#especially if they have multiple syllables. He can get stuck on them sometimes

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Poll has to focus to not talk at mach speed

Tequilla has to focus to not talk super slowly

neither of them are bothered by the other's vocal quirks because they always compensate for the other

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 5

“She broke up with me.”

> genre : Angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 4k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity; jjk heartbroken & crying; some wholesome flashbacks to make you swoon

previous - next

The next box arrives about a month or so later. You haven’t seen Jungkook in a while. He had been out of town, hopping from shop to shop, completing a series of long-awaited guest positions. 

He’s kept you up with his days and his appointments as much as he could, sending you dorky selfies, little videos of city landscapes you’ve never seen before, and exhausted late vocal notes made in tiny, with dragged on, mumbled words, to wish you luck and send you some courage for work. 

You did not expect that the day you’ll meet again, he’d be so different from the Jungkook you prefer and left a month ago.

It takes you a few seconds to realize. At first, you’re preoccupied with the sudden set of needles stinging your insides when you hear the peculiar sound of your front door being unlocked. There’s a very finite amount of probability that it’s not him, he's the rudest of your tiny group of friends and the only one that feels comfortable enough in your home to invite himself without any prior warning.

It’s him, your best friend and subject of too many of your both daily and nightly thoughts and preoccupations.

Once he appears in the door frame, with his heavy coat on his heavy XXL sweatshirt, in his heavy military pants, face turned down hidden by his hair, the magic thing, that grows so mysteriously quick. There’s the little explosion of warmth in your chest. The one that makes you smile tenderly without meaning to. He’s allowed to see how happy he makes you, as a friend anyway. Everybody smiles this way when he walks into a room.

Your eyes catch sight of a box, all white, that fits in his hand. Your eyes roll on reflex. You’re about to curse again. It’s not nice, you don’t want to, to attack him as soon as he returns to you but he’s asking for it, isn't he?

He’s still in the hallway, slowly slipping his shoes off, focus fixed on the present in his hand. The time he takes doing it and the seemingly seriousness you feel irradiating from his aura, confuse you.

Jungkook shakes his head twice, the way he does, kind of like a wet puppy would, before setting the box on the counter of your open kitchen.

It’s only when he starts walking towards you, that his head raises up, just a bit, enough for his eyes to meet yours through his hair. He has a tiny smile as a greeting. He looks really upset. 

He should be bouncing on the balls of his feet, he should be doing some TikTok cringe dance moves to make you laugh or yell some greetings in a dialect. He has a lot of peculiar, very Jungkook ways to celebrate meeting you again after a while. Even if neither of you has ever said the words, you do miss each other a lot when you can’t see each other, and the excitement that blooms during your reunions translates that. 

But he’s sad today. It’s obvious. 

When he takes a seat beside you on the couch, he avoids your gaze. You’re agape, watching him with probably too much insistence, a hand holding a spoon half-filled with yoghurt in the air.

These few moments are decisive. They’ll determine rather he’ll talk or not. Jungkook, for someone who cries easily, is not good with feelings and sharing them aloud. Sometimes he can, often he can’t. He’s told you not to worry about it before, that it was fine because sometimes he just didn’t need to, he just wanted a shoulder to lay his head-on. 

“You okay, Guk?”

He shrugs. You just have the time to catch his upper lip sucked in, a twinkle in his eye before he’s switching position, bumping into you and hitting his own shin against the coffee table like a giant dog, unaware of his own growth, would. Only to settle for an impressively tiny huddle against your side, cheek pressed to your shoulder. 

So that’s how it’ll be. 

It’s heartbreaking, torturesome. You always feel miserable when you know he’s sad but not knowing the reason makes it a thousand times worse. You might be the same vengeful kid you used to be. The one who’ll inquire straight away who made him cry and immediately went on her way to beat that reason up -it being another child or the troll of a tree that made him trip. 

Except you are grown-ups now. He knows he can deal with his problems on his own and he would probably not let you go and try to beat up everyone -he probably doesn’t believe you can too, even though he’d be wrong about that. 

Jungkook tears his hand out of his pocket only to mime you to turn up the volume of the television. You do so and the pretty hand is gone and if it wasn’t for his quiet sniffling and the heavy press on your side, you wouldn’t know he’s really here with you at all. 

Your heart hurts the whole duration of the shitty afternoon movie, even if having his warmth next to you helps a little. He leaves later the way he entered, mostly silently, only smiling a bit when you smooch the side of his head and squeeze his forearm in a wordless comforting effort.

Guk

Sorry for earlier

Guk

It was nice seeing you though

You

Don’t be sorry. Can you call?

Guk

Yes, in 5

The five minutes turn out to be twenty. You wonder, hoping to be wrong, how numerous those tears were that he needed twenty minutes to dry them. 

When he finally calls, voice quiet and throat dry, whispering through the phone straight in your ear, uneasiness settles deep and heavy in your stomach as you know, you were right. 

“What happened, Jungkook?”

He must not have heard you this soft and gentle for a while because you can hear a humourless chuckle you recognize as incredulity. He clears his throat a first time, inhales deep and has to clear it a second time before he can start, still choking out on a syllable or two. 

“She broke up with me.”

The gasp that escapes you, loud and obnoxious, could not have been faked. This news is hardly believable to you. First of all, because, to your greatest guilty despair, Jungkook and his girlfriend, who’ve been dating for almost a year, are probably the embodiment of The Power Couple. There’s no doubt, in all the people that know them, that they are meant to be. They look good together. They are on the same page, always, it seems. They’re beautiful and enviable, an example of a match from Heaven, healthy and aesthetic if that's even a mentionable point.

You can’t, even in your deepest, darkest fantasies, have imagined them to break up. 

But the thing that makes it all the harder to comprehend is that she is the one who did it. The girl is great. She’s beautiful, she’s smart and funny, so you heard. She has that glamour to her, with her dainty pretty milky hands and long thin milky neck, with her silky, shiny black locks wondrously floating over her shoulders. She is great, matches him well.

She is not that far behind him but she's still not Jeon-Jungkook-great.

How could she have broken up with him? Someone dumping him makes no sense to you. 

“That’s-“ You catch yourself before the words slip out clumsily. You’ve never really been talented at comforting people with words, especially a crying Jungkook which is the equivalent of your very own kryptonite. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook.” And you mean it. Even more so when you hear him snivel hard. You’ve never allowed yourself to, even just for yourself, in the quiet and discreet comfort of your own head, wish for that to happen. Because if there’s one thing that you want more than anything else, more than having him for yourself, more than your own fulfilment, it’s his happiness. And he was happy with Jiyeun. He’s got the girl he had a crush on for months and they went so well together. “But why? Did she give you a reason?”

You hate how eager you sound asking. The question is so pressing though. You wish to know so bad why, in what circumstances, Jeon Jungkook gets dumped. 

“She-“ There’s a sob he swallows back. “I know what you’ll say,” Your eyebrows dip low on reflex. You couldn’t imagine the reason. He must have really fucked up but Jungkook is not the kind to fuck up. Even when he’s annoying, even when his mindset on something turns a bit auto-centric, he’s too compassionate, he’s too considerate and loving, to suddenly stop wondering how the person facing him is feeling and act without care, hurt them, in any way. It’s just not his kind. So what did he do that even you’ll have a word to say about it. “Spare me because she’s done enough.” 

It takes another set of minutes for him to gather himself, find most of his voice back clear enough for you to decipher. You show yourself patient, not saying anything and leaving him all the time that he needs. In all honesty, in the darkness of your curtain closed bedroom, tucked comfortably in your mountain of pillows and blankets, with your phone stuck to your ear and just the quiet sound of his breathing and humming to himself to break the silence, but rock it rather than disturb it, it’s easy to be patient. Feels like an ASMR. A class A type of ASMR, his breathing to your ear could so easily lead you to sleep. 

“Yesterday, she came to welcome me back and-“ Rather than hurt, his tone sounds weakened by shame now. What the hell did he do? “She found the- the thing I brought for you today.”

The fucking idiot.

“Oh my God.” You feel instant nausea. It's not like you never thought about it. You wondered, multiple times, if she was aware that her boyfriend was buying you these. You never allowed dipping far in the questioning because what would be the point? Ultimately, it's his relationship. And it's his way of shaping your friendship. If she kept smiling pleasantly, asking politely, as she always would, how you're doing whenever you happened to cross her path, leaving his apartment, or visiting his shop, it was fine by you. It must have been fine by her. She might have known about it, or she might not, didn't really matter. Jeon Jungkook is a grown-ass man, who's allowed to make his own decisions, no matter if they make sense to you, or her, or whoever.

But he's a fucking idiot.

If she didn't know, if he didn't warn her, and now she's mad after learning about it, and he's surprised and he's sad then he's a fucking idiot.

“She asked if it was for her, I wasn’t gonna lie!” Fantastic. He's passed the shock, soaked in wrath now. That was quick.

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook!"

"What?" He sounds a bit hysterical on the phone, voice rough and angry, incredulous, even mad that you might suggest he's wrong. Obviously, he already knew you'd react this way, hence the primary warning. "You're my best friend. I get to gift you whatever the fuck I want." He whisper-yells, suddenly very much aware again of the late time and the quiet calmness he'd perturbed. "She-"

"I don't think that's the issue, is it? Did she- Did you tell her that- Like, nothing was up?" You don't know how to articulate what you mean to ask. It sounds so bizarre, so irrealistic, the idea of something romantic or sexual going on between you two. It sounds so ludicrous you can't even say it. And again, you're scared to say the words. You don't know how they'll sound leaving your mouth. Suspicious, maybe revealing.

You owe to ask the question though. Because the cause of the sudden nausea comes from one surprisingly major reason, you would hate for her to hate you. To think of you as the bad guy, the massive bitch who stole her boyfriend. It shouldn't matter but it does.

"What do you mean?"

