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themadchatterer · 4 years

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My Creative Burst is Intrusive . . . but So Satisfying

Recently it occurred to me that my have-to-dos are distractions from living a balanced life. Every time I would think about my creative interests, I’d remind myself that am still working on my home, reclaiming space, decluttering, and reorganizing. And then the deep clean so I can hire the needed handyman, carpenters and painters. The necessary joys of having a house—or in my case a condo. I also realized that I am totally unenthusiastic about it all, even though I know I’ll love the result.

Creative dreams deferred What I really longed to do was dabble in paints and creative projects. I had a fresh supply art supplies bought more than a year ago. I wanted to finally focus on the last part of the memory place I had created to honor my Shih Tzu, Magnet, put down in 2018 after living 18 1/2 years. All that was needed was to choose images that would be framed or compiled into a collage. And I felt bad that I wasn’t working on my French lessons or taking up a musical instrument again. How long was I going to keep these things on hold until I finished the house projects?

During pandemic living, I have admired and resented all the people who showed off their successful projects done while hunkering at home. For a while I put it down to folks having the time to produce because they were not working. But I knew plenty of people were working and still managed to create and produce. The problem had to be me and my lack of focus and discipline. Apparently, I didn’t want it bad enough. And anyway, I still had the house to do, so one day . . .

The holidays were fast approaching. Being deadline driven (honed from a career as a writer and editor where deadlines are everything), I approached them with some solid plans. One of them was finally completing a couple of photography gifts for my family. I had bought the frames—a year ago—and was way overdue selecting images, which always seemed like it would be fun. I could never figure out why I was forgetting to do this project even when I had “time.” Right, time. I vowed I was going to make it happen no matter what, which meant setting deadlines.

Forward and unfurling To meet my deadlines meant stopping full stop, amidst the Christmas decorating, cleaning, and the desire to make cookies for gift-giving. I jumped in selecting images, editing and resizing. I had images printed and set to work framing them so I could get them in the slow mail to save money as the frames were oversized. When I was done I was so happy to have finally achieved my goal. And that was when I recognized it—a new feeling. Completing that project started something unfurling inside me. It would take me another month to realize that finally I was feeding my creative hunger pains.

To keep focused, once the new year started I decided to make a vision board rather than come up with a hackneyed new years resolutions list. To my way of thinking, my vision board would remind me of things I wanted to be part of my 2021 life. I did an electronic version, which turned out to be way more inventive than I had imagined it would be.

A good jolt Fast forward a couple of weeks and I happened to look at my vision board again. I saw the image of writing. Yes, there are several “open” projects in my folder, plus didn’t I say I was going to write a couple of articles for posting? I looked and saw the image of paints. Oh yeah, that’s right, I want to do art projects. My vision board also reminded me that I hadn’t really pushed past the idea of learning to play a simple instrument to get started musically. All this plus reading a post from a friend that pointed to how important it is to create and all of a sudden I had a huge mental jolt. If not now, then when? So without over thinking it, I declared to myself that I was going to work on my art right then and there. And that’s just what I did.

In the middle of reorganizing storage (I had two new shelving systems to put together) I gave into an art project that had been on my mind for a few years. It meant painting an old frame I had and repurposing an art board. For over a week I worked on my project. And when it was done, I could not have been more delighted. Not only was I pleased but I was able to refresh a wall space for my office nook that every time I look, I am simply happy. And I knew. I couldn’t suppress my creative self anymore, just letting a bit of personal writing out here and there. I am being who I am supposed to be at this moment no matter how impractical the timing or environment might seem.

“Mess and Confusion” I read a blog once about stifling creativity. Never did I think I would be stifling my own artistic instincts. At one point the blogger wrote: “What I do know is that most great creative ideas emerge from a swirl of chaos. You must develop a part of yourself that is comfortable with mess and confusion.”

I am embracing mess and confusion. And inconvenience and intrusiveness. They are contrary to popular thinking or how I’ve lived most of my life, yet I’m learning not to care. Plus, the bonus is that the more I give into my creative spirit, the more energetic I feel overall. Clearly this is part of my creative-life balance. I can no longer deny that.

So, today, instead of doing another load of laundry, cleaning the bathroom, or taking out the recycling, I made a great cup of coffee and ordered a recorder so I can surround myself with fledgling musical sounds of my own making. Then I started selecting images for a photo project that is two years overdue. And I’m finishing this piece that will be a new blog post. I’m smiling because no matter what the landscape, my creative life will find a crack, burst through and make itself intrusively known.

#creativity #arts #crafts #music

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spideypoolbigbang · 6 years

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For ease of access we’ve compiled a list of all the teams and their creations in a google spreadsheet which can be found here. We’ve also placed those same links under the cut! In addition to the masterlist, we also have a wonderful collection on AO3 of all the fics for this year. Please check it out when you can! Thank you again for this wonderful first year and we hope to see you all when sign ups open for SPBB 2019! A huge thanks to @jdragon122 for the banner!

Title: De Testis Absentia: On the Absence of a Witness

Author: @nimohtar

Artist: @limeonik Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Final Word Count: 11,339

Summary: In Ancient Rome, Petrus Bennio Pacor lives under the generous patronage of Antonius Ennius Starca. When Antonius’ witness in a court hearing fails to appear, Antonius invokes a law to summon said witness - but sends Petrus to do the deed in his stead.

The witness? One Vado Vinstinian Vilsoni, a former soldier currently trying to eke out a living in the poorer area of the city as a debt-enforcer - and wholly uninterested in the rules and regulations of Rome.

Somehow, Petrus must persuade Vado to do his duty; Vado intends to avoid it as long as possible…especially if it means Petrus continues to come calling at his door.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: Make Myself Believe

Author: @common-white-dude

Artist: @mere-mortifer

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No major warnings

Word Count: 20142

Summary: Omegas had always been trained in special institutions to be good mates for the Alpha that chooses them. Omegas are supposed to do whatever their Alpha says. No questioning, no second thoughts. No freedom.

For Peter Parker, life had always been horrible unpredictable and erratical, and he had thought that the only constant in his life will be being a servant for his mate.

However, even that won’t even be as Peter had thought. Not after he ends up with Wade Wilson, an Alpha that seems to like to behave on the exact opposite of what Peter had learned all his life.

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Title: A Study of Stairways

Author: sparkstarthetrashcan (@sparkstar-trash)

Artist: @ninja4646

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Major Character Death

Word Count: 14,696

Summary: Wade Wilson is a bad student. Poor grades, no attention span and not a soul to help him. Even if he tries to study he’s always distracted by his phone or a supernaturally attractive boy who showed up out of nowhere, whispering answers in his ear.

Peter, almost got into Harvard, Parker spends his time tutoring students. He’s smart enough and he’s got nothing else to do, so he might as well. But Wade’s different. He doesn’t seem to want Peter for his brain like everyone else, Wade cares about him.

Problem is, Peter isn’t normal. He’s a ghost.

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Title: TheRealDeadpool posted

Author: JessJesstheBest (saywhatjessie)

Artist: Sophie (temporary-teddycup)

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: No Major Warnings

Word Count: 6,133

Summary:

Carly Shep @Spider-butt Sooo… has anyone else noticed how cozy Spider-Man and the Merc with a Mouth seem to be lately? (14 retweets, 74 likes)

Or the Isn’t it Bromantic comic run from the perspective of in-universe social media.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: Searching for the World

Author: @Salios

Artist: @Chez

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence, Blood and Gore

Word Count: 15k+

Summary: Fallout!Au

Peter is a mutant from a vault looking for help saving his uncle, who is interred in a failing cryo pod. He makes his way from his vault in Queens to Manhattan to Stark industries, the driving force behind Vault-Tec before the war. But being a mutant he know it’ll be a difficult trip. Ends up getting held up and Wade, being a nosy asshole, steps in. Offers his services and Peter accepts though he has no idea what kind of payment Wade is expecting

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: His Apartment, His Safehouse

Author(s): @flowery-musings

Artist: @x3nia

Rating: teen

Warnings: slight angst, talks of suicide and depression, deadpool-typical speech and violence

Word Count: 5297 words

Summary: In one universe, Peter considers the place his apartment. In another, Wade considers the place his safehouse. Confusion ensues when Peter, after a tiring class day, meets what appears to be the one and only Deadpool, standing in his apartment, who he knows to most certainly nothing more than a fictional character

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Title: I Need to Tell You Something

Author: Pineau_noir

Artist: AhumokIo

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Word Count: 21k

Summary: Coming to screens worldwide this February.

When Peter Parker was 15 he was bitten by a spider on a school trip. The next day he woke up a little… changed. His whole world was turned upside down.

Both figuratively and literally.

As in, he was upside down, hanging off the bed, clinging to his now ruined bedposts. With his brand spankin-new tentacles.

Eight of them to be exact. Yes, apparently in Peter’s universe, the evil scientists at Oscorp spliced an octopus’ DNA with a spider. A spider who decided to snack on Peter.

To try and have what passes for normal, he moved in with the Avengers. But almost five years of living with the Hulk, Captain America, and Iron Man are definitely not the norm for most people. Add in a flirty leather-clad mercenary, who keeps trying to feed him, and he knows his life has veered severely off-course. He thought he knew how to handle the strange things in his life, but he never expected Deadpool.

Starring Peter Parker as Spider-Man and Wade Wilson as Deadpool, with music by Carly Rae Jepsen.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: That Which Binds Us

Author(s): @343enderspark

Artist: @catsauceeartofficial

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: Temp Character Death, Comic Book Violence

Word Count: 9193

Summary: Normal people just feel emotions from their soulmate, which get stronger as they get closer. Hardly inconvenient.

But of course it’s not that simple for our dear boys. Wade’s good ole time in the Weapon X program turned those handy emotional feelings into a pretty little white box that likes to keep him and Yellow company. Poor Peter got the short end of the genetic lottery, being one of the rare humans that feel their soulmate’s pain instead of emotion.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: Different Strokes

Author: @thatvixenchick

Artist: @amazing-spiderling

Rating: E

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Word Count: 8494

Summary: Peter’s just trying to live his life as a normal omega — as normal as an omega can be after being bitten by a radioactive spider. What he certainly did not need while out of costume and quickly falling into heat was to run into Deadpool. Alphas usually didn’t take kindly to what happened to Peter during his unique, super-powered heats. Turns out, Deadpool is the absolute opposite of upset about it.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: Petey, we did it, we outran the Blob

Author: @joaas

Artist: @onthestraightandnarrowpath

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Word Count: 29, 731

Summary: Deadpool just wants to find and kill the guy who turned his face into the biological version of a Jackson Pollock painting. Is that too much to ask for? Apparently it is, because the Avengers just won’t let him be and get his revenge in peace. Also, Spidey keeps showing up and calling him Wade like they’re best buds now or something, what’s up with that?

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: And Words Are Futile Devices

Author(s): SordidDetailsFollowing

Artist: Nanakoblaze

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Word Count: 30k

Summary:

Peter doesn’t think he’s lonely. He’s too busy to be lonely. He’s twenty-two, working on his PhD and holding down a shitty job at the Daily Bugle, not to mention his nightly extra-curricular activities. He’s too busy for friends, and he’s certainly too busy for romantic interests. And yet, shockingly, apparently everyone in his life thinks he needs to stop being an anti-social recluse and get laid.

So Peter enters the wide, wonderful world of online dating. He doesn’t expect to find his soul mate, or even a friend, and he’s definitely not looking for hook ups. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, really, until one Wade W. Wilson catches his eye and captures his heart with risqué dog pics and a concerning obsession with cannibalistic serial killers.

This is a love story. A sweet, inevitable journey towards each other. There is humor, and melancholy, and a touch of both gravitas and levity to the weeks that trickle by. But really it’s just an account of the slow, magnetic movement of Peter towards Wade, and Wade towards Peter.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: Spidey Spidey, Give Me Your **** (Love, Suckers. Love.) Anyway… I Got A Bad Case Of Loving You… (Or The One Where Peter is a Nurse But Not In a Kinky Way)

Author(s): Lilian

Artist: Lizardyne

Rating: E

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Word Count: 5k+

Summary: Nurse Parker is sent to make sure one of the patients in his hospital is recovered enough to be discharged. He doesn’t expect to recognize the scarred man as Deadpool, his sort of friend/college/person he might have certain feelings for.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: The Hearts in your Eyes

Author: BloodthirstyMerc

Artist: Cynspidey

Rating: E (explicit)

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Word Count: 72k+

Summary:

The day Peter meets Deadpool is the worst day of his life.

——

After trying so hard to forget his presumably long-lost heartmate, Peter finally gives into the feelings he’s acquired for Wade, the one person who’s unintentionally helped him mend his broken heart.

Miscommunications lead to Peter thinking that Wade had found his heartmate while they were together, resulting in him spiralling into a self-destructive depression.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: The Firsts and the Last

Author: Violet_arabian

Artist: Moemai

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death

Word Count: 20k

Summary: Peter managed to survive the Vulture, get in good graces with Tony Stark, and finish the school year in a neat bow. Finally, his life as Spider-Man had begun. Sure, he still took care of petty theft and the occasional grand theft, but he had also been acknowledged. Which meant that there were more big-time baddies to fight and wounds to tend. Yet, for some reason, no one told him that villains or anti-heroes would be so infuriatingly persistent.

From the start of his senior year to the next three chapters of his life, Peter faces dark alleyways, high rooftops, close calls, and family time. All while dealing with Deadpool, unaware of the heavy and dark future looming above them.

Fic Masterpost | Artist Masterpost

Title: What you need

Author: Neonbat

Artist: Chez

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None apply

Word Count: 18,158

Summary: Peter Parker, for lack of a better description, is having a shit time. An incident at school leads him to rash decisions and when he finds himself in the middle of New York alone and at night, he knows he’s in trouble. A mysterious man rescues him in a tight spot and despite Wade being kind of terrifying in his own right, he turns out to be the friend Peter needs, and in the end, the one Wade needs as well.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: we were never supposed to make it half this far

Author: scarlett_starlett

Artist: milkshake-sprinkels

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Underage, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking Word Count: 16k Summary: High school is rough. Uncle Ben is gone and being bullied has always been a problem for Peter Parker since he was little. But being best friend-adjacent to Midtown High School’s hunky quarterback star Wade Wilson is probably one of the few shining moments in his otherwise unlucky life—even if Wade is friends with Flash, his childhood tormentor, and distressingly straight (since, y'know, Peter has more-than-best-friend feelings for him. But that’s all part of that Parker Luck™)

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Title: Turning Tides

Author: @snarkysnartes

Artist: @amazing-spiderling

Rating: T

Warnings: A/B/O, Pining, Jealousy,

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Wade Wilson really didn’t believe in true mates until he met Peter Parker. Now, now he knows that they’re meant to be and he wants nothing more than to show Peter and his kingdom that love.

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Title: Feral

Author: MsCaptainWinchester

Artist: Nhrive

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Torture (off screen), Stalking (past), Sexism, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Full-Shift Wolf-On-Wolf Sex, Mpreg, Discussion of Potential Miscarriage

Word Count: 48k+

Summary: When Peter comes across a skinny, sickly feral wolf in the woods while he’s out hunting, it’s hard to remember that the wolf is a person, too. An alpha, and likely a dangerous one given his size. The wolf was Peter’s Snarly, his giant, scared wolf he takes care of, gives head scritches to, chilly river baths, and treats. So many treats.

What he doesn’t know, what he could never have guessed, is that his sweet Snarly is the most wanted alpha in the kingdom, Alpha Killer Wade Wilson. As the two of them begin their strange courting, will Peter be able to come to terms with Wade’s dark past? Or will that past come knocking on his door to remind him?

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Title: Don’t find no one but me

Author(s): @Garsloup

Artist: @Aredesification

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Word Count: 30K+

Summary:

Norman Osborn is an asshat. Peter knew that much, but he didn’t expect the man to jeopardize a viable research just because Peter is the best and – in his opinion – the only viable option to be in charge of his own project. But the CEO seems to be out for blood, and if Peter wants to pursue his project he has to mate with an omega. This looks like a terrible idea, the worst to be honest. Until it doesn’t.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: This Title Makes me Jurassic

Author(s): Milkshake-Sprinkels

Artist: Kirago Banner by @jdragon122

Rating: Pg-13, Teen and Up

Warnings: No warnings Apply

Word Count: 6000

Summary: As the COO of Oscorp Industries, Peter Benjamin Parker is in charge of the biggest project yet, the Indominous Rex. When things start going array, Peter must call upon his old flame and renowned dinosaur handler, Wade Wilson. With Peter’s niece and nephew, and Wade’s Daughter, they must save the park from annihilation.

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Title: Through Dangers Untold and Hardships Unnumbered

Author(s): Born To Be Wilde

Artist: ginogollum

Rating: Teen audiences and up

Warnings: kidnapping, drinking, swearing, mild violence, weaponry, bugging, mild gore, vomit.

Word Count: 20-25k

Summary:

“Spiderman kidnapped a child?”

“I know right! Well technically he took her into super protective custody because there’s this drug lord trying to kill her to get to me so Spidey nabbed her from my apartment and hid her away and then he’s going to put her with a new family. It’s all very complicated and grey area and a bit like that David Bowie movie.”

Actually it’s exactly like that David Bowie movie. TDUAHU is the first instalment in a three book series, How Are You Enjoying My Labyrinth? All spideypool, all labyrinth. This first story has Wade having to traverse New York through problems and pitfalls all to bring Ellie home. But will Peter, who of course is sure he is doing the right thing, be able to keep Wade away for the full 13 hours? And will everyone be able to keep their feelings in check?

Will post later due to emergency. Please check back at a later date!

Title: Healing Invisible Scars Author(s): @hey-im-amber @enocca Artist: @amazing-spiderling Rating: Mature Warnings: implied rape, drugging. abuse and homelessness Word Count: 6k Summary: Wade is an omega who’s escaped his past alpha who has done everything he could to break him. Homeless, a kind stranger invites him home and tries to help the omega as well.as he can. But with Wade hiding his past, how long can good things stay good? Peter tries to help but he refuses to think this kindness comes without a price.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: Picture This

Author(s): @RansomNoteworthy

Artist: @Thelastpinecone

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Temporary Character Death

Word Count: 13k

Summary: Spider-Man and Deadpool are just acquaintances and occasional colleagues. But when Spider-Man is photographed being rescued and carried by Deadpool, the resulting media coverage means very different things to Peter and Wade, when everyone assumes they’re in a relationship together. A fake-dating, acquaintances-to-friends-to-lovers story, with all the humor and angst SpideyPool can provide, as Peter deals with his growing feelings and Wade copes with a very unpredictable relationship, and the Avengers are judging the whole thing from the sidelines.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: Wade Wilson’s Super Awesome Mixtape of Love to Peter Parker

Author: sadieb798

Artist: Black Sodas

Rating: E

Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Gore, Canon Typical Violence

Word Count: 15K

Summary: There’s a body lying on his carpet.

Peter’s breath catches in his throat, it feels like his heart just took a swan-dive into his stomach and landed with a plop.

Oh God, oh God, his brain chants frantically. He immediately lurches toward his desk, reaching for his phone, but he overcompensates and knocks it off. He watches, breath caught in his throat, as it falls to the carpet with a soft thud and bounces under his bed.

