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for-a-longlongtime · 1 year

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Songs and musings in the Key of Peña-Rockford

(Those gun holsters have me all fucked up. Seriously.)

I warned y'all about how obsessive my hyperfocus can get, right? Damn ADHD. The choke hold (all the puns intended) that this fic idea has on me is unreal, haha. But all of your comments and encouragements about this Rockford Pena WIP are making me so happy and relieving some of the stress I feel about writing it - thank you! I don't have another snippet to share just yet (so I hope this post isn't too much of a cock tease), but since I always love to read about character thots and writing processes (e.g. the extra posts by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings about her Destiny & Deliverance series, and @gracieispunk with her White Lotus posts), I figured I'd post a little update with some musings and songs I'm associating with this fic.

My Spotify currently is curated by @sin-djarin, who somehow knew just the right songs that relate to this WIP. Particularly these three tracks are on constant repeat. Going back and forth with her about little things that come up, or question ‘why this and not’ has been so much fun really. It makes me giddy because it turns the fic into something collaborative rather than just something from the inside of my brain, you know?

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Whisper - Morphine

I included this track the other day already with the WIP snippet; it’s sexy and slow and that bass line really gets to me, then the saxophone ups it even more. @sin-djarin sent me several Morphine songs (I have to admit that somehow I wasn’t familiar with them) but this one stands out. The push and pull that’s happening in the lyrics is also delicious, and a lot of it feels like it’s coming from Rockford’s POV about Javi - that’s all I’ll say about it for now.

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A Perfect Twist - Mike Patton

This song has an exuberant, rather bombastic vibe to it that I would’ve never associated with anything related to Peña. Although, those lyrics... they are definitely about brat taming.

I'll bend you over my knee Let's see what you can take You're never gonna break

And I'll squeeze that noose a little tighter Breathing like a snake How much can you take? You're never gonna break

And I'll turn those screws a little tighter You can hardly wait You're never gonna break

Just one more twist of the pliers Got you on the brink How much can you take? You're never gonna break

There’s something about the dizzying tune and pace that somehow evokes the noir-like Rockford vibes in the Merge Mansion clips, laced with liquor and cigarette smoke and things spinning kinda out of control.

Wait who said Masquerade Mansion? 🎭

In relation to these two?

Shhhh let’s pretend you didn’t see that. Keep your eyes wide shut. 🎭

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Broad Daylight - Gabriel Rios

This is the only song that suddenly came to me re: this fic, and I was all… the fuck is this. I like the song, it's catchy, but it just didn’t make any sense to me with regard to Javi and Tim. The only thing I could think of in relation to the track was maybe a vague reference of Peña getting caught up with Los Pepes, things that were done in the dark and shouldn't come out in the daylight:

Back in the old days, tight like a fight Used to hang with the devil in the broad daylight

But still, it puzzled me. I think something in one of the Morphine songs musically led me to Broad Daylight, weird as that may sound. After way too many replays of that song (and @sin-djarin joking about 'what are those Polaroids Tim has on Javi?', since the song mentions polaroids), the relevance of the song finally clicked with me;

Look at you shaking you can't find his plight Got you scared of ghosts in the dead of night While you're making up stories trying to make it ok He'll be bringing them in to let them out and play In the broad daylight

We'll see how it goes from there.

At some point, there's also going to be a bit of Marcus Pike in the fic (pancakes!). I have to be honest - I don’t really read a lot of Marcus!fic, so I’ve been trying to figure out how he fits in and some of his character traits etc. But the wonderful @secretelephanttattoo was very quick to offer me some insights about Marcus that I needed! Go read it here.

TBH, I had absolutely not planned to write anything about Peña any time soon, because why I love him in canon and in the many fics I've read, I didn't exactly feel like I had a good enough handle on writing something about him that has some plot rather than just fucking. But then this fic idea popped up. If there's anyone who knows him really well, it's @goodwithcheese (you'd better be reading her incredible new story Paranoid Heart about Javi!). So I dropped some questions and fortunately she was totally up for some character chat right here, which is really helping me figure out some things. Thank you babe, and I hope more people will contribute thots to your 1K Celebration Confessional about their sins!

Also, I've been trying to put a time and place to the fic, but I've decided to not get too hung up about that because it's really not literature but Fic/Porn With Plot. It doesn't all have to make sense. But in case you're curious, I'm leaning towards this taking place in the US in recent enough times that smartphones are a thing.

Age wise, I'm seeing Tim Rockford as being 48/50 years old probably. Javier is about 40, 41 years old - just to give you an idea of 'which Javi' I'm looking at, I've got a sense of him as he is in Narcos S2 around episode 4-9, after Carillo is murdered, and Berna takes him to see Judy Moncada.

Reader insert (I know, I haven't spoken a lot about her yet!) is probably about 40 years old too. And finally, Marcus Pike is give r take about 37 years old, which corresponds with his Mentalist appearance.

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BTW, I came across an edit that had all of the Tim Rockford bits from the ads without the additional stuff. A whopping total of 48 seconds. Man, I hope that Pedro is aware of how fucked up he has us about Rockford with less than a minute of his acting. Even my wife said 'I would totally watch a show or movie based on this character' when I played the Merge Mansion ads for her.

Finally, here's a video of Pedro talking about "real fantasy fullfillment in terms of getting to immerse yourself in an experience" and how he "loves being a detective, that's fantasy fullfilment for me" re: the Merge Mansion event day.

*hits replay*

Say 'fantasy fullfillment' one more time? Respectfully.

Like I said, I hope he knows how fucked up he has us all about Rockford. I sure am glad he did these ads and whatever he got paid, it sure wasn't enough.

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Updated tag list (comment if you want to be added, or if I added you by accident!) based on folks who commented/reblogged on the prev posts:

@sin-djarin @legendary-pink-dot @imalrightllama @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @linzels-blog @rifflovesjoey @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @morallyinept @5oh5 @missredherring @avastrasposts @anavatazes @imaswellkid @pedrit0-pascalit0 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @survivingandenduring @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @sheepdogchick3 @inept-the-magnificent @northernwindd @alltheglitterandtheroar @readingiskeepingmegoing @txlady37 @rebel-held @alwaysmicado @heareball @clawdee @covetyou @bellsbluebrd @alltheglitterandtheroar @axshadows @casa-boiardi @bastardmandennis @stealyourblorbos @chronically-ghosted @katw474 @beabliss @nerdieforpedro

I don't know why some usernames don't seem to link when I try to tag them, btw. Does anyone have any suggestions on how to fix this?

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some-pers0n · 10 months

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Hey guys I was gonna reblog to @avianreptiles's cool reblog thread of your current art WIPs (which you totally should do)(sharing art is cool) andddd I wanted to share something myself. But I didn't write it yet. I then got carried away with writing it. Here ya go.

It's a scene from my Albatross fic that I've been trying to figure out how to do for a while. It's framed as a oneshot for now, but yeah it'll be integrated later on. It features a dead wife and sad aromantic Albatross.

Reblogs are always appreciated!! I adore seeing the notes people leave behind. They make me giggle and kick my feet. I love you guys <33

Albatross never got the point of funerals. Others tried telling him that they were worth his time. "It's a celebration of life!" they would say. They'd frame it as a commendable event. That he should be happy that somebody is dead.

He couldn't imagine a place he wouldn't rather be than here, standing before her grave.

Marlin, his wife, had passed away a few days ago. Albatross was the one to find her. He will never forget the utter horror that was seeing her lying on the floor, bleeding out with a single cut on her neck. She was long gone by the time he got there. He tried everything he could, even desperately begging for his magic to somehow bring her back, but to no avail. She was lost.

It had been a blur from then and up until the funeral. A dazed state of vague emptiness. A fog of numbness. He hadn't cried since discovering her body, something he felt guilty for. Manta and Eel, their very own dragonets, had been bawling nonstop. Even Lagoon was weeping earlier. Surprising that she had emotions.

No, he shouldn't say that. Being petty gets him nowhere. She was so distraught over Marlin's death. Even if he found the ceremony obnoxiously long and overdramatic, especially when she got upset at him refusing to speak, he should be grateful he set this whole thing up.

Marlin deserved a nice send-off. She deserved a lot better than what she got in life, so she deserved just as much in death.

The grave was in the center of one of the Island Palace's gardens. It was where they got married and was always her favourite spot. Echoes of memories flowed through him. The feeling of warmth watching her tend to the bushes and flowers. The sweetness of seeing Manta take up an interest in her mother's craft. She loved this area.

Now she's memorialized with a grave. A marble statue erected where her body was buried, complete with aquamarines for her eyes.

The sky was overcast and grey. The wind wasn't cold, but humid enough to be slightly uncomfortable. It was as though he was standing in a world where the life was drained from it. Any joy or hope that could've been had decayed.

It was late into the evening. Everyone had already gone up and left. Manta and Eel were put to bed an hour ago. The only one awake in this palace was Albatross himself. He didn't feel too happy with the service. Many mourned the loss of Marlin, but more than anything, Albatross wanted to spend it alone.

"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't know why he said it, but it felt better to hear his voice. "I'm sorry for, well, everything." He glanced at the bushes around them. Some were trampled and stomped on, disturbed by the guests. "I wanted a private event. I wanted it to be just me, the dragonets, and you. I didn't want it to be this whole thing. But, you know, Lagoon insisted." He scoffed.

The statue did not respond. He wasn't expecting it to, but the apathetic silence was deafening.

"A lot of things between us shouldn't have been as public as they were. Lagoon." A faint smile cracked across his snout. "You always said I should've been more assertive. Not let her push me around. And you're right. I really, really should have."

His expression faded away. "You wouldn't have liked it being like this. I'm sorry about that. I should have been firm with her, but she just kept pushing about it and..." He winced. "She brought up her again. Used her as an argument against me, again. Then, she brought you up. She never said it, but I knew what she meant. She thinks I could've saved you. If I had been there, I could've protected you. I could've gotten to you before you died."