"That it was just friendly. Did you say that to her?" You stutter, largely on edge.

"Of course, I did." He doesn't seem to notice. Or to pay attention to the, evident to your ear, change in your tone. "She said that it didn't matter." You bite your tongue, along with the couple of words threatening to slide off it. Quite frankly, Jungkook is a weirdo with his own intake on the world surrounding him, she chose to date that special, in a lot of different ways, one, however, you can fairly understand that she wouldn't accept any explanation, of any kind, for this situation. "Do you get that? If she thought I was cheating, I'd understand that she'd be mad but- it's not even the case!"

You try to focus on the essence of the conversation, annihilate the faint words you can read in between the lines. The ones that say that even his girlfriend, in those strange circumstances, couldn't imagine the two of you as more than friends. Just as he couldn't. Just as you can't either.

"She knows and she's still mad. But- I do- I was just curious about it."

"About what?"

"The toys." He pouts, barely articulate like the kid he really is.

"Why didn't you get them for her, then? She's your girlfriend."

There's a pause after your words coming from him.

"She hates those." The pout sounds so thick now, in between the sniffs, you wonder if his mouth won't stay stuck in this position, like a cute permanent raspberry on his cute little dumb face. "I did once and she- threw it in my face and called me a freak."

"Jungkook." You sigh. "That explains a lot, by the way." This comment might be mainly for yourself. He doesn't need an explanation, as it seems. He doesn't seem that troubled about the whole deal, about that new hobby he's picked for himself. But you did. It's hard to simply content yourself with a "well, it is what it is" and nothing more.

He's been curious about them, couldn't buy them for Jiyeun because she wouldn't use them and make him feel guilty about his interest. He's sort of living it by procuration this way.

Now you feel guilty. He can't have found much satisfaction from your reviews if you ever have given him any. And she called him a freak. What a bitch. You wouldn't have imagined that coming from her.

Your mind is a mess.

"And it makes you happy. I see the way-" You hear the friction of tissues, the squeaking of his bed, and the deep sigh that follows when, as you picture, he finds a comfortable position on his back. "You seem much better. Less stressed and-" You cannot deny that. Even though it's partially frustrating, to think that he has this very unpleasant picture of you, of the version of you preceding the very first orgasm brought by him - sort of. You are feeling considerably better. Even if you have to force yourself not to abuse the masturbatory habits, not wishing to turn into a jerk off crazed teen like you once was when your hormones were fucking you up, it helps a lot. Sometimes it's a late-night quickie, other times a longer seance to celebrate the start of the weekend, or find force for the beginning of a new week.

"What was that again? Youthful?" You wonder aloud, an annoyingly amused smile on your face.

"Rejuvenated." He's laughing a bit. And for that, all the turmoil he's been putting you through feels fine and worth it. When you think about the heartbreaking tone of his voice when you first heard it through the phone, it eases an incredibly heavyweight to your heart, enchants you to know that he can still laugh, and you can still be the one reminding him how to. Unfortunately, his heart's just recalled how to hurt and the ache is back as quick as it pretended to leave an instant ago. "She said to never call her again." He confides with a hearable sorrow.

"She didn't mean it." It's surprisingly easy to be a good friend to him. The words you know he needs to hear not even hurting that bad.

"I don't know. We never fought like that before."

"Of course, you didn't. But it's been a year, it ought to happen at some point."

"But if she won't even let me talk to her, how am I supposed to make it better?"

"Be patient and leave her time to cool down." He sighs, already defeated. "Maybe send her a vocal note, she'll listen when she's ready.” They're awfully nice when he sends some to you. “It'll be fine." You're made to be together, probably, you should add. You could add, it might help him immensely, to dry the tears you can picture filling up his eyes. It's a little too much though. You're not that strong of a masochist to force this on you.

"How do you know that?"

"I just do. Don't worry too much." He can't. His heavy silence precisely screams that. "Do you wanna come to my island? I'll let you run in my flowers if you want."

It makes him laugh once again. The lovely, most satisfying sound to your ear.

"That's sweet of you." And it is, extremely sweet of you. If there's one thing that you despise is him sprinting through the mindfully planted flower beds of your Animal Crossing island. It pisses you off. Even more so when he does it by accident than on purpose, because this shit happens way too often. And now, you're allowing him to do so. You're definitely too good at being his friend. "It's fine though. Turnips sell at 138 on mine if you're interested."

It's your turn to be laughing now. You love how even with his heartbroken, upset and crying, he still picks up his Switch to check where's the turnips' stock at.

"Jungkook." I adore you.

You have for seemingly ever. Since the very first time you met.

You'd never forget it. How you almost passed out from laughing because of the street sign that nearly knocked him unconscious. His forehead was already bruising dark, eyes unfocused and shiny with tears. You didn't mean to laugh but he was adorable and funny, and even if you felt guilty for enjoying it, people don't run their faces into street signs every day. You called it in your own head a miracle.

He had to sit for a little while from how dizzy he felt. His ears were burning with embarrassment too, your uncontrollable giggling not helping. He just sat there, on a bench you had dragged him to, hands tucked in the pocket of his sweatshirt, waiting for you to allow him to leave.

The kid stood unbalanced the four times he tried to walk and even if at eleven, you had nothing close to a doctoral degree, you still felt like it was wrong to just let him stumble his way back home straight away. You had to hold him hostage for a little while. You had shared your homemade cookies with him, the ones you hid deep in your bag for you didn't want anyone to ask for a bite at school. You made him drink the whole content of your water bottle because drinking water is never an unhealthy thing to do, therefore, it felt like a good idea.

He was so shy that your own timidness quieted down enough to allow you to make conversation to him. Or more accurately talk over the silence and distract him. He giggled a lot and smiled with cute bunny teeth. Kept saying thank you for every bit of cookies you'd given him and once you had walked him home and he arrived safe and sound, he bowed very low, apologized and thanked you again.

You thought it'd be the end of it. He pretended to be going to the same school as you but you had never seen him also he was a few years younger.

The next day, and every single day after that, at recess, he would appear out of nowhere. Wearing his adorable smile, and a tint of red on his ears, a bunch of homemade cookies of his own filling up his pockets. As a puppy would, he'd follow you around with a certain distance until you waved him over, rolling your eyes, because if he was going to stick by your side, he might as well actually play with you.

The most precious friendship you have ever experienced bloomed from this seed. A friendship, at the start, mainly based on a shared interest for very sugary treats, marbles, and that common memory of him eating shit in this street sign. You didn't mean to remind him, it made him flush furiously each time and you were not that cruel, but you couldn't help bursting out in laughter whenever you'd walk home -with him or alone- and pass that sign. It's your favourite spot in your home town. You never miss an occasion to take a selfie for him whenever you go to visit your parents.

It's hard to define the moment your feelings, once purely platonic, changed. But there's a memory that feels notably significant.

A guy made you fall. A useless asshole, who in retrospect was not even worth a single crumble of your time. You were confused. As you often get, without really knowing why. Maybe it's just you, maybe it's for everyone the same. People start by being too good in your eyes, too good for you not to give them your all, and maybe build pyramides upon pyramides of expectations.

Until they're not anymore.

Suddenly, they hurt your feelings. They suck ass and you felt so invested emotionally, way too invested for it to be any kind of healthy, and their very human selves harm you straight in the heart, where it is the most painful.

It didn't feel like a mistake this time. Like any of the other times, at the beginning, of course, otherwise, it wouldn't catch you again and again.

You fell hard and it's Jungkook who picked you up. He had cooked for you, one of his mother's infamous recipes because he knew you wouldn't even bother eating otherwise. He had held you close. He had kissed the top of your head, your cheeks and your eyelids when a diehard tear had slipped. He had called you baby and sunshine and his little kitten. Had showered you in an unfamiliar type of loving. Something so soft, so tender and warm. Hands firm when they'd wrapped around you and pulled you in. Fingers gentle when they'd brush the hair out of your face. He took care of you, made you feel good in ways no one has ever had. You had not known him to be like that. Suddenly, he really felt like a man when he touched you, when he talked to you. He wasn't only a dorky little overgrown baby anymore. He was a man, shaped like one but also able to act like one. Able to take care of a woman, please one you were sure of it. And suddenly, you wanted, so desperately, to be that woman. To have the same free access you had on his usual candid-self, on this newly met man.

Of course, it's too ludicrous for you to ever act on it. But deep down, a naive tiny voice kept claiming, in the back of your mind, that you could spoil him. Very few people in this world know him the way you do, surely, no one can please him the way you could.

Guk

She listened to my note!!!

Guk

She said she'll make me miss her a bit more and then she'll call

It took less than a day for her to give him a sign. You're not surprised. It's hard not to miss him. You're not surprised but somehow, still, disappointed.

A/N: tadam!! i needed to include some flashbacks because i know my fellow f2l addicts just adore these, also, i just can’t get over writing kookie as a cute kid.

Guess what guys? there is only one chapter to go *sweats profusely* I- am worried. I hope you keep enjoying it and will enjoy the rest. :] For now, let me know your thoughts. I hope you have a sweet, lazy Sunday and wish you a lovely, peacful week! bises!

As always please ask to be tagged for the final chapter on this post

[ashintheairlikesnow]

“ It’s Dylan who finally figures out it wasn’t a cult” can we get this as a Drabble? If not it’s fine but 🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️

CW: Referenced ableist language, referenced past head banging (brief), shitty language about the pet industry in a box boy setting

“Your stance on the human pet industry is pretty clear, obviously-”

“Obviously.” Nicole Berras’s voice is deep and slightly husky as she pats the thigh of the smiling, slightly blank-faced man who sits next to her on the plush red couch. 

Dylan has had a lot of nights he’s thought about the way it would feel to have the movie star’s voice against his ear like that. I mean, he feels pretty fucking ridiculous afterward, but once he’d seen her in that Marvel movie that was fucking it for him, slam-dunk, celebrity crush slot taken by one Nicole Berras, she of the wide, slightly almond eyes and soft lips worn over a black leather catsuit.

