#also i hope this is mostly easy to read and coherent. today was not a good health day and i'm on some wild painkillers right now. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solacefruit · 5 years

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Hello! This is the person who wrote the one shots on Quotev — the one that anon went through so much trouble to get sent your way. If you’d be willing, I would appreciate genuine critique of my work — I’m genuinely looking for how I might improve my writing, and I haven’t been getting very much feedback. Apologies if you’re too busy or if this bothers you!

Hello there! I’m willing to give you my thoughts on your work, since you’ve asked so politely and gone to such effort, but before I do that, I’d like to preface everything by saying that I’m going to approach this answer more or less the same way I would give feedback to students in a class. I think that’s most helpful. I also hope none of this feedback comes off as harsh or hurtful, because that’s not at all my intention.

You clearly know how to write well: your work is well-edited, with only a few errors here and there (be careful using semicolons, they can be very tricky). It’s clear you know the rules of writing, so I don’t think you’ve got a lot of room for improvement there.

The stories themselves, though, didn’t click for me as a reader. I didn’t get pulled into the world you’ve created and I didn’t connect with your characters. That doesn’t mean that what you’ve done is bad, though! But I am going to suggest some ideas for restructuring your work that might help make your stories more dynamic and effective in capturing and retaining your reader, or showing off your skills and ideas to better effect.

Your first story begins with the description of the character in a lot of depth, but I cannot recommend this as an opening paragraph. If you’re ever writing a manuscript, you need to remember that your first page is your first–and often only–chance to hook your reader and convince them to keep going. (Especially true if you’re sending your work to a publisher!) Because of that, a lot of good stories begin with first page or two that does everything it can to tell you who, what, where, and the tone of the book.

Very few good stories start with the “I have black hair and blue eyes and today I am wearing a big hat” type character description, unless that is actually important–i.e., The Little White Horse begins with Maria detailing to herself what she’s wearing, because she’s vain and it brings her comfort to know she looks beautiful, which matters because… [and then the plot begins]; the first Harry Potter book describes the Dursleys in very Dahl-esque fashion, which matters because… [contrast them to the peculiar happenings of the plot emerging]. What your character does is almost always more interesting than what they look like, so it’s often a sensible idea to prioritise your narration accordingly. Both of the above examples tell you who, the tone of the story, and then what is happening, while filling in other details so you know where and when by the end of the first chapter.

Something else I noticed in your work is that you’re a keen world-builder with a lot of ideas, but I found your stories to be a little overwhelmed by that, rather than enriched by it. This is something I’ve seen a lot in young creative writers, so it’s definitely not you and it’s not actually a fault, exactly–but it can detract from your work and make your work actually less inviting to read, rather than more, and that’s something that’s important for speculative fiction writers to be aware of. I’m currently working on a series of tips and tricks requested by popular demand, so I’ll probably elaborate more on this later, but basically, your world-building should be an iceberg: you know how immense it is, but your reader will only see a small delicious fragment of it.

Oversupplying world-building details often makes works impenetrable or–most commonly–overshadows the characters and plot and sinks interest in the ship story. (For me, the most egregious example that jumps to mind is Foundling by D.M. Cornish but that’s a rant for another day). Your work isn’t too overcrowded, I feel, but for me, I got the sense that you used your stories as vessels for your world-building, instead of using your world-building to decorate and deepen your stories. The reason this causes problems is because people–myself included–are most often motivated to read because they relate, connect to, or are curious about characters, rather than a world. (Worlds are very fun, don’t get me wrong! It’s just that world-building tends to be most fun for the people doing it, not the people reading it).

Finally, something I wanted to bring to your attention is style, and particularly streamlining it and leaning into your own voice. At the moment, your work is a little heavy with what I think of as “fanfiction-itis” for lack of a better concept. It’s basically an overall tendency to 1. be uncertain about what person the story is told in, or jump between views. This can be a choice! But it’s one you should be making consciously. There’s first-, second-, and third-person, but in third-person, there’s also an omniscient narration and limited narration. Each can be used to huge effect–but you need to pick the right one for the story you’re telling and stick to it. 2. over-rely on epithets and character description. Often this is a result of the above when it’s third-person omniscient. As a rule of thumb, you don’t really need to use epithets much at all. “The taller boy,” “the blonde girl,” and so on doesn’t add anything, but it does often distract and make the writing look a bit… juvenile to experienced writers. Unless the description is saying something about the character that’s worth knowing, it’s usually best not to bother with it. “The black-furred warrior walked by” says a lot less than “Blackfur stalked past, scowling.”

3. use unnecessary or tautological dialogue tags. I’ve seen a lot of “said is dead” passed around on this site, and that’s great advice to follow if you want your work to be unenjoyable and annoying to read. Said is the most useful dialogue tag, because it is invisible to us, and many other “common” tags are likewise useful–things like asked, or replied. You only need to use a different and noticeable dialogue tag when it changes the dialogue in a meaningful way. For example: i. “what did you do?” he queried. ii. “what did you do?” he asked. iii. “what did you do? he asked cautiously. iv. “what did you do?” v. “what did you do?” he said, but he was looking away, distracted. The first one’s dialogue tag is useless and clunky: we know he asked a question, there’s a question mark there, but unlike “asked,” queried really stands out and can break the flow of reading. The second one is unobtrusive, but doesn’t tell us anything about the tone of his question: he could be angry, purely curious, scared, who knows! The third one tells us his tone, but be careful not to overuse adverbs–that’s J.K. Rowling’s curse. The fourth tells us that, whatever he’s asking about, he’s worked up about it and it’s probably not great! The fifth is an example of how you can actually turn dialogue tags into full sentences sometimes. By being precise with your dialogue tags, you can make your dialogue really pop, and also not distract your reader.

4. tell, rather than show. We’ve all heard “show, don’t tell” as writing advice, but there are actually a lot of times when “telling” is perfectly fine. However, broadly speaking, characters tend to feel more alive if you make them act out their personalities, rather than recount them to your reader. If someone has a big personality, you don’t need to say it: it’ll become abundantly clear from their actions soon enough!

By being aware of these things and making conscious choices–even if your conscious choices are to keep doing these things!–your strength and skill in storytelling will improve. It looks to me that you’ve gotten to the point where now you have to hone the talent you already have, which means that being precise and self-reflective about your writing style and choices is probably going to be the best course for you to improve going forward.

I hope this is helpful to you! I want to stress that all of this advice is offered in a “take what is useful to you, leave the rest” spirit. For every piece of writing advice, there’s excellent writing that contradicts it, so honestly a lot of good writing is just knowing when to follow advice and when not to, when to follow a rule and when to break it. Good luck with all your future work!

#reply #advice #this is basically the kind of thing that my tips and tricks guides will look like by the way. thank you everyone for the support!#it's very flattering and lovely to see so many people excited to hear me talk. always takes me a little by surprise but in a nice way.#also i hope this is mostly easy to read and coherent. today was not a good health day and i'm on some wild painkillers right now.#oh also fun fact: joke rowling's favourite book growing up was the little white horse. hence why i've linked them here.#it's such a shame that joke rowling is such a terf dingbat because she's regrettably such a helpful teaching touchstone.#the other month i was teaching high schoolers and it's so useful to be like 'okay so in harry potter--' and immediately they Get It.

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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love thy neighbor | kun (m)

title: love thy neighbor pairing: kun x black reader genre: fluff, smut, neighbors to lovers request: “Hello again Rain! I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to see you're open for requests again. Your writing in general is a treat to look forward to. An idea for a fic I'd like to suggest is wayv kun/black oc where they're neighbors that secretly pine for another and do feel free get very nsfw lmao. TY!” word count: 5.7k warnings: alcohol use, protected sex, dirty talk, dry humping, riding a/n: i used a prompt from this list of ideas to help me create this fic.

i’m sorry, this fic could’ve theoretically been finished long ago but took me 3893 years because kun intimidates me (and i don’t know why) and that makes it hard to write for him l m f a o chile anyway...

Your neighbor might actually kill you one day—but only in the figurative sense.

Kun is too beautiful and kind for your sanity; he’s like one of those men out of a romantic novel who simply should not exist. In other words, the ideal guy. One who helps all the little old ladies in the building take their groceries up to their apartments, one who feeds all the stray cats that hang around the complex, one who helps new tenants move their things in without even being asked.

Your roommate Charlotte would probably be totally smitten over him just like you if she did not already have her own happy relationship with her girlfriend. But since she does, she has decided to spend her time instead teasing you about your crush on him and trying to persuade you into getting tangled up in a matchmaking mess.

“I’m sure he already has a girlfriend, I don’t know, trying to shoot my shot seems ridiculous,” you say to her, worrying the edge of your blanket in your hands. You toss and turn on the couch, flipping onto your stomach and sighing before shuffling onto your back again. “People like that can never stay single for long. Right? They get snapped up quick.”

“You’d know if you simply asked,” Charlotte points out. “Staring holes into his head won’t help you find out more about him.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, your fingers stumbling over the blanket as it momentarily slips from your hands. Still, the idea of asking him if he’s dating anyone, whether discreetly or more openly, makes you nervous. You’ve talked to Kun several times before, even hung out with him at those friendly get-togethers your apartment building always holds to get the residents mingling, but you’re still anxious around him. It makes you feel silly, like you’re back in high school; but you aren’t quite sure what to do with those emotions or how to form them into something coherent. “Easy to say all that when you already have the person you want, though.”

“Oh, girl. Love is not easy, but that’s why you have to fucking work for it. AKA, go for what—or who—the hell you want and stop pining over him like some lost Juliet on our couch. It’s better than watching you flop around like a dying fish.”

You stand up from the couch abruptly, leaving your blanket to the side and glaring at her. “You don’t get it, ugh.”

“I get it! But you refuse to let me help—”

“Yes, because if I did, you’d say something completely ridiculous and tell him I’m madly in love with him or something.” You head to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror.

Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey, maybe. But that wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Really? I don’t think—”

“I think so. The way you talk about this guy, it’s definitely sounding a little like love to me.”

Once you’re satisfied, you come back in the main room and grab your keys, wanting to end this conversation before Charlotte sets a world record for how many times she can make you feel embarrassed. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go to the corner store, so...speak now if you need something or forever hold your peace.”

“You can’t run from it,” Charlotte sing-songs, going back to reading her magazine. “And no, I don’t need anything.”

Once you get out your front door, it’s just your luck when you see Kun’s door is also open. You are not dressed for running into him, of all people; your “corner store” clothes being just a T-shirt, leggings, and slides. You freeze in place and momentarily think about unlocking your door and bolting back inside, which you realize is utterly ridiculous. By then, it’s too late; he’s already coming out his door and closing it behind him.

He perks up when he sees you outside, smiling at you with those deep dimples that make your insides melt. “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“Kun! Uh—great to see you too.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” he asks. Inwardly, he feels a bit silly for asking because you clearly are, keys in hand and everything.

“Yeah, just to the store to get a few things.” You wave your hand, and you almost have the urge to lean on your doorframe to appear more calm and collected than you are. Which could potentially end up looking sillier than you intended. “How about you?”

“Going to see a friend,” he answers, and he brushes his hand through his hair in a way that’s completely casual but somehow modelesque at the same time. This is unbelievable, you think to yourself. “We haven’t met up in a while, so…”

“Oh yeah, it’s always nice to go out with old friends,” you say, smiling at the thought of it. Kun nods his agreement, and then has an abrupt, wild idea to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere sometime. Too busy warring with himself over whether he should take the dive, he doesn’t notice you heading towards the stairs already. “I hope you two have a good time!”

“Oh—thanks. Hope you enjoy your trip.” He chuckles, following you down the steps to get to his car. Well, that moment has passed. Sure, he could probably still ask you now if he was bold enough about it, but it feels too awkward to randomly ask someone out in the middle of a stairwell.

You wave bye to him once you both get in the parking lot. He watches you walk to your car with a wistful smile on his face. He wants to say more to you, but the timing isn’t right and it’s best not to hold you up right now. Plus, Hendery’s probably already waiting for him.

It would’ve provided you with a lot of relief if you knew Kun was facing a similar dilemma to you. He’d never had much problem talking to women he liked in the past, but something about you made him feel clumsy and hesitant. But just like with your inability to move forward, there’s no way for you to know his feelings without him saying anything about it—which he has been hesitating over for the longest.

Maybe he was also still cowering from the embarrassment of the time he’d tried to show you a magic trick that didn’t quite work out, but it was a convenient excuse. At least for him, anyway.

One day he’d get the courage to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t think today was that day.

–

Some strong shots and a few hours at the club was exactly what you needed to unravel your nerves after a long week. You and a few others from your work had decided to go out that Saturday night as a group effort to unwind from dealing with your overbearing boss. “Just a couple shots” eventually turned into more than that, though, but you weren’t complaining. As long as it gave you the opportunity to discard all your issues for a while, you didn’t mind losing yourself a little.

However, your night of fun quickly dissolves into frustration when you realize you’ve lost your keys and have no way to get back into your apartment. You’re not even sure where they might’ve disappeared—in the club, or in the rideshare back to your apartment?

Charlotte is out of the city for the week visiting her long-distance girlfriend, so there’s no way you’re getting back in your apartment tonight. The main office won’t be open at this hour, either; it’s the weekend, and nobody will be there regardless until Monday. And you’re definitely not drunk enough or desperate enough to try to bust the door down.

Though it pains you to do so, you knock on Kun’s door, your head throbbing and dizzy. You feel bad about this. He won’t even be awake at this hour and might not answer, but you don’t know what other options you have. You aren’t familiar enough with your other neighbors to ask this of them. Especially not the old lady living on the other side of you who has a perpetually judgmental aura towards everyone in the apartment building. The only person she seems marginally approving of is none other than the man himself—Qian Kun.

It takes a good minute or two, but you hear the latch unlock, and Kun is suddenly standing in front of you, a look of concern on his sleepy face. He is adorable like this, in his pajamas and his hair mussed and his eyes foggy with sleep. He’s so cute it makes you want to cry—and so you do.

But your tears are mostly because you’re very tipsy and tired and currently locked out of your very comfortable apartment.

This awakens Kun immediately. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He gently pulls you into his apartment, his tone quiet but panicked as you put your face in your hands and cry. You just shake your head for a few moments, crying too much to say anything to him. When you don’t reply, he doesn't try to press you for answers; he just puts his arms around you, a bit carefully as if you’re made of some easily breakable material, and lets you wet his T-shirt with your tears.

Finally, when you’ve collected yourself some, you abruptly feel foolish for crying over something like this. He probably thinks someone’s died, and you’ve gotten him all worked up for practically nothing. “I-I’m locked out,” you sigh heavily, and he has enough politeness not to outwardly react to your alcohol breath with your close proximity. “And my roommate is gone…forever.”

His eyebrows lift. “Forever?”

“The whole week, Kun...but it feels like...f-forever.”

“Ah...I see. Is that why you were crying?”

You put your head back in your hands. “Just kill me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kun says, and there is a tiny lift to his mouth like he wants to smile at your dramatics. “It’s fine. You can stay here tonight.”

“Kun, thank you.” You’re still loosely embracing each other, and you squeeze your arms more tightly around him. Maybe it’s just a reason to rest your head on his chest again and hear his heart beating strong against your cheek, but you wouldn’t admit that. Wait, why is his heart beating so fast? “Thank youuu, I love you so much, this means the world to me.”

Kun’s mind catches on the words I love you so much, and he knows you’re just drunk and need to sleep it off and aren’t really thinking about what you’re saying, but he cannot help lingering there for a moment. He’s glad the front room is still dim from the single lamp he turned on, otherwise you might notice the flush growing on his cheeks. “I...it’s no problem. We should get you comfortable, then.”

As it turns out, get you comfortable means he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. In another context you’d protest, not wanting to kick him out of his own space, but you are simply too smashed to think about it. You’re seconds away from falling asleep where you stand now that the adrenaline of discovering you’re locked out has worn off. Kun has the idea to make you drink some ice cold water, though, which wakes you up enough to take a proper shower.

By the time you get out of the shower and are wearing his clothes—his clothes—you are feeling a little more sober. You also feel like you’re going to have another small meltdown over all this. “This” being: wearing Kun’s clothes and standing in his bedroom, which is decorated with all his interests and treasured belongings. There’s a small studio setup in one corner, which interests you, but you don’t investigate it any further.

Now you have another little problem, though; what are you gonna do about the pillows? You don’t have anything to cover your hair with, with all your scarves and bonnets in your own apartment. One night of sleeping on a cotton pillow wouldn’t kill you, but that doesn’t make it any less distasteful to think about.

Kun comes into the bedroom to check on you and sees you puzzling around, sitting on the bed and looking awkward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. It’s nothing really,” you rush out, unsure if you should tell him about a problem he likely won’t even understand. It must be at least 4:00 a.m. by now, meaning you both desperately need to get some sleep.

“You can tell me, I won’t bite.”

I wouldn’t mind if you did pops into your head, but you immediately try to ignore that thought and are silently grateful that you do not blush visibly.

“Uh, my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Okay, I need to cover it at night so it won’t get all broken off or anything—sleeping on cotton does wonders for destroying moisture—but I don’t have anything here to use. I mean—it’s...not a huge deal though, I can deal with it for a night?” You’re rambling now. Kun just nods, taking in all this information like he’s listening to something very important and very interesting.

“So then, what would you do to stop that?”

“Wear a scarf, or a bonnet, or using a silk pillowcase works, too. But you probably don’t have any of that stuff, you don’t have to bother with it—”

“Well, let me see.” Kun disappears into his closet and you pause, wondering for a moment if he actually does have a bonnet or something in there. Which would probably be a little hilarious to you.

He comes back out with not a bonnet of a scarf or even a pillowcase, but one of his own shirts. It’s just the right material though, being a pretty purple silk.

“Oh—Kun.” At this point, there are several emotions all trying to come to the forefront, though you have no clue which one to settle on. “Your shirt? You really don’t have to. I could…”

“It’s just a shirt, Y/N. There are a lot more where that comes from...I don’t mind.” He chuckles.

You sigh bashfully but take the shirt from him. “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” You cover the pillow with his shirt, and it works perfectly.

“Anyway, if you need anything else, just tell me,” he says, lingering by the door.

“I will...thank you,” you say, your voice quiet as you give him a nervous smile. Only when he shuts the door and his footsteps fade away do you allow yourself to bunch the comforter in your fists and scream into it. Everything in here smells just like him, which is probably more than enough to fuel all of your Qian Kun-related daydreams for the next 8 months.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when you finally do lie down, and your mind is blissfully empty of anything throughout the night.

The next day takes a bit of settling into. You’re momentarily alarmed when you wake up faced with a strange room until you remember last night’s events and recall where you are. There is also the smell of food, good food, which is also sadly unfamiliar to you. Charlotte can’t cook to save either of your lives, so you know you’d never be waking up to the smell of a professional chef-approved breakfast if you were still in your apartment with her.

Walking out of Kun’s room, you see that he’s in the kitchen, halfway finished with cooking breakfast for the both of you. It’s more like brunch at this hour, but what does that matter.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to imagine that this is what things would be like if you were dating. Getting this view everyday? Life cannot be this unfair.

Maybe not too much, though, since you are standing in his kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” he greets you, breaking your reverie. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. I slept great. Thanks again for, you know, the shirt, haha…”

He grins, and his dimples come out. “Sure thing. Go ahead and sit! Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It’s the best breakfast you’ve eaten since living with Charlotte; maybe some of the best food you’ve ever had. “I had no idea you could cook this well,” you say. “I mean. I guess I wouldn’t since I haven’t—you know, uh—eaten here before, but—it’s great.” It’s just your luck that your thoughts come out in this fumbling mini-rant, but Kun only laughs good-naturedly.

“Thank you, I’m truly glad you like it.”

You both continue eating breakfast while making light conversation. This just might be the longest conversation you’ve had with each other, and that knowledge seems surreal. You’re almost a little glad you lost your key. Almost.

