#also working in between writing my other 10 page paper

[low-sodium-sri-rachaa]

rant because I need to blow off steam

[mythrilthread]

My magnum opus, the jewel of my Binderary round-up, the result of four months of hard work (that is to say, a lot of force applied over distance), the project affectionately known as The Motherfuckers (because it was rather unclear if I was going to finish these books or if they were going to be the end of me).

Force over Distance by cleanwhiteroom. It is currently also on AO3.

I was first introduced to this incredible story by a dear friend, who first sold me on actually watching SGU, and then said that they remember this fic since like 2011, which is always a promising sign. I went digging and found out I was in luck - the story was being rewritten and reuploaded on the author's blog. The next two weeks are described by the same friend as "one of the scariest moments in our cohabitation" as I'd spent literally every waking moment injecting the story directly into my eyeballs, and let me tell you, I'd not been doing a lot of sleeping at that time.

Then I gathered up my courage and reached out to CWR re: my burning desire to bind this story. And the rest, well. Let's dig into it, shall we?

This was my first time typesetting 540k words. Considering I tend to prefer larger font sizes for increased legibility, it was immediately obvious that this was going to be a multivolume project. I settled on three, as it's the relationship between three individuals that forms the core of the story.

I also knew I wanted to keep the typeset in black and white, but play around with light and dark a lot. So I did. One of the first design idea I actually had was the way I wanted to handle projected speech. Mental link between Young, Rush and Destiny is THE most vital part of the story, and I wanted to make it immediatly obvious. I also wanted to be able to take one glance at the page and tell how much of the action is actually just two guys staring each other down :) Hence the blackout effect of thoughts being represented as light over darkness.

I also wanted to preserve as much of my reading experience as possible. So I saved all the chapter quotes/summaries in the TOC, and hid the chapter content warnings in the frame of the gate that marks the beginning of each chapter. For most of the chapter the warnings stay the same, so after a while you stop really noticing them, but then you open a new chapter and see that the familiar shape of the words has changed, and get this UH-OH feeling. Which, I think is very much how it works in my design, because when the warnings change there's usually another line of text added.

For flashbacks and dream sequences I switched from italics to a lighter shade of gray. I woudn't say it's more legible per say, but it's in keeping with the overall light/dark theme.

There are instances of people using handwritten notes in the story. I collected more than a dozen of assorted handwriting fonts, with each character having their own "handwriting". So when, for example, someone begins writing in someone else's hand, you immediately know it.

The most insane, labor-intensive part of the typeset, however, was the way I decided to handle the Ancient translations. CWR's gone through the trouble of setting up hover-to-discover for it, which gives you a very different reading experience than, say, having the translations in the endnotes. So, naturally, I said to myself that I want to replicate that, and footnotes just won't do the trick. So. Every instance of Ancient in the text has an underlay of light gray Ancient script. And an OVERLAY of paper vellum with the translation printed in blue. Now, not to toot my own horn too much, but if looks SICK AS FUCK. You also MAYBE SHOULD NOT LIVE LIKE THIS. For the two copies of this work I had to cut up 10 sheets of vellum into strips, and then spent from 20 minutes to an hour per volume tipping the strips in their proper places. I then had to wear kinetic tape on both my hands to help with the joint pain. (It was worth it.)

Now for the title spread. It is also paper vellum that you see as soon as you turn the first page (the half-title), and see it covering the title of the book and author's name. And then you turn it. And the shields sing the matter wave of Destiny through the black. And yeah, I think that's very, very clever of me, actually.

Then, of course, were the endpapers. All 12 of them are unique abstract paintings done on black cardstock by hand with brush pens and correction tape, I scanned a sample of each set for posterity. All of them are my interpretations of characters' midscapes. For volume 1 I went with the fire wind of Rush's thoughts. Volume 2 was for Young, and I went for the reverse blackout poetry effect (because for all the mental talking they do, the unprojected thoughts are opaque to their counterparts) and all the loops, hairpins and blocks he does. Volume 3 is for the combination - Rush's fire wind, changing its color to match the circuitry pattern of Destiny's AI.

The rest, in comparison, is easy. All volumes are stitched with 3 strands of embroidery floss, a combination of black, blue and silvery-gray. The French double-core endbands are sewn in the same color scheme (though with a different shade of blue and gray switched for white for added contrast). The edges are painted and splattered to look like space.

The covers feature my (signature at this point, I guess) half-cloth river pattern, with the base being dark blue linen and the printed parts being Spitzer telescope images of the W51 star forge, Jack-O'-Lantern Nebula and the Eagle Nebula (courtesy of NASA), waxed by hand for added sheen. The spines are foiled in silver with a foil quill.

Each set is 5 pound of solid hand-crafted book, with one set being my personal copy, and the other sent as a gift to the author.

And that's it, folks! This has been an incredible project to work on, and I'm very proud of what I achieved with it.

[guitarstringed-scars]

how to lose a guy in 10 days- t. oikawa

masterlist

day zero

you sit in the paper room, editing every last one of your pages for this weeks paper. your pages are filled with advice. “what to do if i caught my boyfriend cheating on me, and he doesn’t know i know?”, “how to make new friends in college?”, “what can i do if my best friend from back home is ghosting me?”. as you read over them, you feel a slight sense of pride about how many people you’ve helped with your advice. i mean, the reviews are glowing. you cant walk on campus without someone coming up to you and commending you on your column, but you also feel a slight sense of embarrassment.

you wish you were out like your roommate, koushi, writing about the actual news around the school, or your other roommate, tetsuro, covering sports events.

your thoughts are interrupted when your fourth and final roommate, yui michimiya, slams open the door to the room. she's crying, you notice quickly, due to her loud sobs. she quickly crosses the room to her designated seat next to you and throws herself into it as the other club members rush around her.

“whats wrong yui?” you ask, helping her unpack her computer from her bag.

“he dumped me!” she exclaims before her sobs grow louder. you shoot a look to hitoka as yui buries her head in your shoulder.

“what’d he say?” tetsuro asks, making himself comfortable in the seat next to her. that guy loves gossip so it’s no surprise he’s there as soon as he hears a snippet of it.

“he said it wasn’t working!” she burrows deeper into your shirt, you can feel her damp tears, and hopefully not snot, hit your shoulder.

“and what did you say?” keiji asks, not even looking up from his computer. you’ve all heard this story from yui plenty of times before.

“w-well, i dropped to my knees and begged him to stay! i said, honey-muffin, please you cant do this to me! please please please-”

you cut her off, as the other present club members sigh, most of them returning to their work, except for tetsuro.

“and you were dating for how long?” you ask.

“um…. about 2 and a half weeks.”

you stare at her, with a disappointed look.

“oh y/n i didn't even think i was ugly until i got to college and now i just keep getting back to back dumped because of it!”

“i don’t think its cause of your looks yui.” tetsuro answers, before turning back to his work.

“hes right, its defientely not because of your looks. and i mean this in the sweetest way, but i think it may be the way you act.” you look at her with a nervous grin.

she cocks her head at you, “what?”

“i mean, don’t you think maybe… just maybe its because of how clingy you might be? i mean especially after 2 weeks…” you trail off, careful not to upset your best friend.

surprisingly she answers cheerfully, “no, that cant be it!”

you let out yet another sigh before it hits you. maybe you could help out yui with an article.

“how bout this, i’ll write a column for you, to prove its not because of your looks.” you stand up and approach shimizu and keiji as they talk over their pages.

“hello bosses!” you greet, they don’t turn to you. “i was thinking of doing a how to, on how to lose a guy in 10 days. thoughts? it’ll help people know what NOT to do in a relationship!” you give them your cheesiest grin, and they dismiss you with a simple “sure, do that.”

with that lackluster approval, you head back to your seat, pulling out a notebook. in big letters at the top, HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS. below that, THE PLAN!

step one: find a guy

step two: get him interested

step three: be the worst

step four: he breaks up with me in less than 10 days

yui looks over your shoulder as you write. “well lets go find a guy tonight, we should do roommate party night anyway! i need to get over my breakup…”

you smile, “great plan!”

toru oikawa is standing in the middle of the bar, surronded by the rest of his volleyball team, give or take a few.

“i mean between oikawa and me, im defienitely easier to fall in love with.” atsumu miya protests.

“yeah right, i could make any girl fall in love with me.” toru retorts back

“you wanna bet on it?” daichi throws out.

“sure. lets add some stakes. i could make any girl fall in love with me in less than 10 days.” toru smirks after saying this. as he leans on the counter, he spots a girl from across the bar. shes beautiful, he thinks. “her. i’ll make her fall in love with me in less than 10 days.” he points her out in the crowd.

“her?” koutaro exclaims, “she’s wayyy too pretty for you!” the boys all burst out laughing.

toru simply rolls his eyes. “watch and see!” with that he waltz over to her. to you.

“toru oikawa.” he smiles, putting out his hand to be shaken.

“i know who you are, i’m y/n l/n” you smile, shaking his hand.

“oh really?” he says, leaning in closer to hear you, ears ringing from the loud music playing.

“yeah, you play volleyball.” you laugh, “thats where my knowledge of you ends though.”

toru laughs with you. “don’t worry, you can have the chance to learn more at any time.”

“was that a pickup line?” you quirk your eyebrow at him.

“possibly.”

“how bout you walk me home tonight, and then tomorrow you can start using those pick up lines?”

"works for me.”

a/n: first chapter woohooo!!! theres a lot of writing in this, but more smau in future chapters, just gotta get the basis down! also taglist will be in the replies because it is NOT working for some reason.

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 8

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: An unexpected family member reveal sends you spiraling, will anyone trust you now?

Warnings: Angst that turns into fluff, mention of violence, mention of sex

Word Count 2.6k

A/N: I was dying writing this chapter (both physically and mentally) but I think the writers block is gone! Thank you for 600 followers!! As always, love u guys, and tell me what you think <33

“Mom, who’s my dad?” You asked absentmindedly, legs swinging from your living room couch.

“All the other kids at school know who their dad is, who’s mine?” You continued, blissfully unaware of the tension you had just created.

Your mom turned sharply, cigarette between her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, sweetie. Your dad’s gone. It’s just you and me now.” She said as she brought the lighter up and ignited the cigarette.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” You’d asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Your mom lets out a frustrated huff before she answers again.

“I don’t know, he’s just gone. Okay? He left town. Would you leave this topic alone now?” She sounded annoyed, and you don’t want to upset her any further, so you nodded quickly and turned your attention back to the TV screen.

“Okay, Ma.”

-

You flash back into another memory, this time you’re older; freshly graduated from high school, ready to move across the country to start university.

You’ve bid your farewells to friends and relatives, promising you’ll come visit every year.

Your mom’s pulling you aside looking at you weirdly. She’s getting old, you can tell by the increasing wrinkles on her face every day.

She smiles softly, and you think she looks like the sweetest grandma ever.

“Honey, I want you to know something. About your dad.”

You raise an eyebrow, mouth dropping slightly.

Your dad has always been a touchy subject for your mom, she’s never really allowed herself to tell you the full story.

Sure, as you’ve gotten older, you’ve learned bits and pieces. He was a dirtbag, leaving your mom right after she gave birth. You’d also learned that you were born in a small town called Woodsboro but had been whisked away almost immediately.