Even if the one time he’d tried to show Chris the movie (one more thing Chris hadn’t known about, and how do you not know about the biggest fucking franchise in movie fucking history, that cult must have been boring as shit), Chris had done nothing but bitch about how there’s no way Nicole Berras could do actual backflips like her character does in heels like that.

Of course not, weirdo, she has a stunt double for that. He’d thrown popcorn at Chris, who had caught it and grinned before popping it in his mouth.

Yeah, well. They, they, they-they-they still should have put her in-... in some, like, regular shoes or, or, or or or something. Chris had wiggled his toes under the blanket they were sharing. Or barefoot even would have, um, would-would... would be more realistic.

Nobody’s going to be barefoot in a leather catsuit, Chris.

Then why make, make her wear the the the-the catsuit?

... Chris, I swear to God-

That catsuit factors pretty fucking heavily into Dylan’s thoughts, too. In the interview, though, she’s just wearing like a regular white shirt and pants and even that looks amazing on her. Everything looks fucking amazing on Nikki Berras. 

Dylan checks his phone - an hour before Chris comes back so they can head to the dining hall together, which means an hour to daydream and watch Nikki’s mouth move.

“There’s a lot of Oscar buzz already surrounding your upcoming film, with celebrities as well-known as Vincent Shield speaking out and saying it ‘romanticizes a dangerous, damaging industry’. Do you have any comment or response to him on that?”

Nikki gives a brief, sweet smile. Dylan’s eyes, though, keep glancing over to the man sitting next to her, her pet. His name’s Yen or something, celebrities always give their pets ridiculous stupid names. Dylan wasn’t paying attention - the whole pet thing is kind of uneasy to think too much about, so he mostly doesn’t. Yen-or-Whatever is just... smiling away.

He looks fucking brainless.

“Vince and I have been in this industry a long time together,” Nikki says with a laugh. “And he’s always been kind of down on the industry, as long as I’ve known him. He’s of course welcome to speak his feelings, but I felt like there’s a lot of negative press out there about the system, and that really erases people like Yen-”

Oh, his name really is Yen. Yikes.

“-who are happy with the choice they made, well cared for, and just... you know, Yen and I talk about this a lot.”

“We do,” Yen says, and gives her a slight sidelong glance with a smile. 

“And we just... wanted to provide a little more of a balanced perspective. You mostly hear about the liberation movement now-”

“Yes, Shield produced a documentary two years ago that was very pro-liberation that received a lot of critical acclaim, as I recall. Is there a reason you chose a fictional feature film as opposed to an answering documentary?”

“Well, I am an actress.” Nikki flashes her impish little grin, but Dylan misses it. He’s stuck watching Yen, who is watching Nikki with perfect focus, sitting incredibly still. Like a statue next to her, with his head slightly tilted, chin down, looking up at her through his eyelashes even though he’s taller than she is.

Who has he seen look like that before?

Weird fucking deja vu has the hairs on Dylan’s arms standing up on end. 

“Feature films are really my wheelhouse, and I felt more comfortable working with a story that gave me a little more room to work multiple narratives into a single film. And Yen was so helpful, he really enjoyed getting to work with me on setting up the plot beats.”

“Right. So in the story, your character goes through the process of training after some serious life hardships, and things really kick off during that process. Can you tell us anything else about the story?”

“I can’t give too much away, Anderson,” Nikki says, laughing, leaning slightly forward. Dylan is still staring at Yen, whose eyes follow Nikki, whose empty little smile never so much as twitches, never fades. “But I can say... Yen helped me a lot with information on the training process! He was originally a demo pet with WRU so he had tons of inside information. The love interest-”

“Ah, right, played by... let’s see, played by Camden Oaks-”

“Right, Camden plays my love interest in the story - and Cam’s a big old sweetie, isn’t he, Yen?”

“Yes, he is,” Yen says automatically, almost before she’s even finished the sentence. 

“My love interest is actually a handler at WRU, so they meet early on but it’s not until much later that you see how that initial meeting really impacts my character’s story. Honestly, I’m really honored that WRU agreed to give me so much access to their methods! It was really great of them, and Yen came with me on every visit.”

Yen’s smile freezes, just slightly, but Dylan’s still looking right at him and catches the first flicker of a very different emotion on the man’s face. Even that seems familiar, the way that Yen’s hands twitch, just a little, and then he is very, very still. 

“Yen coached me quite a bit.” Nikki’s smile is all perfect straight white teeth. “Especially on dialogue, and how to get the expression just right. And all the work they do! Apparently Yen came with a pretty bad stutter, and one thing that they do is really give the pets individualized therapy that hits on their unique concerns to help them before they end up with an owner. So, like, Yen came with a bad stutter! So they really worked on that with him.”

Yen nods, slowly. “Silence is better than stammering.” His voice is perfect and even, doesn’t tremble in the slightest, has a hint of rote memorization that flattens the syllables and bleeds out all emotion.

Dylan jerks forward and rewinds a few seconds, then plays it again.

Yen, head cocked slightly to the side, giving a nervous, eager-to-please little smile. “Silence is better than stammering.”

Dylan’s breath catches somewhere in his throat, eyes widening.

Again.

“Silence is better than stammering.”

Again.

“Silence is better than-”

The barcode is visible on Yen’s left wrist, when Nikki pats his arm and he shifts a little, but if someone took that barcode off it’d leave a scar in the exact size and shape of the scarring Chris has.

The empty look in his eyes, like Chris gets sometimes if you yell at him or get into his personal space too fast. The hint of a slight smile, one that screams that he needs someone to tell him if he’s doing it right.

Silence is better than stammering. Chris had said that, when he was in the stairwell, rocking, hitting his head on the wall with tears running down his face, hiding behind his hands. Those exact. fucking. words.

Silence is better than stammering, stillness is better than what I do, silence is better than stammering-

“Holy fuck,” Dylan whispers out loud. “It wasn’t a cult. Oh shit. Oh fuck, shit, oh holy fuck he wasn’t in a cult.”

He’s going to be sick. He’s going to be so sick all over his fucking blankets.

“Chris was a fucking pet.”

His phone buzzes and he glances at it, feeling a wash of ice-cold fear straight down his spine when he sees the message. Chris’s class let out early and he’s on his way back, does Dylan want dinner early?

Chris isn’t even a fucking person. But he is, he’s definitely a person, he’s one hundred percent a person. But he’s not. But he is, but he’s a runaway, his name probably isn’t Chris, oh... oh fuck.

He really, really wishes it had been a cult.

Dylan swallows, hard.

What the fuck does he do now?

[publiusvirgilius]

A Hard Day’s Night

Beatles-inspired Hotchfic: Your boyfriend Aaron Hotchner is tired after a long trip, but exhaustion goes out the window when he sees you.

Author's Note: I wrote this in a day! This is my first time publishing a fanfic so please be nice, but I also welcome criticism and feedback. I have a longer, plot-driven Spencer Reid story in the works if any of y'all would be interested—I promise it's less dirty than this one :) If I do post it, it would be on Wattpad, same username. Also happy to take requests! Receiving writing prompts is always fun and keeps the creative juices flowing, so please message me for any requests or just to say hi.

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

warnings: mention of statutory rape (unsub), smut (hotch), biting

word count: 2.6K

This had been one of the longest cases the BAU had seen in a long time. There had been multiple kidnappings in a small town all within a week, and just when the team thought they had apprehended the unsub, a teenager had been abducted, leading them to change the profile.

The townsfolk weren't helping, either. One would think that a small town would come together in a time of crisis, but parents were blaming each other, the teenagers were getting into trouble, trying to escape the grief of their younger siblings' disappearances through drugs and alcohol, and the local police was beginning to question the FBI's methods and abilities.

After two weeks of chasing the unsub around, the team finally caught him. The person responsible for the kidnappings had turned out to be the sheriff himself, working with a seventeen year old girl. They claimed to be in love, and their crimes had been fueled by the desire to have children of their own, which had been impossible, for statutory rape aside, the sheriff was over fifty years old and impotent.

All in all, it had been a frustrating case, and the team was more than ready to go home as soon as it was over. They arrested the couple and got them to confess just within a couple hours of figuring out that they were the ones responsible, but by the time they finished, it was past 11 p.m.

The agents all agreed that they would rather fly back home now than wait until the morning, eager to leave the small town.

This is how Aaron Hotchner found himself as the only conscious individual on the jet back home. He had always had trouble falling asleep on planes—unlike his agents, who, as soon as they boarded the craft, each found their own corner of the jet and promptly dozed off.

Aaron checked his watch. 11:45. Y/N was bound to be asleep by now. Aaron's girlfriend woke up early for work every day, and since today was Sunday, she would definitely have turned in early to prepare for work tomorrow.

Still, she had made him promise to call her when he was on his way home, especially after a case this long.

Aaron settled for a text, not wanting to wake her, even though he ached to hear her voice. He smiled as he opened up his phone to the last texts they had sent each other:

Y/N: "I miss you <3 Come home soon xx"

Aaron: "I miss you too. Say hi to Jack for me."

The last message had been a photo Y/N had sent of her and Jack snuggled up on the couch on Saturday night, his son fast asleep as a movie played in the background.

If any of his colleagues had been awake, they would have teased him about the wide grin on his face looking down at his phone. Aaron rarely let his team see his emotions, but ever since he and Y/N started dating a year ago, he found himself smiling more often. And when he had asked Y/N to move in with him a month ago and she had said yes, even the people outside of his department had noticed a difference in his mood.

The thought of Y/N erased all of the gruesome images and dark thoughts that came with the job at the BAU from Aaron's mind. And unlike a year ago, when he would spend the flight home thinking about how a case could have gone differently—which of his decisions had led to more deaths and what decisions would have prevented them, and what his job meant about the state of humanity as a whole—now, all he thought about was who he got to go home to at the end of the day.