Peter immediately dives for it. The phone’s not very far from him, so he doesn’t need to stretch as he reaches for it. His fingers grasp the beveled corners and he pulls it towards him. Instinctively he looks up, and instantly regrets it.

The white lenses of a superhero mask meet his, and blink.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Deadpool asks, his voice gravelly as he waves a hand.

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost

Title: Off the Record

Author: @crookedswingset

Artist: @c0njidraws

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Sexual Content

Word Count: 130K

Summary: Peter Parker is a corporate lackey whose sole job is to root out problem executives who waste Oscorp’s money and time. Wade Wilson is a reserve Avenger on the hunt for a prize even Iron Man couldn’t nail down–the real identity of everyone’s favorite webhead. Too bad most people think Spider-Man is Harry Osborn.

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Title: A Different Life

Author(s): mxximum-effort

Artist: adumbtree-draws

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 10.7k

Summary: Peter Parker and Wade Wilson’s marriage was over before it even had a chance to begin. But now, twelve years later, Peter Parker is almost-happily in a relationship with Harry, about to get married to him. He receives a letter informing him that Wade Wilson is filing for divorce- they’ve been married all along. Suddenly, Wade is back in his life, and Peter can’t help wondering what life might have been like if he’d stayed with Wade. As they navigate their divorce, and their current failing relationships, the pair find themselves falling for each other once again.

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Title: Alone: The Death of a Hero

Author(s): Raxwend, Anonygod

Artist: MagniloquentChanteuse

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Major Character Death

Word Count: 17739

Summary: Six months after a devastating war between the United States and Canada over a new form of renewable energy Peter Parker is moving through life feeling like an empty husk. Now that most of the population of New York has been infected with a debilitating disease created by Canadian scientists, he finds himself feeling less useful as Spider-Man as he patiently waits for Tony Stark to develop a cure for the disease. While he still tries to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, his self appointed duty has become increasingly difficult as he faces those infected. The infected have become insanely violent, lashing out at anything that moves with unbelievable strength for a human as they are fueled by one primal instinct: fighting. Peter is torn between trying to fight those infected while ensuring that they are still safe for when Tony releases the cure, and a mercenary that he’s fallen in love with that tries to convince him it’d be better for everyone if he just ends their suffering.

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#spbb masterlist #spbb2018 #spbb 2018 masterlist #spbb artists #spbb writers #spideypool #spideypool fics #spideypool fanart #fanart #fanfiction #spideypool fanfiction #spiderman #deadpool #spideypool big bang

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myfangirllists · 5 years

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Fanfiction List (USUK)

A compilation of my favorite USUK works!

Completed and uncompleted

Dead Ringer by Fire_Bear

Arthur is having lunch with a co-worker when a couple pass by and tell him he looks exactly like the man an entire art exhibition is based on. Dragged to the gallery, he finds not only some amazing art but also someone he has not seen in years...

Type: One shot

Keep Quiet by AkaiShinda (orphan_account)

Starting from a prompt. After being saved by a stranger, Arthur is waken by his savior; a young man with an unusual mission in the evenings and who protects him even from himself in a surprisingly natural, tender way. They don't know each other, but Alfred is determined to help him in recovery. After getting to know him slightly better Arthur is dazed to realize, Alfred's personality is the unification of enigmas and on the other side, pure and clear intentions. He can't help but stick around and carefully mend the pieces together... only to find entirely new purposes to live for.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Incomplete

The Languages of Love by merakily (fengbi)

Arthur and Alfred first meet as university students in a coffee shop. This is how they came to spend their lives together.

Type: One shot

From Me To You by a_forgotten_note

After going through three several years of schooling, Alfred comes to the startling realization that he had no plans after college. Without much else to go for, he enrolls in the military for four years of initial deployment. But Afghanistan becomes very lonely very quick... In hopes of rekindling an old friendship, Alfred writes to his old college roommate. The only question is: will their letters relieve his homesickness, or will it only become worse?

Type: One shot

A Week in a Hotel by bluekujira

This is a fanfiction I wrote for my friend (zombiepurplefox on tumblr) based off a prompt she sent me!

I apologize for any errors I did go back an edit this but I still might have missed stuff!

Also I changed the prompt slightly. Instead of living together they stay in a hotel together.

The Prompt: 'You live in the apartment above me and your water pipes burst and is flooding into my apartment and you can hear me yelling so you come down to my apartment to see what's going on and witness me standing in my kitchen/bathroom/whatever, holding an umbrella, screaming at the water pouring out of my ceiling and crying because I have no idea what to do and we both just kinda stand there in shock as my stuff gets ruined and you let me crash at your place til my place gets fixed cause you feel bad' (CREDIT TO shittemore on tumblr for this prompt)

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Complete

Forever Mine by anon posted at hetalia_kink

Dating a serial killer!AU. Arthur was attacked by a serial killer on the bus on his way home.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Complicated Shadow by Ellarose C

The US government's witness protection program has never had a witness die while under its protection. After innocent civilian Arthur Kirkland witnesses a murder ordered by the Vargas mob, will a hero's protection be enough to keep the record clean?

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

♡ Cuckoo in the Nest by PennyLane

Human AU. Arthur is a famous novelist in hiding from the paparazzi after he is publicly humiliated when he is left standing at the altar. Alfred is the very competent personal assistant hired by Arthur’s agent to keep him hidden and safe while he completes his newest novel, the novel that just might change all their lives. [Previous Spain/England relationship.]

Type: One Shot

American in America by Ferrero13

America, being America, says something he should've known better than to say in his own airport, whereupon he is taken in for questioning and finds it very difficult to explain why this particular nineteen-year-old seems to be as politically active as the President himself.

Type: One Shot

Work Your Magic by PixieDust291

Arthur is a wizard who's being forced into an arranged marriage despite his protests. Though, it seems he is saved by a magical Scottish fold named Iggy. With Iggy as his familiar Arthur finds himself not only falling in love with a human but also surrounded by a sea of lies and deception. When nothing else makes sense, what can one believe to be the truth?

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Divination's Greatest Flaw by rae1112

Arthur Kirkland, master of Divination, fancied himself a prophetic matchmaker. His best friends would agree...if only he could make a prophetic match for himself.

Pottertalia.

Type: Two Shot

Day One by mandathegreat

“Day One: My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I am currently in Atlanta, Georgia. I am recording myself, and my experiences, because—well, I don’t know. I think it’s the end of the world—“

Arthur and Alfred meet at the end of the world. They are going to have to learn to survive.

USUK Walking Dead AU

Type: One Shot

A Proof of Diplomacy by orphan_account

“If you leave me, I’ll kill you. I could kill you here and now.”

After the war, in his most vulnerable years, Arthur, or Great Britain, is at his most dishonest. He lies to himself more than anyone. Apart from Alfred, the United States, perhaps. He lies when he says that he doesn't believe Alfred's lies and hopes, his beautiful, beautiful lies.

Type: One Shot

Standing In Your Heart by amine

"Arthur had gone from spending the afternoons with his friend to having his magical training increased tenfold. Warlocks would be needed to ensure that Spades maintained the upper hand in the war, and the Kirkland family had a long tradition of powerful magic. Arthur hadn’t complained and had instead thrown himself into his studies so as to be an asset to the new king. His love for the kingdom of his birth demanded it.

More than that, his love for Alfred demanded it."

Type: One Shot

Communication is Key by inkwells_writing

Arthur had good friends he supposed.

But right now, Arthur hated them. They were just trying to be nice, but really. They thought he was single, and that he had been single for a very long time. And yes, he had been single for two years before he started dating Alfred, but he was now in a three month-long relationship. A three-month long happy relationship. A three-month long happy, and sadly, secret relationship.

They just had to go and set him up on a bloody blind date. Arthur just had no idea how he was going to tell his boyfriend.

Type: One Shot

Hospital Flowers by hoshiko2kokoro

A firefighter has done more than just save Arthur's life. He's giving him a whole new perspective on life.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Where The Most Beautiful Roses Grow by fakiagirl

Arthur moves into a quiet American suburb with the intention of starting a new, calmer chapter of his life. It doesn't take long for him to meet Alfred, one of his new neighbors. Little does he know that this is a place where romance can bloom.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

A Distance of 3000 Miles by fakiagirl

5000 kilometers; the distance between their two closest shores. A safe distance, close enough that they can see each other occasionally, but far enough away that neither of them will ever get hurt again. Then, one summer, Alfred visits.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

♡ Starships by PixieDust291

Blind and held prisoner, Arthur finds himself at the mercy of Alfred, a space pirate with a truly curious crew. Alfred is determined to seduce Arthur, and Arthur fears his resolve won't last. His duty is clear, but so is his desire. As the days tick by Arthur begins to question what loyalty means. He begins to realize that being a prisoner may actually set him free.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Look to the Future Now, It's Only Just Begun by Teenage Mouse

Pottertalia. Arthur and Alfred are paired up to read each other's love fortunes in Divination class. Naturally, they're both too obvlious to realise that the signs are pointing to each other.

Type: One Shot

♡ We'll Meet Again by George deValier

WW2 AU. London pub owner Arthur Kirkland is driven to distraction by loud, brash American fighter pilot Alfred Jones. Unable to stop it, Arthur finds himself falling for Alfred's charms... just as the pilot is preparing to leave for war.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Keep Smiling Through by George deValier

'We'll Meet Again' mini-sequel. Keep smiling through, just like you always do; 'til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away! USUK

Type: One Shot

♡ Pointblank by worldaccordingtofangirls

WWII AU: Arthur is a gifted volunteer doctor. Alfred is a bomber pilot. Love strikes us pointblank, right between the eyes, in the most inconvenient of places. The battlefield is no exception.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Man's Best Friends by Inkblooded Witch

Monty doesn't consider himself a needy sort of cat. He and his human have an understanding of how things work, and Monty was under the impression that part of this understanding included a 'No Dogs' rule. So he's not best pleased when his human finds a mate that has one of the beasts.

Mostly pet POV, USUK on the side. Experimental slice-of-life style, be nice! :)

Type: One Shot

Smart Pranks by SillyKwado

Alfred and Arthur were famous throughout the school for not getting along. Even though the two history teachers and had to set an example for the students, they still ended up resorting to petty pranks and arguments. For some reason, the two always found something to argue about or a new way to rile the other up. But perhaps there's a deeper meaning to the pranks and insults…

Type: One Shot

#fanfiction recommendation #Fanfic list #usuk #hetalia #yaoi #hetalia: america #hetalia: united kingdom

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alexeishostakoff · 6 years

Text

the field journal of clint barton, as sent to nick fury [budapest edition]

note: this was originally posted to my ao3 around a year ago, and is largely unedited.

day one in budapest

i’ve scoped out the area. it looks like it’s just the widow, no backup. could be a trap, though.

day two in budapest

you already know this, but her target is thought to be jonathan charrister, american billionaire. i mingled at a party he was at. she didn’t show. i’ve compiled a list of places she might be staying, i’m gonna check them out soon.

day three in budapest

she’s taking her time with this one, having a little fun and toying with him. saw her at the market earlier today, she smirked at the security detail, winked at charrister, blew a kiss, and walked away. i know you want this done fast, but she’s better than i am, and you know it. i need to be careful with this one.

day four in budapest

i think she knows who i am. she ran into me outside of a shop today. she looked me in the eyes, and i swear... she’s terrifying. beautiful, yeah, but cold and filled with the promise of pain. i need to get this done with soon.

day five in budapest

she sleeps handcuffed to the bed. probably started in the red room, and it doesn’t seem like she ever broke the habit. stuck a tranq in her and took her to the safe house. it was almost too easy. and, yeah, i know i was supposed to but a bullet in her brain. and i will, if my gamble doesn’t play off. just trust me this one time, alright?

day one with the widow

she didn’t even seem surprised when she woke up. smirked at me, didn’t speak. this is gonna be fun.

day two with the widow

like i said before, there’s no doubt that she’s beautiful. but there’s something about her... how did they not immediately notice that she would be their deaths? she changed for them, i guess. of course she did. she does that sometimes.

day three with the widow

read through her file again. it’s not hard to understand why she does what she does and how she does it.

day four with the widow

she’s been pretty quiet so far. hasn’t tried to escape, hasn’t said anything. uses various signals to communicate anything she needs. other than that, she just sits there in the corner of the room. watching me. when she’s watching you... it’s something else. you know that she’s studying you, analyzing you, and that she can (and probably will) kill you without even blinking, but you don’t really mind that. because when she’s watching you it’s like she knows all the shitty things you’ve done, all the crimes you’ve committed, and she simultaneously understands and doesn’t give a damn. it’s surprisingly comforting, that sense of analytical understanding. it’s probably part of what makes her so dangerous. she can be anything to anyone, and she’ll use that to hurt you. to me, right now she looks like a woman who’s been brainwashed into a monster. and i know she’ll use it against me, but i’m starting to pity her.

day five with the widow

i’ve started talking to her now. partially to see if she’ll respond, partially to distract myself from the way she’s studying me. neither’s working. food and dogs don’t seem to phase her, and she only looked mildly interested when i mentioned shield. and i can’t talk about shield. she does seem to want to look at my field journal, but i can’t let her see that. can i, though? no? fine. i’ll just let her keep watching me with those eyes. damn that russian spy.

day six with the widow

she spoke today.

fury, she spoke. it was like-i can’t explain it right, but i’ll try. her stare would crack anyone after six days. so i talked, and i didn’t stop. she was mainly ignoring me. “y’know, i don’t think we’re that different.” and then suddenly she wasn’t. it caught me a little off-guard, but i kept talking. “look, i-okay, we’re both assassins. and being an assassin-missions don’t always go right, yeah? so, we probably both have scars.” i swear to god, she completely changed. she had been all curled up before, looking absolutely haughty while she watched me. now? she sat up, her eyes going a little wide, and she looked…vulnerable, really. it was only for a second, but she appeared more human than she has the entire time i’ve known her. then, she spoke. “you aren’t trying to kill me.” it was a statement, but it seemed more like a question. “i’m giving you a chance.” she nodded, and we didn’t speak again.

day seven with the widow

she’s gone back to watching me.

day eight with the widow

she hasn’t spoken again (yet), but i think she likes the french fries from one of the nearby shops. yes, i’m giving her french fries. no, nobody’s come looking.

day nine with the widow

she opened her handcuffs while i was sitting a foot away. i thought i was a dead man, i grabbed my gun and aimed it at her. but no, she just walked up and closed the window, before going back over and putting the cuffs back on. she was completely calm, like i hadn’t pulled a gun on her or anything. i think she’s starting to like me.

day ten with the widow

she’s watching the news channel. should i be worried? is she receiving messages via tv? i don’t know, i’m going to let her watch in peace. yeah, it might get me killed. nah, i’m not worried.

day eleven with the widow

i know you want to know why i haven’t killed her. i’ve gotten all the messages, all the orders. just trust me on this one, fury. please. she’ll join. i just have to get her to talk.

day twelve with the widow

christ, so much happened today. i’ll write it down in the morning, i need to sleep now.

what happened on day twelve with the widow

we played a game. i think she won, though it’s not the kind of game that usually has a winner or a loser. it was a questions game. for every question i’d ask her, she’d get to ask me one. honest answers. couldn’t be about shield intel. we were sitting across from each other at our makeshift dining room table. she wasn’t wearing the handcuffs, but i didn’t mention it. i went first, started off easy. “full name?” “natalia alianovna romanova.” it took her a moment to say it, like she could barely remember. “i think i’ll just call you nat,” i said, and she might’ve smiled. “why haven’t you killed me?” always gets straight to the point, that one. “i think you deserve another chance. why did you let me capture you?” i didn’t see her answer coming. “it was better to die than continue what i was doing.” the game stopped for the day after that, but so did the silence. i’m not sure what changed, but something did.

day one with nat

started off the day with a new question. “are you recruiting me, agent?” she asked, completely neutral as i handed her a bagel. “if i can,” i replied. it took me awhile to come up with a good question. “do you know who i am?” “vaguely. who are you?” “clint barton. what’s your full name?” “it’s my turn, not yours,” i said, and she smiled like she knew something i didn’t. “how many people have you killed?” for a split second, she wasn’t nat anymore, she was the black widow, and i’m fairly certain she wanted to stab me. “too many.” and that was that.

day two with nat

“how long have you been with shield?” “feels like eternity.” “that’s not much of an answer,” she said, as she threw a french fry at my head. (yes, i’m still giving her french fries.) “it’s the only one you’re going to get.” she frowned, and pretty much ignored me until i asked my next question. “who trained you?” “a monster.” “nat, who-“ “a monster.” i could tell that was all she would say, so i gave up. “what’s your full name?” “clinton francis barton.” it was obvious that she wanted to laugh at me. and i know, i really do, that i’m not supposed to give away that much information, but i had to. you know i did.

day three with nat

i think i’ve mainly convinced her that i’m not going to hurt her, though i’m not quite as sure about whether or not she’s going to hurt me. “who ran the red room?” “ivan the strange. who sent you to kill me?” “my boss.” she shook her head a little, but didn’t comment, letting me talk. “what’s your favorite color?” “don’t have one. what’s your preferred weapon?” “bow and arrows, believe it or not.” she arched an eyebrow, looking nothing short of royal, and the game continued. “why haven’t you killed me?” her posture relaxed, and she appeared to be dangerously comfortable with her surroundings. “you amuse me,” she said matter-of-factly, and for a second i understood the fear that came with looking the black widow dead in the eye.

day four with nat

she didn’t ask any questions today, just watched the news, did push-ups, and listened to me talk about my dog.

day five with nat

i went out today. scoped out the area. still seems like nobody’s looking for her. not suspicious at all...

day six with nat

“how far away could you shoot this french fry with an arrow from?” i paused, and thought a moment. “not sure. maybe a residential block.” she nodded. “what about you? with a normal gun, that is.” she shrugged. “around the same.”

day seven with nat

i’ve been told multiple times that i’m good at reading people. by coulson, hill-even by you, fury. i think we can trust natasha romanoff.

day eight with nat

“have you heard of the winter soldier?” “a few times. why?” “pure curiosity. have you met him?” “he’s a ghost story. i haven’t. …have you?” “all of us russian monsters know each other.” i know she knows that i know she knows more about the soldier, more about a lot of things we should know about. i don’t think she’ll tell me, though. at least not yet.

day nine with nat

“do you have a tragic backstory?” the words were almost taunting, but she did sound fairly sincere. “every shield agent does, it seems.” i didn’t exactly dodge the question, but i didn’t answer it entirely, either. there are some things you just don’t talk about. “you called yourself a russian monster. why?” “because that’s what i am, clinton. that’s what i always have been.”

day ten with nat

“are you in love with anyone? anything?” “yeah. i think so. are you?” “i don’t know. i...i can’t remember.”

day eleven with nat

she was unusually quiet today. it’s like she’s preparing for something, steeling herself. hope that doesn’t mean i’m about to get my ass kicked.

day twelve with nat

the silence continued. she looked like she wanted to talk to me a few times, but didn’t. i’m starting to get worried.