“So...today is Sunday. And the leasing office still won’t be open until Monday.” Kun says this over the remnants of breakfast. He speaks in a measured tone, like he’s trying to ensure he says the right thing. Whatever that could possibly be. “And you told me your roommate won’t be back until Monday.”

To your credit, you hadn’t exactly accounted for this when you first came over to his place in your distressed state. That means another night spent in his apartment though, which becomes very obvious to you now. “Ah. Sorry, am I imposing?”

“What—no, I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you can stay here tonight, or—however long you need.”

Relief floods through you, and you briefly wonder why you even worried about it; as far as you know, he’s not the kind of person to just kick someone out. “Ohh, of course—that’s good to know. Thank you for all this!”

“You’re welcome.” You miss the smile he gives to your response as you’re busy drinking your juice, but it’s one filled with a certain affection.

It feels a bit awkward to just sit around in his apartment all day, with nothing to do and all your belongings still locked out of your reach in your own place, so Kun shows you the studio in the corner of his room. He’d talked about being into music before, but you’d never heard anything of his until now.

When he plays the keyboard for you, it’s to the tune of a beautiful self-composed song. You almost pinch yourself to remind yourself this isn’t a hallucination or a fever dream. A man this appealing really exists, and you’ve stayed the night in his apartment and eaten his breakfast. You give a small round of applause when he finishes.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you became a famous singer or something? I’d come to all your concerts,” you say lightly, kicking your legs on the edge of his bed.

“All? Really, all?” He laughs.

“Yes, all. A voice and talent like that deserves all the attention.” You lean back on his bed, stretching your legs out. “But all your venues would probably be sold out. Hopefully you’d remember me from your lil’ ole apartment building. I’m sure you’d be living in a penthouse by then.”

Kun smiles bashfully at your compliments, waving his hands as if it’s too much. “Thank you. But I don’t think I could ever forget you.” His voice grows a bit softer. His expression is more genuine than you expect for a conversation that was so playful only seconds ago, and you find it hard to hold eye contact all of a sudden.

It is your turn to be bashful, and you shrug in an effort to seem natural. “Well, I’m flattered.” Despite your unaffected demeanor, you don’t think those words will leave your mind for a good while, even if you wonder about the meaning of them.

Later that evening, Kun makes dinner and you watch TV together, flipping to whatever channels have dramas or movies playing.

You two eventually fall into another conversation when you can’t find anything good to watch—one that does not make you overly nervous for once. During a lull in the talking, that big question pops up into your mind, and you wince internally at how Charlotte would’ve already told you to make a move. You aren't sure how to do that without making him uncomfortable or seeming too sudden, but you decide to make an attempt.

You edge into it with, “So, um, your place looks pretty nice for one guy. It’s just you here, right?”

“Ah yeah, just me. Thanks, I do try my best.”

“Haha, I’m used to my guy friends all having super messy apartments until they get a girlfriend and she teaches them how to clean a stove for the first time…”

“Oh really? That’s a bit sad for them, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s all me.”

Just the information you were looking for. You try not to show your elation. “Why not?” you blurt out. Then you cringe because this might sound too invasive or even judgmental, but Kun only grins. “It’s just, it’s a little surprising. You’re such a generous person. You seem to care about everyone, even those poor stray kitties that stay outside the apartments all the time.”

He smiles timidly in response to receiving more of your compliments. “I guess it seems curious when you put it like that.” Just like when you’d drunkenly said I love you so much, there’s suddenly heat on the back of his neck that he hopes won’t turn into another blush that’ll expose him. “I don’t really know, I haven’t thought much about it; life’s weird like that.” He isn’t really sure how to answer that question in a way that won’t be too big of a hint that he’s interested in you, though he’s also not entirely sure why he’s still trying to hide it. Wouldn’t now be the perfect opportunity? When will you two have this much time together again? Still, you staying in his apartment for two days doesn’t mean you like him, and maybe he’s jumping the gun.

“That’s true. Guess that’s the same reason why I’ve been alone for a while now.” You shake your head.

“You?” Kun is equally surprised to know this about you.

You laugh incredulously. “Does that shock you or something?”

“I...well.” He rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the words. “I just thought...you’re very pretty, and you’re always really kind when we speak, so...”

“Oh?” Your face heats up at that.

“Yeah, I…think anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your body’s first instinct is to freeze with nervousness, but you know Charlotte would be kicking your ass in gear right now if she were somehow here. So, you decide to stop stressing about it and just do it. “Well...wouldn’t it be nice if we both had a way to fix our problems at the same time?”

Kun pauses for a moment before replying. “What do you suggest?” He knows what you are proposing—you can see in his eyes and his slight grin and his posture that he knows—but maybe he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Hm, well…I don’t know, what do you think?” You lean a bit closer to him, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look innocent and unassuming. His smile turns into something different with your increased proximity. Something a little more sly.

Mirroring your actions, he inches nearer to you until there’s little space left between. “Well, I think…” Kun tentatively closes the remaining gap between the two of you, the rest of his sentence left to linger as his soft lips envelop yours.

Maybe it’s corny to say it, but it definitely feels like one of those fairytale kisses with the fireworks going off and streamers popping; even though you’re sitting on his couch wearing his pajamas, some movie in the background you’ve long forgotten the plot of, empty dinner plates sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You aren’t sure how you end up in his lap—who made the first move? Was it his hand on your back or your hands on his shoulders? You straddle him on the couch, your arms slipping around his shoulders and his hands on your back but assuredly traveling farther down your body.

Kun’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pulling the fabric of his shorts up a few inches higher. “I never thought I’d see you wearing my clothes,” he says lowly, grinning against your mouth.

“I also never thought I’d be sitting in your lap like this, but maybe sometimes dreams do come true,” you say jokingly, your lips rubbing against his skin as you slowly kiss his jaw.

You can’t see his expression, but his eyebrows shoot up at that. “Dreams, huh? You think about me often?” His voice pitches lower when he asks this, aroused by the thought of you imagining anything quite so lewd about him. You’ve definitely incriminated yourself now and won’t be able to wiggle out of it without an answer.

“...Maybe.”

“What do you think about me?” Kun grips your hips, which quickly turns into him grabbing your ass—tentatively at first to test the waters, and then firmly enough to grind you against his hardening cock. Sensing him solid and warm underneath you sends a shockwave down your spine, and the sensation heightens when his voice caresses your ear, all low and tense with arousal. “It’s just the two of us here. No one else has to know.”

“I think about your...lips. How you might kiss me. Or what you might say to me. And...your hands.” You pause there, a quiet breath whispering past your lips. “You have really big hands, you know.”

“My hands…” Kun places one on your chest, spreading his fingers across and touching your collarbone. The heel of his palm glides on the top of your breast, and just that touch is enough to get you more worked up. “Hmm. Actually, I’ll admit I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirks, and he’s possibly the finest thing you’ve ever seen. “What else, Y/N?”

“I thought about how you’d touch me.” His hand slides between your breasts now, down your sternum, and to your stomach. “Maybe I’d invite you into my apartment when Charlotte wasn’t there. We’d watch some stupid movie and pretend to be into it, but we’re really just thinking about each other. You’d eventually end up slipping your hand up my skirt...and making me cum all over your fingers.”

You aren’t sure how you’re saying all this to Kun right now, the dude you have a major crush on, without bursting into flames.

His shaft rubbing against your clit even through your layers of clothes makes you sigh dreamily, pressing your forehead to his and gripping at his shoulders and biceps. His bangs are soft against your forehead, and your breath stutters when he moves to kiss the side of your neck. He has to know how hard your heart is beating right now.

“And then what?” His voice is barely a whisper, then.

“And then you’d fuck me, of course.” There’s a slight laugh in your voice at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing your skin.

“And then I’d fuck you...hm,” he echoes. “Sure, I can do that.”

The promise of it entices you, and more heat pools between your legs, amplified by the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. His hand that’s still on your stomach travels under your shirt then, and your hips falter in your rhythm against him when his fingers brush across your nipple. He brings his lips to your other breast, lapping his tongue against your nipple over the fabric.

You soon come like this, his shaft grinding against your clit and his clothes rubbing against your skin, his hands on your ass and his lips traveling across your breasts. The orgasm is sudden and surprises you, but it’s good, and you convulse as the waves of pleasure course through you. You weaken and slump against him, with him still teasing your breasts with his mouth and hands. Pushing your face into his hair, you moan into the black strands until the quivering stops.

You’re breathless when you speak again. “You haven’t come yet.”

“I’d rather do that when I’m inside you,” he replies. You giggle quietly.

“...What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hold on.” Kun carefully maneuvers you off his lap, and you already want to complain at the lack of his touch. “I have to get a condom.”

“Hurry, or you’ll miss all the fun,” you say as you pull your shirt off with your back to him. You look back over your shoulder at him and grin mischievously.

“You’re such a tease…”

Kun goes into his room to fetch a condom, and when he returns he’s already pulling his shirt off, leaving it on the floor somewhere. You’re fully naked now, your legs pulled up to your chest and your chin resting on your knees as you sit on the couch. Kun’s eyes drop between your legs, your inner thighs still glistening from your previous orgasm, and he swipes his tongue across his lips at the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

Likewise, your eyes drop to the dark trail of hair leading into his pants and his bulge just below it, the way his sweatpants cling to his length, and your pussy throbs with the desire to be filled.

“Please, hurry.”

Kun doesn’t waste any time in getting the rest of his clothes off, shoving his pants and underwear done in one swift move and rolling the condom over his shaft. He climbs onto the couch, grabbing your legs and guiding them around his waist, and you giggle at his eager but gentle touch as you recline on the couch pillows behind you.

He grabs his dick and lines it up with you, then pushes it in slowly at first. The stretch makes your toes curl, but it is a good kind of stretch, the kind that fills you to the brim. Like the missing element you needed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice husky from the pleasure.

“Fuck, please,” is your answer as you shift your hips and try to get him all the way inside quicker. Noticing your urgency, he slides the rest of the way in until your hips are flush against each other and starts thrusting into you. His length dragging across your walls feels much better than you could’ve imagined on any given night, and you clasp your legs tighter around him to get ever closer.

After a point, he pushes your legs up with his hands behind your knees so he can get a deeper angle, and you both moan at the difference in sensation and how much tighter you get around him.

There is no ignoring the messy wet noises of your bodies colliding due to the slickness of your previous orgasm and the new wetness he’s continually fucking out of you. Each thrust reaches deep inside you, deep enough to make you nearly sob, your hands fumbling over your breasts and your clit all the while.

“Kun, god yes please,” you whimper, rocking your hips into the rhythm of his own. You fucking him back makes him groan deeply, his bangs hanging off his forehead as he dips his head to watch himself slide in and out of you. You could not control the urge or the motion of your body even if you wanted to; you want all of him, as close as he can get.

“I don’t want this to end,” he moans, and he pulls out without a warning. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, and your discontent comes out in a full whine. You’d be more embarrassed about it if you weren’t currently consumed with desire, but you presently do not care.

Kun sits back on the couch and pulls you on top of him again. “Ride me,” he says. So you grasp the base of his cock, him grunting as you do, and you press the tip against your entrance before pushing it in. He watches himself slip inside of you while fully enraptured, one hand tight on your hip.

Once you are full with him again, you experimentally grind against him to see how it’ll feel in this new position, and your arms tremble as his pelvis stimulates your clit.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, grasping the nape of your neck and kissing you hard once more, “fuck yourself on me.”

So you keep grinding your clit on him like that, your limbs shaking from the stimulation and your walls fluttering around his cock. You can barely catch a complete breath from him kissing you hard enough to make your lips swell, and your head is so fogged with lust that all you can concentrate on is getting yourself off just like he told you to do.

“Kun…” You roll your head onto his shoulder, pressing your forehead into his skin, your body tiring as you get closer to reaching that high. You’re so close to coming, but you’re not sure if you have enough strength left to get there on your own. Kun notices the state you’re in and grasps your hips to pull them into his, effortlessly sliding himself into you while making sure your clit gets stimulated at the same time.

The new friction of his dick rubbing against your g-spot in this position is enough to have you finally coming and crying out against his neck.

You continue babbling nonsense against his neck as he keeps fucking you, searching for his own end. His hands are hot on your body as he moves you up and down his length.

His climax comes soon after yours, his dick pulsing and his pace slowing. Your back arches at the sensation of him throbbing inside you and releasing his cum into the condom. The way he groans in your ear has your stomach clenching.

For a few minutes after, you both sit quietly and do nothing but cling to one another as you come down from the pleasure.

“So, does this mean we’re together now…?” Kun asks hopefully, running his hands over your back as you lie against him.

You smile against his skin. “Obviously. But if you still want to convince me, we can go a couple more rounds…”

#kun smut #kun fic #kun scenarios #kun imagines #nct fic #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv fic #wayv scenarios #wayv smut #wayv imagines #ambw scenarios #kpop ambw #ambw fic #ambw smut #ambw imagines #qian kun

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residentlesbrarian · 3 years

Text

Fandom and Fanfiction Galore

Ship It by Britta Lundin

Aaaaaalrighty...so this was written almost 3 years ago hot out of ClexaCon 2018 and it is...an interesting one. I had and still very much have feelings about this book. Would I write my thoughts the exact same way today as I did back then...probably not! So enjoy this bit of a pre-pandemic pre-a-whole-bunch-of-other-personal-stuff-y’all-don’t-need-to-know-about me talking about a book I still don’t really know how I feel about! Enjoy!

This was another book I found because of the Queering YA panel at ClexaCon 2018. Being able to talk to Britta at the booth after the panel was awesome, because you could tell talking with her that she was a true fan. She knew what being surrounded by fandom was like and it made me pretty excited to read the book.

Unicorn Rating:

Blurb: Living in the environment of fandom can be an insane experience in both good and bad ways. This book delivered a unique experience and look into fandom culture that was surreal to read about outside of fanfiction and tumblr.

Disclaimer: I will try my best to not spoil anything from the book, but my book loving rambles may give more away than a traditional review. Here we go! Ramble time!

Review:

I would say overall this book felt a little weird for me. I didn’t absolutely love it but I also didn’t particularly dislike it. It fell in a very ‘meh’ place for me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have good things to say about it, they are just slightly confusing things.

The plot was actually one of the things I liked the most about it. Even though it was a crazy unrealistic plot, it helped capture the absolute lunacy of being a member of fandom culture perfectly. Sometimes being a fan is a simple life of surfing Tumblr and liking posts but sometimes the craziest things happen and change your life forever. In this case the reader is swept up in this craziness with Claire and the unrealistic aspect of it all made it feel more realistic as counterintuitive as that sounds. That is what the fandom experience can feel like at times, everything makes so little sense it actually circles back around to making sense, but enough about that...time for some character rambles.

Now we have two perspectives explored in this book. That of Claire, the fangirl, and Forest, the actor who has never had to deal with fangirls before. Let’s start with Claire. I am of two minds on her. Part of me really doesn’t like her, mostly because she is a person that in real life I probably wouldn’t spend time around and, as I’ve stated in a previous review, I have a hard time separating myself from characters and remembering that they are only teenagers. Multiple times I actually physically facepalmed, while reading a hardback book! That isn’t easy to do, but I did it, because she was doing things that just seemed so illogical from my perspective. But I am an adult, so of course I have a completely different perspective than a teen who is away from home and feeling a little out of control for a plethora of reasons. Now the other part of me really liked her, strangely enough for those exact same reasons, she was so real that I went full ‘Mom’ mode and wanted to sit her down and have a talk about what she was going through before she did something she was going to regret. Even if I found the character to be unlikeable the fact I was still on her side and wanted to help her really shows the depth that was written into her.

Now moving on to Forest. Oh, Forest. He was a character that I was very intrigued by at first because his was a perspective I, as a fangirl myself, had never seen in a book before, but damn if he didn’t make it so hard to like him. Some of the things he said and did made me want to throttle him. I could excuse some of the stuff Clarie did because of her age and the craziness of everything going on around her, but Forest is an adult and should know better. He would improve and his actions would start to win me over, but then he would overreact to something and make me want to put on my throttlin’ gloves again. I felt like that Tyra Banks ‘I was rooting for you!’ reaction gif while I was reading this multiple times. Again, though, there were parts that I was glad Forest called Claire out on her actions when it was called for, but overall they both needed an intervention to have them sit down and just chill for five seconds.

I actually genuinely liked a majority of the side characters in this as well. I actually have less of the weird mental confusion when it comes to the side characters. Rico was cute and great around the fans. Jamie was a total asshat but he was written to be that way to foil Claire in her mission to make ‘Smokeheart’ cannon. One of my favorite scenes in the whole book was actually between Claire and the social media consultant, whose name I totally remember and am just choosing not to put in because I think that’ll be all avant garde...okay fine I forgot her name and I am not digging the book out to find it. Anyway...I can’t really go into detail about the scene because, you know, spoilers but it was so well done in the context of the story.

Now for the last big character I want to speak on, the love interest, Tess. Now I really liked Tess and even understood how she wanted to keep her nerdy hobbies a secret from her small town friends. I was lucky that I grew up in a family and a circle of friends that let me embrace my passions no matter how off-the-wall they may seem to others. Tess obviously didn’t have that kind of support but she was still so passionate just privately. I will say though, ironically given the title of the book, I don’t ship it. Tess and Claire definitely share an instant attraction and the chemistry is there but they have so much growing to do before they are anywhere close to having an actual healthy functional relationship. Maybe if we saw more of them it would feel more compelling but it just wasn’t for me.

So my final thoughts on this book are just...a little discombobulated. Part of me was really happy to read a book that portrayed a part of my life that is so hard to put into words at times. I have never been a rabid fangirl, but after Lexa’s death I had to try and explain my utter devastation to people who just didn’t understand why a fictional character mattered to me so much. This book captures at least a layer of the fandom experience in a way that I’ve never seen before. The problem I have in the end though is how problematic everything that happens was, and then the ending just felt so sudden. We didn’t see any of the characters address their issues on the page. I hope this review made some coherent sense, because this book still doesn’t really make sense even in my brain, but I need to wrap this up now.

Queer Wrap-up: Okay, so, for our rep we have a questioning main character who definitely has some queer tendencies, but overall her realizing her feelings took such a back seat to her mission to make a fictional ship cannon on a show that was already filmed it took away from the rep as a whole. It just felt like the focus was so split that the actual rep gets lost in the pages. There is no argument by the end of the book that Claire is queer, which earns the three unicorns on that alone, but some of the tropes that played parts in the book were just so cringey that I couldn’t rationalize giving it more than that. Even with a couple side characters who were revealed to also be queer they weren’t enough to cover for the less stellar parts of this book.

Links:

Britta Lundin’s Website

TheStorygraph

Amazon

Okay, so if you couldn’t tell by that train wreck of a review this book just confused me. It kept me just interested enough to pick it back up after I’d put it down, but also wasn’t that bad. It lives in a weird oxymoronic vortex in my brain that honestly gives me a headache if I focus on it too much. There were aspects of this book that I did genuinely like but it all gets swirled together with the parts that made me put it down and need to take a break. If any of you want to discuss those more spoiler-filled aspects please send an ask and I’ll welcome you into the cyclical nature of whatever this book is doing in my brain. And as always if you want to read this but don’t want to spend the money without knowing for sure you are going to like it, go to your local library. You’d be surprised what they have on their shelves just waiting to be discovered. Trust me, I’m a lesbrarian.

#ship it #britta lundin #queer girl #ya fiction #resident lesbrarian #this whole thing is a bit of a time capsule #i wrote this soooo long ago #man weird #still agree with it though

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zevlors-tail · 4 years

Note

I’m glad you at least got lunch! Maybe try eating again if it’s not too hard? And I understand that family can suck sometimes, maybe straight up try telling them some stuff to clear things up a bit at first! Like set boundaries? Other than that, I do hope Thanksgiving isn’t a bust for you. Only eat as much as you’re comfortable with, but remember your definition of a lot is kind of a mind trick, so try to eat a bit more if you can. Overall, you’re very valid, and you deserve to have a good week

LIFE UPDATE

First of all, thank you for this whole thing, it’s very sweet and caring of you. I really appreciate people taking the time to reach out and make sure I’m okay and telling me to have a good week. <3 That means a lot to me that you guys do that.