Aaron opened up the picture of Y/N one more time, smiling at her sleepy eyes in the dim living room and the way she was holding Jack close to her chest, before typing out a text to let her know that he was coming home.

Aaron: "I'm on my way home. Should arrive by 2 a.m. but I hope you're asleep when you get this."

During the last two weeks, the time difference had made it difficult for Aaron and Y/N to find time to talk, especially since during a case, the workdays tended to end late, but Y/N had insisted on calling him each night before he went to bed.

Just tonight, Aaron hoped to relieve Y/N of a late-night call, and when she didn't text back, he breathed a content sigh. In his mind, the perfect welcome home would be cozying up next to his girlfriend in their warm bed and holding her close as she slept.

What Aaron didn't know was that Y/N was still awake. In fact, she had never gone to bed. She had put Jack to bed around 8:30 p.m., but then, she came back downstairs and set out to get ahead on this week's work with a cup of caffeinated tea as she waited up for Aaron.

As soon as the jet touched down in D.C., the team hurried to get out, eager to get home. Sometimes the BAU would go out for celebratory drinks after a case, but this time, everyone was too worn out to do anything but to go home.

"Thanks for your hard work the past two weeks," Aaron said to the team. "I know it was a long case."

"Can we please have tomorrow off?" Emily half-joked.

"You're welcome to take any of your designated sick days, Prentiss," Aaron said with a small smile.

Emily scoffed at his remark as the rest of the team snickered.

"Don't even think about calling us before 10 a.m., JJ," Derek said.

"Go home and get some rest," Aaron said. "From what I recall, a certain amount of paperwork follows a complicated case, and like it or not, tomorrow is Monday."

By the time Aaron pulled into his driveway, it was 2:30 a.m. When he got out of the car, he felt the weary effects of having been awake for eighteen hours. As he walked up to the door, Aaron started slightly when he saw that the light in the kitchen was on.

Y/N probably forgot to turn out the lights, he thought.

But he was wrong. When he stepped through the door, his weariness instantly dissipated. His briefcase dropped from his hand with a heavy thud.

Y/N was seated at the kitchen counter, clad only in one of his undershirts and a pair of thin pajama shorts, her hair in a messy bun atop her head, her large glasses balanced over her delicate nose, chewing on the tip of her pen as she pored over an array of papers. To Aaron, it was a sight for sore eyes.

"What are you doing up?" Aaron asked dumbly.

"You thought I wouldn't want to see you as soon as you got home? After I haven't seen you for two weeks?" Y/N hopped down from her seat and padded across the wooden floors to her boyfriend. "Let's get you to bed, baby. You must be exhausted," she said, loosening Aaron's tie and pushing his jacket off of his shoulders.

When she touched him, it was as if she had switched on a circuit, blowing out all the resistors and capacitors. Aaron's senses caught on fire, and he burned for her touch.

"I think you've got it wrong, Y/N," Aaron said, his eyes darkening. "I will take you to bed, and I want to see you naked and coming for me as soon as possible."

Before Y/N could retort, Aaron had her thrown over his shoulder and was heading for the bedroom.

Once Aaron had her laid out on the bed, he started to remove her flimsy clothes. "I missed you. So. Much." He bit out each clipped syllable, biting and sucking behind her ear, on her neck, and on her collarbone between each utterance.

Y/N gasped, trying to catch her breath. "Jack's asleep," she whispered.

"That's none of my concern, since my mouth is going to be occupied with something else. But I suppose you'll just have to do your best to be quiet," he said.

Aaron continued kissing and licking down her chest, pausing at her breasts to tease each little pink bud with his tongue. When he reached the junction of her hips, he bit down lightly on her hipbone, causing her to cry out until she quickly bit down on her fist to quiet herself.

"Good girl." Aaron looked up at Y/N and planted a kiss near her bellybutton, his tongue briefly flicking against the hot skin. He licked across the insides of her thighs, then softly blew cool air onto them as he ran his hands up her legs, making her shiver.

When his mouth finally landed on her clit, he lapped her up like a man starved. "You're so fucking wet," he growled. "Did you miss me while I was gone? Did you touch yourself thinking about me?"

Y/N struggled to nod as her body trembled.

Aaron sucked hard on her clit as he pushed two fingers inside her, dragging them against the pebbled surface of the top. Y/N covered her face with both of her hands, trying to hold back the sounds escaping her throat.

"I want you to look at me." Aaron pulled her hands away from her face with his free hand. He stuck his thumb inside her mouth, encouraging her to suck. Y/N looked down at her boyfriend's figure, and she nearly came at the sight of him alone.

Aaron's dark, cropped hair fell over his forehead, damp with sweat. He was still in his shirt and trousers, though he had managed to roll up his sleeves, and his tie still sat loosely around his collar, its length thrown back over his shoulder as if he couldn't get to his feast fast enough.

He continued to work at her clit, his tongue flicking back and forth faster and harder as he felt Y/N's body twitch more and more out of control. When his mouth reached a near impossible rhythm, Y/N clenched her jaw, biting down on Aaron's fingers in her mouth as her body writhed, falling over and over again into an orgasmic high.

Aaron pressed a kiss to her sensitive core, then to the inside of her thighs. Running his hands up her torso, he pulled her up into a sitting position in front of him, her legs still spread wide on either side of him, and he allowed her to lean forward against his chest, against the soft cotton material of his shirt, too spent to hold up her own weight.

Y/N kissed him slowly, his mouth hot from her own heat. She took his face in her hands, feeling the light stubble across his jaw. She pulled back, taking a moment to observe his eyes. Whatever weariness had been there before, it was gone, replaced with a ravenous hunger that drank in her flushed skin and her dark, swollen lips. Y/N's pupils were blown wide with arousal, her hair had come apart, the wayward strands framing her face, and her glasses were askew, just barely balancing on the tip of her nose.

Aaron had never seen a prettier sight. He felt like a soldier come home to see his wife after years of war, like Odysseus returned to his wife Penelope after ten long years. Wait a second... Wife? Where did that come from?

Aaron reached out to pull off Y/N's glasses from her face, then tipped up her chin to catch her lips again with his own.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

Y/N finally pulled his tie loose, tossing it off to the side of the bed, and she carefully unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers moving nimbly but gently. Aaron tended to come back from his cases with bruises and scratches that always made Y/N's heart ache to see, but at the same time, it filled her with pride, not to mention turned her on, to know that her boyfriend was out saving the world, one bad guy at a time.

This time, Aaron had been spared any major or minor injuries, but still, Y/N took her time undressing him, kissing the old scars as she went.

Once she had stripped him bare, Aaron took her hands in his and pressed a deep kiss to her lips once again. Y/N reached down to take his stiff cock in her hands, but Aaron shook his head and pushed her back down onto the bed.

"I want to feel you," he said. "Now." He lay down beside her so that they faced each other, and he fingered her clit between them, making her arch into him. Aaron hissed when she grabbed his ass, digging her nails into the firm flesh, making him jerk his hips involuntarily.

He pushed the head of his cock into her tight core, and Y/N held her breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt his familiar form meld into her, a feeling she hadn't felt in weeks. A feeling she couldn't imagine how she could have gone without for this long.

"Open your eyes, Y/N," Aaron said in a breathy tone.

Y/N locked eyes with Aaron for only half a second before capturing his lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue and hunger and longing. Pulling his body closer to her so that no space remained between them, Y/N buried her face in his neck, biting at the sensitive skin, then biting down on his shoulder especially hard when he hit a certain spot inside her.

Aaron wrapped one of her legs around himself to access her body at a better angle, and he felt her muffled moans vibrating against his shoulder. Fisting his hand in her hair and gripping her hip with his other hand, he increased the intensity of his thrusts until he was nearly falling over the edge, a jumbled string of curses leaving his mouth.

Y/N arched into him, her hardened nipples to sliding against his chest through the thin layer of sweat that mingled across their bodies, and her own hips started, her leg locking his body against hers  in a vice-like grip, tumbling once again over the edge, moaning Aaron's name against his skin over and over.

Aaron groaned his own release, pulling Y/N’s head back by her hair so that he could look at her face as she came apart, falling into pleasure and more in love with this girl whose lips were still muttering his name as she came down from her high.

"Aaron," she said between labored breaths. "Don't you ever leave me again. I don't want to spend another night without you."

Holding her in his arms, his eyes sweeping over her angelic face, Aaron would have given her the world if he could, and still, it wouldn't be close to what she deserved. He placed a kiss on her forehead and murmured empty promises against her skin, both knowing that eventually, he would leave, but also knowing that he would always come back, and that she would always be his waiting home.

[livayl]

A sneezy OC introduction

Until now I somehow forgot about this- but I thought it would be nice to write a bit about each of my OC´s sneeze related things. I´ll start with my oldest ones and end with the newest. :3

This is going to be long af for being pure self-indulgence but you can always scroll down to the character you like the most. xD In case you want to know more or look at their art/read some stories: If the tags work right all should be found by searching my blog for the OCs name. :)

Lillandlian: 

He has a distinctive photic sneeze reflex due to his unique, pallid complexion and the fact that he has lived in a deeply shaded forest. If not in complete shadows he´ll sneeze right after waking up, when passing through rays of bright sunshine or from looking directly into any radiant source of light. Quick changes in light-and shadow ratio can trigger a sudden release as well.