He sat down, folding his wings to his side. The words were spilling out of him. "And she's right. I'm a coward. A stupid, childish fool who's afraid of his own shadow. Because of it, I ruined Sapphire's life. Because of it, I let you die." He tapped his talons against the ground. "I don't think I could do anything to make it up to you for what I've done."

He glanced up at the statue. He was met with the frozen stare of those teal gemstone eyes.

"You did more than I deserved, quite frankly. You gave me two wonderful dragonets. I cannot thank you enough. If there's one thing I could do for you, it's giving them a life that is better than ours. They are the light of my life." He smiled, lost in thought over them. "I'll be a good father."

He heavily sighed, his grin washed away. "It's a shame they came from Lagoon pressuring me. She wants another animus. Obvious why. I'm sorry that you were roped into all of this." He walked closer to the statue.

"Everything about us was dictated by her, really. Even our own marriage she arranged. Maybe, had you been luckier, you wouldn't have ended up with me. You could have had a lovely life with a better partner. A partner who...actually loved you."

His jaw quivered. "I was never clear about that, but I think you knew. You were the most beautiful dragon I've ever seen. You brought me more joy and happiness into my life than I deserved. But, even as I said my vows on that very night when we were wed, I lied." He bit his tongue. "I never felt more disgusted by myself when I told you 'I love you'. I didn't. I never did."

He blinked, feeling tears well up. "There's...something wrong with me." He looked at his talons. "I don't know whether it's this magic or something I was hatched with, but there's something deeply wrong with me. I wanted to love you. I treated you with so much care and respect. I liked you, Marlin. Every moment we spent together was one I cherished...but I never felt that spark."

His voice began to break. "Every day I wished that somehow I could fix myself. That one morning I would wake up and magically the hole in my heart and begin to feel any sort of attraction or love to you. That we could be together forever. End up like a couple in a storybook, where we rush off into the sunset forever, full of only love with one another."

He rested his head on the statue. "And I'm sorry that I'll never be able to give you that. You deserved someone who could love you in a way that meant something. You deserved a better life than what you were given, and I'm so...so sorry..."

He gave way to incoherent weeping, quietly murmuring to the statue the same thing over and over again. He was sorry. He couldn't do anything to fix it. He could only feel pity for himself. For being incapable of making a stand. For being incompetent when it came to social situations. For being a terrible, horrible partner.

Marlin was dead, and Albatross was left with nothing more than the cold, unfeeling statue that stood before her. As though her life was little more than a name on a garden decoration. A footnote in a long, long history of SeaWing royals. She would be forgotten by the sands of time.

So long as he lived, he would ensure she would be remembered. That, somehow, her story will be recounted even thousands of years later. It was the one thing he could promise.

#wof #wings of fire #albatross wof #wof fanfic #SP-writing

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bridgertonbabe · 4 months

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Signing off.

I never really thought I'd ever write a post like this and to be perfectly honest I feel a bit cringe for even making a thing out of this but I felt it necessary to address those of you who follow me and my writings.

In the last month I have been suffering severely from anxiety, waking up to what feels like a ball of dread clutching at my heart and being unable to shift it for the better part of the day. It's all come to a head as of late because I've reached a crossroads in my life where I've realised just how unhappy and unfulfilled I am. Truth to be told I really don't have any aspect in my life that I am happy with and for years I've dismissed myself and my own desires for the sake of others to the point where I have no self worth, no self confidence, and I just feel like a shell of a person. Realising that I can't go on like this, that I can't live the life I aspire to without sorting my mental health out, I've taken the first steps in getting counselling and in going to the doctors to be put on anti-depressants.

While I'm already starting to feel better, I've decided it's in my best interests to take some other steps going ahead; which is I'm logging off this account.

Don't get me wrong, this account has brought me fulfillment in the last two and a half years and I've had so much fun interacting with so many of you but as of late I've become very disengaged with Bridgerton. It's one of several of my hyperfixations which I have become anxious with in the last few weeks, in part because they are what I used to immerse myself in as a means to distract myself from a dissatisfying existence, but now I've decided to make a change in my life for the better, everything that I once used to bury my head in the sand has now essentially given me the ick. Bridgerton is just now one of several things that I feel the need to distance myself from in order to fully focus and concentrate on bettering my mental health as well as getting what I want out of life.

As much as I've taken pride in writing because of Bridgerton, my dream has always to one day publish a book of my own and I need to refocus my energies on writing my own original stories to have the chance of maybe being able to make that dream a reality. I would have so dearly loved to have been able to complete a whole host of WIPs (would have also loved to have been able to just focus on one story at a time but c'est la vie) and I can only apologise to anyone who's been hoping for an update from any of them.

You will still be able to read all of my works on AO3 (plus I've restored a couple I had previously hidden from view), and I won't be deleting this tumblr so all of my drabbles and various posts will still be here for you to browse and read at your leisure.

Though I'm stepping away from this account, I don't necessarily know if this will be forever. I might well end up in a better place mentally at some point and return with a healthier state of mind where I can enjoy Bridgerton again, and I would never rule out contributing writings again - however as it stands, I don't want to promise anything and taking care of my mental health is my main priority for now and the foreseeable future.

I also just wanted to take the opportunity to thank every single person who has ever liked, reblogged, and interacted with me since I joined. I had never previously shared any of my creative writing online and thought it would be nice if even a single person somewhere vaguely liked anything I had to share - but over the last two and a half years I've been given such a boost from the amount of people who have reached out and commented on any one of my silly writings. I don't think you'll ever understand just how much it has meant to me and the love and appreciation will stay with me forever.

That about does it, so thank you all for everything. I wish you all a lifetime of health and happiness.

Signing off,

Shinnie

xxx

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dispatchvampire · 9 months

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Accidentally In Love (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x FemaleOC

Warnings: Potentially lethal levels of fluffiness right now, potential for smut later. A little blood, canon levels of violence potentially. Plus size female OC, body descriptions.

Rating: PG-13 (right now for language, but look for this to change)

WC: 2600-ish.

Summary:

Echo's living a normal life in NYC, a 911 dispatcher, the most excitement she gets is from the calls she takes. And then love comes crashing in one day when she's riding her bike through Central Park.

Steve and Bucky weren't looking for anything on their daily run around the park besides fresh air and exercise. The streak of purple eye candy on a bike that lapped them pretty regularly was a nice addition but not mandatory, at least until some impromptu roughhousing results in some civilian casualties in the form of the most beautiful woman either of them had seen in a long, long time.

A/N: AU, Post CACW, Bucky’s Chill and we have always lived in the Tower. Just call this a throwback to the found family, everyone lives in Stark Tower fics.

This is supposed to be a super-fluffy love story. Still undecided if I'm gonna keep this one going but posting now for giggles and grins. It's got some CSI:NY characters crossing over because why not.

I'm just messing about and playing in my WIPs folder. Not Beta'd: we die like men! (honestly, I tried but if you catch something I missed, let me know)

Chapter 2

Blinking, Echo arrived back on the current plain of consciousness in a very bright room that smelled vaguely of antiseptic and orange slices. Blinking, she groaned a little as she took in her varying pains that hadn’t been evident before, including the stiffness in the elbow where her IV was installed.

“There she is.”

She turned her head toward a voice she recognized very well. Lindsey Messer, Danny’s wife and her friend from the job and her building, sat at her bedside holding her hand. In her pants suit and fuschia blouse, wearing her work badge, it was clear the tiny blonde had come straight from the crime lab. “Hey Linds. I hope Danny didn’t make you worry. I’m fine. My head’s too hard for any lasting damage.”

The blonde snorted and slid a plastic cup with a straw in it over to her. “That’s what I told them.”

It was good to know her friend had her back. “What am I doing here?”

“They said you had a concussion and lost consciousness at the scene. Apparently you hit your head when you went into the stream by the bridge. Plus you got some stitches in your nose and chin and have a hairline fracture in your wrist.”

“Oh.” It was so much worse than she feared. Looking down at her wrist she saw the bandage and closed her eyes on a sigh. “Well, this sucks.”

“It does,” Lindsey agreed. “It seems you have some interesting friends, though.”

Echo sipped her cup of water as she mulled over the strange transition. “We have the same friends, Linds.” Working in law enforcement made for a large extended, and occasionally dysfunctional, family, and since they hung out together, the majority of the people in their lives were shared friends and acquaintances.

“Funny, because I don't remember you bringing those two superheroes you crashed into on the bike path today out for drinks with us.” She leaned back in the chair, looking nonchalant as she pulled a bottle of water from her purse to sip.

Superheroes? What? “What are you talking about?” Shifting to sit up further in bed, she found herself tired and reclining back on the pillows behind her. She had one thing she wanted to make clear, though. “And I didn't crash into anyone. I ditched out so I wouldn't crash into anyone.”

Lindsay smiled slyly. “You’re too nice, that’s why you crashed.”

Looking around to make sure there were no little ears to overhear she snarked at her friend, “Vaffanculo,” complete with the associated hand gesture.

Of course that's the moment when Danny decided to come into the room carrying a bottle of water and some white daisies he laid on the table next to her drink. “Ay, yo! You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asked with his ever present grin. He’d clearly cleaned up and changed into one of his signature tight t-shirts and jeans. He made hipster chic look good with his wire-rim glasses and skinny jeans.

Rolling her eyes hurt but she did it anyway. “Whatever, Danny. When do I get outta here?”

The thin man winced and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, see that's the problem. Both the girls have ear infections, and they’re with my mom right now, but there's nobody to look after them for us, so we can look after you. And well unfortunately, between us and Flack, Donnie is going outta town with Trish for the weekend. So the docs wanna keep you overnight.”