Second, I’m just gonna make this my life update post since it kind of ties into everything I’m about to spill so uh.

TW: Eating Disorder and Covid mentioned under the cut in case anyone wants to scroll past or doesn’t want to read, which I understand. But here’s a lengthy life update that no one asked for.

TLDR: I’m moving soon, going on a mini hiatus, have been exposed to Covid, and generally not well but surviving.

I’ve been on an upswing today, so I’ll try to get this out rationally and coherently while I can. If you don’t know by now or you’ve somehow (luckily and miraculously) managed to not catch any of my stupid vent posts, hello! I’m Sweater, I’m 23, and I run this blog! I also have an eating disorder that I am actively trying to battle, and at this point I am in what I would call a full scale relapse for me.

Holidays this time of year (or any time really) are especially hard for me since food is a big factor in them. Without getting too much into specifics, restriction of food is common for me and often it just doesn’t feel or taste right. Eating can make me feel nauseous, disgusting, and ashamed, while not eating causes the exact same effect, except with the added point of apathy. Mostly this is an addiction that I have been fighting on and off since high school (a little over 5 years), but for me it’s also about punishment and control, and so when things get chaotic in my life, I tend to relapse habitually, sometimes without even realizing it. This can happen when I’m extremely stressed, when I feel out of control over my life, or just forget to take care of myself in general, whether that’s working through my lunches and breaks or sleeping too much or too little through meal times.

Right now, my life is really hectic. Covid has really upended everything for me, made me question my sexuality, my gender, and pretty much my entire identity. If you haven’t caught on by now, I’m also married, and this was a very recent thing that happened just this year in July. Unfortunately, things have not worked out, and since I’ve changed a lot as a person, my current living situation and relationship are on the line, and I’m having to go through the stress of figuring out divorce and an apartment in the middle of a pandemic.

This is definitely not where I saw myself in just a year. I’m actively pursuing therapy, I’ve just gotten my own car, and I’m on track to get better, but things aren’t that simple and it’s really just taking a toll on me both physically and mentally. I was not looking forward to Thanksgiving and eating in front of people this year anyways, but now I definitely can’t go since there are people in my specific department at work who have Covid. We just found out today that someone who I was in close contact with all the time has it, and so I’ve been exposed for a second time. Because of this I’m not attending my family’s dinner, so I don’t have to worry about food anymore, but I do have to worry about whether I have Covid or not.

I am under a tremendous amount of stress. I have about a month of crunch time to get a new license plate and title for my car, find an apartment that I can afford that allows pets, get a divorce, and start therapy (hopefully). My family has been unsupportive for the most part and mostly just frustrated that I don’t want to stay with my spouse. But I have to say, I think the most frustrating thing in all of this is the ED and the symptoms that come with it. I mentioned above that I feel apathetic when I don’t eat. That gets in the way of me doing other every day things like work, being active at home, writing, taking care of myself, and giving attention to others. I lose motivation at work, I can’t focus on anything (my brain often feels foggy and hazy and it’s hard to remember anything; it all blurs together for days, weeks, sometimes even months), and I just feel drained and exhausted 24/7. So I feel stressed, yes, but I also don’t care about it and I do care about it at the same time.

I have okay days, and that almost makes it worse, because on days I do eat I end up with huge mood swings right after having been apathetic, and honestly it’s like giving myself emotional whiplash. One minute I’m having intrusive thoughts about how i’m certain negative words and phrases, the next I feel nothing at all and can hardly bring myself to walk around (often it’s a feeling of “what’s the point in existing?”), and then after I eat something I feel high in a sense, or lethargically warm and upbeat at the same time. It’s exhausting, really. To feel everything awful all at once, and then go from feeling absolutely nothing at all to the most upbeat positive things ever. It’s almost like false hope, if that makes sense? When I eat something and feel better, it’s easy to tell myself that things will be okay, that the ED isn’t real anyway, that I don’t have a problem and that I can feel normal. And if there is one, I’ll be fine, I don’t need help, etc.

I’m dealing with all of that combined into one giant mess that is my life right now. That being said, this blog is my escape. I’ve met a lot of cool people here, gotten to know some really lovely friends, and I’ve written really cool things that people seem to really enjoy. I want to continue to write, but that requires focus and time, both of which my ED is actively taking from me. I’m doing my best to be here as much as I can and I will still continue to work on requests and writing, because it’s a way for me to cope and escape. But I do need to acknowledge that my life is out of control and I need to do something about it.

I’m doing my best to stabilize myself and work on things. I think a mini hiatus at some point in December will be inevitable, however, especially considering there will be a point in time where I will not have access to an internet router/the internet for my laptop to write. So I’m not sure when exactly, but it’ll probably be towards the end of December.

Anyways, this is not a post asking for pity or attention, just a post for me to process some things and give a life update. You are in no way obligated to respond to this or to comment on this unless you really feel the need to. I just wanted to be open and honest about where I was and what was going on with me. I understand if you don’t want to follow me after this or if you just want to scroll past.

Just know that I’m working on myself, I’m trying really hard, and it’s really difficult for me sometimes to get a grip on my writing and my own sense of self because of this. If anyone needs anything I’m usually always here! But again, all of this is the reason I don’t always respond to messages. It’s nothing you’ve done or said, I just literally can’t remember that I was having a conversation sometimes, or I can’t focus enough to type out a reply, or I’m sleeping through the day or just dissociating and feeling apathetic. But I love you all, and I’m thankful for your support, and I want to be better.

Much love and care,

-Sweater <3

#life update #sweater rambles #sweater rambles A LOT #tw: ed #tw: eating disorder #tw ed #tw eating disorder #eating disorder #tw covid

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theastrophilearchitect · 4 years

Text

I started writing a book.

And I’m mad about it, because I just started this post, brought up a new tab and lost it because I didn’t save my draft.

Anyway. That’s a thing I did. Wow.

As of this moment, this post won’t be going up until April 19th, but I’m starting writing this at 10.30pm on Sunday, February 21st, 2021. I’ve done a lot in the last couple weeks, and I want to have some record of all I’ve accomplished without just letting most of it fade over the next two months.

I’ve always wanted to be an author. From when I was reading under my covers with a torch past bedtime, through the years I wanted to be an artist, through the years I wanted to be a lawyer. It’s always been there - no matter what primary career path I went down, I wanted to be an author. The last few years, I’ve been invested in becoming a biologist, and that dream really took a backseat.

In the start of this lockdown, my mental health went downhill, and some advice my therapist gave me was just to prioritise myself. It sounds simple enough, but, even in my free time, I’d been focusing on schoolwork - revising constantly for exams I’m still not sure are actually happening. (Boris Johnson is apparently making an announcement tomorrow about beginning to ease lockdown, but we’ll see) So, on Saturday, February 6th, I started an attempt to coalesce the ideas I had floating in my head into something tangible.

I’ve tried to write books countless times (not technically countless - I have all the documents on my laptop, so I could if I wanted to), but mostly, I’ve never gotten further than a couple bare plot points and some characters, maybe some ideas for subplots, before I’ve stagnated and given up.

Three times, I’ve finished a skeletal outline. Twice, I’ve started to go back over those outlines only to realise they made no sense or just seemed week, and simply not cared enough to fix it. Until now, I guess.

February 6th, 7th, and fast-forward to my week off beginning the 15th, up until the 19th, I kept developing this concept I’d managed to form, but I was struggling to establish a coherent plot. I had up until and including a midpoint (which was later condensed into just a first act), but everything after that was just a void. I began searching for some skeletal structure I could apply to it, both to work on pacing and fill in the blanks. I tried several, and got a little further, but was about to give up hope.

Then I remembered a video by Katytastic I’d watched years ago about the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter structure she used, and couldn’t see the harm in giving it a go. And something clicked.

You can find the video here - the structure’s detailed and easy to follow, plus she even gives an example of using it to generate a plot.

I started binge-watching her writing vlogs in the background, and even started using her same writing program, Scrivener, which just made every a thousand times easier by taking away the need to juggle a billion Word documents. It’s fairly pricey, but I’m currently using the 30-day free trial - it’s 30 days of use, not of ownership, too: if you use it every day, it lasts 30 days, but if you use it once a week, it lasts 30 weeks.

Where Kat used the 27 parts the structure broke down into as chapters, I chose to refer to them as beats, and separate chapters later.

On Saturday the 20th, I finished defining my scenes and started writing an actual draft. I wrote two scenes, putting me at a collective word count (not including notes, synopses, etc.) of 2,580 words.

This morning, Sunday the 21st, I started over. I hated my opening. I’m not going to go through the mess of today’s process, but I currently have around 80 one-line-outline scenes, split into 3 acts. I wrote a draft of my prologue and detailed-outlined (which I’m mentally referring to as zero-outlining because it’s similar to how Katytastic does what she calls a zero draft, but is very much outlining, not a draft) two and a half other chapters. Scriver also tells me how many words I wrote in total, across notes, character profiles, location lists, a document I’ve named ‘Train of Thought’ for my ramblings as I go etc.

Today, I wrote a grand total of 4,141 words, which, rather counterintuitively, puts me at a draft total of 2,598. That makes sense. Anyway.

There are a lot of unknowns in the world right now, and I have no idea how much time I’ll have in the next six months to invest in this project, but I’d like, at bare minimum, to have one complete draft by the start of the next school year in September, which gives me just over 6 months. Which is probably too much time to actually motivate myself, but that’s not the point.

A manuscript needs to have a minimum word count of 50K words to be considered a novel, so, even though my ultimate goal for this project is around 80K words, 50K is going to be my goal for this draft.

I’m being optimistic about sticking with this.

Tuesday 23/02/2021 - Word Count: 3,099 I wrote nothing yesterday; planning to focus writing solely on days off rather than work days, but last night, watching through the incredibly long queue of Alexa Donne writing videos, I came to the conclusion writing every day, even just a little, would be the best way to ensure I keep working on this, so I set myself a goal of just 500 words a day.

Wednesday 24/02/2021 - Word Count: 5,350 After doing a little bit of maths as to how long this outlining and draft would take me if I were to only write 500 words a day, I decided to boost that goal to 1,000. I got started around 1pm today, online school draining me so much I couldn’t face another two hours. I worked on and off until 6pm, and around 4.45pm, I finished outlining Act One!

Thursday 25/02/2021 - Word Count: 7,022 I continued my scene outlining into Act Two, but I hit a brick wall around the midpoint. I have to write chronologically - some people jump around, but I have to write linearly, or it feels like I’m trying to make something in a void. It just doesn’t work. I didn’t know how to get from one scene to the next - there were so many things I needed to establish to get there, but I didn’t want to backtrack. I decided to re-jig the whole thing, but, after dinner, I realised I didn’t have to, and instead, decided to just start a draft, conscious of the things I need to establish as I go.

Friday 26/02/2021 - Word Count: 8,208 Starting draft one, I rewrote the prologue I’d already written, technically putting me to my second draft of it, because I’d been thinking about it for days and just wanted to revisit it, and it was so much better. Then I moved on to chapter one, but decided I wanted to re-jig my chapters. While outlining, I’d split the whole book into only about twenty chapters, but decided to go for shorter ones for more effective divisions of the story. I got most of the way through the first scene of chapter one, but basically ran out of both time and motivation, since I hadn’t heavily outlined that scene. in total, I wrote over 2000 words today, but because I only increased the prologue word count by about 100 words, it didn’t do that much to the total count.

Saturday 27/02/2021 - Word Count: 11,050 I got some chores done Saturday morning and focused on finishing my book so I could include it in my February wrap-up, but I still had time to get some writing done around mid-day. My goal was just to hit 10K this weekend, but I though I could do it in one day. I wrote about 1,000 words before feeling a little word-drained, but took a break for lunch, got back to it and wrote 2,400 words. Though that only added a little over 2,000 to the word count, it took me to 10K! I’m 20% of the way to being able to call it a novel! We’re in quintuple digits!

And then eight hours later, I wrote another thousand words and got to 11K.

Sunday 28/02/2021 - Word Count: 13,722 I spent most of my Sunday morning writing, though it took me more than two hours to write about 1500 words, though it only added about 1100 to my count. I decided to set myself an overall and weekly deadlines to hold myself accountable. Due to the fact I don’t yet have a clue how many words this will work out as, I decided I wanted to have either a complete first draft or 100K words (which I doubt I’ll reach, but it seems like a good way to make myself finish the draft before my deadline) by the end of April. Which works out to a little under 1500 words a day, or just under 11K a week, which is perfectly doable. Bearing in mind my current word count is including outlines, but I still believe in myself.

I wrote another 1600 words later, which took me to 14K, until I deleted the 300 word outline I wrote for one scene, but I worked out my words per day for the next two months with the assumption of a 10K word count as of March 1st and a target of either a complete draft or 100K words by the end of April, so I’m nearly 4,000 words ahead of schedule. Which gives me 6,606 words to write this week, instead of 10,328. (If you couldn’t tell, I like numbers. They just make sense to me.

Monday 01/03/2021 - Word Count: 15,005 I didn’t quite hit my daily goal, but I was completely leached of motivation today, I’m ahead of schedule anyway and I was only under by less than 200 words. It’s alright. But, hey, we hit 15K! Two days after hitting 10K!

Tuesday 02/03/2021 - Word Count: 21,119 This was an insane writing day. My end-of-day target was only 16,480, and that was still ahead of schedule - if I was sticking to the 100K by April 30th, I’d only actually need to be at 12,950 today. This was the best writing day I’ve ever had. I wrote before school and during breaks, which kept both my writing and working momentum up.

I didn’t read a page of my current read, but I wrote a total of 7,681 words and increased my wordcount by 6,114 words, or literally an additional 40.75%. I hit 20K three days after hitting 10K, and am 42.238% of the way to being able to say I wrote a novel, be it a shitty first draft that won’t be complete at 50K words.

I also finished chapter three, which I’ve been working on for three days and came out ~5,000 words, and wrote chapters four and five in their entirety.

Note to self: this is day 10 of vaguely outline-drafting this project.

Wednesday 03/03/2021 - Word Count: 23,364 I've only written 490 words today, as of writing this update, but I just wanted to make note of the fact I've done some calculations, and can reasonably finish my draft this month. I'm still not completely sure how long it'll work out to be, so I can't quite work out my daily words to finish on the 31st, but if I stick to my current 1,475 words a day, I'll hit 63,894 words by the end of the month, which is a little less than I imagine this draft will be, but if I stick to that as a minimum, my first draft won't have to go into April.

I'd like to post this later this week, but I already have a post for this Friday, so God only knows how long this will be by the time it goes up. So far, I've written 1,900 words today, and I don't think I'm out of fuel yet, but I'm stopping because I need to read today, and I'd rather not burn out. I'm over my goal, anyway.

Oh, also, I'm nearly at 25K, which is halfway to a novel, but I haven't broken into Act Two yet, which means this book will be 75K minimum. I'm going to do some maths and work out how many words a day to hit 80K by March 31st. 2,030. That's doable. So I haven't read, but back to writing for like ten minutes.

I've now hit an additional 2,245 words for the day, though I wrote a total of 2,663

Thursday 04/03/2021 - Word Count: 25,415 I've decided to work out how many words I need to write each day to hit 80K by March 31st, and watch the fluctuations. (I like statistics). It should steadily go down throughout the month if I surpass it each day. Today's minimum word count is 2,023, already seven words less than yesterday's. How exciting.

The last scene of Act One was very heavy on world-building I haven't yet figured out, so I stuck what was meant to happen in brackets and just moved on, meaning I have now broken into Act Two!

I think, during the week, I'm going to focus on just meeting my minimum word count rather than exceeding it, just to save fuel for the weekends, when I can write so many more words.

And, we hit 25K! I'm halfway to a novel!

Friday 05/03/2021 - Word Count: 26,693 In complete honesty, I'm beginning to lose momentum. Maybe it's just today, but I don't really want to write and feel like I need a break, but I'm going to make myself write anyway. I'm going to make myself keep writing until this draft is done, however shitty it may end up. I really hate first drafts.

When you say 2,000 words is only 7-8 pages, it doesn't sound like that much to write per day but my god. Luckily, most of the stuff I've had to save to a Pinterest board called 'Writing Motivation' says if you write when you don't want to, it should pass instead of worsening. I wanted to hit 35K this weekend, but I'm not sure I'll have the momentum. I'll at least hit 31,270, though, which is my minimum goal for this week. I'm still over 700 words off my goal for today, but I'm taking a break because my head is foggy and there's still eight hours left in the day. Besides, 700 after dinner is easy. She says, realising she's probably jinxing it. Oh, well. 80K by March 31st would be difficult, even if I weren't going back to school soon, but that's a stretch goal. 100K by April 31st is my minimum, and I'm 9,000 ahead of where I need to be for that.

I think I’m stagnating because I’ve hit the ‘Fun and Games’ section, which I find really boring. I’m going to try to keep going with it, but I may just skip it and come back later.

Saturday 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 So, I did not get the extra 700 words in. Before dinner, some stuff I had to deal with came up, and by the time it was done, I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Today, I'm going to try to make up for it, which I think is reasonable because it is now the weekend. I'm still kinda exhausted this morning, but I'm going to do my best, and my wrist hurts, but I'm not sure why. You'd think it would be from all the typing, but only one wrist hurts - you know what? Never mind. They do both hurt. I'm just not sure why, but it doesn't hurt typing this, so that doesn't make any sense. Anyway, to hit my word count for the day, I need to write 2,555 words, which doesn't sound like too much, but it kinda is because I'm primarily writing Act Two at the minute, and for every thousand words I write, I lose like 400 from my outline. You'd think I'd just not include my scene outlines in the word count, but it's too late for that now.

I'm thinking this over, and I really don't think trying to write 80K by the end of the month is going to be good for either my motivation, mental health, or ability to function back at school, so I'm going to stick to 100K or a finished draft by April 30th, and re-work out my goals from there, based on yesterday's word count, so I'm not making myself do catch-up today.

So, to hit 100K by April 30th, I only need to write 1,309 words each day (which will decrease over time because if that's my minimum now, I'll probably surpass it, decreasing the amount of words left etc.). That's so much less pressure.

God, I really don't want to write today. I just want to watch YouTube and Netflix and read.

Okay, so here's the thing. I've been working on this story straight for three weeks and I'm kinda exhausted of it. I'm not done with it, not at all, and I want to keep working on it because it exists, which makes it workable.

I watched a writing vlog by ShaelinWrites yesterday, and she said she writes different projects at once, alternating in week- or multi-week-long blocks. I think I might try that.

My plan with this post and the following updates was to keep updating it until the day it goes up, the day after which is when I begin drafting the next, but, since I may be switching projects for a while and this is really about the project I've decided to dub 'Bay Tree' (which is just, I guess, a pseudonym for here because while I have no idea what it would eventually be called, I know that's nothing like the title I'd want to give it) so I'd want to start a new post for a new project.

I'm now doing a little outlining instead of actually continuing writing, but I think this will help me, though I'm still not certain about whether or not I'm going to directly continue with this specific project for the minute. Instead of setting daily goals based on a target, I'm also just going to say 1,000 words a day, and see where that takes me.

I've just been outlining into Act Three, and I've met a major plot stumble, but I'm going to work that out and explain what I'm doing in my next writing update.

So, go drink some water, eat if you haven't eaten in the last few hours, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself how wonderful you are and how much happiness you deserve, and, if you want to write a book, stop thinking about it, and go write.

#blog #blogging #blogger #blogpost #blog post #writing #books #book #reading #read #write #writer #author #draft #first draft #story #writing blog #writerblr #bookblr #novel #debut

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disaster-fruit · 4 years

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and I know it's unfair because I haven't answered the ask yet but you're Brazilian so you know way more than me but I'd love to hear your thoughts about Imperial Brazil?? I'm really struggling with him bc i know about him in this era more from a portuguese perspective.....