Those forced photic reactions tend to be quicker and less drawn out than his regular sneezes. For example a sudden yet forceful: “heh-PTSCHieh!”   Due to his unique link with nature the druid is also oversensitive to any kind of air pollution (smoke, ashes,...). This can cause prolonged fits and even breathing troubles. Lillandlian is also prone to catch colds and vulnerable to cool weather and chills. His cold sneezes tend to be more drawn out, come in multiples and rise from deep out of his fused lungs. His regular sneezes are very wet and spraying already and things can get very messy when he´s sick. Generally he does his best to keep them as quiet and polite as possible- giving them a softly spraying, yet forceful kind of tone. This won´t work when his nose is affected very badly- they´ll burst out unrestrained, loud and thus embarrass him even more than his regular ones.  The sounds are all wet, spraying with a lot of force behind and often ending with a higher pitch. Mostly expressed in one or two syllables but rarely in three. ”hhh-TDZSSSSCHiieh!”,  “ hah-IDZSCHHIIIEW!” Stifling them always hurts and needs lots of effort but he will do so to be unobtrusive and considerate despite his discomfort. Telling him to stop will secretly relieve him a lot.  The centaur always tries to shield or angle them away from people and prefers to safely release sneezes into a handkerchief. If nothing else is available he´ll sneeze against his bare forearm, wrist or into his hands. Feeling or seeing his own spray makes him cringe and shutter though.  He will bless other people with: “May Acacia bless you!/Acacias blessings be with you!” or simple “Blessings to you!/Bless you!” -referring to the goddess of nature and creation and wishing the other health in that way. Lillandlian will be very flustered after sneezing himself and apologize. 

Shokhrakka: 

Is sensitive to certain flowers and healing herbs. They will make his nose itch and tingle for a while before the teasing grows into a more pressing need. At that point his nose will be utterly swollen shut and they´ll burst out suddenly. With a lot of force behind. 

There´s not too much actual voice in them but a snarling, deeply growling quality mixed with the distinct sound of air rushing by mighty tusks. The kind of release that vibrates through ones chest and scrapes the throat a bit. Also they´re really loud and tend to startle others. They mostly happen in singles but a very persistent tickle can cause a double with a stray third trailing behind. They mostly sound like: “Huhhr-ERZSSCH-UE!”, “HEH-HURRZSCHH-ah!” Changing or cleaning his several nose piercings can cause a sudden and powerful reaction too. The big Orc is rarely sick and generally not prone to any kind of infection. Shokhrakka is not considered to be a sneezy person and has no other sensitivities.  He´s simply angling his head to an unoccupied side or will sneeze down towards the floor- not being rude on purpose but simply not thinking further about the matter. Surprisingly he always carries a handkerchief with him in case he needs to blow his nose.  If another person sneezes he´ll mostly ignore it but is more attentive to people who are close to him. Then he´ll make sure that the sneeze is not caused by any kind of discomfort. And in case it was: Find a way to ease it.

Marya: 

The Alchemist is allergic to a flower that´s simultaneously an important  medical ingredient called pale nightingale. It´s pollen or crushed petals will cause an instant and strong allergic reaction expressing itself in multiple wet, desperate sneezes. And a clogged or streaming nose as well as badly tearing eyes.  Generally her sneezes are pronounced softly: There´s a wet, mellow sound in them even in the bigger ones and they´re mostly voiced and blended together as one syllable, very rarely two. They come in rapid, spraying multiples that have a distinct “girlish” pitch and ending.  “apTSCHIU! -TSSCHih! -ahTSSCHIEW!” or “ Ah~PTSCHiih!- IZSCH-uh!- TDSCHiuh!”

They´re neither very loud nor very quiet and almost never stifled. She´d only restrain them to avoid sneezing on somebody or infecting another person. Marya tries to cover with a handkerchief or something else available. She is thoughtful about germs and careful not to cause others harm. Yet sneezing is a completely natural thing to her and normally no cause of embarrassment or stress. 

She also has the kink and very much enjoys most sneezes of other women. Especially those from her girlfriend Amaziah. In that relationship Marya has fantasies about being sneezed on and inducing the Archmage in various scenarios.With the later both have had a surprising amount of fun and excitement already. Although not a necessity for fun sneezing does play a big role in her sexuality.  Maryas overall constitution is very sturdy and healthy though she´s prone to falling sick when overworking herself over a long period of time. Or after taking care for Amaziah- because despite knowing better she´s adamant in cuddling and keeping comfortingly close to her girlfriend. There any shared intimacy and care is worth a possible contagion in her opinion.  She´ll mostly wish the other “Gesundheit!” after a sneeze but will vary with “Bless you.” or exclusively to Amaziah the elven “Anvael ci na´eve.” from time to time.

Amaziah:

Is a rather sneezy person and hates every bit of it. She´s a highly decorated leader that personally emphasizes a lot on self-control, manners and ever present strength. So when her body is “disfunctioning” like this it makes her feel angry, annoyed and embarrassed in company.   This is why she´ll try to fend off the inevitable multiple releases as best as possible when others are in vicinity. That works only for a while though. If she´s forced to give in she´ll try to stifle them with cruelly pinching her nose. The action is hurtful, full-bodied but mostly silent. Sometimes the restraint fails and is painfully audible: “-kdnxxt-ugh” or like “Hah-kngxt-uh”. Her natural sneezes are clearly vocalized and mostly separated in two or three syllables: The first distinctly stressed, the middle a deep, harsh and throat scraping sound and the third again rising in pitch and vocalization. Also very loud and a bit achy for her chest: “ Hah-ERRSCHH-hue!”, “huh-AERSSCHH-ah!”. Amaziah has severe dust allergies and is suffering from a strained physical constitution that makes her fall sick often and easily. In addition to that she´s mostly unable to get the much needed rest and thus her condition worsens despite healing potions.  She does hate it when others acknowledge this or react to her sneezing which is why most people have given up on it. They get the dreaded and very intimidating “How dare you!” stare if they dare to offer a blessing. This does not include close people or her girlfriend Marya however: While Amaziah had felt embarrassed and shy about the matter of sneezing at the beginning of her relationship she´s now fine with it as long as both are in private. She even enjoys inducing for her but struggles with the concept of actually sneezing freely.  

The Archmage prefers to turn aside and muffle them securely into a silk handkerchief or the crook of her arm.   Normally she does not offer any kind of blessing because she things it would make others as uncomfortable as herself. She may make an exception for Marya though:  “Anvael ci na´eve.” Amaziah is afraid of germs and thus always aiming for good hygiene in both ways. She´s struck with quite some persistent stuck sneezes and false starts from time to time.

Azra: 

Does share some sensitivities regarding certain flowers and healing plants with her half brother. They cause a lingering, buzzing sensation inside her nose that soon spreads to a full faced tickle and discomfort. She´ll try to harshly rub it out of every offended place which will cause her eyes to water even more. She mostly doesn't mind rubbing, grinding or even wiping her nose against her palm or back of the hand. Her nose responds with a lot of visible crinkling and flaring nostrils when teased.  Other than those triggers she also has a slight sensitivity to dust. It doesn't bother her much in small portions but can trigger some impressive sneezes when she´s exposed to bigger amounts over time.  Azra is not sick too often but when it hits her it´s usually doing so in a hard, unforgiving fashion. She´s not too good with taking care of herself and tries to hide any discomfort since being sick is could be equalized to a weakness she can´t really afford.  Generally her casual sneezes tend to come in doubles with the occasional triple. Her pre-sneeze face and build up are rather expressive and involve a lot of snarling, fang baring and possibly a few irritated hitches that grow in strength and audible depth before reaching their climax.  The final releases are very harsh and resound in her chest with a latent growling intensity. They´re sound could be described as “masculine”, fairly vocal, loud and she mostly sneezes off to her free side: “HuhhrERSSCHH-UH!  HAH-ERSSSCHH-ue!- HURH-EIZSSCHhah!” She does make an effort to cover or shield them when she´s sick. Will even try to stifle when in close quarters despite the fact that this is not fully possible due to her protruding, very big tusks. It´s a good way to tell that she´s unwell though. As are the longer fits that can hit her when she´s suffering from a bad headcold. Azra sometimes uses her plenty nose piercings to coax out some stubborn stuck sneezes rather violently. The feeling of having to sneeze and not being able to is a lot more annoying to her than the actual release.  Generally she doesn´t feel bad about sneezing if it´s not happening in an inconvenient situation or displaying too much vulnerability.  She´s not very used to any kind of blessings or reactions related to sneezing. 

Zephyr: 

Has the kink. And enjoys his own sneezes more than those of another person. He loves the feeling of it, the start of a light teasing tickle that rapidly grows into a more demanding itch. The first subtle and than more visible changes it causes to his body posture, breathing and face. The building pressure in his lungs right before the exquisite release hits him. 

The Satyr goes even so far as to watch his reflection while the sneeze builds- his eyes try to stay open and admiring as long as possible but will eventually be forced shut.  If he would live in a modern day setting instead of the present high fantasy one Zephyr would record his sneezes to watch and listen to them later. Revel in the moment and feeling. And probably have pleasure with it all over again. He can be rather embarrassed to sneeze in front of another person though.  Both things can lead to activating his curse: He´s prone to evoke gusts of wind and even storms with any kind of deeper routed feelings. So semi destructive blasts of wind that trail after some sneezes are an often occurring possibility. 

To Zephyrs own dismay he does not have many allergies. Luckily for him his nose is very sensitive to touch and inducing- a condition he uses very often. With feathers, sensual massages or by teasingly plucking the chain that´s attached to his nose piercing.  Zephyrs sneezes mostly build teasingly slow and are almost always precluded by a series of hitching breaths. Sometimes slightly moaned in desperation. They´re harsh and full-bodied commitments that tend to rattle him more than a bit. Although he does try to give them a (to him) pleasant sound: Always aiming for all three syllables, audibly parted and still musically melting into each other. With that slightly over dramatic rise in pitch and voice towards the end to conceal the harsher middle part: 

“hah-heh- HAH-ERRSCH-iiuuh!- HAH-IZSSCHH-iuh!- hheh- ah- Hadt-EISSCHIOO!” He´s not the type to stifle because... Why miss out on something great? Zephyr will sneeze freely and uncovered when alone but will turn aside to sneeze against his forearm or wrist when around people. 