“But…” she whined pitifully. The idea of spending the night alone in the hospital sounded as appealing as shaving her legs with a dull razor and lemonade shaving cream.

Lindsey’s lips twitched. “You know we have toddlers, right? We’re immune to such things,” she laughed.

Lower lip in full pout, she replied, “And that's just unfair.” Echo reached onto the table and then rummaged around in the sheets over her before reaching into her bloodstained bra and the pockets of her bike shorts. “Where's my phone?” Surely she could find someone to look after her at her place so she didn’t have to stay in the hospital.

Danny cringed as he grabbed the other visitor’s seat in the room. “Yeah, about that... your phone’s out getting fixed right now. Unfortunately it and your sunglasses met the creek bed and experienced a similar fate as you.”

“Oh no.” She winced and reached up to touch the bridge of her nose involuntarily as her hopes for escape dwindled in front of her. “This is bad.”

He nodded, conceding her point. “Yeah, yeah it is, kiddo.”

“So, I have to stay.” It was a statement of resignation more than anything and she was beyond displeased, but knew two things: first, this wasn’t her friends’ fault, and second, she couldn’t do anything about this.

“Unfortunately.” Messer nodded again. Seeing her dejected expression, he rushed to assure her, “Just for tonight though. They’ll let you go in the morning. Hopefully your phone will be back here by then, good as new.”

“Wait…” Her mind was still a little fuzzy, but Echo was pretty clear that phone insurance wasn’t nearly that prompt. “Who's got my phone?”

Lindsay looked at Danny with a pointy glare. “You didn't tell her?”

“She just woke up! You were here!” Danny held out a hand hoping to show that he was unarmed and not one to take her fire. He pulled the chair over to the bed to be closer to Echo. “Do you remember the two guys you crashed into?”

“I didn't crash,” she corrected, rolling her eyes coming much easier this time.

“Your face and bike would disagree,” he supplied diplomatically, with only the barest hint of a grin.

“Whatever.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, assessing. “You really don’t remember?”

Shaking her head hurt, but she tried anyway. “Help me out here, Messer. I got nothin’.” She had vague recollections of the two hot guys from the path, but considering she saw them daily, those were not memories she trusted. “Were those the ones you and Flack had your guns on?”

Lindsay's eyes grew very large and she pinned Danny down with a very pointed glare. “You had your gun on Captain America and Sergeant Barnes?”

“It was a very fluid situation,” he gritted out through his clenched jaw. “It took a minute to get it all untangled.”

“I'm sorry, what?” The headache that had been dancing around the edge of her vision grew to full force causing her to rub her face. “What? That doesn't even make sense.” How in the fried fuck did the fricking Avengers figure into this? “How—? What—? I don’t understand—”

Danny cringed at her questions and pushed to his feet. “Well I think we've done enough damage here. Linds will get the girls and we'll see you tomorrow morning.”

Echo’s eyes popped open as she reached for him when he stepped away to put the chair back. “Wait! No! You don't get to just drop a bomb and leave like that.”

Likely attracted by her beeping monitor, the nurse came in to see her blood pressure spiking. “You have to go now. The patient needs her rest.”

Lindsey and Danny leaned over for quick hugs before heading toward the door. “This will make sense in the morning, E, okay? You’ll be fine,” he assured her.

She whined again, dropping her head into the pillows. “Okay. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you will,” he replied with his trademark toothy grin.

Right before he and Lindsey walked out the door, she asked, “Hey, who has my bike?”

“Hopefully that’ll be here with your phone.”

The way Danny’s smile turned secretive before the nurse closed the door was concerning, but her head hurt too badly to really give it too much thought. Honestly, she was tired again and since it seemed she had nowhere else to be, she figured it was a good moment to take a nap.

“We should have brought the bike up.”

“And put it where, genius? In the hallway where it’d just be in the way? In here? It’s a hospital, not a subway platform.”

“I just think—”

“And that’s your problem right there, Stevie.”

“I just don’t want her to think we took it or anything.”

“Steve. Really. Come down off the cross; we need the wood.”

Echo woke to the sound of grumbled whispers and some sort of mechanical noise. Her dark eyes opened to the overly bright room, only to slam shut again at the vision before her. It was clearly a concussion-generated hallucination, because there, seated at her bedside were the two sexy mofos from the bike trail. A flimsy wisp of a memory danced across her mind of the blond one fetching her from the creek by picking her up, but… that wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be; she was too heavy for that. She hadn’t been picked up since childhood, and certainly was not one to invite the casual touch of strangers.

Cracking her eyes open the barest hint, she watched the two men, giants, both of them, arguing back and forth softly beside her. She’d never given thought to their size before beyond their muscles, considering her bike gave her a height advantage, but damn if they weren’t enormous, still dressed in their too-tight t-shirts and jeans that encased their thighs closer than clingwrap.

Her soft whimper at the sight brought their argument to a halt as both of them reached for her hand.

“Hey, beautiful,” the longhaired one greeted her with a soft smile as he delicately touched her fingers. His own fingers were cold, and when she looked to see why, it appeared they were made of some kind of metal. In her mind, she’d always assumed it had been some kind of tattoo when she’d seen him in passing, so the metal was a bit of a shock.

“Howya feelin’, sweetheart?” the blond one asked as he laid his hand over her same wrist.

She closed her eyes for a moment, just absorbing the absurdity of this moment. “Best. Hallucination. Ever.”

Her eyes snapped open at a bark of laughter followed by the mostly silent wheezing giggles that overtook Hotness 2. He threw his head back, shaking out his unbound hair in full chortle, a bubbly infectious sound that made her feel like she’d been infused with sunshine. The way his nose crinkled made her want to hug the hell outta him.

“Babydoll,” he choked out as he brushed away tears from his cheeks before patting her knee with a warm smile. “We’re as real as it gets. I promise.”

Blondie’s grin at his friend was a mix of affection and unruffled resignation. “Ignore Chuckles over there. How are you feelin’?”

“I’d feel better if I knew who you were,” she said softly. It was a strange feeling, a sensation of familiarity and absolutely no idea why she might know them. Not that she didn’t appreciate the attention, but it was disconcerting that they seemed to know her and she had no active memory of them beyond their occasional encounters on the trails and paths in Central Park.

“I’m James and this is Ste—Wait, you really don’t remember us?” The brunet went from amused to stricken in a breath when she shook her head, his free hand—it was a metal hand—scrubbing down his face and pulling his features taut before clapping his hands. “Right then. I’m James—my friends call me Bucky, and this is Steve. I ran into you on the trail yesterday.”

Eyes rolled to the ceiling, the giant blond then directed an annoyed glare at his compatriot before folding her hand in both of his massive paws. “What Buck means is he ran into you on the bike path. By the Glen Span bridge.”

“Oh! Jeez!” Thinking back, all she could see in her mind was the blue shirt and then everything goes kind of hazy until… “Guns? My friends had their guns on you?”

They both held their hands up, shaking their heads. “A misunderstanding. It all got sorted out pretty quickly, despite Smartass over here trying to get us killed,” James grumbled in Steve’s direction, even as a smirk curled around the corners of his mouth.

The blond winced at his friend’s description of the events but didn’t correct him. “Anyway, we wanted to come and apologize for all the upheaval we caused for you.”

“And your stitches and things,” the brunet added as he tucked his long bangs behind his ears. Looking down in his lap, he jerked as he noticed the bag by his feet. It was purple and glittery and had tissue paper sticking out of the top and he pushed it into her hands like it may be virulently contagious. “Here. From us.”

Immediately suspicious, Echo held the bag at arm’s length. “Okay? What is it?”

Steve rolled his eyes with a little huff of impatience. “Telling you ruins the surprise. We went to the trouble of wrapping ‘em—”

“Well, Wanda did,” Buck leaned over to stage-whisper conspiratorially.

“We went to the trouble of having ‘em wrapped,” the blond corrected with an impatient glare at his friend, “so open it.”

A little embarrassed at having their eager eyes track her every move, she dug past the mountain of glittery paper to pull out a shrink-wrapped, brand new Stark Phone in the signature red and gold box which she set on the bed next to her. Everything about this situation was so goddamn weird, it was hard to make all the pieces fit together in her head with any kind of coherence.

“Tony promised me he got all your stuff transferred over,” Steve offered eagerly as he poked the box a little closer to her.

“Pictures and things,” Buck clarified over his friend’s shoulder. They both seemed greatly invested in her taking the gift.

She held the box up in one hand while pawing through the bag with the other. “Okay?” Her fingers brushed against another box, this one textured and obviously expensive cardboard and almost as hefty as her phone box.

Echo’s eyes widened as she pulled out the black box with the distinctive gold writing on it. “Is this…?” she trailed off as she observed the two men closely. Steve nodded encouragingly, so she opened it, almost afraid of what could be inside. Inside was a hard leather case, with gold lettering that matched the exterior box. “You got me Versace sunglasses?” She couldn’t decide if she was happy or mildly horrified.

The blond nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yours were in pieces from where I stepped on them getting out of the water.” His cheeks flushed as he looked more than a little ashamed. “Tony assured me that you’d be okay with the replacement.”

“Stevie’s underselling it. Stark said you’d appreciate the upgrade.”

Upgrade? Shit… she was a city employee and made nowhere near the kind of money that this pair of sunglasses cost. They were likely more expensive than all the clothes in her closet. “I�� thank you?”

“Here.” James nodded at the bag next to her. “There’s more in there.”

At the expectant looks on their faces, she set the black box aside and turned her attention to the bright yellow envelope just inside the bag. “‘Sorry we broke your stuff, please accept these replacements with our humblest apologies,’” she read, wary of their hopeful expressions when she finished. “'Replacements?' Plural? There’s more?”