YOU THOUGHT I WOULDN’T ANSWER THIS HUH

Sorry for taking so damn long audshdf I was saving this ask to do a real deep dive into the whole empire with a lot of historical explanation and a lot of detail buuuut I was having some trouble coherently organizing my thoughts about Pedro II’s reign so instead I’m gonna use this ask to more loosely talk abt the first half of the empire. You’ve seen my basic thoughts on the second half on that other post, so now I’m gonna ramble mostly about 1808-1840.

Also, hm, this is LONG. It’s embarrassingly long. I hope you have time.

And yes 1808-1822 is not part of the empire, but Brazil was no longer a colony in practice during those years, and I think they were crucial to his development as a person.

Before 1808, Brazil pretty much grew up alone. His mother was around less and less, and he had no friends. Portugal was, as we already know, a shitty dad. Up to that point, he was not only absent but also very controlling. He never allowed Brazil or his people to learn how to read, Brazil wasn’t allowed to have libraries or universities or newspapers or even print. Portugal alienated Brazil both from his mother and from Port himself. He was forcefully kept from developing his own ideas, and his growth was stagnant – even physically. The way I see it, after 300 years he was still a small child, while the others around him were already growing into teenagers even though they were younger in actual numbers. Portugal literally kept him from developing as a person, by force.

But suddenly, Portugal needed him. Suddenly, he showed up at his shore, with hundreds of people, and objects, and books. And though Portugal desperately needed Brazil at that time, his king couldn’t be there with Brazil being like that. That land with no cities and no libraries and no economy no nothing because he was forced to have nothing.

He starts growing really, really fast, and forcefully again. And it was a painful process – his people were being kicked out of their houses so that the people that arrived from Portugal had where to live. In a few years, he grew almost as fast as humans did. But it was still an incomplete growth – most of his people were still living in misery, but now he had a structured state that allowed him to more firmly fit into what a nation means. But it all happened so fast he was… dizzy.

And that was all combined with what was happening in his relationship with his father. They had both gotten much closer now that Portugal was physically there more often. I think Portugal is considerably less shitty to Brazil during these years, both because he needs him and because he is a relief from everything going on in Europe. But that doesn’t mean he became a good dad, but also Brazil was a lot smarter now, a lot freer, and quick to realize something that had always been true – Portugal needed Brazil more than Brazil needed Portugal. Much more.

The fact that he wasn’t a colony anymore but wasn’t quite independent, and thus still had to obey Portugal to some degree, started to annoy him. This has quite a bit of teenage rebellion element into it, but that doesn’t mean it came from unjustified anger. Not at all. His pride and ego were starting to really develop. The king of Portugal liked him better than he liked port himself, Brazil was heaven on earth, Brazil was rich, Brazil was full of potential, Brazil was great, Brazil was paradise, Brazil was not his own.

And that just keeps building.

And when Portugal starts talking about making him a colony again. After all that shit about the being a united kingdom, about Portugal being his father and trying to get close to him, of seeing him as a refuge and a relief, after all of that connection I think Portugal genuinely tried to build with him, the ugly truth is bare again – Portugal never saw him as worthy of equal footing, never saw that united kingdom as anything but temporary, never saw brazil as anything more than a colony.

And Brazil is mad.

When he found out the plans of Pedro I to declare independence, he’s more than happy. He’s been thinking of it for a while, and I think maybe deep down he didn’t love the idea of another Portuguese man being his boss, but Pedro had grown up in brazil, dude was carioca at heart, his wife was wonderful, Brazil could work with that. He declared independence, fought against Portugal, won, still had to pay for his independence, but, at last, he got it.

I think in a way Brazil’s anger, as righteous as it was, did blind him to what was going on. He wanted so bad to get rid of Portugal and avoid going back to how it was when he was a colony, that he waved away or even approved things that really just kept him stuck in the same place. Very little actually changed for most people, and as someone who literally represented all the people, he knew that and could feel that, but he was still so euphoric personally about it that he… ignored it.

Pedro I’s reign was… messy. He needed a constitution, he got into a war with Argentina, everyone was talking about who Pedro was fucking, it was just a whole mess. For that reason, I think despite declaring his independence, brazil remembers Pedro as being mostly an irresponsible asshole who couldn’t keep it in his pants and was too busy being a playboy to rule this country yet still managed to be authoritarian and also made him lose Uruguay. And when it came time for him to choose Brazil or Portugal, just like his father, he chooses Portugal.

That was a blow on his ego. Brazil at this point was still just a teenager, who had in two decades grown insanely fast for a nation, has been told by each king his land was heaven on earth and so much richer than Portugal, yet no one was willing to choose him. Ever. He was still an afterthought. Like a colony, that still had a metropolis. Pedro left him with a 4-year-old, with a government disorganized, and no money.

And then the Provinces start to rise up.

So, hm, a quick background on how I see the provinces: Some of them existed since around 1530, some were younger and some weren't around yet, and if Brazil first appeared representing the people that were born in this new colony, the provinces were much more… administrative and political. Yet many of the ones that were around grew much faster than Brazil – they were already teenagers or even adults by independence. They had always responded directly to Portugal and for a long time saw no connection between themselves or between them and Brazil. The idea of “Brazil” was only like… 100 years old, even less than that. And some of them were not loving being attached to those two kids – Brazil and the baby emperor. They saw the weak government of the regency as a chance to rise up and declare their own independence, as many who started as provinces around them had – like Uruguay.

The regency lasted 9 years, but I think those few years were also crucial to form Brazil as a person, due to how stressful they were. Think about it, he saw what was happening around him, with Spain’s former colonies. And I think he for the first time had to grapple with the very human existential fear of death.

If each of his provinces became their own country, would he still be around? Would he just become… Rio? But Rio existed as a province too. Would he just… be a lot of different countries? Probably not. He would probably disappear. He had only just started to be allowed to live, but that could be taken away at any moment. Uruguay and Rio Grande do Sul succeeded in getting their independence. How long until the others? It was quite terrifying. And I think that experience not only made him averse to the idea of being a republic in general at the time, but also created a lot of emotional and psychological problems for him, a lot of insecurity, as well as it made him realize he was nothing. There was nothing to justify his existence. He couldn’t say he existed because he wanted freedom or republic, he had none of these, plus it was something the provinces too could have. What united that land? What made him him? Those were all questions that would haunt him for the rest of the empire, and he would soon be more than willing to go after and accept easy answers. That’s how he gets to that whole indianismo think I talked about some time ago.

He fights his own provinces, on people, countless times. Revolts that really were like civil wars kept popping, and he, who was just a teenager, had to fight to oppress his provinces and force them into being a part of him, for a reason he himself didn’t know. He couldn’t explain why they should be a part of him, except that they were and he wanted them to be and he wanted to live. And he didn’t know why.

In summary, this whole period was one of fear, and insecurity, and doubt. It shook him profoundly as a person more than as a country. Because once Pedrinho was in power, things were quick to stabilize and it was, in some ways, as if those revolts had never happened, but Brazil remembered them, he lived through them, and never really forgot that fear.

If the regency was marked by external peace and internal turmoil, Pedrinho’s reign was one of relatively internal peace and external turmoil. Pedro II was… a complicated figure. Most Brazilians today regard him as an excellent ruler and a wise man, but I at least can’t be this optimistic about the man who insisted on the Paraguayan war, refused to abolish slavery for decades, and basically laid ground to a lot of the problems we still have today, like bad distribution of land and late industrialization. He didn’t do all that by himself, of course, a lot can be blamed on the senate, but he was the most powerful man on the country, and he receives way too much credit for his personal beliefs of being an abolitionist and a pacifist. Maybe he really was both these things, but that doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t use his power to end slavery and avoid war, quite the opposite. And why is that important here? Because I think brazil, the tan, was also fooled by it. He quickly bought into the narrative that Pedro II was this wise incredible man, and overlooked all the ways he kept the worst structures of the country untouched in order to not upset the elite that kept him in power. Brazil wanted nothing but stability and power, and Pedro, looking like the opposite of his father at the surface, brought that. There were no more separatist movements or civil wars once he rose to power, Rio Grande do Sul was reabsorbed, and the years that followed were ones of relative prosperity, and all of that really made brazil more and more attached to the whole concept of the empire. I think just like he was willing to ignore a lot of things during independence for the sake of it, here too he ignored all the ways Pedro II held him back so that he could fully feel the pride of being a powerful empire.

Brazil really did like being an empire during that time. The narrative of the empire was one that answered the question that haunted him for so long – what justified his existence. Justifying it, in the 19th century, is what I believe to be the main motivation underlying everything he did and thought. And the narrative was that the empire guaranteed stability and avoided civil wars and fragmentation, allowing Brazil to be, to quote José Bonifacio, “This majestic and solid piece of social architecture from the Prata to the Amazonas”, and again, all that in comparison to his neighbors that were constantly drowning in civil wars and fragmenting. For stability and that justification, he was willing to turn a blind eye to anything else.

So he rose from the regency feeling stronger than ever. Pedrinho had put everything into place, he was growing, he had a Brazilian in power for the first time, his coffee was going well, and he had survived. Many of his neighbors hadn’t, or at least not in the sense of managing to keep their territories intact. He did. His neighbors were unstable, with wars and coups and wars (like he hadn’t just had exactly that), he was stable and growing and he was the strongest. Once free of the fear of being destroyed from the inside, his ego grew once again, and he felt good. He felt pride in being a big strong and centralized empire, and to look down on the other Latin Americans and even on his father. He was ready now to make his power and influence spread, as an Empire.

That's it, sorry if this is both ridiculously long and also a mess, I have way too many thoughts about imperial brazil and I could've probably written ten more pages of it and still have something to say. Also I'd still love to hear your thoughts on the empire for a Portuguese perspective, because I genuinely have no clue what that would look like. But anyway hmm I hope this was fun?

#ask #sorry this is so goddamn long but come on yall know me at this point i cant and wont shut up #long post #hcs

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a-sweet-violent-urge · 5 years

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Michael Jackson

Yeah, I know, I know what state the world is in right now but trust me, this post has been a long time coming. I just never got around to write it. And I’m sitting down to do it now because I’ve been locked at home for a week so I guess it’s now or never.

One look at my blog will tell you that I very rarely post personal stuff on here. I just reblog things and sometimes express opinions about my fav shows but that’s it. But I’m gonna get personal now.

I guess now’s the time to point out that I’m also not the most eloquent person around so to anyone reading, this might seem a bit all over the place, you’ve been warned.

The last few months have been really hard for me and my family. My father died last December. I still can’t wrap my head around it. I was used to not having him around at home, he was always working, you know, to bring money home, and now.. I ... I think of him as not home, not gone. Don’t know if that makes sense. You’re probably wondering what does this have to do with Michael Jackson? I’ll get to that, be patient with me.

Anyone who really knows me, and to be honest this is not a lot of people, I’m introverted, knows that listening to music is how I deal with things. I remember being a senior in high school, we were doing a speaking exercise in my English class, and my teacher asked us what influenced us the most in life, like, what helped shape our view on life and the world. When it was my turn to answer, I said that it was music and the artists I listened to. The rest of the group (I’m saying group not class for a reason, but I don’t want to go into that much detail) probably thought it was weird, they talked about their friends and family. But this was the truth for me. It still is. The music I listen to (along with the books I read) is what has influenced me the most in life, it’s what made me the person I am today. This is the reason why I’ve always hated talking about music, my favorite music has always been something very personal to me. I’ve always hated the question who’s your favorite artist. People would think it’s an easy one to answer but it’s not, not to me

This is where I start to talk about Michael. He was one of those artists (who influenced me) but I only realize that now, in retrospect. Actually, around the time I answered that question, the artists I meant were 30STM, or Linkin Park, MCR or whatever the hell I listened to back then.

I think the first time I listened to MJ intentionally was sadly after he died. I was born in September 1994, so I was not 15 yet. Up until that point, MJ was just a name in my head. I knew he was a singer, I knew what he looked like (’cause who didn’t or doesn’t), I know what he was very famous (though I had no idea why), I had heard songs, of course, though I didn’t really realize they were MJ songs. And despite all of that, me not knowing basically anything about him, I remember how hard his death hit me. I don’t know why. I felt like my fav artist had died, I felt like I had lost someone. To this day I can’t explain to myself why. I remember in what room I was when I heard the news. I watched the memorial and cried my eyes out.

After that, I decided to listen to his music. I listened to a lot of it and for a month or two, (or probably more, I don’t really remember) I listened mostly to him. I learnt more and more things about him. Like, about his philanthropic work, about the allegations (I’ll talk about that later), actually I remember being like 10 and watching the trial being covered on the news here. Songs like The way you make me feel, Dirty Diana, Give into me quickly became my favorites. But I remember the first times I heard Man in the Mirror, Earth song, Heal the Word, We are the World. And especially Man in the Mirror. The lyrics If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make a change had become like my motto in life and I didn’t even realise it until the past few months. I realized that often when I had to make a choice about something, those lyrics would pop up in my head. When I saw or read something about the environmental problems that we’re facing, Earth song ended up popping in my head. Yeah, MJ had helped shape my view on certain things and I didn’t even know then.

After my 2009 MJ phase, I hardly ever listened to him. I would listen to some songs from time to time when the mood struck me, but that was it.

Fast forward to October/November 2019. I was on YT and I ended up listening to some MJ songs., it was one of those times when the mood struck me, and I was going through the comment section (as I always do) while listening, and I noticed people commenting about .. a certain documentary. I don’t even want to say its name. So I was like what the fuck has happened and I looked it up. My initial reaction was seriously, this again?

Ok, I’ll go back to 2009 for a bit. When I got into MJ 11 years ago, as I mentioned earlier, I read about the allegations, I remembered even seeing it on the news as I said. But he was found not guilty. It was good enough for me. I didn’t think much about it. I didn’t care much about it. Plus he had just died. Nobody had one bad word to say about him. Ironic, huh? Also, I couldn’t do research even if I wanted to. I was young, I didn’t really speak English that well, and honestly, in the last few months I realized that when it comes to Michael Jackson, the truth is buried under so many false stories and dare I say, blatant lies, that you need an excavator to dig it out. I’m putting this in bold, in case a none MJ fan reads this, if you want to find the truth, know what you’re getting yourself into. Anyway, I couldn’t even fully appreciate some songs, because you need context to fully understand them, and I didn’t have that context then.

Fast forward to 2019 again. So I found out about you-know-what and I started reading about it and watching videos, educating myself on the matter. In other words, I had gone down the rabbit hole. But it was not just that what sparked my interest in Michael. I noticed something. Something many people were writing in the comment section of different. Michael was an angel. Michael is/was love. What would have Michael done (about whatever) if he was alive? I was like what?! Look, I have spend my life fangirling over different celebrities and I had never seen people saying things like that. And this was the moment, I asked myself the question, why was this person so famous and so loved by so many people from all over the world? Why HIM? Yes, he was immensely talented but that applies to a lot of artists. So why Michael? Now I know why. If you’re a fan reading this, you know why, too. If you’re not, go figure it out on your own.

It’s funny how a movie filled with not even clever lies, made so Michael’s name could one more time be run through the dirt, made me his fan (ugh, I hate that word, I almost feel like it has a negative connotation nowadays). Made me more than just a fan. If you remember, I started this post by saying that my father passed away in December. It all happened very fast, in less then 3 months, he wasn’t sick and then he was, and then, before we even knew it, he was gone. I was in the room when he died. So you see in what period of my life Michael’s music entered my life again. In a period when I needed a little light, something to keep the faith. In those months (and even now, more than 3 months later) Michael’s art was my lifeline. Keep the faith, Gone too soon, Had enough, Will you be there, Little Susie and so on.

Here are some lyrics that really hit me hard

The feeling of terror she felt as a youth Has turned from a fantasy into the truth (Scared of the moon)

I drowned my pain in his music. His love, his kindness and generosity reminded me of my purpose in life. I won’t go into details about what I experienced because this already got more personal than I’m comfortable with. Plus, my vocabulary is not good enough to do it justice. I’ll finish with this. I’m in complete awe of him and the things he did. Like, yesterday I found out he made a song about sign language. Seeing voices.

So, that’s my MJ story. I hope it’s comprehensible, you don’t know how hard it was for me to put this into a somewhat coherent narrative. But I really needed to get it off my chest. I probably missed some things that I wanted to say, if I think of something more, I’ll add an edit.

By the way, as you can see, I’m new to the MJ community and I’d love to make some friends, so feel free to message me.

#michael jackson #mj #king of pop #personal #my thoughts

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randomoranges · 4 years

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Birthday Gifts [Je t’aime sans retenue]

There’s a soft knock at the guestroom door and both dog and master turn their heads in time to see the door open. Edward steps in, closes the door behind him and then waits for a sign that he’s welcomed in. Étienne nods and places the book he’d been reading down (something borrowed off Edward’s shelf – nothing of consequence, but easy enough to distract him during the quiet moments of the night, when the rest of the household has gone to bed and he’s left with nervous energy coursing through his veins. He’d paint, but he hasn’t his materials. He’d draw, but he lacks his usual motivation.)

“There he is, Mr. Birthday Boy himself,” Edward says as he walks towards the bed. Mercury looks at him, wondering if she needs to move and finally Étienne pats the spot by his chest and she trots over, happy to be closer to her master. She curls up by his side, while Edward sits at the foot of the bed.

“My birthday is over, Ed,” Étienne says, quiet, but Edward rolls his eyes and assures him that here, in Edmonton, it is still May 17th and thus, it’s still his birthday. Étienne doesn’t add to that and let’s him cajole him for a moment.

“So, boyfriend, huh?” Edward asks and Étienne freezes for a moment, tensing, recalling the comment he had let slide earlier while on call with his sister. He hadn’t thought Edward had heard – figured if he had then he didn’t mind, but now he wonders if he had crossed some line too fast too soon and he has an apology ready at his lips, not sure what for, but wanting to stop this situation from getting worse, but Edward reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, “It’s fine, Bouclé – more than fine, really, I’m just surprised you said it,” He offers instead, warm, easy smile gracing his lips and the ricocheting mess that is Étienne’s heart quiets down for a moment, lulled by Edward’s reassurance.

“I was surprised too,” He admits. He hadn’t given it much thought – the words had spilled forth on an impulse, but – it had felt right, as if they had been stewing in the back of his mind for days and weeks and months and years. So many years. He had been afraid – so afraid to take that step and now that they are on a different chapter of their relationship, he had taken a leap forward, impulsive, as always, and he can only hope he won’t regret it later.

Edward shifts and gets closer, sits next to him by the empty side of the bed – a spot big enough for another person, truth be told – and wraps an arm around Étienne’s shoulders to pull him in close; Mercury jumps off when she realises that her space on her master’s chest is being usurped and goes off to find a better place to rest, still close to Étienne. Étienne goes willingly, furrows his face in Edward’s chest and feels some of his previous anxiety ebb away.

“Off to bed then?” He asks, a moment later, trying to regain whatever composure he’s never really had. He figures it’s the only reason as to why Edward’s here – to wish him a pleasant night and then retire to his own room with Calvin, down the hall and to the left and such. (Or whatever the new configuration is. He doesn’t stop to ponder.) All he knows is that he’s in the guestroom and he gets it – but, it still feels weird. Being here and not being with Edward. So far, Edward has spent more nights in his own room than here with him. It’s fine, really. This is all still new and tentative and a careful brush stroke on a new canvas, but – he still feels like a stranger and not like himself, in so many different ways.

“Thought maybe you’d like some company tonight, if you want – and it’s your birthday and all...” It’s a good thing there is still one part of his brain that reminds him that Edward is also figuring this out – that they’re all figuring out the steps to this weird dance they’ve started. He knows it would help if his mind didn’t feel like it had been plunged into some box and tossed into the back of a closet to be forgotten and accumulate dust, but he manages a nod and relaxes when Edward starts playing with his hair. That, at least, feels familiar and is at the very least comforting, even if he still wishes he could muster enough energy not to feel like a legume at all times.

For a moment, he wishes he could go back to February – to how he felt before. (And isn’t that something, that he wishes he could go back to the dead of winter), but at least then life made a little bit more sense and he felt more sure footed with plans and things he could do. Now he feels trapped, isolated and disconnected from nearly everything he loves (and even then.)

