explain themselves and their answers with more depth. In a survey, participants can only “say” what they survey lets them say based on the questions and question responses that are pre-baked for them. And as I’ve already explained, a lot of times these quantitative surveys are written by people with no expertise in media, fiction, or textual analysis, and so they often are asking very basic, not very useful questions. In sum, the data that is the most relied upon is the least informative, least nuanced data. It is also the MOST likely to reflect the responses of people who don’t actually qualify for the research but have become good at scamming the system to make extra money. With qualitative research, they are usually a little more careful screening people (poorly qualified participants still make it through, but not as often as with mass surveys, where I suspect a good 35% of participants, at least, probably do not actually qualify for the research and are just working the system). 

Most commonly, when market research gets reported to business decision-makers, it highlights the quantitative data, and uses the qualitative data to simply ‘color in’ the quantitative data. Give it a face, so to speak. Qualitative data is usually supplemental to quant data and used more to make the reports ‘fun’ and ‘warm’ because graphs and charts and stats by themselves are boring to look at in a meeting. (I’m not making this up, I can’t tell you how many times I was told to make adjustments on how things were reported on because they didn’t want to bore people in the meeting). (Sub-point – it is also worth noting that you can’t report on anything that doesn’t fit easily on a power point slide and isn’t easily digestible to any random person who might pick it up and read it. The amount of times I was told to simplify points and dumb things down so it could be made ‘digestible’ for a business audience, I can’t even tell you. It was soul crushing and another reason I stopped doing this job full time. I had to make things VERY dumb for these business audiences, which often meant losing a lot of the point I was actually trying to make) Point 5.1 – Because of the way that representative sampling works, quantitative data can be very misleading, particularly in understanding audience/fandom sentiments about media. As I’m sure most of you know, sampling is typically designed to be representative of the population, broadly speaking. So, unless a media company is specifically out to understand LGBTQ consumers or Hispanic/Latinx consumers, it will typically sample using census data as a template and represent populations that way. Roughly 50/50 male/female. Roughly even numbers in different age brackets, roughly representative samplings of the racial make-up of the country, etc. (FYI, they do often include a non-binary option in the gender category these days, but it usually ends up being like 5 people out of 2000, which is not enough of a sample to get statistical significance for them as a distinct group)   There is a good reason to do this, even when a show or movie has a disproportionately female audience, or young audience. Because they need enough sample in all of the “breaks” (gender, race, age, household income, etc.) to be able to make statistically sound statements about each subgroup. If you only have 35 African American people in your sample of 1000, you can’t make any statistically sound statements about that African American cohort. The sample is just too small. So, they force minimums/quotas in a lot of the samples, to ensure they can make statistically sound statements about all the subgroups they care about. They use ratings data to understand what their audience make up actually is. (Which also has major failings, but I’ll leave that alone for the minute) With market research, they are not usually looking to proportionately represent their audience, or their fandom; they are looking to have data they can break in the ways they want to break it and still have statistically significant subgroups represented. But that means that when you report on the data as a whole sample – which you often do – it can be very skewed towards groups who don’t make up as large a portion of the show’s actual audience, or even if they do, they don’t tend to be the most invested, loyal, active fans. Men get weighted equally to women, even when women make up 65% of the audience, and 80% of the active fandom. Granted, they DO break the data by gender, and race, and age, etc. and if there are major differences in how women versus men respond, or younger people versus older people, they want to know that...sometimes. But here’s where things get complex. So, if you are doing a sample of Supernatural viewers. And you do the standard (US census-based) sampling on a group of 2000 respondents (a pretty normal sample size in market research). ~1000 are going to be female. But with something they call “interlocking quotas” the female sample is going to be representative of the other groupings to a degree. So, the female sample will have roughly equal numbers of all the age brackets (13-17, 18-24, 25-34, etc.). And it will have roughly 10% non-heterosexual respondents, and so on. They do this to ensure that these breaks aren’t too conflated with each other. (For example, if your female sample is mostly younger and your male sample is mostly older, how do you know whether it is the gender or the age that is creating differences in their responses? You don’t. So, you have to make sure that all the individual breaks (gender, race, age) have a good mix of the other breaks within them, so groups aren’t getting conflated) But what that means is, Supernatural, whose core fandom is (at a conservative guess) 65% younger, queer, women, gets represented in a lot of statistical market research sampling as maybe 50-100 people, in a 2000-person survey. 50-100 people can barely move the needle on anything in a 2000-person survey. Furthermore, usually in the analysis of data like this, you don’t go beyond looking at 2 breaks simultaneously. So you may look at young female respondents as a group, or high income male respondents, or older white respondents, but you rarely do more than 2 breaks combined. And the reason for that is, by the time you get down to 3 breaks or more (young, Hispanic, women) you usually don’t have enough sample to make statistically significant claims. (It also just takes longer to do those analyses and as I explained in the beginning, they are always rushing this stuff). To do several breaks at a time you’d have to get MUCH larger samples, and that’s too expensive for them. And again, I want to stress, this type of sampling isn’t intended to sinisterly erase anyone. Kind of the opposite. It is intended to make sure most groups have enough representation in the data that you can make sound claims about them on the subgroup level. The problem is that it can create a very skewed sense of their overall audience sentiment when they take the data at ‘face value’ so to speak, and don’t weight segments based on viewership proportion, or fandom engagement, etc. Point 5.2 – Which leads me to my next point, which is that fandom activity that doesn’t have a dollar amount attached to it doesn’t make you a ‘valuable’ segment in their minds. One of the breaks they ALWAYS ask for in data like this is high income people, and people who spend a lot of MONEY on their media consumption. And they do prioritize those people’s responses and data quite a bit.   And guess what – young women aren’t usually high-income earners, and although some of them are high spenders on media, high spending on media and media related merch skews toward higher income people just because they HAVE more disposable income. Older white men are usually the highest income earners (absolutely no surprise) and they are more likely in a lot of cases to report spending a lot on the media they care about. Having expendable income makes you more important in the eyes of people doing market research than if you’ve spent every day for the last 10 years blogging excessively about Supernatural. They don’t (really) care about how much you care. They care about how much money you can generate for them. And given that young audiences don’t watch TV live anymore, and they give all their (minimal) expendable income to Netflix and Hulu, you with your Supernatural blog and your 101 essays about Destiel is all but meaningless to many of them (from a business standpoint) Now, some of them kind of understand that online fandom matters to the degree that fandom spreads. Fandom creates fandom. But if the fandom you are helping to create is other young, queer women with minimal income who only watch Supernatural via Netflix, well, that’s of very limited value to them as well. I don’t want to suggest they don’t care about you at ALL. Nor do I want to suggest that the “they” we are talking about is even a cohesive “they.” Different people in the industry have different approaches to thinking about fandom, consumer engagement and strategy, market research and how it ought to be understood/used, and so on. They aren’t a monolith. BUT, they are, at the end of the day, a business trying to make money. And they are never going to place the value of your blogging ahead of the concrete income you can generate for them. (Also, highly related to my point about people lying, men are more likely to SAY they have higher incomes than they do, because it’s an ego thing for them. And women are more likely to downplay how much money they spend on ‘frivolous’ things like fandom because of the social judgement involved. Some of the money gender disparity you see in media market research is real, but some of it is being generated by the gender norms people are falsely enacting in market research– men being breadwinners, women wanting to avoid the stereotype of being frivolous with money) *** In sum/tl;dr: Point 1 – Market research in general is not well conducted because of a variety of constraints including time, money, and the historical norms of how the industry operates (e.g., there being a large subsection of almost professionalized respondents who know how to game the system for the financial incentives) Point 2 – Media is a highly atypical kind of product being studied more or less as if it were equivalent to a coffeemaker or a pair of jeans. Point 3 – Most of the people studying media consumption in the market research field have no expertise or background in media, film, narrative, storytelling, etc. They are primarily people who were trained as social scientists and statisticians, and they aren’t well equipped to research media properties and people’s deeper emotional attachment and meaning-making processes related to media properties. Point 4(etc.) – Average consumers typically don’t have enough self-awareness or the vocabulary to explain the deep, underlying reasons they like pieces of media. Furthermore, when participating in market research, people lie and misrepresent their thoughts, behaviors, and emotional responses for a variety of reasons including social awkwardness and preserving certain self-narratives like “I’m above caring about dumb, low-brow things like romance.” Point 5 (etc.) – Quantitative data is treated as way more meaningful, valuable, and ‘accurate’ than qualitative data, and this is a particular problem with media market research because of how varied and complex people’s reactions to media can be. Also, the nature of statistical sampling, and how it is done, can massively misrepresent audience sentiments toward media and fail to apprehend deeper fandom sentiments and dynamics. There is also a strong bias towards the responses of high income/high spending segments, which tend to be older and male and white. Side but important point – Research reports are written to be as entertaining and digestible as possible, which sounds nice in theory, but in practice it often means you lose much of the substance you are trying to communicate for the sake of not boring people or making them feel stupid/out of their depth. (Because god forbid you make some high-level corporate suit feel stupid) *** What can be done about this? Well, the most primary thing I would recommend is for you to participate in market research, particularly if you are American (there’s a lot of American bias in researching these properties, even when they have large international fanbases). However, some international market research is done and I recommend looking into local resources for participation, where ever you are. If you are American, there are now several market research apps you can download to your smart phone and participate in paid market research through (typically paid via PayPal). Things like dscout and Surveys On the Go. And I know there are more. You should also look into becoming panelists for focus groups, particularly if you live near a large metropolitan area (another bias in market research). Just Google it and you should be able to figure it out fairly easily. Again, it is PAID, and your perspective will carry a lot more weight when it is communicated via a focus group or a dscout project, versus when it is shouted on Twitter. However, that’s merely a Band-Aid on the bigger issue, which I consider to be the fact that businesspeople think the Humanities is garbage, even when they make their living off it. There is virtually no respect for the expertise of fictional textual analysis, or how it could help Hollywood make better content. And I don’t know what the fix is for that. I spent 4 years of my life trying to get these people to understand what the Humanities has to offer them, and I got shouted down and dismissed so many times I stopped banging my head against that wall. I gave up. They don’t listen, mostly because conceding to the value of deep-reading textual analysis as a way to make better content would threaten the whole system of how they do business. And I mean that literally. So many people’s jobs, from the market researchers to the corporate strategists to the marketing departments to the writers/creatives to the C-level executives, would have to radically shift both their thinking and their modes of business operation and the inertia of ‘that’s the way it’s always been done’ is JUST SO POWERFUL. I have no earthly idea how to stop that train, let alone shift it to an entirely different track. BTW, if you want the deeper level of analysis of why I can’t stop rewatching Moneyball now that it’s been added to Netflix, the above paragraph should give you a good hint