day thirteen with nat

good news: she talked again today. it wasn’t anything exciting, just your basic pleasantries. bad news: she doesn’t look any less nervous. which is making me nervous. the tension in this damn safehouse is overwhelming. and i can already tell what maria is going to think when she reads over this, so i’d like to clarify that no, it is not sexual tension. i think.

day fourteen with nat

well. found out why she was nervous. it was her turn in the questions game, remember? she asked me about my tragic backstory. and you know me, fury. i didn’t tell her everything. didn’t tell her how much it hurt, how much it still hurts, how i still can’t hear someone yell without remembering my father, but i told her enough to make her get all quiet. then she apologized for asking and said it wasn’t her place to pry, which made me feel worse, for some reason. you didn’t expect this to turn into my therapy session, now did you?

day fifteen with nat

she treats me differently now. not in a bad way, though. it’s like she respects me more, but also cares more, y’know? i would almost say she trusts me now, but i think it’s gonna take more time for that. i don’t quite trust her yet either, but i really do think we’ll be able to soon enough. and i think i know what my next question is.

day sixteen with nat

we’ve returned to our regular routine. she’s starting to open up more, though. even told a joke or two, which was funny but weird to hear, because black widow telling jokes is not something i ever thought i’d experience. still keeping an eye out for anyone who was sent after her. because there will be someone. an asset as infamous as she is would never just be let go like this. i don’t even try to keep her locked up anymore. but she hasn’t tried to leave yet.

day seventeen with nat

i spotted the russian agents in the market. two of them, both male, late thirties, heavily armed. stuck out so much i’m surprised they weren’t arrested. i’m also surprised they hadn’t sent more, and sooner. i haven’t told her about the agents, but i feel like she knows. wonder if she’d help me or turn against me if they attacked right now. i don’t think anyone could be sure, not even her. taking one more day of recon. i’ll deal with them tomorrow.

day eighteen with nat

three more arrived. brought even more weapons with them. they’ve fortified the place they’re staying at like it’s a damn bunker. given that i have her with me, i’m thinking it’s a bit too dangerous to go in. we’re switching locations asap.

day nineteen with nat

my shoulder hurts like hell, and nat looks like she’ll kill me if i keep writing and upsetting my wound. i’ll tell you what happened tomorrow.

what happened on day nineteen with nat

it was…hectic, to say the least. i went out to make sure our course out was clear, ended up in a firefight with four out of the five agents. i had taken out two of them when the fifth appeared and shit started to hit the fan. got shot in the shoulder. kept going, took another one out, but i was pretty sure i was dead. they had superior weapons, more people, could call for back up, and they had the high ground, a la star wars, and i was the anakin of this equation. then she showed up. it may be hard to believe, but romanoff saved my life. she took out the two remaining agents, carted me back to the safehouse, and patched me up best she could. i don’t know why she did it. but she did.

day twenty with nat

“i know you want to ask why i did it. save your question. i don’t know why. i’m not supposed to know why, or ask why. at least, i’ve never been supposed to before. why is for guitar players and americans, after all.” that last line… i could tell it wasn’t something she had just come with by herself. that was the sort of thing you learned, the sort of thing you had drilled into your head until you couldn’t really remember anything else. i trust her now, tentatively. but i don’t think she quite trusts herself.

day twenty-one with nat

the shoulder wound isn’t as bad as i thought, i’ll be fine soon enough. nothing too exciting happened today, though i have-nevermind. this is a field journal, not a notebook.

day twenty-two with nat

i’m only required to right down what i see, right? and any thoughts pertinent to the mission. wonder how many poor agents have thanked god that the requirements don’t include feelings. the day passed without incident. i think she’s waiting for me to ask my question. it is my turn, after all. i’m not sure if i’m ready to ask it, though. even just hearing about things like that can change you, or just mess you up pretty bad.

day twenty-three with nat

i asked her the same question she asked me. and she told me her tragic backstory. nit all of it, she doesn’t know me well enough for that yet. but-christ. i think she spared me some of the worst bits, not to mention all the gory details. is this why you sent me? is this why you sent the newbie to take out the black widow? cause you knew i’d sympathize with her, maybe even disobey orders and try to help her? cause you knew that she needed that help? i don’t know whether i should thank you or tell you to go to hell, nick.

day twenty-four with nat

she’s been avoiding me like the plague. i think she thinks that telling me what she did would make me believe that she’s a monster like she does, when in reality that’s one of the last things i’d ever think of her. i’m going to talk to her tomorrow.

day twenty-five with nat

we talked. actually, we did more than talk. and y’know what? i’m not gonna tell you what happened. draw your own conclusions, make your own guesses. the truth, well, you could say that it’s…classified. what happened that night is between me and her. nobody else needs to know. not even you, director. i also talked to her about joining us in shield. she said yes. congratulations, sir. you’ve gotten another living legend to join your ranks. the black widow. she’s going to be your best agent one day, i know she is. she’ll surprise you, just you wait. agent natasha romanoff. i like the sound of that. and i think she does, too.

#textpost #eliza writes #clintasha #blackhawk #clint x natasha #clint barton #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #black widow #the winter soldier #maria hill #nick fury #director nick fury #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

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rapuvdayear · 5 years

Video

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2000: “Ghetto Qu’ran (Forgive Me)” 50 Cent (Trackmaster Ent./Columbia)

It’s been over a year since I teased the idea of doing a post about my favorite 50 Cent tracks, so I guess now is as good a time as ever to get around to it!

With the exception of maybe Kanye, I can’t think of another rapper with more raw talent whose career has been more disappointing. Obviously both Ye and Fiddy have been monstrously successful, but IMO they either burned brightly before descending into white supremacy apologia (Kanye) or never achieved their best possible trajectory (50). It’s not an accident to put them together in this way, either; just 12 years ago next month they faced off in what turned out to be a very underwhelming battle over whose album would sell better (this was back when album sales, not streaming numbers, still meant something). In many ways, it was a crossroads for each artist: Kanye dropped what I believe was his magnum opus, then followed it up with his fourth-best album, third-best album, and second-best album, before dropping off a cliff, while 50′s release basically removed him from the conversation about who was relevant in rap (“My Gun Go Off” and “I Get Money” are honorable mentions for the list below, but otherwise Curtis is entirely forgettable).

These days, 50 has gone the Ice Cube route and is probably more recognizable as an actor than as a rapper. So, it’s hard to remember that once upon a time he was the savior of gangsta rap and (co-)author of one of the 25 greatest albums of all time. He beat the odds to survive a shooting, link up with the two heaviest hitters (at the time) in the rap game, and even be included on some GOAT lists. He also essentially established the “flood the streets with mixtapes before your album drops” strategy of self-promotion that Gucci, Weezy, and even Drake would follow in the days before Soundcloud was the go-to resource for building a rep. He singlehandedly destroyed a rival’s career, launched a clothing line, video game, and music label, and made a halfway-decent biopic. And then... he just sort of petered out.

But! 50 is also responsible for some of my all-time favorite raps, which is why it’s so frustrating to me that he never lived up to the buzz surrounding him back in 2003. These are my five favorites, listed chronologically, with some commentary:

1) “Ghetto Qu’ran (Forgive Me)” (2000) Before the G-Unit days and before Eminem and Dre helped launch him to superstardom, Curtis Jackson was an up and coming rapper from Queens who had attracted the attention of another rap legend, Run-DMC’s Jam Master Jay. A mutual friend introduced 19 year-old 50 to Jay back in 1996, and the veteran producer/DJ gave him a crash course in how to write songs and signed him to his fledgling label. The business relationship didn’t work out, but it helped lead 50 to Columbia Records’ Trackmasters imprint where he recorded Power of the Dollar in 1999. However, this debut album would never see the light of day after 50 was shot nine times while sitting in a friend’s car and subsequently dropped by Columbia. In the wake of the shooting--and then later, after 50 blew the fuck up in 2003--it became a sort of “lost cult classic” among rap fans. “How To Rob” got the most attention at the time, a funny-yet-vicious song demonstrating 50′s hunger through fantasies about sticking up famous rappers and R&B stars (the song was also clearly an homage to Biggie’s unreleased “Dreams,” and provoked an oblique diss from Ghostface). But “Ghetto Qu’ran” has had a more lasting impact, primarily because of how it was rumored to be the source of 50′s shooting, Jam Master Jay’s murder, and the Ja Rule/Murder Inc. beef. While all of that intrigue is important to rap lore, it distracts from the fact that it’s a near perfect rap song from a technical perspective: a catchy hook, a fantastic beat and sample, an effortless flow, and a well-crafted story that is equal parts celebration of the Queens underworld and subtle shots at street legends. Seriously, this is akin to what traveling bards used to do in medieval Europe, what poets in Ancient Greece wrote, what west African griots did/do, and what narcocorrido artists do now. If you want to learn about the Supreme Team, Pappy Mason, the Corley Family, and the Rich Porter/Alpo crew in Harlem, then this is a good place to start; as 50 puts it, “consider this the first chapter of the ghetto’s Qu’ran.” The secondary title to this track--“Forgive Me”--has a double meaning now. It was initially a plea to forgive 50 for the pain he caused in his criminal life but in retrospect an appeal to the figures whose names he drops. Also, it’s interesting to listen to this first and then compare 50′s voice with the next four tracks: this was recorded before the shooting, which left a bullet fragment lodged in his tongue that affected his speech and gave him his now-distinctive flow.

2) “Heat” (2003) There are several standouts on Get Rich or Die Tryin’ (“Many Men,” “Back Down,” “What Up Gangsta,” “Patiently Waiting,” and “Poor Lil’ Rich” spring to mind, and I will always love “21 Questions” for the “I love you like a fat kid loves cake” line alone) but this one has always been my fave. It’s a perfect distillation of the image that 50 was trying to project when he burst onto the scene: a hood-hardened gangster who wouldn’t hesitate to do his enemies harm. And given his recent history, you could believe him, too! There’s really nothing about this song that should be praised in any way, but I’ve been thinking about the gravity of the following line a lot in the past month or so: “The summertime is a killing season/ It’s hot out this bitch, that’s a good enough reason.” Also, 50′s boast “the DA can play this motherfucking tape in court” *has* to be one of the inspirations behind this great Key & Peele sketch, right?

3) “A Baltimore Love Thing” (2005) The Massacre was incredibly disappointing on the whole. I can remember clearly sitting around with my friends in a dorm room at the Shoreland listening to it all the way through the day that it dropped, wanting to love it but slowly realizing that it wasn’t going to live up to our expectations. “Ski Mask Way” could be an honorable mention on this list, and “Piggy Bank” is kind of funny, but otherwise it’s a steaming pile of shit. “Baltimore Love Thing,” though, is a masterpiece. It’s incredibly dark, rapped from the perspective of heroin itself (sort of like what Nas’s “I Gave You Power” does for guns) in order to detail the destruction that addiction--and, by extension, drug trafficking--leaves in its wake. Even more fucked up, 50-as-heroin voices an abusive partner addressing a woman, threatening her should she ever try to leave him. For my money, “You broke my heart, you dirty bitch, I won’t forget what you did/ If you give birth, I’ll already be in love with your kids” is one of the coldest lines in the annals of rap, full stop. In the second verse, he switches to the flip side of an abuser’s mindset: “I never steer you wrong, if you hyper I make you calm/ I’ll be your incentive, your reason for you to move forward.” All in all, it’s a great concept song that shows off 50′s range as a rapper... and is a testament to what he could have been.

4) “Hustler’s Ambition” (2005) Goddamn, I fucking love everything about this song! The beat is fantastic (great sample, btw), prefiguring the sound on a future great mixtape from the G-Unit crew. 50′s flow here is flawless, arguably the best, smoothest he’s ever been. This was basically the “theme” for 2005′s Get Rich or Die Tryin’ film, and tells the story of his come up in the drug game (or, at least, 50′s version of his carefully constructed hagiography). The lyrics are the true gems here, so I��ll just let a few of the standouts speak for themselves:

“Check my logic: fiends don’t like seeds in they weed, shit/ Send me them seeds, I’ll grow ‘em what they need”

“I sell anything, I’m a hustler, I know how to grind/ Step on grapes, put it in water, and tell you it’s wine”

“I made plans to make it, a prisoner of the state/ Now I can invite your ass out to my estate”

“Pour Cristal in the blender, make a protein shake”

and finally

“The feds watch me, icy, they can’t stop me/ Racists pointing at me, ‘Look at *****race’: Hello!”

5) “Ghetto Like A Motherfucker” (2011) I remember first encountering this track on a Tumblr compilation (I think?) called Don’t Fuck This Up, Curtis! and allowing myself to get excited that the old 50 was back! As the compilation’s name implies, around that time 50 had been releasing a string of online-only singles that were better than anything he’d put out in five or so years, and so there was some hope that he’d soon be making a triumphant return to the rap game. Sadly, this was not to be. But I still bang this track every month or so. The idea here was that 50 had written something, set it to a very sparse, stripped-down beat, and posted it online as an invitation for DIY rap producers to play with it and layer their own compositions on top of it. In that sense, it represented a melange of rap’s earliest roots--dudes spitting over vinyl cuts in basements and parks, just fucking around and having fun--and the possibilities afforded by the digital age and rap’s embrace of online platforms for mixing and remixing material (on a side note, I like to think of this as part of 21st century rap’s “punk rock” aesthetic, and would argue that this genre has done it better than any other). As with “Hustler’s Ambition,” “Baltimore Love Thing,” and “Ghetto Qu’ran,” this track gives 50 a chance to really showcase his talents as a writer and a rapper. The lyrics are as grimy as the beat, painting a picture of urban poverty and pre-fame 50, and 50 switches up his flow at multiple points throughout. Here are some of my favorite lines:

“Slim chance I’ma go back to killing roaches/ Be quiet, you can hear the rats in the wall/ Make you wanna pump crack ‘til you stack racks”

“Dice game, shake ‘em up, praying’ for a 6/ The wolves out there hungry, they lookin’ for a lick”

“****** pissed on the staircase, in the elevator/ Now I’m pissed cuz I’m starting to smell like piss, player”

and

“All a ***** need is a block and a connect/ And a box of 9 MMs to load in the TEC.”

50′s last two studio albums--Before I Self Destruct and Animal Ambition--honestly weren’t half-bad; I would venture so far as to say that they were both better than The Massacre and Curtis. But for 50 it was too little, too late, really. Too many rappers had come along since then doing what he did, only better and fresher. This is a Migos world now; we’re just living in it. And so, I’m left to ponder what could have been.

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crescentmoon223 · 5 years

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Two Worlds Collide Chapter 10

Read it on AO3 | Rated: NC-17 | Stella x Scully

Chapter 10

Stella lurched upright in bed, heart racing, ribs screaming in protest of the sudden movement. She sat there for a moment, sucking in air, waiting for the images behind her eyelids to fade. They would fade. They always did. It was the same dream she’d been having for weeks now, the one where she was walking through the woods outside Belfast, looking for Rose. Walking and looking. Walking and looking…

She could hear Rose calling her name, screaming for help, but she couldn’t find her. She could never find her, never got to her in time. When she finally found the car and popped open the boot, Rose would be laying inside, naked with a rope around her neck. Dead. It was always the same.

Except tonight. Tonight, when she’d opened the boot, it had been Scully laying there with a rope around her neck, eyes glazed with death. Stella shuddered, controlling her breathing so she didn’t wake the real, live Scully beside her, the one who’d worked a very long day and needed to sleep, no matter how badly Stella needed to hold her right now, to assure herself it had just been a dream.

Instead, she reached for the bag she’d left beside the bed. She pulled out her journal—the new one, the one Paul Spector had never touched, the one no one but Stella would ever touch. Sitting in Scully’s darkened bedroom, she jotted down the dream, finding comfort in the ritual, before she lay back down. She snuggled just a bit closer to Scully, close enough to hear the gentle puff of her breath and feel the warmth of her body.

And then, with her nightmare safely tucked away inside the journal beside the bed, she slept. The next time she woke, Scully was puttering quietly around the bedroom, pulling on blue scrubs, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail.

“Back to work already?” Stella asked, her voice deep and rusty with sleep.

“Yes. Sorry.” Scully leaned over to kiss her.

Stella gripped her elbows and pulled her down on top of her so she could kiss her properly. “Don’t be sorry.” She wished desperately to be in Scully’s position, tiptoeing off to work at the break of dawn, the prospect of a long and satisfying day ahead of her.

“Maybe we can see each other again tonight?” Scully asked, propping herself up on her elbows to meet Stella’s eyes.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She disentangled herself from Stella with a smile and headed down the stairs.

Stella stood, putting on her clothes. She followed Scully downstairs, where they shared a rushed cup of coffee together before setting out. Scully headed for the tube station to ride to work, and Stella set off toward her flat, deciding a walk would do her good this morning. Thirty minutes later, she walked through her front door.

And then she suppressed the urge to scream. She was so fucking tired of her own company, tired of looking at case files she already knew by heart as she waited for the phone to ring. Scully had been a welcome distraction, but now that she’d started her fellowship, there was nothing left for Stella to do but wait.

She went upstairs and took a long, hot bath, adding a few drops of lavender oil to the water, hoping it would relax her. It didn’t. She dressed and walked downstairs, mentally compiling a list of errands she could run to pass the time. Maybe she’d even buy groceries and cook dinner for Scully again tonight.

There was a new voicemail on her phone, and the number sent a burst of adrenaline through her system. It was a Met number, a call from work. She pressed the phone to her ear, listening as Chief Superintendent Chris George asked her to be in his office at 1400 today. The inquiry had been resolved, he said. She could resume active duty immediately.

“Welcome back, Stella,” he concluded before ending the call.

“Thank you,” she whispered to no one in particular. She marched back upstairs to polish her hair and makeup, making sure no trace of the bruises was visible on her face.

Never let them see your weakness.

Then she gathered the case files she’d been reviewing, stuffed them into her briefcase, and headed for the office. Her arrival was quiet. She kept her head down, crossing the station floor with as little fanfare as possible.

“Welcome back, ma’am,” one of the officers called to her.

She lifted her hand in greeting, not pausing until she’d reached her desk, unnaturally clean after her long absence. She sat behind it, running her hands over its smooth surface as a heady sense of power flowed through her veins. She was back. Belfast was officially, finally behind her. Thank God.

Exhaling deeply, she reached for her briefcase, pulling out the case files she’d spent so many hours pouring over at home, checklists forming in her mind of the actionable tasks to be taken now that she was back. She’d need to schedule meetings with the SIO’s in charge of each case to go over her findings and recommendations.

“Stella.”

She looked up to see DSI Stephen Chen leaning against the doorway to her office, coffee cup in hand and a warm smile creasing his handsome face. Something loosened inside her chest, the unexpected relief of seeing a familiar—and friendly—face. “Stephen.”

“It’s good to have you back,” he said.

“It’s good to be back.” She tapped the file beneath her fingers, feeling more like herself than she had in weeks. “I was actually just about to call you.”

“Yeah?” He stepped into her office and settled himself in the guest chair in front of her desk.

She nodded. “I reviewed the Beaujon case last week while I was at home.”

“Please tell me you found something I missed,” he said. “Because I really want to nail this motherfucker, but I’m starting to feel like I’m chasing my own tail here.”