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gioiaalbanoart · 1 month

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TIME for another MIXED fried

(writing share / different flavors 😁)

9 lines, kiss something, writing share, favorite line.....

Thank you to @wyked-ao3 here here and here

@tragedycoded here , here and here

@aintgonnatakethis (here, even if it's not kiss) and @jev-urisk here and @the-golden-comet in some open tag 💫

Just so you know this is edited in the sense that I don't inflict you with the pain of my first version writing BUT it will probably change at some point....(but if I share it now I can DAMN move to next chapter so, basically I'm using you 😈)

Wip The scarred angel under the cut with tags

CW just in case Blood, injuries

*****

Truth is, sometimes the best way to go it's just shut up and be there.

Like he'd been reading my mind Herrera breaths out heavily : "So, I didn't say anything, really. I kept my mouth shut and basically just sit there with her."

He gestures, palms facing upwards, as to underline the memories : "Until eventually social service shown up."

While I picture the scene in my head I'm aware that I don't feel just sorry for someone that has been hurt in that way but I'm drawn to it beyond reasons that I can't narrow down at the moment.

Already my rational brain doesn't cut me any slack because, let's face it, there can't be nothing here but just trivial curiosity.

Brain says.

Herrera interrupts my inner speculation : "Did you see her eyes ?" he asks bluntly.

As if I could have missed that.

I slightly nod to not make it too obvious.

"That's the only thing she gave them back : silence and that killing-fuck-you stare of her".

Right...

"She didn't go through social services, didn't she?" I ask cautiously.

Herrera tisks : "By no means!"

He stands up abruptly and fishes for something in the mess of his desk until he recovers a pack of cigarettes.

He looks at me, a silent "Do you mind?" question.

I shake my head no same as I did few days before.

He walks towards the open window and lit the cigarette peering vaguely at the outside world before facing me again : "Social services talked psychiatric facilities as soon as she could be dismissed, since she wasn't speaking."

He marks a dramatic pause while he sharply inhales the smoke and blows it out waving the cigarette, ashes accidentally falling to the front of his white shirt : "Until they left."

"She talked to you then?" I arch my brow taken aback by the possible hypothesis.

"Barely!"

He frowns and anticipates me : "Oh, don't get me wrong, at present day I still don't know shit about what really happened to her, forget who attacked her. She stubbornly kept not saying a word about it and...." he waves his hand again and more ashes get loose : "...Please, believe me, it's not for lack of me asking!"

Another smoking inhale : "I tried to talk her out of it, insisting that she had to report it, I even got to the point of getting angry at her."

Herrera sounds rather frustrated at the recollection : "Goes without saying it was like pissing in the wind."

Herrera words hang between us in the silence that idles and I get slightly impatient as I sense he's holding back again.

As he got offended before I assume it's not because he's ashamed of something and I wonder if somehow he's protecting her.

"So, no social services?" I decide to prompt him.

It snaps him out from his thoughts.

"She was sixteen back then..." is the apparently out of context answer.

"She didn't say it but let it slide first time she came back a couple of years later. I did the math."

The implied evidence strikes me : "She ran away?"

He nods : "Indeed".

I slightly gawk : "How....?".

It hasn't been so long since I was sixteen too even if it does feel now like someone else life, not my own.

I perfectly recall I wasn't that bold but not injured as much neither, nor so much alone.

It stirs in the pit of my chest a complex mix of feelings among which I recognize admiration, sorrow, curiosity and that something else that I can't figure out yet.

"How did she manage to get away?" I ask again, dumbfounded.

Unlike a few days ago there is now an ashtray on the windowsill and the chief snuffs the cigarette into it, a little too harshly : "I'll be damn if I had a clue at the time. Or now, for the matter."

He steps away from the window and plops heavily on his chair, fingers drumming on the edges desk, his gaze intense now.

I want him to keep talking and me to shake off his staring : "So.... she just comes and go?"

A glimpse of curiosity crosses Herrera's gaze but apparently he decides to go my way : "Every now and then. Basically when she needs something."

"She asked for your help today?" I inquire.

Herrera tisks : "She came to dig for information, apparently I wasn't useful"

"And now she's gone." I hear myself say and again I can't put the finger on why I don't like the fact.

"And now she's gone." Herrera confirms.

I acknowledge a sting of frustration.

For some reason Herrera shifts through sympathetic mode.

"Look" he bents slightly across his desk, twining his fingers and he speaks with almost a fatherly tone : "At the time I felt sorrow for the girl, sickened about what she went through even if she didn't gave up the details. After the social workers left she spent few days in recovery and I paid her a visit every single day, even if she didn't seem to care."

He frowns : "I was there when the doctors toke the bandages off."

"By then I kind of knew so I asked her, at first, if I could stay. Incredible enough, she said yes"

Herrera's face twitches : "It was a shocking sight".

"I bet it was" I breath out.

"Even more shocking was to see her letting a single tear roll, just one. Then she stared at the mirror the nurse gave her eyes dry and cold. I couldn't believe it."

He leans against the backrest : "I didn't know what to say to the girl, so....I said nothing."

Even now Herrera's expression matches what probably felt back then, shock and defeated.

"Anyway" he lets out another sigh : "The following morning she was gone".

*****

Automatically tagged for the next writing share my TSA tag list (ask if you want IN/OUT) 💗 : @wyked-ao3 @saturnine-saturneight @tragedycoded

+ @the-golden-comet @authorcoledipalo @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @aintgonnatakethis @agirlandherquill @avaseofpeonies

+ open tag and lot of coffee ☕☕☕☕

#shouldn't be easy???#wip The scarred angel #OCs Amy Salinas POV #talking about Ashley Knox #let's move on damn it!#she doesn't talk......#writers on ao3 #writers on tumblr

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vsyrworld · 10 months

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WIPs GAMES: What are on my words?

shout out to @vicsbasement who tagged and recognize my works! Yes, I used to be a writer back in 2019-2020 and wrote mostly about brocedes and anime, but since lewis lost the championship, I lost the entire mood to write about rpf driver and then boom! charlos happened, i was like -- okay let's do this again. English is not my first language and I'm still learning about expressing emotion, writing about "show but don't tell", and obviously with grammar.

Here's some work in progress. (my inspiration came from song lyrics. That's why I like to create a driver's playlist. I also reflect on the real-life events that happen to me or the people surroundings me) . Feel free to ask me more about the details;

Charlos 1655

a series, and they said the relationship is easy:

1st -> Enchanted by the Prancing Horse / EBPH for short. (E) (kind of like a 5+1 thingy about ... (secret hehe) I am currently working on the fifth part, and it's already 13k words :D

2nd -> Alphabet of Hearts (M) (TW!!!!! like real TW!) (one of my proudest stories I've written so far? chaptered about 8. I am currently working on chapter 5 (what's all about the five XD)

these series are written mostly in Carlos's POV. big big big thanks to @f1amboyant because they are encouraging me to try writing in new POV i never tried before. I love this series I've been working on for a year, so I hope I can convey the message to the reader and have much recognition <3

(since i'm more comfortable writing in Charles POV, because I feel like Charles and I share many similarities in terms of family and struggle, that's why my Charles characterization sometimes resembles mine. It also makes Ocean and Engines fic a big hit in my "start again writing career", because it was actually from a real event.)

one-shot: take a chance with me. (Planning on to be a continuation from ocean and engines. this ' series ' uses NIKI albums as it is representing my real-life experience, but I couldn't state it explicitly :D)

Brocedes

Spring Day -> The last stories from 4 Season Heal Of The Wounds : Between Love and Amends (4SHOWL) Series!! Omg, I can't believe I'm nearing the end of this whole series... part 1 has already been uploaded (the timeline was vaguely set before charlos series)

there are 2 unpublish explicit wips of brocedes and I CAN'T PUBLISH IT BECAUSE I'M SO BAD AT WRITING SMUT? It's soo flithy, the filthiest I ever write and READ. So yeah bye those fics going to stay inside the bins forever.

++ I am still determining how long this fic going to be finished, but I'm planning to release EBPH at Christmas, because.. well maybe I'm just eager to share with you all.

that's all! ciaooo ~~

#my wips #current wip #work in progress #formula 1 #rpf #charles leclerc #carlos sainz jr #charlos #1655 #brocedes #4406

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scribe-of-stories · 2 months

Text

Get to Know Your Moots Writeblr Interview

Was poked by the wonderful co-writers of Sunset @sunset-a-story and @touloserlautrec. Go read their posts here and here!

On the Tumblr Writing Community

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr? A short eternity (first post is mid 2022)

What led you to create it? Was very bored at work and wanted to share some recent stories. Also I had never tried social media before, it this looked like the most interesting place to try it.

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community? Getting to see other people's imagination unfiltered. I've read plenty of great works before, but it was definitely an entertaining first to see the author later publicly say "this is my favorite little guy, can't wait till the next time he suffers."

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you? I constantly feel like I'm bothering people and or feel self conscious when talking about me/my stuff, so bare with me hah.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash? Just some really unhinged stuff about y'alls stories. I want to open my phone and see someone discussing the seven major heresies dictated by some cabal of priests only to later realize "oh, this is someone's fever dream, not a history lesson".

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today? Interact more, take up the offer of "open tags" on other people's posts. Also throw your ideas onto the table for other's to look at, we all seem to love just watching someone go off about something they love.

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately? Been in a bit of a writing drought. Lexical is always getting worked on, more so the TTRPG stuff than any story right now though. I've had a few projects pop into my mind and leave over the past while. Have a cluster of characters I can't get out of my head, but no narrative or setting to properly put them into. A god of violence and the man that cut her out of himself, a cultish vampire philosopher and his favorite little guy (little guy has a knife). Surely something will come of this, or they'll continue to just exist in one-off stories in my own head. Amber Hill, specifically The Lawman, is still somewhere in here but it's been struggling to come out for a while. Been trying to find Lars' voice as a POV character.