[stopeatingwhales]

particles x damon albarn

the lyrics to this song are genuinely so beautiful, like i honestly cannot describe enough how much i adore this song my goodness

Pairing: present day damon x reader

Warnings: none :D

Word count: 1.881

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

It had been two months since I had last seen him. Two whole months since he had set foot in our home; two whole months since he said goodbye to leave for tour. The home that we shared had began to inhabit a sense of eeriness, some nights the walls began to feel as if they were closing in on me, trapping me from any interaction with the outside world, as if to hold me hostage by my own insanity, although other nights the space felt extremely large, almost too big for one person to be able to waste their nights alone in, encapsulating my mind in a constant conflict of obstructive thoughts, forcing me to overthink every tiny detail that was conveyed on the pale stained walls, the wooden floorboards, the arrangement of the furniture, resulting in many a time of me moving around heavy tables and chairs until the image of the room settled my mind’s anxiety. Allowing distance to get in the lines of mine and Damon’s relationship, it was simply uncanny that I was going to miss him; he was the carcass that kept me sane, the being that granted me peace in myself, ease on my mind to prevent such mania from enrapturing my brain, the person that engulfed me into a stupor of adoration and affection that one could never understand the authentic strength until felt - what some perceive as paramour, true love, something so overstimulating that once separated such thing desperation beguiles you to surround yourself with, only a mere sensation of emptiness is all that is felt inside, as if your limbs are damaged, your insides constantly in a state of sickness that you are convinced you’re in need of some form of professional assistance, but it is simply the alchemy, the poison of the apprehension that captivates you from the estrangement from your significant other. Though that wasn’t to say that wasn’t proud of Damon; I embraced fondness and admiration for everything that he did and was so dedicated in doing, his talent and immense knowledge for the art form that speaks to you demonstrated his ability to move millions of people, uniting as one in concerts, all touched from the same, simple string of melodies, proving his true gift and genius that is inside his brain.

I tried to pry my thoughts away from the excitement that had been seeping into my veins from the fact that he was returning home today, in an attempt to focus my mind on whatever had been showing on the television, but there was no use. To be cradled in his arms was all that I had longed, the thought clouding my brain almost every single night that I had thrown my body onto the linen sheets, trying to wrap my body around the duvet to replicate the specific warmth that had enveloped my body when in his arms, his body completely dominating mine, his hands running through my hair gently, apologising with a kiss on the top of my head when he accidentally pulled too roughly, my face buried in his chest as a blush would suddenly creep onto my cheeks, our embrace fulfilling me with a nest of blooming butterflies in my body, a poignant sensation of nervousness and reverence for the man that had me cooped up in his arms, the same feelings that would embody you whilst walking past your first crush during primary school, accidentally brushing your hands against one another’s, sending your mind into overdrive as if to think that the person was the love of your life. Such emotions never left, and I doubted that they ever would; supposing that is true love, he could make me feel like a little girl squealing over her teenage idol because of how perfect he was, just from being himself.

“I’m home, love,” I heard a voice call out in the hallway, accompanied by the soft slam of the front door, the tone of voice lacing a certain amount of raspiness, perhaps from a cigarette that had just been inhaled. My head instantly turned to the door of the living room, eyes settling upon the sight of Damon, who had a small grin curved on his lips, his gaze captured with joy and desire, perhaps from gratification towards the understanding that the tour had finally ended, as well as the fact that he was able to finally see me once again - my expression equally reciprocating his happiness. Instantly jumping from my seat on the couch, I rushed over to him as I threw my arms around him, resting my ear against his chest, listening to the soft pattern of his heartbeat. As usual, his arms wrapped around my figure, tightly embracing my body, the swarm of butterflies breaking out of their cocoons, my limbs growing weak from the recognisable thrill of affection that I had desired for far too long, and had sadly not received. Feeling his lips grazing against the top of my head made my mind go fuzzy, my cheeks flushing a heat that made me feel as if I was under the beating warmth of the sun during the summer months. This is what he does to me. “How’ve you been darling? I see you’ve rearranged the place, again.” he mumbled into my head of hair, my mind still relishing in the pleasure of being in his arms again.

“I’ve missed you,” I replied, reluctantly pulling my arms away from the embrace, in order to gawk at him. A gentle chuckle rumbled from his throat, though his features accentuated pity, understanding how I must’ve felt being away from him for so long. Lightly taking hold of one of his hands, I dragged his arm, guiding him to the sofa, where both of us sat next to each other. “You were gone for so long!”

“I know love, I’ve missed you so much,” he replied, squeezing my hand in reassurance. “At least I’m not gone for any longer though.” he added, his lips curving slightly as I nodded, a similar grin planted on my lips.

“How was the tour then?” I asked, pulling his arm to wrap it around my shoulders, my body already aching for more attachment to him. “The videos I’ve seen online made it look very good.”