Your mom sighs now, and everything suddenly feels very heavy.

“I just tried so hard to be both parents for you, I know it wasn’t fair to keep this from you for so long. But if you’re ready to learn who your dad is, I’m ready to tell.” She says, voice cracking only the tiniest bit. You can see how strong she’s trying to be.

You suddenly see your whole childhood flash before your eyes. Your mom sending you off and picking you up every day after school. Making meals for the two of you every night, working overtime to support the family.

“No Ma. It’s okay. I already have a dad, and his name is you.” You say, pointing to her heart.

She opens her mouth but you cut in before she can say anything.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need a dad when I have you.” You say, and you mean it wholeheartedly.

Your mother swells with happiness and takes you in a big hug. Wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Be safe, honey.” She whispers into your ear.

-

You splutter, staring at the page in front of you with a jumble of letters that don’t look like coherent words anymore.

No…it couldn’t be?

There’s no way your dad was Stu Fucking Macher.

It doesn’t feel like you expected it would, finding out who your real father is. Years and years of endless crying; wondering why and why and why.

Every moment has led up to this.

This light, breakable paper in your palms. It’s telling you all you’ve ever wanted to hear, and yet somehow it’s also the thing you need to hear the least.

There’s quick flashes of déjà vu as you stare at the name.

Blood; lots of it. Splattered on the ceiling, all over your body. Screams, loud and clear as day, piercing through your eardrums and starting a ringing sound.

You snap back into reality as Sam steps up to you.

You brace yourself for the worse, you wouldn’t be mad if Sam kicked you out bare into the street right then and there, hell, she could hurt you and you wouldn’t even be mad.

She raises her hand but the impact never comes. Instead, she kneels down to you and holds your shoulders tight.

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard.” She says, soft. Her lips are pulled into a frown but her eyes are sorrowful.

“It’s- it’s okay?” Tara splutters, staring between you and her sister. Flabbergasted would be a minuet way to describe her expression.

“Yes. It’s okay. Can everyone leave the room for a minute? I want to talk to YN.” Sam says, and everyone heeds her orders; shuffling down through the living room hallway.

You stare at Sam, eyebrows knit tight together. She’s hated you since you the day you met, and now she’s the one protecting you?

“Why?” You ask, curiosity seeping through your voice.

“Everyone here has been through something.” She says, biting her lip. “And believe me, if anyone knows about being framed as the bad guy, it’s me.”

She hesitates a little before she opens her mouth again.

“Let’s not pretend that everyone here doesn’t have immensely traumatic things happen to them. Me and Tara…well we know about that. But Mindy and Anika and Chad? You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard from them.” She says, twiddling with her thumbs.

“What if I’m actually the killer?” You press, gauging Sam’s reaction.

She tuts and answers sharply.

“I don’t believe for a second that you are.”

It takes you aback, her being so sure about it. You stay quiet, try to think of anything to say.

You can’t, it’s all too much information to get.

“How can you know that?” You say finally, tilting your head up to make eye contact with Sam.

She pats your back lightly. “You’re a good person YN. We can all tell.”

“We’re a family. One fucked up family, but family all the same. Including you.” She says, voice sure.

You hold eye contact for a while, a silent conversation being spoken. Setting aside all your differences, Sam was actually a really cool person. And you can tell she feels the same way.

Before you know it she’s out down the same hallway the group left in.

You’re sat on the couch, mouth open and eyes glazed.

Huh.

“YN? Mind if I come in?” Tara’s voice sounds from in front of you. You can’t decipher what the tone is.

“Yeah…yeah of course.” You answer, watching as Tara enters and stands before you.

You can’t handle her intense stare, and you drop your head immediately. Anxiety floods you, heart picking up speed.

You don’t notice her until she’s right in front of you, taking your cheeks in her hands. Stroking, softly.

10 minutes ago she was mad, and now she’s comforting you? This girl and her mixed signals.

“I believe you.” She murmurs, leaning down to press her lips on your cheek. She’s so short that even when you’re sitting down you’re almost the same height.

You don’t want to think about any of this now, you don’t want to think about it ever. You want to tell Tara this, but you can’t bring yourself to speak.

Your throat feels dry, eyes slightly teary.

“So what do we do now?” You whisper.

She continues stroking your face fondly, cradles you in her arms.

“We continue with the plan.” She says, and there’s a sense of finality in it that makes you shiver.

-

They’ve pushed back the date on their plan to capture Ghostface a little bit. Tara won’t admit it, but you know she’s the one who suggested it. She must think you need time to process the sudden father reveal, no doubt.

It’s sweet, but she’s wrong. In fact, right now all you need is a distraction. Something to take your mind off all the racing thoughts through your head, the sense of betrayal you feel.

Maybe I should call my mom.

“Hey. Whatcha thinking bout?” A voice sounds from behind you. It’s Anika, and you send her a soft smile; feeling weirdly glad to be in her company.

“Oh nothing much. Just about how my dad was one of the original Ghostfaces and that we’re literally running straight into danger in a few days.” You say, trying to make your voice sound light and teasing.

Anika seems to pick up on the underlying message, and you hear her sigh a little before speaking.

She rounds the couch to come sit down beside you, a pack of medical supplies in her arms. She splays it across the table and turns back to face you.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like to have a rough family. My parents were…dipshits to say the least.” She says, casually.

Oh.

You try and think of something appropriate to say in response, but your brain seizes up and it goes blank.

“But you don’t have to feel bad for me. I have a new family now.” She continues, smiling at you; genuine crinkles at the tips of her eyes. She pats your back lightly.

“Just so you know, I don’t think you’re the killer. Who cares if your dad is Ghostface? It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened in our friend group. I trust you, really.”

It’s enough to make you teary-eyed again. You look away, hoping she can’t see them.

“Thank you.” You mumble. “That means a lot to me.”

She chuckles warmly before taking you in a hug. You guys don’t say anything the rest of the time she fixes up your wound.

-

“Are you blushing?” Tara asks immediately when Anika leaves the room, footsteps light.

“What? No, I’m not.” You say, running a hand through your hair.

“Did she make you blush?” She’s asking, a teasing smile on her lips.

You frown.

“She just said some very nice things to me, okay?” You huff, cross your arms like a child.

“Aw, baby. You look adorable.” She murmurs, giving you a peck on the lips.

“Are you not jealous?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She brings a finger to her lips and feigns thoughtfulness. Then she smiles wide and takes your lips in a searing kiss.

“No.” She mumbles against them. “Because I know you’re mine. And I can definitely make you do a lot more than blush.”

It’s enough to make you flush completely red. You let out a little whine at her words.

“See?” She’s asking as she leans back, a smirk on her lips. You try and wipe it off by wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another kiss.

She’s not wrong. But you’re not going to admit that. It’s a fatal flaw, really. How easily you relent when it comes to Tara. You’d die for her, you’d kill for her, and she knows it.

“Come on,” She’s whispering. “Let’s go to my room.”

You pull back, amused.

“I don’t think I can even stand and you’re asking me to do what?” You ask pointedly.

She tugs on your shirt, obviously not in the mood to play one of your games right now.

“Then maybe I’ll just take you right here.” She whispers into your ear, laughing as you shiver beneath her.

You gulp, stare at her with big eyes. She crawls forward, leaning her elbows into your sides on instinct.

You can’t help but wince.

It seems to break Tara out of her lustful haze, because now she’s looking at you with worried eyes.

She’s getting up kind of panicky, fiddling with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I should let you sleep.” She says, sort of fast, words tumbling out of her.

You smile at her, grip her hands tight.

“It’s okay, Tara. Although, I do want to hit the hay for a while. Care to join me?” You invite, tugging her closer slightly to make sure she doesn’t leave.

She grins shyly and nods.

“Okay.” She says, biting the inside of her cheek. She’s the cutest with the excitement that radiates off her.

-

When you wake, Tara’s not in your arms anymore. You stir, rubbing your eyes aggressively.

“Tara?” You groan, trying to look around the weirdly dim room for any sign of your girlfriend.

You notice the candles immediately, more than a dozen of them lining the table and making a little pathway to the fireplace.

Your girlfriend appears in front of you now, wearing a little white sundress; one you’d specifically bought for her weeks ago.

She looks so good, you almost start drooling. Like an angel, the way she’s standing and staring at you, playful, excited gaze.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.” She grins, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You question, looking around the room in further inspection.

There are two plates set up quite nicely on the dining table, along with a bottle of champagne and a single flower in the middle.

It’s all so, romantic.

Tara twirls, and gives you a little show of her dress. Then she takes your hand and gently helps you up, leading you to the dining room with her.

“I never got to take you on a date. I think it’s time I return the favor.” She says, nodding along to her sentence; like a reassurance.

“You’re adorable.“ You say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She blushes a little.

“Thank you.” She mumbles.

The smell as you enter the dining room is mouth-watering. You recognize it immediately. It’s your favorite pasta, ravioli with white wine and tomatoes.

Tara’s an amazing cook, you know this already. But the flavors that explode in your mouth when you take a bite out of it are otherworldly.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked.” You speak through stuffed cheeks, eyes wide and happy.

Tara picks up a piece of her own and eats it.

“I didn’t know what to make you, so I called your mom. She said this was your favorite, so I went on youtube and tried to replicate the recipe.” She says, somewhat shyly.

You beam.

“You called my mom?” You ask, teasingly. Boop her on the nose. You celebrate internally when you see her flush red.

“Yeah, it was no biggie. Just a phone call.” She disregards, biting her bottom lip to try and stop the color that’s overtaking her whole face.

She reaches forward to grab another piece of ravioli before she stops short and gasps.

“Oh! I almost forgot to give you these.” Tara says, reaching behind her chair for something. She pulls out a huge bouquet of flowers, filled with your favorites.

You don’t try and hide the surprise in your face, mouth open and gaping.

She slaps your arm lightly at your reaction.

“Hey! I can be romantic too you know.”

You nod sarcastically.

“Oh yeah no doubt no doubt.” You say, taking the bouquet from her hands in favor of bending over the table and kissing her.

“Thank you, baby.” You say against her lips. She smiles wide, scrunching her nose as she pulls back.

“You taste like pasta!” She’s giggling, pushing you back into your chair.

You finish the dinner in record time, and that’s due entirely to how good the meal was. You and Tara sit and talk for a little while before moving to the floor to watch a movie.

Tara’s annoyingly secretive about it, not letting you see whatever she’s setting up. You huff and go grab snacks from the fridge instead.

When you get back it’s to the TV covered, and there’s a small projector at the side shining light on a random bed sheet she’s hung vertically.

“Impressive speed.” You praise.

Tara’s sitting smugly, arms open and inviting you to come sit.

It’s playing 10 Things I Hate About You, one of your all-time favorite movies. You settle down into the spot next to her and sneak a glance over, but she’s already staring at you; hard.

You let out a breath of happiness and pull her closer by the waist. Kiss her on the forehead, murmur against her skin.

“Thank you for this. I needed it.”

She nods into you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“Of course.” She says.

You decide Ghostface can wait, your dad can wait. All that matters right now is Tara. Her and this movie and you.