Her lips quirked. This was one of the reasons she’d always liked Chen. He wasn’t afraid to ask for help, although he was a brilliant detective in his own right. He’d been her protégé when he first joined the Met. She’d taught him, trained him, and now he’d been promoted beside her. Back in the day, he’d helped her put Alissa Pine’s stepfather behind bars. “Nothing you missed, per se, but I do have a suggestion for a new line of inquiry.”

They spent the next thirty minutes going over her suggestions for his case, and when he left her office, she felt good about the progress they’d made. From there, her day flowed relatively smoothly. She met with the other officers whose cases she’d reviewed and observed an interview with a newly discovered witness. Her meeting with her boss went uneventfully, a brief summary of all the ways she’d fucked up in Belfast, a promise not to repeat past mistakes, and a firm handshake as she was officially welcomed back.

Before she’d even realized the time, Scully had texted to say she was leaving the hospital.

I’m actually at the office myself, Stella replied.

Good news? Scully asked.

Yes. Inquiry closed. Officially back in action.

Congratulations! Mind if I stop by?

Stella felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. No.

She started sorting through the files on her desk, updating her notes and organizing things for tomorrow, pleased with the progress she’d made today. A few minutes later, she heard a laugh that made something warm zing through her stomach. She looked up to see Scully at the reception desk, red hair loose over her shoulders, laughing at something Anwar had just said to her.

Stella waved a hand to catch her attention, and Scully met her eyes with a smile. She said something to Anwar, waving as she strode in Stella’s direction. She arrived in Stella’s doorway, still smiling, one hip leaned against the door frame, looking worlds fresher than she had at the end of yesterday’s shift.

“The hospital’s not far from here, and I wanted the chance to see you in action,” she said.

“Satisfied?” Stella felt a smile tug at her lips. She leaned her elbows on her desk, watching Scully closely. She was impatient to kiss her but unwilling to do so here at work, especially unwilling to give her colleagues anything to whisper about on her first day back.

“Yes,” Scully answered, wandering into Stella’s office, eyes roaming over everything in sight.

“Do you miss it?” Stella asked.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But not enough to consider ever coming back.”

“Pathology is your happy medium then, is it?”

“Yeah. I think it is.”

“And how was your second day?”

“Better than the first,” Scully said with a brisk nod. “I’m finding my footing.”

“Good.” Stella stood, shutting down her laptop and grabbing her bag. “Ready?”

Scully nodded, leading the way toward the exit. Several heads turned as they walked past, and Stella wondered what they thought. Friends? Colleagues? She doubted anyone guessed they were lovers, but with her reputation, who knew? Then again, Stella didn’t make a habit of parading her lovers through the office.

“Cut up any bodies today?” she asked as they pushed through the front door onto the street beyond.

“Just one,” Scully told her, wrapping those fingers that had so recently diagnosed death around Stella’s, transferring warmth from one to the other. “Want to grab something to eat? And then, my place or yours? Your choice.”

“Mine,” Stella said automatically, needing the comfort of her own things to keep the positive momentum of the day going.

So, she and Scully stopped at a nearby pub for dinner before heading to Stella’s flat for the night. She’d assumed they wouldn’t see each other as often now that they were both back at work, had assumed that was what she wanted to happen. But as Scully pressed her against the bed, hands roaming beneath Stella’s clothes, she found herself hoping they managed to make this thing between them last for the duration of Scully’s fellowship after all.

***

Over the next two weeks, Stella and Scully solidified their new routines. They were both working long hours now, both comfortably exhausted by the time they made it home in the evening. Often, they’d wind up together either at Scully’s flat or Stella’s in the evening, sharing food and conversation and seemingly endless sex. It had been a very long time since Stella had been part of a relationship like this, the kind of relationship where she found herself checking her phone more often than she should in the office just to see if Scully had texted, where someone cared where she went after work.

This was the kind of relationship that demanded more than she was usually willing to give. She hadn’t meant for it to happen, but she wasn’t exactly complaining either. With Scully, she found she was willing to bend in places she usually held rigid. Stella enjoyed being with her, genuinely looked forward to seeing her. She was as smart as she was beautiful, and every bit as dedicated to her career as Stella was. And the sex…

Still, she held a part of herself back, unwilling to give herself over completely to anyone, even Scully. There were nights when she needed to be alone, and there were places where she’d never bend.

And then there was the date looming on the calendar. Stella hadn’t given much thought to her birthday. Generally, she considered it a win if she managed to sneak past it without having to acknowledge the date. Her coworkers knew better than to say anything. Probably, she’d work late that night. It was her birthday, and she could celebrate any way she liked, even if that meant not celebrating at all.

So, why did she feel like she was keeping some kind of dirty secret every time she looked at the calendar and didn’t say anything to Scully? It was just a day. It would pass, like any other day, and Stella would be another year older. Big fucking deal.

Her office phone rang, illuminating Chris George’s extension. She lifted the receiver to her ear. “Sir?”

“Do you have a minute?” her boss asked.

“Of course,” she responded, already closing her laptop. “I’ll be right there.” She put down the phone, picked up her notepad, and crossed the station floor to George’s door, which stood ajar. She rapped her knuckles against it, pausing there.

“Stella, come in.” He gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, sir.” She sat, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded over the notepad in her lap. Surely, he hadn’t called her in to assess her performance. Since her return, she’d helped close two of her colleagues’ open cases and just this Monday had been made SIO on a new homicide. It wasn’t like George to micromanage her, and she hoped he wasn’t about to start now.

“Good, good,” he said, leaning back in his chair and giving her an assessing look. “I have a bit of a favor to ask on behalf of the chief super up in Wembley.”

“Of course.” She relaxed internally as she realized this meeting had nothing to do with what had happened in Belfast.

“They’ve got themselves a problematic case, a rape, as it happens. The primary suspect is a former officer, and there are concerns that things have been mismanaged in his favor.” George sighed, still watching her closely.

Stella straightened in her seat. She was being sent on another review. It was unusual for her to be sent out again so quickly. Usually, she only assisted other jurisdictions a few times a year. It was a welcome chance for her to flex her mental muscles, get more experience under her belt, and untangle a complicated case. She’d never gone out only two weeks after returning to her home office, certainly not after a case as mentally and physically destructive as the one in Belfast had been.

“I know it’s a lot to ask so soon after your return,” he said. “But they requested you specifically. It will be only a week. I’m certain Stephen can cover the Martin case for you until your return after you just helped him close Beaujon.”

“Yes, of course,” she answered automatically. This review had not been presented to her as optional, not that she would have ever considered saying no. Ultimately, it was good that she was still in demand, even after Belfast. So, she tucked away a sense of discomfort she couldn’t quite explain as she made her way back to her office to begin clearing her calendar for next week.

A text from Scully waited on her phone.

Dinner tonight? I’m craving pizza.

Sounds good, Stella replied. She opened her laptop, eyes scanning appointments and meetings that would need to be canceled. Her birthday was next Wednesday, right in the middle of her weeklong trip to Wembley. Well, at least now she had a legitimate excuse not to spend it with Scully.

***

“Oh my God, this is so good,” Scully said around a mouthful of pizza.

“Mm,” Stella agreed, reaching for another slice. Somehow, her white blouse remained unblemished, while Scully could already see three separate dots of sauce on the front of her scrubs.

She’d picked up a pie from their favorite Italian spot on her way home from the hospital, loaded with the works, and between the two of them, they might polish the whole thing off. Nothing beat a long day of fighting crime—or slicing up bodies—to work up an appetite. Stella ate quietly, her expression a million miles away. This in itself wasn’t unusual. She often got lost in her own thoughts, but tonight, she seemed more distracted than usual.

“Tough day?” Scully asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Stella said. She chewed and swallowed another bite before glancing over at Scully. “I’m being sent on another review.”

“Oh?”

Stella nodded. “Next week.”

“That seems…soon,” Scully said carefully. Stella hadn’t even finished healing from the case in Belfast, was only barely back into the swing of things here in London.

“It is,” Stella agreed, lifting a string of cheese and draping it across her pizza slice. “It’s in Wembley, so not too far from home. Far enough to warrant a hotel stay, though, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll miss you,” Scully blurted, covering her admission with a smile as Stella gave her a sharp look. It was true, though. Her time in London was already beginning to feel short, and she’d hoped to spend every bit of it with Stella.

“It’s only for a week.”

“Okay,” Scully said, taking another bite of pizza. They fell back to eating in silence, and Scully found herself remembering the headlines from Belfast, the ones about Stella and that officer, James Olson. She choked on a bite of pizza, coughing as she reached for her water glass.

“Are you all right?” Stella asked, eyes narrowed as if she was asking about more than Scully’s airway.

“Fine,” she muttered, taking a long drink of water. She was the one who’d suggested a casual relationship. Technically, Stella could fuck anyone she wanted to while she was away on her review, or even here in London. But that didn’t feel okay, not anymore. Maybe it never had. Scully was loyal to her core, and maybe she had no right to ask for it in return, but she didn’t want to share Stella with anyone else, not for the two short months she would be here in London. She fidgeted with her slice of pizza, watching as the toppings slid one by one back into the box in a gloppy mess.

“Dana,” Stella said, a warning in her tone.

Scully looked at her helplessly. She was so bad at this. She had no idea how to broach the subject and was uncomfortably aware Stella might bristle or even bolt once she realized was Scully was asking. But she’d spent too many years not speaking up for what she wanted in a relationship and then being disappointed when she didn’t receive it. Not this time. “I just…I don’t really know how to say this, but…it’s just you and me, right? Even when you’re away?”

Stella froze with the pizza halfway to her mouth, and for a moment, they stared at each other in loaded silence. A glob of sauce dripped onto Stella’s skirt, and for some reason, Scully had the irrational urge to laugh. Instead, she pushed a paper towel into Stella’s free hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“The skirt is black,” Stella said as she dabbed at the sauce. “Hard to stain.”

“That’s not what I was sorry for.”

Stella’s chin went up, and Scully’s stomach bottomed out. She’d overstepped. Friends who fuck. Her ridiculous label for their relationship certainly hadn’t implied any kind of exclusivity.

Stella sat ramrod straight across from her as a war raged in the turbulent depths of her eyes. And then, she nodded slightly. “Just you and me, for however long this lasts.”

“Really?” Scully couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

A muscle in Stella’s jaw twitched. “I am capable of restraint when it’s asked of me.”

Scully set down what remained of her pizza and took Stella’s half-eaten slice, tossing it carelessly into the open box before pushing her flat on the couch, covering Stella’s body with her own. She brought her lips to Stella’s for a bruising kiss. “Exclusivity, yes, but I never asked you for restraint.”

#fanfic #Two Worlds Collide #stella and scully #Stella x Scully

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romanticatheart-posts · 6 years

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King Sized Revelations - Part 8

Pairings: Liam x MC (Catherine) Rating: NSFW (Only the mention of, nothing explicit)

This chapter: After reading his mother’s letter to Catherine and finally finding peace over her death, can he also deal with his father’s past deception?

Master List

Pixelberry owns all characters, except for the ones I created for this story.

Tags: @umccall71 @3pawandme @indiacater @katurrade @lodberg @heatherfilliez @eadanga @missevabean @furiousherringoperatortoad @flowerpowell @cheeseedreams47 @tornbetween2loves @smalltalk88 @hopefulmoonobject @stopforamoment @blznbaby @ao719 @cocomaxley @perfectprofessorherokid @femmeshep @sarwin85 @wannabemc2 @gardeningourmet @krsnlove @mrsdrakewalkerblog @annekebbphotography

After coming home from Switzerland a few weeks ago, it’s back to business as usual…

It’s a little after six a.m. at the palace and you are already hard at work in your role as the Queen of Cordonia.

You awoke before Liam, which almost never happens… but, you have a lot on your plate today and decided that with the quietness of the palace at this hour, you’d be able to focus without distractions. You showered and dressed, then tip-toed to the bed where he lay peacefully sleeping. You bent down and gently kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “I love you, Liam…” then quietly walked out the door, leaving him sleeping like a baby.

After reaching your office you walk over to the desk and sit, taking the stack of papers neatly clasped together by a single paper clip. This is your project… your contribution to the people of Cordonia… It is a proposal compiled from your ideas. From hospital equipment to recruiting a higher level of providers, there was no stone unturned.

Liam had approached you with the idea several months ago after he learned that Cordonia was on a top ten list for the country with the worst healthcare system. You’ve spent hours researching and gathering data in order to effectively support your vision… and not to mention getting help from your friends.

Maxwell had set up an online blog asking people what they wanted most from their healthcare experience, providing tons of information from the recipients of such services.

Hana put her etiquette to good use by visiting various hospitals and offices to get input from the providers as well as the workforce. Also equally informative.

Drake even brought a few books from the library which outlined various equipment and it’s uses which provided invaluable information for what you would be proposing.

Liam was very encouraging and offered the legal assistance necessary to endorse your strategy… He was your sounding board and after hearing the plans, he was quite confident that you could make a difference in Cordonia’s standing… ‘A seamless task for someone with such a kind and generous spirit… and the opportunity to improve the lives of our citizens while supporting your passion for helping others... Not to mention your unique gift of motivating those around you.’ He never misses an opportunity to praise and encourage you, which makes this even more important that it be a success.

As you scan through the text, the word ‘new cycles’ sparks a memory of your childhood. One that should have been a happy time in your life…

“Okay princess, time to make a wish!” You close your eyes, take in a deep breath, and then blow out all seven lit candles atop the birthday cake your foster mother Eileen made. All your friends cheer, and you smile wide as clicks of the cameras echo and flashes of light flicker all around you, creating permanent images to mark this special occasion. You’d never had a birthday party before and it was exciting to have a celebration where you were the reason for the gathering. The sisters at the children’s home always had cake for birthdays, but there were never gifts…

You are brought back to the present by familiar sounds out in the hallway… the palace was beginning to come to life just like clockwork. You shake off the anxiety and pick up the last two pages of the proposal, reading through until the last sentence. You smile, content that your ideas were interpreted right.

“Yes! This is perfect… even if I do say so myself.” Feeling happy, you lift your feet off the ground and swing the chair around several times before it comes to a complete stop with you facing the wall. After a few moments of silent contemplation… you hear a familiar chuckle from behind you. “Not nearly as perfect as you my love.” You quickly turn and see Liam in the doorway and you smile back at him. “I didn’t hear you come in.” “Clearly...” He walks over, and you stand up facing him. He places his arms around your waist and yours reach around his neck. He leans in and kisses you gently. “Good morning my queen.” “It is now, my king...” He smiles. “You’re up early…”

Liam pulls you closer and rubs your back while looking at you intently. “… and I was rather disappointed when I awoke to an empty bed… I missed having you next to me.” “I know… I missed that too, but I was thinking about my presentation this afternoon, and I couldn’t go back to sleep. You were so peaceful, and I didn’t want to wake you.” He kisses your nose and then rests his forehead against yours. “You used to wake up thinking about me…” “I still do, and I did… but, this is my first real project and I just want it to be perfect.” He smiles sweetly as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I have no doubts that it will be, and I do appreciate your enthusiasm, but… I’ve become quite fond of waking up with you beside me… and holding you.”

You think for a moment and then smile playfully at him. “And you also seem to be quite fond of stealing the blankets too… I have to snuggle against you just to keep warm sometimes.” He laughs as if proud of himself. “Even in my sleep I find ways to draw you closer to me.” “You don’t need to steal the covers for that…” You smile at each other, and in the next moment his lips find yours in a tender, passionate kiss, as his hands wander over your body, igniting a fire within. “Mmmm…” You pull back slowly and look at him, your fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt. “I’m free until this afternoon... If you have the time, maybe I can find a way to make up for neglecting my king this morning… it may take a while though.” He smiles and when he speaks, his voice is low and raspy. “Oh, I’ll make sure of it, my queen...” He kisses you fervently, sucking gently on your bottom lip and then trails more kisses down your neck and to your chest. “… but I’d prefer… a more… private… setting…” With the warmth of his lips between your breasts, you breathlessly reply... “And comfortable.”

Without saying another word, he takes your hand leading you quickly to the royal chambers. As soon as the door closes behind you his lips find yours in a searing kiss and begins loosening the fastenings of your clothes…

Later… you both lay contentedly atop the covers on the bed. Liam leans over and kisses your cheek. “Each time we’re together, it only gets better and better.” You smile in agreement. “I think so too… you really did miss me, didn’t you?” Liam chuckles. “I couldn’t hide it, even if I wanted to.” You smile. “I wouldn’t let you miss me for too long.” “That’s good to know…” You lay together a few more minutes in silence and Liam reluctantly sighs.

“As much as I would love to spend the day in bed with you my love, I suppose we should make an appearance at the breakfast table.” “Yeah, I guess you’re right. And I’m kind of hungry anyway.” “Me too…”

After breakfast Liam heads out to the awaiting motorcade for an impromptu meeting in the city. You stay behind and head back to your office. Soon after settling in, there is a knock on your door. “Come in.” It’s Mara with a message from the King Father. “He asked for your presence in his study, Your Majesty.” You look puzzled. “Did he say why?” “I’m not sure, but he ushered everyone out of the room. Including the Queen Mother.” Mara bows her head to hide a smile and you can’t help but laugh a little just picturing it. “Well, I’d better go see what he wants. If he kicked Regina out, I’m sure it’s not in my favor…”

Mara escorts you to the study and you walk in. Mara comes in behind you. “You wanted to see me?” He sees Mara. “Yes, please. Have a seat. Mara, if you’ll excuse us for a moment…” “Of course, Your Majesty.” Mara bows and backs out of the room. Once the door closes, Constantine clears his throat. “I’m sorry for appearing enigmatic, but I have a private matter to discuss with you.” You sense the hesitation in his voice. “Did I do something?” He smiles apologetically. “No, no. It’s nothing like that… It’s a bit embarrassing to be quite honest…” There is a long silence. “Well, I’m here now. So what is it exactly?”

He seems reluctant to speak, but then he sighs. “Catherine, I need your help. It’s quite obvious that Liam and I have grown apart since… since the scandal. And before I leave this world, I desperately want to bridge that distance between us.”

“That’s wonderful Constantine, but how can I help?” He contemplates his response. “I know that Liam listens to you, and I was thinking maybe a father, son outing of sorts.” “What did you have in mind?”

“That’s precisely the reason I need your help. I know his free moments are spent with you… not that it’s a bad thing mind you, but I don’t see him taking any time away from that... especially not for me.” You think for a moment and an idea comes to mind. “Liam loves the Applewood Manor. He’s talked a lot about how relaxed it is there. And maybe we could go for a couple of days on the ruse of showing him the progress of the orchard. I hear there has been a lot of change since the last time we visited.” “Hmm… it’s not a bad idea actually… maybe he and I could take the horses out one afternoon… that would do nicely.”

Constantine smiles appreciatively. “Thank you, Catherine. I knew I was right to ask you for assistance.” “You don’t have to thank me. We’re family, remember?” “Yes, yes we are… and if we could keep this conversation confidential…?” “Of course, but how are you going to explain it to Regina?” He smiles confidently. “You let me worry about that…”

After a long week, it’s time to make the journey to Applewood Manor. Liam was more than happy to visit and see firsthand, the changes to the orchard after it was burned almost a year ago… and talk with the farmers regarding any concerns. Always the good king…

The next day, you enlist Regina’s help with some decorations for the upcoming Apple Festival. Liam was a bit disappointed that he couldn’t spend the afternoon with you, but he was understanding as usual and you promised it would only be a few hours.