“It was great, honestly. Loved every bit of it.” he replied, the grip on my shoulder tightening as he attempted to haul me closer to him. Humming in agreement, I placed my head on his shoulder, cradling the moment we shared together, the moment that I had imagined and adorned each and every night he was absent, cherishing every single time that he was able to be in my presence. I depended on him greatly, as did he, and though that may be a toxic strand which can only result in turmoil; our appreciation for one another held such poise that it would draw us closer together each and every time we had conjoined together after months of being separated. “I’ve actually got something to show you.” he added, shifting from our hug and slowly stepping to his feet, taking his hand in mine, his soft but coarse palms gripping onto mine ever so slightly, urging me to stand up too. “Come with me.”

Following him closely, we headed towards his studio. I had forgotten the last time that I had set foot in it; usually I would leave Damon to work on his craft alone, since having me prance around messing with all sorts of instruments and controls wasn’t going to provide much assistance. As well as that, sitting in the room, knowing that he was away and would be for many days on, would only make me yearn for his presence more, which is the last of what I would need when not being able to fall asleep. Though whenever he would call me into the room, he would always show me the most beautifully crafted symphony, in which he would perform it so effortlessly, as if it was simply created from the top of his head at that moment. Talent like his was so scarce; it would only prove to me that it’s something you are gifted with at birth, like an extremely high intelligence quotient - he always had ideas running through his mind, melodies that would be formed from a simple tap of the table in front of him. It was a wonder in the fact that he seemingly never got burned out with creating music, it was evidently his passion, and it touched me that he would constantly ask me for my opinion on his music, as it always resonated with him, always held such importance.

When we walked inside the studio, I followed him to the grand piano that was standing by the corner of the room. I kept my body upright, behind him, as he pulled out the black stool underneath, moving it back slightly in order for him to sit on it. “Over the tour, I had some free time, so I wrote this song, it’s called Particles,” he began, his voice quiet, as if it were intertwined with a certain anxiousness about what he was about to perform. “It’s still a work in progress, but I wanted to know what you thought of it.”

As I admired his fingers softly grazing the elegant, pale keys of the piano, the melody that in which played forth me instantaneously sufficed me in a trance, bewilderment encompassing my my mind as I listened to the sounds of the alluring chords echo throughout the room, bounce off the walls, the waves of noise crafting mountainous regions of goosebumps to prickle on the bare skin exposed from my forearms. Sculpted with such elegance and formality, my mouth fell agape as he played with such ease - in that significant moment, I was subdued to his music, hypnotised into his magnificence; I could do nothing, absolutely nothing, except admire the grace that fell from his lips once he started singing. As I allowed my gaze to drift onto his face, I gawked at his demeanour, his eyes almost screwed shut, his face almost frozen in place as his body rocked back and forth to the melody that was omitted from the piano. Every word, every string of lines carried a lugubrious essence to it, a tone laced with such beautification; obvious that there were deeper implications behind said lyrics. Each line that escaped his throat exemplified the nature of what earnest fervour, authentic devotion and expertise can embody. Such melody, paired with his voice embodied with pure ethereality, as if I was being greeted by a herd of the most quaint angels, welcoming my soul into the seven heavens. A beam crawled onto my lips, my heart thumping at a million miles per hour from the amount of love I carried in my body for the man in front of me.

Once the song ended, a moment was held in the atmosphere of mere silence, as if to take in all that was felt, all that had vibrated through the sound waves and blessed my ears. Shifting his body so he could connect eyes with me, a gentle, welcoming smile tugged on his lips. “That’s for you.”

[ramzawrites]

Wherever the world takes us Part 1 - A SBI!Reader insert

GN

Pairings: none Characters included: Philza, Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Cpt Puffy, Schlatt, Captain Sparklez, (mentioned) Fundy Warnings: small mention of death Series: Yes, planned slow updates but this happens in a slight AU world of the official lore of the dsmp and follows along the plot only this time the reader gets included as the middle hybrid child of the SBI Part 2

Summary: A small introduction to the SBI family dynamic including the reader! Today is Techno’s big day at the local festival! He get’s to participate in a fighting tournament but until that happens there is still a ton of time to somehow still get into trouble, isn’t there?

Word count: 4380

Shapeshifters aren’t as rare as many people think. In fact many carry that gene but not everyone ends up showing the properties of one. If you have the active gene you may show first changes during your early childhood which then stretches out until your late teens where the changes will stop resulting in the persons usual animal like form. These changes can range from a whole body covered in fur to having goat like eyes or just horns on their head.

As far as scientists know there isn’t a real reason as to what the final form will be since Shapeshifters who are directly related to one another can have complete and drastically different forms to each other. Though an old myth has been going around for as long as people know that the form a Shapeshifter takes is a result of their subconscious, something that mirrors their true self. Sadly due to this belief many Non-Shifters hold stereotypes and prejudice towards them.

Philza was a Shapeshifter himself. As a kid two stubs slowly appeared at his back and settled in over the years as beautiful huge black wings that he could use for takeoff and a bit for flying but mostly functioned better for gliding around. He used these wings to later travel around the world, learning everything about it and training himself.

At some point he did settle down again and ended up fathering four children alone of whom two showed Shapeshifter properties as well.

There were the twins Technoblade and Wilbur. Technoblade showed from an early age on a deeper interest in fighting. Always asking to learn more than the self-defense techniques their father was teaching them, so Philza took the time to teach him everything he knew. Gifting him later on a proper iron sword which Techno then used to train almost daily with. Philza later had to put mending on that sword since it was chipped and scratched in a short time over heavy use. He is also one of the two children of Philza who ended up being a Shapeshifter. They first noticed when two of his teeth in his lower jaw tended to peek out of his mouth. Over the years these two teeth turned into full blown tusks, flappy pink ears would appear on his head, his hair slowly turned into a soft pink, as well as bristle like fur begun growing on his arms. It were the characteristics of a pig as they soon realized.

Wilbur the younger of the twins by two minutes was more interested in music and books. Philza gifted him a guitar the same time he gave Techno his first sword. From that point on it was a rare thing if you didn’t see Wilbur’s guitar around him. Either on his person or laying close by him. Over time he got really proficient with the instrument and begun writing amazing songs as well as singing them himself.

The middle child Y/N was the more mellow of the whole bunch though this didn’t mean much in the context of the whole family. While they happily took part in whatever trouble their siblings got up to they were at the end the first person that would try to help solve these troubles as well and took care of any wounds. To that end they soon learned how to grow their own herbs to make medicine. This was something Philza taught them. Both would spent a ton of time in the garden, so much so, that the garden was dubbed Y/N’s and Dad’s garden. Techno would sometimes help out as well but that was a more rare occurrence. Y/N was the second kid with the active Shapeshifter gene. Just like their father, two stubs appeared at their back that too would turn into huge black wings. Y/N still remembered how perplexed but proud Philza was when he understood what was happening. They didn’t know what they expected from their father but this reaction wasn’t it. But they weren’t mad about it.

The youngest of the family was Tommy and he was the number one reason why the kids got into trouble in the first place. He would wake up, make weird plans and rope the others into it as well. Wilbur was the first he would usually try to recruit to which Techno then would reluctantly join knowing that if the two are together they will need help later on. Getting Y/N on board was pretty easy as well. It was either a thing of them knowing they will one hundred percent get hurt so best to join in now or they were feeling particularly chaotic that day and wouldn’t even hesitate to join.

Back when they all lived together in their old cottage home their daily lives would always start in the same way.

Philza would be the first awake. He would wake the children up and continue downstairs to work on breakfast for everyone.

There was no real order to who would be the first downstairs for food but it was always Y/N who would be the last to join the group. Moving in front of their designated chair only to stretch before properly sitting down.

“Ew! Gross! Your wing touched my food!” Wilbur exclaimed angrily, pulling the plate with his food closer to himself and farther away from his sibling.

Y/N rolled their eyes “I’m not poisonous, Wilbur.”

“Still gross.” He muttered more to himself as he reluctantly took a bite from his toast.

Phil eyed the two but looked back down to his food and coffee “Your wings are getting pretty big. I’m sure it won’t take long until you can do more than just gliding about.”