The only three things that exist in the world.

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 11

Ooooof. Sorry for this. But I'm also double sorry for what comes after :)

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Angst, HYDRA experiments, blood, wounds, disturbing visions, mentions of death.

Word Count: 1,085

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7][Part 8][Part 9][Part 10]

You stumble inside, gasping for breath.

The wound on your side needs immediate attention but you scramble around the abandoned home instead, blood and gunk oozing down and drip, drip, dripping onto the rotten wooden floors. You riffle through the drawers in the wobbly oak desk and come away with a blunt pencil before moving on to the bookshelves along the walls, dust covering the dry, cracked spines of the novels. You love books so much that you hate to even dog-ear your copies, but you proceed to rip out a few title pages and epigraphs, needing clean space to write.

You know there’s not enough time to both patch yourself up and write down your final words, so you can only hope that you’ll be cognizant enough to get down what you need to.

You clutch the papers and pencil in one hand and begin making your way to the small table and chair set off to the side of the kitchen. Pausing at the entryway, you use the other hand to apply pressure around the arrow jutting from just under your ribcage. 

You hiss at the pain, looking down at your blood-covered fingers and noticing rivulets of bright blue that had been hidden within the hollow shaft of the arrow. You had noticed a hollow pop when you snapped the fletching off back in the woods. You were still clear-headed enough at the time to realize that the inside had a coating of blue liquid. There wasn’t enough of it on the ground to fill the shaft, so the rest of it must have already been injected into your body – the arrow must have been triggered to inoculate upon penetration. 

You only had a limited amount of time to figure out what was going to happen to you, but knowing how HYDRA operates, you’ve decided to err on the side of caution and assume that death is imminent. Despite working at the facility for the past couple of months, you can’t determine what the blue liquid is. It could be any number of hallucinogens, anticoagulants, euthenasia agents, or something you hadn’t encountered yet.

You had run until you found this house, a good twenty miles from the facility and even further from your pre-determined evac point with Bucky in case shit hit the fan. Your pounding heart had only exacerbated your problems, increasing your blood loss and quickening the circulation of the substance through your bloodstream. You’d grown paranoid on your journey here, flinching at every sound and jumping at figures that seemed to leap at you from behind the trees. Darkness descended upon the forest and the shadows grew spindly fingers that seemed to snatch at your ankles. 

You come back to yourself, standing under the archway only a few feet from your destination. You shake your head, clearing away the spiders that had started to spin webs between your eyelashes. Without them in the way, the shadows only grew bolder – whipping out and slashing you to ribbons. The sleeves that had been protecting your arms are torn to shreds, small welts and bloody cuts evident through the holes.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you finish hobbling over to the rusty metal table. You slam the writing materials on the bumpy surface, bending over to pick up the fallen chair. You settle yourself onto the moth-eaten cushion, the wooden posts against your back creaking in protest. 

The shadows crawl over your shoulders and perch there, staring down at your hand as you try to write. The paper rotates under the pencil, turning your letters unintelligible. You hadn’t wanted to mar the letter with your blood, but you reluctantly pull the hand staunching the flow of warmth from your side and press it delicately to the top of the page, holding it in place.

As you write, tears pool along your lower lashes. The spiders titter happily, poking at the salty water and causing it to spill over onto your cheeks. The little creatures don’t appear interested in mopping up the liquid on your face with their little hairy bodies, because you see tear stains appear on the paper underneath you as the droplets collect on your chin and rain down.

You need to get this all out before you lose the one train of thought that still remains unscathed. The one topic inside your head that still makes sense, that you can still understand. 

Well, one that you used to understand. Bucky had been the one constant in your life until he wasn’t. Until you ruined it. Your conversation that was supposed to fix everything today never happened. So everything left unsaid between you and Bucky will remain that way, unless you get these words down. 

You’ll never know what Bucky was going to say, but at least he’ll be able to hear your side.

You can’t help but watch, fascinated, as lights begin to dance over your hand and the letter. Looking up, you can see that the entire table and wall opposite the window next to you also flicker brightly. The shapes dazzle your eyes, reflecting off the tears still gathering, and blind you intermittently as they bounce around.

You close your eyes against the lights wreaking havoc on your pupils, but the images that flash behind your eyelids are even more torturous. 

It’s your life before Great Fuck-Up. 

Bucky’s smiling face as he laughs at one of your sarcastic comments, his intent eyes and cocky smirk when he knew you were thinking about him, all the silly little moments you spent together that meant so much to you.

But then the images switch and you recognize immediately that you’re now in The After: the cold blue eyes, grimacing mouth, and the loneliness that came along with your confession. The anger and pain in Bucky’s voice when he turned you down, when he said he regretted the time spent with you. 

You inhale shakily as a sob tries to make its way up your throat and past your molten lips. Your hands tremble uncontrollably and the pencil slips through your fingers and rolls, rolls, rolls across the neverending table until it disappears over the edge that hadn’t been there seconds ago. There’s nothing to do except look back down at the page.

There’s only a few lines written, but if this is all you can manage then it will just have to be good enough. Knowing that these are your last moments, you’re glad that you could at least get these words off your chest. You hope that these last few words will be a consolation. To Bucky, to Nat, and Steve, and Sam, and Wanda, and, and, and a million other people that you’re going to miss – that will miss you.

Thinking of all the people you’re leaving behind brings into sharp relief just how lonely you are. You’re stuck in a long abandoned home, freezing, bleeding out, and unable to call for help. Even during your time away, you’d never felt this agonizing loneliness. This pain that manifests as a hollow feeling that echoes in your abdomen, as invisible hands grabbing and twisting at your heart. 

God. What is Bucky going to do now that you’re not going to be able to complete the mission? You did all you could, downloaded and scrubbed all the data before setting the self-destruct sequence into motion, but was it enough? You don’t remember a big fireball in the sky and quaking earth under your feet as you ran away, but maybe you were just too out of it to notice. 

You can’t help but feel guilty that Petre and his family got wrapped up in the situation, that their only way to move forward and help Sasha was to join that horrible, awful institution. But honestly, death is probably the best outcome for Sasha after everything HYDRA has done to her, whatever they’ve made her body dependent on.

Sharp pain flares from your chest and ricochets behind your ribs, forcing a cry from your lips. The pain continues to grow and spread, encroaching on your organs and traveling through your limbs - but all the sudden it’s gone and a crawling, slithering, pulsing numbness takes its place. Your bones and muscles and ligaments turn to jelly and you slide sideways out of the chair, landing hard on the rotten floor but not feeling it.

The pain is gone, but your emotions remain. You can’t help but remember all the time you spent training, spent getting to know the team, spent making life-long friendships. You just didn’t realize that life-long would be so short.

The lights on the wall grow more intense, more numerous, and you can hear howling, baying, snarling monsters sprinting to your final resting place. You can only hope that you’ll be gone by the time they sink their vicious fangs and terrible claws into your soft and squishy flesh. 

You thought that you would take any company over the aching loneliness you feel, but you realize that maybe being alone isn’t the worst thing in the end. At least no one has to see you cry, and shiver, and shake, and watch as your chest refuses to rise and your heart refuses to pump and the light leaves your eyes.

Yeah, no one should see that. You want them to remember you how you were: happy sometimes, a pain in the ass a lot of times, and – hopefully – as a good friend, a good teammate, a good person. You know there’s so many things you could have done differently, but does it even matter now? 

You can see the clothes piled on your floor back in New York, the cereal bowl left on your nightstand from a midnight snack, all the makeup scattered across your counter from girls’ night out. The pillow slumped against the door and tear stains soaking your bed sheets at the house you share with Bucky only a handful of miles away.

You see the half-finished books on your shelf, the unsung songs on your playlists, the stories you never told and never heard, and the conversations left unfinished, the words left unsaid. 

You wish that your last thoughts before you die were happy, that you could watch your life back over and not regret so much, that you could see your family and friends and Bucky one last time.

But that isn’t in the cards for you. The monsters from outside have finally reached the house, slamming open the door and shattering what’s left of the windows. Shadows converge on you from every angle, crowding your eyes and compressing your lungs more and more and more until there’s no room left to expand. Until you can’t take in any air. Gasping, gasping, gasping. Until the room fades out and so does your heartbeat.

Part 12

Tag list: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283 @terry2227

[study-for-hogwarts]

Since I just finished my bachelor thesis and have all this -for now- unnecessary knowledge swirling around in my head, I let it out here, in case anyone can find it useful.

I present: the biggest (formating & general) rules in thesis writing (as proposed by my German professor):

1. Per page: at least 2 maximum 4 paragraphs. Professors don't like to have one huge block of text for more than half a page. They will be less likely to want to read your paper.

2. Figures and Images: put them in the text where they are spoken about, don't just refer to them being in the appendix. It disrupts the reading flow and no professor likes to shuffle back and forth in a paper multiple times. Also, images and figures should be centralised on a page, seem coherent with each other in their entirety (especially if you created them yourself, use one colour and design pallette if possible) and be named correctly. Additionally, ich you use more than 3 or 4 images/figures, have a table of tables/figures in the front of your paper after table of contents.

3. Use figures and Images - be visual, make your thesis as easy as possible to understand. No one likes to read something and have his brain in knots the whole time.

4. Use times new Roman (or Arial) in size 12, 1.5

5. Recap: If your paper is really long, we're talking about 45 pages plus and you are talking about something from chapter 2 in chapter 7, briefly (!) recap it for ease of understanding and to reinforce your red string (roter Faden).

6. Subtitles: rather have too many than too few subtitles, they make it easier to navigate the paper and help you keep track of the smaller sections (they can also help in the writing process as too not lose focus of what you are doing).

7. Limitations and future research: at the end of your paper, after the discussion and before the conclusion, you have to name limitations. If you think you had none, look again. NO paper, none at all has no limitations. If you can think only of a few, you can also add them in one or two sentences to the conclusion, but it's better to have a separate part. For theses or papers in general, common limitations are time constraint, limited access to data, limited know-how, etc. After limitations, you can have another small chapter called "future research", here you can put all the ideas that you had during writing, which are in relation to your main topics. Maybe you would have liked to research more into a specific area, or you were missing key information somewhere. In future research you can put all the ideas you would like to see researched in the future.

8. Page numbers: i hope you were clever and formatted your document with page numbers, titles and subtitles before even starting to write (if you weren't, like me), it's not horrible, but it can be slightly annoying. Don't try to do it by yourself if your not sure. Just don't. You will probably get frustrated and your stress levels will rise even more. Just Google "how to multiple kinds of page numbers Microsoft word" and follow the instructions exactly. This saves you time and nerves. Usually in theses, you use Greek page numbers (I,II,III,IV,V,VI,...) For table of contents until the introduction, and then continue with them as soon as your bibliography starts. For the part in between (introduction until conclusion) you use Roman (?) numbers (1,2,3,...).

9. Titles: if you use 1. 1.2 1.2.1 etc., make sure that it is necessary to use things like 4.5.5.1.1. A rule of thumb is, if you can't say 2 (i.e. 4.5.5.1.1 but not 4.5.5.1.2) than you don't need to say 4.5.5.1.1 at all but put that part unter 4.5.5.1. Of course, this rule does not work all the time, but I like to check the necessity of my structure in this way.