How long have you been working on them? I've been working on something based in Lexical since mid 2022 (huh, exactly around I first posted here); the other guys are new and only a few months old at most.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started? Lexical is a can of worms. The short answer is that my irl DnD group wanted to play something more free form and creative leaning than what our 5e campaign was allowing, so I said fuck it and started homebrewing a system based in a world I have vague ideas about. The long answer is that Lexical is a sequel to a Pathfinder campaign titled "Demis", which was about fantasy super heroes. It was heavily inspired by My Hero, Worm, and inescapably Homestuck. So when it came time to make a whole new system for these same players I took some concepts that worked in Demis, applied some occult-adjacent philosophy I was/am into, and ended up with my years long passion project. Atem and Sadaf were born out of my growing need to explore violence as a concept, philosophy, and inescapable existential crisis. The Vampire and his thrall Ish spawned out of a desire to have a toxic romance to think about. And AmberHill was inspired by a desire to create something cozy and occulty. Ended up being SCP adjacent but maintained the idea of a small community that cares about itself.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them? Lexical- not enough, I'm lucky I have at least some productive thoughts throughout the day. Atem- too much, his tired ass sat down in my head and I've been too polite to ask him to leave.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say? "Urban Fantasy with science fiction elements"

What do you want to say (if it’s different from what you do say)? "My dissertation on the semi-real building blocks of both physical and social reality, also wizards punching people."

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created. We've got the original Lexical boy Samuel Smith, Atem and Sadaf who you've already heard of, Lars DuPont from Amberhill.

Who’s the most unhinged? Sadaf.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write? For whatever reason Samuel's self-loathing PI perspective just comes very natural and is maybe someone I should write more about.

Do you ever cringe at them? Nah

How much control do you feel you have over your characters? Depends, my mind does not wonder so much that I don't feel like I am ever not in control. But who I am able to focus on tends to be a matter of debate.

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? Yes absolutely. Characters, worlds, magic systems; I'll rant about any of them given the chance.

On Writeblr Engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account? A combination of preferred genre (urban fantasy), shared interest (books/games/table top). Also if they have Scribe as part of their name it's just an auto follow.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle? There's a few. The telepaths from Sunset and their many ways of being terrifying are the first that come to mind. Since I already mentioned the scribes I'll go ahead and tag @scribe-cas , @covenscribe and leave the rest of the tag open. Here is an empty template

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #lexical earth #tag game

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xxnashiraxx · 2 months

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WIP/Snippet Sunday

Thank you for tagging me, @khywren!!

I hope you all are ready- I will post the first two chapters of my long-awaited (mostly by myself), self-indulgent isekai BG3 multi-chapter fanfic!!! Here's a snippet of chapter 2 as I go over it with a fine-toothed comb before it gets published on AO3!

Chapter 2: Know Me, Broken By My Master Pain is the first acquaintance Astarion meets upon waking. He opens his eyes to the broken visor of the pod he’d been trapped in, leaving him exposed to the outside air. The following emotion he feels is fear- the sun's rays dapple the ground just feet away, too close for comfort. He withdraws within himself, pressing against the back of his small prison as he works to remember what happened. He’d been… on the way to Cazador’s palace, about to come back empty-handed. He’d known the weight of what that meant for him as he dragged his feet over the filthy cobblestone street, wishing to linger long enough for sunrise to burn him away. Compelled forward against his desire for oblivion, he’d anticipated punishment, numb to the repercussions as his ruby eyes blazed in the night. Hunger had torn at him for days, perhaps even weeks. The rats had started to get scarce, and he’d risked his excursion on the scent of a pathetic-looking bird he’d found with a broken wing, its blood staining the dirt beneath it. It had led to another, and he’d ravenously consumed what little they had until his head was clear enough to string together a coherent thought. He’d assumed he’d have enough time, that he’d be able to scout a victim to drag to their doom, but he had been mistaken. The hunger had addled his mind and he’d taken a wrong turn, ending up deeper into the lower city than he’d liked. As he’d turned a corner, he heard the screams and looked up in time to see a large black mass careening towards him, unable to react before it collided. Instead, he’d gone under and woken up in some other place entirely. One that vaguely tickled the corners of his mind, however still escaped his knowledge. Once he’d seen the mind flayer, he’d settled on death, almost content. But it had not been the end. He’d seen something strange, even, upon waking...

I'm very excited to share! All I know is that it'll be posted within the next four hours, so please look out for it!

I know it's only been a few days since I tagged you all, but if you feel like sharing more tidbits, please do! @preciouslittlebhaalbae @elinorbard @verbenaa @ladyduellist @inkymoonbunny @bhaalsdeepbat @justabiteofspite

#wip sunday #fic wip #bg3 #bg3 isekai #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfic #fanfiction #the title is from would by alice in chains!

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cellsshapedlikestars · 1 year

Note

Seeing all your cool home updates && half-watching some HGTV w/my mom while drawing had a simple prompt idea if you might be interested! Basically HGTV reno show Jonsa - Sansa is a designer and finally gets a chance for her own show but loses Rob (her #1 contractor) to an injury before filming starts && Jon jumps in (either to help Rob /or/ the studio execs (maybe Targs?) throw him in) and the two have to work together somehow. Idk idk, just wanted to share! <3

ANON.

No, you have no idea, I already HAVE a house reno wip. It's not super long, but... yeah. I've got that.

Here, I'll post what I have written of it, since we CAN'T GET ONTO AO3.

this isn't exactly your prompt, though I do honestly love yours a lot and sort of want to change mine. If I changed mine, the show Sansa works on would definitely be like Rehab Addict, where she restores old homes to their prior state instead of making them "modern"

But mine is sort of similar? This snippet is just the set up and doesn't include the part where Sansa decides to start a youtube channel for her renovations, (a la WabiSabE, which I used to watch and was probably the inspiration for this fic when I first started writing it like a year ago lol), and everyone starts shipping her with her contractor Jon, who she keeps forcing to be in the videos because she can't really make them without him being in it...

Sansa winces as her car hits another bump and jolts her in her seat.

“You owe me,” she huffs out, hands tight around the wheel.

“I know, I know,” Robb's voice comes through her sound system and fills the car. He's distracted, she can tell, and she bites back a snippy comment. Robb's just so busy, he couldn't possibly get away.

That's not fair, the small part of her brain that's still being rational thinks. Of course Robb couldn't drop everything and come out to the middle of nowhere to deal with their Great Uncle Brynden's estate. Robb's got a new baby and his job.

Robb's got a baby, Arya's got her tournaments, Bran has school, and Rickon's still underage. All of her siblings have lives they can't get away from. All except her.

No significant other, no kids. A tenuous career that she can technically do from anywhere.

“Oh no,” she breathes, when the house finally comes into sight through the trees.

“What's wrong?” Robb asks, his full attention back on her.

“Robb,” she whines, the car coming to a pathetic, rolling stop on the overgrown gravel drive. “It's a mess.”

“A mess?”

She doesn't answer, too busy staring at the mansion in front of her. Or, what used to be a mansion, she thinks.

It's still vaguely house-shaped, but... The roof is missing shingles in multiple places, the windows all seem busted out. The steps up to the covered front porch are fine, but the porch itself has a massive sinkhole, and half the wood looks rotted and ready to crumble.

Gods, if this is what the outside looks like...

“What kind of a mess?” Robb asks. She's just about to start listing the many problems when she hears another car approaching.

“I've gotta go,” she tells Robb. “I think the lawyer's here.” She hangs up before Robb can answer, and watches the other car slowly emerge through the trees up the bumpy road, past the broken gates, and onto the circular gravel drive. It stops behind her and a man gets out. She gets out, too, phone clutched in her hand, just in case.

“Miss Stark?” the man asks, and his face splits into a kind smile when she nods. “Perfect, perfect. I'm Samwell Tarly. It's nice to finally meet you.”

Sansa moves forward to shake the lawyer's hand. He isn't what she was expecting. He's young, for one – maybe only a few years older than her. And he seems just as nice in person as he'd been over the phone. She didn't think lawyers came in nice.

“We should have met at your office,” she says, eyeing up the weeds sprouting from between the gravel and brushing against her ankles. “I didn't realize the road here would be so...”

Mr. Tarly laughs. “This place has been abandoned for quite some time,” he agrees. “I never met Brynden myself, but I’d heard about him. Apparently he decided to up and travel the world and left this…”

Sansa looks back at the crumbling mansion and feels her face scrunch up. She tries to smooth it out. “So, how fast do you think I can sell this?” she asks.

That’s when Mr. Tarly’s smile falters. “Well,” he starts, hesitant, “you see, it’s in such a poor state, I can’t imagine anyone would be willing to buy it.”

“But the land must be worth something? They can just knock it down and-”

“Ah,” Mr. Tarly winces, and Sansa’s sentence breaks off, unfinished. “I suppose you didn’t read all the fine print?” At the slow shake of her head, he grimaces. “Riverrun Manor is a historic property. You, legally, are not allowed to tear the structure down. Anything you do needs to go through lots of committee approvals…”

“So what you’re saying,” Sansa says, closing her eyes as reality crashes down around her, “is that literally no one is going to want to buy this.”

“Maybe if you find someone who’s both very rich, and very interested in Riverlands history?”

She opens her eyes and there must be a glare on her face, because Mr. Tarly winces again.

Then she turns back to the manor, and really looks at it this time. Beneath the grime and the moss and the crumbling wood, she can see what it used to be.

“What if I fixed it up a bit?” she asks, turning back to the lawyer. “What if I just did the major repairs, do you think someone would buy it then?”

She doesn’t want to do that, but it beats letting the property sit around even longer and paying the taxes on it. Or, worse, not paying the taxes and having that on her and her sibling’s financial records.