It’s strange to think that even though he’s here with people – even though he gets daily hugs and kisses – has slightly more freedom than he would back home, he still feels like a stranger in a strange place. Doesn’t know the people, the crowd, or the vibe. Doesn’t know what his place is in this household and feels worse for wear when he knows he’s got it easy, when so many others have it so much worse. He tries to keep the morale, talks it over with his friends, his therapist, with Edward, hell, even with Calvin, but – there’s still something missing – some detail he’s looked over and that has escaped.

“If it’s not too much trouble...” He’d hate to think that Edward sees him as an obligation. That he’s doing this because it’s his birthday and otherwise wouldn’t have bothered – would have gone back to his own bedroom with Calvin and would have left him here alone. He’s about to change his mind, tell Edward he’s tired and was going to call it a night, but Edward is a step ahead of him on this, tips his chin up ever so gently so that he could look at him – and Étienne would like to look away, escape the hazel gaze he knows too well, but he finds that he can’t.

“It’s never too much trouble.” He says with all the conviction of the world and so Étienne tricks his mind into believing the words. Let’s himself grow boneless into Edward’s arms, Mercury safely close by.

“Thanks for today, by the way,” Étienne adds. It’s been a – different birthday, so to say. He can’t say it’s been terrible, so he doesn’t. It’s the first one he’s really spent with Edward in a long time and he tries to recall if Edward was ever there for his birthday when it was this quiet. When they got to spend the day together without running from one place to the next. His mind tells him no, but he’s certain there must have been at least one time... “You didn’t have to do all that.” All that was the birthday cake and the presents. The rotisserie style chicken made from scratch with St-Hubert seasoning and sauce Edward had Élyse send over. It’s too much. No one is this kind or generous. No one simply opens their doors for a “friend” to stay for as long as needed. No one flies out a friend out of worry.

Étienne is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Edward to tell him that it’s been nice, but he’d like his privacy now. Étienne is still convinced that he’s in the way – that he’s interrupting some special alone time Calvin and Edward had been planning when this whole lockdown business came about – that they figured they could do all the indoor couple things they never had a chance to. That he’s only in their way. That they’re being nice to him out of some sense of obligation or moral code that will eventually break. (He ignores the fact that he would have done the same – would have gone out of his way to help someone as important to him as Edward. But that’s different. He knows himself. He thinks he knows Edward, but. There’s still no way Calvin is this okay with everything. He wouldn’t be. (He isn’t really, but he’s trying so damn hard. Maybe Calvin is too.))

“It’s your birthday; even though the world is a clusterfuck, we can still try and highlight some of the good in it – and you’re definitely part of the good.” There’s another soft kiss placed to his cheek and Étienne tries his best not to break apart all over again. There’s been too much of that lately and he’s frankly tired of it. Whatever defensive strategies he once had are now gone and Edward seems to be good at finding every last brick to the emotional walls he’s used for years.

Étienne kisses him instead, mostly because he wants to, partially because it will get Edward to quit saying such things that may just make his heart stop its skittering mess of beats and Edward goes pliant in his arms, parting his lips for him and meets him halfway. It’s a little greedier than this morning and Étienne manages to pin Edward to the bed and straddles his waist. This, at least, is more up to his speed and this, at least, is something he knows how to do even if his mind has gone off and wandered elsewhere, never to be seen again. He’s good at this. He can do this with his eyes closed. He can do this without even being aware of it (has done it, far too many times, without even being coherently aware – even with Edward.)

He feels like he’s been wasting time and opportunities, now that he has Edward at such close proximity. The hugs and kisses are nice, sure, and it is pretty much all he wants at the moment, but he feels as though he should want more. As though he needs to make best of this strange opportunity. Make up for lost time and store some for later, when they won’t be under the same roof. He doesn’t feel like it, honestly, doesn’t feel like much, but he fears that Edward will cast him aside if he doesn’t deliver on what he’s known for, so he puts himself in motion, going through the actions he’s done so many times before.

Edward lets him lead, lets him touch, lets him kiss and nip and tug and pull and lets him get whatever he needs to get out of his system, until they’re both shirtless and a little out of breath. Étienne isn’t looking for soft, or for affection – feels like he needs to prove a point that there’s still some of his gritty essence buried in the mess of his head – that this is what Edward’s signing up for and is it really what he wants – that he’s still a broken mess and is he really worth the trouble, but Edward reaches up for him, gentle as all else, and caresses his face with loving fingers and whatever Étienne had been trying to prove breaks off and leaves him aching.

“We don’t have to do anything, you know?” Edward tells him, once more reading his mood better than he can at times. “I didn’t come to your room with the intent of having sex; if we do it’s fine, but I came here because I wanted to be with you,” He adds and Étienne’s cheeks flush for a different reason, ashamed and embarrassed.

Étienne falls back next to Edward and wishes he could disappear. He hopes maybe Edward will let him be, that maybe he’ll be disgusted and leave, but Edward spoons behind him and presses himself close, kisses his bare shoulder. His arms come around him and Étienne hates how small he feels or the tears that threaten to fall. Most of all he hates how empty and alone he still feels inside. He hates the perceived distance between him and Edward he knows isn’t really there, but that plagues his mind. He hates that he’s like this. A perpetual mess left at the mercy of others.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay, Étienne,” Edward is gentle as he properly gathers him in his arms. There’s some manoeuvring, pillows are fixed and propped up and Étienne lets Edward jostle him until he finds himself being held against Edward’s chest, while Edward cradles him close, sitting up against the pillows and the headboard.

“I’m sorry – I’m sorry I’m still such a mess – I thought I was doing better,” He admits and he tries to keep it together – tries to seem like he has some semblance of control, but he can’t anymore and gives up, letting himself crumble into Edward’s arms. Luckily, Edward is kind and ever so patient and holds him close as he murmurs reassuring things in his ear. He lets him recompose himself and stays even when he could have easily left. A moment or two or maybe even more pass and eventually Étienne calms down enough to be coherent again. Edward hands him a tissue and Étienne wipes at his eyes and blows his nose. He feels a little better, as though he’s evacuated something foul from his soul and he supposes it’s a start.

“You know it’s never been about the sex,” Edward reiterates, “I love you for more than sex,” And, logically, Étienne knows – or at least, he tells himself he knows, but now he wonders if he really did – if he ever truly believed that someone could love him without the sex. If that was even a thing. If he was ever worthy of more than just sex. “Don’t get me wrong,” Edward continues, carding his fingers through Étienne’s curls, “I enjoy the intimate things we do together, but I also enjoy spending time with you doing everything else. I love you for who you are, Étienne, sex or no sex, always have and always will.”

Étienne hugs him close. Holds onto him and tries to burn the words into his skin – to remember them for the next time he feels like he’s drowning from the inside – to have them close when he feels far. Edward does his best, presses gentle kisses to Étienne’s brow and his cheek, until they resettle. Étienne is glad he’s here – gladder still that Edward is here with him and when he tells him as much, he’s rewarded with the softest of smiles. Étienne asks if Edward will kiss him – not because they have to, but because he would like to, and Edward is more than happy to comply. Étienne even manages a joke, old as it may be, and reminds Edward that he’d never gotten a proper chance to finish off his earlier countdown of birthday kisses. It makes Edward laugh and he picks up from where he left off, promising to make it back to 1642 – one kiss for every birthday.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #projocanondoko #fic #the conclusion of the birthday fics

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heuristicallyinclined · 5 years

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MallekWeek2020 Day 3 Writing Prompt

Day 3: Mallek discovering his god tier powers

(AO3)

Day 3: Meeting MSPA Reader for the first time in a while

Nobody Knows (AO3)

This a larger fic I’ve been working on for a bit now. Posting the link to this too since I updated it today and it’s relevant. The read more contains a ficlet of the god tier prompt.

Summary: Mallek finds out about an unusual game from an even more unusual source.

Notes: So this was really hard to write because it has been a decent while since I have thought of the actual game mechanics of Homestuck.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

It was only out of curiosity that you accepted the chat request that night. You were also bored and tired and not making any progress on the code you were working on, so they made for an excellent distraction. The username, "alieninvasionofone," seemed funny to you and you couldn't work out what was going on in their profile picture. Some kind of image editing? You had to admit, you were kinda curious as to how they found you. You don't use social media at all and that line wasn't public. You always used vpns and encryptions when messaging people on it and you thought you had made a pretty airtight, secure communication system. Guess not.

They immediately introduced themselves with black text that made you wonder if they were trying too hard to be edgy with the hemoanonymity or something. Maybe they were pulling this whole alien thing for attention or were a very committed roleplayer? Either way, they were very weirdly excited to talk to you "for the first time on your end." Whatever that meant. You asked them who they were and how they found you, thinking they were another hacker. They said they were an alien that you would befriend in the future and that you would tell them how to. You called bullshit on that.

Thinking they were someone who must have caught you slipping somehow, you asked what the fuck they wanted before you found them and sent drones to their location. They said that that wouldn’t work because they were in some "semistable pocket of space and time" and were really sorry to have scared you. They said they needed you to help them help you get things moving. They said they were your friend, or at least would eventually be, and wanted to help you out. You tried to trace them to find them to find them, to figure out who was fucking with you. But they just, didn't seem to be anywhere? Which didn't make sense. What kind of help were they even trying to offer you? What did they have that they thought you wanted?

You almost severed the connection when they said they wanted to help you get out of your ordeals and escape the planet. You didn't talk about that shit with anyone, they especially shouldn't have known about it. But they said it was future you who told them. Maybe normally you would think you had a stalker, but they described what you apparently said to them in detail and it was way too accurate. It was starting to freak you out. You asked them what the fuck it is that they wanted you to do. They said you had to go spelunking. The fuck?

They gave you the coordinates to what was supposed to be an ancient code that would help you get out of your ordeals. You asked what was the catch and they said there was no catch, and from their end you already did this and they were just helping you get started. The easy part would be finding it. The hard part would be turning it into an executable file that you would need to send to them and that they would send to their other friends.

You asked why they didn't just do it on their own since they were apparently savvy enough to find you. They said they "weren't a hacker, sorry, information specialist" like you and had to follow your specific instructions to get this connection going. They knew your dumb joke? This felt weird. This felt very fucking weird. But they hadn't threatened you and you were running out of ideas.

Eventually, despite all logic, you agreed.

Finding some ancient code scratched into a cave wall that promised escape from the planet and not having to go through your ordeals seemed like a wild honkbeast chase from someone who wanted to fuck with you in the weirdest ways. You were hesitant to do it, but as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were running out of time and you would try anything to try to get more of it. Even riding your rocketboard to the middle of nowhere because your future alien friend said you would find something there.

After making it to the cavern and venturing in, you were able to see it for yourself and you were astounded. Lines and lines of code carved deeply into the cave walls, you traced a claw along the characters, their edges had rounded a bit over time, but it was still completely legible. You were maybe starting to rethink things. This code looked like it had been there for hundreds of sweeps and was written in a way that preceded the invention of husktops, but didn’t look too hard to make compatible.

The thought that you even could was wild. Trying it at all was insane but you didn’t really have much to lose. You thought there was just about as good of a chance of the code you found actually coherently running as there there was you having some kind of last second breakthrough in controlling the drones. So nonexistent, but you were getting desperate and this was starting to intrigue you.

While you were working on it, the alien would message you from time to time to check up on you. They gave you some more information as to what this would all even do. You didn’t believe them at the time. Still, you liked video games and Alternia was already wild as hell, so it couldn't be too bad, if they, again, weren't completely insane and wasting your very limited time with this.

It was kinda nice to have someone checking up on you though, especially when it was just chatting about dumb stuff, they were easy to talk to. You could see how you could become friends with them. If any of what they said actually made sense, you probably would already be. You tried to ask them about how they were even talking to you.

Because from what you understand, they, the alien, were talking to you, past Mallek, because future you told them to and they were friends. But this was something future you told them to do since it already happened to him. And they agreed since from their perspective, future you had started talking to them around when they first started the game and future you had already gotten a lot of help from future them in the beginning and had to do it to complete some kind of time loop. Where and how the fuck did the original convergence occur? Meeting each other because you would meet each other sounded paradoxical as hell. The more they told you, the less you felt you understood.

To be fair, they said they didn’t super get it either, which wasn’t super reassuring on your end. Time was apparently your domain and you would eventually understand it to the point of being able to pull this off. Also something about the inherent connection of serpents to time? You guess you can thank the future you for this pan-ache. Which is probably the most believable thing they’ve said.

When you were done, they seemed ecstatic and said that they would start organizing shit with the rest of their friends. They had apparently been planning something big for a while and you would eventually be helping them cause the events that would lead to you currently helping them? It didn’t make much sense, but you were used to it at that point. You didn't hear from them in awhile after that, even if it was mostly bullshit, you kinda missed hearing from them.

They messaged you one more time before they told you to run the file. They said that time flows weirdly in the medium, so when you enter it and finally start messaging them after you found your footing, it would be the beginning for them. So they wouldn’t know you at all. This left you a bit more distressed than you thought it would. Sure they caught you really off guard in the beginning, but they were pretty chill when they weren’t going into game mechanics. They even listened to you rant about stuff and you sent each other dumb shit. You had kinda grown to like this little weirdo and the idea of them not knowing who you were at all, you didn’t like it.

They said that the game was going to start soon and that they hoped you were ready to make an alien friend in the future. You told them you already did and that you would see them on the other side. They said you absolutely would.

You had the file, and were ready to run it. You were nervous, but it was this or nothing. You ran it.

When you finally did, that was when shit really popped off.

And that led you to now. Once you were in the game though, you met up with their other friends who all seemed to have met them through pretty convoluted mechanics. With a large group, things were pretty hectic, but at least you had numbers on your side. You also found out you were one of three time players. You were all pretty different with one being a bronze rancher and the other being the actual fucking Marvus Xoloto, but despite your bickering, you were all pretty committed to getting shit done and not dying. Until now.

You finally made it to your quest bed. A red slab of rock greeted you ominously and you felt sick. You had seen a few others rise through death, saw what they had become capable of. You knew you needed to too, it was just, you were terrified. You had spent so long on Alternia, being careful, covering your tracks, and limiting what you did. It was to escape culling. And now you just, you’re supposed to die?

You had bonded with a few other trolls in the game, Diemen was even here and you two were cool, but you didn’t know if you had anyone you could necessarily call up because of your fear of death. You knew someone, you used to, but they didn’t know you now. You couldn’t message them the same way you used to. So you do the next best thing.

You send a friend request to alieninvasionofone.

Death did not come easily for you. But it did eventually. And after it did, you rose, more alive than ever before.

You floated, adorned in red robes and wings made for speed. You felt like you had been struck by lightning with you now being hyper aware of time. The past, present, and future, you could just dip in and take what you and others needed. It was all accessible to you now, yours for the taking.

You were never going to run out of time again.

You got a notification.

Your friend request had been accepted.

You had a temporal loop to create.

Notes: Can you tell that I don’t know anything about time loops or paradoxes?

#mallek adalov #mallekweek #mallekweek2020 #hiveswap #homestuck #my writing

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betweengenesisfrogs · 6 years

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Homestuck is My Favorite Sprite Comic

Yes, you read that right.

Homestuck is my favorite sprite comic.

Those of you who remember the earlier days of the internet are probably looking at this post in disbelief right about now. Others of you might be scratching your heads, not knowing what I’m talking about.

But here’s my pitch: Homestuck is the culmination of an entire genre of internet art, and the tools that make it so powerful are the very tools that made that genre once so reviled.

Homestuck is the greatest and most successful sprite comic of all time.

And honestly, I’ve wanted to talk about that for ages, so let’s do it.

WHAT SPRITE COMICS WERE

Many of my readers are probably too young to remember the era of sprite comics. So: what were sprite comics?

Sprite comics were a genre of webcomics made entirely by taking pixel art from video games – especially character art, called “sprites,” but also backgrounds and other images—and placing them into panels to tell a story. They were near-ubiquitous on the internet in the early 2000s, emerging right as webcomics in general were seeking to establish themselves as an art form.

They were not, shall we say, known for their quality. The low bar to access meant that art skill was not an obstacle to starting one. The folks behind the huge swell of them tended to be young people, kids and early teenagers recreating the plots of their favorite video games with new OCs—not the most advanced writers or artists. They were the early 2000s’ quintessential example of ephemeral, childish art. Unfortunately, they look even worse today—blown-up pixels don’t hold up well when displayed on higher-resolution monitors.

Today, they’re mostly forgotten, remembered only as a weird, strange moment in the youth of the internet. Someone who evoked them today, such as a blogger who compared them to one of the most successful webcomics of all time, would be inviting good-natured teasing at the very least.

It would be unfair to dismiss them entirely, though. In this low-stakes environment, comics where the author could bring more skill—engaging writing, legitimately funny jokes, or especially, a real ability to work with pixel art—really stood out. (Unsurprisingly, these authors tended to skew a bit older.)

The obvious one to mention is Bob and George. Bob and George wasn’t the first sprite comic, but it was the most influential. Conceived initially as Mega Man-themed filler for a hand-drawn comic about superheroes, it quickly became a merging of the two concepts, with the original characters made into Mega Man-style sprites, full of running gags, humorous retellings of the Mega Man games, elaborate storylines about time travel, and robots eating ice cream. It was generally agreed, even among sprite comic haters, that Bob and George was a pretty good comic. Worth mentioning also are 8-Bit Theater, which turned the plot of the first Final Fantasy into a spectacular and hilarious farce, and of course Kid Radd, my second favorite sprite comic. (More on that later.)

But even if you weren’t looking for greatness—there was something just damn fun about them. The passion of sprite comic authors was clear, even if their ideas didn’t always cohere. To this day, I think the sprite comic scene has the same appeal pulp art does—it’s crude and rough, full of garbage to sift through, but every so often, something deeply sincere and bizarre shines through, and the culture of its authors is a fascinating object of study in itself.

Okay, full disclosure: I was one of the people who made a sprite comic. I’ve written about my experiences with that in more depth elsewhere, but yeah, I was on the inside of this scene, rather than a disinterested observer, and from the inside, maybe it’s a lot easier to see the appeal.

Still, let me make this claim: even with all their flaws, sprite comics were doing some incredibly interesting things, and Homestuck is heir to their legacy.

TAKE ME DOWN TO RECOLOR CITY

One of the problems people always had with sprite comics was the sprites themselves. They’re the most repetitive thing in the world. You just keep copying and pasting the same images over and over again, maybe with a few tweaks. That’s not really being an artist, is it? It’s so lazy. Re-drawing things from different angles keeps things dynamic, develops your skill, and makes your work better in general. Right?

I’m mostly in agreement. Certainly I think it’s fair to rag on the Control-Alt-Delete guy, along with other early bad webcomics, for copy-pasting their characters while dropping in new expressions and mass-producing tepid strips. And to be fair, digging through bad sprite comics often felt like an exercise in seeing the same slightly-edited recolors of Mega Man characters over and over again. You got really tired of that same body with its blobby feet and hands.

(It should be noted, though, that there were folks in the sprite comic scene who could pixel art the quills off a porcupine. I salute you, brave pixel art masters of 2006. I hope you all got into your chosen art school.)

All this said, I think the repetitive and simplistic nature of sprite comics was often their biggest strength.

THE POWER OF ABSTRACTION

In his classic work Understanding Comics, Scott McCloud makes an observation about cartooning that has stayed with me to this day.

McCloud notes that simple, abstract drawings, like faces that are only few lines and dots on a page, resonate with us more strongly than more detailed drawings. This is because our minds fill in what’s missing on the page. We ascribe human depth to simple gestures and expressions based on our own emotions and experiences – and this makes us feel closer to these characters as readers. Secretly, simple cartoons can be one of the most powerful forms of storytelling. If you want your readers to fall in love with your characters, draw them simply, and let them fill them in.