10. Plan more days: When you are nearly done with your writing process, many of us estimate 1 day for formatting and 1 for proof reading. This is, was and never will be enough. Especially not if you are a perfectionist. Plan at least 1 week for formatting and proofreading. Honestly I would recommend 10 days. Because after writing a huge paper like this you are bound to be exhausted and will crash some days. Also, it is good to take 1-2 days of distance from your work to have a fresh point of view. If I would write a bachelor thesis again, I honestly would calculate 2 weeks for formatting and proofreading. If you have to "fix" your sources, definitely take 10 days. You will take 2 days for sources, if you have to find additional ones, or check them.

11. Last but not least: if possible, register your bachelor thesis (i.e. in Germany that is the point when you officially start your writing period (usually around 9-12 weeks) as late as possible. Do as much research, etc. before this time starts. I won't say write at least half of your thesis before you start this period and have all your questionnaires/interviews/or whatever research type you use ready to go. I won't say that, but well... Just, 9 weeks is nothing. Honestly, think about the 2 weeks towards proofreading, sources and formatting (+trying to get calm after being stressed continuously for 7 weeks (I was)). Just, if you think now is the time to register, wait another two weeks.

That's all for now, I know I will use this again for my master thesis, so I will leave this here for now. I hope it helps some of you too.🤗

[wishjacked]

Happy #WebcomicDay!! :D

This year we're celebrating the process of making pages... so below the cut I've got a bunch of pictures sharing how I go about making pages of my evil post-apocalyptic workplace sitcom, Cargo!! :D

So! My process!!

Writing-> I think sometimes there's pressure to "write" your comic a certain way, I see people talking about script format and stuff a lot. That really doesn't work for me, though! I write my "first draft" script in short scenes on scrap paper, in whatever order they come to me. Sometimes a scene will just be one or two lines, and then a little description of what I want to happen in the rest of the scene.

Later I type the scene up, and write the "connective tissue" that fits between the disjointed scenes so they all flow together like they ought. I don't do page breaks or even character tag or action notes hahahaha I like it to be as BASIC as POSSIBLE so it's easy to edit. And since I'm the person drawing it I can almost always remember who's supposed to be saying what lmao

I edit a lot, but the most major editing is also probably the last bit... when I letter my pages usually I realize "they would never say that" and so I end up rephrasing everything. My art brain is sometimes waaaaay better at phrasing hahaha. Like you can see in the finished page for this script I rewrote like basically all of it, and actually went back to the original "sketch" script in a lot of places.

Thumbnailing-> my thumbs are really big, I draw them with markers on printer paper and keep them in a binder!! I like to thumb scenes in batches and I also usually write my dialogue on them, just so I can read through them before (and while) I draw to get a feel for how the pacing works. :)

Sketching-> OH sketching is also really hard for me! I don't have a good visual imagination so it's really important for me to make sure I have good references. Last year I was especially focusing on setting.

My comic is set in Florida. I'm lucky in that I used to live there and still go back to visit sometimes, so sometimes I can gather my own reference images! But more often I start on Google Maps or Zillow, trying to find buildings that have interesting features or the right kind of "look" for what I want. I'll also look up other interesting elements, my comic is set in a post-apocalypse and I'll research home gardening and things like that which people would probably have.

For example, in this set in chapter 7, I used Google Maps images, photo references of indoor hydroponic gardening, and like, 90's-00's hacker computer setups haha. Also my BFF Roomstyler.com, where you can make 3d house interiors haha!!

Lineart-> I LOVE lineart it is my favorite!!!! I sketch and ink two pages at a time, and it usually takes somewhere between 10-12 hours to do both steps.

I actually think my art looks best when it's just lineart... but I think my STORY is better with color, like it makes it clearer and easier to read and it has a better atmosphere HAHA.

Colors-> I think it usually takes me 4-6 hours to do 2 pages (I haven't timed myself as consistently as I time my lineart and sketching). I have a big file with small copies of my previous pages that I color drop from, and my characters are all flats only. The limited palette that I use is also really handy, it streamlines coloring a LOT.

Finishing Touches-> aka I steal mercilessly from my one true love, my internet home, the beautiful and blessed Wikimedia Commons

I put lots of overlay layers on my art! I like textures so having some strange little textures or pictures on things makes my art feel a lot more finished to me.

And finally my very most favorite ✨finishing touch✨ is the bright colored/patterned gutters that I use. Here are some of my favorites that I've made and used in the past!

And that's all!! I hope you guys have a very happy Webcomics Day and find lots and lots of wonderful new things to read!!!

[nortonluv]

Can we keep her forever?! - Wriothesley x Fem! Reader (Preview)

This ffic is a part 2 to 'I love her' which is also up on Ko-fi but the first part is free

Full fic will be up in about half an hour on my Ko-fi.

Commissions are 10% off when u use code HANDSOMECOMMISSIONS on my Ko-fi page, Characters for fics are in my About

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

Price on Ko-fi - Paid (sorry)

Characters: Wriothesley x Fem! Reader (+ Sigewinne)

-Part 2 of 'I love her'-

Warnings: None

Reader can be read as having a vision but also without, I've tried to keep that matter neutral.

A/n: This was written before their official release please note that they be slightly ooc.Also apologies about this being paid for content. I have to profit from my writing somehow, but this will be longer than the free part. I'm working on extending my fics a bit.

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

It has been a few months since Sigewinne and Y/n had met. They would often spend time together just talking about how their lives are going. All the new things Sigewinne learned about, she would tell Y/n. They shared stories of their time with Wriothesley and would even spend the day with all three of them together. Wriothesley barely could get a word in between the two of them but he was gald that they liked each other, he wasn't quite ready for their relationship to bloom so quickly.

Sigewinne hops up next to Wriothesley's desk, hopeful as ever. He looks over to her but quickly returns his attention to the stacks of paper work piling up onto his desk and the forms currently in his hands. She hold up a drink and switches his tea with a brightly coloured smoothie. His eyes drag back down to the drinks and he hovers his hand over the smoothie to tease the poor melusine, before moving his hand to his tea and picking it up. It was a cute attempt in his eyes but she'd have to do a whole lot better to fool the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide. Sigewinne pouts and angrily holds up her concoction, slightly shaking it so he'd take notice of it to no avail.

[rottenshotgungames]

Sorry for falling off of the face of the earth for a bit there

Make A Quick Reference

I’ve been quietly toiling away, making design alterations, doing formatting, editing, making character sheets, all of those lovely things that go into publishing a playtest. I’ve walked away from that experience a little wiser, new skills under my belt and an utter hatred for the process of creating form fillable PDFs. I’d like to share some of that hard-won wisdom today, particularly this:

YOU SHOULD MAKE A RULES REFERENCE SHEET FOR YOUR GAME. If it is any larger than two pages, your game needs it. I do not care what your game is, it can be a tactical combat game, an FiTD variant, some chaotic mish-mash resulting in an OSR Lovecraft game, you should make a Quick Reference sheet. There are a lot of reasons why, A LOT of reasons, but here’s 3 big ones:

It really helps GMs and players (this is the obvious one). Having a reference sheet during play makes the game faster, easier, and better.

It forces you to review, revise, and refocus the game’s foundation. You should be doing this regularly as part of the design process anyway, but creating a rules reference will often result in a stark reminder of what the central rules of your games are. If you’ve lost your focus a bit, you’ll figure it out pretty quick.

It exercises your ability to convey information concisely, a necessary skill for game designers and writers. If you’re not practicing conveying the necessary rules of your game in short form, you should be— and making a quick reference will be a wake-up call if nothing else.

That should be enough. If you are not convinced that you should make a quick reference, I cannot help you. Go, live in your blissful ignorance for eternity.

For those who have taken my message to heart, I’m gonna give you a few loose guidelines for making an effective quick reference. These are not hard and fast rules, just things that I use for myself to keep the sheet practical and sharpening.

Include core and common rules first and foremost. This is different for every game, but usually includes one or two important chapters (probably the first one). I don’t personally include character specific options, but to each their own.

Limit yourself to a 2 page spread / single sheet of paper. If you have multiple kinds of play, such as downtime rules or a separation between narrative and tactical play, feel free to create a second 2 page rules reference.

Use boxes and tables. Organize and section related information to the best of your ability.

Limit yourself to a minimum font size of 10 point. This is about the limit of readability on a printed page, for the purpose of accessibility.

Like all rules documents, write the first draft in pure text format.

That’s really it. At the end of the day, any quick reference is better than no quick reference. Whether you eschew these guidelines entirely or specify hard-and-fast rules is entirely up to you. That being said . . . MAKE A QUICK REFERENCE. And if you have a favorite quick reference, or implementation of a quick reference sheet, please let me know in the notes!

Self Promotion

Thank you so much for reading. I really just wanted to get something out, considering how long I’ve been absent. The free playtest for my stealth-action RPG, Footfall, is launching by the end of the day tomorrow! The game is going to include all player facing rules, the rules for enemy creation, and a playable adventure. If you want to be notified when it releases, you can follow me here or on itch at https://rotten-shotgun-games.itch.io. I also have a Discord server where I post about the projects I’m working on pretty regularly, which can be joined with this link: https://discord.gg/wcHnG4V5fH.

Once again, I hope you have a great night and a great day.

[writingdotcoffee]

Writing Challenge: Journal for 10 Minutes a Day for a Week

Journalling is many different things to different people. Some use it to capture memories. Others to plan, process what happened and reflect on their day. Inspired by Julia Cameron, many write three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing every morning.

You don't have to limit yourself to any particular way of doing journalling. You can do different things on different days or go through phases as your interests shift over time. You also don't have to do it every day. Journalling still has value if you only do it occasionally. Even Samuel Pepys, one of the more famous journal-keepers of history, skipped days.

I've had some of my best ideas and worked through some difficult issues while writing into my journal. Years ago, I used to free-write in the morning. I did 2,000 words in 30 minutes or less every day. It helped me wake up and get my mind going.

Before that, I thought my brain couldn't put that many words on paper so fast. But it turns out that you can train yourself to do it.

Writing purely for yourself is a fascinating experience. It shows you just how much you're holding yourself back when writing for other people. As for me, writing 2,000 words that I intend to publish can take me anywhere between two to four hours.

The Challenge

This week, I want to challenge you to give journalling a try. Write in your journal for 10 minutes or more every week. Beyond that, there are no rules. See what comes up and what you can make of it.

I'll be tracking it with Writing Analytics. Here's a link if you'd like to join:

https://app.writinganalytics.co/challenge/651a5fdaa08a3997212f9778

Happy writing!

[tillthereweretangents]

John and Paul reading Kahlil Gibran

Guest post by @the-paper-apricot

In 1986, Paul spoke to his fan magazine, Club Sandwich, about tracks on the album Press to Play, among them the song ‘However Absurd’:

The lyrics on this one are a bit bizarre, but then again they make a kind of sense… In the middle it explains itself a bit… ‘Something special between us… Words wouldn’t get my feelings through’. That’s taking off into The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran – there’s a line of his that always used to attract me and John, which was ‘Half of what I say is meaningless, but I say it just to reach you.’