“So, that means you can teach them to fly soon?” Tommy was the one to ask surprisingly. Sure, that was on Y/N’s mind as well so they didn’t mind Tommy saying what they thought but they still felt like it was a bad sign and a call for trouble though they couldn’t think how nor did they care enough to find out.

Philza raised one of his eyebrows, obviously taking note of that fact as well. It was something you learned to look out for once you spend enough time with Tommy. “I’m not sure how soon but I think so, yeah.”

“Cool.” Was all Tommy remarked. He then proceeded to stare at his food so his family would get their suspicion off of him. Acting as if he didn’t just figuratively plant a huge red flag on the table with the words “I have a plan!”.

Y/N on the other hand couldn’t help to smile. They were excited for the eventual day when Philza could finally teach them how to fly. For the longest time now they have only learned to use their wings to glide and got really good at changing directions while doing so. Taking care of their wings was already a pain so they wanted to get at least something good out of having them in the first place and being able to properly fly is a huge plus since getting into positions where you could actually  glide around was a difficult and a bothersome thing.

Philza sighed choosing to ignore Tommy and instead turned to look at Wilbur and Y/N “What is your plan today? Want to join me and Techno when we go into town for the tournament?”

After a few seconds of confused expressions between the two Wilbur suddenly shouted “Oh! Techno’s tournament! Of course! I wanna see him beat up other people for a change!”

Techno snorted “Really feeling the support here right now, bro.”

“I’m guessing you both are coming too?” Philza was now addressing the other two of his kids.

Both were fast and eager to agree. Wilbur was right. Usually Techno tried sparring with his siblings though using the word sparring was maybe an overstatement. He would mercilessly beat them up and complain they didn’t last long enough. At rare times where all of them were bored enough they would play a game of >Who can last the longest against Techno<. Y/N really wasn’t too big a fan of this game since they ended up being the only one who would address the wounds later including their own since they didn’t trust the others to properly apply a band aid.

From this point on the breakfast was more alive than before. Tommy and Wilbur would constantly ask questions to Techno about who he will be fighting or how everything will work. To which he all just gave a very non-committal “I dunno”.

After they all cleaned up the breakfast table, they got ready and grabbed everything they needed.

The town wasn’t super far away but it was a long enough walk that it would be inconvenient to get back for things you might have forgotten.

Techno grabbed his sword while Wilbur made sure to take his beloved guitar with him. Y/N made sure to grab all kinds of medicine and bandages with them. They knew Techno will get treated at the tournament should he get hurt but they felt better if they brought some stuff with them as well. Tommy on the other hand made sure to grab all kinds of things including a few pages of paper, pens, string and more. Philza wanted to just write it down to Tommy probably meeting up with Tubbo in town and doing harmless crafts but the chances were slim.

As they made their way to the tournament and Philza was preaching to them to not cause any trouble since there would be a lot of people there today, Y/N soon noticed how Techno would nervously play around with the hilt of his worn out sword.

They affectionately put their arm around their older brother for a short side hug, including putting their wing around him “You’ll do fine. I know it. Don’t worry too much and just imagine you are beating one of us up.”

Technoblade had to roll his eyes at that “I’ll try to take that advice to heart.”

As they arrived in town the kids looked around in awe. Everywhere were stalls set up selling food or little decorative things or toys. People where weaving in and out between stalls, loudly talking with each other. Laughter and yells filled the air.

In the middle of the town square there was a huge box marked on the ground. This is where the fights would happen. As far as Techno explained the rules were simple. Get your opponent on their back, get them out of the box or beat them unconscious. Tommy was absolutely loving the idea of Techno beating all of his opponents unconscious and said he wouldn’t take any other result as acceptable.

“Alright kiddos. Techno and I have to talk with the organizer. You three can go and have some fun but you have to promise me a few things. Whatever you guys do stay together! Don’t talk to strangers and as soon as the fights start you come over. I will find you then, okay? I will only let you guys go if you agree to this.”

“I can still try to find Tubbo, right?” Tommy asked.

“Of course but only if you all stay together.” He was looking at Wilbur when he said the last part. This meant Wilbur was the boss for today. Well until they met up again with their dad.

Wilbur put his hands on each shoulder of his younger siblings “We will! Don’t worry dad!”

Philza gave them a last nod before walking off. Before Techno followed him he looked at the three “Don’t… cause too much trouble. At least for me so nothing happens to the tournament.” With that Technoblade turned around and followed Philza closely.

“Well, what should we start with?” Y/N asked their brothers.

Tommy threw his arms in the air “Tubbo!”

Wilbur laughed “Alright. We’ll try to find your Tubbo. I’m sure he and his siblings should be around here as well.”

Tubbo was Tommy’s best friend and honestly he hangs around their home so much they almost consider him a family member as well. He had an older sister Puffy and an older brother Schlatt though. They were a curious case. All three of them carried the active Shapeshifter gene and all three begun growing horns, their ears turned into that of goats and they all had the horizontal iris’.

Y/N liked to spend time with Puffy. Just like Y/N Puffy too acted more like a caretaker to her siblings which the two soon bonded over while Schlatt and Wilbur soon hit it off as well. It was actually quite amusing to see them interacting since Wilbur was known for loving art and freedom. Schlatt on the other hand tried to see how he can scam the most people in the most effective manner in the shortest amount of time. Trying to turn in a profit at every turn. You wouldn’t immediately think they would end up being such good friends.

The three were raised by their father as well who everyone just referred to as Captain Sparklez though his real name was Jordan. He coincidentally also helped with setting up this little festival for the town.

Tommy suddenly took a deep breath in as he cupped his hands around his mouth “Tubbo!”

Wilbur furrowed his brows “Tommy, there are a ton of people around here! There is no way he heard you.”

“Tommy! Over here!” a different voice called out, away from all the stalls and people.

Wilbur and Y/N looked surprised while Tommy almost proudly smirked at them. The bond Tommy and Tubbo had was something else.

Together the three ran through the crowd to finally meet up with Tubbo and apparently his siblings. As a greeting Tubbo softly headbutted Tommy while Puffy did the same to Y/N. Schlatt never did this with Wilbur. Said he might have goat like characteristics but he is still more human than goat hence why he didn’t do this whole headbutting thing. It has been a whole ordeal with Wilbur once where he demanded to get a headbutt from Schlatt as well for a greeting. After enough prodding and being a general nuisance Schlatt decided to straight up headbutt him as hard as possible almost knocking him out and gave him a good bruise on his forehead. Wilbur never asked for another headbutt greeting since then.

Y/N gave Puffy an additional hug, making sure to wrap their wings around her as well “I’m glad to see you Puffy!”

“So am I! I heard Techno is taking part in the tournament, isn’t he?”

Schlatt was for some reason cackling at that “Oh I bet he will win, won’t he? This would be the best time for some betting!”

Tommy, Y/N and Wilbur all nodded saying things like “Of course he will win. My brother is the best”

Soon the group begun to fall into their usual banter. Tommy and Tubbo were doing something next to them, only sometimes getting back into the conversation. Schlatt and Wilbur on the other hand were talking about how they could start bets and maybe earn some money because surely Techno will win. Y/N and Puffy listened in only to interject at times to root them back down. Both made sure they wouldn’t end up doing anything too stupid, though they too were in on it and ready to help out.

In the end the whole group was sitting on the ground and writing their plan down on the paper Tommy brought with him as suddenly a loud voice boomed over the crowd announcing that the fighting tournament will soon begin.

Tubbo looked absolutely horrified “No! I didn’t have a chance to check out the candy yet!”

Schaltt sighed and gave Tubbo a reassuring pat on his back “Don’t worry kiddo they will still be here after the tournament.”

With that the group begun walking to the marked place for the fighting. All the while Schlatt was grumbling that this was way too early and he couldn’t act on his betting plans.

“There are a lot of people.” Y/N noted as they came closer to their goal.