Constantine is waiting in the sitting room, where he has summoned Liam. “You wanted to see me father?” Constantine motions for Liam to sit. “Yes. I have it on good authority that the ruins were vandalized recently, and I thought you and I could ride out there and see if there’s any real damage.” “I hadn’t heard of any vandalism… what kind are we talking about?”

“Well, they found that a few young boys had set up camp right in the middle… hoping to conjure spirits and such. It was harmless, but I’d like to see it nonetheless.” “Alright, I’ll have staff prepare the horses. I’m rather interested to see it myself.”

Liam’s POV --

Once the horses are ready, you walk with your father down to the stables. Since he gave up his wheelchair a few weeks ago, you are surprised at how well he is able to get around. “It’s good to see you walking again.” “I’m a little slower, but I’d say it’s coming along…”

You help Constantine up into the saddle and then mount your own horse. While riding the trail you can’t help but think how regal Constantine looks sitting on his horse… It reminds you of the confident king he once was and a time when you admired him and tried to imitate his character… It’s sad to think of what he became in the last year of his reign, but it angers you at the same time.

Most of the ride is spent chatting about mundane topics and issues, but before you reach the ruins Constantine stops his horse and looks out into the clearing. Thinking something is wrong, you start to dismount your horse and your father holds up his hand. “Don’t get down just yet. It’s still a few paces before it’s necessary.” “Then why did you stop?” Constantine looks over and you see tears in his eyes. “Father?” He doesn’t try to hide them, and then begins to speak. “Liam, I know I’ve been a fool…”

He pauses, letting those words permeate before continuing. “…everything I did, it was for you, however misguided it was…” “Father, now is not the time--” Constantine interrupts. “No. This is the perfect time. We have been at odds far too long and I’m not ready to die until you and I can clear the air…”

#theroyalromance #choicescommunity #playchoices #kingliam #liam x mc

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beatricethecat2 · 6 years

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if/then (2.0) - 15 v.2

PSA time: Criticism can be a positive force, especially when it’s constructive, and even more so when it’s given by someone you trust and respect. (Don't be afraid of it!) “But it’s just fan fiction,” the mantra goes, meaning fics don't warrant scrutiny, like "real" writing does. But “It’s just fan fiction,” to me, means I have the ability to go back and reassess, to learn from my mistakes, especially when given sound advice to guide me. I’m writing to learn, as I’m not a writer by trade, so there is no shame in tearing something apart and starting over again. Chapter 15 warranted a serious makeover, so I dove in...the gist is the same but the information imparted differently. I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of "show not tell,” so I’ve gone back and applied that liberally. And here we are, back at Chapter 15, with a (hopefully) more satisfying result. Plus, in the meantime, I’ve plotted out a much better ending (for the story), so it's a win/win situation all around. Edited 6/5.

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14

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Myka checks her phone and looks toward the door again; no new news, but Helena really should be here by now. The VIP preview started at five, and her public opening at six, but now it's near seven, and Helena’s still missing in action. A mix up with her ticket left her stranded until late afternoon, but after some strong words with the manager, she transferred to another airline. She texted over an hour ago that she'd "be there soon," but Myka's beginning to worry she's run into further trouble.

It's almost laughable, her fretting over Helena’s absence, as she was adamant for weeks Helena not join her. But at the last minute, she changed her mind, unnerved about stepping into uncharted territory alone. Helena convinced her she needed a buffer and that she was the best candidate for the job.

After their initial conversation, Helena called like clockwork every day, but at first, Myka didn't pick up. Ignoring Helena entirely seemed the only way to focus, but her heartfelt messages kept creeping into her head. If she was ever going to move past this, they needed to talk, and sooner rather than later was better than waiting.

Their first few conversations were bitter affairs, little more than Helena listening while Myka listed her “wrongs.” Myka vented a laundry list of frustrations, beginning with Germany and tumbling back through their relationship. But over time, her hostility weakened, allowing Helena to steer their focus towards Myka’s show.

“What do you want,” Myka grumbled, tapping "accept" after three full rings.

“To ask how you're faring today,” Helena replied.

“Stressed out. Super busy. Same as yesterday, and the day before.”

“You have been rather agitated lately.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Myka snapped. It had become a habit to push Helena’s buttons whenever possible, but this schtick was getting old, her heart wasn’t in it as it was a few days ago.

“Were you able to ask for more time off work?”

“Yeah,” Myka answered, a little disappointed Helena didn’t offer her usual apologies. "Leena’s sending stuff I can work on at home, so I only have to go in once or twice a week.”

“Excellent. That relieves much of your burden.”

“True, but there’s still so much to do.”

“Talk me through it. Perhaps I can assist.”

Myka looked across her room at the collection of objects on her desk, the ones she and Abigail rescued from Helena’s apartment. She hadn't told Helena what had happened there yet as she wanted to process her experiences there before inserting Helena's influence. But considering the subject matter, that was kind of counterproductive as she wouldn't be able to keep it from her for long.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were gutting your building?” she asked.

“Are they? I wasn't aware.”

“I think you knew.”

“I’d only heard rumblings. Nothing substantial. Certainly, nothing this soon."

Myka grunted in disapproval. "You couldn't have mentioned it was a possibility?"

"Discussing such destruction seemed cruel after all you’d been through. And I didn't want to alarm Christina.”

When Helena got kicked out, Myka was still a mess, so she could see where Helena was going with that. But Christina was going to find out eventually, whether while walking to the park or from a friend at school. Though she didn't mention it either the last time she saw Christina, probably for the same reasons Helena had kept it from her.

Standing from her stool, she walked across the room towards the group of objects littering the table. She fingered the frayed edge of a worn LP sleeve she dug out from the dumpster, one that once lived on a bottom shelf in Helena's living room with many others. They were visible from the couch while she was lying down, and she'd often wished they had a turntable to play them on. That couch provided so much comfort in those trying times, especially when Dewy would knead in circles and then curl up at her feet.

“I loved that apartment.”

“As did I.”

“Well, it’s gone. Ripped apart. The whole damn thing.”

“How do you—“

“Your couch was in a dumpster. We went inside. Took everything left of you we could carry.”

“We?”

“Me and Abigail."

“Oh. You and Abigail.”

The line quieted.

“Sorry, that was...” Harsh, Myka thought. But no harsher than finding her with Bonnie at the sale.

“A-And what treasures did you gather?” Helena asked, in soft, defeated tones.

“A, um...pen,” Myka said, describing the nearest thing to her. “From that Mexican place on Houston. The one with the soup Christina likes when she’s sick.”

“Pozole.”

“Yeah, that’s it."

“Then it's truly a souvenir worth saving,” Helena replied. Her words were polite but distant as if she was thinking about Christina being sick and her inability to comfort her. Myka wanted her to feel guilt, but over her, not her child. She looked around her collection for something less fraught.

“There’s that pom-pom Christina made at Brownies.” Dust fell to the table as Myka lifted an orange poof of yarn.

“The singular time we attended before she began kempo. It wasn’t for us.”

Myka drops the pom-pom and hones in on another item. “Shells from the beach you said were from Santa Cruz?”

“From our excursion after Claudia’s job interview at Apple. That was…an enlightening day.”

“Tell me more.”

“I shall, one day,” Helena answered. “But it wasn't terribly pleasant.”

“Oh, sorry." Myka searches her collection for something with a cheerier backstory.

“I’m touched you felt compelled to save these trinkets, but I must ask, whatever for?”

“They’re lost memories, like mine, from the fire, and I’m painting them for my show. Or at least trying to, but I’m running out of time.”

“Ah, yes! That makes perfect sense."

“It does? How?"

“Thus far, you’ve been piecing together memories, painstakingly recreating objects you’ve lost. But there’s a distance there as if you're compiling a catalog, much like the registrar you’ve trained to be."

“They’re more than cataloging—"

"But the objects from my flat are extant, and your renderings draw directly from their energy. Mixing our memories with your own adds a richness, describing the limbo we're all experiencing while building our lives again.”

“I, um...” Myka looked toward her easel, at the rendering of the calendar she rescued from the floor displayed there. Various events from that month flashed through her mind, and she realized the amount of baggage she was memorializing. Helena’s interpretation of her motives suddenly made sense, though unpacking them at the moment seemed too intense.

“Can you work on multiple paintings using artificial light?” Helena asked.

“I have been, and it helps. But I need to ship everything at least a week and a half in advance.”

“Ship many as you're able and take the rest with you on the plane.”

“Can I do that?”

“Yes. If you're still using wooden panels, they're not weighty. Pack them securely and pay the excess baggage fee,” Helena explained. “Buy them pre-primed to save time in the studio.”

“I like preparing them myself.”

“You must focus on content. Hire someone to prepare them for you, if that’s critical."

“You’re probably right.” Myka sighed.

“You're allowing too many distractions to get in your way.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Myka said, her bite from earlier gone.

“I’ll refrain from phoning if—“

“No. Call. I might not pick up, but this was...helpful." It was, but everything wasn't sitting right just yet. "We’re still not ok. Ok? You know that."

“I’m acutely aware.”

“As long as you know.”

“My offer still stands, either way.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Myka said, then tapped end her phone. That was all the critique she could handle for the day.

Positive news also eased tensions between them, as early on, Mrs. Frederic's bid won the sale. The sizable commission allowed her to step away from the gallery, though she promised to help out when needed. And the residency in LA got in touch before her trip and informed her she made it through to the semi-finalist round.

But she needs to get through tonight before anything can truly move forward, a big art night in Warsaw all round. The city's museums and galleries have openings concurrently, and tonight's crowd has already has exceeded expectations. The director's been buzzing around all evening, introducing her to new faces left and right. By the time Helena arrives, all the activity's made her head spin, and she's starting to zone out.

She spies Helena weaving towards her mid-sentence, cornered by a woman asking detailed questions about technique.

“Forgive the intrusion, but I must steal the guest of honor,” Helena says and hooks her arm through Myka’s. She leads her back across the room towards the entrance, then steps back and sweeps her eyes over her outfit. “Lovely as ever. More captivating in person. Though I did appreciate the preview over the phone.”

Myka blinks a few times, a little stunned by Helena’s actually here. “Y-you look nice, too. You didn't say you were wearing a dress.”

“I’m hardly well put together, but I did try my best. This event is too important to arrive both late and unkempt."

Myka searches for traces of unkemptness, but Helena's close-fitting dress is wrinkle-free. It compliments her frame so perfectly, she finds it difficult to look away. When she meets Helena's gaze, Helena's eyes fill with apology, and Myka's soften, accepting the gesture without reproach. Her show wouldn’t have come together without Helena's help, and she’s glad she’s finally here to share it with her.

"I thought you'd be here earlier. Was there lots of traffic?” Myka asks.

"I stopped by my hotel to change.”

“It’s not that far.”

“Yours was booked. Mine’s further away.”

“Oh. I didn't—“ A patron squeezing between them cuts Myka short.

Helena turns to face a painting on the wall. “This one’s mesmerizing in person. Nothing like the photo you sent. Its surface seems holographic, but that can’t be right.”

“I added mica powder to the pigment, to create a shine.”

“Myka power?” Helena quips, raising a brow.

“Very funny. You know what I mean. Christina said it should be shiny, like the sticker.”

“She is you’re harshest critic.”

“At times,” Myka says, with a smirk. “It is her sticker.”

“But the rendering is yours. And the sentiment an ode to childhood obsessions."

“It's about the resilience of materials in the harshest conditions,” Myka snaps, repeating the line she’s used all day. "But I guess it is a kid’s sticker, so...” She looks hard at the likeness of a curled and soiled Pegasus she created. Helena's interpretation wasn’t her intention, but she can see what she means.

“Have you repaired all the damage from your shipment?” Helena asks.

“Don’t get me started. I can’t believe the crappy repacking job they did."

“Manhandling must escalate the longer goods fester in Customs .”

“If they’d been held up anywhere but London, I don’t know what I would have done. Thank you again for convincing me to ask for Mrs. Frederic's help.”

“In my opinion, the paperwork error was inconsequential. They should never have been held back in the first place.”

“That’s what happens when I don’t double check things—"

“Myka, come and meet Priska," a woman interrupts. She places a hand on Myka’s shoulder and glances at Helena. “Ah, this must be the long-lost Helena. Welcome!"

“I’m pleased to have finally arrived,” Helena says, holding out a hand to shake. "You must be Eva, the director. Very nice to meet you,”

“Likewise,” Eva says, accepting the gesture. "I've heard much about you.”

“All good I hope.”

Eva smiles and looks across the gallery. “Come, talk with Priska. She’s intrigued by the calendar piece."

“There's a lot to be said, isn’t there?”

As they walk across the room, the mischievous look in Helena's eye leaves Myka wary of what "a lot" entails.

Helena shifts into dealer mode as they meet with Eva’s client, her charm on high as they check in with various guests. Myka chimes in when Helena's interpretations don’t line up with her own, but after their umpteenth conversation, she’s happy to let Helena speak for her. Helena mostly gets things right, plus she’s wiped from repeating herself, and watching Helena work, in her favor, is still a turn on.

There's a dinner after the opening, then drinks after that and Myka's running on steam by the drinks portion. Helena stays ever by her side, chatting with guests, refilling her glass, ensuring she's having a good time. It's comforting having Helena there to care of her, as she'd been mostly holed up alone for weeks.

During a lull in socializing, Helena glances at Myka and smiles a smile she knows is just for her. She slips her arm around Myka's waist, and Myka instinctively leans towards her, smiling back with equal sentiment.

As the hours pass, and the wine takes hold, their touches become more intimate. At some point, Myka tunes out the room entirely, and her eyes hanging on Helena's lips. The way they lift and stretch to match her cadence and inflection makes her wish they were moving over her skin. She aches to kiss her, but not here, somewhere private, somewhere alone. She snaps out of it when she realizes that’s not out of the question.

She asks the time, it's late, an appropriate time to leave. They say their goodbyes, then pile into a car someone called for them. Myka gives the driver directions, and when Helena adds a second stop, her heart sinks; it no longer makes sense to have asked her to book a separate room. It was an easy way out if their evening went unfavorably, but she assumed they'd be in the same hotel.

“I can’t wait to pass out,” she says, slumping back into her seat. She closes her eyes as the car drives away.

“You deserve a rest. And you’ll sleep soundly knowing tonight was a great success.”

“It was, wasn't it?” Myka says. She cracks an eye open to peer at Helena and sees she's sitting stiffly, too far away. She slides a hand across the seat and lays it over Helena’s thigh. “I’m glad you came.”

“Thank you for allowing me,” Helena says. She covers Myka’s hand with her own.

The car turns at a light and Myka settles back, closing her eyes again, resting her head on the top of the seat. The car turns and slows after continuing on for several minutes. When it stops, Helena removes her hand.

“Come up with me,” Myka says and squeezes Helena’s thigh.

Helena looks down at Myka's hand but doesn't answer.

"If you want," Myka adds. Was Helena's doting all an act? She did offer her hotel address rather quickly. Maybe she misread her; maybe she wants to be alone.

“I’d be happy to,” Helena says, laying her hand over Myka’s again and smiling as she meets Myka’s eyes.

They exit the vehicle and walk straight through the lobby, directly into an open elevator. Myka presses a button, and as they move skywards, she steps back and examines Helena’s shimmery ensemble.

“Your dress reminds me of the one from our first ‘official’ date.”

“Do you reckon?” Helena glances down at her garment.

“The cut’s the same, but the color's different. Did you do that on purpose?”

“I may very well have,” Helena replies.

The door opens and they walk down a corridor then stop in front of Myka’s room. Myka slips her keycard into the slot and upon entering, sheds her jacket and bag, throwing both over the arm of a chair. She turns and faces Helena, who is standing a few paces away.

“Take your coat off," Myka says, motioning for Helena to come closer.

“We should talk,” Helena says, her tone weighty, beyond the current mood.

“I know, but...” Myka steps behind Helena and reaches over her shoulders, slipping her fingers underneath her lapels. She leans forward and angles her head, so her lips nearly touch Helena's ear. “Let's keep tonight about me.”

Myka tugs on Helena's lapels and Helena circles her arms back, allowing Myka to slip her coat off entirely. Myka throws the coat on top of her own, then pads in front of Helena and threads a finger under the strap of her dress.

“Maybe we can have a do-over,” Myka says, her eyes following her finger as it slides up towards Helena's collarbone then back down to where the strap meets Helena's generous neckline.

“A what?”

“A do-over. For our 'official' first date.” Myka angles her eyes up, meeting Helena's questioning gaze. "We are in a hotel, and you are wearing a dress.”

"So it seems,” Helena says, her eyes falling to Myka's lips. She leans forward for a kiss, but Myka dodges, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the bed. As they reach the edge, Myka spins Helena around and taps on her shoulders so she falls into sitting position, Helena lays back and Myka crouches down, lifting Helena's foot, slipping off one heel and then another. She removes her own and drops both pairs to the floor while Helena shimmies up the bed until her head rests on a pillow. Myka crawls across the bed until her body is hovering over Helena’s and Helena adjusts so they're in perfect alignment.

“This is where we left off,” Myka says, dipping down for a kiss. Helena lifts her head, but Myka stops an inch short. “No, wait. You sit up and kiss me.” Myka settles back on her haunches and takes hold of Helena’s hands, placing them, palms down, above her knees.

Helena lifts slowly at the waist, palms skimming up Myka’s thighs as Myka cups Helena’s jaw and guides their lips together. Helena's thumbs slide inwards as they reach the hem of Myka's skirt, stretching eagerly towards tender, intimate flesh.

“Hey!” Myka yelps.

Helena freezes. “I thought we were continuing where we left off?”

“It was our first time, remember? You wouldn’t have moved that fast.”

“You haven't a clue what I would or would not have done.”

“Then tell me," Myka says, but kisses Helena her before she can answer, a strategic brush of Helena's thumbs impossible to ignore.

Helena rakes her hands up, over the curve of Myka's hips, and wraps her arms tightly around Myka's middle. Myka presses into Helena as Helena’s tongue parts her lips, the need for closer contact rushing through her like lightning. When they're forced to break for air, Helena places kisses across Myka’s cheek and lets her lips linger near her ear.

“Any flesh I’d longed to touch would have been unclothed immediately.” Helena reaches behind Myka’s shoulders and drags down her zipper. Myka leans back and lifts her arms, allowing Helena to peel her garment off entirely.

"I'd have mapped every arc and every crook; cataloged each utterance of pleasure I'd earned." Helena slides Myka’s bra strap over the slope of her shoulder and places a soft, lingering kiss on the rise of her breast.

“Wait," Myka says as painful memories trickle back. “If you wanted me so badly, why did you leave?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Helena says, laying her forehead on Myka's chest.

“But I still don’t understand,” Myka says, tipping Helena's head up, needing to see Helena's eyes as she answers.

“I thought tonight was to remain about you.”

“It was but…why were you so scared that night?”