Source: The Paul McCartney Project.

Gibran’s works, especially The Prophet, have remained in print since their appearance, but seemed to have a particular flourish of popularity in the 1960s and 1970s. My parents, like so many young people of their generation, were devoted readers of his romantic-spiritual books in their English translation, and I devoured the books in my teens. So I returned to the books to find the words that so appealed to John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

It was a fair guess that the words appeared in The Prophet, Gibran’s most famous work, but in this instance Paul has misremembered. The line is actually in a book called Sand and Foam.

At the beginning of John’s White Album track ‘Julia’, he sings:

Half of what I say is meaningless / But I say it just to reach you, Julia

The origin of that line, recalled by Paul in his Club Sandwich interview, we can read here on page 11 of Sand and Foam:

Later in the song, John’s lyric continues drawing upon Gibran:

When I cannot sing my heart / I can only speak my mind

These words are adapted from the line halfway down that same page, Gibran writing that “when Life does not find a singer to sing her heart she produces a philosopher to speak her mind.”

★

Sand and Foam is a book of aphorisms, and ideas follow, one to the next, without any commentary. The couple of pages on either side of these lines on page 11 are dense with ideas about speech, withholding your words, sharing yourself in meaningless talk, sharing yourself in silence.

On the very next page is a line that I think corresponds to ‘However Absurd’.

The line on page 12 reads:

“The voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you; but let us talk that we may not feel lonely”.

In ‘However Absurd’, Paul sings:

I couldn’t say the words, / Words wouldn’t get my feelings through, / So I keep talking to you… However absurd, however absurd… It may seem.

When I parse Gibran’s line in relation to the song ‘However Absurd’, I understand it as my voice can’t reach your living ear any more, but I must talk to you regardless. It’s difficult to avoid the supposition that the ‘you’ Paul addresses is John, especially since he himself drew attention to their joint affinity for Gibran’s thoughts. Musically too, the song evokes John and their work together in The Beatles, particularly in the sonic disintegration after the climax, recalling the end of Tomorrow Never Knows.

More broadly, it echoes Gibran’s idea, also expressed in John’s ‘Julia’, that some meaning will get through, despite absurd or seemingly nonsense talk.

★

I said that this passage of Sand and Foam is dense with related thoughts, so let’s look at the preceding page too. At the bottom of page 10, is the first half of the thought that is resolved at the top of page 11 (above), immediately prior to the line that opens the song ‘Julia’.

In full then, this idea reads:

“The reality of the other person is not in what he reveals to you, but in what he cannot reveal to you. Therefore, if you would understand him, listen not to what he says but to what he does not say.”

We might imagine what a fresh, appealing recognition this would be for the two men when they first read it. It fits very well with Paul’s explanations of John’s character, explanations demanded with tedious frequency by journalists since Lennon’s death – that is, that the real John isn’t necessarily the spoken part. And that he knew the unspoken part so intimately. To paraphrase: I know him, I’ve listened to the unspoken part.

I’ll close this post with a line from page 13 of Sand and Foam. Considering their deep mutual comprehension, it’s tempting to think that this idea must have likewise appealed to John and Paul. It seems almost written for them:

“It takes two of us to discover truth: one to utter it and one to understand it.”

Notes.

1. Kahlil Gibran was a Lebanese-American poet. For a useful introduction to his life and work, try this article.

2. Donovan released a haunting song with the title ‘Sand and Foam’ in 1967. I haven’t been able to discover if the title was directly influenced by Gibran’s book of the same name. (Donovan fans please enlighten me!) The song appears on the album Mellow Yellow, the recording sessions for which Paul McCartney attended, contributing handclaps, basslines and, fittingly enough, giggling sounds. Donovan of course played music with The Beatles in the informal, half-secluded setting of Rishikesh in the early part of 1968. It was during this time he shared his fingerpicking guitar style with John, who soon put it to memorable use, in ‘Julia’. Gibran’s popularity at the time means it’s quite possible that their reading matter was similar. Donovan’s ‘Sand and Foam’ is here.

3. After a quick search of antiquarian and second-hand booksellers, it appears that Heinemann, London were the sole English publisher of Gibran’s books at this time. The Heinemann edition belonging to my parents was reprinted throughout the 1960s: I can’t know if this is the edition read by John and Paul. They could of course have picked up an American edition. The page numbering is bound to be very similar though, if not identical.

—-

Thanks so much to @the-paper-apricot​ for this fascinating post! We’d really love to hear from folks who are familiar with both Gibran’s work and George’s lyrics. Is George as interested in these books as Paul and John?

[erysium]

You've talked about writing your comic in a few asks before, I was wondering if you have advice/ resources for artists writing their own comics? I've only ever scene stuff for writers writing for an artist and would love to see what goes into your scripts.

haha I'm a little shy about trying to give advice this, since I feel like I'm a lot weaker at writing than drawing! writing is really stressful & difficult for me.. I would never want to write for someone else, because a lot of my 'writing' process is really just drawing things out, and seeing what works. When I edit my scripts for anyone else to read over, I cut about 2/3rds of what I have written in as notes - stuff that mostly only make sense to me (ie 'referencing this scene in chapter 3,' 'an expression like in that scene in that cool amv' or 'this part inspired by the ending of that movie/book/etc') as well as the 2-3 what-if versions I have for every scene, that I sometimes only finalize/decide between when I'm working on thumbnails and finally seeing how it all flows on the page together. or after someone who's helping me edit takes a look and has thoughts. When I have an idea for a scene, it's also usually in some visual form - so I'll jot down some notes in my story doc, and then sketch out the acting & feeling I'm imagining to see if it feels like anything when it's down on paper. As it sits in my notes for months or years (while I'm working on and reading other stuff,) that moment might change a little in my memory, or develop more..or the point of that scene might feel less clear when i reread it with fresh eyes, and it might get cut.

I guess for overall advice - find a process that works for you! If you're a more visual person, you can find ways to work visuals first, and then trace your steps back to extract the story from those cool visuals, and then figure out how to puzzle piece all those cool visuals & moments together. & ofc, reading a lot, watching a lot of movies, listening to podcasts or anything narrative, is important for developing your voice & priorities & style as a writer, the same way you do as a visual artist. :-)

(This is what i wrote when I was reorganizing the flow of the first 10 pages in this chapter - I have an idea of the conversation's exact wording written down earlier, so I'm just figuring out if the emotional beats makes some sense with the overall tone in mind, sometimes having a good idea that pulls things together better (highlighted in purple so I don't forget it) or greyed out so I can ignore it (but not deleted, so that I remember that i already had that idea & discarded it for a reason) .. also Kye is always 'k' in my notes & Sonya is always 'v' because i don't want to write their names out all the time lol)

[fluentmoviequoter]

hey I have another request since you asked to keep them coming. how about academic rivals with victor vale (lockland era) turned to allies (*cough* lovers) fighting against eli? it would be also awesome for reader to be an EO <33

I am so so so sorry about the long wait, but thank you for being patient! This request is amazing and I hope I did it justice; it's my first time writing rivals to lovers allies, so I hope it's okay! Please feel free to leave feedback and let me know what you think. Thanks again for the great requests!🤍

Warnings: angst, fluff, discussions of death and EOs, reader's ability is discussed (it's controlling vehicles), reader and Victor call each other stupid/just are generally mean to each other, spoilers for Vicious. I think that's all?

Word Count: ~4.6k words

A/N: We need more Victor Vale gifs.

10 Years Ago - Lockland

You’re sitting in the quiet library, tapping your pen against your lower lip as you look back and forth between the open textbook and your nearly full notebook. The Comprehensive Science Seminar is ending, and it’s time to declare a thesis. You’ve been fighting through this course and are struggling to find the perfect topic. An idea pops into your head, and you scribble it on the last page of your notebook. As you pull the pen away, someone drops a paper onto your book.

“Wow, 95. You must be so proud,” you say emotionlessly, pushing the paper across the table as the owner, Victor Vale, sits across from you.

“It’s alright. What’d you get?” Victor asks, and you swear you see the hint of a smile.

“I don’t know, I haven’t been in to see Professor Lyne yet. No doubt it’s a 96 or higher.” You send him a fake smile before looking back at your notes.

“Hmm. And your thesis?”

“Yours?”

Victor stares at you before shrugging. “Coming along nicely.”

“Mine too. Now if you don’t mind.”

“Right, right. I wouldn’t want to bother Lockland’s number 2 student. See you tomorrow.”

“Not if there’s any hope in the world.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan quietly. I need a better thesis if I want to beat him, you think, and open a different textbook.

14 Years Ago - Lockland

“Mr. Vale, you will be paired with… your neighbor, nice planning,” the professor announces.

He continues down the list as you look over at Mr. Vale.

“I’ll handle it,” he mutters, reaching for the worksheet.

You slap a hand onto it, stopping him as you argue, “That’s not gonna work for me. I don’t really need the fate of my GPA in… those hands.”

The corner of his lip twitches up for just a moment. “Well these hands happen to have a better GPA than you. So, if it works for you, I’ll give yours a little boost. They love charity work here, it’s like an extracurricular.”

“Well, as much as I appreciate that,” you bite out, “I don’t trust you or your high GPA hands. So we do it together, or I take the A and tell everyone that you didn’t demonstrate the signature ‘Lockland Teamwork.’”

Victor cracks his neck before pushing the paper toward your side of the lab table. “Fine. But if we don’t do well on this I will make sure you never show your face at Lockland again.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how you feel after you lose your title of highest GPA, Vale.”

10 Years Ago - Lockland

“All right. It’s time to declare your thesis,” Professor Lyne announces.

You stare at the back of Victor’s head, two thesis options on a notecard on your desk. Are you waiting to see what he picks? Maybe. But you’re one or two higher grades away from taking Victor’s class ranking, and you will do it. If it’s the last thing you do.

Professor Lyne goes through his warnings about what makes a good thesis, and then you drown everything out. Bouncing your leg, you hope this goes well.

“And you, Mr. Vale?” Professor Lyne asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

You see Victor look at Eli, then he turns and glances at you. Your brows furrow as he answers, “Adrenal inducers.”

Professor Lyne begins to argue, and Victor adds, “Adrenaline and its physical and emotional inducers and consequences. Biochemical thresholds. Fight or flight, That kind of thing.”

Watching with bated breath, you’re surprised when Professor Lyne nods and says, “Don’t make me regret it.”

You can practically feel the victory radiating off Victor as Professor Lyne turns his attention to you, sitting between Eli and Victor, a row behind. You state your first thesis idea, and Professor Lyne tilts his head as he nods.

“Excellent choice,” he says. “Eli Cardale.”

You take a deep breath, a small smile on your face. This smile, however, falls as Eli answers.

“EOs,” Eli says calmly.

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation until the end when Professor Lyne concedes with a simple: “Fine.”

Fine? you think. He’s going to kill someone; he’s insane.

Victor follows Eli outside, and for a brief moment, you’re concerned, then you realize that his concern for his psycho friend may give you the advantage you need.

You can win even after sacrificing a pawn, after all.