“I’m not a real estate agent,” Mr. Tarly responds, looking at the building thoughtfully. “But this is a good location, lots of historic stuff around. I wouldn’t doubt you could sell it if the building weren’t… well, that.” He waves his hand towards the manor.

“Alright,” she nods. “Maybe we should head to your office to do the paperwork, though? Then I’ll… I guess I’ll look for a contractor?”

Sam nods, and a bright smile lights his face again. “Oh, I know someone you can call!”

#cellsshapedlikeasks #jonsa #jonsa fic #ao3 come back

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calligraphic-tac · 29 days

Note

📖"what has surprised you about your WIPs?"

💻"what perspectives do you write in?"

😭"what are the biggest challenges writing your WIPs?"

Oh, gosh. Thank you for sending an ask!

I should've put a caveat on my reblog. So, these answers are coming from someone who has written sparingly over the last 13 years. Writer's block, depression, I have no idea why. I'm trying to do better, but some of my responses may be a bit more vague than one would like... 😅

That said, here we go:

📖"what has surprised you about your WIPs?"

When it comes to my WIPs, I don't have much in the way of narrative prose. But due to the nature of how I "write" these days, I have tons of world-building. It's all so simple in my head, until I have to explain it to someone. And then I realize just how much of a foundation I have for when I start doing the "real" writing.

💻"what perspectives do you write in?"

I prefer loose third person because I don't have to stick strictly to what the character knows/sees. I, as the author, can also reveal things to the reader that the character(s) may not know. I feel a bit freer with third person, I think.

Sometimes I sort of default to first person, though, if I relate closely enough to a character or want to explore their thought process. Usually, this first person narration stays in my head, though.

I also narrate first person for any dreams that I write down; unless I'm specifically not embodying someone in the dream.

😭"what are the biggest challenges writing your WIPs?"

Aside from the narrative prose (which used to be so much easier as a kid, when I was writing fanfiction), I really struggle with dialogue. There are only two stories I've written that have dialogue I am proud of.

The first is actually a Destiny fanfic about my Exo Titan and my younger brother's Human Warlock. (Titled "The Blustery Brew" after a piece of in-game lore on a piece of armor.) I based the characters' dialogue off of how my brother and I used to banter with each other. The second is a short story called "Threshold" which I wrote for a creative writing class in college where I tried to emulate one of my favorite authors. For any who might be curious, I've posted "Threshold" here on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/calligraphic-tac/721284860704079872/threshold?source=share

I posted one chapter of the Blustery Brew on Tumblr, but have since started uploading to AO3; part 1 is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56135308/chapters/142591855

#ask and I shall answer #creative #creative writing #ask game #can it tac

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celestialmint · 1 year

Text

Twitter alternatives (WIP)

Collecting some pros and cons (with sources if I can find them) for various platforms. I'm neurodivergent, this is how I cope with my stress, figured I'd share if it helps anyone! I'm looking for a place that vibes with my values (LGBTQ+, BIPOC, disabled, anti-hate, NSFW friendly, and preferably has boundaries against generative AI stealing art/writing etc.).

I welcome any comments/sources that people have as so many of us are trying to figure this out!! Updating as I find more options/learn more

Tumblr:

My experience: I used Tumblr back before the NSFW ban and am just coming back this year, I find it easy to use and filter content I do and don't want to see. But I struggle to feel a sense of community here (I haven't talked to anyone directly through this platform in the years I have used it, though I do appreciate the silly tags on my art!! keep them coming!)

Pros: As far as I'm aware (I used the site back in the popular days, so I'm just coming back to it): does not use posts for gen AI, does not ban queer/bipoc/disabled content. Many fandoms have a large base here.

Cons: cannot post NSFW, anything vaguely near NSFW can be flagged even if it is not sexual

Twitter:

My experience: I have been on Twitter for about a year, I've found a bunch of mutuals and enjoy interacting with people there. But I can't support the direction M*sk is taking things and don't want to post my art on that platform anymore.

Pros: Large user base/far reach including international, can post NSFW but it can sometimes be limited in the algorithm

Cons: M*sk, shadowbans/bans of LGBTQ+ and BIPOC content, arbitrary bans/flags for NSFW, will use posts for AI, bots, hate speech, and harassment of marginalized groups are getting worse

Discord:

My experience: I've used discord for at least 7 years and use it daily as my primary form of communication with friends (and my husband one room away).

Pros: Large user base, most gamers have it, easy way to communicate on mobile and desktop, fun bot integration

Cons: Hard to find your people, most servers are closed systems that you don't know exist, and being in dozens of servers can be difficult to keep track of/keep up with. Each server is run by a person and could disappear without any notice if they rage quit and delete it, the rules are also up to that person. It makes it hard for artists to get a broader reach unless they have their own userbase from another platform feeding into it. Mentions of using user content (VC?) for AI training. They combined the dev for iOS and Android and the mobile app has been AWFUL since then (constantly says connecting every time I go to the app, often have to close and reopen it to send a message).

Bluesky Social:

My experience: I'm on the waitlist (supposedly? Didn't get an email confirmation and just waiting for the past week).

Pros: Built by the previous CEO of Twitter so in theory knows how to build a platform, lots of people seem to be heading that way if they can get an invite code. There were previous worries about it using content for AI, however as far as I can tell it uses content for tagging/moderation the same way that Tumblr does, and NOT for generative AI, " Bluesky does not own rights to your User Content" (From their TOS). Supposedly allows NSFW but can't find a source on this.

Cons: Waitlist of indeterminate length/hard to get an invite code. As shared in my comments, there have been issues of harassment and racism that are not being moderated properly to protect POC users. There have been issues of racist slurs being used in usernames, which in theory got patched out with code, but took a while for them to respond, which does not bose well.

Misskey.io:

My experience: Seeing a few mutuals go over to Misskey.io, I have only clicked on a couple of their posts to see what the platform looks like.

Notes: Uncertain about much about the platform. A lot of the posts are in Japanese (and I'm rusty reading kanji!)

Cons: There are mentions of being Anti-LGBTQ+ or at least not wanting people to post LGBTQ+ content there (1, 2, 3).

Mastodon:

My experience: I don't have an account and have only clicked there once for this post, see below

Notes: I have no personal experience with this platform but people online keep mentioning how hard it is to set up and use (even those who work in programming). I just went to the site's explore page from a google search. The first post it showed me was anti-red state/political parties legislating/tracking marginalized groups (ok), but with a picture of Nazi's front and center uncensored or tagged/flagged as far as I can tell (that was a shocking welcome to the site, might have just been my bad luck, not sure what kind of content is usually posted there). My husband who is into following political content says that people looking for that content are more likely to go to Mastodon from the accounts he follows, rather than art/fandom (from his experience).

Threads:

My experience: I do not have Facebook and will not join this platform.

Pros: Lots of people already have Instagram accounts, so it should be easy to join Threads

Cons: They will collect every scrap of data they can on you and sell it. From your purchases, to health, to location, you are the product.

Pillowfort:

My experience: Only seen mutuals talking about it, do not have an account myself

Pros: According to wikipedia: "The website was launched in 2017 and is currently in open beta. As of October 2020, the site had more than 100,000 users. The website is popular among fandoms, the LGBT community, and adult content creators." Allows NSFW content. Looks a lot like Tumblr so should be familiar to use. They have a demo login that allows you to check out what the site looks like before making an account. They say they are "planning" (search for Stance on AI in the FAQs) to prevent bot scraping, however they believe "AI and AI Generated Images are a topic that is much more nuanced than we previously believed" and do not take a firm stance on the topic yet.

Cons: They do not have a mobile app, though it is mentioned in the FAQs as planned. They limit image uploads to 2MB, you have to pay $2.49/month to upload up to 4MB. Anything submitted over 2MB up to 10MB will be resized down to 2MB.

Notes: On the FAQ they mention "In order for Pillowfort to remain online we need money to cover our various expenses such as hosting & data fees, staff compensation, etc. We do not receive any funding from corporate investors or venture capital because we are committed to keeping our user experience a priority." For better or worse, it is not run by a large company, they mention working on getting volunteers for moderation, the site feels like a work in progress.

Spill:

Notes: Having trouble finding details on this one, don't know anyone personally on it to ask.

Pros: Black owned

Cons: Currently a waitlist, not sure how long the wait is

#twitter alternative #twitter meltdown #twitter refugees

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fateinthestars · 13 days

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Yes, I know it isn't Wednesday but I've apparently not posted for nearly a week and wanted to point out that I am still here, so here have an SCM Fanfic WIP update post

1 (NEW). Untitled (Fae!King Tauxolouve/Reader)

Current word count: 935. This is for a request and is part of why I'm doing this update now - so that you know I've started it. 😅 This may or may not take a while though, AUs are a) not my usual forte and b) I'm gonna need to do some world building stuff most likely.

2 (NEW). Pushed too far (Probably Huedhaut/MC)

Title, pairing, and pretty much anything else subject to change in this one. This isn't actually written at all yet, but an idea that vaguely came to me whilst working earlier. If I can work out how to do this (or for another pairing but I think this is the one that is going to pan out the best for what I have in mind) it'll basically lead to that god switching departments. 😅

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

And just to remind everyone (and myself I guess lol) what else is still on the list from last update, none of which have been touched since then:

3. What the Future May Bring (Huedhaut/MC)

Current word count: 1,093. Yeah I've still not gone back to this one yet. I really want to get my focus back onto it cos I thought I had a clear idea but it was a long time ago when I jotted the first thousand words down. But it'll probably be the request fic first now.

4. Sleepless! (Aigonorus/MC)

Current word count: 3,902. I'm still torn with this one. Which may mean you might see a different Aigonorus fic from me (cos I really do want to give him a full length story).

5. Future Help (Ichthys/MC)

Current word count: 488. As before, this one is rather on the back burner at the moment.