Video game sprites work very well in this regard. They have that same simplicity that cartoons do. In fact, I’d be willing to bet a huge part of the success of SNES-era RPGs was simple, almost childlike character sprites drawing people in. I think sprites did the same for sprite comics.

Here’s the weird thing: Bob and George worked. Despite four different characters being variations on the same friggin’ Mega Man sprite in different colors, they immediately began to seem like different people with distinct personalities. For me, George’s befuddled, helpless dismay immediately comes to mind whenever I picture his face, while with Mega Man himself it’s usually a wide-eyed, childlike glee. I would never confuse them. This, despite the fact that the only actual difference between their faces is that George is blonde. It’s pretty clear what happened. The personalities the author established for them through dialogue and storytelling shone through, and my brain did the rest.

Sprites, in short, were a canvas upon which the mind could project any story the author wanted to tell. Even the most minute differences in pixel art came to stand, in the best sprite comics, for wide divergences in personality and ideals, once the reader spent enough time with them to adapt to their style of representation.

Wait a minute, haven’t we seen this somewhere before? Character designs that focus on variations on a theme, with subtle differences that nonetheless render them instantly recognizable?

Oh, right.

Look at what greets us on the very first page of Homestuck. An absurdly simple cartoon boy, abstracted to a ridiculous degree—he doesn’t even have arms!—followed a whole bunch of characters that follow suit. Though many other representations of the characters emerge, these little figures never quite go away, do they? Why is that?

Simple: they’re very easy to manipulate. They’re modular—you can give John arms or not, depending on whether it’s useful. You can put him in a whole variety of poses and save them to a template. You can change out his facial expressions with copy and paste. You can give him a new haircut and call him Jake. It’s all very quick and easy.

Sprite comics proliferated because they were very easy to mass-produce. Andrew Hussie’s original conception of Homestuck was very similar: something he could put out very quickly and easily, where even the most elaborate ideas could rely on existing assets to be sped smoothly along. We all know the result: an incredible production machine, churning out unfathomable amounts of content from 2009-2012. I’d say it was a good call.

But it goes way deeper than that. The modular nature of sprites always suggested a kind of modularity to the sprite comic premise. George and Mega Man were different people, true, but also two variations on a theme. Was there something underlying them that they had in common? Perhaps their similarity says something like: We exist in a world which has a certain set of rules? One of my favorite conceits from Bob and George was that when characters visited the past, they were represented by NES-era Mega Man sprites, while in the present, they were SNES sprites, and in the future, the author used elaborate splicing to render them as 32-bit Mega Man 8 sprites or similar.

Suppose there was a skilled cartoonist thinking about his next big project, who wanted to tell a story centered around this kind of modularity, a narrative that was built out of iterative, swappable pieces by its very design. He might very well create a sprite comic named Homestuck.

Homestuck is a story about a game that creates a hyperflexible mythology for its players, where the villains, challenges, and setting change depending upon what players bring to the experience, yet which all share underlying goals and assumptions. What more perfect opportunity to create a modular story as well? Different groups of kids and trolls have motifs that get swapped around to produce new characters, whether that’s through ectobiology, the Scratch, or the eerie parallels between the kids and trolls’ sessions. And yet each character can be analyzed as an individual.

This is an incredible way to build a huge emotional investment from your readers. Not only does this kind of characterization invite analysis, the abstractions draw readers in to generate their own headcanons and interpretations. A deep commitment to pluralism is at the heart of Hussie’s character design. Then, too, it encourages readers to build their own new designs from these models. Kidswaps, bloodswaps, fantrolls—these have long been the heart of Homestuck’s fandom. And what are bloodswaps if not sprite recolors for a new generation? With the added bonus that now a change in color carries narrative weight, evoking new moods and identities for these characters in ways that early sprite comics could only dream of.

In Hussie’s hands, even the dreaded copy-and-paste takes on heroic depth of meaning. Even when Hussie moves away from sprites to his own loose art style, he continues to remix what we’ve previously see. Indeed, Hussie talks about how he would go out of his way to edit his own art into new images even when it would take more time than drawing something new. Why? Because he wanted to evoke that very feeling of having seen this before—the visual callback to go along with the many conceptual and verbal callbacks that echo throughout Homestuck. This is at the heart of what Doc Scratch (speaking for Hussie) called “circumstantial simultaneity:” we are invited to compare two moments or two characters, to see what they have in common, or how they contrast. Everything in Paradox Space is deeply linked with everything else. And Hussie establishes this in our minds using nothing less than the tool sprite comics were so deeply reviled for: the “lazy” repetition of an image.

(It’s fitting that some of the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous images in Homestuck—dream bubble scenery and the like—are the result of Hussie taking things he’s made before and combining them into fantastic dreamscapes.)

But it all started with the hyperflexible, adaptable character images Hussie created at the very beginning of Homestuck.

And if you need more proof that Homestuck is a sprite comic, I think we need look no further than what Hussie, and the rest of the Homestuck community call these images.

We call them sprites.

THE FIRST GENRE-BENDERS

Was Andrew Hussie influenced by sprite comics in the development of Homestuck? It’s hard to say, but as a webcomic artist in the first decade of the 2000s, he was surely aware of them. It’s likely that he quickly realized that his quick, adaptable images served the same purposes as a sprite in a video game or a sprite comic, and chose to call them that.

One purpose I haven’t mentioned up until now: sprites lend themselves very well to animations. In fact, in their original context of video games, that’s exactly what they’re for: frames of art that can be used to show a character running, jumping, posing, moving across a screen. It’s not surprising, then, that sprite comic makers quickly saw the utility in that.

Homestuck was, in fact, not the first webcomic to make Flash animations part of its story. There were experiments with various gifs and such in other comics, but I think sprite comics were among the most successful at becoming the multi-media creations that would come to be known as hypercomics..

Take a look at this animation from Bob and George. It represents a climactic final confrontation against a long-standing villain, using special effects to make everything dramatic, but ultimately, like many a Homestuck animation, leads to kind of a pyscheout. The drama and the humor of the moment are clear, though. This relies in large part on the music—which is taken directly from the game Chrono Trigger. This makes total sense. Interestingly, it also contains voice acting, which is something Homestuck never tried—probably because it would run contrary to its ideals of pluralism. What I find fascinating is that in sprite comics, animations like these served a very similar purpose to Homestuck’s big flashes: elevating a big moment into something larger-than-life. Another good example is this sequence from Crash and Bass. Seriously, it seems like every sprite comic maker wanted to try their hand at Flash animation.

(By the way, it’s a lot harder than it looks!! I envy Hussie his vectorized sprites. Pixel art is a PAIN to work with in the already buggy program that is Flash.)

The result: because of the sprites themselves, sprite comics were among the first works to play around with the border between comics and other media in the way that would come to be thought of as quintessentially Homestuck.

What it also meant was that another genre emerged in parallel with sprite comics: the sprite animation. Frequently these would retell the story of a particular game, offer a spectacular animated battle sequence, parody the source material, or all three. Great examples include this animation for Mega Man Zero, and this frankly preposterous crossover battle sequence. Chris Niosi’s TOME also found its earliest roots as an animation series of this kind. You also found plenty of sprite-based flash games, in which players could manipulate game characters in a way that was totally outside the context of the original works.

The website the vast majority of these games and animations were hosted on?

Newgrounds, best known to Homestuck fans as the website Hussie crashed in 2011 while trying to upload Cascade.

What’s less talked about is that Hussie was friends, or at least on conversational terms with, the owner of the site, hence the idea to host his huge animation there in the first place, and other flashes, like the first Alterniabound, were initially hosted there as well.

It’s hard to believe that Hussie wasn’t at least a little familiar with the Newgrounds scene. I suspect that he largely conceived of Homestuck as part of the world of “Flash animation—” which in 2009 meant the wide variety of things that were hosted on Newgrounds, including sprite animations.

The freedom and fluidity sprite comics had to change into games and animations and back into comics again was one of their most fascinating traits. Homestuck’s commitment to media-bending needs, at this point, no introduction. But what’s less known is that sprite comics were exploring that territory first—that Homestuck, in short, is the kind of thing they wanted to grow up to be.

PUT ME IN THE GAME

I would be a fool not to mention another big thing Homestuck and sprite comics have in common: a character who is literally the author in cartoon form, running around doing goofy things and messing with the story. This was an incredibly common cliché in sprite comics, no doubt because of Bob and George, who did it early on and never looked back. You might have noticed that the animation I linked above concerns a showdown between Bob and George’s author, David Anez—depicted, delightfully, as another Mega Man recolor—and a mysterious alternate author named Helmut—who is like Mega Man plus Sepiroth I think? It’s all very strange. I could ramble for hours about the relationship between Hussie and the alt-author villains of Homestuck and what it all means, but I’m not sure I can nail anything down with certainty for these two. Maybe Bob and George was never quite that metaphysical.

But yes, bringing the author into the story in some form was already a cliché by the time Homestuck started up. Indeed, I think that’s why Hussie’s character refers to it as “a bad idea” to break the fourth wall—he’s recognizing that people will have seen this before, and are already tired of this sort of shit. And then he goes and does it anyway and makes it somehow brilliant, because he’s Andrew Hussie.

Homestuck breathes life into the cliché by taking it in a metaphysical/metafictional direction. I don’t think that was really the motivation for most sprite comic authors, though. Let’s see if we can dig a little deeper.

I think the cliché kept happening because sprite comic authors were writing about a subject that very closely concerned themselves: video games. I’m only kind of joking. The thing about video games is that even though they’re made for everyone, playing through one yourself feels like an intensely personal experience. You develop an emotional relationship to a world, to its characters, that feels distinctly your own. Now, suddenly, thanks to the magic of sprites, you have an opportunity to tell stories about that world for others to read. Of course you’re going to want to put yourself in the story in some form.

When it wasn’t author characters in sprite comics, it was OCs. You know Dr. Wily? Well here’s my own original villain, Dr. Vindictus. You know Mega Man? Here’s my new character, Super Cool Man. He hangs out with Mega Man and they beat the bad guys together. Stuff like that. Most sprite comics retold the story of a game, or multiple games in a big crossover format, with original elements added in. There was quite a lot of “Link and Sonic and Mega Man are all friends with my OC and they hang out at his house.”

What’s interesting, though, is that because these sprite comics were very aware that they were about video games, this was where they sometimes got very meta. It started with humorous observation—hey, isn’t it funny that Link goes around breaking into people’s houses and smashing their pots? But sometimes, it grew into more serious commentary. Is Mega Man trapped in a never-ending cycle, doomed to fight the same fight against the same mad scientist until the end of time? Is it worth it, being a video game hero?

Enter Homestuck. What I’ve been dancing around this whole time is:

Homestuck is a sprite comic…because Homestuck is a video game.

Or more specifically, Homestuck’s a comic about a video game called SBURB, where the lines between the game and the comic about the game blur as characters wrestle with the narratives around them, both those encoded into the game and those encoded into our expectations.

Homestuck presents the fantasy of many a sprite comic maker: I get to go on heroic quests, I get to change the world and become a god. I get to be part of the video game. And then it asks the same question certain sprite comics were beginning to ask:

Is it worth it, to be that hero?

I want to tell you about my second favorite sprite comic, a comic called Kid Radd.

Kid Radd distinguished itself from other sprite comics of the time by being a completely original production. Its sprites looked like they could be from a variety of NES and SNES-era video games, but they were all done from scratch, and the games they purported to represent were all fictional. Kid Radd used animations with original music, and sometimes interactive, clickable games, to tell its story. It also used all sorts of neat programming tricks to make it load faster on the internet of the early 2000s, which was great—unfortunately, these same techniques made it break as web technology evolved, something Homestuck fans in 2019 can definitely relate to. The good news is, fans have maintained a dedicated and reformatted archive where the comics can still be seen and downloaded.

Kid Radd’s premise is that video game characters themselves are conscious and alive—more specifically, their sprites. Sprites developed consciousness as human beings projected personality and identity onto them, remaining aware of their status as video game constructs while also seeking to be something more. The story follows the titular Kid Radd, at first in the context of his own game, commenting on the choices the player controlling him. He must endure every death, every strange decision along the way to save his girlfriend Sheena. Then the story expands into a larger context as Radd, Sheena, and many other video game characters are released onto the internet as data. They try to find their own identities and build a society for themselves, but struggle with the tendency toward violence that games have programmed into them. The story culminates in an honestly moving moment where Radd confronts the all-powerful creators of their reality—human beings.

It’s a very good comic.

The first sprite comic authors wanted to fuse real life with video games. Later sprite comic authors decided to ask: what would that really mean? Would it be painful? Would you suffer? Would you find a way to make your life meaningful all the same? Despite the limitations of sprite comics, these ideas had incredible potential, and in works like Kid Radd, they flourished.

Homestuck is heir to that legacy.

It takes the questions Kid Radd was asking, and asks them in new ways. It tries to understand, on an even deeper level, how the rules of video games shape our own minds and give us ways to understand ourselves.

At its heart, Homestuck is a sprite comic, and it might just be the greatest of them all.

EPILOGUE

I’ve seen a lot of good discussion recently on how Homestuck preserves a certain era of the internet like a time capsule: its culture, its technology, its assumptions, its memes.

I think sprite comics, too, are part of the culture that created Homestuck. Do I think Hussie spent the early 2000s recoloring Mega Man sprites? No, probably not. But what I do know is that sprite comics were part of his world. The first webcomic cartoonists came of age alongside an odd companion, the weird, overly sincere, dorky little sibling that was sprite comics. Like them or hate them, you couldn’t escape them. They were there.

And maybe a certain cartoonist saw a kind of potential in them, in the same way he summoned Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff from the depths of bad gamer culture.

Or maybe he just knew, as some sprite comic authors did, that the time was right for their kind of story.

On a personal level—Homestuck came along right when I needed it.

Around 2009, the bubble that was sprite comics finally burst. People were getting tired of them, or growing out of them, and blown-up sprites no longer looked so good on modern monitors.

I was more than a little heartbroken. I’d enjoyed Bob and George, read my fill of Mega Man generica, and fallen utterly in love with Kid Radd. I’d been working on my own sprite comic for a long time out of a sense that there was huge potential in them that we were only scratching the surface of. I’d dreamed of maybe someday doing something as amazing as the best of them did. But I was watching that world disappear. I had to admit to myself that my work wasn’t going to continue to find an audience. That I could live with. But it was painful to think that the potential I sensed, the feats of storytelling I wanted to see in the world, would never be realized.

And then, in the fall of 2010, a friend linked me to a comic that broke all the rules, that mixed animation, games, music, images and chatlogs. A comic that crafted its own sprites, just as Kid Radd did, and remixed its images into an ever-expanding web of associations and meanings. A comic that took on the idea of living inside a video game with relish and turned it into a gorgeous meditation on escaping the ideas and systems that control us.

That this comic would exist, let alone that it would succeed. That it would become one of the most popular creations of all time, that it would surpass other webcomics and break out into anime conventions and the real world, that it would become such a cultural juggernaut, to the point where it’s impossible to imagine an internet without Homestuck—

I can’t even put into words how happy that makes me. It’s the reason I’m still writing essays about Homestuck nearly eight years after I found it.

And it’s why Homestuck will always be my favorite sprite comic.

-Ari

[Notes: The image of the kids came from the ever-useful MSPA Wiki—please support and aid in their efforts to provide a good source of info about Homestuck! They need more support these days than ever.

For more on Homestuck’s place as a continuation of the zeitgeist of early 2000s experimental webcomics, this article by Sam Keeper at Storming the Ivory Tower is excellent and insightful.

Thanks for reading, y’all.]

#homestuck analysis #homestuck #homestuck's influences #hypercomics #understanding homestuck #sprite comics #internet culture

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lasercruz · 4 years

Text

@quarterdollar fuck you and im sorry that i took so long to answer and i hope that im mostly coherent because i am. very tired as im typing this

1: Full name Nicky Jackie Marie Cruz !!

2: Age 21

3: 3 Fears Mold, tall heights if I’m not secured (like, I’m not scared of rollercoaster heights but I’m scared of like, cliffs), and balloons esp balloon animals

4: 3 things I love I love so many things uhh hh h. Jjba, adventure zone, and my friendssss 💞

I know turn ons/offs aren’t inherently sexual but i never know what to say for them so im skipping them :0

7: My best friend you 🥺🥺

8: Sexual orientation bi

9: My best first date ive never really been on a actual date :0

10: How tall am I 5′3

11: What do I miss being with my friends physically and just watching stuff or goofing around on the floor 😭

12: What time were I born 11:02pm

13: Favourite color Dark blues

14: Do I have a crush yes shh

15: Favourite quote there so much sappy quotes that are on uquizzes a lot that i like a lot the first that comes to mind is “ You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you.” and so on and also “if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more”

16: Favourite place As far as just physically and not like people or other stuff that comes with with a place, I miss VT campus a lot tbh more than I thought I would. To pick a more specific place, the gazebo at the duck pond cause its where I’d go if I wanted to be alone or like if my roommate was sleeping or working and i didnt want to worry about being quite and it was always super peaceful

17: Favourite food I dont really have One favorite food it just depends what I’m in the mood for but my go to answer for favorite food category wise is either chinese or seafood

18: Do I use sarcasm Depends who I’m with ?? Generally no not often but if im close with someone and just goofin yeah

19: What am I listening to right now My love song playlist. its my go to thing to listen to cause my playlist with all my music has so much on it that i end up skipping half the songs until i find something im in the mood for and this one has a lot less that i end up skipping. the current song its on is day without you by keep for cheap

20: First thing I notice in new person It depends on the person like if they have something that stands out about them, thats what I tend to notice but like. How they carry themself i guess ? cause i feel like thats a easy way to get a read on somebody before talking to them

21: Shoe size 5 mens / 7 womans

22: Eye color Brown

23: Hair color Naturally dark brown but currently dyed black with rainbow bangs

24: Favourite style of clothing this question is on so many ask games and quizzes and I never know how to answer it cause i feel like i dont really have one specific style,, I like colorful and fun stuff i guess ?

25: Ever done a prank call? No and if you prank call a place of business youre annoying. i used to answer phones at work and we didn’t get them super often but GOD i hate prank callers

27: Meaning behind my URL emu is an old nickname and what i mainly went by until i settled on Nicky and this. is my blog.

28: Favourite movie Baby driver !!

29: Favourite song my go to answer for this is community gardens by the scary jokes

30: Favourite band THE SCARY JOKES

31: How I feel right now sleeby,,,,

32: Someone I love i love , my friendz ,, 🥺🥰

33: My current relationship status single ✌️

34: My relationship with my parents im close to my mom but i dont really get along with my dad ,

35: Favourite holiday Christmas !

36: Tattoos and piercing i have no tattoos, 3 piercings in each ear (2 on each earlobe and 1 on the top on each side)

37: Tattoos and piercing i want I want a interrobang on my wrist and an Aquarius symbol on my ankle and MAYBE the joestar birthmark, i wouldn’t mind more ear piercings and i want a septum piercing but ive seen videos of them getting done and they make me squirm i dont know if id go through with it

38: The reason I joined Tumblr sdklgkjgh i had a my little pony roleplay blog before i made my personal account

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? no we’re good friends !!

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? no not regularly at least

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? no

42: When did I last hold hands? my mom tried to hold my hand when i was half asleep on the couch the other day but like i was so out of it so like it was more our fingers together and the rest of my hand just loosely dangling so if that doesnt count, you

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? i give myself about 2 hours if im doing full makeup but thats purposefully longer than i need so i dont have to worry about rushing and i can relax and take my time

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days? no i only shave them if they’re gonna be showing or if the Urge to be Smooth comes over me

45: Where am I right now? my room at home on my bed

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? probably Kaylie cause she doesn’t drink and i assume if im drunk with other friends there she’d be the only sober one

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? Reasonable, if i have it too loud i cant think so the only time i have my music loud is if im doing nothing and want to Not Think

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? Ye

49: Am I excited for anything? short term im excited for the ai crushes all banks stream tonight and long term im excited to move into our apartment

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? no im not a tell everything to someone type of person .