With your entire focus on beating Victor, you hardly notice that you haven’t seen him around as much. At least until you learn he tried to kill himself. After an internal war, wondering if you should visit him, you get in your car and drive to the hospital where he is.

When you find his room, you knock on the door. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Wow. Great to see you too, oh, it was no problem to come down and see you,” you respond.

Victor shakes his head. “Thanks, I guess. Why are you here?”

You shrug. “I figured I could apologize, since my amazing thesis drove you to such lengths.”

Victor barks out a harsh laugh. “You wish this was about you.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right, because I’m just a stupid girl whose GPA isn’t as high as yours and my mommy and daddy don’t write self-help books that end up with cryptic, messed-up messages.”

“See? Don’t understand.”

“Well, then, in that case, I’ll get going. I’ve got an ‘excellent’ thesis to work on. See ya, Vale, unless they finally see that it’s not just smart up there.”

You walk out, fuming. Victor is a lot of things, and infuriating is at the top of the list. He thinks you’re too stupid to understand? You’d bet money you know what happened.

In your car, you look down at your phone and find Eli’s number, prepared to check your hypothesis that he was involved. It rings as you drive, and you hear Eli answer just before you see a truck swerve into your lane.

10 Years Ago - Lockland Medical Center

You gasp for air when you wake up. Doctors and nurses are surrounding you; one pulls an adrenaline shot away as the others keep you still to tend to your wounds. Losing control is something you don’t usually feel, and you don’t like it. Their voices fade as your blinks grow slower, control slipping from your grasp.

The light in the hospital room is not helpful in your battle to open your eyes. When your surroundings become clear, you see the date on the wall. Your thesis is due tomorrow.

“Um, excuse me?” you ask a passing nurse. “I really need to get going, I have a thesis due.”

“Someone is on their way to talk with you,” she says kindly before hurrying out.

Professor Lyne’s assistant knocks on the door a few minutes later, sorrow and hurt in his eyes. “I was sorry to hear about your accident, but I’m glad you’re doing better. Modern medicine is something to behold.”

“Right,” you mumble. “And my thesis?”

“You’ll receive full credit for the course and have an indefinite extension. Professor Lyne…” His voice catches, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Professor Lyne had an accident at the school. He passed away yesterday.”

“He’s gone?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I reviewed your thesis draft with him the previous day and he was very impressed, so when you are able to submit it, I have no doubt you will receive praise.”

A tear rolls down his cheek, and he hastily excuses himself. Professor Lyne was impressed; you wonder if he reviewed Victor’s work. Or if Victor even did any work after his “accident.”

“Hello?” you ask, answering your phone.

“Hey, it’s Eli. Victor tried to kill me,” Eli says quickly.

“Eli?” you ask after a moment. “How did you get my number?”

“Focus! Vic. Tried. To. Kill. Me,” he repeats slowly.

You probably deserved it, you think. Instead of saying that, you ask, “But you’re okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Victor is messed up though.”

“Eli, why are you telling me this?”

“Think about it. He tolerates me, but he hates you. Just be careful.”

Eli ends the call, and you decide he’s crazier than you thought. You glance around the hospital room, stopping to look out the window and feel a strange buzzing sensation as a truck passes outside. It swerves onto the curb, then the buzzing fades, and the driver corrects his mistake and keeps driving. Weird.

“Ma’am, I have the paperwork here if you’re ready to leave,” a nurse informs you.

“Oh, I am,” you answer, reaching for the pen.

9 Years Ago - Lockland

You walk the stage and accept your degree. The small class in your Comprehensive Science Seminar receives a special ceremony. Except for the two who didn’t submit their theses: Victor Vale and Eli Cardale. You thought that if either of them went to jail, it would be Eli. After hearing what Victor did to Angie Knight, you realize that maybe your academic hatred for him stemmed from a deeper understanding of his character.

It happens again when you leave the ceremony to enter the next part of your life and start a new job with your new degree. You look at a truck and feel a buzzing before it swerves. You step back, and it doesn’t stop; at the last second before impact, you flip your hand to the side, and the truck rolls over, stopping in the middle of the road.

You look between your hand and the truck, and worry fills your mind as you realize Eli was right.

Two Weeks Ago - Wrighton Penitentiary 

“Who’re you here to see?”

“Victor Vale,” you answer.

The disinterested guard taps a few keys on a computer. “He was in solitary for a long time. Folks like that don’t usually get visitors.”

You nod. “It’s been a long time. He’s not in solitary anymore, so I can see him, right?”

The guard huffs before pushing a clipboard through the small opening in the bulletproof glass. “Sign these, then go through the metal detectors. They’ll show you where to go.”

“Thank you.”

You rush through the paperwork and then through the security checkpoint. Sitting in front of the bulletproof divider, you tap your fingers on the metal table, glancing between the phone and the door. When Victor enters, his eyes land on you, as cold and hateful as ever.

“Hey,” you say into the phone after he picks the other side up.

“What do you want?”

“That’s your go-to line, isn’t it?”

“It’s been years,” Victor spits out your last name, “why now?”

You look around before lowering your voice to say, “He was right and you know something.”

“Who?”

“Eli. Who else, Victor? The guy you… injured.”

“What exactly do you want from me?”

“Answers! And don’t tell me that I won’t understand, I’m the one with a college degree and you’re in a jail cell,” you snap.

“Top of the class?” You nod, and Victor mumbles, “Just because I dropped out.”

“I would’ve beat your little ‘flight or fight’ thesis and you know it. Now tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened and nothing is going to happen. My time’s up. Bye.”

He slams the phone and storms out, not sparing a glance over his shoulder. The ache you refused to acknowledge disappears as he does. That’s what I thought, you think.

You spend the next few days trying to figure out what power Eli has. If Victor attempted to kill him and failed, then Eli must be invincible. There’s a way around that; there has to be. Staying near the prison wasn’t a conscious choice, but you’re less than a mile away, just in case.

One Week Ago - Wrighton Penitentiary 

Reading on your porch, you don’t expect to witness someone trying to steal your car. Focusing, you rev the engine and flash the headlights as you walk toward them.

“I knew I was smarter than you, but I didn’t think you were this much of an idiot,” you tell Victor.

“How did you do that?” he asks.

“I already told you, I know more than you think.”

“We need your car,” Victor says.

“Not without me. You can take it, on the condition I go with it.”

“Absolutely not. Give me the keys or we’ll take it another way,” Victor threatens.

You square your shoulders and look into his eyes with the same tenacity and stubbornness he hated in college.

“How? Gonna hurt me again; use the pain to distract me? Is that your thing?”

The man with him looks back and forth between you.

“You don’t know half as much as you think you do.”

You rev the engine and watch Victor’s eyes move to the car. “I know that you and Eli are EOs. And I know that you’re both crazy, but you’re not quite as crazy. Now, do you want to stand here until you get caught or take me up on the offer and get out of here?”

“I don’t want you coming with us,” he snaps.

You see a police car approaching and direct it into a U-turn to send it in the other direction.

“You’re-”

“An EO? Thought you were smart enough to notice, Vale. Last chance: car or no car?”

“Fine,” he concedes as sirens grow louder. “But I’m driving.”

“Not a chance. Besides, I can control it from the passenger seat, idiot.”

Victor rolls his eyes as he rushes to the passenger side, sitting low in the seat as his (friend? acquaintance?) lays down in the backseat. You introduce yourself quickly.

“Mitch,” he answers. “Thanks for covering for us.”

“Mostly you, Mitch.”

“So I’ve heard,” he mumbles.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“We can go to my parents’ house. They’re on a book tour,” Victor answers.

“Of course they are. Then what?”

“We find him.”

You nod, directing police cars past you as you turn off of the main road.

“And kill him, I presume? Since you failed last time,” you add.

“How do you know about that?”

“He called me. Warned me that since you hated me more than him, I was probably next.”

“And you didn’t care?”

“I was in the hospital, so yeah, it wasn’t really a top priority.”

“How’d you die?” Mitch asks. “Sorry, is that insensitive? I’m new to the Extra-Ordinary thing.”

“It should be insensitive, but it’s fine,” you answer gently. Softer than you’ve ever talked to Victor. “I was in a car accident after I visited Prince Vale over here after his overdose. A failed attempt at getting superpowers, I realize now.”

“You were in a wreck? I didn’t know,” Victor says, pulling himself up into the seat.

“I’m shocked,” you answer sarcastically, “because you always cared so much about me. We hate each other, Victor, I didn’t expect flowers.”

Victor nods and tells you how to get to his parents’ house. Mitch sighs after each of his hurtful comments, but you’re immune to them.

10 Days Ago - On the Road

“They’re back,” Mitch says, looking at the armored truck out the back window.

“I can get them off our trail, for good, but it will put a target on our back,” you offer.

“Not alone, you can’t,” Victor argues.

You nod. “Then what do we do?”

“Stop the car.”

You do as he says, telling Mitch to get down as you and Victor get out of the car.

“I am smart enough to do this by myself,” you whisper.

“Sure you are,” Victor replies. “Flip it and I’ll finish them off.”

“Okay,” you breathe out before focusing on flipping the vehicle end over end into a roadside ditch.

You watch as Victor approaches the cracked windshield. Closing your eyes as if it will protect you against the pained screams, you hear the last officer take his final breath before Victor returns to the car.

“Let’s go,” he hurries you. “If it helps your conscience, you didn’t kill any of them, just hurt them.”

If only you could believe that.

One Week Ago - Vale House

“Is that who I think it is?” you ask, looking over Mitch’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him,” Mitch answers. “Is it? This just says ‘Civilian Hero Saves Bank.’”

“Yeah, that’s Eli Cardale. He hasn’t aged a day, though.”

You’re leaning over onto the table, reading the article when Victor enters.

“What’s so interesting?” Victor asks.

“Mitch found Eli,” you answer.

“Where?”

He joins you, his arm brushing against yours, and for once, you don’t immediately pull away.

“Merit,” Mitch says. “He’s some kind of vigilante.”

You and Victor make the same sound: muted amusement covered by exasperation. Mitch looks at you, then back to the screen.

“The article doesn’t say his name? I thought he’d want the fame,” you add.

“He doesn’t. He thinks God sent him back to take care of EOs.”

“Eli Cardale thinks he’s God? That makes sense.”

“Ever. He changed his name to Eli Ever.”

“Someone was jealous of someone else’s alliteration, Peter Parker,” you point out, smiling as Victor sighs.

The night before you leave for Merit, you ask Mitch to find Victor’s records, reading the reports of both deaths - his overdose and the one he caused. After his overdose, no one told you he died, and you had no idea about what happened with Angie.

“What are you doing?” Victor asks, suddenly behind you.

“Getting answers,” you reply, turning the computer off and walking away.

Victor follows you through the large glass doors onto the deck.

“So it’s okay for you to go digging around in my past when you won’t answer a single question about yours?” Victor snaps.

“What do you want to know? That I got hit by a truck and brought back to life two times? That I put everything I had left into that thesis? That the first time I realized I had a power was because of you?”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? You knew Eli and I were looking into EOs.”

“This isn’t my fault, Victor!”

“You were being reckless! Still are!”

“And you’re still stupid! Who in their right mind kills themselves, not once, but twice, just to get superpowers?” you yell, stepping closer to Victor.