6. Untitled (Ichthys/MC/Huedhaut)

Current word count: 688. Rating: Likely M due to dark themes (if I ever finish this one. The base of this might be reworked actually).

7. Fiery Encounter (Aigonorus/Reader)

Current word count: 714. I had a sudden idea for something and what I already have written for this one is the result. Hopefully someone out there is interested in an Aigo/Reader fic.

And now for the two that didn't exist last time I did a list (yeah there's a reason I shared that meme I did the other day...)

8. Untitled (Huedhaut/Tauoxlouve)

Current word count: 1,057. The start of a vague idea I had for these two. There's actually two others I'm considering (though one would be in my Karno/MC universe and I'm not sure about doing that)

9. Light vs Dark (Huedhaut/MC)

Current word count: 582. As you can probably tell from the title this has the under realm in it and maybe I ought to move away from that a little for a bit. That said this one is going to give me an excuse to write more Hiyori so...

#scm fanfic wip rambling

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urrone · 8 months

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wip amnesty - jordan eberle/taylor hall

Full disclosure, I think I've posted this before, but I'm officially posting it again just to get it off my chest and out of my active fics folder. It's never getting finished. At the end I will include my notes for how I would have ended it if I had the willpower to do so. I created this document in the year of our eldritch horror TWO THOUSAND THIRTEEN so that's how long it's been muddling through existence.

the new normal

It’s not that Taylor hasn’t heard of Oklahoma before, of course he has, though he doubts he could have ever picked it out on a map of the US. He’s just never, like, had to physically acknowledge its existence with his own presence, and it’s weird.

“Is it as flat as you thought?” Jeff, the intern the team sent to pick him up at the airport, carefully keeps his hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel. Bringing his truck down from home hadn’t made sense given he’s sure he won’t be here long, but Taylor misses driving already.

“I didn’t really think about it,” he says, and that’s definitely true. Foreign places always resemble a slightly different Canada in his mind until he sees them. And it’s not like anywhere in the US is really that different, not like going overseas.

And honestly, it does kind of remind him of Edmonton, only with fewer trees.

Jeff laughs when he says it out loud, and starts pointing out landmarks on the way to the apartment Taylor will share with Jordan. He’s never lost this much playing time before, and he isn’t sure if it’s that or seeing Jordan for the first time since April that has him wiping sweat off his palms every five minutes.

Taylor lets Jeff’s inane chatter ease him all the way to his new front door, on the second floor of a low rise apartment building that Jeff assures him is only a five-to-ten-minute bike ride from the arena. “It doesn’t look like a lot, but there’s some good stuff in Midtown,” Jeff says, gesturing vaguely to the road behind them.

Taylor doesn’t know how to respond to this but it doesn’t really matter because Jeff’s already gone.

“Are you telling me you actually brought your dirty laundry from Canada to wash down here?” Jordan says, looking at the pile of clothes in front of the washer. “You moved down here just so I'd do your laundry again, didn't you?”

Taylor laughs and chucks the socks he'd been wearing on top of the pile. It’s almost a relief to just fall back into chirping each other like they always used to. It helps him talk through the fluttery bits in his stomach. “Yep, it had absolutely nothing to do with finally being able to play again. I got tired of washing my own socks.”

Jordan picks one of the socks up and flicks it back at Taylor's face. “It doesn’t look like you’ve washed a sock since last season.”

Taylor bats it away, laughing around the new tight feeling that’s taken up residence in his chest. He'd really missed just being in the same room with Jordan, sitting on their mutually owned couch playing xbox, buying groceries they’d forget to eat, watching Jordan sort their dirty laundry.

“Why aren't you holding up your end then?” Jordan asks. He's given up bitching and started dumping the pile of clothes into the washer. “When's the last time you went grocery shopping?”

“Chill out, I just got here.”

“We can't eat at Earl's every day, dude.”

It's weird that he can eat at a place called Earl's in two different countries. Did they run out of restaurant names? The one down here doesn't have the variety of Edmonton’s, but their brisket is delicious, and Taylor doesn't see why they can't eat it every day if they want to. He says as much.

“The nutritionist might object.”

Fair point to Jordan. “Do you think Tubes would let me borrow his car?”

Jordan snorts. “No.”

Taylor flops down on the couch. “Well do you think he'd give me a ride to the grocery store?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether or not he's already going to the store.” Jordan flops down next to him, and it's not their awesome giant wrap around couch that Jordan’s mom bought them when they moved in, so next to him is kind of on top of him given the way that Taylor's sprawled, but Taylor doesn't mind. He likes Jordan's warm weight against him, even though it's kind of hot in their apartment, despite the air conditioning. It's weird that it's 30C in late October anywhere in the world.

“If we had Vespas we could go to the store.”

“How is grocery shopping with a Vespa different than grocery shopping with your bike?”

Taylor tries to shrug but his shoulders are stuck to the leather. “I'd get there faster?”

“Do you even know what a Vespa is?” Jordan nudges Taylor with his foot. “You still wouldn't have anywhere to put the groceries.”

Taylor doesn’t want to admit that no, he still doesn’t know. “I wouldn't get much. It's not like you're going to cook it.”

“Can't fit a lot of coconut water on a Vespa.”

“I could fit enough.” He nudges Jordan back with his knee, since his feet are currently trapped under Jordan's calves.

“Hey, Cheds.” Sometimes Taylor regrets ever telling Jordan about that nickname, but sometimes he likes that Jordan is the only one to use it anymore.

“What?”

Jordan won't make eye contact with him for a minute, which is weird because it's Jordan and Jordan has never been uncomfortable around Taylor, not even when they first met. “I just. I really missed you.”

It's weird to say his heart flips in his chest, because hearts don't actually do that, really, but Taylor might finally know what people mean when they say that, like this sick warm weird feeling right there behind his sternum. It's awesome and terrifying and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He waits until it passes and pats Jordan's shoulder, because Jordan's still looking weird. Which, granted, they hardly ever talk about their feelings for things other than food or hockey, but still. “I missed you too, you non.”

Jordan doesn't even smile at that, and Taylor suddenly feels like they're having two different conversations. “No,” Jordan says. “I mean. I missed. Jesus, Taylor, it was like six months.”

“No it wasn't, I was back in Edmonton that whole time. I mean, except for the surgery.”

“Not on the ice.”

“Well no, but—”

“Not over the summer.”

“We never spend the summer together.”

Jordan's looking at him now, but it's with the distinct impression that says Taylor's missing something big, and fuck if Taylor knows what it is. He kind of does though, because even when he'd been out with his ankle his rookie year, they'd still been around, and it hadn't been some planned thing like his shoulder where they knew it'd go through next season.

The shoulder thing had kind of scared him, and he guesses it must have scared Jordan a bit too. He puts his hand on Jordan's shoulder again, but leaves it there and holds on. “I get it,” he says, even though Jordan's still looking at him like he really doesn't. “I really did miss you too. And playing with you. And winning with you.”

Jordan looks kind of okay with that, and he reaches up to pat Taylor's hand.

“You want to hug it out?” Taylor asks.

Jordan laughs at that and smacks his hand away and things feel normal again, but a different kind of normal. “Fuck you, turn on the TV.”

If this is going to be their new normal, Taylor could be okay with that.

–

Practice is weird and it isn’t just because he hasn’t actually had a team practice since last season. Jordan and Ryan have been down for a month already, since before the home opener, and Taylor hates feeling a step behind. He knows some of the guys from training camp last year, but Schultz is new and Ryan follows him around like a duckling.

He’s also missed out on several months worth of inside jokes, which he hates almost more than feeling winded after sprints. During practice Justin hip checks Jordan and they both say “sauce” and crack up laughing. Taylor doesn’t feel bad at all when they both land on their asses and get yelled at.

Tubes laughs at Taylor when he mentions the grocery store, but Hamilton takes pity on him. (Taylor hadn't really planned this well and asked in the locker room. If anyone chirps him about it, he's totally throwing Jordan under the bus about the laundry. Cereal is way better than socks.)

“We can go after practice,” Hammy says. “I've gotta go anyway.”

They end up driving way further north than Taylor's been before, he hasn't really made it past 23rd St on his bike, and stopped there because there wasn’t a bike lane. He figures if it isn't in the confines of downtown, he doesn't really need it.

“But you do,” Hammy says. “Because they don't have a Whole Foods down there.” He then spends about fifteen minutes bitching about the grocery store situation in Oklahoma, because apparently the liquor laws in the States are different than Canada, and for some reason that means no good grocery stores exist in this state. “It's a big fucking mess,” Hammy finishes, just as he parks. He catches Taylor giving him whatever look must have been on his face, because really, grocery stores. “What?” Hammy asks.

“I had no idea someone could have so many feelings about grocery stores.”

Hammy just pushes him into a parked car, and they both run when the alarm starts blaring.

–

“Did you know it's not even called KD down here?” Taylor asks, neatly arranging the offensively labeled blue boxes in the cupboard.

“I did, actually,” Jordan says, not even looking up from the TV.

“You could have warned me.”

“I'm sorry, was it a shock to your delicate nature?”

Taylor lobs one of the wet sponges on the sink at Jordan's head, and fuck yeah he's got excellent hand-eye coordination, it hits Jordan right in the ear. Jordan yelps and comes at him, and Taylor barely gets out “I'm sorry, was it a shock to your delicate ear?” before Jordan has him pinned on the kitchen floor, laughing into the tile.

Taylor gets his hands under him and shoves up. He's got height and weight on Jordan, which has always made wrestling pathetically unmatched, especially when Jordan forgets to do shit like pin his hands. He gets Jordan wedged into the corner between the cabinets and the floor, and even with Jordan squirming and kicking his truly massive thighs around, he can't dislodge Taylor. Taylor is the fucking master of pinning people.