Evan: 

This man has an immune system so strong it´s an almost indomitable fortress. Which is good since his husbands health is the exact opposite. Normally he does not sneeze much at all but has developed a nasty and itchy allergy to birch tress and hazel bushes. When exposed his eyes and nose are opening the flood gates simultaneously while both turning visibly red and irritated. His nose starts to tingle and buzz with sneezy desperation right after and it doesn't take long to be fully overcome.  Despite him being very tall and muscular his sneezes are restrained and squelched into almost silent submission. And directly followed by an achy groan or shaky exhale. Desperate and painful sounding stifles that can arrive in singles or a whole big party when allergies hit him.  Initiated by a big breath and trembling grimace as his hand flies up to press against his shaking septum in a futile attempt to avoid the following: “HAH-nxdt!-uhh” or “HEH-kxndt-ah!” and very rarely he looses the battle for control after a longer fit- ending it with a harsh: “AERRRSCHooh!” or a similar sounding, very relieving sneeze. All variations are followed by some sniffs and a husky “xcuse me...”. His Love does chide him for stifling and keeps reciting the risks and possible harms of this kind of action. Although this does not stop Evan from doing it again.  Most of his stifles are dry since he effectively blocks every other option. A full release or a bad allergy day can still turn out messy from time to time. 

Evan always sneezes against his shoulder, into the crook of one arm or into his shirt that will be hastily pulled up over mouth and nose. He is especially careful with keeping all kinds of germs away from his husband Alexej. He´s not scared of catching things himself though.  He does thank people for blessing him and also very friendly blesses others who are in close vicinity to him. No matter if they´re friends or complete strangers. Has kind of a funny habit with calling “bless you!” through the whole flat upon hearing his husband sneeze in a far away corner of their shared place.  Which leaves Alexej blushing a bit, silently thinking: “Was it.... that loud?” before calling back a flustered “Thank you!”.

Alexej:

His health is very frail with his immune-system  actually compromised due to several chronic issues. He´s almost all the time at least achy and sniffly with the tendency to get worse very fast and really seriously.  In addition to catching colds and being sick way to often Alexej is also suffering from severe dust and perfume allergies.  Both he and his husband Evan do avoid any kind of scented products and keep their shared flat meticulously clean.  Despite the constant struggles his nose did not seem to have hardened against outside teasing since it can be vexed and irritated pretty easily.  All these ailments make him a very sneezy person and when doing so it´s almost always happening three times in a row. Although an allergy attack can easily cause a prolonged fit.  Especially his cold sneezes build awfully slow- teasing him with lots of gasped out hitching and a couple of false starts here and there. A struggle so clearly visible in his desperate facial expressions.  When they finally come they do so forcefully and accompanied by a lot of mess while shaking his lithe body and leaving him dizzy.  Despite their force and volume the sound is desperate yet underlined with a rather soft, spraying base that´s ending in a higher pitch. “hhh-heh-hhiih-PTZSSCH-hieh!”, “-IZZSSSCH-iieew!” He manages to keep his regular “just an itchy nose” kind of sneezes a bit lower in volume and force. They´ll built and come more sudden and he´ll hold them back to a more suppressed but still spraying “TZSCHieh!”.  If possible Alexej will always try and muffle his sneezes into a tissue, his sleeve or crook of an arm- resulting in big, very visible wet spots and a lot of blushing.

He used to apologize a lot after sneezing but has moderated that habit around Evan a bit due to his husbands constant reassurances and care. Although generally he´s feeling both deeply embarrassed and angry at himself for his often “misbehaving” nose and shattered immune system.  Having to sneeze in public, or worse in front of his audience during a concert, is still a huge horror for him. One that´s recurring from time to time despite his tries to ward it off.  Alexej is often too shy to bless anyone besides his husband Evan. He dislikes it when his husband stifles because he´s worried it will cause harm or hurt him. Alexej himself has had bad experiences with stifling- which is why he avoids doing so. 

Whew that was it for now. Somehow that was great to do but harder to write than an actual fic. Hope you liked reading it though! :)

[starshineskyandthepowerofrock]

After-School Flight

Part 6 of Starshine, Sky, and the Power of Rock.

I've always thought summer's last gasp to be its most beautiful, and I've yet to be proven wrong. In fact, this view is doing quite the opposite.

Citrus and I bask in the presence of treetops and rooftops alike rendered tiny from our position just below the clouds on the backs of our flying horses. The palace's first stop of the school year is Fairy Dust Falls, and I'm living for the sparkling world beneath us. I close my eyes for but a moment to let my other senses have a turn, and take note of the warm wind gliding in and out of my body.

Citrus' horse, Flame, does the tiniest dip that makes him yelp and my heart lurch a bit. I don't need him falling. But he's fine, and his smile is as big as ever. His bright orange hair sparkles like mine (it's a cat people thing) and his tan skin is gilded by the near-twilight. Oh wait. That means the sun is setting.

"It's curfew," I shout over the wind. "We should head back."

The royal stables are a source of anxiety for those unused to them, mostly because the iridescent force field keeping one from falling off the attached landing platform is nearly invisible unless you know it's there. But I do know it's there, so I'm doing just fine. That doesn't mean I'd go near the edge, mind.

"Wanna come meet my band?" I ask as I hand Splendor off to a servant.

Citrus doesn't look at me. He's staring into the sky, which is painted in pinks and yellows and oranges. His tie flutters in the breeze and he's got one hand holding his blazer over his shoulder and the other in his pocket. "I saw you sitting with them," is all he says. His tone is matter-of-fact.

"And?" I say. "That's not meeting them. Come on, it's a room full of cute girls!" I give his arm a playful shake.

Citrus winces ever so slightly. "Vampires aren't really my type."

Oh. Oh yeah. I keep forgetting about the whole vampire thing. "She's not like those other ones."

"You just met her," he replies. "Who knows what she's like?"

I'm silent for a moment. "Exactly," I decide on. "So you don't know if she's bad."

The silence resumes. I want with every fiber of my being to end this conversation but have no clue how. Then, Citrus asks, "Do you remember your parents? Like, your birth ones?"

I blink. "Why do you ask?"

"You never talk about them."

"Yeah, 'cause I don't remember them. They... you know... passed when I was a baby." My feet shift in discomfort.

"Band of Darkness?"

"That's what I'm told."

Citrus nods. "Mine, too. But I was three when it happened. I remember."

"Oh..." is all I can say. "I had no idea..."

"The song they were playing..." Citrus continues, breathing faster. "It gets stuck in my head sometimes. Especially at night."

I put an attempted supportive hand on his shoulder. He's shaking.

"I saw it happen, Star." His voice is breaking. "My parents, they hid me, but I still managed to see. He was a vampire, the guy who did it. He was smiling. Laughing. His fangs were huge, I remember them best. And I couldn't even scream because if I did then he'd find me and do the same thing to me."

I can't even look at him. I'm horrified. Thinking back, I vaguely remember Citrus being pretty quiet back in my early orphanage days. I never thought to wonder why.

"So, I know it's probably unfair, but... You understand if I don't really wanna meet your new friend. Right?" Citrus says. He's blinking rapidly, trying to keep me from seeing how wet his eyes are.

I wrap my arms around him and place my head on his chest as it rises and falls. "I understand."

I've been at peace with technically being an orphan for years now, but I guess it's easy to do that when you have two loving parents that happen to be queens. But when the school year is over, Citrus will spend his summer in that same orphanage. I've known this all along. So why is this the first time I ever really thought about it?

⭐⭐⭐

All of the common rooms are equipped with an impressive grand piano that tends to be rather popular after classes end for the evening. The first year girls' common room is no exception. I'm of course immediately asked to perform a solo upon entering, which I have to politely decline on the grounds that it's curfew, and we should all be heading to our dorms.

Girls shuffle around me and out the door in disappointment, all except one who lingers next to the doorway.

Sky leans against the wall, thumbs once again in her pockets. She nods in a sort of greeting.

I stare for a second, Citrus' story fresh in my mind. But she isn't in the Band of Darkness, she's come to join the Band of Light! I manage a smile. "Hey."

"Hey," she replies.

"Are you okay?" I ask. "You kinda dropped the ball in guitar class, no offense."

Sky tries to shrink into the wall. "Ugh, I know, that was bad. I guess I'm just... not used to..."

"An audience?"

"Yeah. I mean, a couple people have heard me play, but... I dunno." She stares at her boots.

"Part of the school's application is a recording of your work. So my mama's heard you play."

"I guess she has..."

"Do you know piano?" I ask.

"Yeah."

I run a hand along the piano's shiny top. "How about you play me something tomorrow morning, then? Before anyone wakes up. I promise, I only judge people's fashion sense."

Sky searches my eyes, looking for a trace of insincerity. But she can't find any where there's none to be found. "Okay," she finally says.

My smile widens. "Great!" I go turn off the lights. Now the only light in the room comes from the blue night sky, which is being filtered in through the glass double doors of the common room balcony. "Come on, let's gAAH WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR EYES?!"

I've turned to find Sky's irises glowing pale blue. The parts of her eyes that should be black are white and vice versa. "What?" she asks. "Oh," she chuckles. "Yeah, my eyes do that in the dark. Vampire thing."

"Right... right..." I'm trying to catch my breath. "Well, it's time for bed," I say, and head for the door. I stop and turn when I realize she isn't doing the same. In fact, she's deeper in the room than before. "Are you coming? It's curfew."

"I heard," Sky says.

I'm speechless for a moment. "That means you have to go to your dorm."

Sky raises an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth goes up with it. "Does it?" She sits at the piano bench.

"What are you doing?"

Sky spins around to face the keys. "I've been waiting for everyone to leave. I don't like an audience, remember?"

I scoff. "That doesn't mean you get to break the rules!"

Her fingers hover over the keys, twitching in anticipation. "Try me. The longer you're in here the longer it'll take for me to start. And the longer both of us break curfew."