51: How often do I wear a fake smile? i smile most of the time like, at work (before we wore masks) id always be smiling to look nice and like. just in general if i want to Not Look Unhappy or whatever

52: When was the last time I hugged someone? my mom probably like, yesterday

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? ive never kissed any1 .

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? nope i don’t think i really trust easily so like this doesnt rlly happen,

55: What is something I disliked about today? i woke up late cause i was up late last night so ive been tired all day I dont like the feeling

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? language barriers aside itd be super cool to meet hirohiko araki

57: What do I think about most? Whatever media im currently most into so right now adventure zone and magnus archives

58: What’s my strangest talent? umm i dunno im kinda flexable i guess ? not like ~contortionist~ level but like enough that i can freak people out sometimes

59: Do I have any strange phobias? i mentioned balloons as a fear in an eariler question so yeah that but im a lot better about it than i used to be

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? in front tbh

61: What was the last lie I told? i was on phones for the last hour and a half of my shift on friday and like. when people call and ask if an item is in stock and i can’t confirm it i, just tell them its not. like, someone asked if we had a specific kayak and i usually just search the walmart app or run over to where itd be to check but the kayaks are to far for me to run to and the app said limited stock which usually means little to none so , i just put it on hold for a bit then tell him we’re out.

62: Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online? i like video chatting in theory cause its nice to see people visibly react to stuff but i tend to get too self conscious about how i look so i just do audio only

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? yes to both !! i am both

64: Do I believe in magic? yes in some ways i suppose

65: Do I believe in luck? yes im v superstitious

66: What’s the weather like right now? its a pretty good day its sunny but not too hot :oo

67: What was the last book I’ve read? its been ages since i last read a book in full 😔 i honestly dont knwo what the last one would of been 😔 😔

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? yes !!! love it

69: Do I have any nicknames? not anything i get consistently called no

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? ive never gotten super hurt that i can think of ??

71: Do I spend money or save it? save it

72: Can I touch my nose with a tounge? no

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feets from me? doppio bean plush ,,,,

74: Favourite animal? hedgehogs!!!!

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? on my phone probably on tiktok or something waiting for jojo to come on toonami

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? I? dont think he has one i guess ??

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? butterflies by samsa but it makes me happy in the “im crying now” kinda way itss cute

78: How can you win my heart? just by being nice and respectful tbh ,

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? idk i dont really want anything fancy just my name (chosen name please god im so scared of dying and geting my birth name on my tombstone if that happens i WILL come back as a vengeful ghost) and my birth and death dates

80: What is my favorite word? saccharine

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr by my tumblr crushes (which its been YEARS since i looked at) ; frostios, 27names4tears, smollpurrito, happynaru, and warpedlamp

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? if we being real id just get so scared dsjkfsldjglg theres so much i could say i dont know :((

83: Do I have any relatives in jail? not ? that i know of

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? why are all the questions worded super basic except this one skdlskdjfj. Shape shifting

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? i can really think of anything really as long as a friend is asking i tend to answer truthfully ?

86: What is my current desktop picture? Sobble BUT this reminded me that i wanted to change it to a xenoblade pic so its this now :

90: Failed a class? no

91: Kissed a boy? no

92: Kissed a girl? no

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? no but oh god just thinking about that im 🥺🥺🥺🥺 id die id melt 🥺🥺

94: Had job? ye i was a cashier for a year in highschool and then i work in wamlart apparel in the summers

95: Left the house without my wallet? not when I know ill need it no, but ive left it home if im just going to a friend or family member’s house or i have my mom’s card or some cash in my pocket

96: Bullied someone on the internet? no !!

98: Played on a sports team? no lmao i dont do sports

99: Smoked weed? no

100: Did drugs? i had a weed brownie like once but it was such a small piece i didnt really feel anything

101: Smoked cigarettes? no

102: Drank alcohol? Ye

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? not currently i was vegan for a little bit to encourage a friend that was doing it though

104: Been overweight? no

105: Been underweight? no

106: Been to a wedding? yes three, my grandma’s when she got remarried, and both my brothers

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? probably yes lmao often

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? not TV TV but if netflix and the like count then yes

109: Been outside my home country? no :(

110: Gotten my heart broken? not ? really no

111: Been to a professional sports game? ive been to a handful of Yankee games

112: Broken a bone? no

114: Been to prom? yes i went to my highschool’s and a friend’s highschool’s my senior year

115: Been in airplane? no

116: Fly by helicopter? no

117: What concerts have I been to? none :((((

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? ye

119: Learned another language? i took 3 years of Spanish in high school but i wasn’t any good at it and dont really remember much of what i did learn

120: Wore make up? yes i do often :0

123: Dyed my hair? ye a lot

124: Voted in a presidential election? yes ever since iv been old enough to i vote

125: Rode in an ambulance? no

126: Had a surgery? dental surgery yes

127: Met someone famous? Not anyone i’d count no

128: Stalked someone on a social network? depends on what you count as stalking i guess but like not ever in a creepy way like ive been on people’s social media to find out stuff about them like. if theyre in a relationship or especially after highschool ill wonder about someone i havent talked to in awhile and ill see what theyve been up to and what theyre doing with their life and stuff

129: Peed outside? no

130: Been fishing? yes like once

131: Helped with charity? donation wise yes

132: Been rejected by a crush? ive never confessed to anyone and been rejected but once a friend told my crush i liked them and they confronted me about it and rejected me but it made me more mad at the friend that told them than it made me sad about being rejected because i knew it’d probably go like that and it justmade thing awkward between us for awhile 😔

133: Broken a mirror? ive broken the little mirrors inside eyeshadow pallets but i havent broken full ones

134: What do I want for birthday? usually just money lol or something thoughtful and cute

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names? i aggresivly do NOT want kids BUT hypohetically Elliot or Xander for a boy and idk what i’d nam a girl

136: Was I named after anyone? no

137: Do I like my handwriting? its messy so no not really but if im writing something for myself like a not or whatever i dont mind as long as i can read it

138: What was my favourite toy as a child? even as a little kid i always played computer games but other than that, this guy :

139: Favourite Tv Show? Jojo

140: Where do I want to live when older? New york or japan

141: Play any musical instrument? i can kind of play harmonica

142: One of my scars, how did I get it? i burnt my thumb kinda bad on the oven a while ago its still kinda healing but right now it looks like its gonna stay a scar

143: Favourite pizza toping? i like everything/suprieme pizza but if i have to pick one single topping pepperoni

144: Am I afraid of the dark? yes :((

145: Am I afraid of heights? mentioned it earlier but yes if im not strapped in or secured etc

146: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad? no im so scared of being caught doing something bad that i just. dont

147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? i mean yes but thats life babey

149: What my greatest achievments are ive gotten awards for grades and stuff but that boring BUT i got the english department award or whatever that was called im very proud of that

151: What I’d do if I won in a lottery i donate some and save the rest tbh

152: What do I like about myself i can be pretty sometimes 👉👈 im cute or whateva ,,,

153: My closest Tumblr friend i dont really havent “tumblr friends” aside from friends i know irl and also tey have tumblrs ,,

154: Something I fantasise about just. growing up and having my own place maybe with someone and. being comfortable and okay and not having to worry ,,

155: Any question you’d like? dkfjhdskhf japan :000

#ask #mine

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rogah-wrote-gaga · 5 years

Text

since we’ve been together, loving you forever

ao3 link

wordcount: ~1.7k

pairing: roger x reader, john x reader

characters: roger taylor, joe mazzello, john deacon

summary: You could sense John prickling; he tugged at Roger’s arm, muttering something along the lines of “Stop acting like a child. I didn’t bring you here to be babysat.” Roger rolled his eyes before walking into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water from the tap. Joe shot you a worried look and you shook your head, not wanting to cause any tension.

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), but mostly fluff

a/n: merry christmas @la-vie-en-rosuh!! it’s been a pleasure getting to know you and your blog over the past few weeks, and i’m so glad to have gotten you for secret santa. i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it x

taglist: @jennyggggrrr, @queenlover05, @can-i-hear-a-wah00

“I’m home!”

You looked up from your assignment, wincing as you anticipated the inevitable door slam. It didn’t come; your roommate had brought his pals over. “Alright, y/n? Been meaning to pop over for ages.”

You found yourself trapped in his crushing embrace, his overwhelming scent capturing your senses. “Joe!” you cried, unable to keep the grin off your face. Joe had been your best friend since childhood; you crashed at his most nights when you were a teenager. A Christmas Eve catch-up had long since been your tradition.

“Okay, y/n, we get it, no need to fuck him as soon as he comes back. Come and say hello.”

John, your roommate, grinning at his own stupid joke, was gesturing to the other person who had just entered your flat, hands in pockets, idly scanning the room. His wandering eyes finally settled on your face, and you held back a gasp; they were crystal blue.

“Um. Hi,-”

“Roger,” he replied, his voice sounding a little too professional. He cleared his throat and stared at you seriously before reaching out a hand and introducing himself. “Deacy’s colleague.”

You reached forward uncertainly to shake his hand, and was met with thin air as he pulled it back, placed his thumb on his nose, winking with both eyes and waggling his fingers, laughing hysterically all the while. You chuckled awkwardly, slightly confused at the change in demeanour.

You could sense John prickling; he tugged at Roger’s arm, muttering something along the lines of “Stop acting like a child. I didn’t bring you here to be babysat.”

Roger rolled his eyes before walking into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water from the tap. Joe shot you a worried look and you shook your head, not wanting to cause any tension.

The air was cut by Joe, asking how work was going, while you launched into a manic breakdown of your day-to-day routine and how much you hated your new position as a lowly waitress. Roger came strutting back in, only to be met by John’s famous death-stare.

You sneaked a look at them in a break of the conversation. The newcomer also had masses of blond hair, which was currently being tossed about as Roger shook his head. John was hissing at him in a low voice; Roger looked scared and vulnerable.

You had never seen this side of John before; normally he was easy-going and oblivious. He seemed to be laying into Roger as hard as he could without attracting your’s or Joe’s attention.

“Earth to y/n! I said earth to y/n!” You turned back to Joe with a start to find him slowly waving a hand in front of your face. You must have spaced out staring at Roger and John.

“Too busy looking at the pretty new blond? I’ve heard he’s a beast in the bedroom.” Joe looked at you suggestively, smirking.

“How- Why do you even know that?” you exclaimed in a violent whisper.

“I have my sources,” he replied, tapping his nose knowingly, before walking towards John and Roger. “Break it up lads! Yeah, don’t look so shocked, it’s not as though y/n over hear hasn’t been watching your entire little squabble.”

You blushed while Joe laughed; John attempted to give you the death-stare but was intercepted by Joe quite literally dragging him out the door. “I could do with a pint, couldn’t you?”

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This time the door did slam. You made eye-contact with Roger, before forming a sentence.

“So, how’s w-”

“John talks about y-”

You cringed as both of you came to a stop, before gesturing wildly for him to go on.

“Oh, I- I was just gonna say how Deacs talks about you quite a lot, was gonna ask, how long you been together for?”

You blushed yet again, focusing your whole gaze on the hem of your shirt that you were fiddling with. “We’re- We’re not-” you stuttered out, before Roger’s face broke into a look of realisation, followed by an equally as shocked

“Oh.”

You cleared your throat, feeling a sudden urge to explain yourself further. “We’re just roommates, that’s all. I’m very open to relationships right now.” and desperate for a good shag, you muttered under your breath, hoping he would take the hint. After all, you were both alone in your flat. John had just decorated for Christmas, and you were hoping for some mistletoe-related festivities.

Roger’s expression faltered. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” you sighed.

Maybe today wasn’t the day.

But Roger wasn’t just going to let that comment slide.

“I’ll give you a good shag if I’m good enough for you,” He was walking towards you. Your heart jumped in your throat as he leant forward, his breath tickling your cheeks. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

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“I can’t stand that guy,” said John, draining his glass.

“So why’d you bring him over?” enquired Joe quizzically. Both of them were getting steadily drunk in the nearby bar, precariously edging towards the realm of pent-up feelings and intense confessions.

John thought carefully, but only came up with a shrug. “Why don’t you like him? What did he do that could ever even remotely faze the almighty John Deacon?”

“Dunno. Bad vibes.”

Joe spat out his beer.

“Bad vibes?! The only reason you don’t like him is because he has bad fucking vibes?! Do you even know what a vibe is, John?” spluttered Joe, mopping up the table with a crumpled paper tissue.

John shook his head, muttering, "You don't understand."

"Go on then. What could possibly be so mind boggling and advanced that I, Joe Mazzello, couldn't possibly understand?" Joe crossed his arms expectantly, with a self-satisfied, smug expression upon his face.

"It’s...just…" John struggled to form a coherent sentence, before bursting out with, "What if he sleeps with her?!"

A look of incredulity passed briefly across Joe’s face before he regained his composure. “And?” he asked nonchalantly, although he knew exactly what the reason was.

He just needed to hear him say it.

And as he watched John spill his guts out across the dirty table, he knew that he had asked the right question.

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Roger had you up against your bedroom wall, savouring your moans as he bit hickeys into your neck. The pressure made you gasp with excitement, head spinning with desire.

He pushed you onto the bed, before crawling up on top of you, diving in to resume the passionate kissing, one hand on your hip, the other massaging your breasts through John’s sweater.

You let your hand trail down his chest to where his thighs met, hot against your palm. He moaned against your mouth as you struggled to tug his jeans off. He unzipped the sweater, to find you wearing nothing underneath; he pulled down your shorts. The sight of you below him made him growl.

He leant forward, tugging a nipple between his teeth while tracing a lazy trail towards your navel with his hand. He dipped it lower, bringing his fingers achingly close to your clit. He finally slipped a finger into your entrance, sucking at your nipples.

The stimulation had you writhing under him. His mouth started to follow the path that his hand had started, licking and kissing his way down your exposed torso.

“Please, Roger, I want you. I need you.”

His tongue ghosted over your clit, before he hoisted your legs onto his shoulders and buried himself in between your thighs. He sucked passionately at your core, flicking his tongue repeatedly onto your clit, before pulling back slightly to shove two fingers inside of you, drawing out a deep moan from your lips.

He pulled his hand back and forth, fucking you recklessly with his fingers, until your legs were shaking. You screamed his name as you came, and he lay himself over you, holding you through your orgasm. You opened your eyes and he smiled his pearly-white smile, before slinking off to clean you up.

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“Before you get your hopes up, I’m not looking for a long term relationship.”

“Oh?” you responded mindlessly, making two cups of tea with Roger sprawled across the couch. To be honest, neither were you. You were still looking for the right person.

Just then, Joe and John burst in, looking a little worse for wear.

“Y/n!” exclaimed John. “I want- I need to talk to you.” He enunciated his words very clearly, and was staring at you with an intensity you had never seen before.

Wordlessly, you led him back outside, eager to hear what he had to say. But he had seemed to have lost his nerve.

“So, um, how was your time with Rog?” he asked innocently.

“Fine,” you replied, in exactly the same tone, trying not to give anything away. You remembered that John was your best friend; had been so for many years. So why were you hiding things from him? “Actually, I, uh…”

“You…?” he prompted.

“I.. We…” You couldn’t find the right words. Why was this so hard? You shared every single explicit detail of your lives.

“You slept with him.”

The way he said it wasn’t exactly accusatory, but there was a look on his face you’d never seen before; not surprise, more… disappointment.

“Yeah...Well. Kind of.” You mumbled, recalling that you didn’t actually have sex. “M’sorry.” And now you were apologising. Your mouth seemed to be operating independently of your brain.

Slowly, John tilted his head up so his eyes met yours. He looked at you, his gaze naked and vulnerable.

Oh.

You looked at him, picking apart the features of his face that you’d never noticed before. You stared, from his chestnut brown hair, to his perfectly formed lips.

You were in love with him.

You were in love with him. No sooner had that thought crossed your mind, you crossed the distance between you, pressing your mouths together. John let out a squeak of surprise, before settling deeply into the kiss.

You broke away, resting your forehead against his.

He looked into your eyes, voicing your thoughts. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#tgic #queen secret santa #tgic event

16 notes · View notes

vitanes · 5 years

Text

say it’s okay when it’s not

chapter 13: love letter

Lucas doesn’t have a crush on anyone, Eliott paints the mural and something is really wrong but Lucas can’t figure out what.

(a/n: i passed all my exams! n im back! enjoy! tw: mental health issues)

“Okay, but what do you think about this one? Isn’t he cute?” Mika asks, shoving his phone in front of Lucas’ face.

They are sprawled out on the couch and Mika is half-lying on top of Lucas, entertaining himself with some dating app while Lucas is trying to focus on whatever is playing on the TV. It’s needless to say he’s unsuccessful.

He sighs and glances at the screen. There’s a smiling guy looking back at him, wearing a snapback backwards and flexing his muscles. Shirtless.

Lucas looks sceptically at Mika and raises an eyebrow at him.

“He’s okay, I guess. I didn’t know you were into frat boys,” Lucas says, letting his eyes wander back to the TV.

“Have you seen those abs? I’m easy. Besides, he liked me first. I thrive off flattery,” Mika replies cockily, a smirk audible in his voice. He shifts a couple of centimetres up, digging his elbow into Lucas’ side in the process. It takes all of Lucas’ willpower not to push him off.

He groans. “What an attention whore.”

“Just a Leo,” Mika says with a snort. Lucas rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. He thinks the discussion is over and gets back to the movie just for Mika to poke him in the cheek. He glares at him.

“What.”

“Why don’t you set up an account somewhere?” Mika asks with excitement in his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because apps like that aren’t for minors? And call me old-fashioned but I’d rather not meet someone online.” Lucas is a romantic at heart and there’s nothing more like simply wanting to meet eyes with a boy and instantly knowing it’s the one. It’s more magical than asking some strangers for hook-ups on the Internet.

Mika eyes him with pity and pats the top of Lucas’ head. “I wish it was that simple,” he murmurs and goes back to his phone, this time with much more serious expression.

He’s probably thinking that Lucas is naïve and perhaps he’s right, but Lucas is pretty sure he’s allowed to be when he’s still a kid. Something in the way Mika’s eyebrows are drawn together tells Lucas that he knows it, too.

Lucas watches him for a good minute, digging his fingers into the cushions of the couch. They’ve never talked about this stuff without having it written off as a joke, but Lucas is curious. He doesn’t know that much about Mika, although a part of him wants to.

“Hey… have you ever been in love?” he asks. With how closely Lucas is watching Mika, he notices the exact second he stops in his tracks for a moment, caught off guard by Lucas’ question.

Eventually, he quietly replies, “Yeah. Once.”

“How did it end?”

“Badly.” Mika looks up at Lucas, sending his way a sad smile. “Not sure I’ll ever get over it, but,” he shrugs one shoulder, “life goes on. Can’t move forward if I keep being stuck in the past, can I?” There’s something really raw and honest on Mika’s face. It’s the first time Lucas is seeing him like this and he wants to say something, catch this moment and hold it for a while, but Mika has different plans. The lines on his face smoothen out and this split second of vulnerability is gone before Lucas can even process it. “Guess who’s got a date tomorrow,” Mika changes the topic. He winks at Lucas and looks back at his phone.

He seems carefree, but Lucas can feel that the tension still hasn’t left his body. Lucas idly wonders how lonely and hurt Mika must be. It’s a bit tragic and contradictory, given his personality. Lucas hopes the same won’t happen to him.

“By the way, what about you?” Mika asks, this time not glancing away from his phone, already engrossed in the guy he’s talking to.

“What about me?” Lucas replies, confused.

“Any crushes?” Mika wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

“No, there’s no one,” Lucas says just as his own phone vibrates. He pulls it out of his pocket and unlocks the screen. He smiles under his nose, his fingers already tapping out a reply.

“Who’s that?” Lucas can feel Mika’s eyes on the side of his face, but this time it’s him who doesn’t look up.

“Eliott,” he says, biting down on his bottom lip when Eliott sends out another message.

Mika makes a weird noise next to him. “Okaaay,” he draws out, uncertain, but Lucas pays him no mind.