“Say it,” he says. It's unfortunately a little muffled because he's got Jordan's shoulder pinned with his head, and his mouth is full of Jordan' shirt. Still, it's a familiar enough routine by now, and Jordan's face is free and clear.

“No.”

Taylor presses down harder, his feet hooked over Jordan's legs and their arms tangled. It'd be horrible form if either of them had ever actually officially wrestled in any kind of formal manner, but there aren't any rules here. They're touching knee to head and it’s apparently part of the new normal that Taylor notices this time. Notices exactly how they line up, how Jordan's thigh flexes between his, how Jordan's breath pants across Taylor's forehead as he struggles. He doesn't know why he's never thought about this before, how good everything feels. He's missed it. They've had to be too careful about Taylor's shoulder for so long.

“Say it,” he says again, and hopes his voice doesn't sound as wrecked as he feels.

“You're better than me!”

“At what.”

Jordan sags against the floor and Taylor finds himself resisting absolutely nothing, and then they're just two guys, cuddling on the kitchen floor. “At literally everything,” Jordan says.

Taylor lifts his head. “That escalated quickly.”

“Fuck you, don't quote Anchorman at me.”

“Don't say ridiculous shit.”

Jordan shrugs and Taylor feels it with his whole torso and remembers that, oh yeah, he's still basically laying on top of Jordan, and it isn't for wrestling reasons anymore. He gets up and offers a hand to Jordan. “NHL 13?”

He laughs when Jordan slaps his hand away. “I'm gonna kick your ass,” Jordan says, levering himself up against the cabinets.

“Yeah, we'll see.”

–

Taylor's first week playing with the team for real and not just practicing involves a road trip down to Texas. On a bus. Taylor remembers taking buses to games, it honestly hasn't been that long, but the drive from OKC down to Houston is going to be like eight hours. And because he’s who he is he decides to complain about it out loud in the middle of Earl’s. “Welcome to the AHL,” he mutters.

“It's not that bad,” Jordan says.

“You're like a foot shorter than me, of course you don't think it's that bad.”

Jordan flicks a fry at him. Taylor tries unsuccessfully to catch it in his mouth. “I'm like inches shorter than you,” Jordan says. “Very few inches.”

“At least two,” Ryan says helpfully.

Justin nods. “But not more than six.”

“Fuck you both, it's not six inches.”

Taylor flicks a pickle at Jordan. Fries are too precious to waste, and he's really not a fan of pickles. “I can see over your head without even trying. It's enough.”

“You cannot.”

“I can.”

“Prove it.”

“Right now?”

Jordan gets up from their booth and stands next to it, hands on his hips. “Yes, right now.”

“You look stupid.” Taylor looks at Ryan and Justin, but they're both concentrating really hard on eating right now and are exactly no help. “Seriously?”

Justin looks up from his barbecue. “It makes Nugget really uncomfortable when his parents yell at each other,” he says, with a truly impressive deadpan expression. Taylor is forced to begrudgingly admit, only to himself, that Justin could teach lessons.

Taylor sighs heavily and ridiculously and throws his napkin down. “Fine.” He knows he's exaggerated his and Jordan’s height differences. Jordan knows he's exaggerated their height differences. Literally everyone knows he's exaggerated their height differences, and he stands up and his eyes are right on Jordan's forehead and of course he can't see shit over his head and he hates that he had to stand up and leave his barbecue behind. “Whatever, you non. Fine.” He sits back down again. “Two inches. Why were we talking about this again?”

Jordan is insufferably triumphant with his shit-eating grin. “The bus,” Jordan reminds him. “It's not that bad, so quit your fucking whining.”

“Language, Ebby,” Taylor says. “This is a family establishment.”

Jordan kicks him under the table, and it's really fucking hard actually, but then he leaves his leg pressed up against Taylor's until they leave.

–

Taylor shifts around for the millionth time in as many minutes. The bus is too hot and too cold and too cramped and too . . . everything. He's got his iPad out and has Dexter queued up but can't find a good position for the iPad and his legs and his shoulders. Jordan shotgunned the window seat on the way to the bus and at first Taylor thought that the aisle would be awesome, more room for his legs, but then Arco spread out a blanket, grabbed his pillow, and camped out in the aisle. It's a mad genius idea and Taylor wishes he'd thought of it first, but now he's got nowhere for his legs except under the seat in front of him.

“Stop squirming,” Jordan says, shoving at his shoulder. “I can't sleep when you squirm.”

“I can't get comfortable,” Taylor says, shoving back. “This is the worst.”

House kicks his seat. “Tell us again how wonderful the Oilers plane is, seriously.”

Taylor hunches down in his seat. This is the worst, the absolute worst, but he might be down here for the whole season, given the way the negotiations are going, and he doesn't really want to be that guy.

“Here, just.” Jordan starts manhandling him a bit. “Sit up a minute, will you?” Taylor does and Jordan pulls his leg up behind Taylor and Taylor does not at all see how this is going to be comfortable? But then Jordan grabs his shoulders and turns Taylor away from him and pulls his back into Jordan's chest, so Taylor is basically reclining in a Jordan chair. Taylor tries really hard and really unsuccessfully to not think about every point of contact between them.

He swings his legs up onto the armrest across the aisle, basically right over Arco's head, but he's asleep and Danis is all alone across the aisle and sleeping with his face mashed against the window and obviously not using the arm rest right now.

“Better?” Jordan whispers, and it's right in his ear and that's definitely what makes the goosebumps spread across the back of his neck. He wonders what Jordan will attribute his full body shudder to, but Jordan doesn't actually ask. Also is it better? No. And yes.

“Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. It really has no business being comfortable, because they're still two tall, muscular dudes shoved into a seat made for people roughly half their size, but somehow it is, and it’s weird that it is.

Jordan slings his arm over Taylor's shoulder, because it's that or leave it mashed between Taylor and the seat. He can feel when Jordan falls asleep again, because his breath gets deep and even against Taylor's shoulder.

Taylor puts his earbuds in, props the iPad against his knees, and hits play. He’ll deal with how good all of this feels later.

–

It’s Justin’s idea to go see Cloud Atlas. Taylor doesn’t really like going to movie theaters, he gets bored just sitting there trying to follow along with a plot he doesn’t really care about. He relents when Jordan tells him to stop being a non and promises to buy him a popcorn and lemonade, so he gets on his bike and follows them all down the street to the theater.

Somehow, when they all go to sit down, Taylor ends up on the end of the row next to Justin, and Jordan’s on the other end next to Ryan, and all Taylor has is his watery lemonade. Ryan and Justin do this thing during the previews where they do a thumbs up or down on whether or not they’ll go see the movie. Jordan starts giving his opinion after he sees Ryan and Justin doing it.

Taylor keeps his thumb down the whole time and eventually Justin stops turning to ask.

He only makes it thirty-seven minutes into the movie. By the sixth time a new storyline is introduced and he’s leaned over again to Justin to ask if that’s still Tom Hanks under all the makeup and Justin has shushed him yet again, he just gets up and leaves. He waits in the lobby to see if anyone follows him but eventually Taylor has to concede that they might not have even noticed he’d left. Or maybe they just thought he was taking an extended bathroom break.

The lobby of the movie theater is boring and doesn’t have any couches and he’s actually pretty close to home because everything is pretty close to their apartment, so he just leaves.

He bikes around downtown. There’s a little canal area near the theater and a big statue of a covered wagon. He likes the canal. It’s absolutely nothing like the river in Edmonton but whatever, it’s trying. He stops outside Toby Keith’s restaurant to tweet about the movie and laughs at Whits’ response.

Most of the time he’s not sure if it’s Oklahoma City that he likes or his anonymity. No one recognizes him here. No one stops him on the sidewalk to ask about their Cup chances. No one laments to him about their godawful power play, or how long it’s been since their last playoff run. No one gives him their insider tips or advice on going top shelf or five hole. He hasn’t been this anonymous in a really long time.

If he’d stopped to think about it, and he never had, obviously, he’d have assumed he’d find it lonely, isolating. The first time he’d left the country, to go someplace that wasn’t the United States, he’d gone all the way to Russia for hockey. They had people to help them around, translators assigned to help them order dinner and find their way to the bathrooms. And, other than thinking they were obnoxious tourists, the Russians hadn’t really cared much about who he was. He keeps thinking about that time, about being in the middle of a crowd of people and completely unable to communicate with any of them unless they spoke English.

They speak English in Oklahoma but it’s the same feeling, like there’s something lost in translation between him and the people strolling along the canal.

He’d never been alone in Russia though, Jordan had been with him. He wonders why he feels more alone now, and he kind of hates it.

As he’s contemplating that feeling, he realizes he’s hit the highway. And because he’s hit the highway, he doesn’t actually know where he is. It should be easy just turn around and go back the way he came, plus all the streets in Oklahoma City are numbered, but he can’t figure it out. He lets Siri direct him back to the apartment.

That's where it ends, these are the notes:

Lockout ends and they go back and Taylor is still pissy and doesn’t know why

Jordan confronts him about it

Taylor finally says that OKC was balls but he missed feeling like they were about to start something, like they were removed from their normal lives in a place where anything could happen

Jordan calls him an idiot and kisses him

“It was like. Anything could happen there. We could have just been two normal guys. And it made me think, if we were just two normal guys, what would I do.”

“But you didn’t do anything.”

Taylor shrugs. “We still weren’t normal guys, even though it felt like it.”

“What’s normal? Nothing’s normal. There’s no such thing as normal.”

“You know what I mean.”

“So we make a new normal,” Jordan says, and kisses him.

Okay but now that I’ve been reminded of it I need to add something in there about bonking their heads together as they kiss.

#huge shout out to all of my hockey friends #who read this story #and offered suggestions #that i never implemented #bc i never finished it #my fic #this work is not in progress #hallberle #hockey fic

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