I'm incredulous. "You'll get in trouble!"

"We'll see about that."

We're in a standoff of sorts for a moment. Finally, I break the silence. "Why can't I hear you play now?"

Sky hesitates, the sly smile wiped from her face. She locks her eyes onto the keys. "I'm writing a song. No one needs to hear unfinished work."

I soften muscles I hadn't noticed were tense. "You write songs?"

"Just the music. I'm bad with lyrics."

I go to sit next to her. "Lyrics are all I write."

Sky glances at me, curiosity somewhat dissipating the creepiness from the inverted colors of her eyes. Something about her seems... softer now. Less guarded, I suppose. "Really?" she asks.

"Yup!"

A mere millimeter of change to her eyebrow height brings her expression from curious to tentatively hopeful. "I've, uh, actually been looking for a lyricist." She averts her gaze again, the next words caught in her mouth for a second. "My last one... uh... I guess we had a falling out."

"Well, you're part of a band now, and bands stick together!" I say. "Can you show me what you've got? I mean, if we're gonna be working together, I have to hear it!"

Sky lets out a long, thin stream of air from her mouth, as if she's being deflated. "Alright," she says. She stares at her hands, who take a second or two to comply with her and start playing. The notes seem to pull against each other, yet work together at the same time. There is a strength to the melody, a sense of determination, yet rooted in a place of vulnerability. The tune is less than a minute long, but that's long enough for her to put me into a trance.

Not a second of silence passes between the final note and Sky saying, "It's just a hook right now, it still needs a lot of work-"

"I love it," I say.

Sky looks baffled. "You do?"

"Of course, I do! Especially those last three notes. In fact..." I play the final notes myself, multiple times as I chew a thought over. A couple weeks ago, I couldn't get a certain phrase out of my head, to the point that I wrote a whole poem around it. A phrase so simple, practically cliche, yet it resonated with me. Three syllables, three notes, it's perfect. What was it? Oh yeah!

"Save the world..." I sing to the tune, as much to myself as to Sky.

On impulse, Sky repeats, "Save the world..." She smiles at me. "I like that."

"Right?" I say, standing up in excitement. "Because that's what we're gonna do!" I give my most dramatic look into the middle distance. "There are monsters out there. Bad ones, I mean. Right now, they're probably planning another attack. But we'll stop them! No more burnt villages, no more raided homes, no more orphaned children, no more- AH!" I've happened to look at my wrist to find it completely naked!

Sky bolts to me, concerned. "What?"

I can only gasp and sputter for, like, thirty seconds before finally saying, "My bracelet fell off!" I shove my wrist under her nose, my sleeve pulled back to reveal the indents in my skin from continual wearing of the undersized accessory.

Sky sighs with relief. "I thought something bad happened."

"This is bad!" I say, grabbing her shoulders. "My parents gave me that bracelet the day they adopted me! It reminds me of how special I am to them and how they've done so much for me! I wear it every day! I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT IT!"

"Okay, okay," Sky says as she wrests herself from my grip. She starts looking around. "It's probably around here somewhere."

Meanwhile, I'm frantically retracing my steps. I remember wearing it when Citrus and I took off on our flight. Was I wearing it when we got back? So much was going on, how am I supposed to remember? Think, Star think!

...Oh. Oh no.

"I went for a fly not long ago," I say, my voice shaking. "I - I remember feeling something... loosen... or snap... under my sleeve. Right on my wrist."

Sky, who has been on her knees looking under the piano bench, looks up at me. "Sounds like the latch broke," she says, standing up. "I'd guess-"

I wail in horror. "It fell off over the village!" I pace frantically. "It could be anywhere! Bu-but it's okay, I could just go looking for it tomorrow! I'm sure a villager will have found it by then, and I can just ask for it back!"

Sky considers this for a moment. "How nice is the bracelet?"

"It was custom ordered by monarchs. It's really nice."

"Yeah, it's gone."

If I was breathing hard before, I'm positively hyperventilating now.

"Ah, but, that's if we wait 'til tomorrow!" Sky says, panic rising in her voice. She turns her gaze to the balcony. Her face relaxes, and I can tell something is going on behind her eyes. "You didn't lose it that long ago. I bet we could find it if we go now."

"Um, excuse me? It's curfew!"

Sky doesn't respond. She walks past me, opens the balcony doors, and steps into the night air. "Yeah," she says under her breath. "That could work..."

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

She turns to me. The moonlight illuminates one side of her face, so that only one eye is returned to normal. Her smile is wide and dangerous. "We're gonna get your bracelet back."

Maybe there's no concept of a curfew where she's from. I'll say it a bit more slowly, then. "It's against the rules to leave our dorms, let alone the building after sunset. We can't."

"Really?" Sky says, casually leaning back on the railing. "Then, uh... what am I doing right now?" Sky swings her legs over the railing, and gravity barely starts pulling her down before she goes up in a puff of dark red smoke and is replaced with a white bat.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, but Sky the bat is already flapping her way around the exterior of the palace and away from my sight.

Oh no. Oh no oh no nonononono, I have to tell someone! After all, it's entirely possible she's planning something real bad. Why would she go through all that trouble of... whatever it is she's up to just to get back a bracelet for someone she barely knows? It seems less and less plausible the more I think about it. It's settled, then.

Just as I'm about to march out the room, the distinct, heavy flap of horse wings brings my attention back to the balcony. The sight I'm faced with sends me off my feet and onto the floor.

It's a horse, I guess, but OH MY GOODNESS! It's huge and black, with a mane seemingly made out of black flames and milky white eyes that convey only a desire to eat my soul. Its glossy black wings are reminiscent of those you'd find on a raven in a cemetery. It takes me many terrified seconds to register Sky astride the beast's back, no longer a bat and smiling with pride.

"Meet Guillotine," she says.

When I finally regain the ability to speak, the first words out of my mouth are a meek, "I take it that's your horse?"

Sky nods. "He's a Night Stallion. Got him when I was five. I wanted a girl, but the boys are way less expensive because they don't come with a pun." She holds out a hand. "Well?" she asks. "You coming?"

"Am I coming?" I repeat, standing up. "For the last time, we can't go down there right now!"

"I thought you said this bracelet was important."

"It is, but... but..."

"Listen, I'm not forcing you, okay? It's your choice to make."

Another standoff. Her eyes really know how to dig under a person's skin, but I'm unsure what she plans to do once under there. At this moment, I can't help remembering all the horrible things I've seen and heard monsters do. They've hurt my subjects, my birth parents, my oldest friend. And here's one claiming she wants to help me. Does she really? I search her face, her eyes, for that same deceit she'd searched for in mine. But it's a lot harder to know what's true on this end. There's only one way to find out if she's for real, but can I take that chance?

I run my fingers over the little dents in the skin on my wrist. It feels so wrong, not having my bracelet on me. Even with all my jewels and crowns and platform heels, it's my greatest possession. I straighten my back.

"I'll go," I tell her.

Sky's eyes glitter with excitement. She holds me steady as I shakily climb behind her onto Guillotine's back. And with that, we take a stomach-dropping plunge before taking to the sky.

"What if we're caught?" I ask, wrapping my arms around her waist and wishing I had a seat belt. I press on her further for some semblance of stability, and my stomach lines with ice because hugging her feels like hugging a dead body. No warmth, no heartbeat, no breathing until she inhales only to reply:

"Then we'll get chewed out, maybe detention, and life'll go on."

"Detention?" I exclaim.

Sky chuckles, and the way her body jerks is very jarring compared to the absolute stillness she exhibits when silent. "Yeah, but odds are we won't get caught if I have anything to say."

"Why, do you have some kind of vampire cloaking powers?"

"Nope. I'm just really used to sneaking out."

[eurolinguiste]

The following post is a guest post from fellow language learner and musician Fiel Sahir. He came to me with this excellent idea on how to apply music study techniques to language learning and I just love what he came up with. 

So take it away, Fiel!

This is it.

Lots of crazy things going on in the world, so it’s time to bring in some positive energy. Let’s make 2017 something worth looking back on.

Losing weight is good, hiking up Everest is always prospect, as is finally getting to those cooking classes. There are always more ideas floating around than we realistically have time for. It’s hard to know what to choose.

Already, it’s February. There’s a pretty good chance that so far, you’re not quite where you want to be with your goals for the new year. Kinda frustrating, isn’t it?

Maybe trying to tackle Mandarin from scratch was too difficult, and now it’s crunch time at work. All those characters! UGH! If only the boss was more lenient so that you’d have a bit more free time. Or maybe you were still just wishing you had a better plan or strategy.

As humans we often tend to think too big. We love to dream about end results as if they were as easy as picking an apple off a tree. It’s easy to forget that there’s work that needs to go on behind the scenes to make those end results a reality.

I’m not saying goals and resolutions are bad. Not at all. It’s a sign that you are a responsible individual and that you want to take charge of your life! The world needs people like you.

The problem is that these goals are often too big.

As the days roll by, life happens. You’ve find your progress up that mountain has halted and you’re frustrated about why you aren’t at the peak yet. You start to wonder if you’ll ever arrive.

Wouldn’t it be great if there was an easy way to learn languages?

What makes ordinary people do great things is not because they themselves were great. Rather, it’s all about how normal people tackle great adversity.

If you’re short on time, and want to get to the specifics there’s a detailed video explaining how things work in this post.

What in the world is chunking?

I’ll let you in on a secret: Just doing something repetitively won’t solve your problems.

Instead, you need to be more mindful of how you spend your study time and develop a series of tactics that work for you. Chunking is a technique that musicians use and I’ve also found it useful in language learning and it may be the right choice for you.

For those of you unfamiliar with chunking, it is the practice of breaking things down into bitesize pieces. Whether you like it or not, your brain can only process a limited amount of information. You cannot absorb everything at once. But if you give it breathing room, the brain can absorb more effectively.