“You have powers too! And we both know I’m not the stupid one here.”

“Are we seriously arguing over who’s smarter? We just killed several people, Victor!”

“We? There was no we when we had that group project and you deleted my work to replace it with your own.”

“You were wrong and you know it,” you reply, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.

“My GPA begs to differ.”

“You didn’t even graduate and you’re still infuriating.”

“And you’re smarter than you think, just won’t apply yourself like I do!”

“Shut up, Victor.”

“Make me.”

You grab his coat and pull him in, crashing your lips against his. His hands meet your waist, and he slows the kiss, moving his lips against yours. When you realize what you’re doing, you pull back.

“We- uh- we can’t stay here forever, your parents have to come back eventually,” you say quietly, Victor’s coat still in your hands.

“I know, but I don’t think we can do this alone. I can turn myself in and get another guy. Someone who can kill the unkillable.”

“That’s an incredibly stupid idea, Victor.”

“Do you have a better one?” Victor asks sharply.

“A few, actually. And they don’t require you to go back to prison and leave me here.”

“I’m not pulling you into this, too. If Eli kills me....”

“That’s not your decision, Vic.”

He takes a few deep breaths before nodding. “Okay,” he whispers.

Six Days Ago - Merit

You and Victor walk out of a store with several supplies, including Mitch’s chocolate milk and a first aid kit for Sydney’s gunshot wound. She’s only been with you for a few hours since you drove into Merit, but you feel attached to her already. Suddenly, you drop the bags as an intense pain overwhelms your senses.

“Vic?” you ask, looking up at him.

You watch, helpless, as he calls the police with an anonymous tip that escaped convict Victor Vale was seen in Merit.

“You lied to me!” you accuse through your tears. “Don’t do this!”

He kneels before you, brushing his finger over your cheekbone and kissing your forehead. “I’ll find you when I get out.”

“I’ll find you if you don’t. Please don’t be stupid about this,” you beg.

“See you around. Maybe study biology to pass the time and we can have a rematch test,” Victor says before standing and approaching the curb.

He raises his hands and falls to his knees as the police descend upon him and handcuff him. Even though you could stop it all with the wave of a hand, you watch, vowing to keep your promise or die trying. And you would have done better in that biology class if your teacher had been a fair grader.

You return to the room at the Esquire, tears still running down your face.

“What happened?” Sydney asks, rushing to your side when you enter.

“That idiot got himself arrested just to break out again with more help,” you answer, no emotion in your voice. “So we have to do something.”

“Okay, this is when Victor would tell you not to be stupid,” Mitch interjects.

“Well, Victor thinks I’m stupid all the time. Let’s prove him right,” you reply, shrugging.

“How?” Mitch asks.

“Sydney Vale here is going to visit her big brother, I’m going to crash a truck into a wall and we’re going to make sure Eli is ready for the taking as soon as Victor is out. Maybe not in that order.”

“Meaning?” Mitch asks carefully.

“No time for questions. You stay here and send me layouts of the jail and Sydney and I will bring Victor back soon.”

Sydney wordlessly follows you, more than happy to help you get Victor back. 

Five Days Ago - Merit Police Department

The time and place have been set: Midnight at Falcon Price. Now, to get the last member of your team back.

You and Sydney sit across from Victor, pretending to be checking on him until you create an excuse to leave.

“Is she okay?” Victor asks.

“Cover your head,” Sydney whispers.

Victor’s eyes widen when he hears brakes squeal and horns blowing, but he covers his head like Sydney asks. When the front end of a semi breaks through the wall before reversing out, Victor turns up the pain around him to distract everyone as he gets Sydney over the bulletproof divider and outside.

You rev the engine of the car you’re in and smile as Victor and Sydney climb in.

“I told you to wait,” Victor admonishes.

“We found him and we have a meeting. Four days, so find a new partner.”

“We need to figure out how Eli is finding them,” Victor mumbles.

“Mitch is working on it,” you reply.

“You know that was stupid, right?” Victor asks, changing the subject.

“Isn’t everything I do?”

“Maybe not everything,” Victor answers slowly, thinking about what happened at his parents’ house.

“Maybe not,” you agree, smiling.

10 Hours to Midnight - Merit

“You’re not going,” Victor repeats.

“Yes, I am. You need backup and I’m not just going to sit here,” you argue. You lower your voice to add, “Sydney may buy your promise that you’re coming back, but I’m not stupid enough to trust you again. At least not yet. So I go, or no one goes.”

“This is prison break day all over again,” Victor mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a hesitant yes.”

“Perfect. Then let’s finish this, Victor.”

“And then what?”

“Biology test then a shot at freedom,” you answer. “In that order.”

Midnight - Falcon Price

You promised you wouldn’t interfere until you had to, but you can’t watch Eli touch Victor again. The building isn’t solid, yet you stand as you hear a large truck nearby. Directing it toward the building, you hope it doesn’t hurt Victor any more than he already is. Angling it so it affects the side where Eli is pacing more than where Victor is kneeling, bloody and bruised, you increase the speed and run it straight into the south corner of the Falcon Price project.

The building tilts and drops several feet as the load shifts onto the truck wedge in the load-bearing beams. Eli stumbles backward as you rush toward Victor.

“I should have known,” Eli says with a dark chuckle. “Although I wish I’d thought to recruit you before you two realized the line between hate and tolerance is so thin.”

“You would know,” you snap, wrapping an arm around Victor.

“But you see,” Eli continues, moving to the edge and looking over. “A truck isn’t enough to stop me. I’m invincible because God isn’t finished with me.”

“And when He is?” you ask.

“He’ll find a way.”

“How do you think you get to heaven, Cardale?” you ask, stalling.

The light of a plane catches your attention.

“It’s Ever,” he nearly growls.

“I’ve always wondered if it’s a plane that takes you to heaven,” you continue, willing yourself to control more than just trucks.

“You are as stupid as Victor said,” Eli mutters before raising his voice to ask, “What’s with the heaven questions? Didn't get an answer when you died at Lockand?”

“Yes or no on the plane, Eli?” you yell over the growing noise of the plane engine. “Because I think it’s time to board!”

You toss yourself over Victor as the plane crashes into the edge of the building, pulling Eli out of sight. Holding onto the chair bolted to the ground, you keep Victor from sliding over the edge as he tries to remain conscious.

“Was that a plane? I thought it was just trucks,” he mumbles as he pulls himself up.

“Apparently not. Now we need to get out of here before all those cops get here.”

“Didn’t think of that when I killed Serena.”

“Don’t think about that, Vic. Let’s focus on getting back to Sydney and Mitch; you have a promise to keep.”

After Midnight - Vale House

“Hey,” you call as you walk onto the deck and close the door behind you. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Eli survived, but Snell took him in for murder. Serena was really powerful," he answers, turning to face you.

“You did it.”

“You did most of it. Without the truck and plane, he would have killed me.”

“Maybe. What now?”

“I don’t think this will ever be over,” he says, sighing. “But for now…”

He leans in, and you lay your hands on his chest as you ask, “Biology test?”

“Depends. What does the winner get?”

“Hmm. Two days without the loser calling them stupid,” you suggest.

“That’s it? A make or break biology test and that���s the prize?”

“The title, bragging rights, what more do you need, Vale?”

He gets closer before answering, “I think you know.”

“Ah, you want to read my thesis. Well, I’m sure we can work something out.”

Victor presses his forehead against yours. “I’m going to win, so how about I pick the prize?”

“At the rate you’re going, softie, it’ll probably be a prize for me too. If you win.”

“We’ll see.”

Victor steps back, and you take his hand to lead him inside. He watches you and mumbles, “I’m not sure there is a punishment with you, stupid.”

“Heard that!”

[erathene]

Not-Yet-Written-Fics Game

AKA sh*t from my OneNote "Ideas" page that no-one asked for but maybe I'll write ✨someday✨

Thanks for the tag @fishing4stars 😘 I've also added the likelihood of these ideas actually making it onto paper 😂

The Game-of-Thrones-Style longfic idea: An unnamed OC is the only child of the king in a kingdom east of Rûhn. The king is a widower and remarries, and OC gains a stepmother and stepbrother. The king then dies, suddenly and in mysterious circumstances. Stepmother ensures that stepbrother takes the crown, not OC who is the rightful heir, and stepbrother then makes alliances with Mordor. OC flees, taking refuge in the West. Gandalf hears of these events and does not want Mordor to have more allies, so tries to convince OC to take back their crown. Cue angst and indecision over whether or not they can face their stepfamily and grief for their father to reclaim what is rightfully theirs. Alliances are made, probably with the Elves of Mirkwood, who help OC reclaim the throne and turn the kingdom away from darkness. All events take place during the War of the Ring. Probability of this being written: 1/10 due to the world-building and OCs required to fabricate a whole new kingdom.

The tenth walker idea: Elrond sends a historian / scribe along with the Fellowship to document the ring's destruction as an important event in the history of Middle Earth. Eventual Female!Bookworm x Aragorn pairing because I am the author and I get to decide. Protective!Aragorn would be just *chef's kiss*. Probability of this being written: 6/10, I like it but it would likely break my 'don't write movie scenes' personal rule of writing LOTR fics 😅

The LOTR/Wheel of Time crossover: Nynaeve is going through the Arches to become Accepted, and the final Arch leads to Middle Earth. I think there would be a lot of potential to explore how the One Power works/doesn't work in ME, and how it is received by people if it does. I also think there are some similar traits between Nynaeve and Aragorn (wisdom/chieftain, healer, foraging/tracking) which would also be fun to explore: are they friends or do they get on each other's last nerve? Also what sin or fear does Nynaeve have to face in ME that means she was sent there in the first place? There are just so many angles that could be examined in this, if I had the time (no pun intended..). Probability of this being written: 5/10, I feel like I don't know enough about the Wheel of Time fandom, as I've only watched the TV series.

The Silmarillion/Rings of Power idea: Either an OC or Reader fic, haven't decided. Sauron has been brought to Numenor as a prisoner, OC is a prison guard. Sauron is extremely talkative, OC is very wary of him and the way he speaks; it's persuasive, manipulative and not like other prisoners. Over time, OC watches Sauron talk his way out of the prison cell and into society, climbing the ranks until they comes across him again at the royal court. OC tries to convince someone, anyone, that Sauron should be back in the cell where he belongs, but nobody listens except Elendil. The fic examines the forming of the Faithful and the events leading up to the downfall of Numenor, featuring ROP resident Hot Men™ Elendil and Halbrand. Probability of this being written: 4/10, requires more silmarillion reading, though that might increase when ROP Season 2 is released.

Aaaand that's all I have! Let's send a no-pressure tag to @emmanuellececchi, @torturedhoesdepartment and @inkedmoth (sorry if you have been tagged already 😅). If anyone else sees this and wants to join in, I'd love to see what's rattling around in your brain!