“I’d only just learned I’d be deported.”

“That’s not it. Not enough for you to bolt. It was something else, something out of your control.”

“Myka...“

Myka sits back, distancing herself, brow furrowing as she replays the details of that evening. “You asked a lot of questions about Mrs. Frederic. But you already knew who she was, didn’t you?”

“Her reputation precedes her—“

“No, you knew her. You’d met her before. Were you working for her then?”

“I hadn’t met her until the day I was called into her office." Helena's eyes narrow and Myka shrinks back. She hit a nerve, as she did so often over the phone. “I think you're over-tired, and perhaps a bit tipsy,” Helena says, taking hold of Myka’s hands and drawing them towards her.

“I’m going to change,” Myka says, slipping her hands free and sliding off the bed. She walks towards the bathroom and after entering closes the door.

She leans on the counter and stares into the mirror, seeing what Helena saw. Her eyes are red and puffy, her hair fairly frazzled, but it's been a really, really long day, so she's not surprised. But maybe, just maybe, she's overreacting as she is both overworked and overtired.

She begins pulling out pins and thinking over the situation; was Helena spying on Macpherson for Mrs. Frederic all this time? And was Bonnie clued into the situation before now? Helena said Mrs. Frederic knew her, or rather knew Emily before London, but did she mean “knew of” or “knew her personally?” And if so, wouldn’t she have known the "other" Emily first? Unless she only knew "this" Emily, Helena's Emily, the one from the trial.

She yanks the last pin free and runs her fingers through, combing her hair out into rough, curled strands.

If Helena was telling the truth and she wasn’t Emily before their date, then it is possible, at dinner, she hadn't met Mrs. Frederic yet. So maybe she's jumping to conclusions, mixed up between Claudia's research and Helena's murky past. It is easy to fall into old patterns, so she probably should chill out until they can talk for real. They have a whole three days to hash things out, and it's best to do so with a clear head.

She brushes her teeth and gives her face a quick wash before swapping her clothes for a t-shirt and shorts. She hesitates before opening the door, how does she want to handle this? If things hadn’t gone sour so quickly, they’d be otherwise engaged right now. And she'd rather be doing that than confronting Helena. Maybe it's best to pass out and deal with it tomorrow.

When she opens the door, Helena's standing near the entrance, her coat and shoes already on.

“At least you didn’t sneak out this time.”

“I was certain you wouldn't want me to stay.”

“No, I do." Myka walks toward her suitcase and rummages through, pulling out a fresh t-shirt. “Here. Go change.”

Helena removes her coat and shoes then moves toward the bathroom, taking the t-shirt from Myka’s hand as she passes.

Once the door closes, Myka climbs onto the bed and burrows under the covers. She breathes deep breaths and closes her eyes, hoping to calm her nerves before Helena emerges.

Too few moments later, the bed dips down, and Helena sits motionless for what seems like an eternity. Myka doesn't move either, unsure of how to proceed, waiting for Helena to set the tone.

“Are you asleep?”

“No. Not yet."

“May I say something?”

“Sure."

“Our past may be irreparable, and our future...unpredictable. But our present is something we hold agency over.”

Myka rolls onto her side and bends her arm at the elbow, propping her head up with a hand. “How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"Since you first entered to bathroom."

"It's good. And I get it. You mean tonight is what we make it.”

“Yes,” Helena says. “You’d asked this evening be kept about you and I'd hoped you'd allow me to hold fast to that. You deserve a grand finish that only I can deliver. Let's end your successes on a high note."

“Selling yourself, instead of my paintings? Classy.” Myka huffs a short laugh.

“In a manner of speaking. Is that of any interest?"

"Kinda." Myka shrugs.

“Then I clearly misinterpreted your earlier intentions." Helena looks down at her hands.

“No, you didn't,” Myka says. “I'm interested. But it wouldn’t fix anything. And we’d still need to talk. A lot.”

“And we shall. Eminently.”

Myka slides her hand across the duvet and brushes a thumb over Helena's wrist. She may regret this tomorrow, but it is what she wants tonight.

Helena lifts her legs onto the bed and stretches out next to Myka, angling her body so they’re lying face to face. She cups Myka’s jaw and brushes a thumb over her cheek, looking into her eyes as if asking permission. Myka covers Helena’s hand and slides it over her lips, kissing it then laying it on the bed. She then eases Helena onto her back and straddles her hips, planting her hands on either side of her head. She dips down and kisses Helena as Helena's hands skim up her thighs, fingers sliding under Myka's hem with zero protests.

-TBC-

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Chapter Five: We'll Show Them-Luci

a/n: I’m out of school for the summer since I just finished exams, and it’s given me so much more writing time! I’m half way through a bunch of one shots, mostly Trixya and Rajila, and I can’t wait to share them with you! Enjoy this chapter.

summary: Shea gets let off the hook when the press question her about their night out, which angers Sasha and the pair make a deal.

“Velour, get yourself over here.” The voice was strong and powerful, causing a disruption through the room. The sheer volume of the bellow caused the bystanders to spin around and look at Sasha, the pairs of eyes glinting with curiosity. Sasha wrinkled her nose and put her hand to her forehead as she tried to shield away the embarrassment. She shrank down behind her desk, hiding herself behind her computer.

“Just another normal day at the office.” Alexis muttered, seemingly indifferent to the noise. She was more irritated by the lack of work being done and the disruption than the actual sound.

The source of the voice had been Eureka, who was standing impatiently in the doorway of her office, yelling across the hall. She gripped the hem of her dress in frustration, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. Her face was flushed a deep red, and Sasha could see her gritted teeth even over the distance she was standing. Sasha bit her lip and walked over, purposely avoiding eye contact with Shea, who was trying not to laugh. Sasha got in enough trouble with Eureka, who desperately disliked the woman, for Shea not to be worried.

Eureka was taller than Sasha, and she loomed over her like a storm cloud. At least, Sasha felt like she was trapped in a storm when Eureka pulled her aside. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about what happened on Friday? The press are sticking their noses in after the man threatened to sue. Your public meeting is in a few days, this could be devastating.” Eureka screamed, only a hint of sympathy in her eyes, like a tiny fleck. She had a similar work ethic to Alexis, Sasha had once mused, but when Alexis screamed, it was out of love. She couldn’t say the same for Eureka.

“What did you want me to say? It wasn’t even me who touched him, he touched me.” Sasha’s body shook as she thought about it. Her memory of the events had come back with her soberness and slips of the tongue from her co-workers.

“I know what you’re implying and, yes, Shea is speaking at a press conference later today to explain what she did. It’s been advised that you don’t speak, so you’ll need to tell Shea what you want her to say on your behalf.” Eureka informed; her voice quieter than before, which was a relief to Sasha.

The man Shea had fought at the bar had wasted no time going to the press about it, claiming he’d been harassed by her. Sasha and the rest of the office could only stare on in horror as his story made it into gossip magazines and newspapers. There had been no mention of Shea’s reasoning, or the incident with Sasha, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. It was her fault Shea was in this position.

“That’s great but what about the guy? Doesn’t he get in trouble?” Sasha complained, her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“That’s up to the police and our company lawyers. Even if you didn’t, Alexis and Shea took the matter to Trinity and reported it. Hopefully Shea’s conference will back us up and we can get him prosecuted.” Eureka shrugged. Sasha wanted to argue further but Eureka already looked tired of the conversation.

“Talk to Shea before lunchtime and we’ll go from there.” Eureka dismissed her with a wave of her manicured hand. Sasha turned towards the door and rolled her eyes, muttering a half-hearted goodbye to Eureka.

Sasha trudged away, defeated, as Eureka watched her leave. Everyone in the room, who had been pretending they weren’t trying to listen, turned their attention back to their computers so that they could avoid eye contact. Shea, on the other hand, waved to get her attention. Sasha walked over to her desk with a smile.

“So,” Shea sung, “what was all that about?”

Sasha rolled her eyes, “She yelled at me for not telling her about the, y’know, incident even though Trinity has already reported it, so there’s nothing she can do. Oh, and she wants me to compile a list of things for you to say for me, because I’m incapable of speaking for myself.”

“Well that’s classic Eureka isn’t it? Just tell me what you want me to say, if it means you get to avoid the press and journalists then it’s worth it.” She shrugged, jabbing her computer screen with her finger to indicate that Sasha should email her. Sasha enjoyed their email threads, mostly because it meant she got to talk to Shea without being told off for being unproductive. She had decided that what her bosses didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and at least she looked like she was doing some work. However, they were much less fun when the emails were about actual work.

“Thanks Shea. You have time to get lunch or are you busy actually doing good work?” Sasha joked, eyes flickering over to Shea’s work space, not a piece of paper, file or a note in sight.

“I’m afraid so. I’ll catch you after lunch; I’ll need some good luck.” Shea winked as she uncrossed her legs and leaned back in her chair.

“I’ll be here, don’t worry. And you’ll do fine, everyone will love you.” Sasha reassured when Shea looked worried. Aja called her name, yelling about Trinity’s request to see her and discuss what she was going to say. Shea squeezed her shoulder as she said goodbye and walked over to Trinity’s office.

Sasha was bored. Everyone was outside with the cameramen, watching the excitement unfold outside their building. She had been left alone to do work, but she couldn’t help but be distracted as she stared out of the window. She sat with an apple held limply in her hand, and she distractedly took a bite whenever she remembered that it was in her hand.

Sasha’s eyes narrowed when the flashes of a camera blurred her vision through the other side of the window. It belonged to the cameraman who worked for the Brooklyn Daily. Sasha never really read the newspaper, since her parents never believed it its stories when she was younger, but she’d done a story with their lead editor. The woman, Peppermint, was a charismatic New Yorker who had captured many fans from her light-hearted, fun writing. Sasha had only met her twice but, as a trans- woman, Peppermint seemed to be the only person who didn’t seem uncomfortable around her, and it was a refreshing change from the public’s homophobia.

Sasha could see Peppermint standing beside the cameraman, speaking to Shea with a microphone in her hand. Shea had met the editor more times than Sasha, and the two got on well. They joked around for a bit, and Sasha could see them laughing from her desk. Everyone was standing outside watching, but Trinity hadn’t let either Sasha or Farrah join the others, claiming that their big mouths would get them into trouble. Farrah hadn’t minded; instead she’d found herself in Trinity’s office watching television. Sasha, however, was having much less fun.

She couldn’t hear much through the window, but by the look of everyone’s expressions, Shea was winning them over. She was good at that. Shea took the microphone in her hands and spoke, something Sasha couldn’t understand, and the audience laughed. Peppermint punched Shea gently on the arm, her head thrown back in laughter.

“What the hell are you doing in here? We have the run of the office while everyone’s watching Shea and Trinity. We can run wild.” Farrah spun on the spot with an evil laugh. Sasha laughed and stood up to steady Farrah after she stumbled dizzily.

“Come on Farrah, we’re not animals. Besides, they’re talking about me; I wanna know what they’re saying.” Sasha argued. Farrah shrugged and leaned on the wall next to Sasha to watch the conference below them.

“Oh, just ask Shea later or read the damn newspaper when the story comes out. Aja told me the vending machine is on the verge of death, if we kick it enough we might get the free stuff. Come help me.” Farrah grabbed Sasha’s hand while she groaned in annoyance. She dragged Sasha into the corner where the crew took their breaks, two old arm chairs on either side of a rusted vending machine. The red paint had faded from years of wear, and the machine itself looked about fifty years old. Everyone in News Office had placed bets around Sasha’s third day at her desk on how long it would take for it to break and send free snacks into the hands of whoever won the bet. Years later, the machine had begun to seem indestructible.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Sasha laughed, moving aside to watch Farrah hit the glass of the machine with her outspread hand. She groaned when nothing happened, the snacks still sitting tauntingly in their slots.

Sasha kicked the bottom machine to humour Farrah, listening to the woman shout in victory when she thought she saw the snacks become unsteady.

“So, have you heard anything new about your meeting? Are they letting you speak?” Farrah asked in between punches of the machine, her brilliant blue eyes filled with questions.

“I know it’s after office hours, so none of you lot can eavesdrop. They’re bringing in some members of the public, Trinity, Eureka and I’m pretty sure some journalists too. I think Trinity wants me to make a statement, but she’s worried I’ll ruin it for myself again. She’ll probably coach me on what to say anyway, so I shouldn’t be worried.” Sasha shrugged, forcing a smile to counteract the pout on Farrah’s face. Farrah stopped moving, the kicks and punches stopping, as she watched Sasha.

“I’m sorry this is happening, this is so shit. You shouldn’t have to justify calling out a homophobe. I can’t relate but I kissed a girl in college and Aja at the Christmas party once…well, anyway, you get what I’m saying.” Farrah fumbled through her words, a rosy blush on her cheeks. Sasha patted her on the shoulder to show that she appreciated the younger woman’s efforts.

“There’s nothing we can do about it, it’s the public’s fault. I’m bringing views down because they don’t like someone gay telling them the news.” Sasha wasn’t great at hiding her feelings, and Farrah was obviously sensing her discomfort.

“Don’t worry about it till Thursday. Come on, this is just useless. Let me get you some chocolate instead of trying to pay with punches.” Farrah put some change in the slot, halving the bar with Sasha. She took it with a grateful smile, listening to Farrah ramble about some gossip Kimora told her. She was talking too fast for Sasha to understand, but she nodded along anyway. She was thankful when the door swung open and Shea, Trinity and Eureka walked through.

Everyone looked as though they were in a good mood, and Sasha felt relieved when the atmosphere remained as light as it had been when it was just herself and Farrah. Shea’s charismatic smile was shot in Sasha’s direction over Eureka’s shoulder as the woman had been talking to her. When Eureka walked away, she shot Sasha a quick look, but it didn’t seem to hold any malice. Trinity had smiled at her, but that was normal. Towards Sasha, Eureka had a father’s disappointment, but Trinity had a mother’s affection.

“Peppermint told me to say hi. She’s a nice woman; we should get her on the show more often.” Shea greeted as Sasha walked over to her.

“Yeah, she’s great isn’t she? The three of us would make quite a team.” Sasha mused aloud. Shea nodded in agreement.

“Were you trying to get free snacks without me? I thought you were better than that.” Shea held her hand over her head in mock offense.

“Sorry, the snacks wait for no man. We didn’t do it though, guess karma is a bitch.” Sasha argued with a laugh. Her laugh was deep, and sometimes she felt uncomfortable laughing with Shea, whose own laugh was musical and light. Shea loved it though, and she often said it made her laugh harder than the joke itself.

“Aren’t you curious about what happened?” Shea teased with a smile when Sasha stepped towards her.

“You,” Sasha poked her lightly in the chest, “have to tell me everything. I’ve been waiting for hours to find out what happened.”

“I was so nervous. I sat down with Peppermint who was taking notes, and these bitches with cameras wouldn’t get out my face. But she asked me all about punching that guy, and how it affected you and stuff. She straight up called me a hero when I told her what happened. It was real sweet.” Shea smiled. It faltered slightly when she saw Sasha’s blank expression.

“Wait, so when you attack a homophobe you’re a hero, but when I do it I’m ‘threateningly aggressive’? I didn’t even touch the guy, I just yelled at him. Why do people think it’s fine for someone straight to stand up for gay people, but not someone actually gay?” Sasha frowned.

Shea put her hands up in defence, “Hey don’t get all social justice on me, it’s not my fault. I stuck up for you. Peppermint told me she’d write a really good article for you. Also, I’m not even straight.”

“Yeah, but you are as far as they know. Doesn’t the hypocrisy bother you though, Shea?” Sasha asked; her eyes boring into Shea’s.

“Yeah of course, but I feel like you’re blaming me for something I can’t help.” Shea shrugged; her gesture apologetic.

Sasha knew it wasn’t Shea’s fault. If anything, Shea was the only person trying to help her. But anger had manifested itself in her mind and she didn’t care who was standing in front of her. Even with Peppermint’s story, Sasha was still going to get fired for no reason. She sighed deeply, wondering why no one had warned her to watch her mouth before she interviewed a homophobe. She supposed, though, she probably wouldn’t have listened.

“I’m sorry, Shea.” Sasha offered sheepishly, handing Shea the last square of chocolate she had. Shea took the peace offering eagerly.

“Don’t worry about it. Go grab your bag and shit, I’ll take you home.” Shea grinned, gesturing to Sasha’s cluttered desk. Sasha thanked her and walked over towards her desk, logging off her computer as she reached for her jacket and bag. She walked around the front of her desk to say goodbye to Alexis, who was taking her pencils from Kimora after catching her throwing them at Aja.

Sasha rolled her eyes when Alexis gave her a meaningful look as she saw Shea waiting for her by the door. Desperate to get out of the situation, she sped out of the door, almost tripping down the stairs.

Shea skipped up to Sasha to catch up with her, opting instead for a saunter when Sasha looked up to greet her. She laughed at the change of pace, wondering when Shea had ever made the effort to act cool around her. She supposed, though, things had changed. Sasha had been lost in thought as always, and Shea lightly punched her on the shoulder as she shook her head. Sasha furrowed her eyebrows in offense and Shea laughed at her. She was glad things hadn’t changed that much.

“Let me take you on a date, Sash.” Shea asked, the sudden proposal catching Sasha by surprise. Shea was always forthright, and she waited impatiently for a response from her still stunned co-worker.

“Shea, you know we can’t do this. I want to, but we’d both be out of a job and-” Sasha was cut off by Shea waving her hand to quieten her. There wasn’t hurt in her eyes like before, Shea’s ebony eyes only held frustration. For some reason, that unnerved Sasha more than anything.

“We can try. They don’t have to know.” Shea countered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Trinity and Eureka’s offices.

Sasha’s eyes followed Shea’s gesture, only seeing the closed blinds and shut doors of the offices across the corridor. Sasha shook her head with a slight laugh, “And I thought I was the bad influence, darling. But it’s not even about being gay; co-workers aren’t allowed to date, especially when one of them is the boss.” Shea bit her lip, knowing that Sasha was right.

“You know what, Sasha Velour? Let’s make a deal. If I can take you on one date without anyone getting suspicious, you’ll let me take you on another.” Shea offered, sticking her hand out in front of Sasha, waiting for her to shake.

“And what’s in it for me, Miss Coulee?” Sasha smirked. She was teasing; and Shea knew it when Sasha reached out to shake her hand regardless of her question.

“You get the fabulous prize of a date with me.” Shea grinned, giving Sasha a quick peck on the lips before slinging her bag over her shoulder and making her way over to the door.

“Hang on, you’re my ride, idiot.” Sasha laughed as she sped up to walk beside Shea, who held the door open for her with her foot. Shea winked and put her hand on the small of Sasha’s back, only taking it off when they encountered Farrah painting her nails at her desk.

She stained the desk surface with pink polish and swore, hardly noticing the pair. She picked up the box of tissues next to her laptop and used a few to wipe away the nail polish. It didn’t work and she groaned loudly, merely waving the two women away as she dealt with her problem.

Shea guided Sasha to where she’d parked on the road opposite their building. Sasha hadn’t been sure when they’d started holding hands, but she was sure it had been when their hands had swung a bit too close together. Shea was softer than Sasha had realised before, and she had a habit of clasping Sasha’s hand in her own. Of course, she had never minded.