***

The mural is standing big and proud before Lucas’ eyes, but he can’t believe in what he’s seeing. Neither can any of them, really, although Lucas’ case is special.

It was a usual Monday morning. They all met up before school, noting Eliott’s absence but being already used to it. They didn’t think anything of it aside from a bit of concern. Then, Emma texted Yann to quickly come to the common room. It’s needless to say they weren’t very excited about it, given the circumstances, but eventually, they went there. What met them once they arrived, was rather unexpected. And still is.

Eliott has painted the whole mural.

“W–when have you done it?” Arthur stutters out in disbelief.

“Today morning,” Eliott replies simply, threading his fingers through his hair. There’s paint all over him, whole mixes of colours creating galaxies over his skin. Despite that, Lucas can’t look away from the painting.

“It’s eight in the morning,” Basile states dumbly.

“I came here after four,” Eliott says like it’s nothing.

“Wait, you broke in?” Imane asks cautiously. There’s something in her voice that Lucas can’t put a name to.

Eliott snorts. “No, I told the night guard that it’s for the project and he let me in,” Eliott explains as if the mere idea of him breaking in was absurd.

“Just like that?” Alexia asks doubtfully.

There’s a pause and then, “Took me some begging, but yeah.” He sounds sheepish.

“How did you manage to make it look like that? It should take you much longer,” Yann says in awe.

“I was suddenly really inspired.”

Lucas has barely blinked ever since he walked in. He hasn’t said anything either. He’s not sure he will be able to utter anything coherent. Eliott told him about some surprise over the texts, but Lucas sure as fuck didn’t suspect something like that.

There are crazy splashes of colours all over the place, but in the centre are two silhouettes, painted in black, clearly dancing, holding onto one another, one of them hiding their face in the other’s neck. Lucas gulps when his eyes fall on the words scribbled around the dancers.

In case you ever foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you.

Lucas can’t take his eyes off it because he knows how easy to read he’d be then.

Despite the chaotic colours surrounding the two characters, they are shielding each other. It feels personal, private. Lucas wants to reach out and trace the lines of the taller silhouette, but he can’t since the paint is still wet. The longer he looks at the exact moment Eliott has confessed to him, the more out of breath he is.

Eliott has painted him a love letter for everyone to see and Lucas doesn’t know what to think about it.

Eliott said he didn’t expect anything from him, but does it still stand? Is it just a selfless expression of his feelings? Then why use that quote? Why expose such an intimate moment between them?

Someone taps him on the shoulder, startling him and he flinches. He looks to the side and Eliott is right there, looking anxiously everywhere but at Lucas and having this expectant glint in his eyes.

Lucas briefly glances at others, who are still admiring the painting, and then back at Eliott.

“Do you like it?” Eliott asks, finally looking up at Lucas. They both know what it means, this whole mural, but neither of them is ready to acknowledge it. Lucas because he has no idea what to say about it while Eliott is probably too shy.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful. But…” he lowers his voice, leaning closer to Eliott, “…I thought that you didn’t want. Because of, you know.” Lucas nods subtly towards Daphne.

Eliott scratches the side of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t do it for her,” he says, staring at Lucas meaningfully. The implication of his words makes Lucas speechless.

Thank God, he’s saved from replying by Arthur coming up to them and throwing his arms around their shoulders. Coincidentally bringing them pretty close together.

“Wow, it’s amazing, dude,” he says, grinning.

Yeah, Lucas thinks, it really is.

***

Lucas is pretty lost. He’s got no idea how to act around Eliott after what he’s done. He can’t confront him about it, but he also can’t forget. Eliott’s feelings are out in the open, almost in Lucas’ hands and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt him. Lucas has already had enough on his plate, mostly focusing on finding the blackmailer. But now, he can’t stop thinking about the painting. It’s been two days and it’s almost the only thing on his mind.

Eliott must have sensed something is up because he’s been more tentative around Lucas. Maybe he’s only now realising how grand his gesture was. How they can’t simply brush it off like they did with his confession.

Or maybe it’s all in Lucas’ head. Perhaps it’s only him mulling it over endlessly while everyone else has already moved on.

Arthur snapped a picture of the mural, in case someone decided to paint over it. Lucas has saved it.

And maybe that’s the issue. Because it’s for him, it was painted for him and belongs to him, but everyone else can look at it. Maybe that bothers him more than Eliott going out of his way to remind him about his feelings. It’s the fact it was supposed to be theirs. The moment of the confession, the time it was Eliott who was vulnerable and clinging onto Lucas and not the other way around. In a way, it brought them even closer than they were before. It was an important moment for both of them, but while Lucas would rather keep it deep within himself, Eliott is an artist, ready to let the whole world know.

It could also be the fact no one has ever thought of Lucas like that, done such a thing. He’s always thinking of himself lowly and there Eliott is, making him feel big. It’s a bit scary and confusing. This whole situation is like that. Lucas isn’t used to it. He’s a bit overwhelmed. He’s pretty sure that if Eliott had painted this on a small canvas and gave it to him, he wouldn’t be gnawing on it as much now. As it is at the moment, all Lucas wants to do is hide between his sheets.

The funny thing is that he shouldn’t feel that embarrassed by the fact other people can see the mural. They don’t know that it’s about Eliott and him. No one probably even suspects it because they never gave people the reason to think otherwise. But the sole fact that Lucas knows is enough for him to blush each time he passes the common room.

Besides, people aren’t stupid. Sure, they may not connect anything to him. Figuring out Eliott has someone he painted it for, though, is inevitable. Lucas doesn’t really want people to bother him about it.

On the other hand, Eliott must have taken that into account and he still decided to make it.

God, Lucas’ head is a mess. Complete mess. He doesn’t have time to dwell on this teenage angst, there are more concerning matters in his life.

He’s been trying to find a lead on the blackmailer without actually talking to Daphne(or Imane for that matter) for the past week. He put so much effort into going through people’s social media, spending sleepless nights in hopes he would find the answers. He hasn’t been sure what exactly he was looking for; a picture, maybe, where Daphne is with someone sketchy. But no matter how deep he’s been digging, there was nothing.

When he was at the police station he talked about this and yeah, it’s a crime that someone could be punished for, but they’ve found out the number that sent the messages was bought, generated. The case was still registered, but they can’t do anything. They asked Lucas all kinds of questions, like if he had some enemies or whether he knew someone who could benefit from this situation, but his mind was completely blank. Devoid of suspects.

He wants revenge and justice and yet, he’s pretty sure he reached the dead-end. His gut is telling him to give up and finally focus on school, but his resolve is making him want to fight more.

In the grand scheme of things, this problem seems much more engaging that Eliott and his mural. Try telling it to a sixteen-year-old and his brain, though.

God, when will Lucas get some rest?

***

Lucas hasn’t been avoiding Imane, per se, but he’s been trying not to be with her alone ever since he asked her about Daphne. He can’t really avoid her anyway, no matter how hard he tries they do have a class together and share a desk. Much to Lucas’ surprise, though, Imane doesn’t try to corner him as soon as he sits down. That’s what he expected, given how every time they were in the same room she’d send him questioning looks. But now she only glances up at him and greets him before going back to her textbook.

It’s almost unnerving and so not like her to give up on finding the truth. Unless she forgot or decided it wasn’t worth her time. She, after all, is the one who has her priorities straight and unlike other people, she doesn’t push when she realises it won’t get her anywhere.

Lucas is almost disappointed. Not because he wanted to be bugged about his business, but because of how he tried to stay away from Imane and was dreading their shared class for the past few days, despite the fact he enjoys it. In the end it was all for nothing. At least that’s the conclusion he reaches as he starts taking books out of his backpack.

“I know,” Imane says ominously and Lucas looks at her, frowning.

“Hm?”

“Daphne told me,” Imane explains, her tone pinched. Her eyes are glued to her notebook when she says the next words, “I’d expect a lot from her, but not this, you know? She started crying while telling me and I had no idea what to say because I couldn’t feel any sympathy for her. Does it make sense?” Imane asks, meeting Lucas’ eyes. She seems apologetic even if none of this is her fault.

“Yeah, it does,” Lucas replies.

“And she only told me. I don’t know why.”

“I’m sorry she put you in this position.” Quite fucked up that Daphne just can’t tell everyone and let them make their decision, but only bothered with him and Imane, having them be left with this dilemma.

“She trusted me with this, but it’s so,” she shakes her head. “I can’t really act around her like before. And I feel responsible in a way. Because she’s my friend.” Imane puts a hand over her forehead and closes her eyes, visibly frustrated.

“But you aren’t her babysitter,” Lucas counters.

“Yeah, but if I was with her back then I could’ve stopped her. I was sober, she wasn’t.”

It’s good that the teacher still hasn’t come, otherwise, their conversation would have been cut short. Considering that Imane feels guilty, Lucas needs to prove to her that she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“But she isn’t five and if she can’t act normally when drunk, she shouldn’t go near alcohol. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s just fucking shitty she expects you to pick a side now,” Lucas says, curling his fingers up into fists. God, he’s angry again. Why can’t Daphne be decent for like five minutes?

“I asked her to tell the girls but I don’t know. I hope that she will try to do better in the future,” Imane says and sighs deeply. Yeah, one can only wait for Daphne to grow, learn a lesson. Lucas just wishes it didn’t have to happen with him being fucked over in the process.

“We will see,” Lucas comments, pursing his lips. Imane peeks an eye open.

“I know it’s not much but I’ve been thinking about it a lot and the only thing I could remember was that some guy called me from Daphne’s phone, asking me to pick her up. He could have been the one to steal the pictures. She was alone when I got to her,” Imane says and Lucas can feel the blood rushing in his ears. She’s right it’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever gotten. If only Daphne hadn’t been so wasted, he could ask her if she remembered something. Fuck.

“She didn’t tell you if it was someone random or a friend?” Lucas asks, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

“No. She was nearly passed out when I found her. I doubt she’d even remember she asked someone to call. Could be anyone. Sorry that I can’t help more,” Imane says, glancing down in resignation.

“It’s okay,” Lucas replies just as the teacher walks into the classroom.

The whole situation is messed up but Imane is the last person Lucas would even consider blaming. He tells her just as much when the class is finished and she hugs him so tightly he’s pretty sure his ribs would be broken if she put any more strength into it.

***

It’s the middle of the night and Lucas knows it only because his phone is persistently buzzing, waking him up in the process. He blindly reaches out for the device and blinks a couple of times, the light hurting his eyes. The first thing he notices is that it’s after 3 AM and the second – it’s Eliott calling him. Lucas frowns. Odd.

“’ello?” he answers, barely containing a yawn.

“Did I wake you?” Eliott asks. His voice seems muffled.

“I mean… it’s pretty late.” Lucas rubs a hand over his eyes and lies on his back. “Somethin’ happen?”

“Just wanted to hear you. I was actually thinking I could visit you, but decided against it. What would Mika say if I stayed the night, right?” Eliott jokes and gets a snort our of Lucas.

“It’s flattering, but you’re gonna hear me tomorrow,” Lucas says dumbly.

“Yeah, but I just had to. Sorry.”

“’s okay,” Lucas slurs. “You got me worried,” he explains, sighing.

“I can’t turn my brain off, my ex has been an ass about it. I thought that maybe you could help a little,” Eliott says quietly, especially the last part, almost as if he didn’t want Lucas to hear it.

Lucas ignores the whole ex thing and focuses on the rest. Insomnia? Lucas has some experience with that. There’s nothing quite like the chaos in your head and feeling like a living corpse during the day because you haven’t slept properly in days.

“How can I help?” Lucas offers.

“I don’t know. It’s always peaceful with you. Maybe I just don’t want to be alone when I’m like this.”

How can Eliott say things like that and expect Lucas to ignore it?

Lucas clears his throat. “Like what? You can’t sleep, it’s okay, remember it’s not the end of the world even if it feels like it,” Lucas says, hoping it will calm Eliott down.

Eliott lets out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah. I just have a lot of energy, I guess. I think I’ll go for a run.”

Lucas arches an eyebrow at that. Who would go for a run so late? He can’t imagine doing that no matter how restless he’d be. But each to their own, he supposes.

“’kay. Sorry for not being the best help,” Lucas says, genuinely apologetic.

“You are the best. Period. Okay, sleep well. See you later,” Eliott says and without waiting for Lucas to reply, he hangs up.

Lucas puts his phone down and settles comfortably on the bed, unable to shake off a weird feeling. He drags his hand down the empty side of his bed and sighs. He falls asleep thinking that maybe Eliott being here wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

***

“So, how was the run?” Lucas asks when they’re all seated by their table in the cafeteria. He woke up still feeling weird and had to check his calls to see whether he hasn’t dreamed of it, but no, Eliott really called him in the middle of the night. Had he been more awake, he’d have stopped Eliott from doing whatever he’s done.

Everyone, including Eliott, sends him questioning looks, but Lucas pays them no mind, solely focusing his gaze on Eliott. It takes a few seconds, but the realisation eventually dawns upon Eliott and he opens his mouth.

“It was good. Feeling sore, though,” he says, grinning towards Lucas. “I’ve been studying for my exams,” Eliott changes the topic, digging into his potatoes. “The material is so hard, but I’m sort of getting it. I read so many books in the last few days I feel like my head’s about to explode.”

“Explode with knowledge!” Basile jokes and Eliott bursts out laughing before launching into a story he’s read online recently.

He gets a little lost halfway through and changes the topic again. The guys indulge him, but Lucas can’t help feeling uneasy. He squints his eyes. Eliott is too jumpy for some reason.

Maybe it’s his ex-girlfriend that he mentioned during their phone call? Lucas doesn’t even know their story so who knows how much effect she can have on him. Or it’s about the exams that are looming over them. Whatever it is, something tells Lucas it’s not good. He wishes he could help Eliott calm down, talk with him, but Eliott seems so far away. He’s so close yet completely out of reach. From the very beginning of the week, since the mural.

What if it’s Lucas’ fault? Eliott is nervous because Lucas hasn’t said anything about it, quite literally decided to ignore what Eliott’s done. But then again, it’d go against him telling Lucas that he didn’t want anything from him.

Lucas could just ask, but he isn’t sure Eliott would tell him. There’s only one thing Lucas is certain of – something is bothering Eliott.

Someone waves a hand in front of Lucas’ face, snapping him out of his thoughts. He jumps and realises that when he zoned out, he was literally staring at Eliott. Which, given Arthur’s suspicions from the last week, doesn’t put him in the best position.

“You okay?” Yann asks, a line of worry appearing between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, just thinking,” he says, shrugging. He’s trying to come off as cool despite being caught staring at one of them. Lucas isn’t sure how well it goes, but no one comments on his weird behaviour.

Eliott throws a French fry at him and it smacks Lucas straight on the nose. “Don’t think too much or you’ll end up like me,” he says and winks at him.

Lucas tilts his head to the side. What does that even mean?

“Anyways, okay, guys, what about we chill tomorrow a bit? In the park? It’s been a while since we spent Friday together,” Basile suggests, grinning at them eagerly.

Yeah, it sounds nice. Considering all the turmoil Lucas has been through, it really has been some time since he simply relaxed with his friends. Sure, there were brief moments but nothing like what they’d do usually.

“Sounds pretty good. I think I have some weed stashed somewhere. I could bring it,” Arthur says excitedly.

“Tomorrow after school?” Yann asks them and they all nod.

Lucas is still concerned about Eliott so maybe tomorrow will be also a good occasion to check if everything is alright. Smoking could loosen Eliott up and make him talk a bit.

***

Lucas takes a drag and passes the joint to Basile. He releases the smoke after holding it in and leans back against the grass. He can literally feel the tension leaving his body. He hadn't realised how much he’s needed it up until now.

They are lying around in a secluded area of the park, save from any prying eyes. Free to do whatever they want for as long as they need to. They’re on their second joint and sure, having it shared between five people won’t be as effective as it normally would be, but Lucas still feels much lighter.

It’s mostly quiet aside from music playing from Arthur’s phone. They don’t talk much despite Lucas having wanted to get some information out of Eliott. He thinks that maybe later. At the moment, he feels like taking a nap. Or just staring at the sky. It’s really fucking blue today and the weather is warm. They chose a great day to hang out.

Lucas sighs heavily just as Eliott plops down next to him. Lucas turns his head to the side and meets his eyes. Lucas’ fingertips itch to move Eliott’s fringe away from his eyes, but he keeps his hand to himself. It’s a weird thought to have about your friend.

“What’s up?” Lucas asks and when Eliott does nothing but look at him, Lucas nudges him in the side.

“You look pretty like that,” Eliott blurts out, his eyes glinting and Lucas’ breath hitches in his throat. He looks around to see if any of the guys has heard it, but no one seems to have paid attention.

Lucas lets out a nervous chuckle, ignoring the warmth climbing up his neck. “Thanks,” he mutters, his eyes settling on some random spot on Eliott’s t-shirt.

Eliott shuffles even closer to him. “Can I hold your hand?”

Lucas bites on the inside of his cheek, his heart speeding up for some reason. Why’s he feeling so lightheaded all of sudden? Must be the weed. What else?

“Yeah,” he breathes out, inching his palm towards Eliott. It doesn’t have any meaning. They do hold hands sometimes for comfort. Lucas has held hands with plenty of his friends.

Eliott grabs Lucas’ palm in his and entwines their fingers together. He squeezes once and Lucas’ heart skips a beat.

Lucas closes his eyes in order not to look at Eliott’s face. He’s scared of what it could make him feel.

“I’m so happy I could die right now,” Eliott whispers.

Lucas snorts. “What?”

“I don’t think I could be happier than this. Dying would be the best option at the moment so that would be the last feeling in my life. And I’d die next to you,” Eliott says, his thumb rubbing the back of Lucas’ hand.

“What? Don’t say something like that,” Lucas replies, half-heartedly hitting Eliott in the chest with his free hand.

Eliott lets out a laugh. “Sorry,” he pauses. “How many Lucases and Eliotts are lying down like that now?”

Lucas hums thoughtfully and settles on, ”Probably a lot.”

Eliott huffs and Lucas can feel him shaking his head. “All of them,” he says, convinced.

“Why’re you asking if you know the answer?”

“Because I wanted to know yours,” Eliott replies, honesty audible in his voice.

Lucas doesn’t say anything to this because he has no idea which words would be fitting. The mood is too nice for him to open his mouth and ruin it. So he stays quiet, breathing Eliott’s smell in and slowly feeling himself drift off. He doesn’t even register the moment Eliott disappears from beside him.

***

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Lucas hears through the fog in his mind. Someone shakes his shoulders, but it’s not the same person who spoke. The voice is more distant, that’s how he knows it’s not towards him.

Lucas blinks his eyes open. The first thing he notices is that it’s darker than he remembers from before he fell asleep. The second is Arthur hovering over him, his expression tense.

“Something bad is happening with Eliott,” he whispers, reaching his hand up to help Lucas sit up.

“What?” Lucas asks after being hoisted up. His eyes immediately jump towards where he can hear quiet murmurs from. Eliott looks barely present, with an almost haunted look on his face. Basile and Yann are crouching on both of his sides, talking to him, but barely getting any responses.

“After you fell asleep he started being really jittery, kept walking around. At first, we brushed it off, but it kept getting worse and worse. We had to stop him from running off,” Arthur explains as they walk up to where the three boys are.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Lucas asks, keeping his eyes on Eliott.

“It started getting really bad like ten to fifteen minutes ago,” Yann says.

They had more things to keep their eyes on than thinking of waking Lucas up. Understandable.

Basile is still talking to Eliott, trying to keep him grounded. Eliott’s replies are quiet and chaotic. Something is off about this situation and Lucas is pretty sure that four stoned teenagers won’t be able to deal with it well if it keeps escalating.

“We should call his parents,” Lucas says.

“Yeah. If it’s what I think it is, we better do that,” Basile says, his voice full of seriousness.

Lucas gulps, watching Eliott, and his heart breaks. He should have seen it coming sooner.

#elu #elu fanfic #elu fic #skam france #skam france fic #skam france fanfic #lucas x eliott #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant

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