Indeed there were a surprising amount of people standing around the place. If it was difficult to get through the crowd before, now it seemed almost impossible. It was almost comical how the crowd seemingly turned into a wall of steel as the announcer begun his speech in order to greet all the people watching.

“Ugh, I can barely see anything.” Wilbur whined as he moved on his toes. Wilbur was the tallest of the group so when he had problems seeing anything Y/N instinctively already gave up. Maybe one day it would be the other way around seeing as they all were still growing but for now this was the reality of the situation.

Tommy was frantically jumping into the air trying to see anything that happened. He didn’t say it but he wanted to make sure to not miss out on any second of Techno’s fights. He was his older brother after all.

“Hey, Schlatt?” Tubbo almost whispered as he tugged at his older brother’s shirt.

Schlatt barely made any proper attempt to look over the crowd probably still busy thinking about his lost business opportunity. He tilted his head down to look at Tubbo “Hm?”

Suddenly Tubbo’s unsure expression turned into a serious one. While Wilbur, Tommy and Y/N were confused about this, Puffy begun to snicker.

“Aw, come on!” Schlatt drawled out but as soon as Tubbo got his pouting face out it was over for him.

He rolled his eyes and knelt down. With the help of Puffy, Tubbo was soon sitting on Schlatt’s shoulders, overlooking the crowd.

For some reason Tommy looked absolutely betrayed “This is unfair!”

“And why is that?” was all that Tubbo asked smugly. He was grabbing onto Schlatt’s horns which lead to him involuntarily yanking around his head whenever Tubbo himself moved around. Annoyed Schlatt gave his younger brother a playful slap on his arm as a sign to knock it off.

Tommy crossed his arms “Hey, Wilby! Wait no, I’m not a child anymore.”

Before Wilbur could even do his obligatory cooing whenever Tommy used his nickname or before Y/N could remind him that he was indeed still a child and younger than Tubbo he turned towards them instead.

“Y/N! You carry me and fly up that is way cooler than sitting on someone’s shoulders like some two year old.”

This took Y/N quite by surprise “What?”

“Dad said you are ready to fly and you spent like most of your free time already gliding or flying about so like basically the same thing right?”

“No! This is completely different! Besides I’m pretty sure my wings right now are barely able to carry my own weight! To that I have no idea how to take off from ground!”

Tommy’s bottom lip begun to quiver. Both Wilbur and Y/N knew it was fake but it was still a weakness for the two.

Y/N tried grabbing Wilbur’s sleeve for support but he was already looking at them with sad eyes himself “I mean Tommy just wants to see his big brother win, which is understandable right? At least worth a try?”

It was Y/N’s time to look betrayed but their expression soon got exchange by that one of defeat “One… One try. If that doesn’t work out I will give up.”

So the group walked back away from the crowd to have more space, Tubbo still happily sitting on Schlatt’s shoulders. He looked annoyed but Puffy knew that he was just as happy as she was that Tubbo had obviously a good time.

Y/N would spent a few minutes just trying to take off the ground on their own saying that they would first need to be a bit in the air before being able to grab Tommy. Wilbur was just watching with an amused smile on his face. Oh he was almost certain how this will end in disaster but he was just too curious to see how exactly.

After multiple running starts Y/N managed to get a few feet off into the air, flying directly towards Tommy so they could pick him up. They more or less bodychecked into their younger brother but still managed to pick him up and for a short moment it looked like the two were indeed a few feet above the height of the crowd.

Tommy was screaming partially out of fear but partially out of excitement. Y/N was so concentrated on flying and holding onto Tommy they didn’t even try to look out for Techno on the ground. They stayed semi stable in the air for good two seconds before both suddenly noticed they were losing altitude rapidly.

Now both were screaming as Y/N desperately tried to glide towards the hay bails that the town put up as decoration but with the added weight of Tommy they still plummeted towards the ground pretty fast.

The next thing Y/N remembers was that they were surrounded by hay and that their whole body was feeling heavy and sore. Tommy was groaning as he tried his best to get out of the hay and off their sibling while Y/N first made sure to calmly fold their wings back against their back as they slowly got out of the hay as well.

Suddenly two strong hands grabbed the still disoriented Y/N and helped them properly back to their feet only to be met by an angry looking Philza.

“What on Ender were you thinking?”

“Oh hey dad!” Y/N croaked out as they avoided any eye contact with him. Instead they were busy plucking hay out of their wings. Due to the fall there was a lot of hay trapped between feathers, there were also a few bent feathers that felt uncomfortable at best.

Tommy was sheepishly standing next to them also avoiding eye contact.

“I told you to get to the tournament and wait for me! I told you guys I would make sure to find you so why did you do whatever the hell you just did?” Philza rambled off.

“Yeah guys why did you two do that?” Wilbur was now approaching his family as well, including their other three friends who followed suit.

Y/N let go of their wing as they turned towards their older brother with an angry frown “You encouraged us! Don’t act like you are the only innocent person here! Aren’t you as our big brother supposed to stop us or something when we are stupid?”

Philza sighed “Okay, we deal with this later but at least tell me why?”

“We wanted to see Techno but we couldn’t get past the crowd!” Tommy answered.

“My fights will only start in like half an hour dude. Didn’t you guys listen to the announcements?”

To their surprise Technoblade appeared from behind Philza. He looked bored but still had a somewhat smug smile on his face. Who wouldn’t feel a tiny big smug when your younger siblings gets into trouble with dad for something that was absolutely their fault and you were luckily this time no part of it.

“You three are in trouble! We will go back so Techno won’t be too late for when it’s his turn but once we are back home it’s three weeks of chores for all of you.”

This earned him a murmur of “Okay, dad.” And “But we didn’t do anything bad!”

After that the day ended up pretty normally. They had their trouble for the day so they continued on with following Philza back to the tournament place. He made sure that all the kids had the best places in front so they could watch as Techno absolutely destroyed the other kids.

Jordan joined them as well. Philza didn’t spend any time waiting on telling him how Y/N and Tommy crashed into one of his decorations. He wasn’t angry but did chew out his own kids a little bit for not even attempting to stop them.

For some reason this was the day Y/N always fondly thought back on. They got into their typical trouble that day but also spend a ton of time with their family and friends back in their hometown. Enjoying seeing Techno beat others up and of course winning the tournament to which then Phil and Jordan bought the kids a ton of candy from the stalls.

Yes, they loved their family so dearly and would do anything for them.

So when a letter arrived from Wilbur that informed them that a few days ago a friend betrayed him which led to him losing his first life of three as well for Tommy, Tubbo and their nephew Fundy it felt like their heart got ripped out of their chest.

Y/N was still living at their old childhood home with Philza but both were only rarely at home. The two traveled around the world independently from each other using the old cottage as a place to rest in between. Wilbur probably addressed the letter knowing that this was the most reliable way to contact his family.

Reaching Technoblade who was training out of country was almost impossible at this point in time.

Y/N got out a piece of paper and wrote a letter for their father.

“Dad, I’m going to visit Wil and Tommy. Love, Y/N”

This was all that needed to be said.

They put the letter including the letter from Wilbur visibly on the table so Philza would see it as soon as he got back home. They did this sometimes in order to talk to Philza as well as the other way around so both were always looking out for messages on the table once they got back home.

Y/N grabbed their old netherite sword they got way back from Techno as a gift and begun thinking about what to take with them for the flight towards L’Manberg. If they fly it would only take a few days to reach the place but they also couldn’t carry a lot of things with them.

“Hell of a reason to visit your family after a long time, huh.”

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Imagine Being a Musician and Losing the Ability to Play

(Alternative title: Music in You)

Word Count: 950

A/N: Requested by anonymous. Wound up longer than most imagines, so enjoy!

If your parents were to be believed, then your love of music had started when you were a baby. They could rock, bounce, coo, and talk until their arms were sore and their throats hoarse, but sometimes you would never settle. The only thing that calmed you every single time was a melody.