Sasha was jealous of Shea’s slick black Mazda, particularly because it meant she earned enough to actually afford a car and its gas, whereas Sasha could barely afford the bus fares.She stepped into the passenger seat as Shea switched on the radio before putting the car into motion. She turned up the music, switching the station until they both agreed on a song.

Sasha laughed as Shea launched into a song, smiling smugly before she rapped the verse after it. Sasha tried to join in but stumbled, making Shea clap gleefully. They drove off into the direction of Sasha’s apartment, Sasha drumming on the dashboard as Shea sung loudly.

#sashea #luci #sasha velour #shea coulee #rpdr fanfiction #wst by luci #lesbian au #s9

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canonicallyanxious · 7 years

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11, 22, 24, 25, 44 and 47

LAUREN ILY KAY BYE

send me some numbers and i’ll answer stuff about fic writing????? idk

11. do you listen to music when writing?

yes. excessively so, probably. idk i just can’t focus unless i’m listening to something, silence makes me too anxious to concentrate properly so i like to have something in the background that keeps my mind occupied. if i really need to focus i have a playlist of instrumentals i turn to, otherwise anything that’s not too catchy will do

22. favorite story you’ve ever written

Well this would have to go to making new cliches now that i’m actually done with it and it’s not stressing me the hell out lol. i mean it’s not perfect by any means and i could probably pick out all its flaws in my sleep but ultimately i think i told the story i wanted to tell and i think that’s what matters most. also i pushed myself a lot in terms of experimenting with writing style and storytelling and i feel like i improved at least some of the things i wanted to improve which is nice. mnc would tie with one lifetime with you, which is a collaboration i did with @boxesfullofsanasmiling for a previous non-SKAM fandom [coincidentally also around 130k words WHY AM I LIKE THIS] and i never actually spent any time while writing it hating it which is definitely the only time that has ever happened and it’s all because i was working with the amazingly talented lyds so there’s that

24. favorite scene you’ve ever written

oh fuck this is a hard one. shit. i can’t really think of this in terms of favorite scenes per se, just scenes i enjoyed writing. and right now i only remember what it was like to write making new cliches oops so i’ll compile a small list of scenes i enjoyed writing from that:

Chapter 3, where Even tells Isak that he’s moving away at the playground and they race home and isak wins because ~symbolism~

Chapter 7, the scene where they watch Romeo + Juliet together AKA mnc’s version of call your girlfriend

Pretty much all of Chapter 8 was a fucking blast to write, especially the phone call at the beginning and the playground scene

The whole beginning part of Chapter 9 up until Even has to leave for home, mostly because it was the first time i was writing them in the very beginning phases of their relationship in any fic and it was a lot of fun

The playground scene in chapter 12 [this fic and playground scenes……..]

Isak and his mom in the epilogue

25. favorite line you’ve ever written

UMMMMMM. FUCK LOL listen according to ao3 i have over 550k published words idk that i can answer this question not because i have that many favorite lines but just because i’ve written so fucking many i don’t remember all that i’ve written aksjdnakdnasdnaskjda so i’ll just pull one from the last thing i wrote which is the last chap for mnc [wow this ask focuses a lot on mnc doesn’t it i’m sorry i’m still trying to process that it’s over]

Or it doesn’t. It doesn’t, and the seconds tick by as Even stands in his doorway, the cold night air seeping easily through the thin fabric of his shirt and nipping at his bare toes, stark against his skin. The seconds go by, and they turn to minutes, but they could turn to hours for all he cares just so long as he has this, the face of a boy he loves in his hands and the soft warmth of his lips against his. He can’t bring himself to care about anything else in the entire world, not if he can have this for the rest of his life.

44. do you write linear or do you write future scenes if you feel like it?

Usually linear! I have attempted to write out of order before but i always ended up having to do even more editing after because it’s just easier for me to know how best to capitalize on a scene and its emotional impact if i know for sure how i’m going to build up to it and i hardly ever know that until i actually write it

47. how many unfinished ideas/stories are you working on at the same time?

I have a lot of ideas at any given time but i have found that i can’t juggle writing more than one actual fic at once. it gets very distracting especially since i have to divide emotional investment between the two, i’d rather just devote all my energy to one

#call this a mask #answers

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perpetually-jungshook · 7 years

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what is your writing process like? how long does it take you to develop the story-line and to actually sit down and write? i have some cute Namjoon fic ideas, but i don't want to start something and then fizzle out part way through....how do you maintain your motivation? ❤️the Ji to your Hope anon ❤️

This is going to be a really long answer, so I’m going to cut it with a “Keep Reading.” If you have any problem seeing the part below, please let me know and I can make other arrangements 😊

ALRIGHT. So first things first, I apologize in advance if I sound pretentious. At all. It’s definitely not my intention. The following comes from a place of my passion for writing and I hope that whatever meaning you derive from it can help in your own journey of literary exploration!

Now, as you probably know, I’m an English major working on an emphasis in creative writing. I’ve taken a few creative writing courses and have bumped elbows with a lot of brilliant writers. Below I will compile an answer based off of my experience in those classes mixed with my opinion. If you would like an elaboration on any part, please let me know and I will be more than happy to explain.

1) my writing process

Honestly? All of my life, I’ve kind of just started writing. This doesn’t seem like very helpful advice, so let me explain 😂 Once you find a source of inspiration, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, don’t throw it away. You never know what kind of story it will blossom into. For example, it could be something as interesting as the night out that lead to my story “Deep Down, Inside” or something as simple as, say, frustration at how good a person looks when they’re a strawberry blond so gosh darn it now you’re writing a whole entire series about it and people seem to like it for whatever reason and what the HELL it’s now like the most popular thing on your blog- but yeah. Catalogue things that inspire you even if only in bullet points in a list on your phone 😄

STEP 2) after finding your inspiration. Start writing. It’s just that simple. You can always delete or edit an introduction later. If you’re interested in quick “getting started on a story” tips, just ask! And once you start writing, don’t stop. In the words of Ron Carlson, “don’t leave the room” literally or figuratively. You’ll want to look up names, definitions, get a cup of coffee, etc. DON’T DO IT! Those can be done later 😉 Often times our biggest weakness when it comes to writing is DISTRACTIONS. The more you leave, the less you’re writing. And the less time you spend writing, the harder it’ll be to remember your inventory (a word that will be elaborated upon later).

Now, this all stems from my belief that the writer should not force a narrative to go somewhere. Essentially, the author should have a conversation with their story, not guide or corral it. This allows for genuine character development and interesting, unexpected plot twists (ironic, I know, but you have to admit that in some stories, certain “plot twists” are completely expected). I will elaborate on this more momentarily.

Essentially, my writing process is: after finding something inspiring, I open up a document and start typing. Then keep typing. Don’t edit. You’re not there to be an editor. You’re there to write. Everything else comes later.

2) How long does it take me to develop the story line and to actually sit down and write?

Well... my life is kind of sad in such a way that I cannot live without writing. I go through literal withdrawals and depressions. I approach it like an art, like a part of myself. It may sound dramatic and it totally is, but words just burn me until they get out of my head. So it’s relatively, ridiculously easy in a way that’s really unfair when I’m giving advice for me to have ideas. It’s almost a detriment 😅 To answer the question directly, personally, I have two approaches to planning a story line.

1) I have no idea what the heck I’m doing and I write only what the story seems to want (see Goldilocks). This allows for more genuine characters as I let them speak instead of me speaking for them. Their dialogue, in my mind, becomes the words of a real person with real dreams and real aspirations and real motives (yes, I say this word addressing its negative connotations too). This option also makes writing a lot more fun for you as the author! 😄 why? Because every surprise for the reader is also a surprise for you~

2) The second option, my only other approach because I am a pendulum person, is elaborately planning out the plot (see Without You: Bloodstone). This can often be exhausting and intricate, obviously taking a lot of time and effort on your part to make sure every little detail matters. I do not recommend this for people who want to write casually/sensationally/shallowly for lack of better word. I’m not saying that these are any worse or less nor greater or better than deep, rhetorical writing 😊 it’s like different tastes in foods~ we each lean a certain way and it’s good to dabble in the other style every so often but let’s not kill ourselves over it, yeah?? (sensational vs. rhetorical readers/writers- a term I came up with- is a whole different conversation). ANYWAY! Bloodstone, as my primary example, took me a week in total to brainstorm. At least... the general lore stuff. The plot itself mostly stays true to my “making it up as I go along” motto, just with a few set plot points as guides. Essentially, I build the world my characters live in, give them a problem to solve, and then let them solve it on their own terms instead of mine.

Hopefully that makes sense? 😂 obviously, these are not the only two approaches and they are on a spectrum. I highly recom”mend you find a place on it that’s comfortable for you 💖

3) how do I maintain motivation?

Again, writing to me is an art. It’s something that I have to do in order to be a happy, functioning human being. So my answer might be a little unfair... and I apologize for that. I’ll thus try to approach the question objectively.

First, I’ll pull back what I said earlier, “Essentially, the author should have a conversation with their story, not guide or corral it...This option also makes writing a lot more fun for you as the author! 😄 why? Because every surprise for the reader is also a surprise for you~”

If you’re having fun while writing, it’s a lot easier to keep writing, no? If you know exactly what’s going on at all times, it gets boring. If it’s already panned out in your imagination, why write it at all? To get notes? I will always be an advocate of “write for yourself first and foremost.” This also makes the story more enjoyable for you.

Second, I’m going to address the dreaded writer’s block. A lot of people will say “set the story aside and come back to it later.” To that, I retort with, “No don’t you dare do that because you and I both know you’ll probably never pick it up again.” STAY IN THE ROOM (to quote Ron Carlson). I believe that one of the biggest causes of writer’s block is not knowing where to go. This is a fair observation, yes? Your brain basically says “yup. This story has reached a dead end” and “dead end” translates to “conclusion,” a rather frustrating imaginary/subconscious “the end” even if you feel like you still have more plot points to reach.

But Kay, what do I do to get myself out of this?

If you want to save your story, it’s time to do some editing! Well, okay, maybe not editing, but rereading. You need to take an inventory. Key word, remember it. INVENTORY. This is a literal list of physical objects, characters, and plot points/loose ends. If you write on the fly, there will sometimes be items that appear. You’ll have no idea why they’re there. A lanyard, a book, something as random as a spatula? Sure. If it appears in your story it might be useful later. These are physical objects that your brain can attach to and can move around in your story’s world. Maybe that lanyard thrown so haphazardly into a physical description of the love interest’s backpack becomes a telltale sign that it was them that left that anonymous love letter in your protagonist’s desk because it’s now wrapped up inside. Maybe that book you mentioned when describing the setting turns out to belong to your protagonist’s grandfather and helps them figure out the mysterious anagram that had been left in a dusty diary found in the attic. Maybe that spatula so casually used to make brownies during an interview turns out to be the murder weapon. YOU NEVER KNOW.

I’m going to lump characters and plot points/loose ends together simply because I feel like this is getting hella long (whoops). Personally, I’ve learned how to notice loose ends while I’m writing and will keep a bulleted list of questions or things to be resolved at the end of the document so that I can see it while I’m writing. This lengthy list will often have character names and important traits/facts as well (example: did you mention an age? a day of the week? a season? Did your character ever text back that one dude?). And if you feel like you’re missing something or running low, go back and reread. Your inventory can always increase.

This list will be a lifeline when stuck with writer’s block. You need to resolve SOME of these issues that are now (thank GOODNESS) explicitly listed right in front of you. Even if it doesn’t feel like you’re moving along to your next planned plot point, who cares? 😄 Maybe your story doesn’t want to go there!

And in the end, it is my belief that your story will sound more genuine, more real if you let it speak to you.

I hope this helped! And I look forward to being able to see your fic 😊 keep me posted on how it’s going and if you need any help brainstorming or just want to discuss creative writing in general, I am always down for that.

Much love ~🐰 xx

#personal #writing advice #the ji to my hope #that casual anon #Anonymous

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my-ocean-is-bluer · 7 years

Text

In other news... Asperger's?

I'm very convinced that I have Asperger's. I suspected it for a while (past few months) but tonight I really sat down and did a lot of research, took available online tests (grounded in scientific research, they don't diagnose but suggest you get tested if you fall within a certain threshold) and for everything I tested very close to the average for females with Asperger's. I don't believe I was ever tested for this but the extreme social disconnect/difficulty I've experienced in college made me suspicious. Now, lots of things from my childhood and the rest of my life are kind of falling together and it's really really overwhelming. I'm just posting on this blog because I don't feel comfortable talking to anybody about this and this is kind of a log of my mental state, etc. 1. When I was a young kid, my teachers always expressed to my parents that they couldn't tell whether I was paying attention / engaged in class. My mom always told me teachers didn't know if I cared because they couldn't "read" my face and I was always very inexpressive. 2. Since coming to college, I can't tell when people want to talk to me. It's happened to me more than once that I and another person I know will be the only two people in a hallway. They'll gesture to me or say "hey!" and I'll still keep walking without responding. Then later I'll realize and will be like "Oh, were you talking to me?" 3. I tend to get really obsessed with certain things/hobbies but mostly for very short amounts of time before I move on to something else. When I'm still interested, I read entire Wikipedia articles, watch tons of videos on the subject, visit forums, join Facebook groups, etc. and I feel really incomplete if I don't learn everything there is to learn. I make checklists and organize all of this information once I've compiled it. 4. I've always tended to imitate characters or behaviors I observed during social gathering or conversations because I don't know how to act in those situations. 5. In my two years of college, I haven't made a single "close" friend (with the exception of my roommate. I get annoyed with her sometimes but sometimes I get really tired of being alone with myself and need someone to distract me). I used to think I struggled to make friends because of social anxiety, but I'm starting to realize it's not quite that... I just don't "click" with people. I don't understand how to communicate with others and I don't understand how friendships and relationships form. 6. When people are talking to me or complimenting me I can never tell if they're being sincere or if they're making a joke or being sarcastic. In the same vein, I can't always tell when people are being sarcastic and then they'll say "you know I'm joking, right?" 7. In high school and in college I've been told I sound really formal and I really don't get it! In high school I was in a play and my director kept telling me to drop the accent I was doing. I had no idea what they were talking about and had to keep insisting that I wasn't putting on an accent and was just speaking normally. In my first semester of college I wrote a personal reflection / free-write for class and when I was asked to read it aloud, my teacher criticized me for my writing style being too formal (even though I had no idea I would have to read it to others, that's just how I write). She mocked me, actually, and it was embarrassing. 8. I suffer from really intense anxiety because I never know what people expect from me, both socially and academically. This makes interacting with people really intimidating and makes assignments seem insurmountable. I overwork myself and never know if my work is good enough, then I get it back and it's always fine, but that fact doesn't seem to help. For this reason I always like to have very specific instructions for assignments or else I feel really lost. 9. I want to work in the film industry but never deemed myself creative enough to be a filmmaker because I can't think of a story without copying existing work. People always say, "but you are a creative person!" because I like to sing and act, but those things are very different from having to imagine your own stuff. I'm better at organizational skills. 10. I can't relax unless I've done everything I have to do for the day (often depression prevents me from doing so and so I get really anxious and have a hard time sleeping). I make lists in various formats and schedule everything I have to do, even the most minor things. 11. I adjusted really poorly to both high school and college and I'm terrified of change. I don't know what else to say about this one. One little thing gone awry in my schedule messes up my entire day, and if something unexpected happens I really struggle to get back on track. 12. My "friends" seem to cancel on me last minute all the time and it makes me super angry. I consider it really disrespectful and assume it means I'm not anybody's priority (which might be true because I don't feel connected to anybody-- why should they feel connected to me?) I'm starting to wonder if this seems to keep happening because I don't understand when people say "yes" but it's actually more of a "maybe, I'll have to let you know later". I think it's possible that I just can't tell the difference from their expressions and so I always take any kind of affirmation as a commitment and a solid "yes" and am totally caught off guard when they back out. Anyway, that's it. I just had to word vomit all of that out because I was feeling overwhelmed by everything and wanted to write it down. I have to wake up in 6 hours but at least I feel a little more under control. I don't know what to do about this. I had decided that I wouldn't get any mental help until the end of this academic year in 7 months, and then when I go home I'd try to reconnect with my high school therapist. I really want to hear her thoughts on this because I'm just the kind of person who needs to know instead of just kind of wonder. I put together all my results on a page/report and I'm going to print it. So, feelings. When I sat down to write this I was feeling kind of panicked because I sort of feel like I don't know myself. I was being treated for social anxiety but nothing was really working... if it turns out the signs are correct and I have Asperger's that kind of means transitioning to a "fixable" problem to something that's actually just ingrained in me and permanent. I've been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety, OCD, and an eating disorder not otherwise specified, and so I was feeling pretty sure of things until now. I'm wondering if some of those issues I thought I had, like OCD and generalized anxiety, could actually be results of Asperger's, since some of the behaviors line up. I also read that though Asperger's is present since childhood, it may not be noticeable until a certain situation pushes a person to capacity. I think going to college might be that situation that's pushed me to a point where I'm really starting to realize I don't act the same as others (at home I knew everyone since I was really young so meeting new people and forming relationships wasn't something I actually experienced to the extent I'm experiencing it now). I feel I've never tried harder to form friendships, but I'm still super unsuccessful and I genuinely couldn't tell why. So. Now all that's down, I can calm down a bit. I'm going to bed. It's been 2 years since I've seen my therapist, but I really could use some help. I've been drowning the whole time and the death of my dog has really destroyed me. An Asperger's diagnosis might be kind of scary but it also could be kind of a relief. I don't think these feelings/behaviors are a result of my grief since a lot of them are from before that happened and from my childhood. *P.S. Take everything I say here with a grain of salt. I'm not a psychiatrist. I need one to give me their two cents on what I'm experiencing to make conclusions.*

#me #mental illness #aspergers #autism #asperger's

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bffhreprise · 6 years

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Entry 217

”Mila, what’s bothering you?” inquired Aaliyah.

I did my best to look at them inquisitively, though holding back my rage and tears was taking considerable effort. Alma, who had killed my parents, was within arm’s reach, not that I could likely do much to her if I did reach her. I was managing to appear calm due to all of the distractions, but maintaining my facade felt taxing.

“Brandon used the word ‘manly’ again.” replied Mila with a frown.

“Oh? What are they doing that’s so manly?” asked Emma, grinning.

I couldn’t care less what the boys were up to. They had nothing to do with my revenge. Even thinking the words to myself, I knew they weren’t true. The death of anyone here would greatly affect the others. Everyone was very tightly knit, except me, the outcast who had barely been introduced to them. Why was I going on a girls’ night? Did they actually want to know me, or were the Slayers trying to manipulate me into joining them?

“Remember how I mentioned that the boys are planning on watching Star Wars in the the theater tonight? They haven’t actually started yet, having been sidetracked with acceptable attire for a manly night. I helped Jarod fabricate stylized lightsaber wasters along with fitting costumes, such as a Darth Vader costume for the master. Brandon found it especially manly, of course. They’ve been practicing with the lightsabers in costume for a while now, demonstrating manly ways to be killed by Jarod when not toying with Force powers.” explained Mila.