Let’s say you want to go to the US for college. It’s tempting to throw up your hands in desperation exclaiming, “OH MY GOD. I HAVE TO LEARN ENGLISH!!” While that may be your current mountain, take a breath. Do what Benny Lewis the Irish Polyglot does instead:

“Today I need to learn how to introduce myself. Tomorrow I’d like to order a coffee. Hmm… maybe I’d like to talk with a waitress at a café today.”

See how much less pressure that carries? You can even go further still!

You might find something similar to the following dialogue in your course book: Jack: Hey! My name’s Jack. Where are you from? Ann: Oh, hi! I’m Ann. Nice to meet you! I’m from Seattle. Jack: Nice… I’m from Nebraska. It’s a pretty cold place. I hear Seattle gets TONS of rain!

Let’s say this is your first ever English dialogue. What the heck is Nebraska? After looking it up, you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s just a place name.

You naturally read it over and over again from beginning to end and soon find the rhythm in your voice. After having done that multiple times, you realize it’s not sinking in as well as you hoped. You look at it and shake your head thinking, “How can I learn this in the most efficient way possible?”

Spending a lot of time on something doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll get anything done…. Click To Tweet

Simple Repetition isn’t the Answer

“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” – Unknown but falsely attributed to Einstein

I recently sat down with a polyglot friend over Skype who wanted some guitar advice before he recorded a video for YouTube.

One of his enduring questions was, “Do you ever get stuck in a song and then have to play from the beginning all over again? I never seem able to just pick up where I messed up!“

I then asked him how he was practicing, and therein lay the answer.

For anyone who’s studied music (particularly classical), this is a problematic reality. Many people look at sheet music and “practice” by playing from beginning to end.

While a Freshman at the New England Conservatory, that was my routine. I thought, as long as I spent two hours on this piece everyday, it would get better. Two hours of putting something on repeat and stopping to fix mistakes only once as you plow through doesn’t do much. Why? Because you’ll only make them again. You’re not giving your brain enough time to process and reprogram what you’ve learned.

Just as you can learn to play the right notes, you can also program yourself to play mistakes. And…

Mistakes don’t fix themselves. If they do, it’s never at the speed you need or want. This problem plagues everyone from the amateur to the seasoned professional. Music is enjoyable and it’s easy to get lost in it.

“Playing is simply intoxicating!” – Adam Holzman, Classical Guitarist and Pedagogue

One of the problems many musicians face is relying too much on muscle memory. On the other hand, language learners focus too much on the script in front of them. After spending a good amount of time with the music or text you begin to feel pretty great.

The reason is, no one is there to judge but ourselves.

Then comes the moment when you have to practice in front of our language partner or tutor. Half a sentence leaves our lips, and then our nerves kick in and you forget the rest. This happens multiple times within one session. It’s pretty embarrassing!

Everyone has problems and challenges. Nothing new. How you address them, especially through chunking will change everything.

Building better “practice” habits.

“Practice doesn’t make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect.” – Doug Yeo former BSO Bass Trombonist

Being a Classical Guitarist by trade, these are techniques I’ve learned over the years that push me in the right direction. I’m in the business of having to learn music for concerts and competitions. Without these ideas, I’d end up just playing my pieces over and over again.

What I’m about to describe is invaluable information. It’s the behind-the-scenes work of professional musicians and actors. It’s how they perfect their craft. I’m sure Shannon can attest to having used these techniques herself.

1. Take it slow, phrase by phrase.

Ignore the temptation is to take it in all at once. Don’t forget the brain can only process a certain amount of information.

As you look at a dialogue, feel the words in your mouth, and the weird shapes and sounds of this new language. Give your body time to adjust. It’s like stretching into a new yoga pose.

Maybe your accent is really bothering you and you’re not sure how to fix it. There is hope!

I highly recommend Idahosa Ness’ MimicMethod or Gabriel Wyner’s Pronunciation-Trainers. What makes them work is the musical philosophy behind their methods.

“If you can’t hear it you can’t imitate (pronounce) it.”

2. Prioritize.

Scratch out words you do know and circle ones you don’t.

Take charge by deciding what is priority and work with that. Knowing how to say “Nice to meet you” is much more important than knowing what Nebraska is.

Sorry Nebraskans…

3. Drill it again and again.

Although it may sound like it, I’m not saying you shouldn’t do repetitions.

What makes musicians learn music quickly is by changing how you repeat! Artists make it fun and useful. Keeping it varied also helps avoid burn-out.

Try the following options:

Read a phrase syllable by syllable.

Again, but this time In different rhythms or speeds.

Use what opera singers and actors call “back-chaining.” Back-chaining is the practice of going backwards and building up a word one syllable at a time. (More on this in the video.)

4. Record yourself at normal speed to listen to and identify problems.

After practicing something for awhile it’s easy to feel proud of yourself. Sometimes you might even feel as though you can take on the world.

The fix for that is recording yourself. Why?

Once you hit the record button, something clicks. You’ll be making mistakes you’ve never made before and it’ll show you what to improve. Being under stress no matter how small, produces changes in performance.

Speaking of which, Lindsay Does Languages is doing what’s called the Instagram Language Challenge (#IGLC). I can tell you from personal experience that it’s nerve wracking. So why do I still do it? Because afterwards, I can evaluate my mistakes and fix them! The other participants are also quite helpful in correcting any mistakes. And best of all, it’s FREE.

5. Practice again with these new ideas

Review the various points as well as the video. As you wrestle with the ideas I’ve shared with you, adjust them to how you learn best. Our goal is to turn you into a highly effective independent learner.

6. Go public!

Assuming you haven’t already done this step, going public sets you up for accountability. When people are watching what you’re doing, you’re less likely to slack off.

One last idea. Never be afraid to keep asking for a second opinion. When you let others check your progress, you’ll find that their insight is priceless.

Now, enough theory. Go practice!

There’s a lot of information here in this post, so feel free to come back to it whenever you’re feeling stuck.

For now, get out there and apply what you’ve learnt today. Whether it be language learning, cooking, music practice, it’s time to do things better.

Here’s to a productive 2017!

Want more tips on language learning from a musical perspective? Be sure to check out Fiel’s presentation at the Polyglot Gathering in 2016.

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The post How to use Chunking to Fire up your Language Learning appeared first on Eurolinguiste.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

hi Ash, i know you've given advice to autistic writers as a neurotypical before so if you've answered this i'm sorry!! but i was wondering, do you have advice for making characters different from each other as someone who struggles to understand how others think? all my characters have the same way of speaking/the same reactions (those being exactly the same as me), when i try to force characters to be different they just turn back into me. i really don't know how anyone else's mind works lol!

This is pretty common even for neurotypical writers, especially when you’re in early stages on trying to improve your writing! I feel like everybody starts out with a narrative voice where that narrative voice sort of permeates everything, and you develop individual voices/unique voices only after that. So trust, there’s value even early on when the voices all sound the same, and that you recognize that puts you one step further towards differentiation already.

So.

Number one, let’s take a look at dialogue patterns. One of the easiest ways to tell people apart, in writing, is by HOW they speak, not what they say. Some people speak slowly - they take time, pause between sentences. Some might stutter. Some might express emotion openly, while others are very analytical or short and fast in how they speak. Some people might ramble or every time they speak turns into a story.

Let’s think of some OCs and how their internal thought process changes how they think:

1. Kauri - wildly traumatized and part of his trauma involves having it carefully enforced that he’s stupid, even though he isn’t. A lot of his conversation turns into insulting himself in some way. He is also bright and cheerful and chatty, so he tends to talk a lot, and be optimistic and sweet and kind. 

2. Nate has a stammer that gets worse or better depending on how stressed or unhappy he is (except that, on occasion, he gets angry enough that he stops stuttering entirely for a short while.) A thoughtful, deliberate man, Nate speaks more slowly, and with thought beforehand. He is outwardly quieter because much of what he does happens internally.

3. Danny uses ‘um’ a lot, and tends to start rambling nervously when he speaks, as a result of his time with Bram. He is a hesitant speaker but when he starts he usually doesn’t stop.

4. Jake swears easily and constantly, is sometimes irritable, but deeply gentle with the rescues. His sentences are usually shorter.

5. Chris has a particular speech pattern called ‘cluttering’ - it’s not stuttering on syllables but repeating words a lot, almost always the smaller sort of transition words like ‘then’ or ‘and’. His mind is also running a thousand miles a minute, which is part of why his speech clutters - he’s thinking so fast that he often gets stuck trying to remember what he was about to say, his brain already moved on.

So these are some examples of how speech can SHOW different ways of thinking. The best way to get a grasp on this is really practice. Take some time to think through what personality traits or ways of thinking you WANT your OCs to have that you don’t currently see or read in them. Let’s say you have:

Hiram Age: 25 Personality: Analytical, sarcastic Speech Notes: Speaks only after thinking. Shorter sentences - quick and to the point. Sarcasm is primary spoken humor. Others routinely do not know he is joking due to his flat affect and take him seriously

Jennifer Age: 23 Personality: Analytical, bubbly, cheerful Speech notes: Often rambles and speaks her entire thought process out loud. Long sentences, lots of variation. Routinely doesn’t realize Hiram is joking. Her own humor is more prone to silliness. Usually assumes the nicest/kindest motivations in others.

Notes like this can help you get a better idea of where you want to do with the characters and how to write out their dialogue.

Most of us can’t REALLY fathom the way other peoples’ minds work. I mean, I’m pretty terrible at it. But the trick is making it LOOK like you do, and speech notes/work on dialogue can go SUCH a long way.

For me, the goal is that if I wrote dialogue without ever naming the people involved, you would be able to tell that two different people are speaking. Play around with that, as well - write out a scene, pull out only the dialogue, and play around with what you can do to make it clear that multiple people are talking and how their voices can ‘sound’ different on the page. No pressure to get perfect, just practice for the fun of it.

Hope that helps!