Elementary school brought a slew of potential interests and new experiences, but the one that you remembered most clearly was seeing the music students perform during an assembly. Starry-eyed, you knew exactly what you wanted to do. Knowing your affinity for music, your guardians let you take your pick of the instruments and invested in your skills.

That investment paid off in the end. Musical talent and hard-earned skill paid most of your tuition through a college scholarship, and some years after graduating, you landed a full-time position with a professional ensemble. Now you played for hours every night, from Thursday to Sunday, and practiced even more. You were living comfortably while doing what you loved.

The day a doctor came into your hospital room and told you the prognosis of your injuries, you felt like your entire world was crumbling down around you. The very foundation of not just your livelihood, but your life, was shattered by the same accident that had shattered several bones in your hand, including fingers. The extensive hand trauma ensured you wouldn’t be playing your instrument for weeks, but more realistically, months.

“Even then,” the doctor cautioned, sympathetically frowning, “Full recovery is not the same as new condition. You’ll likely find you have difficulty carrying out the same motions, particularly over extended periods of time.”

“No,” you denied flatly. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. “No, I’m a musician, I need both of my hands. Whatever it costs. Fix it.”

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m afraid it isn’t a question of expense. It’s a question of human anatomy.” The doctor was firm as she refused to let you get your hopes up. You needed to make your mental adjustments now so that mind and body were on the same page as you healed. Briskly, but not unkindly, she added, “The insertion site of the pins may feel very itchy soon. Don’t itch; call for a nurse. We can get you a topical numbing agent.”

You sat there in shock after she left. Part of you wanted to scream after her but the other part wanted to curl in a ball and sob until you woke up in bed, safe and sound and with both hands completely functional.

A kind nurse, worried by your quietness and stillness, offered to call someone for you, so you gave her Neal’s phone number. She left the room, presumably to call him, and your mind slowly began grinding into motion again. What were you going to do? You had the savings for a few months, but not much longer. How were you going to tell your coworkers, your employer? What about the terms of your contract – was there a clause letting you out if you were too injured, or would you be in breach for not playing? How were you ever going to be happy when your strongest passion was being taken away by force, through something that wasn’t your fault?

By the time Neal arrived, you were crying to yourself, consciously choosing not to scratch at your very itchy bandaged hand and trying to self-soothe with the melody of your favorite classical piece. Your humming wasn’t working; it was too broken up by your sobs. The melody itself reminded you that you wouldn’t be able to play it for a very long time, and possibly never play professionally again. The hours you spent practicing every day were going to be painfully empty. There went the peace and the joy of creating aural beauty.

It took a lot of gentle coaxing and patience, but Neal was able to wring the whole story from you about what had happened and what the doctor warned. As an artist who relied on his hands, you knew that he would understand better than most how crippled, frightened, and robbed you felt. After all, paint and sculpture were the visual versions of the stories you told through music. Your crafts were opposite sides of the same coin.

“My whole life is gone,” you whimpered, barely holding in more cries. Any embarrassment you might have felt about Neal seeing you bawl like a kid was overridden by your devastation and anxiety.

“Your whole life isn’t gone,” Neal comforted patiently, putting his hand on your back and slowly rubbing in circles. He scooted his chair closer to your bedside with a screeching sound that made him wince. “Music enriches your life, but it doesn’t create you. You have other interests, friends, and ambitions. You can still listen and sing to music, and no one said you can never play again, either.”

“But my hand!” You gasped for air, leaning to the side. Neal wrapped his other arm around you in a hug, holding you against his chest. “I can’t do the one thing I’ve always loved!”

“You can’t do it professionally,” Neal corrected you sternly. His touch was the opposite – soft and gentle. “At least not right now.” The hand on your back stilled. He put his fingers under your chin until you looked up at him, and then he met your eyes with his calm, clear, and certain blue ones. “Rigorous professional or passionate hobbyist, it doesn’t matter. You’re a musician and music is in you.” Neal kissed your forehead as you sniffled, his words striking a chord inside you and helping you to finally start to settle. “Nothing can take that away.”

[magdaclaire]

It’s Gabriel Day! 

Prompts: Spontaneity and Music. 

I also filled my square of Time Loops and Secret Caretaking for the Heaven and Hell Bingo and the Bad Things Happen Bingo respectively, so I’m prefacing the fic with the minutiae for the bingos first. 

Link: Find it on Ao3

Square Filled: Time Loops (Heaven and Hell Bingo) and Secret Caretaking (Bad Things Happen Bingo)

Ship: Gabriel & Raphael

Rating: Gen

Tags: Archangels, Time Loop, Secret Caretaking, Light Angst, Yearning, Nostalgia

Summary: Long before the days of Sam and Dean Winchester, the first being that the archangel Gabriel (and part time trickster Loki, if one would like to get technical) put into time loops was himself.

Word Count: 1050

Created for @spnarchangelweek & @heavenandhellbingo & @badthingshappenbingo​

Fic under the cut!

hiraeth

Long before the days of Sam and Dean Winchester, the first being that the archangel Gabriel (and part time trickster Loki, if one would like to get technical) put into time loops was himself. And Raphael, though he would argue that she doesn’t really count. She’s his brother. His twin. The other side of his truly charming coin. She perfected her healing on the inside of one of his time pockets, given years padded into the cozy space of one of Heaven’s dreary afternoons. The time pockets, as they are, are perfectly safe, Michael. For his younger years, Gabriel mostly uses them as a method of developing his skills; he’s not one for being unskilled in things in front of any of the angels, as he knows that they see the archangels as unbridled authority figures under their Father. He’d hate to break that kind of… borderline idolization. It’s nice to be loved like that. 

When his brothers go to war and there is more fighting in Heaven than Gabriel ever thought there could be (there has always been war in Heaven, angels have always been soldiers, but Lucifer was a lawyer, Michael raised them), his pockets of time, their looping safety, become a haven. He creates them in fits of spontaneity, unable to flit further across Heaven and deliver another death notification, wanting to cut off the communication streaming endlessly in his head for just a moment. He plays his music, picks instruments that Lucifer would love the sound of and tells himself that he does not miss his betrayer brother (he had always been Lucifer’s favorite, he thinks), and tries not to sob. He plays music until he feels some semblance of calm again, and then he leaves. The looping of time makes sure that it hasn’t been any more than an hour by the time he returns. 

One particular time, Raphael catches on the edges of his wings, and she follows him into the loop. It figures that she knows about them. She probably knows every single thought in his head, if he’s not careful about it. She probably knows everything about everything, honestly. Even though they had always been the same age, she had taught him things since they were fledglings, taught him how to fly when Lucifer had made games of pushing them off of ledges (he had never meant anything by it, he had just wanted them to fly too, he was such a small thing, a bright thing, nothing but a puff of feathers himself). Michael likely thinks he holds secrets from her, but Gabriel doubts it. Raphael has always been their wisest brother. 

“Gabriel, I’m unsure how long this can continue,” she says as soon as the loop settles around them, the tiny setting of the log cabin he usually chooses shivering around the unexpected weight of holding both of their large forms. It’s not strictly a real place, just one he crafts, so it adjusts after a moment of this, the extension of his grace flourishing under the larger piece of it he allows it to take. He focuses back on his brother. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, though he can likely guess. Michael had never liked it when he played with time. If he has any idea, his temper is already short these days. Raphael sighs. 

“I’ve done as much as I can to keep this under the scope of Michael’s attention, but there is only so much I can do,” she says, the words coming out as if they strain her to say, as if they are an admission she is loath to give to him. In this bitterness that the war has given him, he’s forgotten just how much his brother has always protected him. With this great weakness within him, he misses the days in which one could not look between his wings without finding Raphael, and vice versa given that they were always so close. The days when they were fledglings and Michael could hardly drag them apart to bathe them, to carry them upon his great heights (he hardly seems so much larger now, he used to be so much larger), to make everything such an adventure just so that they would separate. Gabriel misses the days when they would never separate. 