“Sounds fun!” exclaimed Emma.

At the same time, Brenna said, “Ugh. Only my brother would be going on about how manly he is.”

“Force powers?” asked the twins in unison.

Nodding, she said, “Yes, the master is utilizing spells to simulate whatever the other two signal to do. He’s been perfecting Force Lightning for over twenty minutes, trying to get the color and motion true to the films while leaving out the actual shock.” She motioned to one of the windows which darkened more before displaying a lightning effect shooting from James’ fingers.

“Let the boys have their fun. We’re each getting a very nice collection of ensembles.” stated Alma.

I couldn’t read her at all. Her face was an obvious mask between her emotions and the rest of us. Could someone really get to know her?

“Of course. Brandon did say how girly shopping is. We’re doing just as he would expect. You should have seen how manly his deaths in the kitchen were as the master prepared food.” replied Mila with a nod.

“Oh really?” asked Alma, though her voice suddenly made ice seem warm.

“Brandon has a way of contrasting all of the boys’ manly endeavors with our own girly plans. I apologize if our schedule was supposed to be a secret, but the topic came up with the master.” replied Mila.

Nodding, Alma flatly stated “I see.”

Emma grinned again, suggesting “Why don’t we go show the boys the power of female Jedi?”

“Indeed. Mila, would you mind fabricating costumes and lightsabers for us?” inquired Alma.

“Not at all.” she replied, smiling now. She motioned again to the window she had used as a screen and said, “I have a selection of styles for Jedi garments which I believe will accommodate everyone’s tastes. As for lightsabers, I’ll show you known hilts as well as what the boys are using.” Another window darkened and then lit up as Mila motioned to it. “For anyone interested in seeing which Force powers the boys are utilizing, I’ve compiled a list along with the appropriate motions, though I can’t provide suggestions on duplicating the effects.”

Mila was incredible. Really incredible. My parents would have loved seeing the things she could do. The idea that she was artificially constructed would have been just as mindblowing for them as it was to me, despite the many years of experience they had.

“Are you sure we should derail our plans? We won’t really be having a girls’ night anymore if we’re with them, and we’ll be in the way of their manly activities.” stated Brenna.

“Mila, did the boys inquire if we might be using the theater tonight?” questioned Alma.

“No. None of them pursued our schedule that far, and Brandon seems to hope that they can watch all of the movies tonight.” she replied.

Looking at Brenna, Alma said, “Are you fine with them claiming the theater without even inquiring whether or not we might want the use of it? I’m sure getting revenge for perceived slights is quite girly in your brother’s mind, so we won’t even be disappointing him. What more invitation do we need?”

Brenna rolled her eyes and smiled. “Fine, but I want to get him, though I may need help if he cheats.”

“I feel we should get some practice before attacking.” stated Portentia, who had been perfectly quiet through most of the exchange as she watched each of us intently.

“I agree. None of us will be accustomed to our new garments or the weapons, so we’d be at a disadvantage otherwise. If the boys are just starting the movie, we have time. Reaching the house will take over an hour. Will you be able to fabricate everything by the time we arrive?” questioned Alma.

“Most everything, even if the costumes chosen are a bit elaborate. I’ll prioritize the weapons, so you can start dueling, so please select them first.” replied Mila.

“Excellent. Let’s plan for our attack to coincide with the end of whichever movie they’re watching.” she stated with a small smile.

Portentia was excited to see saberstaves when her turn to pick came.

“Are you a fan of Darth Maul?” I asked.

“Who?” she questioned.

“The horned guy who uses a saberstaff with red blades.” I told her.

“Oh! I saw a picture of him.” she replied.

“You weren’t interested in watching the prequels?” I asked.

“I haven’t seen any of them.” she stated.

“No way. Are you serious?” demanded Emma, looking shocked.

“Not everyone is into Star Wars.” stated Brenna.

“Oh, come on. You know you enjoyed the movies.” argued Emma.

“Well, yeah, but I was just saying it’s okay if she doesn’t.” insisted Brenna.

“Between the orphanage and being homeless, there wasn’t really an opportunity to see much of anything, and Mama Vera didn’t own any movies when she was alive.” explained Portentia with her eyes glued to the screen.

I noted that text of what everyone was saying appeared instantly for her. Yet another of Mila’s marvels. Emma and Brenna had gone silent and looked a little uncomfortable. I needed to find out more of Portentia’s past. I hadn’t been aware of her being homeless at some point and was more than a little curious from where she came, given her abilities.

“You’re going to love it, because Star Wars!” exclaimed Aaliyah with a huge smile.

Nodding, I said, “I really enjoyed the movies, and there are actually many interesting books as well.”

Portentia frowned as she told me “I already get distracted enough with things like this. Someone might get hurt tonight because I’m not there to save them.”

“You really can’t be everywhere, so you’re not at fault for not always being at the right place at the right time.” stated Alma.

“No. The criminals are at fault. I just can’t be negligent in stopping them, or people who could have been saved won’t be.” insisted Portentia. “Imagine how many you could save in a night.”

“There aren’t even attacks every night, and I’ve heard the crime rate has substantially been diminished thanks to your efforts.” replied Alma.

Portentia shrugged, finally choosing a black hilt with silver engravings.

One of the twins sighed while the other shook her head. The selection process took even longer for the clothing, but everything still seemed to be finished when we arrived under the garage. Despite myself, I was having fun with the dueling by the time Mila suggested we head to the theater room.

I had chosen an elegant, silver lightsaber with an engraved hilt gracefully tapering toward the bottom. The wide yet thin guard which curved from the top and spiraled down might seem pointless to most, but a material such as cortosis could allow the guard to be functional against lightsabers and blaster fire. Besides, the design reminded me of a fantastical rapier.

Alma used spells to hide us and soften everyone’s footsteps to the point I couldn’t even hear them. None of the boys seemed to notice us stepping inside to see credits rolling on the screen.

“Want to watch through the credits?” inquired James.

“Nah. No real point.” stated Brandon.

“Mind starting the next one, Mila?” asked Jarod.

Alma signaled and the lights went out.

“Mila?” asked Jarod.

We all ignited our lightsabers and prepared to do battle. The boys were in for a fight.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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iyarpage · 7 years

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RWDevCon 2017 Inspiration Talk: Finding Freedom Through Freelancing by Lyndsey Scott

Note from Ray: At our recent RWDevCon tutorial conference, in addition to hands-on tutorials, we also had a number of “inspiration talks” – non-technical talks with the goal of giving you a new idea or some battle-won advice, and leaving you excited and energized.

We recorded these talks so that you can enjoy them even if you didn’t get to attend the conference. Here’s one of the inspiration talks from RWDevCon 2017: “Finding Freedom Through Freelancing” by Lyndsey Scott. I hope you enjoy it!

Transcript

Today I’m going to talk to you all about how I found my own personal freedom through freelancing.

It’s taken ten years, but I’ve finally managed to fully pursue all the things I love. Right now I act, I model, I do iOS development. I’ll take this time to tell you all that I’ve been able to freelance my way into balancing all three.

The Background Story

A little bit about myself: I graduated from Amherst college in 2006 with a dual major in Theater and Computer Science.

Why did I choose theater and computer science? Well, even before I started college I knew that I wanted to be a theater major. I loved acting more than anything. As a second major, I explored economics, I explored physics. Then when that physics class I wanted to take was full, I decided to give computer science a try. I had no idea what it was, but I figured I’d give it a go.

I should have known what it was, though, because when I was about 12 years old I read through this huge book of documentation that came along with my TI-89 graphing calculator, and I figured out how to build games without realizing that there was a whole academic field devoted to this hobby of mine, of coding.

When I took my first computer science course in college, I had even more fun coding than I did when I was a kid. Here I was able to learn the theory behind everything, and I was able to receive grades that validated my interest.

Programming came naturally to me. I went on to learn about algorithms, artificial intelligence, robotics, lower level programming languages, compilers and more. Eventually I graduated with that dual degree in theater and computer science.

This is 12 year old me, the programmer.

Even my newfound love for programming, though, couldn’t distract me from my acting career. I moved back in with my parents in New Jersey and hopped into the freelance life right away as an actress, going back and forth from New Jersey to New York.

I made progress by booking some roles on my own, and I managed to earn my coveted Screen Actors Guild Union card by fall. When a modeling agency found my pictures online and told me that they’d have me work with both their fashion and acting divisions, I jumped at the opportunity to have my career progress.

Lights, Costumes, Fashion!

As it turns out, I actually enjoyed modeling a lot. I soon discovered that modeling was a bit like acting, putting on different costumes and transforming into different characters.

Unfortunately, there were sides of the industry that I wasn’t as fond of. First off, by signing with an agency I lost a lot of control over my career: I was no longer legally able to find jobs on my own. Yes, I had access to better opportunities now, and the opportunities paid more money, but I often felt impatient. I felt that my progress in my career was slow. And though I wasn’t naturally outgoing, I had to learn to be.

My agency had me change my entire wardrobe, change my hair, had me lying about my age and told me exactly what to say during various meetings. In all aspects of my professional life, I was now in costume playing a character and reciting a script.

I caught on well, though, and after about a year I started making enough money to move out of my parents home and into an apartment of my own in New York. Shortly after that I had my big break: I was the first African American to score an exclusive contract with Calvin Klein.

After that, other contracts followed: DKNY, Vogue, W Magazine, Prada, Gucci, Fendi, and the Victoria’s Secret show and catalog.

I was often on planes several times a week. I lived in London, in Paris, and traveled all around Europe working with my various agencies all over the world.

Success and Anxiety

Eventually I came back to New York, where even during the peak of my success I spent most of my time at home waiting for the phone to ring. I kept my schedules clear so that my agencies could call me at any moment and have me go into an office for a last minute appointment or job.

I’d settled into making a very good living for myself, being able to afford a two story penthouse apartment in New York while only working approximately three days a month at a minimum of $6,000 a day. I’d attained relative success in this industry, but I was bored and riddled with anxiety, always waiting for the next phone call and knowing that my career could fade away at any moment.

That was around the time I got my first iPhone, around 2010, 2011.

iPhones and Inspiration

Inspired by what I saw as the beauty of the interface and the elegance of the iPhone experience, I began to use my free time and my programming background to learn how to create iOS apps for myself.

After a modeling industry shakeup, my agents all left my New York agency so I had to switch to another. The bookings dried up immediately.

They suggested I go back to Europe to get some new images for my portfolio, so I did. I took their advice in an attempt to hold on to a career that I felt had little security. I lived for nearly a year in Paris and then Berlin. I managed to book several nice editorial shoots, but magazines pay little to no money.

I had enough time, and fortunately enough savings, to let myself relax into the different cultures I was around, and I would spend every available moment I had coding.

I did the raywenderlich.com tutorials. I followed tutorial series on YouTube. I’d read Apple’s documentation, and I especially learned by doing. I built out a few apps on my own.

After nearly a year of making no money, I came back to New York to find out that my agency had actually dropped me while I was away. They didn’t tell me about this at all until I got back.

The Need for More Control

Although I managed to find a new agency and the bookings did start coming back in, I realized that I needed to build a stronger foundation for myself by devoting more time working towards a career that I could control.

I started coding nonstop. I subleased my apartment. I moved back in with my parents and committed myself to publishing an app on my own.

My First App

For my first app, I decided to go with what I knew. I came up with an idea for a customizable modeling portfolio app. That fall I spent several months fueled by growing financial desperation, very little sleep, and the belief in the product I was determined to release.

By the start of that winter, the app was approved and on the app store.

I carefully designed marketing materials. I sent packages to every agency in New York. I posted advertisements on various fashion websites. I contacted the fashion press.

Despite all my efforts, there was little to no response. I’d been a very successful model a few years earlier; I’d enter a room and fashion folks would greet me, flatter me, treat me with respect. As my popularity waned and opportunities dried up, however, I was no longer as treated as important or even worthy of respect.

I was told by my agencies that my modeling career’s demise was my own fault, that I was too boring, that I was too short, that ethnic models weren’t in. My calls were often ignored, and my emails often received no response.

I had started coding again to gain some power for myself after spending years serving in an industry that often felt dismissive, so perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised that building an app to cater to those same industry folks was met with no response.

The World Takes Notice

By this point, I was very used to being rejected and ignored, so I was genuinely shocked when, by the end of that year, the wider media actually took notice of my accomplishments. Headline after headline came out: Victoria’s Secret Model Is a Programmer. I was in Forbes. I did an interview for NPR, the BBC, Good Morning America, CNN, Bloomberg TV and many, many more news outlets.

When I’m not performing I’m a pretty private person, so I decided to focus a portion of the media attention away from myself and towards the lack of diversity in tech, that same lack of diversity which made my story newsworthy in the first place, since I don’t look like the typical programmer in the media’s eyes.

I spent that year swamped with interview requests and speech requests and press opportunities. I turned down lucrative modeling jobs, seeing this PR as a more promising route to financial stability.

During all of that success, I made virtually no money. Press doesn’t pay, and I didn’t yet know how to make money from the publicity.

The Struggle for Respect

I was a very solid iOS developer at this point—I’d been coding in Objective C for several years and had released five or so apps on the app store—but very few people in the tech industry took me seriously.

For example, during one conversation I had with a successful tech founder who had no iOS development background at all, he attempted to give me a lesson on iOS background modes. He tried to explain iOS background execution and he told me that there were three new background modes. I said, “Well actually there are 9 background modes,” and I listed them one by one.

He was in shock. “Oh, you’re a real programmer.” He knew I’d been a computer science major. He knew I’d released several iOS apps, but that wasn’t enough. He still didn’t believe I was a real programmer.

You may think to yourself that sort of reaction is reasonable. It makes sense to assume that I haven’t had enough time to commit to my programming as a full-time engineer might have, but even now I’ll walk into a room of male programmers who know nothing about me. I’ll try to join their conversation and they’ll often say, “Oh you wouldn’t be interested in this. We’re just talking about programming.”

With or without my modeling background, I’m still often met with skepticism, probably because the typical programmer looks nothing like me.

Stack Overflow recently did a survey that found:

88.6% of its users are male or identify as male, while only 7.6% identify as female.

74.4% identify as white or European, while only 2.5% identify as black or of African decent.

Of all programmers, only about 23% are mobile developers.

Of that 23%, 57.6% of those polled were iOS developers.

So as a black female iOS developer, I’m a rarity.

Learning By Teaching: Becoming an Expert

I started becoming active on Stack Overflow shortly after Swift was released in 2014. I learned the new language, not by asking but by answering questions on Stack Overflow. I’d been fluent in Objective C for years, and by helping others navigate their issues with the new language I managed to become fluent in Swift as well.

Still intent on proving myself worthy of programming work, I spent a full month tethered to my computer, to the Stack Overflow iOS feed, answering question after question after question.

Much like the broader tech industry can be, Stack Overflow isn’t always the most welcoming place for women, and I was in fact faced with some sexist comments, but as my Stack Overflow reputation grew in points I became more determined; I pressed on until I became that month’s #1 iOS question answerer.

I took that screenshot and sent it over to raywenderlich.com with a description of my experience, and after taking a test was invited to join the iOS tutorial team. I desperately needed money at that time, so I saw it as both an opportunity to make some income and as a résumé builder which would hopefully lead to other opportunities.

Since then I’ve written tutorials on optical character recognition, Google Cardboard, routing and core location, I did a Fastlane update recently, and I’m about to start working on a Core Text tutorial in Swift soon (Update: you can find the Core Text tutorial here!).

Around the time I joined Ray’s team, I came up with an idea for a TV show, a tech TV show that seemed to perfectly combine my tech and entertainment experience in a way that could be monetized. Through my networking over the past year, I managed to enlist a team of producers beyond my wildest dreams: Alexis Ohanian, who’s a co-founder of Reddit, and the Emmy Award-winning producers of Shark Tank.

In order to keep an eye on the project as it was produced out of Sony studios, I took a gamble, found a place to stay on Craigslist, and moved out to LA. There, I was finally back on track with pursuing all my dreams. I started going back to acting classes. I found new acting representation, and by the time we met with networks and they passed on the show, I was still happy to be in a place where professionally I felt I had always belonged.

Becoming A Freelancer

As a member of Ray’s tutorial team, I’d signed up to receive contracting opportunities submitted to the site, and I took on one in particular.

It was a remote contract that paid relatively little money, but the designs the client had created were beautiful. I did everything in my power to make my client happy, and I made sure the app looked and functioned well enough to serve as a great portfolio piece for me.

Freelancing Tips

As a freelancer, the most valuable endeavors don’t always have immediate financial rewards. Reputation can be your most valuable asset.

Since that initial contract, I’ve found 40-hour-per-week remote freelance jobs pretty consistently over the past two years or so. Each client has recommended me to the next client, and my rate has increased gradually. I now typically work for a minimum of $125 per hour, depending on the length and complexity of the contract. I’m often the sole developer on a project, which I particularly enjoy because those apps can serve as an especially great showcase of my work.

At the start, I always choose money over equity, because although being able to receive your typical rate AND equity is ideal, most app companies fail. It’s hard to succeed in the app business. If a company can’t afford to pay you, chances are they can’t afford to market their product effectively either.

After building an initial app for a fee, I may go back and accept equity in exchange for future updates if I feel confident that the product will make money. If the app does in fact succeed, then that equity could provide an important passive income stream for me that can sustain me through the dryer periods.

When it comes to my remote contracts, I stay honest. I offer discounts. I post to GitHub often so that there’s a record of my work to account for all the hours billed. My clients like that I make suggestions and that I take initiative and that I attack each project from a design, from a user experience, and from an engineering perspective.

The best part is that even with 40 hours per week of freelance programming, my schedule is flexible. I can work night, weekends, anytime and still take acting classes, go to auditions, and pursue any acting or modeling gig that comes around.

Freelancing = the freedom of time

I now have the freedom to pursue all of my interests, along with the freedom to reject modeling, acting, or programming work that doesn’t align with my goals. If I make money doing one job, I can use the money to help advance another one of my careers. Each career has helped fuel the others.

For those of you looking to pursue freelance iOS development here are 5 things I hope you’ve taken from my story.

If opportunities aren’t coming along, build up your resume in other ways.

Stay flexible but set firm boundaries. You can keep an open mind while still working towards your goals.

Don’t get too comfortable in any one contract. Keep networking.

Keep learning. Read up on design, user experience, app store optimization, etc. If you’re a front-end developer, learn back-end development. It only makes you more financially valuable.

Make your clients happy, and remember that even though it’s not technically your app, it can serve as a great portfolio piece, and having a stellar product to show off is crucial to your resume.

I’m sure all of you have multiple passions; if not, I suggest you go out and get some. :] Technology is useless if there’s nothing to apply it to, and being able to offer your expertise in areas other than iOS development can be extremely valuable to your client.

I hope you gained a bit of insight today into how freelancing can help you gain control over your schedule and allow you the freedom and time to pursue all of your dreams. Thanks.

Note from Ray: If you enjoyed this talk, you should join us at the next RWDevCon! We’ve sold out in previous years, so don’t miss your chance.

The post RWDevCon 2017 Inspiration Talk: Finding Freedom Through Freelancing by Lyndsey Scott appeared first on Ray Wenderlich.

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