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

i am honestly so confused by your blog rn. how can you say that no one interacts with you or recognizes your work put into fics? you can go to your masterlist or archive and clearly see many comments, reposts, and recs of your work. half the time you respond to someone is you bitching you’re not in the fandom anymore or you’d never write for the characters again. i have seen pages long compliments and breakdowns and reblogs for stories and characters you hate the next moment later. there are many writers that want to have as much interaction u get and actually love their long term fandoms.

accurate depiction of me reading this

there is a big difference between saying 'no one interacts with me' and saying 'no one recognizes the work that I put into fics'

I acknowledge that plenty of people interact with my fics. And that is nice. But in a sense, that is - part of the problem? (Because it becomes a quantity over quality thing, and as I have said many times before - I dread having a popular fic and I hate writing for popular fandoms.) (But also, I cannot control what my brain is interested in, so I do end up writing for popular fandoms.) (Also, I unconsciously hate it when a bunch of people show up for one fic but not for another, because I know that people are not there for my writing and my style, there are just there for the smut or for the character - which is totally understandable, but then - why follow my blog?)

One of my biggest complaints is: people do not recognize the amount of hard work that goes into writing, editing, and polish a fic in order to post it. From the concept of the idea to posting - people don't know how hard it is. And this does go back to the writer to reader ratio, and so many other things.

I am still fully of the belief that people do not understand at a core level how much work goes into the kind of fanfiction I write - especially when battling chronic illness in order to write at least one fic per month. I keep thinking about what Crane said to Dick in S3:

Sprezzatura. The ability to make something very difficult look very effortless.

I think that I have that when it comes to writing fanfiction. I know that I have a lot of talent and skill when it comes to the particular genre of fics that I write, and I know that in terms of the original idea to the end product - most of my fics turn out how I want them to, so I would say that they were pretty flawless.

So I make writing a good fic look pretty easy. When it is not at all easy for me. It is very hard. And if you compared the amount of unfinished drafts (and even just ideas that are in my head that will never get written and have never even made it to paper) to the amount of finished fics I have, then my success rate is about - 20%, probably closer to 10%. But I haven't calculated it exactly.

But you guys never get to see what I consider my failures. (And when you do, I try to ignore the existence of those fics.) (And generally, I just consider my failures to be unfinished fics.)

Basically, what I'm trying to say is - you don't see all the struggle I go through in order to get a finished, well polished fic in front of your eyes. So that is one thing.

The other major thing is - apparently I change fandoms too much? Which I didn't even think was a fucking issue. I mean I knew it annoyed some people, but I didn't care. Because I can't force myself to write fanfiction for a fandom that my brain doesn't care about - because those fics would take months longer, and they would suck. Due to burnout and my own disinterest.

Saying that 'half the time' I respond to comments, it's me saying that I'm not in the fandom anymore (like... it sounds like someone is salty that I haven't written for their fandom in a while?) - like dude, sorry, I'm not one of those fucking blogs writing AUs that are 7 times removed from the original source material, delusional pretending that I'm still writing about the canon characters when those are just OCs wearing name tags in an effort to keep myself interested in popular characters. (If writing that kind of fanfiction actually makes other people happy, then good for them - but to me, it always feels like a lifeless bid to keep their blog in the spotlight and to keep their followers' eyes on them with the names of popular characters. But oh well.) I go where my creative juices take me. and that can be to very obscure characters (like characters from one-off horror movies) or to (sadly) very popular characters - where I will write three fics and then fuck off. I have always been multifandom.

Also I have NEVER said that I will 'never' write for certain characters again. The only time I have sworn off writing for certain fandoms completely is writing for kpop rpf. Other than that, all fandoms I have written for are still on the table for the future. Like - what the fuck?

I have also never said that I hate certain characters. And yes - I do tend to switch fandoms a lot, but it's due to my creative interests, and follow my autistic hyperfixations. Fanfiction isn't supposed to be forced like fucking homework. It is supposed to bring joy. And writing for a range of vastly different characters on an unpredictable schedule - brings me joy.

Also, the 'pages long' responses, often come from the same people over and over again, and shout out to them, they are fucking lovely !!!! Shout out to Rotten Anon, and @star-mum and @pikispixies and lately @sreidisms - who have been my biggest supporters. But 4 or 5 people consistently (and wonderfully) showing up to write essay comments on fics is not the same as 100s of people always leaving engaging comments all the time (which is what you seem to think I have on my blog??)

Like the ratio is fucked. Having over 1,000 followers or a fic getting over 500 likes and only getting 2 or 3 engaging comments per fic - is a very strange ratio. And I am not saying that everyone has to write a fucking essay, but if you ask me a question about the fic in the comments, I will literally wanna kiss you on the mouth nasty style, and I will appreciate it 10x more than you just saying 'your writing is good'.

and @nctzenkane is my biggest champion behind the scenes, my literal muse for most of the fics I have ever written (and he will probably be scathing when he reads your comment lmao)

also - two or three passive aggressive and selfish comments can ruin a fic and can douse my creativity, even if one person leaves a long, beautiful essay comment encouraging me. sadly, our human brains remember the negative more than the positive

and when people leave long essay comments, I try my hardest to respond in an engaging way (even when I am exhausted from my chronic illness, I try my hardest to engage them, even if respond to their comments can take hours of my time, which takes time away from writing more fics - I wanna show them how appreciative I am of their comments) - I have never once told someone to fuck off because I'm not in that fandom anymore. literally, show me the fucking receipts to back up your delusion. please

yes, other writers who have smaller blogs would love to have more comments on their fics, but they too would feel annoyed if all the comments they were getting were 'Part 2???' or felt like someone's personal vlog on their fic - commentating their personal issues with your fic (like it being immoral or unfinished) rather than talking to the actual person who wrote it - seemingly not even realizing that there is a person behind the fic who wrote it.

I don't want more comments on my fics. I want different ones. I don't need to be patted on the head and told my writing is good - yes, those comments are nice, but I can only say 'thank you' so many times before I feel like a plastic, fake bitch - I want to discuss the content of my fics. I want to discuss the plot. The only thing that is different about every single one of my fics is the plot - the themes, how the characters act. and that is what I want to disucss in the comments section. that is what I find mentally enriching.

the only reason I post my fics is so that people might find them and enjoy them and so that I can leave a lasting positive effect on this earth, and so that I can find some enjoyment in discussing the fucking story I worked so hard on.

so please - tell me what is so wrong with that

[speedofsoundsketches]

I like you’re shadow and jolt comic giving me insperstion to create my own comic with my oc and shadow tbh I pictured my oc and shadow doing the same as shadow and jolt which is giving me courage to do my own comic with them fancomic obviously but do you have any tips on how development of a comic would work how long did it take for you to plan the comic

I've been working on this comic for about five years this coming November. From the start of developing the story to when the first comics were posted, it was about a three or four month long period of early development.

To be honest, I'm never NOT developing the comic. Each update is sort of treated as a self-contained session and while I have a plan of how everything connects, you don't really know how it'll actually work out until you're making the pages themselves and piecing the puzzle pieces together to make it all coherent. If you go to my Patreon, you'll see all the raw, first drafts of my comics and how much they changed in the final pages.

The following are my personal tips but I highly recommend also reading this post by the creator of Lackadaisy on the same subject. I followed her example for my work a lot and thankfully she's open about her secrets. :)

Tip #1: Know what your End Goal is for your comic

A lot of eager hopefuls start with a strong passion for their stories and it seems clear in your head how it will pan out. Over time, your interest starts to dwindle, passion is replaced with procrastination, writer's block occurs and you wonder why this thing you loved so much has become a total chore.

This is often due to not knowing the overall POINT to making your comic at all. What's the theme? The message? What do you and your audience GET out of it?

Shadow and Jolt has a clear progression and ending in mind that all relates to the Themes and Messages I want to impart to my readers. Try dissecting your favorite Sonic stories (or any story in general) and analyze why you like them and what made them impactful to you. Determine their themes and messages then observe how each part of the story, character arcs and such were written to serve them. What were the creators trying to tell you or make you experience?

That's the difference between a story with intention versus one that's confused or directionless. Because even during writer's block, if you know what message you're trying to tell, it gives you a lighthouse to paddle towards and keep you from getting lost in the ocean of vague notions.

Tip #2: Script It Out!

Before I ever drew a single comic for Shadow and Jolt, the first thing I did to help me develop a more solid plan was to write scripts. Some were fully realized with dialogue and action sequences. Others were outlines to help me see the full picture from beginning to end.

I've written over 30 different scripts. Many are just a few pages each but some are about 50+ pages.

And guess what? Every single one of them STINK.

These are not my best work because they don't need to be. They're meant for playing around with character dialogues, motivations, relationships and manner of speech. If a script resonates with me enough, I'll try doing a draft of it in comic form to see how it feels on paper and continue tweaking things from there. It was such a horribly cliche story at first but it's ok because to determine what's wrong, I need to see it actually in front of me and not as some ethereal mess of images in my mind.

Tip #3: Gather, Research and Conceptualize

I cannot stress enough how much doing this has helped with this project.

References I used included the games I liked the most, their production history, interviews with Sonic Team, compiled images/inspirations I found around the internet, etc. I used all this material to strengthen the ideas I had so I could start drawing concepts.

Characters, vehicles, environments.... everything and anything gets concepts. Lots of sketches, sometimes with color. I've possibly gone through almost 10+ sketchbooks for just Shadow and Jolt alone. There were a lot of things that needed testing and fleshing out, especially because it's such a big project. (and I'm just one little ol' me ;-;)

From the beginning, the plan was that Shadow and Jolt would be based on the games so my research was spent digging into the entire timeline and reminding myself of what the games are about and how to capture their essence as close as I can. I'm not sure what setting you plan to base this story on but you'll have a different set of research to do if you plan to include things from something else like Archie, Boom or whatever.

Tip #4: BEWARE SCOPE CREEP

In game development, teams start by deciding on the full scope of the project and settle on what's going to be in the game. The team makes projections on how long it'll take to complete it, set deadlines and then move to act on it.

A few weeks into production, maybe you decide to add a new animated action for the main character. Maybe then you add in a new weapon that will require another full move set to program and animate. Maybe you want to add a new character that you came up with during lunch. Maybe you have a whole extra side quest that adds a whole new plot point that adds even MORE characters who all have unique functions and animations you'll have to make-

See how quickly that can happen? That's scope creep. You start adding way more than was initially planned, thus it ends up extending the time it takes to actually finish the project.

Obviously, it's less dire than a product meant for sale but the lessons are the same. With any changes you make, be mindful of how that's going to effect you getting the story done and if it even really adds anything to your End Goal.

Remember, you only have so much energy in a given day to dedicate to your comic. Manage it wisely!

Tip #5: Live life!

This is a bit of an odd one maybe but for me at least, it's super valuable.

I've mentioned in previous posts how real world experiences helped inspire my comic. Part of what makes Sonic's world feel so lived in is the dedication the team put into making each level feel that way! Sonic Unleashed is maybe the best example of this point. I feel that Sonic was made by people who not only wanted to make a fun game series but who use it to celebrate the actual act of adventure. Living life, seeing new sights, meeting new people, eating unique cuisine, you catch my drift!

Some of my best ideas came from having a lived experience. You won't be able to write authentic stories staying in a bubble of your own making. Outside of my fancomic, I like going on long walks, exploring places or simply hanging out with my friends. So my final suggestion for you is to live a full life and be inspired by it! Nothing beats reality anyway. :)