“How long have you known?” he asks, curiosity more than anything, but he has a feeling he knows. She smiles. 

“I felt it the first time you slipped through one without telling me. The displacement of you, however subtle you think you may be, is hard to miss,” she replies, and then her smile slips. His gaze hits the floor before he can help it. “Soon, even in his occupation, Michael will begin to realize as well, you know. I have deceived him where I could, but Gabriel-” 

“You deceived Michael for me?” he interrupts, looking at her once again, open vulnerability cracking open his expression in a manner that he cannot shutter. He and Raphael, they are- they’ve always been- but Michael. He is their viceroy. There is no deceiving their viceroy. Raphael holds his gaze. 

“Where I could. He is not in his right mind of current, Gabriel. It is his job to lead, and yours to carry the word, but it is mine to assure that there is something left standing when all of it is done. What that looks like, that is up to me. That is my discretion,” she says, her voice a stone thing, and Gabriel looks at where his twin once stood and sees an archangel grown from a circumstance he thinks he might be tired of living through. That is not a very angelic thought, however. He pushes it off. For now. 

“You think I need to get different hobbies, huh?” Gabriel replies, injecting levity into a conversation that has absolutely none, because that’s what he does, because actually engaging with things on a genuine level might kill him one day. Hell, it might even do it twice. Raphael graces him with a roll of her eyes (as many of them as there are), and a snort of what might be piteous laughter. He’ll take it. 

“Sure, brother. Different hobbies,” she says, and then she drags him out of his own time loop. Rude. 

[archerdaryl]

London in Your Eyes.

After pulling your name for Secret Santa, Daryl comes and finds you at the Christmas fair. Inspired by Last December by Nina Nesbitt.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Tags: cute christmas vibes, sfw, a lil sad a lil fluffy a lil slow burn?? Word Count: around 3k Notes: This is my very first fanfiction I’ve written in literal years -- I’d love to hear what you guys think as I’m a little nervous but I hope you enjoy it!!

Against the soft blankets of snow that had long settled since the beginning of December, flashes of red and green could be seen wherever you looked from the guard tower. Amongst them were shadows you recognised, the figures of the people weaving themselves in and out of various stalls that had been set up for the Christmas fair.

You wanted to object to it the first time The King brought it up, especially after the events that occurred at the original. It seemed futile, you weren’t sure you could take another massacre, and it was too God damn cold to be lingering outside. And yet, you folded.

You couldn’t argue with hope. And if Ezekial was good at anything, it was inspiring just that.

Snowflakes had begun to dance in the evening air once more as you diverted your attention back towards the forest that surrounded the walls. You could hear Luke sing what sounded like a song you used to know but couldn’t quite make out as he made his way to his stall where he had wooden instruments up for trade. Down the same lane were various baked goods and crafts made by different members of the community. The kids even had their own art stall, endearingly decorated with looped paper covered in paint and cotton wool shaped into snowmen.

Ezekiel had asked if you wanted to contribute anything. You declined, not because you didn’t want to help but because playing pretend had never been something you were good at -- even as a kid yourself. And especially at Christmas time.

Of course, you played it off a lot more casually than that. You weren’t one to divulge the details of traumas that no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. After making fun of your lack of artistic talent you insisted on keeping watch for the majority of the evening so that everyone else could enjoy what the fair had to offer. You knew where you stood in that tower. You couldn’t feel the tip of your nose and you had to keep bouncing your knees to maintain circulation, but you felt secure.

You brought your gloved hands up to your mouth and huffed, allowing the warmth to wash over your fingers. You had been up there for several hours now and the most exciting thing to happened was a walker in a hard hat causing a scene by clanging its head against the metal walls. Someone else manning the perimeter had dealt with it, taking what little entertainment you could have had away from you, but at least no one had to worry about an oncoming herd.

“Hey.”

You turned swiftly towards a voice drenched in a Southern drawl, eyebrows raised in surprise knitting themselves together.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Doin’ wha’?”

“Sneaking up on me.”

Daryl Dixon was one of few people who got the jump on you and it was equal parts annoying and endearing. You stood upright from the post you had been leaning on and took a couple of steps towards him, eyes adjusting to his height as you did so.

“Didn’ mean to.” He confessed, “Thought you might be bored.”

“Maybe a little.” You sighed, “I’m mostly just cold.”

He watched you carefully, one hand fiddling with something in his jacket pocket while the other swung at his side holding a large flask. Your cheeks and nose were pink and he found himself indebted to the harsh winds that were to blame.

“Is that-”

“Mulled wine.” He interrupted, “Whatever tha’ is.”

The pair of you had been dancing around something unspoken for the past year, aware but unwilling to cross a line that could ruin the comfort you found in each other. That and you had both seen what happened to people who got attached to others. It was uncharted territory neither of you had ventured into with anyone for a long long time, and though he often daydreamed of you like a teenager and you were constantly worrying about him, the risk seemed too much.

“You’ve never had mulled wine?” You asked curiously, taking the flask he handed to you and shivering slightly as you wrapped your palms around it, “It’s really good actually. And hot.”

The question may as well have been rhetorical. The pair of you hadn’t shared a great deal about your lives before the dead took over, but he had told you enough that you knew Daryl was raised on beer and moonshine. You cared for neither, admittedly. Gin had always been your vice.

“Besides, I thought you liked to drink alone Dixon.”

He exhaled in amusement but didn’t offer a retort. Instead he stepped towards the cabinet at the back of the watch tower and retrieved a large blanket. Your mouth practically dropped to the floor and he fought a smile from creeping onto his lips.

You hadn’t even thought to check. Your cheeks grew even pinker.

“C’mon. Ain’t’ nothin’ happenin’ in the next ten minutes.”

With furrowed brows you looked back out onto the forest, studying its movement and mystery. Chances are, he was right. Nothing had happened so far and nothing likely would, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Don’ make me take back tha’ wine.”

“No! Don’t you dare.” You whipped your head back towards him and narrowed your eyes. “It’s warm.”

“So’s this blanket. Come on.”

You made a point of rolling your eyes as you followed Daryl out onto the deck. Before you could complain about the cold (which honestly wasn’t that much worse than inside the tower) Daryl had shook out the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders. You mumbled a thank you as he lowered himself to the ground and allowed his legs to swing free over the edge of the deck. You followed suit, the flask of hot mulled wine still between your hands acting like your own personal furnace.

It was darker now and hundreds of lights had been switched on so that people could still find their way around the fair. Even you couldn’t deny the wonder and whimsy of it all. Kids were throwing snowballs, families were laughing and making memories that were worth something. There was makeshift tinsel and decorations all over the place and the rich scent of pig and apple sauce hung in the air. In the sweet silence you shared with the archer, there was a moment you forgot where you were. The world you now lived in was an afterthought, and the Christmas fair was an almost perfect picture of somewhere you yearned to be.  

Daryl noticed the unmistakable twinkle of mourning in your eyes before you could even try to force a smile. He reached for the flask and took it from you, unscrewing its lid and pouring you a cup of mulled wine. He took a swig straight from the bottle and though he furrowed his brows and smelled the contents immediately afterwards, he didn’t complain.

“Ain’t ever seen nothin’ like this.” He offered.

You took a large sip and closed your eyes, savouring every note that swam across your tongue.

“I have. A long time ago.”

“Yeah?”

Your eyes flit open and you looked right at him. In what little light was left you could see his lips were already slightly stained red. You didn’t doubt your own were the same. He watched your mouth as you took another sip.

“My family was close. Always saved up their holidays so we could get a long Christmas together.” You found yourself lowering your gaze as you spoke, soon returning it to the hustle and bustle before you,  “Spent a couple years in London. They had markets just like these. Winter Wonderland I think they called it. Never thought I’d see anything like it again.”

It was abundantly clear from the very beginning that the pair of you had led very different lives before the world went to waste. He liked talking about his past even less than you did and for very different reasons too. You never pushed like some of the other’s did. In the end that was likely what pushed you both together.

“It’s funny how shit like that sneaks up on you.” You continued, “Every time I think I’ve moved on or let something go it just… I don’t know. None of this should even matter anymore.”

“You got a past worth rememberin’.” You felt a large hand tug at the blanket hanging around you, pulling it to make sure it didn’t fall, “Ain’t no shame in that.”

In truth, Daryl enjoyed listening to you reminisce. It was a rare gift you offered him, one that he would have found annoying from anyone else considering the stark differences in your upbringing. But you spoke about your past like you were telling a story, keeping that little bit of distance so it didn’t wash over you all at once. Whether you knew it or not, you handed him another puzzle piece every time you let him in. He could sit there and listen to you for hours. He wanted to.

A calloused hand found its way into his jacket once again, fiddling with a small object wrapped in aluminium foil. Now didn’t seem appropriate. They still had time.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” His cheeks said otherwise, “Wines doing the trick.”

You pulled your legs up and shimmied a little closer to him to him anyways before forcing your arm through his. He didn’t object, not even when you leaned on him a little.

“What other shit did they have in London?” He pushed.

“Mulled cider. That’s probably more up your street” You took your last sip before nudging him to top the cup up, “I used to love these little pancake balls covered in Nutella, strawberries, and icing sugar. Wasn’t Winter Wonderland unless I was covered in chocolate by the end of it.”

Daryl slowly lowered the side of his head down onto yours. It didn’t feel like too much, like you’d suddenly catch yourself and make excuses to go back on watch. Instead, you kept talking, and Daryl kept fiddling with the gift in his pocket.

“I remember it being loud. Music and people everywhere. And it was cold, but never as cold as this. Didn’t really snow there, which I always thought was weird.”

“If you wan’ loud I heard Luke and Jerry were gon’ go carollin’ later.”

A chuckle escaped you as you took another gulp of wine, “You know what, I think I’ll stay up here.”

Comfortable silence took over as you both watched the fair. It had barely quietened down, even though a lot of people had begun their ride back to Hilltop or Alexandria. It was the first time in a long time that there wasn’t a human threat to worry about, so why wouldn’t people make the most of a time like this? You only wished you could let go like others could.

“Oh, shit.” You sat up suddenly, “I forgot about that Secret Santa thing Jerry made us do.”

“Who’s name d’ya pull?”

“It’s supposed to be Secret Santa.” You paused and sighed, “I pulled Jesus. Is this irony? It feels ironic. I’ll figure it out.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Daryl’s lips as he leaned forward onto the wooden barrier keeping them from falling if either of them were to take a wrong step. He felt something gnawing at him in the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed hard in a futile attempt to get rid of it before clearing his throat.

“Who’s name did you pull?”

“Like ya’ said, it’s Secret Santa.” He grumbled.

You rotated yourself slightly to face him, allowing just one leg to hang free from the deck whilst the other was bent at the knee. 

“Don’t be an asshole, Dixon.” You pleaded, “Tell me!”

“Mind ya’ business.”

“Unless it’s me I don’t see why you can’t tell me.”

Daryl stayed quiet and you couldn’t help but laugh in both amusement and disbelief.

“You’re kidding. Did you really get me something?”

“Will you shut up? You ain’t even s’posed t’ know.”

He finally turned his head to find you unable to suppress the grin spreading across your face. Your eyes were twinkling again, but not with the sadness of earlier. That paired with the blush on your nose and cheeks from the cold and your little hands clinging desperately to the blanket around you made it impossible to say no. That gnawing feeling grew and he took a large breath before retrieving his hand from his pocket.

“Don’ tell Jerry.”

He passed you an strangely shaped object covered in aluminium foil. You took it from him and beamed. You weren’t sure why you were surprised he actually got you something. Maybe it was the fact he thought to wrap it at all, or that he was trying to follow the rules so it really would be a surprise. Would you have ever known it was him if you hadn’t pestered him in this moment? You held the gift in your hands as if it could break at any second whilst your heart was attempting to beat itself out of your chest.

“Do you want me to wait?” You asked, just in case, “I can open it later.”

Daryl shook his head and grabbed the flask again, taking several gulps to warm up his insides. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, studying your features carefully waiting for a sign of repulsion or embarrassment. It never came and without realising it his own features softened.

“It’s yours. Sorry I couldn’ find any paper.”

“It’s shiny and it serves its purpose.” You responded without hesitation, “It’s perfect.”

You carefully unfolded the foil in a futile attempt not to tear it and destroy the fantasy Daryl had created for you. The intricate motions felt painfully slow, and with every layer you tore away the nastier the self-deprecation in his head got. He felt stupid for trying. Was it too much? Was it not enough? He had no fuckin’ idea. Even before the world went to shit he didn’t come from the kind of family that exchanged gifts. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t. All he could do was drink and bite at the skin of his lips until they bled.

“Oh my god.”

He swallowed hard and braced himself for the worst. Your eyebrows were drawn together as you studied the object in all its detail. Eventually you shook it, and you grinned again.

“Where the hell did you find something like this?”

It was a snowglobe, somehow perfectly intact despite the number of years it had been collecting dust in a world full of violence and filth. Daryl had stumbled upon it on a run where he had found a strip of houses to loot. It was sat on a mantelpiece, and though Daryl didn’t know much about England or even London, he knew about Big Ben.

You shook it again and laughed. He watched you gaze at it in wonder, eyeing the details on the clock tower as plastic snow danced around it. Most of his anxieties melted away at the sight of that alone, but he still felt uneasy, as if he had done something wrong.

“I love it, Daryl. I didn’t even realise I’d spoken about London before.”

He nodded, his words stuck in the back of his throat. You had only mentioned London once before, something in passing, but he remembered. He remembered everything you said to him over the years. Maybe that was why this felt so wrong, as if he had taken this -- whatever this is -- too far.

Your heart was still thumping. Daryl had never been a talker, but he’d also never failed to show you that he cared. Even just by doing little things like making sure you ate properly or were sleeping okay. This was a different kind of show and tell and you weren’t sure what to do with it. 

Your affection for the archer had snuck up on you a long time ago and you usually found it quite easy to push it down and away. There were other things to concern yourself with, things to do to make sure not just you but your community could survive. But right now you were stuck in a loop. Behind his grouchy disposition was a warmth you desperately wanted to wrap yourself in.

The blanket wasn’t enough. Not right now. 

“It’s nothin’.” He finally responded, and this time you were lost for words.

You turned back towards the fair, avoiding his blue gaze as you thought to yourself. Neither of you knew what the hell this was or what the hell you were doing. You had spent so much time ignoring or rejecting the possibility of something more that now it had slapped you both across the face you were dumbfounded.

Was it supposed to be this complicated? This confusing? Or was it actually not at all and you were both just useless at all of this?

Tomorrow things would likely carry on as normal but right now, things were different. Something had shifted and it was entirely possibly you had been forced into the uncharted territory you were both so scared of. 

You swallowed hard shimmied closer to him again. Using your free arm, you tried to fling half of the blanket around his broad shoulders. It fell off of him immediately, but he didn’t question it. He picked it up, nudged closer to you, and wrapped it around himself.

A sigh of relief escaped you. Not just because he took the blanket but because he was practically a radiator. 

“I knew you were cold.” Your words were soft, almost hesitant despite being teasing.

Daryl looked down at you, his tongue flitting across his bottom lip as he watched you watch the world go by at the Christmas fair. He carefully sought out your hand with his own, and without even thinking about it you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his.

“You’re the one wi’ blue fingers.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder again with a smile and allowed whatever excuses he made to comfort him. The fact you didn’t pull away was enough, and though he always knew you wouldn’t be as rough and calloused as he was, he couldn’t quite get over how soft your fingers were.

“Did you want to look around the fair?”

He allowed his thumb to glide across the back of your hand.

“Nah. I like it up here.”